◎For It Is Not Requital, But an Everlasting Bond◎

“Wait.”

As soon as she finished speaking, Cui Heng grabbed hold of her as she prepared to leave.

Luo Wanqing turned to look and saw Cui Heng raise an eyebrow: “Who gave you the courage to have him teach you?”

Luo Wanqing froze, hesitating: “But there are only two days left…”

“He doesn’t play qin anymore.” Cui Heng interrupted Luo Wanqing, smiling: “I’ll teach you.”

With that, Cui Heng grasped her elbow and stood up.

With his force, Luo Wanqing was pulled toward him.

“You played pipa for me, I’ll teach you qin. This could be considered,” Cui Heng smiled as he lowered his eyes to look at her, his gaze flowing with gentleness like moonlit streams, “you give me a wooden peach, I repay with precious jade, no?”

At these words, Luo Wanqing’s heartstrings trembled slightly, and for a moment, she dared not speak.

Luo Wanqing stared at him blankly as the second half of that poem suddenly flashed through her mind.

You give me a wooden peach, I repay with precious jade—for it is not requital, but an everlasting bond.

“Why aren’t you speaking?”

Cui Heng asked with a smile.

Luo Wanqing suddenly came to her senses, somewhat embarrassedly retorting: “You’re the wooden peach.”

With that, Luo Wanqing collected her inappropriate thoughts and became serious again, frowning at him: “There are only two days until the Qinyın Festival. Can you teach me?”

“If you think the Inspector could, then naturally I can.”

Cui Heng smiled as he tapped Luo Wanqing’s shoulder with his fan, then said: “Wait here for now. I’ll go borrow a qin.”

With that, he turned and walked out.

Knowing he was going to borrow a qin from Xie Heng, Luo Wanqing said nothing more. She leaned against the desk and looked at the wooden hairpin and Qinyın Festival invitation in the wooden box.

Not wanting to play qin at the Qinyın Festival was partly from fear of exposing her identity, but most importantly, she didn’t want to play before Li Guiyu.

Thinking of their youthful promises, Luo Wanqing suddenly felt nauseous.

She would never forgive him.

She pulled out the invitation, running her fingers over the character “Zheng” on it, remembering her time in prison.

She would never, ever forgive him.

With this thought, Luo Wanqing placed the invitation back on the table, put the wooden hairpin in its box, opened a small cabinet, and placed the hairpin inside.

When Cui Heng returned with the qin, he glanced lightly at her actions, then walked to the long table by the window, placed the qin on it, and said gently: “Come over.”

Hearing this, Luo Wanqing walked over and sat beside Cui Heng.

Cui Heng began teaching from tuning, very methodically. Since Luo Wanqing had a foundation with other instruments, she quickly began playing simple melodies.

However, no matter how she played, the qin sound was somewhat dry.

Luo Wanqing frowned. Cui Heng listened from beside her, smiling: “Qin music comes from the heart. Though this piece is simple, your heart is not in it. Better to choose a piece you have a feeling for. If your Qin skills are lacking, use sincerity to make up for it.”

With that, Cui Heng casually played a section of “Joyful Meeting.” The sound was joyful and lively, as if substantial, like birds happily chirping around them. Without words, Luo Wanqing knew his mood was very cheerful at this moment.

Listening to the melody, Luo Wanqing couldn’t help but marvel: “How do you play qin so well too?”

Hearing this, Cui Heng chuckled lightly. He released the strings, sat to one side, propped his chin up, leaned lazily against the long table: “Yes, I’m good at everything.”

“Are you more skilled, or is the young master?” Luo Wanqing couldn’t help being curious.

Cui Heng thought, considering: “In terms of qin skills, probably he was more skilled in his youth. I’m older now,” Cui Heng joked, “my skills have grown rusty.”

“With such excellent qin skills, the young master doesn’t play anymore?”

Hearing this, Luo Wanqing felt it was somewhat regrettable. She already found Cui Heng’s qin skills exquisite—if Xie Heng was even better but didn’t play, it was truly wasteful.

Hearing this, Cui Heng only smiled faintly, saying: “Useless things—what’s to regret?”

“How could it be useless?”

