As one of Yidu’s ten newly prominent great families, the Wu Family of the south city had their core business in the fabric trade. The Wu Family fabric shops were concentrated across twelve wards of the inner city, with the West Market at the forefront — primarily selling cloth, silk, satin, brocade, and embroidery. The most celebrated of their goods was the embroidery, and their screen embroideries above all — custom-made to order according to clients’ requirements. The craft of the Wu Family embroiderers was second to none in all of the Tang realm: fine stitchwork, lifelike execution, greatly cherished by the noble families.

But ever since the Hua Family embroidery atelier established itself in Yidu a few years prior, the Wu Family’s former glory in the trade had never recovered. Honestly speaking, the Hua Family’s embroidery craft was comparable to the Wu Family’s — nothing extraordinary there. But the Hua Family’s embroidery patterns took an entirely original approach, with designs that were refreshingly novel (said to have mostly sprung from the talented hand of Hua Family’s Fourth Young Master). In addition to styles common throughout the Tang realm, they incorporated distinctive aesthetics from Persia, the Arab lands, Japan, Silla, India, Goryeo, and other nations — and more impressively, the Hua Family embroidery could draw from the strengths of all these schools, integrating them masterfully into a seamlessly coherent vision. In terms of aesthetic, it was a crushing superiority. Within two years, it had devoured the Wu Family’s share of the embroidery market whole.

Add to that the fact that the Wu Family had produced a disaster of a spendthrift gambler in Wu Zhengli — driving the household into disarray, souring Old Master Wu to his death — and no one could understand why the Wu Family, of all people, had then chosen to install this unworthy son as family patriarch. Everyone in Yidu said the Wu Family’s luck had run out, that they wouldn’t last three months.

Yet the strange thing was that after Wu Zhengli became patriarch, the Wu Family fabric trade’s business began, day by day, to improve. Common folk didn’t frequent the shops much, but the nobility visited regularly and often.

Stranger still, the Wu Family’s embroidery work hadn’t improved in any significant way, and the prices had even gone up — yet somehow it had become the darling of young noble-family sons, a situation that truly defied comprehension.

Everyone said those noble scions must have water in their brains to be such willing fools.

As for the secret behind all of this — besides Wu Zhengli himself, it was the shop managers of the various fabric stores who understood it best.

Head Manager Yu of the fabric shop at No. 39 Hongguan Road, West Market, had served the Wu Family for eight years and was considered a trusted veteran. He had personally witnessed the trajectory of the fabric trade from its height of prosperity to its decline, and then its inexplicable recovery. The secret behind that turnaround was not anything the Wu Family had produced themselves — it was a strange kind of embroidery Wu Zhengli had ordered from Qingzhou.

A year and a half ago, when Head Manager Yu first laid eyes on the first batch of Qingzhou embroidery, he thought Wu Zhengli had been swindled. The pieces were crudely made, the workmanship rubbish, entirely unfit to be displayed. But Wu Zhengli was insistent on selling them, and had established strict regulations: the Qingzhou embroidery must be kept under close guard, sold only from the back room, and only customers holding a special flower token were eligible to purchase — no one else was so much as allowed a glance. Even more baffling, a single embroidered handkerchief was priced at five hundred coins.

Head Manager Yu thought Wu Zhengli had lost his mind. But as a hired manager, what could he do against the family patriarch’s orders? He had no choice but to grit his teeth and comply, privately expecting the goods to sit unsold for ten days or half a month before Wu Zhengli would admit defeat.

To his astonishment, the very next day, more than twenty Qingzhou embroidered handkerchiefs sold — and every single buyer was a noble-family scion of Yidu.

Head Manager Yu was thoroughly shaken. After closing that evening, he examined the Qingzhou embroidery again carefully and found nothing unusual — except for one thing: these embroidered goods carried a faint, peculiar odor, as though they had been soaked in something. Head Manager Yu assumed the goods had gotten wet in rain during transit, and thought nothing of it.

