The lamplight in the room dimmed slightly, and a thread of cold crept through the air. Qin Yao, whose five senses were keener than an ordinary person’s, was immediately on guard.
She looked around in puzzlement and, in a quiet motion, removed the Soul-Devouring Bell from around her neck and held it in her palm.
Zhu Qi’er, however, seemed to wake as if from a deep dream. She straightened abruptly and looked at Lin Xiao: “This portrait is indeed my grandmother — that I do not deny. But I have never seen this silver needle, nor have I ever used it to harm Linglong. How can a single blacksmith’s word alone be enough to conclude that I am the killer? Furthermore, the whole matter of my impersonating Cui Linglong was done entirely at Cui Jingsheng’s instigation — it was never my own initiative. If the Young Lord and His Highness do not believe this, you may very well… bring Cui Jingsheng to confront me directly. Cui Jingsheng and Linglong were at odds to begin with — it may well be that it was Cui Jingsheng who murdered Linglong and is now placing the blame on me!”
This woman truly has no conscience. Lin Xiao watched Zhu Qi’er with an expressionless face. When Wei Bo and the others had returned from their inquiries in Youzhou, they had mentioned that Cui Linglong in her lifetime had treated Zhu Qi’er with unfailing care and generosity. Even though her own life under her brother and sister-in-law’s stinginess was far from comfortable, she had still regularly helped provide for the Zhu household.
Food and fruit went without saying — even clothes and cosmetics had never been lacking. Once, when Old Grandmother Zhu had fallen ill, it was Cui Linglong who had pleaded with her brother to hire a physician for the old woman, and afterward, when the Zhu family could not produce the medical fee, it had also been Cui Linglong who paid it out of her own pocket.
Yet all of this had earned Zhu Qi’er’s betrayal rather than her gratitude. Purely for the temptation of the title of favored concubine, Zhu Qi’er had cast aside the sisterly bond between them without a second thought and struck the killing blow. And now, with the evidence laid out in front of her, she was still making excuses.
The chill in the room thickened further. This time it was not only Qin Yao who felt it — even Prince Lan, Cui Shi, and the others perceived it.
From the floor came a faint rustling sound.
Everyone looked toward the source, and one person let out a terrified scream: “It — it’s moving—”
The black cloth around Zhu Qi’er began to unfurl, inch by inch. A cloud of black mist, dark as ink, seeped out from within the wrappings like the tentacles of some creature, drifting out slowly in all directions.
No one could move for fear. Even Qin Yao, who had never seen anything like this, was momentarily frozen.
That black mist carried a thick scent of osmanthus blossoms. At first it drifted aimlessly through the air; then, gradually, it gathered itself into the shape of a human figure.
“Linglong—” Zhu Qi’er pressed her hands over her mouth in terror.
The dark human shape drifted and floated toward Zhu Qi’er, and then in an instant it suddenly dispersed and reformed into the silhouette of a young girl wearing her hair in the baby buns style of childhood, her head bent as though over a piece of needlework.
After a moment, another young woman’s silhouette appeared from the distance — hair coiled in a ring-bun — and drifted slowly toward the first figure, taking her by the hand and drawing her to her feet.
The black mist shifted again, conjuring a swing. One girl pushed the other on the swing, setting it in motion. Though mere illusion, every detail was vivid and lifelike. The girls’ skirts and half-length sleeves billowed and streamed in the wind, as though brimming with boundless joy.
“It is Cui Linglong’s resentment—” Qin Yao at last understood what she was seeing, and turned to speak quietly to Lin Xiao beside her. The black mist had no substance, could make no sound, could hurt no one — it could only communicate its intent through shifting images.
Before the words were out of her mouth, the black mist concentrated again, then dispersed once more. The two young women were sitting side by side, apparently engaged in warm, intimate conversation. The ring-bun girl had one arm concealed behind her back, a silver needle showing and hiding in her sleeve. She hesitated for a moment — then, while the girl with the baby buns was in the middle of speaking, raised her arm slowly from behind, and at a moment when the other was wholly unprepared, plunged the needle into the back of her neck.
At this, Zhu Qi’er finally shattered completely. She shook her head in silent sobbing, her face wet and glistening, no longer able to tell whether she was trembling from terror or remorse.
The black mist drifted close to Zhu Qi’er: “Why?” It was utterly soundless — yet everyone present seemed to hear the question spoken in their ears.
Through her veil of tears, Zhu Qi’er dimly saw Linglong soaring freely on the swing, her back against a mud-walled ruin that could not contain the girl’s radiant, springtime vitality.