Luo Wanqing said, plucking out a section of the pipa tune she had played for him on his birthday night, turning to look at him: “When I played this piece for you, were you happy?”

Hearing this, Cui Heng said nothing, quietly watching her.

Seeing his reaction, Luo Wanqing knew the answer and smiled: “Isn’t that useful then?”

Cui Heng chuckled softly. He lowered his eyes, raised his hand to flick her finger, reminding: “Move your middle finger forward a bit.”

When he returned to his room, he removed his mask and looked at the qin table where a qin had once been placed.

In an instant, his mind filled with cursing voices.

“Aren’t you supposed to be so capable? Aren’t you the Dao Sect’s chosen disciple, supremely intelligent? Save them! Save people!”

“They’re dead, they died right outside, how can you just watch? What use is your qin? What use is your sword?”

“Xie Heng, save people!” The long qin in his arms was knocked to the ground, smashing into the rainwater, surrounded by sharp screams, “Are you useless? What good are you? What use?”

These voices surrounded him, and the smell of blood filled his nostrils. His breathing involuntarily grew heavy as he reached to support himself on the table edge, trembling as he tried to reach for medicine.

However, a voice suddenly appeared in his mind.

“How could it be useless?”

This voice instantly suppressed all the images, and the bloody smell dissipated.

Warm light appeared before his eyes—a woman leaning against the long railing, plucking her pipa under the lamplight.

“When I play the pipa for you, are you happy?”

“Happy.”

As reason slowly returned, he realized his nails had pierced his palm.

Blood dripped from his palm to the floor. He raised his head and finally gave the answer he hadn’t provided earlier.

“I am happy.”

However, Luo Wanqing couldn’t hear these words. She put away the qin and lay back on her bed.

Her mind was full of the character “Zheng” on the invitation.

Previously she had focused entirely on Li Guiyu. Now with this invitation bearing the character “Zheng” delivered, she suddenly remembered that her father’s death wasn’t solely Li Guiyu’s doing.

He was just the betrayer, which made him seem particularly hateful.

But the one who made the judgment was Zheng Pingsheng, and the one who persuaded Zheng Pingsheng was Zheng Biyue. Among the three of them, it was hard to say whose guilt was heaviest.

Now she couldn’t touch Li Guiyu, and Zheng Pingsheng was also difficult to handle, but Zheng Biyue had become the person she could most easily reach.

Thinking of Zheng Biyue, she slowly recalled their only two meetings.

The first time was at Yangzhou Lake.

That day, she was boating with Jiang Shaoyan when they heard that a high-ranking noble lady had come to Yangzhou—the eldest legitimate daughter of one of Great Xia’s Four Surnames, said to be extremely beautiful. Everyone went to see the excitement, so she followed from afar on her small boat to take a look.

At that time, Jiang Shaoyan stood behind her as they gazed at that painted pleasure boat together. They saw Zheng Biyue in blue robes and tall crown standing at the bow.

She was indeed beautiful, with a noble bearing that ordinary ladies lacked. When Luo Wanqing looked up at her, Zheng Biyue turned to look back. That glance lasted a long time before she finally looked away.

Not understanding, she turned to ask Jiang Shaoyan: “Is there anything special about our boat? Why did Miss Zheng look for so long?”

Hearing this, Jiang Shaoyan smiled slightly, only saying: “The most special thing on this boat is you, Miss.”

Hearing this, her face burned as she lowered her head: “You mustn’t say such things.”

Now, thinking back, what was special about her?

That glance was aimed at Jiang Shaoyan.

The reason she looked away calmly without any follow-up action was perhaps because they had long been secretly involved.

The two of them, looking at her, then must have found her quite amusing—she had thought that indeed, perhaps, it was because she was beautiful.

The second meeting was in the prison cell.

In the depths of winter, she had been in the cell for a long time.

Her clothes were dirty, she stank, her whole person like a piece of rotting meat—it was the ugliest moment of her life.

She ate too little and was somewhat weak. As she leaned against the wall with her eyes closed, resting, she heard commotion in the cell.

Then she opened her eyes and saw a woman walking from the far end of the corridor outside the cell.