After that, the noble-family scions coming to buy Qingzhou embroidery grew more numerous, and their visits more frequent. Some went from once a month at first, to once every ten days, then once every three to five days. Head Manager Yu noticed that the most frequent visitors were growing visibly thinner, their complexions increasingly poor, some even becoming more hot-tempered in manner — they would buy the embroidery and leave immediately, their expressions urgent, as if being chased by something.

Once, Head Manager Yu even witnessed a customer purchase embroidery and, barely out the door, press it to his nose and mouth and inhale deeply, his expression one of extraordinary ecstasy — it sent chills down the spine.

Head Manager Yu was now certain: something was very wrong with this Qingzhou embroidery. He quickly compared notes with the other fabric shop managers, found them equally uneasy, and the group of managers, after conferring together, brought the matter to Wu Zhengli.

Wu Zhengli’s response was a single sentence: tend to your business, ask no questions and mind nothing else — otherwise, watch your worthless necks.

The managers were filled with dread: so Wu Zhengli had known all along.

Since it was the family patriarch’s order, they were mere managers — they had no choice but to follow it. Besides, they were only selling a few pieces of embroidery. It wasn’t exactly causing any great harm. Surely it would be fine.

But Head Manager Yu was more cautious than most. From that point on, he opened a separate ledger, recording all incoming and outgoing stock and sales records for the Qingzhou embroidery — paying particular attention to the identities of the procurement contacts and the buyers. If a buyer’s identity could be identified, all the better; if not, he recorded their physical description.

His assistant found Head Manager Yu’s practice hard to understand — honestly, Head Manager Yu couldn’t quite explain it to himself either. But something inside told him: this special ledger might one day save his life.

Head Manager Yu had not expected that day to arrive so swiftly.

That day, the moment daylight broke and the West Market had just opened, word came from the garrison city: Wu Zhengli had gone to the Yidu government offices to strike the grievance drum, claiming Madam Wu had been abducted by a criminal, and requesting that Yidu Governor Chi Ji convene court to hear the case.

Head Manager Yu heard this, and both his eyelids began twitching violently. He immediately sent his assistant to notify Fong, the chief of Duck Row Gate.

Duck Row Gate was a jianghu faction funded by the Wu Family — all low-life hired muscle, but with large numbers, obedient, doing the dirty work the Wu Family couldn’t be seen doing openly. Head Manager Yu had managed them with generous payments over the years and was on reasonably familiar terms with Chief Fong.

The assistant was gone for a full hour with no sign of returning. Head Manager Yu was sick with worry, certain the Qingzhou embroidery had caused the trouble. He ordered the shop workers to immediately gather all the Qingzhou embroidery from the back room and send it to the rear gate, waiting for the Duck Row Gate men to arrive and quickly move it to a hidden warehouse for safekeeping. The ledgers, naturally, he kept close on his person.

Duck Row Gate chief Feng Qiao finally arrived — fashionably late. A short, stocky man reeking of alcohol, most likely having spent the entire previous night drinking, he had a good laugh at Head Manager Yu’s panicked state, calling it needless worry. The ten Duck Row Gate disciples who had come with him not only refused to help, but ran to the noodle stall at the rear gate and helped themselves enthusiastically to breakfast. Head Manager Yu was frantic; Chief Feng ignored him and went over to mooch a bowl of noodles himself. He ate half a bowl, then suddenly felt something wasn’t right.

The rear gate of the fabric shop faced a narrow side alley — normally barely anyone walked through. So why had a noodle stall appeared out of thin air today? And looking at the noodle seller more carefully, those quick-darting eyes looked very much like those of a Pure Gate disciple. Chief Feng slammed down his bowl and lunged to grab the noodle seller, but the noodle seller had been prepared: he lifted the bowl of noodle broth and sloshed it over them all. The Duck Row Gate men, scalded with heads full of blisters, shrieked and yelled. By the time they recovered to give chase, the noodle-selling young man had long since fled.