Her heart ached with grief. She reached out through the emptiness and tried to touch Linglong’s face.
“Linglong—” She was choked with tears, whispering hoarsely.
The moment her fingers made contact, the girl’s full, living face dissolved into nothing. The swing stood there alone, and beside it there was suddenly nothing but a solitary, empty figure.
That figure looked around blankly for a moment, and then, slowly, both hands slid toward her own throat and seized it in a fierce grip.
“No — she has been seized by the phantom Cui Linglong conjured—” Qin Yao hurried forward two steps, about to deploy the Soul-Devouring Bell, when she suddenly remembered that doing so would consume Cui Linglong’s soul along with it. She pivoted and drew a spirit talisman from her robes instead.
Lin Xiao watched with cold eyes as Zhu Qi’er strangled herself, making not the slightest move to intervene.
The talisman Qin Yao cast had barely made contact with the black mist when Zhu Qi’er let out a wretched, pained moan and collapsed to the floor. But it had been a step too late — when Qin Yao went forward to check, she was already without any breath.
On the road out of the estate, Qin Yao reflected aloud: “That black mist was born from Cui Linglong’s resentment after death. It had no substance and could not kill of its own accord — Zhu Qi’er most likely died from her own overwhelming guilt and grief, which caused her heart to give out.”
A thought struck her, and she stamped her foot: “What a pity — in the end there was no opportunity to ask her who the third host of Everlasting Yearning is. What a waste.”
Lin Xiao looked at her with amused curiosity and asked: “Is Everlasting Yearning the same Gu Poison you spoke of last night?”
Qin Yao nodded: “Both hosts have now met with violent deaths. The third host remains entirely without a lead. I can only wonder — Zhu Qi’er had been in Chang’an for little more than a month, and apart from Prince Lan’s household, she had no friends or relatives at all. Where could she have obtained the Gu Poison?”
Lin Xiao frowned: “From the moment she arrived at the household, Cui Shi was always taking her out around the streets and markets — they visited practically every part of the city. I’ll have Chang Rong and the others look into their recent movements. Something may turn up.”
“That would be ideal.” Qin Yao smiled, a bright and guileless smile like a crabapple blossom on a spring branch.
Something within Lin Xiao’s chest quivered, as though scratched by an unseen hand.
As if scalded, he pulled his gaze back and was quiet for a moment, then said, with just a hint of awkwardness: “It is nearly dawn, and today is my first day in my new post — I must go to the palace to present myself. You have been up all night. I will have Chang Rong escort you back to Qingyun Abbey.”
“There is no need at all.” Qin Yao waved her hand and pointed to the gate. “Our abbey’s Old Zhou has been waiting out there for me the whole night — I can’t imagine how worried he must be. I am leaving now. I gratefully decline the Young Lord’s kind offer.”
With that, she straightened her Daoist robe, stepped out, and was about to walk out the gate.
At that moment, Chang Rong appeared out of nowhere, a red sandalwood food box in his hands, calling from a distance with a grin: “Young Lord! The curdled milk with fresh cherries from Derong Pavilion has been fetched back! They only just opened — this is the very first serving of the day!”
A flush crept up the back of Lin Xiao’s neck. He stood there and watched helplessly as Chang Rong walked up and handed him the food box, and could only accept it in silence and pass it to Qin Yao. “I should have invited you to breakfast, but Father has been taken unwell, and I must go to court. This establishment’s curdled milk with cherries is said to be quite good — if you do not mind, take it to fill your stomach for now.”
Qin Yao stared at him wide-eyed. Last night she had said something offhand to Zhu Qi’er about the curdled cherries at Derong Pavilion being good — she had said it purely on a whim, never imagining that he had taken note of it and had someone out buying it first thing in the morning.
She lifted the lid of the food box. Nestled at the center was a white porcelain bowl carved with lotus flowers. Lamb-fat jade curdled milk cradled bright, crimson-red cherries, wisps of steam rising from it — the picture of irresistible appeal.
She tilted her head and studied Lin Xiao’s expression carefully. Seeing that he looked entirely composed, without any readable emotion, she took the food box with perfect ease: “Thank you for the Young Lord’s kindness — I shall accept without ceremony.” She smiled at him, and holding the food box, she walked out toward the gate.
Chang Rong stood to the side having a sudden revelation. So that was why the Young Lord had been pressing him since the crack of dawn to go buy that curdled milk with cherries — so it was all for this little Daoist girl?
