Hua Yitang reclined comfortably on the daybed, legs crossed and feet swaying lazily. He leaned against thick cushions wrapped in a layer of bamboo cooling mat — breathable enough to wick away sweat, yet not too hard. Having spent several days tied to a tree while playing the Flower God, his waist and inner thighs were covered in bruises. These were his glorious medals of honor from the performance, and had they been in a more convenient location to display, he would have shown them off long ago.

Before the daybed sat a low table. Lin Sui’an, Fangke, and Clerk Zhu each occupied one side, staring glumly at the district map of Cheng County spread across the table. Though their impersonation of the Flower God had achieved some modest success, the Longshen Temple’s influence ran deep and its power was not to be underestimated — they still needed to proceed with caution. Most critically, they had yet to locate the source of the ritual water’s primary ingredient: the Longshen Fruit.

“Based on the concentration of the ritual water,” Fangke said, “brewing one bottle requires half a jin of Longshen Fruit — that is, thirteen fruits.”

“The secret vault holds at least four hundred bottles of ritual water,” Hua Yitang said. “Add what’s in the dyeing vats, and the total Longshen Fruit the Longshen Temple can draw upon must exceed several hundred jin.”

“Such a massive demand could never be met by wild Longshen Fruit alone,” Lin Sui’an said. “There must be a large-scale artificial cultivation site.”

Zhu Dachang traced his finger along the outer edges of the Cheng County map, back and forth. “But where on earth have they planted the Longshen Fruit?”

“Not on Cheng Mountain. The southern shore of Longshen Lake has only a small amount of wild fruit, and none was found around the hidden tunnel exit either. Could it be—” Hua Yitang tapped the map. “Inside the Longshen Temple itself?”

“I’ve already turned the temple inside out, top to bottom. Not so much as a leaf, let alone any fruit.” Yun Zhong Yue, wearing Xuanqing Daoist’s face, climbed in through the window and squeezed himself unceremoniously beside Zhu Dachang. Zhu Dachang’s stomach turned at the sight of those Daoist robes, but though he was furious, he dared not show it and could only quietly shuffle his backside away.

“Brother Yun, don’t you need to be at the Longshen Temple keeping an eye on Xuanming?” Hua Yitang said. “Coming here every day to freeload off my food and drink is hardly proper, is it?”

Yun Zhong Yue tossed a pastry into his mouth and smiled. “Xuanming the Shanren is barely managing to keep himself afloat these days — coughing blood every day, heart palpitations every night. Doctor Fang, that lethal poison trigger of yours really is something vicious. I’d say we don’t even need to lift a finger ourselves. Xuanming won’t last more than a few more days.”

Fangke shot Yun Zhong Yue a sideways glance. “The poison trigger I prepared shouldn’t be capable of such an effect. There’s no need for such flattery — Fang cannot accept such praise.”

Yun Zhong Yue started. “I swear I’m not flattering you in the slightest — it’s the truth!”

These words stunned everyone into silence.

Mu Xia came over carrying a fruit platter. The fruits had been cut into thin, translucent slices fanned out like flower petals, with delicate wooden picks arranged neatly along the edges. Mu Xia speared a slice and held it out to Hua Yitang, who took it and promptly passed it to Lin Sui’an. Mu Xia could only sigh and spear a second piece for Hua Yitang.

“Earlier, when I was following Fourth Young Master’s orders and chatting with the neighbors to gather information about the Longshen God, I heard quite a few strange rumors,” Mu Xia said. “Nothing earth-shattering — things like hens not laying eggs, the grinding donkey losing its coat, household dogs dying for no reason. I wonder whether any of it might be connected to the Longshen God?”

Hua Yitang and Lin Sui’an exchanged a glance, both furrowing their brows.

“Clerk Zhu,” Hua Yitang said, “where does Cheng County draw its drinking water?”

