“It’s you…”

Jiang Xianming immediately recalled that on that night at his home, the person who spoke to him through the window screen was this very person—who had given him Du Cong’s ledger.

“Why do you say such things, sir?” Jiang Xianming braced one hand on the rainy ground, struggling to stand. “When did I deceive you?”

“You said that on Lantern Festival night you followed Manyu Money House’s manager Hu Li into the tile-roofed house.”

“Correct.”

Jiang Xianming nodded.

“What about after you went in?”

“There were too many people in the tile-roofed house. I lost him.” Jiang Xianming’s official robes were soaked through. Water droplets slid down from his hat brim over his nose.

“What time did you enter the tile-roofed house?” Xu Hexue asked.

“The hour of the dog.”

Between the rain curtain, Jiang Xianming stared at the mysterious young man before him. “It’s because you saved me that I’m telling you these things. Anything more is not your affair to inquire about.”

“Mm, that’s enough.” Xu Hexue raised his sword and pressed it against Jiang Xianming’s robe front. “You went at the hour of the dog and left at the hour of the pig. During that time, what did you do in the tile-roofed house? Look for Hu Li? If you were looking for someone, why didn’t Censor Jiang even go upstairs? I was also at the tile-roofed house then, but I don’t know when you went upstairs.”

At these words, Jiang Xianming’s expression changed slightly. He looked at the person before him: “Who exactly are you? What do you want to do?”

In fact, Xu Hexue hadn’t seen Jiang Xianming at all in the tile-roofed house from beginning to end. It was Ni Su who had seen Jiang Xianming with her own eyes when she took Military Commissioner Miao to hide and change clothes, and helped him and Military Commissioner Miao leave the tile-roofed house.

This bluff indeed elicited some reaction from Jiang Xianming.

Rainwater dripped from the sword blade, making crisp sounds. Beneath the veil, Xu Hexue’s bloodless lips curved slightly: “Don’t be nervous. If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t have given you Du Cong’s ledger. I just want to know whether I should have saved you tonight.”

“I’m still investigating Du Cong’s matter. Since you gave me the ledger, you trust that I can investigate this thoroughly.” Jiang Xianming paused. He looked at this person’s soaked veil, unable to guess what kind of face was concealed beneath. “You care so much about this matter—I think you must have some grievance with Du Cong or those above him.”

Xu Hexue said flatly, “Censor Jiang, what I want to hear is whether Hu Li’s secret ledger is in your possession or not.”

“What secret ledger?”

Jiang Xianming remained fairly composed.

Xu Hexue said nothing but wiped the blood remaining on his sword blade bit by bit on Jiang Xianming’s vermilion official robes until it was clean. The color of blood on his garment showed not the slightest trace of filth. “Both wear these official robes—some are clean, some are filthy. Which kind does Censor Jiang consider himself?”

“I’ll ask you one more time—is Hu Li’s secret ledger in your hands or not?”

“Your identity is unclear, sir. Why should I trust you?”

Jiang Xianming lowered his eyes to look at the sword.

“Censor Jiang, please trust him.”

From the pitch-black alley entrance, a clear female voice fell.

Jiang Xianming and Xu Hexue turned around almost simultaneously, seeing a veiled woman holding a glass lamp emerge step by step from the shadows. Under the dim yellow lamplight, she held an umbrella. Rain fell like scattered pearls along the umbrella’s edge.

“You…”

Xu Hexue shook his head at her. He hoped she would turn around, hoped she would walk back into that patch of pitch-black shadow, not come over, not approach.

But every step she took was decisive. She was soon at his side, supporting his arm, becoming the support for his broken, diseased frame.

“And who are you?”

Jiang Xianming scrutinized this woman who had likewise concealed her features.

“Why must Censor Jiang fixate on our names? You are the upright official known to all in Yun Jing. When war broke out with the barbarians years ago, who doesn’t know how you put life and death aside, volunteering to travel far to the border to serve as Prefect of Yongzhou?”

Ni Su bowed her head to him. “We have a grievance. The crux of this grievance lies with Du Cong and also with those above Du Cong. We trust you, which is why we gave you Du Cong’s ledger. If not for investigating the matter of the white jade horse trampling on a flying swallow, you wouldn’t have encountered this calamity tonight. How many are implicated in Du Cong’s matter—it cannot be thoroughly investigated by your strength alone. Since Censor Jiang’s purpose aligns with ours, why can’t we be in the same boat?”