Richly dressed in brocades, with gold hairpins and jade ornaments, the jailer who was usually extremely harsh to them fawned obsequiously beside her, directing people to lay carpets and bringing tables and chairs for this noble woman.

She recognized this as Zheng Biyue but didn’t think it had anything to do with her.

Until finally, Zheng Biyue sat down at the cell door, then the jailer stood before the prison cell and loudly called Luo Wanqing’s name, as if calling a dog, shouting: “Luo Wanqing, come here!”

Luo Wanqing froze, standing up under the worried gazes of her mother and sisters-in-law.

Fearing to implicate her family, not daring to disobey the jailer, she could only boldly step forward and timidly bow: “Greetings, sir.”

Then she turned to look at the woman, puzzled as she bowed: “Greetings, noble lady.”

Zheng Biyue didn’t speak then. She only elegantly raised her hand to cover her nose and mouth.

This gesture instantly stung Luo Wanqing’s pride. She couldn’t help lowering her head, wanting to retreat but not daring to, only able to tremble lightly under the other’s gaze, not daring to make a sound.

Zheng Biyue looked at her for a long time, examining every inch, until finally she seemed to find it boring. Without saying anything, she just stood up, leaving one sentence: “Wash her. Too smelly.”

She didn’t understand, looking up in confusion, only seeing the woman’s noble back, appearing particularly out of place in this prison.

Because of Zheng Biyue’s single sentence, the guards dragged her to the washroom and doused her with cold water for a long time.

That was Yangzhou’s winter. For prison inmates without spare clothes or a charcoal fire, being doused with cold water was equivalent to a punishment that could kill at any time.

As cold water poured over her body again and again, she was so cold her skin hurt.

When thrown back into the cell, Yao Zelan rushed over to embrace her, but she feared her wet clothes would soak Yao Zelan, raising her hand to stop her, frantically shaking her head: “Mother, don’t touch me. Your health is poor—don’t touch me.”

However, she developed a high fever at midnight, and Yao Zelan still held her.

Her mother removed her clothes and gave her her own to wear, then their whole family huddled together, trying to survive that excessively cold winter.

From that day on, her mother began coughing incessantly.

In her previous life’s dreams, her mother had also died on the exile road from lung disease caused by prolonged, untreated cold.

If she hadn’t changed the outcome in this life, allowing her mother to live better in prison and escape the exile road in time for treatment, perhaps her mother, a physician, would still have died from this overly prolonged cold.

The source of this cold was Zheng Biyue’s noble “visit.”

More laughable was that she didn’t know why Zheng Biyue had come then, and after her visit, kept thinking again and again about when Shaoyan would come.

When would Shaoyan come to save her?

Little did she know this calamity was brought by Jiang Shaoyan.

Thinking of this, Luo Wanqing couldn’t help but laugh mockingly.

She took out the dagger Jiang Shaoyan had once given her from under her pillow, turning it in the darkness.

Should she kill her in passing when going to the Zheng family?

An absurd thought flashed through her mind before she immediately suppressed it.

Killing Zheng Biyue now, she couldn’t escape, and Zheng Biyue was merely the least significant of the three.

No need to be so hasty, she comforted herself.

She sheathed the dagger and tucked it back under her pillow.

While Luo Wanqing slept peacefully, at the Zheng mansion, Zheng Jinxin and Lu Lingchan couldn’t sleep all night.

After being chased into the Zheng mansion, Lu Lingchan had been hiding in the mansion’s garden. Only when night fell and everyone slept did he find the opportunity to sneak into Zheng Jinxin’s room.

He and Zheng Jinxin had secret meetings before. Zheng Jinxin had specifically told him the Zheng mansion’s guard shift times and personally led him through the Zheng family routes several times—he was already very familiar with them.

Sneaking into Zheng Jinxin’s room at midnight, she was sleeping when someone suddenly covered her mouth and nose. When she opened her eyes, she saw Lu Lingchan sitting by her bed, saying quietly, “Jinxin, it’s me.”

Zheng Jinxin froze, then couldn’t help feeling surprised. She pulled away Lu Lingchan’s hand, sat up, and asked puzzled: “Why did you come now?”

In the past, when he came, he would at least send word first. When had he ever barged in so directly at night?