“Ever since the Longshen Temple sealed the south gate and forbade anyone from approaching Longshen Lake, the people have been relying almost entirely on well water.” Zhu Dachang understood at once, and drew a sharp breath. “Could it be—”

“Cheng County’s water supply has been contaminated,” Lin Sui’an said.

Zhu Dachang’s face went pale.

“The old physician in Guangdu mentioned that Longshen Fruit favors warmth and shade, growing mostly along damp, waterlogged ground,” Fangke said. “Given those habits, it could also be cultivated underground across a wide area.”

Hua Yitang let out a cold laugh. “Doctor Fang’s medicine was at most a trigger. The reason Xuanming has been so deeply poisoned and beyond recovery is almost certainly because he planted the Longshen Fruit in the underground tunnels or caverns near the Longshen Temple. The toxins from the groundwater there would be even more concentrated than in the rest of the city. He has truly brought this upon himself.”

“Clerk Zhu,” Lin Sui’an said, “are you familiar with the underground water system of Cheng County?”

Zhu Dachang wiped the sweat from his brow. “I know it, I know it — I understand!” He quickly picked up his brush and sketched out the underground water flow on the district map, then called Li Nili over and gave him hurried instructions. He handed over the map and Li Nili, expression shocked, clasped his fists and withdrew at once.

“Cheng County sits beside a lake and against a mountain. The underground water system is complex — surveying it will take time,” Zhu Dachang said. “Will we have enough?”

“We will,” Hua Yitang said.

“We won’t,” Fangke said.

Zhu Dachang was bewildered. He looked at Hua Yitang, then at Fangke, unsure which to believe.

Fangke glared at Hua Yitang. “The first batch of water-bathed silver toads that Jin Ruo smuggled into Cheng County through the Pure Gate have already been used up by you. The next batch can only be transported from Yangdu port, and there’s no telling how long that will take. The antidote supply can’t keep up — we won’t have enough.”

Hua Yitang rubbed his nose and didn’t dare argue.

Distributing so much Hundred Flower Dew was all for the sake of the Flower God’s radiant image — without it, he would have been nothing more than a God of Wealth at best. How could he have hoped to compete with a Dragon God who wielded power over life and death?

Thinking this, Hua Yitang’s eyes drifted over to Lin Sui’an, who had been frowning in silence the whole time, looking deep in thought. He was about to say something when, unexpectedly, Yun Zhong Yue spoke first.

“Lin Niangzi, that expression of yours — have you thought of another clue?”

Hua Yitang puffed out his cheeks and glared at Yun Zhong Yue, thinking that this thieving scoundrel was becoming more and more presumptuous, brazenly stealing his moment.

“I’ve been thinking about the words the late Manor Master Qiu said before he died,” Lin Sui’an said. “Something about them has been bothering me.”

Hua Yitang finally seized his opening and hurriedly asked, “Wasn’t Manor Master Qiu already delirious before he died?”

“But in his final moment, he seemed to regain consciousness for just an instant, and said the word ‘sha.'”

Everyone echoed: “‘Sha’?”

“Kill who?” Zhu Dachang asked.

Lin Sui’an shook her head. “Thinking back on it now, perhaps what he said wasn’t ‘sha’ — kill — but ‘cha’ — tea.”

“How so?” Hua Yitang asked.

Lin Sui’an sat up straight, her expression grave. “I visited Manor Master Qiu’s tea room twice. The first time, I wasn’t poisoned. The second time, I was. The strange thing is: during my second visit, I neither ate nor drank anything in that room. So how was I poisoned?”

“You mentioned there was a very strong incense burning in the tea room. Could the incense have been poisoned?” Hua Yitang asked.

Lin Sui’an nodded. “That’s likely the case. But I smelled that same incense during my first visit too. The only difference was that on that occasion, I drank a cup of tea that Manor Master Qiu had brewed. While making the tea, he kept rambling on about how it was an herbal tea recipe sent to him by his old friend — the proprietor of the Zhu Family Medicine Shop — made with many rare medicinal ingredients. Because the tea was richly fragrant and its color luminously beautiful, he had named it ‘Xiang Long.'” She paused. “My guess is that the herbal tea was an antidote to the Longshen Fruit.”

