Ming Huazhang had said it so plainly that Ming Huashang felt genuinely embarrassed: “Brother, I actually…”

“I know,” said Ming Huazhang. He had anticipated this from the moment he saw her, and was quite calm about it. “You want to crack this case that badly?”

Once the veil had been drawn back, Ming Huashang steadied herself. She lifted her gaze and looked at Ming Huazhang with complete seriousness: “Brother, a human life is at stake. I want to know the truth.”

Ming Huazhang said nothing. His gaze was nearly scrutinizing. Ming Huashang met it without flinching or looking away, and said: “Second Brother, I have no intention of using you. I did not come tonight to win something from you by bringing food. I genuinely wish to get along well with Second Brother — and just as genuinely, I want to understand what truly happened in the Wei household and unravel this mystery.”

“Why?” asked Ming Huazhang. “You can’t possibly be unaware of what the Xuan Xiaowei is. Whatever cruelties the officials of the old regime committed — this group does the same, only underground. Why would you want to join them?”

Ming Huazhang truly could not understand why Ming Huashang was so insistent. She had no material wants, her family was harmonious, and she had everything the world might offer. Why would she forsake the life of a pampered young lady to walk into the shadows?

Ming Huashang was quiet for a moment. She wasn’t certain whether, had she not known she was a false daughter, she would still have been moved by General Han’s invitation — but what was done could not be undone, and such hypotheticals were entirely pointless. Since she had already chosen this path, she had to walk it through — even if the path was wrong.

Wavering, abandoning it halfway — that was how you died without even knowing how.

The night rain drummed on the windows, a thin, cold sound filling the room; the candlelight was a lone vessel adrift in a vast dark sea. Ming Huashang’s eyes held the glow of the flame, a shimmering luminousness that was striking to behold. She reached across the table and closed her hand around Ming Huazhang’s forearm, speaking with genuine sincerity: “Brother, I understand all your concerns. But everyone who shows me respect, who praises me — they do so only because I am Duke Zhenguo’s daughter, your sister. Any person placed in my position would receive exactly the same. I have no grievance toward you or Father — but sometimes I want to exist simply as Ming Huashang.”

Ming Huashang tilted her head slightly to look at him. From this angle, her features appeared especially delicate and precise. The collar of the ill-fitting robe had fallen open at the neck, revealing a slender throat — yet at the waist, the belt cinched it abruptly tight, tracing a line that was breathtaking in its curve.

Ming Huazhang had been looking at her eyes. His gaze, for a reason he could not name, dropped to her collarbone. The hollow was faint and shallow, giving way to a broad expanse of skin that was unnervingly pale, gleaming in the lamplight like the finest white porcelain.

He looked for only an instant. Then he caught himself, and recoiled as though he had committed some transgression. When he spoke, his voice had lost the even composure of a moment before: it was, strangely, a little tight. “You’re oversimplifying this. You have no idea how great the danger is. When you took those risks — did you give any thought to Father?”

Ming Huashang was still for a moment, then said, “I did. Of course I love and honor Father — but he is not me. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life known only as Duke Zhenguo’s daughter, and then some man’s wife — all of it spent turning in circles within the inner quarters. I don’t want everything I have to depend entirely on a man’s favor, so that the moment the wind shifts and he stops loving me, I fall into an abyss with no bottom.”

Ming Huazhang heard something off in her words. His expression grew more guarded, and he looked at Ming Huashang with a searching gaze: “Did you hear some unpleasant talk? What made you start thinking this way? As long as I am here, I will never allow anyone to bully you.”

Ming Huashang let out a faint, bitter smile: “And what about after I’m married? Yes — you could help me choose a husband of good character from a fine family. But you cannot guard me forever; there will always be moments you cannot see. If my husband’s affections should wander — or if my mother-in-law takes a dislike to me — you can hardly step in for those things.”

Ming Huazhang frowned subtly, his gaze on Ming Huashang cool and serious. Ming Huashang smiled at him and tried to make the words sound lighter: “Of course, it’s also possible I’m the one woman among thousands who gets lucky — a husband devoted to me alone, an open-minded mother-in-law, sisters-in-law who are all learned and gracious. But a life like that is exhausting to maintain. I want to be like Princess Taiping — never worried that a husband might stray, never caught up in inner-household strife. I don’t need great power. I only want enough to protect myself, enough to live as I choose. That would be enough.”

Ming Huazhang found that he still did not truly know Ming Huashang. He had assumed she was naturally lethargic, free of ambition, content with calm simplicity — which was not entirely wrong, except that his idea of “calm” was not the same as hers.

Ming Huazhang asked, “Has something happened?”

Ming Huashang inwardly sighed. He was perceptive — no wonder he had been recruited into the Xuan Xiaowei so early. Of course — she was a nobody in Luoyang, but Ming Huazhang was a brilliant talent known throughout the capital. There was no reason such a luminous young man would escape the Empress’s notice.

The Empress had always been formidable at recognizing ability. Those whose talents she identified almost never proved to be misjudged.

“No,” said Ming Huashang. She lowered her gaze. In the end, she did not speak the truth — that she was a stand-in, and would die in a year’s time. She said, with just a touch of pleading in her voice, “Second Brother, I’m not asking for any special treatment. Only — can you give me a chance to prove myself?”

Ming Huazhang let out a quiet sigh, and said honestly: “I still don’t agree with you joining the Xuan Xiaowei.”

Yet standing in his role as squad leader, he could not strip her of a fair chance to compete, nor dismiss the effort she had put in.

Ming Huashang heard this and was overjoyed. She immediately asked: “Second Brother, can you tell me what the inside of the workshop looks like?”