“What kind of grievance is this grievance the young lady speaks of?” Jiang Xianming stared at her.

Ni Su thought for a moment and raised her head. “One that makes the person beside me covered in wounds, that makes him unable to see his teachers and friends though he has them, unable to enjoy his years though he has them, unable to clear his old injustice though he bears it… Can this count as an answer?”

The red on his soaked robe front stained the veil’s light gauze. Xu Hexue looked at her. The finger joints she gripped curled slightly. He heard the rustling sound of rain. Beneath these garments, all over his body were the punishments he had suffered on Yongzhou’s execution platform in life—a damaged body, covered in blood and filth.

“Is it truly… so?”

Jiang Xianming looked toward Xu Hexue. He scrutinized this young man once more seriously, but with his features concealed, he truly couldn’t make anything out.

Without reason, his gaze fell, and he saw the red mole on the back of that person’s hand again.

Jiang Xianming felt a sense of familiarity but didn’t know where this familiarity came from.

Xu Hexue barely recovered his composure. His voice gained a trace of subtle hoarseness. “From Lantern Festival night until now, Censor Jiang, you’ve never memorialized this matter. Could it be that the people in that secret ledger are also unnamed?”

These words immediately struck at Jiang Xianming’s thoughts. His expression froze. His heart couldn’t help but tense. This person saw through everything like a blazing fire. Unknowingly, he had been rendered unable to refute anymore, unable to say that secret ledger wasn’t in his possession.

Jiang Xianming looked at this man and woman supporting each other before him, illuminated by two glass lamps together. He wiped the rainwater from his face. “Though unnamed, I’ve actually investigated most of these people during this time. I have their names and official positions. But having just these people isn’t enough. Between them and the person above Du Cong, besides Wu Dai, the rest are complete shadows.”

He spoke and sighed. “It’s precisely because I wanted to investigate further up that I’ve kept it hidden and haven’t memorialized His Majesty.”

“If it’s convenient, please lend me that secret ledger to examine, Censor Jiang.”

As Xu Hexue’s words fell, seeing Jiang Xianming’s hesitant expression, his sword blade moved down to rest at Jiang Xianming’s robe clasp. “Of course, you can also refuse to lend it.”

“…”

Jiang Xianming pulled out the ledger from his robe front with a stiff face.

“I did indeed see Hu Li at the tile-roofed house. He was meeting someone in a room. I watched from outside. Suddenly he rushed out—he was actually injured. He ran into the crowd to find me. Only then did I know he’d discovered long ago that I was following him. This secret ledger was what he hastily gave me. I guess that after Du Cong’s matter came out, someone wanted to silence witnesses and destroy the ledger, just in case.”

Jiang Xianming ultimately revealed everything he’d been hiding. He watched the young man under that woman’s umbrella flipping through the ledger. His sleeve was blood-red. As he turned pages, on his pale wrist bone seemed to be some wound hidden in the gap at the sleeve’s edge. He couldn’t see clearly, but remembering what the woman beside him had said earlier, he said: “If you have a grievance, sir, I, Jiang Xianming, will certainly clear it and vindicate you.”

Hearing this, Xu Hexue paused in his page-turning. He didn’t raise his eyes. His voice was calm: “Thank you.”

The empty alley where the attack occurred was not far from the Jiang residence. After Jiang Xianming showed Xu Hexue the ledger, he saw his household’s old servant bringing people out to search for him. Hastily stuffing the ledger back into his chest, Jiang Xianming was helped back by the old servant.

Ni Su supported Xu Hexue step by step forward. His steps were very slow, so she also walked very slowly. Sensing his difficulty, she simply wrapped both arms around his waist.

Beneath his robes, the wounds on his waist and abdomen were pressed more painfully by her encircling arms. Xu Hexue’s steps faltered. He lowered his eyes. She had already removed her veil. Her fair face was covered with rain dew. His throat moved slightly. “Ni Su, don’t…”

Don’t hold me like this.

Ni Su was about to speak when she felt his form suddenly grow faint, transforming into white mist. Her gaze lowered to see that pale, thread-like mist gently clinging to her sleeve.