Seeing him with a bundle, Zheng Jinxin grew more uneasy: “What is this…”

“Jinxin,” Lu Lingchan grasped Zheng Jinxin’s hand, urgently saying, “You must help me. Now only you can help me. The Supervision Department wants to arrest me. I fled to the Zheng mansion and can only temporarily stay with you. Tomorrow, you must notify my father and have him think of a way to get me out.”

Hearing this, Zheng Jinxin’s heart sank, and she immediately understood.

The Crown Prince had fallen, the Supervision Department wanted to arrest Lu Lingchan—wasn’t Lu Lingchan finished?

With such a wanted criminal hiding at her place, if discovered, she would be finished too.

She needed to distance herself early.

“No…”

“Jinxin!”

Seeing Zheng Jinxin’s thoughts, Lu Lingchan’s expression turned slightly cold as he immediately said: “You and I are about-to-be-engaged fiancés—we share glory and ruin together. If people discover I’m at your place, Jinxin,” Lu Lingchan leaned forward, lowering his voice, “your life is over. I’m not some ordinary servant your family could just beat to death without reporting. You’re a secondary daughter—you can’t cover up this kind of scandal.”

These words made Zheng Jinxin’s face pale. She clearly understood this was Lu Lingchan’s warning.

Even if she handed Lu Lingchan over to her family and they surrendered him in the Zheng family’s name, Lu Lingchan wouldn’t spare her.

How did he enter the Zheng family?

He would reveal everything about their previous secret meetings.

“Jinxin, I’m just temporarily in trouble. Once I weather this storm,” seeing her pale face, Lu Lingchan pulled her into his embrace, gently coaxing, “the Duke An’s mansion is still the Duke An’s mansion. I’ll remember your kindness for my whole life. You’re the most important woman in my life, hmm?”

Zheng Jinxin said nothing. She had no choice at all.

From the moment Lu Lingchan appeared in her room, she had no choice.

She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth: “What do I need to do?”

“Notify my father,” Lu Lingchan considered, “find a way to get me safely out of the Zheng mansion.”

As long as he got out safely.

They would both be fine.

Luo Wanqing slept and woke early.

Lu Lingchan was trapped in the Zheng mansion and couldn’t get out for now.

Zheng Jinxin wasn’t bold enough to tell her family after hiding Lu Lingchan. If she didn’t tell them, then with just one sheltered young lady, hiding someone was already quite an achievement.

According to these Inspectors’ abilities, they could count how many people were inside just by looking at wheel tracks. Fang Yuan had specially brought hunting dogs to squat at the gate—specially trained hounds with keen senses. With both people and dogs guarding together, if they let a young lady smuggle someone out of the city, Fang Yuan might as well quit.

Without arresting Lu Lingchan, subsequent progress was impossible. With free time, Luo Wanqing stayed at headquarters, organizing previous cases one by one, writing judgments, then finding Cui Heng to review and correct them for her.

In the evenings when free, she continued learning the qin with Cui Heng.

After spending a day like this, on the day before the Qinyın Festival, she heard Xing Ling rush up the back mountain to find her, urgently calling: “Inspector Liu!”

“What’s wrong?”

Luo Wanqing was writing a judgment when she looked up at the woman hurrying through the door.

Xing Ling frowned, appearing somewhat uneasy, but seeing Luo Wanqing’s calm-as-a-mountain demeanor, she also calmed down somewhat, only saying: “Zheng Jinxin went out today.”

“Where to?”

“Duke An’s mansion.”

Author’s Note:

[Mini Theater] Xie Heng: “Wife’s biggest career fan, dedicated to building career platforms for wife.” Luo Wanqing: “Whoa, that man walking over looks a bit like my husband.” Xie Heng: “??? Are you blind?”

[Mini Theater #2] Zheng Jinxin: “I’m scheming against people.” Zheng Biyue: “I’m scheming against people.” Luo Wanqing: “I’m scheming against people.” Li Guiyu: “I’m missing someone from the past.” Cui Heng: “Whoa, so many people.”

Don’t be nervous, there won’t be those life-and-death plots about mistaken identities. At most, just a little jealousy for flavor.

Fishing out an older brother passing by.