Just at that moment, the assistant Head Manager Yu had sent to the government offices to gather information returned, reporting that Governor Chi had ordered Wu Zhengli imprisoned, and that the newly appointed Flower Adjutant Hua Yitang had led a contingent of constables out through the South Gate of the garrison city, making straight for the West Market — to seal off all shops under the Wu Family name.

Head Manager Yu was terrified. Feng Qiao finally panicked as well, hollering at the Duck Row Gate disciples to hurry and load the Qingzhou embroidery onto carts. The disciples, nursing their blistered heads and wincing with every motion, scrambled to load and harness the horses. The cart was ready — but they couldn’t move.

The side alley had been blocked by a group of people. Leading them was the young man who had just been selling noodles, and behind him came sellers of flatbread, sesame buns, and a peddler with a carrying pole. At the head of the group was a young man with a swarthy complexion, long arms, long legs — built like a tall bamboo pole — with a two-foot silver straight blade at his side, and behind him was Pure Gate’s Fourth Elder Baishan. These people came forward without a word of warning and began seizing the cart. Duck Row Gate prided itself on being one of Yidu’s powers — it certainly wouldn’t submit tamely. At Feng Qiao’s command, the Duck Row Gate disciples charged forward as well, and two factions launched into a brawl in the narrow alley.

Feng Qiao had trained in footwork since childhood — his leg techniques were sharp, and his signature skill, the Linked Chain Kick, had made a name for him in the jianghu. He leapt and sprang through the alley like an agile grasshopper — swift and fierce. The ten Duck Row Gate disciples had all started as laborers, trained for years under Feng Qiao’s guidance. Their lower stance was solid, their speed fast, and they excelled at brawling in tight spaces. The Pure Gate, by contrast, had sent only six — all knife fighters — and especially Baishan’s twin blades, which swept wide and wide, leaving him hemmed in and restricted at every turn in the narrow alley.

Feng Qiao was confident of victory. Pleased with himself, he unleashed a Linked Chain Kick at the tall bamboo pole young man — but the young man suddenly changed his move mid-motion. He tossed his straight blade aside, drew a dagger from his boot, dropped flat on his back, and slid across the ground in a move that could only be called “scoundrel’s rolling dog style.” The cutting edge of the dagger swept past Feng Qiao’s calves. Feng Qiao felt a chill in his legs and all the strength in his lower body instantly drained away. He collapsed face-first onto the ground. Looking back, he saw half his trouser legs gone and both hamstring tendons severed, blood seeping steadily.

The Duck Row Gate disciples lost their nerve completely and fell to their knees begging for mercy.

Feng Qiao howled in pain. “Who are you?! How dare you pick a fight with our Duck Row Gate?! Duck Row Gate has connections in the government offices!”

The tall bamboo pole young man sheathed his dagger and flashed a grin, showing a full set of neat white teeth. “What a coincidence — so do we!”

Before the words had finished, the front hall erupted.

The bamboo pole young man hoisted Feng Qiao by the collar and walked him to the front hall. Head Manager Yu stood behind the counter, trembling head to toe. Outside the door, a dense ring of constables surrounded the shop. A green-robed official strolled about inside the shop with his hands clasped behind his back — young in years, beautiful as a flower. When he caught sight of the bamboo pole young man, he narrowed his eyes and smiled. “Little Jin Ruo, well done.”

Jin Ruo gave a snort, dumped Feng Qiao on the floor. “This is Duck Row Gate’s chief Feng Qiao. There’s a pile of boxes in the rear courtyard — probably what you’re looking for.”

Feng Qiao’s heart went cold. This green-robed official must be the newly appointed Yidu Judicial Adjutant Hua Yitang — the Hua Family’s Fourth Young Master of Yangdu — formidable background, sharp and cunning. And the bamboo pole was obviously Pure Gate’s young sect master Jin Ruo.

