Chapter 16: Murder

Chun Ying immediately stood up, frowning as she examined Chen Zhao before her. Not having seen him for several days, Chen Zhao looked haggard, his eyes filled with red veins, his lips dry and cracked with peeling skin. Chun Ying paused, then still said: “You’ve come.”

Chen Zhao plopped down on a stool in Chun Ying’s room, casually grabbing the teapot on the table and tilting his head back to pour it down. Chun Ying wanted to stop him but ultimately restrained herself, only letting a flash of impatience pass through her eyes before asking coldly: “What are you here for?”

Chen Zhao had just sent silver over two days ago—this time he definitely wasn’t coming as a god of wealth, but she didn’t know his purpose.

Chen Zhao didn’t answer Chun Ying’s question, only wiped his mouth and sneered: “You, a lowly servant, can actually afford to drink premium Junshan Silver Needle tea. You really don’t feel bad about spending the silver this master gave you!”

Chun Ying was most vain in life, especially detesting her origins. Chen Zhao’s words now were like pouring salt on her wounds. Chun Ying immediately became angry, but she rolled her eyes and instead smiled: “Yes, this slave is lowly, but what does master amount to? Don’t tell me you really think you’re a wealthy family’s young master? Or do you think that just by having Miss Jiang, you can climb up to the Minister’s mansion?”

Chen Zhao’s expression darkened. Chun Ying had hit his thoughts precisely, and her words were so grating.

Chun Ying ignored his expression and continued: “We’re all the same—as servants and maids, don’t we equally watch our masters’ faces? Besides, didn’t master willingly give this slave silver to spend? Or does master think his future prospects aren’t worth these few pieces of silver?”

“You…” Chen Zhao clenched his fists, squeezing out a few words through gritted teeth: “Don’t push people too far.”

“It’s you who bullied me, isn’t it,” Chun Ying smiled as she walked to Chen Zhao’s side, her jade hands slowly caressing Chen Zhao’s neck: “But what exactly are you here for today?”

Chen Zhao, intoxicated by the rich fragrant beauty emanating from Chun Ying, became somewhat distracted, his attitude softening: “Stop that. This master came today just to tell you—this master isn’t a fool to be taken advantage of. Your thinking you can follow this master for life seeking benefits is impossible. We should settle accounts clearly, after all this was a matter of mutual consent.”

Chun Ying’s hand tightened, leaving a bright red nail mark on Chen Zhao’s neck. She smiled slowly: “Could it be master has decided to renege on the debt after eating his fill? Mutual consent? You clearly forced yourself on me. I had never had any dealings with you before—everyone up and down the estate can testify. If you claim it was mutual consent, do you think the magistrate would believe your words in court?”

Chen Zhao knew these words would be difficult to convince even himself. He gritted his teeth: “What exactly do you want?”

Chun Ying’s gaze wandered over Chen Zhao. She herself was clear that though Chen Zhao had some silver, most of his wealth was still controlled by Zhang Lan. This matter absolutely could not be known by Zhang Lan—Zhang Lan was formidable, and who would suffer then was uncertain. But if Chen Zhao was a money tree, there would always come a day when it was drained dry. Better to be clean and decisive—making a killing wouldn’t be a loss.

Thinking to this point, Chun Ying’s voice softened once more, gentle as water: “It’s not that I don’t understand reason. After all, we’ve had some dealings… I couldn’t bear to truly drive you to death. But since you’ve taken my body, tell me—who would want me after this? You ought to give me some compensation. When I’m finally released from the manor, I still need a place to stay… a way to survive.”

Her slender jade fingers lightly pressed against Chen Zhao’s forehead.

“On East Street, Ten-Mile Row, there’s a three-entry courtyard. Go buy it for me. Once it’s done, our bridge will be a bridge, our road a road—no debts, no ties.”

“You’re insane,” Chen Zhao had already jumped to his feet before Chun Ying finished speaking, flinging off the hand she had resting on him. “Every inch of land on East Street is worth its weight in silver. A three-entry residence would cost at least a thousand taels! Where would I even get that kind of money? You think too highly of yourself. What are you, the top courtesan of the Yi Hong Brothel, worth a thousand gold a night?”

Chun Ying wasn’t angered. Instead, she laughed coldly: “My body may not match the brothel girls’, but your future, in your own eyes, is worth no more than a thousand silver taels? Don’t you think you’re underestimating yourself?”

“What exactly are you trying to do?” Chen Zhao asked through gritted teeth.

“This is already my greatest compromise. Of course, you can refuse,” Chun Ying said, her eyes icy. “But if you do, we’ll see each other in court.”

Chen Zhao’s face flushed bright red with rage. With a loud crash, he slammed the teapot onto the floor, smashing it to pieces.

“Don’t push me too far!”

“Chen Zhao!” Chun Ying was equally unrelenting, her eyes locked on his. “Are you giving it or not?”

Chen Zhao stood there, shaking with fury. He had long heard of Chun Ying’s brazenness and shamelessness, but never imagined that once entangled, she would drag him into such a quagmire. Just a few days ago, he had already quarreled with Zhang Lan after selling a plot of land. Now, Zhang Lan had locked up all the property deeds at home—he had no access to any of it. And Chun Ying? She continued to press him step by step.

He was broke. He had reached a dead end.

Chen Zhao looked up at Chun Ying.

She was staring at him with a mocking smile, so dazzling it hurt the eyes. The faint rouge smudged at the corner of her lips looked like a death sentence.

This kind of greedy beauty—once she opened her mouth, there would never be a day she was satisfied.

So this wouldn’t be the end.

If only she were dead.

If Chun Ying no longer existed in this world, he wouldn’t be in such disgrace.

—

Chun Ying was still basking in her moment of triumph, her mind filled with thoughts of the future, entirely unaware that across from her, Chen Zhao’s eyes had already turned red.

By the time she noticed something was wrong, it was already too late.

Chen Zhao lunged at her like a madman, shoving her violently to the ground. She opened her mouth to scream, but his hand had already clamped down over her mouth and nose.

Chun Ying struggled with all her might, but no matter how fierce her resistance, she was still a woman—physically no match for a man.

“Die, you wretched woman!” Chen Zhao had lost all sanity, laughing hysterically as he pinned her down.

Chun Ying’s eyes widened in panic, her hands clawing desperately at his arms, her legs kicking wildly. But her movements gradually weakened, her body going limp, until finally—she stopped breathing.

Chen Zhao loosened his grip.

Chun Ying’s lifeless eyes stared straight at him—frozen in a terrifying, uncanny expression.

Chen Zhao froze for a long moment. Then suddenly, as if awakening from a dream, he stumbled backward.

He had killed someone.

His whole body trembled as he staggered back, then reached out with trembling fingers to test her breath under her nose.

Nothing.

He collapsed onto the floor with a heavy thud, his limbs trembling uncontrollably.

For half an hour, he remained in a state of panicked shock. Then, slowly, he began to calm down.

He stared at Chun Ying’s lifeless face. After a moment, he sneered and spat viciously on it:

“Cheap whore—thought you could go against me?”

Then, dragging her body upright, he rummaged through the room for a large cloth sack. Stuffing Chun Ying entirely into it, he lifted it over his shoulder and crept out the door.

But what Chen Zhao didn’t know was that—hidden in the shadows, a pair of eyes had been watching his every move.

His “flawless” crime had been seen, from beginning to end.