Although Luo Huaimeng no longer had the bond of husband and wife with the Marshal, she was still a member of the Shi family. She would one day be buried in the Shi family’s ancestral grounds. She could not stand by and watch the Shi family be destroyed by a woman — nor did she wish to see her own son caught up in it all without cause.

If Qian Lan succeeded, the Marshal would not hesitate to name Shi Guang as his heir. When that day came, Shi Ting would have no choice but to fight to the death against him — or leave Bei Di, becoming an exile. With Shi Guang’s character, he would never suffer Shi Ting’s continued existence.

“Mother, please do not worry. Shi Ting and I have already made our arrangements. We are only waiting on news from Doctor Zhang.”

“You convinced Doctor Zhang?” Luo Huaimeng asked excitedly. “Doctor Zhang has served the Shi family for so many years, and no one has ever truly been able to win him over. Even the Marshal values him for precisely that reason and has always kept him on.”

“His bond with the Shi family runs deep, so when I went to ask for his help, he agreed without hesitation. He does not want to see the Shi family ruined by an outsider either.” Yan Qing said reassuringly, “Mother, please be at ease. Doctor Zhang and Shi Ting have already made their arrangement. Now it is only a matter of waiting for the right moment.”

“Since you both already have a plan, go ahead and carry it out. If there is anything you need from me, just say so.” Luo Huaimeng finished speaking, then asked with concern, “How is your father? You really didn’t need to rush back — it would have been more convenient to look after your father while staying at the Yan family home.”

Moved by Luo Huaimeng’s warmth and generosity, Yan Qing could not help but reach out and take her hand, saying softly, “Mother, thank you.”

Luo Huaimeng was taken aback for a moment, then shook her head. “You foolish child — I treat you like half a daughter. Why are you thanking me?”

Yan Qing’s nose prickled. “I lost my mother when I was very young, and my memory of her is very faint. I imagine she must have been just like you.”

Luo Huaimeng raised one hand and gently stroked her hair, smiling. “Do you call yourself foolish? Am I not your mother?”

Yan Qing smiled even as her eyes brimmed with tears. She murmured a heartfelt yes and could not help but nestle her head against Luo Huaimeng’s embrace.

Luo Huaimeng’s embrace was not as broad as Shi Ting’s — it even felt somewhat slight and fragile. Yet within it, she felt the warmth of being cared for and sheltered.

Yan Qing thought: so this is what a mother feels like. How wonderful.

~

Just as Luo Huaimeng had described, when Yan Qing and Shi Ting returned to the Shi family home and went to pay their respects to the Marshal, they had not even reached the door before they were stopped by Qian Lan’s people.

“Seventh Young Master, Seventh Young Madam — the Marshal is not available to see anyone at the moment.” Magpie said politely. “Madam has given orders that no one is to disturb the Marshal’s rest.”

Shi Ting’s brow furrowed. His cold gaze fixed on the maidservant until she did not dare raise her head. “I have just returned from Qianguan City. I have important matters to report to the Marshal.”

Magpie steeled herself and said, “These are Madam’s instructions. Please forgive us, Seventh Young Master.”

“Since the Marshal is ill, has a doctor been called?” Shi Ting asked gravely. “What did the doctor say?”

“The doctor said the Marshal’s illness requires quiet recuperation, which is why Madam has not allowed the Marshal to receive guests, lest his condition be aggravated.”

“I am asking you what illness it is,” Shi Ting said, his tone growing several shades sterner.

“Xingzhi, why trouble a servant so?” A warm, gracious voice sounded. Qian Lan lifted the curtain and stepped out, the appropriate smile on her face — neither so warm as to seem overfamiliar, nor so cool as to seem distant. That smile looked as though it had been practiced before a mirror a thousand times over. It was entirely professional.

Looking at that beautiful face, those features which bore a resemblance to the Chen Fangfang in the photograph, Yan Qing saw clearly: where Chen Fangfang had been gentle and serene, Qian Lan carried a hidden edge that sent a chill through people — like a gentle, venomous serpent, looking safe and harmless, yet one never knew when it might strike its deadly blow.

Thinking of all the lives lost because of her, of those charred, burned bodies, Yan Qing felt a deep revulsion.

How had Qian Lan managed to sleep easy and live on so calmly after killing so many people?

Was she not afraid of retribution?

Qian Lan came forward with an unhurried air and smiled. “Xingzhi, Yan Qing — the Marshal is indeed not well enough to see people at the moment. But I can assure you both that the Marshal has only a minor ailment. Nothing serious will come of it. He will recover before long. There is no need for concern.”

“If it is only a minor ailment, why can he not see people?” Shi Ting was blunt. “Or is it that Madam simply will not allow him to see people?”

“Xingzhi, what do you mean by that?” Qian Lan continued to smile. “Minor as it may be, it is still a contagious illness.”

She glanced at Yan Qing. “I hear that Old Master Yan has consumption. Yan Qing, you have been nursing him up close all this time — have you taken precautions? I’ve heard that illness is highly contagious. Once one catches it, there is no cure. The Marshal is already suffering from a minor ailment, and if you were to…”

Qian Lan left the second half of her sentence unsaid. Her meaning was clear enough: if Yan Qing were to pass something on to the Marshal, there would be serious consequences.

“Madam,” Shi Ting drew her attention back from Yan Qing. “Since you say it is a minor ailment, I must still hear it from the doctor himself. The Marshal is the lord of Bei Di. His health is tied to the stability of the entire region. I cannot simply take Madam’s word for it. How the Marshal’s health truly stands, and whether he genuinely cannot receive visitors — I need to hear it from the doctor in person.”