Hua Yitang he could live with, but Pure Gate was a real headache. Just two days ago they had wiped out the Ascending Immortal Sect — were they now coming after Duck Row Gate’s territory?

Hua Yitang signaled with a glance. Several constables rushed to the rear courtyard and brought back a chest. Opened — inside were exactly the embroideries shipped from Qingzhou. By the smell, all had been soaked in the talismanic water from the Longshen Shrine.

Hua Yitang turned a cold gaze on Head Manager Yu. Head Manager Yu dropped to his knees with a thud and confessed in one breath: “Reporting to Flower Adjutant, these embroideries were all ordered by the family patriarch for us to sell. Beyond that, we know nothing!”

Hua Yitang narrowed his eyes. “You truly know nothing at all?”

Head Manager Yu quivered, and immediately produced the ledger he had been keeping from inside his robes and presented it forward. Hua Yitang scanned through it at a glance, and smiled. “Head Manager Yu is a clever man. This ledger I will be keeping. If needed, I may have to ask Head Manager Yu to come to the government offices for further inquiries. For the time being, Head Manager Yu should not leave the city limits of Yidu.”

Head Manager Yu: “Yes, yes, yes! This one will comply with Flower Adjutant’s every order!”

Hua Yitang was quite satisfied. He ordered the constables to lift all the large wooden chests of embroidery, then dragged Feng Qiao out of the Wu Family fabric shop. Feng Qiao sensed things were going badly — if he was taken to the government cells now, breaking free would be near impossible. His tongue worked up and down, and an iron whistle he had been hiding in his mouth appeared between his teeth — he bit down and blew.

The sharp, ear-splitting whistle cleaved through the sky like a blade. This was the Duck Row Gate chief’s command signal — once sounded, any Duck Row Gate disciple within five li, provided they were still alive, was required to come to his aid.

Jin Ruo was startled. He clamped his hand on Feng Qiao’s jaw and pried the iron whistle out by force — but it was already too late.

The sound of chaotic footsteps came rushing nearer from the distant rooftops and walls. More than twenty Duck Row Gate disciples clambered over walls and flipped off eaves, charging down toward Hua Yitang and the constables. Feng Qiao was overjoyed, and threw back his head and shouted, “Save me — gak!”

The second half of his shout was cut off by a dark gust of wind — no, not a dark wind, but a black blade-sheath and black robes — sweeping past Feng Qiao’s eyes like lightning. The Duck Row Gate disciples who had just landed barely had time to find their footing before they were swept up by that lightning-fast blade-sheath, tossed like dumplings sizzling and flipping in a wok of hot oil, smacking to the ground one after another with a series of crashes.

Three breaths of time — and more than twenty men were down without exception. The wind swirled once around Hua Yitang, then stopped — sending Hua Yitang’s great official robes billowing outward like a flower in full bloom.

Feng Qiao recognized the wielder of the black blade-sheath: a young woman, straight-backed and upright, with glittering eyes and a blade’s worth of killing intent — the mistress of Qian Jing, Lin Sui’an!

It was fortunate that Feng Qiao’s hamstring tendons were already severed — otherwise he would have been on his knees again right now.

“Hua Yitang, your particular constitution really does attract too much resentment. How is it that people want to kill you wherever you go?” Lin Sui’an said with a sigh.

Hua Yitang slanted an eye toward Feng Qiao. “How dare you attempt to harm an official of the court! What audacity!”

Feng Qiao almost burst into tears. “It was an injustice — I only wanted to… run away…”

To escape. That was all.

Hua Yitang let out a long “hmm” through his nose.

“Flower Adjutant, spare my life! Every filthy thing Wu Zhengli has ever done — I know it all. I’ll confess everything!”

Wu Zhengli was woken by the sound of water dripping.

“Drip, drip, drip” — one cold drop after another landing on the side of his forehead, stinging and icy.

