Huang Zixia had heard Yu Xuan mention this before, but he hadn’t given details. Now hearing Chen Lunyun bring it up, her heart suddenly jumped, and she blurted out: “Failed suicide attempt?”

“Yes, it was after the incident with Prefecture Governor Huang’s family, when Miss Huang fled. Everyone in Chengdu Prefecture knew that Miss Huang and Yu Xuan were close, yet no one expected that after Governor Huang’s incident, Yu Xuan would be the one to report and accuse Miss Huang; nor did anyone expect that after Miss Huang fled and her whereabouts became unknown, Yu Xuan would attempt suicide at Governor Huang’s funeral, right in front of his grave—and even more unexpected was that the one who saved him turned out to be Qi Teng, who seemed to have no previous connection with him.” Chen Lunyun sighed, “Only a few of us in the poetry society know about this. Since both Yu Xuan and Qi Teng were our friends, though several people knew, none of us spoke about it outside.”

Huang Zixia felt a dull ache in her chest and could only lean back against her chair numbly, speechless.

“But Yu Xuan was unconscious for several days before waking up, who knows if something was damaged… don’t you think his personality changed?”

Hearing others say this, Chen Lunyun also nodded: “Yes, he used to be such an otherworldly person, but after that great change, he became absent-minded, as if he didn’t care about anything, yet also seemed deeply suspicious of everyone. And things he told us one day, he would often forget the next…”

“And whenever we accidentally mentioned anything about the Governor’s mansion, he would get headaches. At first, I thought he was grieving over the Governor’s death, but he would break into cold sweats and become so weak he nearly died again, so we… became very careful around him, afraid to mention anything that might remind him of his painful memories.” Others chimed in, expressing their confusion.

“Medically speaking, this can happen. For instance, when someone has suffered too great a shock, bringing up certain matters again might feel unbearable, leading to subconscious rejection and then violent reactions,” Zhou Ziqin analyzed from the side, speaking authoritatively. “There’s also the possibility that when he attempted suicide, something in his brain was affected, causing his personality to change. I once read about such a case in an ancient book…”

While everyone discussed various accounts and cases of personality changes after near-death experiences and major traumas, Huang Zixia listened for a long time without contributing anything useful. She let the words flow in one ear and out the other, sitting quietly in her chair while internally analyzing the various interconnected threads of the case.

It was getting late, and Yu Xuan, who was also a member of the poetry society, had not yet arrived.

Zhou Ziqin, seeing that no one had anything more to say and everyone sitting there awkwardly, said: “Thank you all for answering my questions. I’ll take my leave now. Please let me know when you next gather at Qingyuan, I’d like to join in appreciating the refined arts.”

“Ah, Young Captain comes from Chang’an, with such witty conversation and exceptional insights, it’s our honor that you would take notice of us rural folk!”

“Yes, yes, Young Captain giving us face is truly our good fortune!”

Zhou Ziqin once again demonstrated his ability to make friends everywhere, and after some casual chat and banter, he became good friends with everyone in the Qingyuan Poetry Society.

Several people escorted them to the mouth of Clear Creek, reluctant to part.

Clear Creek was originally a large mountain valley where surrounded by groves of trees, a clear stream split into three or four branches due to the rocky terrain at the valley’s mouth, then merged back into one at the valley’s end, rushing forward.

As they mounted their horses and rode along the stream to the valley’s mouth, they discovered someone walking alone on the opposite side of Clear Creek.

It was Yu Xuan. Hearing the hoofbeats, he turned to look in their direction. Across the stream, he stood alone in the shaded part of the forest, letting the wind and water breeze flutter the hem of his robes, silently gazing at her.

Huang Zixia hesitated for a moment, seeing Zhou Ziqin turn his head to look at her, and say to him: “You go ahead, I think I dropped something and need to go back to look for it.”