Fangke perked up at once. “Does Lin Niangzi still remember the specific blend of medicinal ingredients?”

Lin Sui’an gave Fangke a rather mournful look, thinking that Doctor Fang was asking quite a lot of her. Those herbs had all been ground into powder, and what they smelled like was nothing but an indistinguishable jumble of bitter, strange odors. Even if they hadn’t been powdered, she wouldn’t have recognized them anyway.

“What did the herbal tea taste like?” Fangke pressed.

Lin Sui’an’s expression grew even more pained. “About on par with Ita’s cooking.”

“‘Xiang Long’—” Hua Yitang murmured. “Could it be—”

“A homophone for ‘Jiang Long’ — subduing the dragon?” Yun Zhong Yue offered.

Hua Yitang had been robbed of his line again and was quite displeased about it. He glared at Yun Zhong Yue and quickened his pace of speech. “The recipe may not be the key. Perhaps we should consider it from another angle. The mechanisms of both the Xian De Manor and the Si Mian Manor hidden tunnels were carved reliefs — the one in Si Mian Manor depicted Longshen Fruit, while the one in Xian De Manor depicted—”

“Tea blossoms,” Lin Sui’an finished.

Fangke’s eyes lit up. “Within a hundred paces of any poison, there must be an antidote. Longshen Fruit grows in Cheng County; local physicians know it best. Perhaps they long ago discovered what counteracts it, and recorded that discovery in the tea recipe and the carved relief. This so-called ‘subduing the dragon’ must be an allusion to subduing the Longshen Fruit. Lin Niangzi, do you still remember what variety of tea Manor Master Qiu brewed?”

A look of astonishment crossed Lin Sui’an’s face. “It was Cheng County’s local specialty — Hundred Flower Tea.”

Everyone fell silent and stared at each other for a long moment before their gazes drifted, as one, toward the outer courtyard.

Ita was directing Qiu Laoban, Bingsi, and the others in simmering the base broth for the antidote. The four men were regaining their language faculties very slowly — even now they could only get out a few words at a time — which, as it happened, complemented Ita’s thick-accented Tang speech perfectly. Communication between them was entirely unimpeded. After a few days of working together, Ita had already supplanted Lin Sui’an’s position and become the de facto leader of the four.

“Simmer medicine — low flame!” Ita commanded.

The four men echoed: “Low flame.”

“Take your time, no rush.”

“No rush.”

“Careful — fan it.”

“Fan it.”

Xiao Yu sat nearby with her cheek propped in her palm, watching with her eyes curved into happy crescents. “Ita impressive! Ita mighty!”

Lin Sui’an clicked her tongue. Hua Yitang waved his little fan with a flourish. “Ah, my good fortune just keeps on coming — there’s no stopping it.”

Fangke couldn’t be bothered with him and rose to call Xiao Yu over for a pulse reading. He had examined her once before, when she had first promised Ita her help, and at the time he had noted her poisoning was very mild — he had been quite relieved and sent her off with just a small vial of antidote. Now, several days later, when he listened to her pulse again, he discovered that the Longshen Fruit poison in Xiao Yu had been completely purged — faster than anyone else’s.

Xiao Yu sat stiffly on her cushion as a ring of eyes surrounded her — Hua Yitang, Lin Sui’an, Yun Zhong Yue, and Zhu Dachang all watching with gleaming expressions. Fangke’s gaze was the most intense; his normally sunken eyes shone like a wild wolf’s in the mountains.

Xiao Yu broke into a cold sweat. “Doctor Fang, just say what you want to say. Don’t stare at me like that — it’s giving me the creeps.”

“Where do you gather your Hundred Flower Tea?” Fangke asked.