Wu Zhengli opened his eyes. What greeted him was a stretch of moldy rotten grass matting. Then a pair of black, clean boots. Wu Zhengli’s gaze traveled slowly upward, and found a face — his heart leapt with great joy. Trembling, he raised one hand. “Save… save me…”

The person in black boots let out a sigh. “…Of course I will save you… At this point, I alone can save you.”

“It was all that troublemaking of Qu Hui’s, and then that wretched Lian Xiaoshuang!” Wu Zhengli said through gritted teeth. “I told you long ago — that woman Lian Xiaoshuang is a plague. You should have dealt with her and been done with it. You were too soft. And look at the trouble it’s stirred up now.”

The person in black boots was silent a moment. “Wasn’t it you who killed Lian Xiaoshuang?”

Wu Zhengli was shocked. “Wasn’t it you who killed her?”

The cell fell into complete silence.

After a long pause, the person in black boots let out a quiet sigh. “So it wasn’t you, then.”

Wu Zhengli gave a cold laugh. “I haven’t gone mad — I wouldn’t soil my hands with that wretched woman.”

The person in black boots was still for another moment. “Was Qu Hui truly taken away by Yun Zhong Yue?”

Wu Zhengli: “I suspect there is no such person as Yun Zhong Yue at all! Chances are eight in ten that Lin Sui’an is behind it!”

“If it truly was Lin Sui’an, then things have become troublesome.”

“How so?”

“Do you know why Hua Yitang was able to advance four ranks in rapid succession — rising from a mere low-grade county adjutant all the way to Yidu City Judicial Adjutant?”

“I recall you mentioned he was previously the county adjutant of some county in Qingzhou — could it be —!”

“Correct. Hua Yitang is the very county adjutant of Cheng County who broke the Longshen case. He came here with Qingzhou embroidery as his target all along.”

Wu Zhengli nearly choked. “So — so that means —”

“Hua Fourth Young Master has already led men to seal off all fabric shops under the Wu Family name.”

“The Qingzhou embroidery matter has been exposed. And if that other matter is also — even I would be unable to protect you. Moreover, I have heard that Hua Fourth Young Master’s methods of interrogation are extremely ruthless. In Qingzhou, he questioned three people — all three lost their minds —”

“Then — then what should we do now?! I cannot endure pain — if they apply torture, I know I won’t be able to hold out. If I accidentally let slip that one thing — wouldn’t that mean — wouldn’t that mean —”

The person in black boots handed Wu Zhengli a yellow porcelain bottle. “Drink this.”

Wu Zhengli’s eyes convulsed violently. “What is this?!”

“A death-feigning drug. Once consumed, for twelve hours, all breathing and pulse cease entirely — as though you were dead. To escape this situation, feigning death is your only way out.”

Wu Zhengli’s face drained white. He stared fixedly at the person in black boots. “Don’t forget — if I die, your gambling debt promissory notes and the contract by which you sold Lian Xiaoshuang to me will all be made public!”

The person in black boots: “I save your life; the debt you owe me is cancelled.”

At that, Wu Zhengli’s heart settled considerably. This person was supremely greedy and self-serving — if they asked for nothing, there would certainly be a trap. But if it was to cancel a debt, that was rather credible. After all, that three-thousand-guan promissory note was a blade at this person’s throat.

“Agreed!” Wu Zhengli pulled out the stopper, downed the bottle in one swallow, and slowly closed his eyes.

The person in black boots took the porcelain bottle from Wu Zhengli’s hand, tucked it back into their sleeve, and tapped Wu Zhengli’s neck with a foot. Wu Zhengli rolled softly to one side — breathing long and even, utterly unresponsive.

The person in black boots gave a soft laugh, turned, and walked out of the cell. The black boots took one step after another into the darkness.

Moments later, footsteps sounded in the cell again. The prison warden led the way with a lantern as Ling Zhiyan and Adjutant Xia came striding in quickly.

Warden: “I saw Wu Zhengli’s eyes moving — he should be waking soon. I rushed to bring the two officials over — eh?”