Qian Lan studied Shi Ting in silence. Seeing his expression grave and resolute, leaving no room for negotiation, she understood: Shi Ting was not like the others. He was not so easily dismissed. She could fool the other people in the Shi family, but Shi Ting alone was not easy to deal with. He had just come back from Qianguan City, and he would not let the matter rest without seeing the Marshal — but at this moment, it was still not the time to let him see the Marshal.

The only solution was to make him believe the Marshal was ill, and then give up completely.

And the Marshal had genuinely caught a cold. After Doctor Zhang came to examine him, that had been his conclusion as well.

“The Marshal’s cold symptoms are rather severe. It is best that everyone keep their distance,” Doctor Zhang advised. “Disinfect this room regularly. Receiving outside visitors is not advisable for the time being.”

Qian Lan glanced at Shi Ting — the look meant: you see, I was not lying to you.

Doctor Zhang then said, “I still need to go in and take the Marshal’s pulse once more, to prescribe accordingly.”

Qian Lan nodded graciously. “Doctor Zhang, please go ahead.”

She had once attempted to buy Doctor Zhang with money, only to discover he was a man entirely unmoved by such means. And it was precisely this quality that truly set her mind at ease — if she could not buy him, neither could anyone else.

Doctor Zhang entered the Marshal’s room. The Marshal was lying in bed, eyes closed, his face somewhat pale. He had visibly grown thinner since Doctor Zhang had last seen him.

Doctor Zhang felt a pang of sorrow. He and the Marshal were of similar age. He had been coming to the Shi family home to treat illness since Old Master Shi was still alive, and he had been present at Old Master Shi’s passing as well.

Seeing the Marshal in such a state, how could Doctor Zhang not feel a deep sense of grief.

Doctor Zhang had also suspected the Marshal might have some other illness, but after a careful examination, he had found no issue with the Marshal’s body apart from the high blood pressure that had long been present.

“Marshal.” Doctor Zhang stood beside the bed and called softly. “Marshal.”

Seeing that the Marshal had truly fallen asleep, Doctor Zhang cast a glance toward the door. From outside came the sounds of Shi Ting and Qian Lan speaking — their exchange carrying something of a charged atmosphere. Whatever they were saying, he could not quite make it out.

Doctor Zhang understood that Shi Ting had deliberately created this opening for him. He swiftly lifted the Marshal’s blanket and felt around at his waist. Sure enough, he found a sachet tied to the sash.

Doctor Zhang removed the sachet and brought it to his nose for a moment, then quickly tucked it into his pocket.

Shi Ting was still speaking with Qian Lan when Doctor Zhang hurried out of the room. “There is one medicinal ingredient I did not bring with me. I need to go back and fetch it. Madam, would you be so kind as to have a carriage sent to wait at the gate for me?”

Seeing Doctor Zhang’s urgency, Qian Lan had no reason to suspect anything. “I will have people send a carriage right away. Doctor Zhang, please go quickly.”

Doctor Zhang and a maidservant left the Shi family home together through the main gate.

They had not gone far when Doctor Zhang suddenly stopped.

“Miss, I have an urgent need to relieve myself. Would you mind holding my medicine case?” Doctor Zhang said politely to the young maidservant. “I need just a moment.”

The maidservant flushed and quickly took the medicine case from him. “Please go ahead, Doctor Zhang. The outhouse is just over there.”

Doctor Zhang thanked her and walked briskly around a cluster of decorative rocks to the outhouse at the corner of the wall.

Inside the outhouse, someone had been waiting for some time. The person was gaunt and hollow-eyed — a woman weathered by years of hardship.

“Are you Zhang Sao?” Doctor Zhang ventured.

Zhang Sao nodded.

Doctor Zhang quickly pulled the sachet from his pocket and handed it over.

The moment Zhang Sao saw the embroidery on it, tears fell from her eyes without restraint. Even after so many decades, she could recognize the second young miss’s needlework at a glance — it was work she had taught her herself, hand in hand.

She could not bring herself to imagine that the second young miss would one day enter this Shi family home. She could even less bring herself to imagine that the deaths of her family were connected to the second young miss.

Doctor Zhang, seeing Zhang Sao’s hands trembling, could not help but urge her: “Zhang Sao, we must hurry.”

Zhang Sao very quickly returned the sachet to Doctor Zhang. “The second young miss’s needlework — one look is all I need to remember it. Please take it, Doctor.”

Doctor Zhang took it back with some doubt. The sachet was packed full of powder inside, but the opening had been stitched shut with dense, close-woven needlework. There was no way to open it without destroying the original embroidery pattern.

“Zhang Sao, smell this — what is packed inside here?”

Zhang Sao sniffed it carefully for a moment, then shook her head. “I can’t identify it. It doesn’t smell like a fragrance, nor like herbal medicine.”

“Have you memorized the pattern?”

“I have.”

Doctor Zhang gave a nod, then turned and left the outhouse.

Shi Ting and Yan Qing had been waiting in Zhuo Xin Garden all along, looking as though they would not leave without a clear result. Qian Lan had been playing for time with them in every direction, until Doctor Zhang came hurrying back.

Doctor Zhang cupped his hands in a brief greeting, then entered the Marshal’s room once more.

Qian Lan watched Doctor Zhang’s retreating figure, a glimmer of suspicion flickering across her eyes.