In this place, only she remained alone.

Two glass lamps in her hands lightly collided. The candle flames inside swayed, lengthening her solitary shadow.

But the pale luminous glow was beside her—such a faint cluster, as if it might disperse into the rainy ground at any moment.

Ni Su silently carried the lamps forward. That luminous white light always remained side by side with her shadow.

The spring rain poured. Tonight there was no moon. Several lamps burned inside the medical hall on South Sophora Street. The warm yellow light and shadow were gathered between the square eaves and tiles. Ni Su boiled willow leaf water, pushed open the door and entered. In this room, white candles were lit almost everywhere. In the swaying firelight, she walked behind the screen and placed the basin on the wooden stool beside the bed.

The sound of her wringing the cloth startled the person on the bed. His slender eyelashes trembled as he opened his eyes in confusion.

As soon as Ni Su grasped his hand, he instinctively tried to pull away. She immediately gripped his finger joints tightly, drawing his crystalline eyes to look at her.

“Are you blaming me?”

Ni Su used the warm cloth to wipe the blood stains from his finger joints.

“No.”

Xu Hexue’s voice carried weak hoarseness. His form was faint as mist. “It’s just that Ni Su, tonight we clearly agreed you would wait for me at the alley entrance.”

“Mm, I did promise you.”

Ni Su nodded. Under the lamplight she looked at his hands—slender and beautiful, with sinews and bones possessing a bamboo-like flexible beauty. “But I saw your back there. You were alone. I thought then that I should walk to your side.”

“I forgot to listen to you. I’m sorry, Xu Ziling.”

She apologized so sincerely.

Xu Hexue could feel the warm cloth from her hand wrapping around his fingers. Such gentle wiping—nearly every stroke made his heart tremble. He couldn’t help but gaze at her. “Why?”

Why must she walk to his side? Why say those things to Jiang Xianming?

Yongzhou’s execution platform had long since destroyed his past. His life in Yun Jing, his teacher’s instruction, his elder brother and sister-in-law’s care, all manner of wanton and unrestrained amusements, the brush he’d held, the poetry and policy essays he’d written—all turned to dust. The people of this mortal world only remembered his hateful appearance, remembered he had family but no country.

He should be alone.

But she insisted on walking to his side, forming a “we” with him.

“When I sought justice and endured punishment, you were by my side. Whether it’s the people of this world or you, a ghost from the Netherworld, I think we’re equally averse to loneliness.” Ni Su didn’t dare wipe the wounds on his arms—such a blood-red expanse, the flesh seeming to have been scraped raw. Her eyes grew slightly hot. “Xu Ziling, your wounds—they hurt so much just to look at, but I have no way to make you hurt less…”

“There is.”

Xu Hexue said softly.

“What?”

Ni Su looked up at once.

But Xu Hexue pressed his pale-colored lips together, suddenly realizing he’d misspoken. He couldn’t possibly speak such difficult words. After a moment, he called: “Ni Su.”

“Mm?”

Ni Su placed the cloth back in the basin to wring it, then leaned down to wipe his face.

Xu Hexue was about to speak when her sudden action interrupted him. He was almost rigid, bewildered, receiving her ministrations.

She was so close.

Xu Hexue saw her eyes were a bit red.

“What did you want to say?”

Unable to wait for him to speak, Ni Su asked aloud.

But the motion of her hands hadn’t stopped.

Xu Hexue was like a puppet under her control, obediently letting her wipe his face. Her fingers touched his nose tip, her fingertip even rubbing it once.

A slight tickling sensation that burrowed into one’s heart.

Xu Hexue was at a loss, grasping her wrist at once, yet using no force at all.

“You have blood scabs here.”

Ni Su easily freed her hand, saying quietly, “I need to wipe you clean.”

The heart in her chest was actually not calm at all.

Just looking at his hands, his eyes, his face—she had to hold her breath.

Rain rustled outside the eaves. For an instant, Xu Hexue felt that being wiped clean by her, he truly could become very clean, could be like a living person, rather than a formless mass of bloody mist.

“Ni Su, is there something you want? I… want to give it to you.”

Whatever it was, he wanted to give it to her.

To thank her for her kindness, her goodness, to thank her for standing by his side tonight, feeling indignant on his behalf.