“We’ll take this room,” Chu Dingjiang said.
The servant entered and lit the lamps. Still hoping to rent out the other room, he added, “There’s only one bed here. It might be a bit cramped for two, especially with your height.”
“We’ll manage for now and make plans tomorrow,” Chu Dingjiang replied.
Having seen many guests come and go, the servant didn’t press further when he saw they weren’t changing their minds.
Chu Dingjiang tossed him a bag of coins. “Bring two buckets of hot water.”
Feeling the weight, the servant’s face lit up with a smile. “Certainly, sir. Please wait a moment.”
An Jiu unstrapped her bow and arrows, sitting down against the wall.
When on a mission, she wasn’t in the habit of sleeping in beds. She’d stand rather than sit if possible, as sitting or lying down would slow her reactions.
Chu Dingjiang opened the window slightly and leaned against the wall, looking out. The dock was visible from here. He had already scanned the room with his spiritual sense before entering, confirming it was unoccupied.
“You also think something’s off about this dock?” An Jiu asked.
Chu Dingjiang closed the window and sat down in front of her. “No, docks are information hubs. We can learn a lot here.” He paused. “You said something’s off. What do you mean?”
An Jiu shook her head. “I’m not sure. Something just feels strange.”
Chu Dingjiang carefully recalled everything they’d seen. Apart from people paying them extra attention along the way, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Their weapons were wrapped in leather, but still noticeable. It wasn’t unusual for people to look twice.
An Jiu closed her eyes, concentrating on sensing the dock’s situation.
The servant returned with two buckets of hot water. Chu Dingjiang casually asked, “When does this dock close?”
Having received a generous tip earlier, the servant answered patiently and in detail. “It varies. Sometimes there’s no work for a day or two, other times it’s non-stop for days and nights. I saw several large cargo ships dock yesterday afternoon. They’ll likely work through the night. Some guests will check out tomorrow. If you’re staying, I can reserve a better room for you.”
“Mm,” Chu Dingjiang responded noncommittally. “You can go now.”
The servant bowed slightly. “Of course. If you need anything, just pull the red cord by the bed.”
By now, An Jiu had thoroughly scanned the entire dock. She still had the same feeling – everything seemed normal, yet something felt off.
…
Late at night.
On the outskirts of Jiangning, at the foot of a hill on a private estate, a fresh grave mound had appeared. A woman in plain clothes with black hair stood before it, hands clasped behind her back. Dozens of men in black martial attire stood like tombstones around her.
A gentle breeze rustled the grass.
A woman in a blue cloth skirt approached, unchallenged by the guards.
“Master,” she said, stopping ten paces away.
Yelü Huangwu turned slightly, her voice hoarse. “Ning Zi.”
She raised her hand, dismissing the others.
Ning Yanli looked at the new grave. Once the others had left, she stepped closer to Yelü Huangwu. After a moment, she said, “My condolences.”
“Ha,” Yelü Huangwu laughed softly. “You think too highly of me. Besides, ‘joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure’ are luxuries I can’t afford.”
Ning Yanli looked up, taking in her beautiful profile. “Back then, you asked me to drug him. Do you regret it now? Huangwu, no one in this world will ever love you as he did. Even without erasing his memories and sanity, he would have willingly served you.”
Yelü Huangwu’s hand, hidden in her wide sleeve, clenched tightly, her crimson nails digging into her palm, drawing blood. Her face remained unchanged, even raising an eyebrow with a smile. “And what about you?”
Ning Yanli grasped her wrist through the robe, her expression calm. “What if you admit defeat just once? I won’t mock you. You know I can smell even the faintest trace of blood.”
She pulled out Yelü Huangwu’s hand and bandaged the wound. “If not for you saving me, there would be no Ning Yanli in this world. My life is yours. Cui Yichen was different. He owed you nothing.”
Yelü Huangwu stared at her bandaging, her facade crumbling. Mist gathered in her eyes, forming teardrops on her lashes.
“Do you know?” Yelü Huangwu said hoarsely. “I used mind control on him, yet he disobeyed and took an arrow for me.”
So Cui Yichen had never been truly controlled by her mind techniques. He followed her orders because he wanted to.
For a madman to achieve this level of devotion, even Yelü Huangwu’s deep-seated suspicions were overcome, and she believed in his sincerity.
“I haven’t changed at all!” Yelü Huangwu covered her face, tears instantly soaking the bandage. “I only trust the dead.”
Years ago, Cui Yichen had approached her in a moon-white robe, handsome and radiant like an immortal descending to earth. He had tied his white horse to a red willow tree in front of a tavern. As the wind blew, dappled light played across his face, and his eyes, clear to their depths, smiled at her.
Liao had never had such a person.
It had been a beautiful, pure beginning. When they first met, neither revealed their identities. Free from worldly concerns, they had talked of everything under the sun. She had been moved then.