Lin Sui’an stood holding Qian Jing in her arms outside the Tiānzì-class room of Shuangyuan Guesthouse’s Shuangye Hall, watching Hua Yitang slowly pace back and forth inside the room, fanning himself. The case had only just been cracked the night before, and the innkeeper hadn’t had time to tidy up yet, so the scene remained exactly as they had left it. In particular, the wooden bed — too heavy to move without three people — still sat in solitary isolation at the center of the room.

Fang Ke had said he needed to catch up on sleep and refused to go out no matter what. Jin Ruo had come along, but after a brief stroll around twice, said he wanted to go out for some air, and in the blink of an eye, had vanished.

In the end, only Lin Sui’an and Hua Yitang remained.

In truth, Lin Sui’an had sensed it — the two of them had deliberately left space for her and Hua Yitang to be alone. Not for any romantic reason, of course, but because ever since the waterside pavilion, a strange, inexplicable killing intent had been seeping out of her — those two fellows had apparently decided she was too much trouble to deal with, and had used Hua Yitang as a shield instead.

It had to be said, their instincts were quite sharp.

Lin Sui’an had noticed long ago that being around Hua Yitang made it easier to suppress her killing intent. Or, put another way, this body of hers seemed to have an innate affinity for Hua Yitang — Lin Sui’an awkwardly scratched her forehead, instinctively feeling that this was not something to examine too closely. But this killing intent was different from the bloodthirsty urge she had felt in previous battles. Rather than fading with time, it had only grown stronger. It was a feeling that was difficult to describe, as though something sleeping at the bottom of her heart had been awakened and refused to close its eyes again.

Qian Jing was affected by it too, emitting a low, vibrating hum from within her arms, sending a throbbing ache through her chest.

What a long-forgotten feeling this was, Lin Sui’an thought. The very moment she had transmigrated into this body, it had felt exactly like this — like a knife twisting in her heart. She had a feeling that this must be a memory from deep within the body itself. Could it be that this killing intent was connected to the original owner’s cause of death?

It seemed she still had far too little understanding of this body.

But even stranger was Hua Yitang.

The entire walk from the estate, he hadn’t said a single word — completely unlike his usual chatterbox self. Now he was crouching at the head of the bed, staring silently at those two strokes of the dying message for a long while, before suddenly blurting out, “Actually, I once saw the current Holy Sovereign in person, when I was a child.”

Lin Sui’an said, “What?”

“At the time, she had only just taken the throne and was no older than nineteen. She was wearing the simplest silk skirt, with only a single white jade hairpin in her hair, and she smiled as she gave me a little sugar figurine.” Hua Yitang’s voice was very soft, very gentle, as though it carried his memories across a vast stretch of time and laid them before Lin Sui’an’s eyes. “From that day onward, the Hua Family, which had been on the verge of decline, became the Hua Family that stood apart from all others and built its legacy through commerce.”

Lin Sui’an’s mind rang like a thunderclap. Every last shred of that wretched killing intent was blasted away by this bombshell.

All those questions that had seemed both plausible and implausible suddenly had their answers.

The unfathomably wealthy Hua Family. The unconventional Hua Family. The rapidly rising Hua Family. The Hua Family whose name was known across foreign lands. The Hua Family that was flamboyant and arrogant and universally despised — why was it specifically the Hua Family? Why only the Hua Family? Because the Hua Family was not merely the Hua Family. It was the Holy Sovereign’s Hua Family, or rather, the Hua Family that belonged to the Tang Nation.

Good heavens! Was this something she was even supposed to hear?!

Lin Sui’an immediately held her breath and listened carefully. Good — there was no sound of anyone nearby. This place was safe. Having confirmed that, she let out a breath, strode over to Hua Yitang, grabbed him by the collar, and tilted her head back to stare up at his face. She lowered her voice. “Hua Yitang, do you know what you just said?!”

Hua Yitang’s bright eyes looked back at her without moving, and he smiled faintly. “Apart from my eldest brother, second sister, third sister, and myself, you are the only one who knows of this connection.”

Lin Sui’an said, “And you’re still talking about it!”

