Hua Yitang’s fainting had the effect of disturbing a hornets’ nest. Mu Xia leapt up and called out in alarm. Yi Ta yelled about not understanding Tang dialect. More than twenty servants came pouring in from outside the pavilion. Mu Xia quickly directed them into action — some fetching water, some fanning, some running to summon the physician — a chaotic uproar that caused a vein to twitch visibly at Fang Ke’s temple. He let out a roar:

“What is all this noise! Everyone, shut your mouths!”

The entire waterside pavilion went silent in an instant. Every person looked as though a pause button had been pressed on them. They all turned to stare at Fang Ke rolling up his sleeves and pressing three fingers in succession against Hua Yitang’s pulse point — only then did it dawn on them all that this red-robed coroner was, at his core, a physician.

Lin Sui’an was also somewhat anxious. Since she’d first come to know Hua Yitang, she had never once seen him this weak. What made things worse was that Fang Ke took the pulse for a long time without saying a word, and then sighed.

Lin Sui’an’s heart lurched into her throat. As the saying goes, it’s not the Western doctor’s verdict you need to fear — it’s the Chinese doctor’s sighing. Could this playboy actually have some hidden ailment?

Jin Ruo’s face had also gone pale. “Is this Hua fellow going to be alright?”

Fang Ke looked up. His gaze, still as a deep well, settled on Lin Sui’an’s face. He intoned slowly: “Excessive thinking has led to overtaxed weakness and mental exhaustion, resulting in fever of the mind and fatigue of the body.”

This, at least, Lin Sui’an could follow. She quickly pressed the back of her hand to Hua Yitang’s forehead to test his temperature. Sure enough — overexertion of the mind had caused a fever.

Jin Ruo breathed a sigh of relief, but kept his mouth merciless. “Any hope for him?”

Fang Ke shot him a sideways glance. “This sort of plague on society won’t die so easily. Send him back to his room and let him sleep it off.”

Mu Xia said, “Quickly — prepare a soft litter to carry Fourth Young Master back to his quarters —”

“No need for all that fuss. I’ll carry him.” Jin Ruo crouched down and arched his back. “I’ll give him a piggyback.”

Everyone worked together to hoist Hua Yitang onto Jin Ruo’s back. But Hua Yitang — whether from the fever making him delirious, or something else entirely — absolutely refused to stay in place and kept sliding down like a strand of overcooked noodle, no matter how many attempts were made.

Lin Sui’an couldn’t watch anymore. She pushed through the crowd, stepped forward, hooked one arm under the back of Hua Yitang’s knees, wrapped her other arm around his back, gave a light lift, and carried him sideways in a bridal carry. “I’ll take him.”

Mu Xia quickly had servants bring lanterns to lead the way. Yi Ta called out about brewing a fever-clearing and lung-soothing tea. Jin Ruo was about to follow when Fang Ke grabbed his arm.

Jin Ruo said, “What?”

Fang Ke said, “Watch you don’t grow a sty on your eye.”

“What?”

The main garden where Hua Yitang resided was called “Siyuan,” taking its name from the verse “Those who taste the fruit think of the tree; those who drink from the stream remember the source.” It was located in the deepest part of the estate. Setting out from the Youying Waterside Pavilion, one had to cross the Hibiscus Bridge, pass through the Misty Moon Corridor, and traverse the Autumn Wutong Grove — even walking quickly, it took nearly two quarters of an hour.

Every ten steps along both sides of the path stood a stone lantern. Carved from a special variety of stone in the shape of small palace lanterns on a stand, roughly three chi tall, with a small eave for rain protection and latticed openings on all four sides, when a candle wick was lit within, the entire lantern glowed and became translucent and crystalline, so that from a distance it appeared as though the stone itself were emitting light. The first time Lin Sui’an had seen them, she had been awestruck and momentarily thought this era had invented electricity. On closer examination, she found that the stone used to make the lanterns had the property of channeling and transmitting light — a special craft of the Hua Family, and extraordinarily expensive to produce.