“The back mountain of Cheng Mountain. There’s a large wild tea grove there.”

“Are there Longshen Fruits growing nearby?”

“…I never noticed.”

“Besides yourself, who else regularly drinks Hundred Flower Tea?”

Xiao Yu’s face dimmed. “Besides Grandfather, no one likes it. Hundred Flower Tea doesn’t taste good when brewed. Tea houses won’t buy it, city folk look down on it, and the roadside tea stalls outside town can barely sell a few bowls of it.”

“I recall that when we first entered the city, there were a few farmhands drinking tea at your stall,” Hua Yitang said.

“You mean Brother Li and the others? Yes, they drink some too,” Xiao Yu said. “They only come because my tea is cheap.”

“When Jin Ruo observed the crowd during the Longshen Temple’s offering day,” Lin Sui’an said, “he noted that almost every resident’s weight was about forty percent below normal. Only Xiao Yu and those few farmhands appeared no different from ordinary people.”

“Hold on,” Yun Zhong Yue said, “could it truly be that you searched a thousand times through the crowd, and yet the antidote was right within arm’s reach all along?”

“Not an antidote — but a substitute for the water-bathed silver toad as a medicinal catalyst.” A hard smile flickered across Fangke’s gaunt face. “Clerk Zhu, would you be so kind as to bring those farmhands to the county office?”

Zhu Dachang was frightened enough by Fangke’s smile to bolt out the door at once, going to find the constables for help. Fangke turned and went to his workbench, clattering about with his bottles and jars, even laying out his autopsy instruments — pulling them out one by one and wiping each clean, smiling grimly all the while.

Yun Zhong Yue watched with mounting dread. “Hey, hey, hey — your little coroner isn’t planning to cut those men open for experiments, is he?”

Hua Yitang’s face twitched. “He should… hopefully not…”

“Surely not…” Lin Sui’an added uncertainly.

Just then, Fangke picked up his large wooden case and headed straight for the kitchen, calling out for Mu Xia to help him build a mousetrap.

The three of them let out a collective sigh of relief.

“Lin Niangzi,” Yun Zhong Yue said, “think back — what else did the late Manor Master Qiu say?”

Lin Sui’an scratched her forehead. “He also mentioned his younger brother, Cheng County Magistrate Qiu Liang — said Qiu Liang was very strong, able to carry several full water vats, and that it had been a long time since he’d seen him, and that he missed him very much.”

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Yun Zhong Yue said. “Surely Qiu Liang isn’t already dead, is he?”

“No, that isn’t what he was trying to say.” Hua Yitang waved his little fan rapidly. “I remember that Xian De Manor was plagued by strange occurrences, and one of them involved the water vats.”

Lin Sui’an nodded. “My job at Xian De Manor — mine and Qiu Laoban’s — was to fill ten large water vats every day. The manor kitchen never had its fires lit, yet every day those ten vats of water and all the firewood would be completely used up.”

Hua Yitang snapped his fan shut. “There is something wrong with those water vats!”

Lin Sui’an nodded. “Tonight I’ll take Qiu Laoban to investigate.”

Nanny Zhu walked in with a cheerful air and settled into the seat Fangke had vacated. “Fourth Young Master, it’s done. After I spoke with them, the entire Zhu clan is now completely convinced of the Flower God’s existence. At last we can stand against the Longshen Temple on equal footing.”

“You’ve worked hard, Auntie Zhu.” Hua Yitang smiled and poured her a cup of tea. “Now we just need one more thing to light the fire.”

Yun Zhong Yue glanced at Lin Sui’an. “What is this troublemaker scheming now?”

Lin Sui’an shrugged.

Hua Yitang fanned himself with a flourish, swaying his head back and forth with evident pleasure. “Now that this Flower God of mine is at the height of his power, radiating majesty in all eight directions, it is only natural to press the advantage while fortune favors us.” He drew a scroll from his sleeve and unrolled it with a dramatic snap, holding it up for display. “The next step, naturally, is to commission a statue and shrine bearing the Flower God’s peerlessly handsome and magnificent likeness — grinding the Longshen Temple underfoot and seizing Cheng County in one decisive blow!”