The warden spotted Wu Zhengli lying flat on his back in the cell. He quickly produced his key, unlocked the cell door, went in and shook him a few times, called to him several times, and pressed his ear to Wu Zhengli’s chest to listen. He scratched his head. “That’s strange.”

Adjutant Xia: “What’s wrong?”

The warden stood and clasped his hands in salute. “Reporting to Adjutant Xia — Wu Zhengli’s breathing is normal, heartbeat is normal, he appears to simply be asleep, but he simply cannot be woken.”

Ling Zhiyan frowned, walked into the cell and crouched down, pressing two fingers to Wu Zhengli’s neck to take his pulse. He had the warden fetch a bowl of water and pour it over Wu Zhengli’s face. Wu Zhengli’s eyes stayed firmly shut, completely unresponsive. Ling Zhiyan pried open Wu Zhengli’s jaw, fanned the air near it and sniffed, and his expression changed. “There is a strange smell in his mouth. He has been drugged!”

Adjutant Xia: “What?!”

The warden was greatly alarmed. “How — how is that possible? He was perfectly fine just moments ago!”

“Who came here recently?” Ling Zhiyan asked.

The warden broke into a cold sweat. “Governor Chi’s orders were strict — the Wu Zhengli case is of great importance and requires the closest watch. Without Governor Chi’s personal order, no one is permitted to visit. What’s more, I only left to receive the two officials — I was gone less than a quarter of an hour. This cell has only one corridor and one entrance. We didn’t see anyone when we arrived!”

“Never mind that now — can the man be saved?” Adjutant Xia called out.

Ling Zhiyan lifted Wu Zhengli’s eyelids and examined them, frowning. “Fetch a physician at once — no, fetch the coroner Fang at once!”

The warden grabbed the lantern and sprinted out.

Ling Zhiyan took a torch from outside the cell and swept it around the inside and outside of the cell in a complete circuit, then gripped the special bronze lock on the cell door and examined it for some time, brow deeply furrowed.

In the blazing torchlight, the Dali Court Judicial Investigator’s eyes were keen and fierce — like the wrathful divine guardians in a temple. Adjutant Xia didn’t dare even breathe audibly, and stood well back to one side.

Before long, the warden returned with Fangke.

Fangke took the pulse quickly, then drove silver needles into several major acupoints on Wu Zhengli. Wu Zhengli remained entirely unresponsive. Fangke clicked his tongue. “It’s a death-feigning drug.”

Ling Zhiyan: “What is a death-feigning drug?”

Fangke’s hands moved rapidly through his large wooden chest. “The death-feigning drug is also called ‘cicada sheds its skin.’ Once ingested, it renders the person’s breathing and pulse completely nonexistent — appearing to all intents like death. The drug’s effect can last ten to twelve hours, after which breathing and heartbeat resume, and the person ‘revives.'”

Ling Zhiyan: “But Wu Zhengli’s breathing and heartbeat are both normal — he is only unconscious.”

“Because what he ingested was only half the effective dosage. At half-dosage, heartbeat and breathing remain normal, consciousness is lost — like falling asleep. However —” Fangke produced a leather tube about two fingers in diameter and three feet long, along with something resembling a horse’s bit. “— from this point on, he will not wake, and cannot eat or drink. He will ultimately starve and die of thirst.”

Ling Zhiyan and Adjutant Xia went pale with alarm.

“Fortunately, it has not been long since he took the drug — he can still be saved.” Fangke signaled the warden. “Call two prison guards to help.”

One prison guard pressed down Wu Zhengli’s legs. Another pressed down his arms. Fangke dislocated Wu Zhengli’s jaw, used the “horse bit” to fix Wu Zhengli’s mouth open, had the warden help secure the bit and Wu Zhengli’s neck in place, grabbed the leather tube and — with a wet sound — inserted it into Wu Zhengli’s throat and began working it steadily downward. Wu Zhengli’s hands and feet began to tremble. The two prison guards’ complexions were not looking good; the warden’s face had gone white, his mind turning over what manner of terrible torture this could possibly be — and how absolutely horrifying.