It was now just past the third quarter of the xu hour. The moon had just risen, the night still young. The night settled like a fine mist over everything. Lin Sui’an stepped onto the Hibiscus Bridge in the glow of the lanterns. The Hibiscus Bridge was a sixteen-arch wooden arched bridge — the highest point over the estate’s inner lake, from which one could look down over its full panoramic view. Behind her, the Youying Waterside Pavilion blazed with lights. Below the bridge, the lake water shimmered and rippled. The stone lanterns stretched out in a long, dream-like line into the darkness ahead, as though pointing toward some unknowable future.

The evening breeze was cool and gentle as it came drifting in. Hua Yitang’s robes, white as plum petals, lifted and billowed, catching the lantern light as they glowed.

Mu Xia and the servants with the lanterns had already crossed the bridge and gone ahead. There was no one else before or behind. In the tranquil air, Lin Sui’an heard Hua Yitang’s breathing — it had been long and steady, then turned rapid and hurried, and then suddenly went still entirely, as though something had covered his mouth and nose.

Lin Sui’an glanced down. Hua Yitang’s lashes were trembling violently. The spreading flush at the edge of his ears surged like a wave across his entire face. His throat bobbed in flustered up-and-down motion. Lin Sui’an stifled a laugh. “Are you trying to suffocate yourself?”

Hua Yitang started as if jolted awake, then fluttered out of her arms like a panicked butterfly, limbs flailing — fortunately his arms and legs were long enough that he landed quite steadily on his feet. He fumbled for his fan and fanned himself at full speed, a layer of sparkling perspiration breaking out across his forehead.

Lin Sui’an leaned against the bridge railing, watching him sideways, mentally calculating whether he had been faking unconsciousness from the very start or only woke up partway here.

“Every young woman carries someone on their back — why on earth did you go and carry me in your arms —” Hua Yitang shot a glance at Lin Sui’an and looked away again, abruptly sheepish.

Understood. He had been faking from the start.

Lin Sui’an sighed. “Hua Yitang, what are you up to now?”

Hua Yitang exhaled a long breath, inhaled again, and finally dispersed the restless heat in his body enough to manage. He glanced around in all directions, then leaned over toward her — only to be pushed back by Lin Sui’an to arm’s length. “Speak. There’s no one nearby.”

Hua Yitang looked at Lin Sui’an with a thoughtful expression and said quietly, “There was one line in the scroll that I didn’t write down.”

Lin Sui’an started. “Does it concern me?”

Hua Yitang nodded. His expression became grave. “After ‘the vast star charts of the cosmos’ there was a line: ‘When the Heavenly-One fractures, the qi of the ten directions, Qian Jing holds the earth steady, fit to be the Star Lord.'”

Lin Sui’an’s heart skipped a beat. The bamboo slip Luo Shichuan had given her bore the characters “When the Heavenly-One fractures.” The first and last characters of “the qi of the ten directions, Qian Jing holds the earth steady” gave you “Ten Purities.” Good heavens — the range of source materials connecting Qian Jing and the Ten Purities Collection kept expanding to remarkable degrees, from ancient texts now all the way to erotic illustrations, and every time they appeared, they were linked to deaths —

Lin Sui’an removed Qian Jing from her sash and drew the blade from its sheath. She held the flat of the blade across her open palm. The moonlight skimmed the razor-sharp edge and threw off a ghostly, serpentine gleam. The cold of the blade traveled through her palm and chilled half her arm. She could not help but sigh softly, and a quiet laugh escaped her:

“Sure enough, this blade and its technique are ill-omened.”

Hua Yitang leaned against the bridge railing, shoulder touching Lin Sui’an’s shoulder, fanning himself in a slow, easy rhythm. There was a faint warmth of amusement in his voice. “My own fate is even more ill-omened. Between the two of us, the toxins should cancel each other out — surely we are bound to turn misfortune into fortune at last.”

Lin Sui’an slid the blade back into its sheath and, like Hua Yitang, turned her face upward toward the vast night sky. Tonight was the waxing crescent. There were clouds. The moonlight lay open and unrestrained across the gaps between them, and the wind carried a clarity of water-cool air that dampened her brows and bent her lashes. Hua Yitang was, in a rare moment, genuinely quiet, yet Lin Sui’an felt his presence more strongly than she ever had before — not because of the incense, nor because of the elaborate clothing. The feeling was difficult to describe. It was like the softest petal falling onto the top of her head, trembling gently in the breeze, changing the very quality of the air around them. Lin Sui’an took in this peculiar sensation quietly, and thought to herself: Hua Yitang, when he wasn’t being a chatterbox, was actually quite pleasant company.

