The blow Cai Zhao dealt wasn’t particularly heavy or light. While certainly less severe than internal injuries like damaged dantian or depleted qi, it was more serious than a typical flesh wound. Initially, Cai Zhao felt a twinge of regret, but upon seeing You Guanyue’s excessively grief-stricken face, she coldly remarked, “Your master is merely injured, not at death’s door. You Guanyue, you’re overdoing it.”
You Guanyue sheepishly retreated. Shangguan Haonan whispered in his ear, “Didn’t I tell you not to put on an act? The master has his plans.”
“I was just trying to help smooth the path for the master’s romance,” You Guanyue defended.
Shangguan Haonan expressed surprise, “You’re still single yourself. Where did you get the confidence to meddle in the master’s love life?”
You Guanyue was left speechless, thinking, “How rude.”
In an elegant chamber at the foot of Wu’an Mountain, silk curtains cascaded like water. Mu Qingyan reclined on the bed, his face even paler than his silk inner robes.
Cai Zhao sat outside the curtains, both of them silent.
“It’s too late to climb the mountain now,” Mu Qingyan said. “Let’s leave at dawn. We can rest for a few hours.”
Cai Zhao looked up, asking, “Where should I sleep?”
After a pause, Mu Qingyan replied, “This… was originally your room.”
Though seemingly out of context, Cai Zhao understood.
She rose and walked to a tall lacquered cabinet. Opening it, she found neatly stacked sets of women’s clothing, from delicate undergarments to outer cloaks.
Cai Zhao took nothing, slamming the cabinet shut. She stomped to a couch by the window, lay down, and haphazardly covered herself with a thin blanket. Mu Qingyan said nothing about her obvious tantrum, simply extinguishing the candle before lying down himself.
Time passed. The room fell into dark silence, punctuated by the chirping of crickets outside. Tree leaves rustled gently in the breeze, their shadows dancing on the window’s gauze in the moonlight, creating a tender, intimate atmosphere.
Suddenly, Cai Zhao spoke, “Is this endless pursuit worth it to you?”
A calm male voice replied from behind the curtain, “You’re not me. How can you know it’s not worth it?”
Cai Zhao gritted her teeth, grinding the embroidery on her cover. “You’re a sect leader now, with heavy responsibilities. I have family and friends to consider. Can’t you see the bigger picture?”
After a moment of silence, Mu Qingyan spoke softly, “When my father was fourteen, he thought he could survive independently in the martial world and planned to leave. Chou Zhang begged him to stay, arguing that the loyal Mu clan servants would be at Nie Hengcheng’s mercy if he left. So, my father stayed.”
He continued, detailing how his father remained trapped by duty and manipulation for years, even after the arrival of Sun Ruoshui. Cai Zhao sighed softly as Mu Qingyan referred to his mother by name, rather than as “Madam Sun.”
Mu Qingyan concluded, “And then… I was born, further tying my father down for over a decade.” His voice dripped with sarcasm, “The bigger picture? My father was the epitome of considering the bigger picture, but what good did it do him?”
“For the divine realm, Nie Hengcheng merely usurped the divine legacy. For himself, my father lived a life of frustration, never setting foot beyond the Hanhai Mountains. If he were still alive, I’d be content to be a refined, carefree outsider like him. But he’s dead.”
“Zhao, don’t resent me for pursuing you. I won’t live like my father, forsaking my heart’s desire and enduring a lifetime of repression. If you truly despise me, you might as well take my life; I won’t resist. But as long as I live, I won’t let you go. I won’t harm you or your family. For now, let’s take it one step at a time…”
Cai Zhao drifted off, unable to recall Mu Qingyan’s final words. She dreamed of walking on soft, swaying reeds by the Qingluo River, hearing the steward crab calling her home for dinner.
She awoke to bright daylight, sitting dazed in her bedding with disheveled clothes exposing her delicate collarbone and pink skin, like a lost rag doll. Mu Qingyan sat beside the bed, his gaze deep and dark, having watched her for who knows how long.
Last night’s dream-like confrontation seemed forgotten as he calmly urged Cai Zhao to have breakfast. He detailed the freshly caught shrimp in the dumplings, and the bone broth used for the purple rice porridge, and warned her to be careful with the sesame candy biscuits lest the syrup spill out.
Facing the mercurial manor owner, Cai Zhao sighed, spoon in hand, “Lord Mu, you truly are suited for great things.”
Mu Qingyan replied impassively, “Thank you. You’re not far behind yourself, Lady Cai.”
After breakfast, they set out immediately, quickly reaching the Chang family fortress and heading straight for the graveyard behind the mountain.
Cai Zhao got straight to the point, “Alright, tell me about your leads.”
Mu Qingyan began, “As I mentioned before, I suspected there was a mastermind behind the Chang family massacre. After dealing with some trivial matters, I arrived at the Chang family fortress several days before you. I had people thoroughly search the fortress ruins, even digging half a foot into the foundations to look for secret rooms or tunnels, but we found nothing…”
Cai Zhao suddenly realized, “So that’s why the burnt ruins were in such disarray. I thought it was looters, but it was your doing.”
Mu Qingyan smiled. “No need for indirect criticism. We indeed have skilled diggers among us. I brought a few along this time.”