Everyone stared at the portrait in Hua Yitang’s hands, dumbfounded. The immortal in the painting was draped in rosy celestial light, his beauty unrivaled and transcendent — lotus blossoms beneath his feet, a hundred flowers blooming at his back. The artistry was extraordinary: every brushstroke precise down to the finest hair, especially the folds of his robes, rendered in every variation of height, depth, angle, curve, billow, and drift — natural and fluid, as if wrung from the very essence of creation. Gold powder had been mixed into the ink, so that when the scroll trembled, the immortal’s robes shimmered and seemed to stir with life. Were it not for the face — unmistakably that of Yangdu’s foremost wastrel, which was admittedly something of an eyesore — this work would have deserved a place among the national treasures.

“Don’t tell me you painted this yourself?” Yun Zhong Yue said.

“Who else in all the world,” Hua Yitang said smugly, “but this Fourth Young Master of the Hua Family could capture the Flower God’s world-overturning beauty with such breathtaking accuracy?”

Nanny Zhu’s eyes shone with admiration. “What a magnificent painting. If it were made into embroidery, it would sell throughout all five great cities of the Tang Kingdom!”

“But of course!” Hua Yitang said.

Lin Sui’an pressed her hand to her forehead.

Yun Zhong Yue turned his face away, expression trembling, unable to look directly at it.

In all his years roaming the jianghu, he had never encountered anyone quite so brazenly shameless.

This was Qiu Laoban’s first time slipping into Xian De Manor at night, and despite having Lin Sui’an beside him, he was tense enough to break out in a full-body sweat.

Lin Sui’an, by contrast, wore an expression of complete indifference. She scaled the wall with ease and strolled through the manor, looking around as she went, entirely at her leisure — as though she were taking a leisurely walk in a private garden. Qiu Laoban, alarmed to his core, cautioned her several times not to be so conspicuous, all of which she ignored.

He soon understood why Lin Sui’an was so unworried. Xian De Manor was pitch-dark and completely deserted. Ever since the tale of the Flower God’s divine manifestation had spread throughout Cheng County, the Qiu clan’s influence had declined day by day. Qiu Hong appeared to have accepted his fate; he had been shutting himself inside his private residence and not stepping out for days. According to Old Qiu Bathe, the Qiu clan’s elders had all moved into Qiu Hong’s residence these past few days, and no one knew what they were plotting.

“Lin Niangzi, are you looking for something in particular?” Even knowing the manor was empty, Qiu Laoban still didn’t dare speak above a hushed whisper.

“To be honest, I don’t quite know what I’m looking for,” Lin Sui’an said. “You might call it — a stroke of luck.”

Qiu Laoban nodded vigorously. “Good luck’s good, good luck’s good.”

Having learned Lin Sui’an’s true identity, he admired and revered this savior of his more with every passing day. Whatever Lin Niangzi said was right — even if she said manure smelled fragrant, he wouldn’t argue.

But as they walked on, Qiu Laoban began to sense something was off. Lin Sui’an was following their old work route straight into the side courtyard and into the kitchen, circling around the ten large water vats.

A moment’s thought and it clicked — he was moved nearly to tears: Lin Niangzi had brought him here to revisit the old grounds and reflect on past hardships!

But before the tears could fall, Lin Sui’an suddenly grabbed the rim of one of the vats with both hands and hoisted it clean off the ground — a vat as tall as a grown person.

Qiu Laoban’s jaw hit the floor. He wanted to help but had no idea how to, and could only offer verbal encouragement: “Lin Niangzi, take it easy — don’t throw out your back.”