Chang Rong rubbed his chin and, for the first time, assessed Qin Yao with his young man’s eyes.
Her looks were quite pretty — but could not honestly be called extraordinarily stunning. Among the noble household women who regularly visited Prince Lan’s estate alone, there were at least a few who could more or less hold their own against her.
As for her temperament — it seemed generous and unaffected, nothing like those princesses and commandery princesses from the palace who were constantly given to playing petty moods, tiring and cloying in the extreme. But then again, they had only met a handful of times; you couldn’t read a person’s character from so few encounters. For the sake of her having helped the Young Lord twice, he would provisionally assume she was the same inside as she appeared on the outside.
The hardest thing of all, though, was the question of family. He had already made inquiries through Wei Bo — this young Daoist girl’s father was nothing more than an Astronomer-Royal, a man who had passed the imperial examinations through sheer effort and worked his way up step by step. And her mother’s family, he had heard, were cloth merchants in the Chang’an markets. Scholars, farmers, artisans, merchants — merchants being the lowest of the four. With origins so ordinary, she could never dream of being the Young Lord’s principal wife.
A concubine? That Qu Enze was at least a man of the examination path, a man of upright character — how could he possibly consent to his daughter becoming someone’s concubine?
And beyond all this, she was also a Daoist.
However he looked at it, this arrangement was entirely impractical — unless the Young Lord were to insist on pressing the matter all the way to the Emperor and petition for an imperially bestowed marriage. Otherwise, these two were a match that not even a long pole could bring together.
While Chang Rong’s thoughts wandered far afield on Lin Xiao’s behalf, Lin Xiao himself was in an inexplicably good mood. He watched Qin Yao pass through the gate and then lifted his gaze to take in the colour of the sky. “It grows late. Let us go too, or we will be late for the palace.”
They had barely stepped out of the gate when Jiang Sanlang was already waiting there on horseback — a magnificent, pure-white Ferghana stallion. He was dressed in the purple robe and gold-jade belt of a third-rank military officer; his features were striking, his bearing erect. Horse and rider together made an eye-catching sight.
Duke Lu of the Guo state had raised three legitimate sons. The eldest had already received his title as heir and was the pillar of the family; the second son currently held an important post at court. Only the youngest, Sanlang, being the old Duke’s son in his twilight years, had inevitably been rather indulged by his parents as he grew up, and by the time he came of age his temperament was decidedly free-spirited — he took almost nothing seriously. By the age of sixteen last year, he had still had no position in official life.
The old couple had long since given up hoping their youngest could follow in his two elder brothers’ footsteps. They had simply reckoned on putting a bit more of their private savings aside for him when they passed, to give him something of an advantage — the rest would have to depend on his own fortune.
Who could have predicted that last year, Jiang Sanlang accompanied the Emperor on an imperial hunt and, among the assembled children of the nobility, stood out from them all and took first place without any fanfare. The Duke was overjoyed and, seizing the moment of imperial praise, petitioned on his son’s behalf for the rank of General of Established Virtue, Senior Third Grade — finally setting his heart at rest.
The sky had not yet fully brightened, and in the dim light of early morning, it was only as he drew near that Lin Xiao noticed with a start that the dark circles under Jiang Sanlang’s eyes were even deeper than they had been two days before. His complexion was naturally fair to begin with — by contrast, the shadows appeared all the more alarming.
“Are you truly bewitched by something? How does your color only keep getting worse?” Lin Xiao’s hand on the reins paused.
“What nonsense are you talking? I eat well and sleep well — what am I bewitched by?” Jiang Sanlang said, somewhere between laughter and exasperation. “I got up at the crack of dawn to come and wait for you on your first day taking up your post — and you respond by cursing me?” His voice, at least, was as clear as ever, with not the slightest trace of weakness.
“Why would I curse you?” Lin Xiao felt a vague unease, and a thought occurred to him. “Your father and mother — have they not said anything about your poor color recently?”
“Not once! Not once!” Jiang Sanlang’s patience gave out. “Can you not talk about something else? You were gone from Chang’an for one trip and came back spouting all this strange talk.” He gave the reins a jerk and rode on ahead on his own.
Chang Rong privately also found Jiang Sanlang’s color rather alarming, though he had no opening to speak on the matter. He glanced around wistfully — what a pity that the little Daoist girl had gone. She had strong abilities; if Jiang Sanlang were truly bewitched by something, she would certainly be able to see through to the root of it.