Then, all at once, a breath fell onto her shoulder like a cloud of warm mist. Lin Sui’an’s body gave an involuntary shiver. She felt Hua Yitang’s warmth and weight pressing against her.

This time, he had truly fallen asleep.

Lin Sui’an felt an inexplicable urge to laugh. She stayed still a moment longer, then reached up to steady his head, stood, and — having briefly considered a bridal carry but deciding to spare a certain person’s dignity — shifted position, lifted the deeply sleeping Hua Yitang onto her back, and walked onward through the moonlight and lantern glow.

Hua Yitang slept for two full days and two nights. During that time Fang Ke pried his mouth open to pour in several bowls of medicinal soup, and Mu Xia pried his mouth open to pour in several bowls of rice porridge. From Mu Xia’s practiced efficiency, it was evident he had done this many times before. Jin Ruo became curious and asked about it. Mu Xia only smiled and said nothing. It was Yi Ta who couldn’t keep it in and let something slip.

“Fourth Young Master, when he was young, he was sick for a good few months. Mu Xia was incredibly skilled at getting the medicine in.”

But when Jin Ruo asked why Hua Yitang had been ill for so many months, Yi Ta clamped up as well and wouldn’t say another word. Even when Lin Sui’an pressed, he ignored her entirely — push it any further and he balled up his fist and looked ready to start swinging. Jin Ruo had no choice but to drop it.

In truth, Jin Ruo didn’t have much time to stay in the estate these two days. He was out every day gathering information, had combed through a large portion of the Eastern Capital, and found not a trace of Yun Zhong Yue. Stranger still, all the major families were also unusually calm — there was no movement of any kind whatsoever.

Honestly speaking, if even a single one of the illustrations in the scroll were to leak, it would stir up enormous waves. This kind of quiet was, in fact, making everyone deeply uneasy. Nobody knew what Yun Zhong Yue was up to, and the mysterious jianghu faction that had been using counterfeit Qian Jings had also inexplicably gone to ground.

“You know what they say — before the mountain rain comes, the air is already full of wind,” Jin Ruo murmured, arranging the pastries on the table into a map of the Eastern Capital’s wards, eating one, replacing it, then eating another. “I’m now seriously suspicious that Yun Zhong Yue is building up to some major move.”

Lin Sui’an looked out at the overcast sky outside and sighed. “Tomorrow is the day of the negotiations with the Eastern Capital’s Pure Gate. The weather doesn’t look promising.”

Yi Ta said, “The pig-lady’s right. Cloudy weather, bad luck.”

Lin Sui’an: “……”

She had meant that the negotiation venue was on the Yunshui River, and rain might make things unsafe.

Fang Ke was slowly leafing through the copy of the scroll that Hua Yitang had reproduced from memory. Mu Xia had remounted these illustrations as a new scroll, and had changed its title to “Water Pattern Records” to avoid drawing suspicion. Everyone who had seen it once had no desire to ever look at it again — everyone except Fang Ke, who cheerfully examined it for two days and even had Mu Xia purchase more than a hundred volumes of Eastern Capital’s popular works in the same category to study by comparison, periodically sharing his insights with the group.

“This is the work that has been most popular in the Eastern Capital over the past three years,” said Fang Ke, pointing to seven or eight newly purchased scrolls stacked in the left corner of the table. “The brushwork is delicate, the postures bold, and there is genuine aesthetic merit —”

Jin Ruo buried his head in her arms. “Save me, please — I never want to look at this kind of thing ever again in my life!”

Lin Sui’an scratched her head in distress. Yi Ta screwed up her face and stirred her tea in silence. Mu Xia invented a reason to escape.

“The artist’s signature is ‘The Resident of Spring-Pale,’ ” Fang Ke continued, seemingly oblivious to the others. “Shan Yuanming’s pen name was ‘The Resident of Rushes and Reeds.’ Are these not quite similar?”