Seeing her sarcasm fail, Cai Zhao changed tack. “So you found nothing. Then what?”
“With no other options, I recalled my time recuperating at the Chang family home,” Mu Qingyan continued. “Most things were destroyed in the fire, but this place remains intact.” He gestured at the surrounding graves. “Then I remembered something. Shortly after Madam Chang’s death, the Qingming Festival arrived. Master Chang was grief-stricken, having lost both his wife and daughter. He was alone and desolate. On Qingming, the entire household visited the ancestral graves, but Master Chang went alone at night with a food basket. I wanted to follow, but he declined my company.”
“What are you getting at?” Cai Zhao asked, increasingly confused.
Mu Qingyan questioned, “Do you know what offerings the Wu’an people use for their ancestors?”
“Soy sauce dumplings?” Cai Zhao guessed.
Mu Qingyan smiled. “No. Wu’an custom dictates three vegetarian fruits, three vegetarian dishes, six other items, and some water and wine for family members. Meat offerings are only for non-family members.”
Cai Zhao began to understand. “So Master Chang’s basket contained meat offerings that night?”
“Exactly,” Mu Qingyan confirmed. He walked between two tombstones, explaining, “I’ve examined every grave here. They’re all Chang family members or loyal servants. Even Master Chang’s sworn brothers, having no family, were buried here under the Chang family’s care.”
Cai Zhao grasped the implication. “So who was Master Chang offering meat to?”
“I initially thought the Chang family massacre was because of me. Master Chang, on his deathbed, insisted it wasn’t and told me not to feel guilty. I thought he was just comforting me, but now I think he might have been telling the truth. The Chang family was hiding a secret.”
Mu Qingyan frowned. “Unfortunately, it’s been a year. Any offerings have long since been consumed by wild animals. I can’t identify this outsider buried in the Chang family plot. I feel this is key to unraveling the mystery.”
Cai Zhao thought for a moment, then asked, “What were you planning to do the day we came up with the Taichu Observatory disciples?”
Mu Qingyan’s eyes shifted slightly before he smiled.
Cai Zhao’s eyes widened. “No wonder you brought skilled diggers. Were you planning to exhume graves?!”
Mu Qingyan sighed. “I was still hesitating.”
“The Chang family treated you so well, and you planned to desecrate their ancestral graves? You’re heartless!” Cai Zhao exclaimed.
“I was wrong, I admit it. I just wanted to find the mastermind behind the massacre,” Mu Qingyan placated her. “Now, tell me about your clues. You shared them with Song Yuzhi, so surely you can tell me. Maybe we can solve this without grave-digging.”
Cai Zhao glared at him but relented. “It’s not much. My father investigated here months ago and said something was different from when he visited over a decade ago.” She recounted her father’s words.
“But my third senior brother and I looked around and found nothing unusual,” she added, puzzled.
Mu Qingyan’s eyes lit up. “There is indeed something strange here!”
“What? How do you know already?” Cai Zhao asked, bewildered.
“Didn’t you notice anything odd in your father’s words?” Mu Qingyan pressed, his eyes gleaming.
Cai Zhao grew more confused. “What did my father say? In early spring over a decade ago, he spent half a day here, lost in thought. Then my aunt called him back to wash his face with cold water to clear his mind.” She couldn’t see anything amiss in this brief account.
“Exactly that!” Mu Qingyan exclaimed, looking at her with amusement. “It seems Luoying Valley truly is spring-like year-round, and you haven’t spent much time in Jiuli Mountain. Even Song Yuzhi, who lives on a mountain, didn’t catch it. Hmph, clearly just a pretty face!”
Cai Zhao bristled. “If you have something to say, say it. Keep mocking me, and I’ll leave!”
“Alright, alright, I’ll explain,” Mu Qingyan said, smiling. “First, tell me, do you feel cold or hot right now?”
Cai Zhao paused, unconsciously tightening her collar. “It’s a bit chilly.”
Mu Qingyan nodded. “Wu’an Mountain is naturally cold, and this is a shaded valley. It’s chilly even in early summer, let alone when your father visited in early spring.”
Cai Zhao agreed.
“Your father spent half a day in the graveyard, so he must have been cold,” Mu Qingyan continued. “Normally, after being in the cold mountain wind for so long, what would one do upon returning?”
“Drink a bowl of ginger soup to ward off the chill, of course,” Cai Zhao replied.
“But your aunt told your father to wash his face with cold water,” Mu Qingyan said slowly.
Cai Zhao gasped, shocked. “…Why would she do that?” She scratched her ear, then looked up. “Was my father’s face flushed from the sun?”
Mu Qingyan’s eyes showed approval. “That’s exactly what I think.”
“I see, I see!” Cai Zhao muttered. “No wonder my father felt something was off. He vaguely remembered his face being hot from the sun over a decade ago, but not during his recent visit.”
She looked around, confused. “But this place is shaded. Even now in early summer, the sunlight is weak. How could my father’s face have been sun-flushed in early spring?”
Mu Qingyan’s gaze darkened. “There must be a spot here with abundant sunlight, enough to heat one’s face.”
Cai Zhao followed his gaze, surveying the surroundings. A cold wind blew across the desolate graveyard, thick with a gloomy atmosphere.