Hua Yitang’s smile gradually faded. “Even though I say fine-sounding things, in the end I am only placing the Hua Family’s prosperity first.”

Lin Sui’an’s eyes went wide. Hua Yitang lowered his lashes. The corners of his eyes were touched with a reddish mist, and his lips were pressed so tightly together they had turned pale. “Tell me — am I not the same kind of person as the ones from last night?”

Lin Sui’an’s heart lurched into a furious gallop. In that instant, she seemed — possibly — perhaps — to catch a glimpse deep in Hua Yitang’s eyes of an emotion that absolutely should never have been there —

Good heavens!

She had definitely not slept well last night. Her eyes must be crusted shut with sleep, Lin Sui’an hurriedly blinked, and sure enough, when she opened her eyes again, that flicker of emotion had vanished entirely, leaving only eyes that had grown even more deep and unfathomable than before.

Classic moody teenage boy. His emotions were far too volatile.

“Hua Yitang, who do you think you are? Confucius? Are you planning to save all of humanity?!” Lin Sui’an rapped her knuckles against Hua Yitang’s shoulder. “You’re a good-for-nothing playboy. Just be yourself. If you can manage not to bring disaster to others, heaven will be grateful.”

Hua Yitang’s lashes trembled faintly. Two points of light gradually kindled in his pupils, reflecting the image of Lin Sui’an’s disdainful face. He murmured, “Are you saying — just do good deeds, and do not seek to reform others?”

Lin Sui’an: “……”

His capacity for interpreting things was truly extraordinary.

Hua Yitang broke into a sudden grin, his white teeth flashing bright. He mimicked Lin Sui’an’s gesture and tapped her shoulder with his fan. “Same goes for you.”

With that, he crouched back down and resumed examining the two strokes of the dying message.

Lin Sui’an stood there blankly for a moment before it dawned on her: could it be that he had deliberately put on that pitiful look, not just to receive comfort from her, but to guide her into comforting herself at the same time?

Incredible! This realization struck Lin Sui’an like lightning, charring her inside and out.

“Perhaps we’ve both been wrong,” said Hua Yitang, tracing the two strokes in the air with his finger. “What Shan Yuanming wrote last was not the name of the killer, but a location.”

Lin Sui’an gathered her robes and crouched beside him. “A place name?”

Hua Yitang shook his head. “Look carefully. The direction of the brushstrokes goes from right to left — the exact opposite of normal writing.”

Lin Sui’an looked closely and indeed, after a night had passed, the shade and gradation of the bloodstains were now clearly visible: the right side was darker than the left.

Lin Sui’an said, “He wasn’t writing characters. He was drawing.”

Hua Yitang extended his finger to follow the angle of the two strokes and slowly traced them outward until the two lines converged at a single point, forming an acute-angled symbol — like an arrow indicating a direction.

Lin Sui’an and Hua Yitang exchanged a glance. Hua Yitang immediately stepped back several paces. Lin Sui’an gripped the head of the bed with both hands and, with a single heave, lifted the entire bed and walked it toward the west wall. Hua Yitang stepped forward and stared at the indentations left by the bed legs. “One cun to the left. Half a cun forward. Too far — back one cun. Set it down!”

The heavy bed landed squarely in its original position, all four legs fitting perfectly back into their marks on the floor. Looking at the arrow now, it angled slightly upward, pointing at the clothes rack beside the west window.

Two everyday garments hung on the rack. Hua Yitang grabbed them and shook them both out. Nothing fell.

Could it be that the arrow wasn’t pointing at the clothes rack at all, but at the window?

Lin Sui’an circled around to the west window, pushed the shutters open, and swept her eyes over every inch of the frame — clean, with no unusual markings. She jumped out through the window and inspected the base of the wall inside and outside the building, still finding nothing. She climbed back into the room to find Hua Yitang burrowing around inside the wardrobe like a guinea pig, tossing Shan Yuanming’s meager collection of clothing all over the floor.

Lin Sui’an asked, “Find anything?”