Jin Ruo cried out, “I’m not listening, I’m not listening, I’m not listening!”

Yi Ta stirred the tea furiously.

Lin Sui’an: “……”

Well, one couldn’t say they were identical — just that they bore absolutely no resemblance whatsoever.

“So I went to Shan Yuanming’s room and found several volumes of his poetry collections, and discovered that the handwriting of the Resident of Spring-Pale and Shan Yuanming is completely identical,” said Fang Ke.

Jin Ruo: “What?!”

Yi Ta’s tea stirrer clattered to the floor.

Lin Sui’an’s astonishment was plain, but her mind moved quickly through every possible explanation and arrived at a conclusion that seemed utterly absurd. “Could it be that Jiang Dongyi genuinely intended to carry on this so-called tradition of absorbing martial essence for longevity, and planned to create a scroll of his own, and needed an artist present to document it in the moment — and ultimately chose Shan Yuanming for the role?!”

Jin Ruo drew a sharp breath. “So the patron who had been secretly funding Shan Yuanming was Jiang Dongyi?!”

Fang Ke said, “Then it’s not surprising that Shan Yuanming came to possess this scroll. After all, for such an important family tradition, one would naturally want to consult a reference or two first.”

Jin Ruo said, “Ugh, this is repulsive!”

Yi Ta kept stirring the tea furiously.

Lin Sui’an still found it hard to make sense of. This scroll was like a terrifying time bomb — it could destroy the Taiyuan Jiang Family and several major clans at any moment. And yet Jiang Dongyi had handed it over so casually to an outsider of a different family name. Unless he had simply considered Shan Yuanming a nobody with no power or standing, who would never dare go up against the Taiyuan Jiang Family —but then, Shan Yuanming had hidden the scroll and kept its location secret until his dying breath, which meant he had betrayed Jiang Dongyi — what made even less sense was that, after betraying Jiang Dongyi, Shan Yuanming hadn’t fled the Eastern Capital at all. He had stayed, and had even dared to attend the Red Sleeve Added to Fragrance Banquet. Did he have no fear of death whatsoever?

A rumble of muffled thunder echoed from where the mountain ranges met the skyline, and the smell of damp air thickened in the wind. A downpour was imminent. The atmosphere was so thick and close it was difficult to breathe. Lin Sui’an had the feeling she was overlooking something crucial, and had walked herself into a dead end.

From outside the waterside pavilion door came the rapid sound of footsteps. Mu Xia walked in hurriedly and clasped his hands together. “Court Investigator Ling has arrived.”

Lin Sui’an glanced at Fang Ke. Fang Ke efficiently gathered every scroll from the table into his large wooden chest, then slipped the “Water Pattern Records” into his sleeve.

Ling Zhiyan came in quickly, trailing a damp chill of water-laden air. He clasped his hands in greeting, looked around the room, and asked, “Where is Fourth Young Master Hua?”

“He overate and came down with a fever — he’s in bed,” Lin Sui’an said smoothly without missing a beat. “Since Court Investigator Ling is already here, do have some tea.”

Ling Zhiyan shook his head. He thought for a moment, then smoothed his robes and sat formally upright across from Lin Sui’an. His manner was so solemn that Lin Sui’an had a sinking feeling, and she too sat up straight at once. “Court Investigator Ling, speak plainly.”

Ling Zhiyan’s expression was grave. His brow was knotted into a tight furrow. He lowered his voice. “Last night, Jiang Dongyi died in the prison of the Court of Judicial Review.”

Lin Sui’an’s mind snapped out an oath. “How did he die?”

“At the third quarter of the zi hour, the night warden discovered the body. The coroner confirmed time of death as somewhere between the hai hour and the zi hour. Cause of death —” Ling Zhiyan looked up. “A self-inflicted cut to the throat.”

Lin Sui’an was so stunned she couldn’t speak.

Fang Ke said, “What weapon?”

“A dagger, three cun in length — a common style from the marketplace, completely untraceable.” Ling Zhiyan said, “Before Jiang Dongyi was put in prison, I personally searched him. I had every garment replaced, right down to his shoes and socks, and even felt through his hair arrangement carefully. Not just a dagger — he couldn’t have concealed so much as a blade. And yet this dagger appeared in Jiang Dongyi’s cell, utterly inexplicably.”