When the tube had descended more than a foot, Fangke drew a long porcelain bottle from his wooden chest, and poured the liquid inside into the tube in a steady stream. Wu Zhengli’s entire body jolted upward, convulsing wildly — four people could not hold him down. Ling Zhiyan quickly stepped forward to help press down Wu Zhengli’s shoulders. At that moment, Fangke’s eyes flashed and he let out a sharp shout of “Let go, step back!” and abruptly yanked out the tube. Wu Zhengli lurched forward and let out a sound, and vomited an explosion of colorful contents across the floor.

The prison guards and warden let out simultaneous cries and vomited themselves. Adjutant Xia pressed his sleeve over his mouth, face deathly pale. Ling Zhiyan pinched his nose and struggled to keep his stomach. Only Fangke’s expression was entirely unchanged. He dragged Wu Zhengli aside, examined him thoroughly, and nodded. “Roughly eighty percent came out. Very good.”

Adjutant Xia: “This method of neutralizing poison is something I have never heard of before in my life. May I ask, Coroner Fang — what is the theory behind it?”

“No particular theory. I once observed a farmer use a similar method to wash the stomach of a poisoned animal,” Fangke said, rolling up his sleeves. He raised his hand and delivered a hard open-palm slap across Wu Zhengli’s face — smack — making Adjutant Xia flinch violently. “Been waiting for a chance to try it on a human for a long time — strange, still not waking up?”

Fangke proceeded to slap Wu Zhengli’s face four or five more hard times. Wu Zhengli’s face swelled up. Fangke was quite tired from the effort. Wu Zhengli made two grunting sounds, then slumped sideways onto the ground.

Adjutant Xia: “Coroner Fang… he won’t…”

Be killed by you, will he?

Fangke produced another porcelain bottle and poured its contents into Wu Zhengli’s mouth. “Although this man’s conduct is no better than livestock, his body is still, after all, that of a human being. He’ll likely be unconscious for three to five days.”

Adjutant Xia: “…”

He could have sworn he just heard this coroner reprimanding someone in a perfectly earnest tone.

Ling Zhiyan frowned. “Three to five days…”

“Not dying is the best outcome. Six hours from now, give him water, or he won’t survive those three to five days either.” Fangke rose, shouldered the large wooden chest, walked over to Ling Zhiyan’s side, paused in his step, and lowered his voice. “Wu Zhengli’s oral cavity showed no injuries at all — meaning this death-feigning drug was something he swallowed himself.”

Ling Zhiyan: “Wu Zhengli had no container of the death-feigning drug on his person, meaning someone took it away. Whoever took the container is the person who brought him the drug.”

Fangke: “Either he knew what he was drinking and chose to end his own life, or he was deceived.”

Ling Zhiyan’s eyes shifted. “Whichever the case, the one who brought the drug must be someone Wu Zhengli trusted deeply.”

Side story:

After Flower Adjutant’s large retinue swept out of the Wu Family fabric shop, Head Manager Yu, still trembling from his ordeal, sat down heavily on the ground, drenched in sweat.

His instincts had been right — the ledger had indeed saved his life.

Footsteps sounded at the door. A group of people entered against the light. At their head, remarkably, was Hua Ermu — patriarch of the Yidu Hua Family.

Head Manager Yu stared blankly as Hua Ermu strolled leisurely around the fabric shop, found an empty seat, settled gracefully into it, signaled a servant to bring tea, took a slow, appreciative sip, and said:

“Head Manager Yu, I believe? I see you have this shop well run. How would you feel about considering a partnership with the Hua Family?”

Head Manager Yu was stunned for a full half-cup of tea. Then he shot to his feet, hurried forward with a fawning air, pasted on a smile, and said: “Please, tell me more.”

Author’s note: Ran out of time yesterday — added the side story today.