Dong Chengfeng retrieved the qin from the corner and placed it beside him. His large hand stroked it, barely suppressing the roiling emotions in his heart.

“You, you continue!”

“Zhu Xuanjiu’s heart demon was a blood moon. I spent three full months investigating step by step and discovered Zhu Xuanjiu had participated in the Former Crown Prince’s Witchcraft Case.”

“Zheng—”

The seven-stringed qin wrapped in black cloth emitted a dull sound, making Yan Sanhe’s heart also jump.

Looking at Dong Chengfeng’s expression again—it was as if a stone had fallen from the sky and landed square on his forehead.

After quite a while, he finally found his voice. “Just a pawn.”

The strategist’s mind was sharp—he immediately grasped the essence of the matter.

“Originally I thought this heart demon could be resolved there, but who would have imagined things were far more complex than I’d thought.”

Yan Sanhe paused silently, then continued:

“Along with the blood moon appearing in Zhu Xuanjiu’s heart demon was a flock of crows. Later I discovered the ones truly harboring a heart demon weren’t Zhu Xuanjiu, but those crows.”

Dong Chengfeng’s hand on the qin strings tensed again, veins bulging.

“How could crows have a heart demon?”

“Good question!”

Yan Sanhe’s voice lowered.

“Actually, those crows were the wronged spirits who died unjustly in the Crown Prince’s Witchcraft Case. They were using Zhu Xuanjiu’s heart demon to resolve their own.”

“What, what is their heart demon?”

“To make the truth of the Witchcraft Case known to the world!”

“Zheng—”

Another qin note, muffled, emerged.

Dong Chengfeng stared fixedly at Yan Sanhe. His eye sockets were already deep-set, his gaze dark and heavy—difficult for people to meet.

But at this moment, what was about to burst from his eyes wasn’t shock or incredulity, but a kind of “so that’s how it is” delight.

“Dong Chengfeng, this is the true purpose for which I used every means, racked my brains, and risked death nine times out of ten to abduct you.”

Yan Sanhe picked up her own jade pendant.

“This jade pendant isn’t mine—it was given to me by the Former Crown Prince’s fellow disciple Tang Jianxi. Because of the heart demon, I found him.”

“Ha ha ha ha ha…”

Dong Chengfeng burst into laughter once more.

He laughed until wrinkles bunched at the corners of his eyes, tears slowly flowing down. When they entered his mouth, they weren’t bitter.

They were sweet.

Zhao Rongyu, are you crying out for justice in this manner?

You’re truly capable!

Yan Sanhe watched him laugh, but her heart sank. There was no laughter in this laugh—more sorrow.

What was he sad about?

Sad for whom?

For Zhao Rongyu, or for himself?

After a long while, Dong Chengfeng stopped laughing. He reached up to unbutton several buttons at his collar, rolled up his sleeves, and slapped the small table with resounding bangs.

“Is there wine in this carriage?”

“No.”

“Yes!”

Xue Zhao tossed in a leather bag.

Dong Chengfeng picked it up, unscrewed the cap, gulped down two mouthfuls, wiped his mouth, and cursed: “Damn, that’s strong. Satisfying!”

Yan Sanhe was completely stunned.

Was this person completely shedding his crafty strategist’s skin and donning his original uninhibited self again?

“I’m not usually talkative. Only when I’ve drunk do I say a few more words.”

Dong Chengfeng looked thoroughly dissolute. “It’s been six years since I last drank.”

Yan Sanhe immediately caught the subtext: “You came to Prince Han’s side six years ago?”

Yes, unknowingly it had been six years.

Dong Chengfeng raised his eyebrows nonchalantly, bypassing this heavy topic.

“Little girl’s quite clever. Your parents must also be intelligent people.”

Why did this sound somewhat improper for his age?

Yan Sanhe deliberately put on a stern expression, tapping the small table with her finger. “You’ve had wine now. Time for you to tell your story.”

Dong Chengfeng was quite straightforward. “Speak then, girl. What do you want to hear?”

“I want to hear your background. How you met the Former Crown Prince. Why you became a qin master at his residence.

What you saw and heard during your years at the Former Crown Prince’s residence. How you later left. Also…”

Yan Sanhe met his gaze.

“Who at the Former Crown Prince’s residence was actually Prince Zhao’s spy? Was it the skillful Concubine Xia? And what role did Shen Duruo play in all this?”

“You even know about Shen Duruo?”

Dong Chengfeng’s face showed disbelief. “How much do you know?”

“Not very much.”

Yan Sanhe: “I know her medical skills were excellent. That she was schemed against by her father and entered the Crown Prince’s residence as a female physician. And that she was the only person who survived after the Witchcraft Case.”

Girl!

You shouldn’t know any of this.

Dong Chengfeng’s slowly lowering gaze concealed tears about to burst from his eyes.

What you most need to know is: who is your father? Who is your mother?

And.

Who are you?

Yan Sanhe keenly noticed Dong Chengfeng’s aura had changed again.

From his eyes to his expression, even every strand of hair silently exuded an emotion called “tragic sorrow.”

This made him seem less oppressive overall, with a rare fragility.

She didn’t press him further, but waited quietly.

“My background is simple.”

Dong Chengfeng finally raised his head, speaking calmly. “Western Region, Qiang tribe. My parents had eight sons. I ranked sixth.”

One year his master traveled to their hometown and suddenly conceived the notion of buying a son to care for him in his old age.

Over a hundred children crowded together. Master had them all extend their hands. After looking around once, he chose him.

He had the longest fingers among all those children.

Master traded his parents four ewes, one cow—five livestock for him. Master often said: You boy were worth good money.

“How old were you then?”

“Seven. Didn’t even have my own pair of pants—wore hand-me-downs from my older brothers. In summer I just went bare-bottomed. Over ten people in the family, poor as could be.”

Dong Chengfeng smiled. “No one was reluctant to let me go. Only my mother shed a few tears when seeing me off.”

“What about you? Were you reluctant to leave your family?”

“Reluctant my ass!”

Dong Chengfeng: “My master clearly had money—his hands were whiter and more delicate than women’s faces in our parts.

Ewes birth lambs, cows birth calves. With these five animals added, the young could eat their fill, the grown could marry wives. How worthwhile.

Besides, Master bought me to care for him in old age. Wouldn’t he have to treat me extra well? Otherwise when he got old and couldn’t move in bed, wouldn’t he worry I’d do something?”

Hearing this, Yan Sanhe finally understood where this person’s wildness came from—birth parents, upbringing—these were things carved into one’s bones.

“Did he treat you well?”

“Well my ass!”

Dong Chengfeng gulped down more wine. “Every day he made me practice qin. Play one wrong note and the whip would come down…”

Not on the hands, not on the face—on the back.

Before old wounds healed, new ones appeared. For those years his back never had a patch of uninjured flesh. He could only sleep on his stomach.

“In the most bitter times I thought I’d run away. He couldn’t catch me anyway.”

“Did you run?”

“Before I ran, he drove me away. Said I was unworkable clay, unworthy of being his disciple. Told me to get as far away as possible and not shorten his life.”

“Was it a motivational tactic?”

“No, I truly wasn’t making progress.”

Dong Chengfeng smiled lightly at this point.

“Children raised on grasslands only know how to run and jump wild all day, more spirited than dogs and horses. How could I sit still? Not even for a moment.”

But where could he go after leaving Master?