Hua Yitang backed out of the wardrobe. “Most of Shan Yuanming’s garments were newly purchased — all top-quality, ready-made pieces from the Hua Family’s clothing shop, and the two on the rack are in the latest style.” He shook a garment he had just dug out. “Only this one is old. The cut and stitching aren’t particularly refined — he must have sewn it himself.”

Lin Sui’an rubbed her chin. “He kept this old garment — is there some significance to it?”

Hua Yitang didn’t answer. His fingers moved slowly along the collar, the cuffs, and the hem. Then suddenly he lifted the left cuff, pinched the fabric between his thumb and forefinger, bit the thread at the cuff’s edge with his upper teeth, and with one pull and one tear, extracted a folded square of paper from inside the turned-back fabric. He carefully unfolded it — it was a pawn receipt.

Good heavens, this Shan Yuanming truly had a talent for hiding things.

Lin Sui’an rushed over to look. It was a pawn ticket for an establishment called “Westwind Pawnshop,” located at “Number 37, Yong’an Street, North Qu, West Market.” The date of the pawned article read “Third day of the tenth month, eighth year of Xuanfeng.” The column for the name of the pawned item was blank.

Both of them were overjoyed. The item Shan Yuanming had left at the pawnshop was very likely the scroll indicated by the golden finger. They immediately headed out. Mu Xia was waiting with a carriage that had been ready for some time, and carried the two of them out of Yongtai Ward, heading straight for the West Market.

The West Market was located in the southwest corner of the Eastern Capital, bordered to the south by the Houzai Gate. Of the Eastern Capital’s three markets, it had the most convenient transportation access, and was primarily a place for large-volume wholesale trade — the equivalent of a large-scale wholesale market in the modern era. Foreign merchants and Persian traders made up the majority of its vendors. As the year was drawing to a close, the number of merchant caravans passing through had reached their annual year-end peak, and traffic was backed up from outside Chunhua Ward. Hua Yitang and Lin Sui’an had no choice but to abandon the carriage and continue on foot.

The wide road, capable of fitting eight carriages side by side, was jammed solid with camels, horses, cargo, and caravans. In conditions like these, it didn’t matter whether you were of unfathomable wealth or supreme martial prowess — everyone dutifully queued up and shuffled forward at a crawl.

The sun was high overhead. Camel hair drifted through the air like swirling yellow dandelion fluff, tickling the nose, and every step had to be taken with extreme care to avoid the wet, squelching puddles of camel dung. Foreign merchants in felt hats led their camels and chattered away in Tang dialect with heavy rolled-r accents, their conversation interspersed with foreign languages she couldn’t understand. It was the first time since coming to this world that Lin Sui’an felt her height was something of a tragedy. Wherever she looked, there was nothing but an unbroken sea of humped camel backs and tall foreign traders — the road ahead was completely invisible. The rich scent of spices, the grassy smell of herbivores, and the damp, sour stench of dung all conspired together, nearly bringing tears to her eyes.

In moments like this, the fragrant, perfumed playboy at her side proved tremendously useful. Like a walking, oversized aromatherapy diffuser, purifying the air around her. Lin Sui’an, without quite noticing it, had begun drifting closer and closer to him. The little breeze stirred up by Hua Yitang’s small fan was delicately scented and blew over her most pleasantly. She thought to herself that she would definitely stop mocking Hua Yitang for his vanity from now on — in critical moments, all that fastidious primping really did come in handy.

But gradually, Hua Yitang’s fanning slowed, and his path began to veer. His head was about to knock straight into a camel’s hump, when Lin Sui’an’s quick eyes and hands shot out and yanked him back — only to find Hua Yitang with his neck stiff, his head turned to the other side, and his neck and ears flushed a solid red.

Lin Sui’an said in surprise, “Why is your face so red?”

Hua Yitang’s gaze darted around. “I’m allergic to camel hair.”

“Oh,” said Lin Sui’an. She suppressed a laugh and quietly put some distance between them.

The great first playboy of Yangdu, and this was how easily he got flustered.

But the moment she moved away, Hua Yitang instead edged closer. He shifted the position of his fan as well — it had been in front of his own chest; now it was angled beneath Lin Sui’an’s shoulder. The pace of his fanning picked up too, quite evidently directed toward her service.