Ming Huazhang sighed, rose, and said: “It’s too much to explain in a few words. Come with me.”

Ming Huashang followed Ming Huazhang to the writing desk, looked at the unrolled paper, and said with easy familiarity: “Second Brother, you’ve already drawn it out — how impressive!”

Ming Huazhang lifted a paperweight and set it down at the corner of the map with practiced ease, saying flatly: “There’s no need to flatter me. Just be yourself.”

Ming Huashang felt a flash of self-consciousness — she had clearly been overdoing the flattery lately. She tucked her arm through Ming Huazhang’s and said with solemn conviction: “What flattery? In my heart, Second Brother is simply the best.”

Ming Huazhang gave a quiet laugh, chose to take it as genuine, and let it pass. His pale, jade-like fingertips rested against the paper. “This is the plan of the Wei family workshop that I reconstructed from memory. Some of the details still need work.”

“Not at all — this is already perfect.” As she spoke, Ming Huashang quickly drew out a blank sheet, attempting to copy the map. “Second Brother, may I borrow your brush? You don’t mind if I trace it, do you?”

Ming Huazhang had no concern for such trifles. He stepped back to give her room. He had meant to be respectful of his sister’s interests and artistic sensibilities — but after watching for a while, he found himself unable to hold out any longer: “Don’t bother copying — just take this one.”

Ming Huashang set down her brush. She looked at the crooked, sorry tangle of ink in front of her, and felt she ought to make at least a token protest: “But wouldn’t that be wrong — you spent so long drawing it…”

“It’s fine,” said Ming Huazhang. “It won’t take much effort to redo. Take it.”

With that as permission, Ming Huashang did not hesitate further, and rolled up the map to keep. As she rolled it, she asked: “Second Brother, what was the murder weapon?”

“Wei Yanqing said it was a carving knife,” said Ming Huazhang, indicating the length with his fingers. “About this long.”

Ming Huashang frowned: “Something that small can kill?”

“It can,” said Ming Huazhang. “As long as it strikes the carotid artery.”

“Then the killer must have been someone familiar to the victim,” said Ming Huashang, thinking it through. “Wei Baixuan wasn’t a wooden post — how could she have allowed anyone to stab her in the artery unless they were someone she knew very well?”

Ming Huazhang fell silent. True to his word, he was not willing to offer a single word of guidance. Ming Huashang quietly sighed — prying information out of him was no easy task; she would have to rely on herself.

The rain outside had begun to ease; it seemed it would soon stop. It was the middle of the night — and however close siblings might be, lingering in an elder brother’s room this late was improper. Ming Huashang took the moment to bid farewell: “Second Brother, I’ve stayed too long this evening — I’m sorry to have kept you. I’ll take my leave.”

Ming Huazhang murmured a quiet acknowledgment, then began gathering his things. “I’ll walk you back.”

Ming Huashang was alarmed and quickly said: “There’s no need — we’re in our own home, there’s no need to go to such trouble. I have Zhao Cai with me.”

But on this point, Ming Huazhang was entirely unyielding. He took up a paper umbrella painted with ink bamboo, unhurriedly opened it, and said, without turning his head: “There’s wind outside. Fasten your clothes — mind you don’t catch cold.”

Knowing that arguing was useless, Ming Huashang could only follow Ming Huazhang outside without protest. Ming Huazhang stood in the rain, umbrella in hand, the very image of a slender, upright stalk of bamboo — lean and clear.

The rain was nearly spent; the night had turned breezy. But Ming Huazhang’s hand remained perfectly steady throughout, so that not a single drop fell on her — and his body blocked the greater portion of the night wind as well.

Ming Huashang held the map against her chest, and felt, without quite knowing why, a deep and quiet sense of safety.

There was no question: Ming Huazhang was cold, reticent, and not easy to approach. But he always did far more than he said, steady and responsible in all things. In his presence, one could not help but feel, gradually, entirely at ease.

Ming Huazhang walked her to the entrance of her courtyard. She stood beneath the eaves, hand on the door, and then suddenly turned — looking at Ming Huazhang with full seriousness: “Thank you.”

Then she pushed the door open and went inside, without waiting for any reply. Only she knew that those words came from the very bottom of her heart, entirely free of social custom.

Thank you for disagreeing with me — and for still being willing to support me.

Jin Bao and the other two maidservants had been staring at the rain in anxious despair; at last Ming Huashang had returned. They had barely let out half a breath of relief when they noticed what she was wearing, and that half-breath shot right back up: “Young Mistress, that clothing — ?”

“Second Brother’s,” said Ming Huashang. After so much exertion today she was thoroughly exhausted and in no mood to explain. “Keep the clothes safe, wash them carefully. I’ll return them to Second Brother myself when the time comes.”

The maidservants agreed, then swarmed to help Ming Huashang change. Once she had put on light sleeping clothes, Ming Huashang realized — she had forgotten to ask why Ming Huazhang had joined the Xuan Xiaowei.

But having let the moment pass, some questions simply couldn’t be asked again. Ming Huashang lay back on her bed, let out a weary yawn, and thought drowsily as she drifted toward sleep — from here on, she would have to manage entirely on her own.

She would find a way to dig out the truth the Wei family was hiding. Tomorrow, she would start with Wei Moyuan.

No matter who the killer was, Wei Moyuan had been the one who, upon discovering the scene of the death, had sent the others away — causing Wei Baixuan’s body to go missing. He was the linchpin of the entire affair; even if he wasn’t the killer, he certainly knew something.

Perhaps it would be worth approaching this from the angle of his past. Only by understanding his upbringing and life experience could Ming Huashang do what she had done at Feihong Manor — step into his perspective and see through his eyes.