Zhou Ziqin made an “oh” sound and looked around, but beside him was a huge boulder that happened to block Yu Xuan’s figure on the opposite bank. Seeing only the deep forest and murmuring stream, nothing unusual, he said to her: “Then hurry back.”

After he left the forest heading toward the main road, Huang Zixia spurred her horse across the stream and rode to Yu Xuan’s side, dismounting.

She heard his voice, low and carrying a trace of weary hoarseness, though she didn’t know how long he had been standing there: “Axia…”

Hearing this name again was like spanning lifetimes.

In Chengdu Prefecture, within the Governor’s mansion, how many times had he called her softly like this: “Axia.”

He used to complain, saying, Axia, you’ve forgotten to eat again, too busy investigating cases, haven’t you? Then he would smile and produce still-warm food from behind his back.

He had once said joyfully, Axia, I helped you review all the account books related to the case last night and finally found a suspicious entry from April of the year before last.

He had once said worriedly, Axia, I’m very concerned about the deceased’s young son, shall we go to the charity hall quietly to check on him and bring him some treats?

All these past moments flooded her mind. Those persistent reminders she had once found trivial and bothersome, those minute details she had thought meaningless, now facing him again and remembering them all, filled her with sadness.

He asked her softly: “About Qi Teng’s death yesterday, have you found any clues?”

Such familiar words, just like all the previous cases, when he would casually ask that one question.

Huang Zixia lowered her eyes, deliberately avoiding his expression: “We don’t know yet. On the surface, he seemed to be someone with no reason to die—he was kind to others, and as the Military Commissioner’s Judge, he appeared to have good relationships with everyone—”

Yu Xuan frowned absently, casually echoing her words: “Yes… who would kill him?”

“Yes, on the surface, everyone seemed to get along well with him, but in reality who knows—perhaps many people had reasons to kill him, just not yet revealed.” Huang Zixia said, raising her eyes to look at him, speaking slowly and very softly, “For instance, dissatisfaction with his marriage, perhaps someone didn’t want Miss Zhou to marry him; or perhaps he blocked someone’s career path, becoming an obstacle to another’s advancement. Or maybe… he had done something to wrong others before, such as publicly humiliating someone at some point.”

Yu Xuan’s face suddenly turned pale, and he stared at her with widened eyes in disbelief. After a long while, he gave a bitter smile and asked: “You saw?”

“Yes… I happened to be nearby at the time,” Huang Zixia said softly.

Yu Xuan gazed at her for a long time, then asked: “So, you suspect I’m the killer?”

“The truth isn’t yet clear, you could be the killer, or Zhou Ziqin, or Zhang Xingying, even I could be… everything is still uncertain.”

Yu Xuan studied her expression, trying to discern something about himself in it, but there was nothing. Her expression was bland, showing no unusual signs.

He sighed softly and said: “Yes, yesterday morning, he said those things to me, I’m not entirely clear, but I feel they must have been matters of great importance to me. I had planned to ask him about these matters concerning me after the banquet, but who would have thought he would suddenly… die during the song and dance performance.”

Huang Zixia watched his profile, seeing his gloomy expression, that incomparably handsome face covered with a layer of melancholy, which couldn’t help but move her heart. She thought, perhaps for him, Qi Teng’s death also had a great impact.

Huang Zixia sighed softly and asked: “After my parents died, why did you attempt suicide?”

Yu Xuan’s face turned pale, grief faintly visible in his features. He turned his head away from her, saying hoarsely: “It had nothing to do with you… I just wanted to follow my adoptive parents.”

Huang Zixia nodded slightly and asked: “I heard that after your suicide attempt, it was Qi Teng who saved you?”

“Yes…”

“So he was your life-saving benefactor, yet you know nothing about your savior?”

Yu Xuan said flatly: “It was just a coincidence. He saved my life, but my heart was already dead, with no wish to live on, so his act doesn’t count as a favor to me.”