Lin Sui’an was more amused than ever. “When we get back, I’ll have Mu Xia find me a couple of sachet balls to hang on me too.”

Hua Yitang said, “Hanging sachet balls on your person is rather cumbersome, and inconvenient in a fight. If you like the scent, I’ll just hang a couple more on myself.”

Lin Sui’an laughed helplessly. “So I’m supposed to hang you on myself instead?”

“That works.”

Lin Sui’an’s step faltered. She looked up sharply.

Hua Yitang’s fan had stopped. Both eyes were staring straight ahead, round as saucers, as though he had suddenly realized what he’d just said. His throat bobbed twice in rapid succession. “I — I mean we’re partners, aren’t we, bound by life and death, never parting — naturally we ought to be inseparable.”

Lin Sui’an sighed inwardly. She thought: the additional terms of this partnership kept growing by the day.

The queue ahead gradually began to move faster. The West Market’s ward gate came into view, and the two of them were swept along by the crowd through the entrance. The scene opened up before them. The four broad roads forming a grid pattern efficiently dispersed the merchant caravans. Both of them let out a breath of relief. Following the road signs into North Qu’s Yong’an Street, they found Number 37, Westwind Pawnshop, sandwiched between two rice shops on either side. Compared to its neighbors, the pawnshop had almost no customers. A wooden sign reading “Shop for Transfer” hung by the door. Behind the counter, a single clerk was dozing. The place looked as though it was on the verge of going under.

Hua Yitang slapped the pawn ticket down on the counter. The clerk opened his eyes and looked it over. “This is a託物 receipt. Where is the token?”

Hua Yitang immediately understood what he was asking and produced the bronze key. The clerk rummaged under the counter for a wooden box, then took out a rubbing of the key’s profile from inside the box, compared it against the bronze key, confirmed it matched, returned the key to Hua Yitang, and turned to go into the back storeroom. After about the time it takes to drink half a cup of tea, he came out carrying a wooden box.

Lin Sui’an’s eyes lit up. It was the very wooden box from the golden finger’s vision.

The two of them moved the wooden box over to a spot against the wall, shielded it with their bodies, and used the key to undo the copper lock. The scroll titled “Flowers should be plucked while they are in bloom” lay quietly inside. Hua Yitang took out the scroll and snapped it open. It was a scroll bound in the dragon-scale binding style, its colorful pages fanning up and flipping like fish scales. The earlier pages were somewhat yellowed; further along they gradually became whiter. Apart from a small amount of written text, the pages were covered entirely in illustrations — white-line figure drawings, it appeared —

Lin Sui’an was just about to look more carefully when Hua Yitang abruptly brought his hands together and rolled the entire scroll back up at lightning speed.

“I hadn’t finished looking —” Lin Sui’an caught herself mid-sentence, because Hua Yitang’s face had turned a greenish purple, and she was greatly alarmed. “Is there poison on the scroll?!”

Hua Yitang stuffed the scroll back in the box and said in a low voice, “Back to the estate. Now.”

Only then did Lin Sui’an see clearly: Hua Yitang’s face had turned that peculiar color because blood had surged to it with great force — to put it in plain terms, he had gone “red fading to black, purple tinged with green.”

The greatest playboy of Yangdu had seen every manner of dramatic sight imaginable. For him to look like this, the contents of that scroll were evidently no ordinary matter. Lin Sui’an didn’t dare dally. She immediately shielded Hua Yitang and moved toward the door — but the moment one foot crossed the threshold, she felt a cold flash of light cutting toward her from ahead. Lin Sui’an yanked Hua Yitang by his sash and flung him back inside, then launched herself out the door, drew her blade, and met the attack head-on. Qian Jing’s green light swept across her pupils as she cleaved one black-clad figure aside.

Outside the door, at some unknown moment, six black-clad, masked figures had appeared, all drawn up in a line before the pawnshop entrance. Lin Sui’an narrowed her eyes. She noticed that every one of these black-clad figures carried an identical black saber — two chi long and three fingers wide — that, apart from the color of the blade, bore an almost identical profile to Qian Jing.