Lin Sui’an shook the vat as she held it aloft. Finding nothing, she set it steadily to one side, then hoisted the second, the third, the fourth — moving all ten of the great water vats to the perimeter, then began circling the impressions left by the vats on the ground.

Qiu Laoban had no idea what she was doing but followed along, circling with her. After three or four loops, Lin Sui’an crouched down and swept away the loose dust on the floor, saying, “Qiu Laoban, dig here.”

Only then did Qiu Laoban understand why he had been brought along — she had wanted him for his wolf-tooth club, which was ideal for digging. He perked up with great enthusiasm and swung away with his full strength. In no time at all he had dug down three feet — and then could go no further.

Beneath them, a hard stone slab had appeared.

Lin Sui’an reached down and felt it over. As she had expected: another tea-blossom-carved relief mechanism. She pressed the petals in sequence, and the slab shifted aside with a clatter, revealing a dark tunnel below.

“Qiu Laoban, keep watch out here. I’ll go take a look.” Lin Sui’an pulled out her luminescent pearl and gave him her instructions.

Qiu Laoban stared and nodded, whether stunned by the mechanism or awestruck by the luminescent pearl, it was hard to say.

This tunnel was considerably shallower than the one beneath the late Manor Master Qiu’s tea room — only five or six feet below the surface. Unlike the meticulous craftsmanship of the earlier tunnel, this one was crude and rough, as if it had been hastily excavated in a hurry. As Lin Sui’an walked along it, she caught a foul odor — something like the fermented reek of animal dung and decomposing plant matter piled together, utterly nauseating.

Fortunately Lin Sui’an had come prepared. She pulled out the scented cloth mask Mu Xia had specially made and hung it over her face, and her breathing eased a little.

Soon the tunnel reached its end: another stone slab. Lin Sui’an felt all around it from top to bottom, but could find no mechanism of any kind. She was puzzling over this when sounds came from beyond the slab — thud, thud, thud — like something living striking from the other side.

She pressed herself against the slab and listened. The knocking had no discernible rhythm, and she couldn’t tell whether what lay beyond was human or animal. She thought for a moment, then knocked twice herself.

The movement on the other side stopped abruptly — and then the knocking resumed, faster now, as if urgently trying to convey something.

Lin Sui’an understood. There was a person on the other side. She raised her voice and called out, “Stand back!”

The knocking stopped. She waited a moment longer, confirmed it did not resume, then drew Qian Jing, turned it in her hand, and slashed outward. A blade of jade-green light scored a bolt of lightning across the stone wall. The slab cracked. Lin Sui’an called out again — “Stand back!” — and drove her palm into it. The wall collapsed with a thunderous crash, blasting out great billowing clouds of dust and a wave of stench that swamped even the fragrance of her mask. She nearly retched, covering her mouth and nose as she retreated several swift steps.

The dust gradually settled. Beyond the fallen wall was a stone chamber — or rather, less a chamber than a stone cell. Faint threads of light fell through narrow gaps high in the stone walls. The ground was slicked with something sticky and viscous that emanated an indescribable odor. Lin Sui’an took one look and quickly averted her eyes, not daring to dwell on it.

A human figure sat on the only small patch of relatively dry ground, hunched over, so feeble that even their breathing was barely audible.

Lin Sui’an stepped forward with her luminescent pearl. As though sensing its light, the person slowly lifted their head. Lin Sui’an gave a start and drew back half a step.

In the pale glow of the luminescent pearl, a face emerged: white hair wild and tangled, features obscured by grime, deeply lined with wrinkles, streaked with the traces of old tears — and bearing a resemblance of perhaps seven out of ten to the late Manor Master Qiu.

“Could you be,” Lin Sui’an cried out in shock, “the Cheng County Magistrate — Qiu Liang?!”

The figure’s body began to tremble violently, and gave a single nod.

The weekend is taken up by accompanying my little one to classes, so I won’t be able to update. If all goes well, next week this story arc should be wrapped up — scattering flowers in celebration!