Lin Sui’an said, “Someone brought the dagger into the cell and gave it to Jiang Dongyi?”

Ling Zhiyan said, “Impossible. To prevent guards from taking bribes and smuggling items into the cells, guards on duty at the Court of Judicial Review’s prison are searched before their shifts.”

“Perhaps the one doing the searching and the guards on duty were working together.”

“The Court of Judicial Review’s chief magistrate personally interrogated them all. There is no possibility of that.”

“Does Jiang Dongyi’s cell have a window?” Jin Ruo suddenly spoke up.

Ling Zhiyan said, “Only a single ventilation window. Outside the wall there is also an iron railing further sealing it off, positioned about three zhang away from the cell itself. Between the railing and the cell there are tall locust trees planted to block the sightline. There are also eighteen pairs of officials patrolling outside the iron railing continuously, day and night without stop. Trying to throw something through the ventilation window from outside would be essentially impossible.”

Jin Ruo made a dismissive sound. “What’s impossible about it? Disguise yourself as one of the patrol officials, slip into the railing during an unguarded moment, conceal yourself in the locust grove, wait until dark, approach the ventilation window, and throw the dagger into the cell.”

Ling Zhiyan considered this. “Infiltrating the patrol officials is indeed possible. But the iron railing is smooth and stands over a zhang tall, with iron thorns fixed along the top and no handholds of any kind. Without exaggeration, even if Lady Lin herself attempted it, she could not scale it.”

Lin Sui’an: “……”

Ling Liulang had a rather high opinion of her. She was still a normal human being subject to the pull of gravity.

Jin Ruo said, “How wide are the gaps between the railing bars?”

Ling Zhiyan said, “The widest gap is only four cun. A cat could just barely fit through.”

Jin Ruo rolled his eyes. “That’s more than enough for him.”

Ling Zhiyan was stunned. “Who?!”

“That accursed Yun Zhong Yue!” Jin Ruo slammed the table. “Who else has that shameless bone-shrinking technique?!”

Ling Zhiyan stood slack-jawed for quite a while before he could muster a hesitant question. “Isn’t that something they just make up in storybooks?”

“He’s a real person. I saw him just the other day,” said Lin Sui’an, pressing a hand to her forehead. “He can change his face and shrink his bones. He’s barely human.”

Ling Zhiyan was quiet for another long moment. “That someone could earn such a description from Lady Lin — he likely is barely human.”

Lin Sui’an: “……”

Somehow that sounded extremely strange.

“If this was truly Yun Zhong Yue’s doing, then why did he maneuver Jiang Dongyi into suicide?” Ling Zhiyan pressed his fingers to his brow. “In the Shan Yuanming case, the evidence — both witness testimony and physical proof — was ironclad. Jiang Dongyi confessed and pressed his seal on the admission in open court —”

At this, an ominous premonition rose in Lin Sui’an’s heart. She cut Ling Zhiyan off. “What was the sentence handed down to Jiang Dongyi?”

Ling Zhiyan went quiet again. This time the silence stretched on remarkably long — so long that Lin Sui’an was beginning to think he wouldn’t answer at all. Then he finally said, “The Court of Judicial Review handed down a preliminary sentence of execution after the autumn assizes. The Ministry of Justice reviewed and commuted it to: stripping of the family name and exile to three thousand li.”

Fang Ke and Jin Ruo both snorted simultaneously in cold contempt.

Lin Sui’an sighed. The premonition had proved correct.

A pale flash of lightning split the heavy black clouds, and a rolling boom of thunder followed, pressing against the eardrums.

“A life for a life — this is an iron law. For Jiang Dongyi to have kept his life, the Taiyuan Jiang Family must have pressured the Ministry of Justice.”

Hua Yitang, in a long white robe, stepped slowly into the waterside pavilion, gathered his robes, and sat down beside Lin Sui’an. He had slept for two days, and his face had gone thinner by a degree, making his eyes look even larger, and the sharpness in them even more pronounced.

“How wonderful — so the name of one of the five surnames and seven clans is worth a human life.”