His expression was distant and cold, seemingly truly unconcerned about Qi Teng. Huang Zixia sighed and said: “If you can’t remember, that’s fine… anyway, I will investigate everything thoroughly, present irrefutable evidence before everyone, and let all know who killed my parents.”

Yu Xuan gazed at her intently and said softly: “Have you investigated that second letter?”

Huang Zixia lowered her eyelashes, avoiding the question, only standing up to say: “I never wrote such a letter, that’s certain.”

Seeing her unwilling to answer directly, his voice finally turned cold: “Huang Zixia, you still haven’t cleared your suspicions, yet you keep investigating other unrelated cases. I can’t help but doubt whether your conclusions will be correct…”

Hearing his questioning, Huang Zixia’s voice involuntarily became sharp: “You suspect I’ve returned to use the investigation as an excuse to find an innocent scapegoat, allowing myself to escape punishment?”

He shook his head, fell into a daze for a while, then said: “You know that’s not what I meant. I just… just worry that you might have a past you’re not clear about yourself, choosing to avoid it for various reasons…”

“Our memories don’t match, which has made me think a lot too. I think perhaps the real killer is between you and me. Something must have happened during that period where our memories don’t align,” she said, turning her gaze to him.

In the dense forest by Clear Creek, under the shadows of sunlight, she saw his thin figure and that intimately familiar refined face, with those clear eyes she hadn’t seen for so long. This person before her had ruthlessly severed their past connection, even using the love letter she had written as evidence to present to her enemies—so now as he gazed at her, though still that refined youth from before, he was clearly separated from her by an insurmountable distance, and they could never join hands again.

Before her eyes suddenly appeared the scene from yesterday under the flickering candlelight, when she had spoken those words to Li Shubai.

She was still amazed at why she had, at that moment, listened to the emotions stirring in her chest and held his hand.

And when he turned his palm to grasp her hand, what had he been feeling?

She shook her head, trying to throw everything away, but heard Yu Xuan’s voice: “That period where our memories don’t match, I always feel… it must be very important.”

As he spoke, he raised his hand to press his temple, and Huang Zixia saw the veins pulsing faintly on the back of his hand.

He placed such importance on this case, while simultaneously being so afraid of the answer.

Like her, they both vaguely knew in their hearts that these irregularities around them would cause either him or her to be shattered to pieces, unable to face those waiting below ground even after death.

But who exactly was that person? Between them, one had gone wrong, but was it him, or was it her?

Huang Zixia heaved a long sigh and turned away: “I’m leaving… take care of yourself.”

Seeing her turn to leave immediately, in his urgency, he reached out and grabbed her wrist, calling softly: “Axia…”

His hand was ice cold and trembling slightly, cold sweat dampening her fingers.

Huang Zixia turned back to look at him, shaking her head as she slowly withdrew her hand, saying softly: “Yu Xuan, everything will eventually have an outcome.”

“Then, in the end, will your outcome still be to be with Wang Yun?” He gritted his teeth, falling silent for a moment before suddenly asking this seemingly unrelated question.

Huang Zixia turned back in surprise, looking at him in bewilderment.

He withdrew his hand, standing quietly in the shade of the trees, gazing at her for a long time before saying softly: “At this point, I have no right to say anything to you. But… last night, I followed you out of the Governor’s mansion, and then saw…”

What did he see? Did he see her riding alongside Wang Yun? Did he see her mounting Wang Yun’s horse to ride with him? Did he see her holding Wang Yun’s waist at that time?

But he certainly hadn’t seen her holding a knife to Wang Yun.

However, Huang Zixia only smiled self-mockingly and said: “Sometimes, what the eyes see isn’t necessarily the truth.”

She didn’t explain, nor did she say anything more. She mounted Brush Sand’s back, and the sound of hoofbeats gradually faded away.

The long wind circled back, the blue sky vast and boundless, leaving him alone in the wind, clearly seeing her departing figure, never looking back.