The border regions.

Yunnan Prefecture.

Yan Sanhe knelt beside the coffin in mourning clothes, her grandfather lying inside.

Her grandfather had passed in his sleep, departing without illness or disaster.

Yan Sanhe felt no sorrow.

His life had been a chaotic mess that led to a dead end, but to exit so cleanly at the very end could be considered a blessing after hardship.

On the final night, Yan Sanhe dismissed the others to keep vigil alone in the mourning hall.

Tomorrow morning the coffin would be buried, and the karmic bond between their grandfather and granddaughter would reach its end in this lifetime. Still, she couldn’t bear to part.

Yan Sanhe tossed several sheets of white paper into the brazier.

In the dancing firelight, she heard a faint “crack.”

What was that sound?

Before she could process it, another “crack” sounded.

This time she heard it clearly—like something splitting open.

Yan Sanhe quickly scrambled up from the ground, grabbed the oil lamp, and walked to the coffin to shine light on it. In an instant, her insides burned with anguish.

The coffin wood that had just been sealed tightly now had a crack running through it.

That crack grew wider and wider, actually exposing half of her grandfather’s face.

Yan Sanhe’s eyes stung as tears slid down her cheeks.

According to legend—

When a dead person’s coffin lid won’t stay closed, it’s because they had lingering attachments in life, and over time, those attachments transform into demons.

If the heart-demon isn’t eliminated, there can be no peace in the grave.

“Grandfather.”

Yan Sanhe’s hand moved inch by inch over the cracked coffin wood as she murmured:

“What can’t you let go of?”

*******

The capital.

Hundred Medicines Hall.

The carriage stopped at the entrance. Yan Sanhe paid the fare and walked in carrying her umbrella.

A shop assistant called out, “What medicine does the young lady need?”

Yan Sanhe brushed off the rain droplets clinging to her clothes. “I need two qian of something colorless and tasteless that dissolves in water, something a person can drink and…”

“Please stop right there!”

The assistant pointed at the sign by the door. “This is a medicine shop—we save lives and cure illness, we don’t help people scheme and murder.”

“…drink without noticing—a tonic.”

The assistant froze, then quickly apologized with a smile: “Angelica root has a flavor; pearl powder is tasteless but doesn’t dissolve easily; the best option would be premium white ginseng—colorless and tasteless—though the price is rather steep.”

Yan Sanhe pulled ten taels of silver from her bundle. “Is this enough?”

“More than enough!”

The assistant accepted the silver, picked up a small scale, and turned to weigh out two qian of white ginseng from a drawer.

“Please have a seat, young lady. I’ll take this to the back room and have the master grind it fresh for you.”

Yan Sanhe nodded. Just as she was about to find a chair to sit in, she suddenly noticed another person in the medicine shop.

The person wore military attire, head tilted, one leg crossed over the other, half-sitting and half-leaning in a master’s chair in the corner, studying her with an almost investigative gaze.

Yan Sanhe frowned and sat down nearby.

That line of sight still clung to her with a somewhat persistent quality. Yan Sanhe coldly stared back.

The person showed not a hint of guilt as he shifted his gaze away.

Just then, voices drifted from behind the curtain.

“Have you heard? Master Ji from the east side of the city was dismissed from office the day before yesterday.”

“That Ji family’s luck is truly rotten. The old matriarch died before New Year’s, after New Year’s the grandson fell ill, the granddaughter’s engagement was broken off—it’s downright sinister.”

“Could they have been contaminated by something unclean?”

“Bah, bah, bah! Don’t talk nonsense…”

A barely perceptible hint of suspicion spread through Yan Sanhe’s eyes as she discreetly glanced toward the curtain.

Shortly after, the assistant emerged from behind the curtain with a small paper packet in hand.

“All ground up. Please keep it safe.”

Yan Sanhe walked over, tucked the paper packet into her clothing, and asked: “Excuse me, where is Xie Daozhi’s residence?”

“Who?”

The assistant suspected he’d misheard and couldn’t help asking again.

“Xie Daozhi.”

The assistant’s face remained impassive, but his heart churned with enormous waves, his thoughts containing only one sentence—

What relationship does this young lady have with the Xie family?

In all of the capital, there aren’t many people who dare directly address Master Xie by his personal name!

“Exit and turn left, pass through four alleys, then walk forward for another quarter hour and you’ll arrive. It’s not far.”

The voice from the master’s chair wasn’t loud or soft, tinged with a hint of amusement.

Yan Sanhe raised her eyes. When their gazes met, she responded expressionlessly with two words: “Many thanks.”

That person rubbed his nose tip and coughed without speaking.

Yan Sanhe turned to leave. At the doorway she stopped, hesitating for quite a while before finally opening her mouth.

“Tell the Ji family to dig open the grave and check whether the old matriarch’s coffin has cracked.”

The assistant’s legs went weak beneath him. He needed to urinate.

Looking up, the young lady’s figure had vanished—only a glimpse of ash-blue robe hem remained visible.

“Third Master, that young lady…”

“Interesting!”

The man addressed as Third Master lazily switched to crossing his other leg.

“Go find out everything about her—the more detailed, the better.”