Yun Xi was startled for a moment before stepping forward to help Luo Shu up. “Get up first. Whatever it is, let’s talk inside.”

Fang Furan had also come out from the manor, and together with Yun Xi, helped Luo Shu to her feet, saying, “Sister Shu, you arrived in the evening and have been waiting all this time. Where did you—”

She’d meant to ask Yun Xi where she’d been, but her gaze caught sight of Cheng Chang, and she immediately understood, offering him a bow. “Third Young Master.”

Yun Xi invited Luo Shu and the others into the manor together, called Zhao Wu over to give him a few brief instructions, then gestured toward A’Jiu and said to Fang Furan, “Sister-in-law, this is A’Jiu—the one I’ve told you about before.”

Fang Furan nodded slightly and said to A’Jiu with a smile, “Miss A’Jiu, please wait just a moment. I’ll have someone see to preparing the west wing of A’Ting’s courtyard for you right away.”

A’Jiu’s gaze settled on Fang Furan’s face. She looked to be unwell, her complexion pale, but her features were truly exquisite—her faintly furrowed brows like mist, her peach-blossom eyes holding what seemed like a pool of spring river water within them, glowing softly even in the darkness of night.

The year Yun Luo had first married Fang Furan, everyone across the grasslands had said that General Xuanwei’s wife possessed a beauty that could sink fish and bring down wild geese.

At the time, A’Jiu hadn’t quite believed it, thinking—no matter how beautiful, could she really be more beautiful than A’Ting?

Now, having truly seen Fang Furan for herself, she understood that there was always someone more beautiful still.

A’Jiu waved a hand dismissively and said breezily, “No need to trouble yourself, sister-in-law—I’ll just make do in A’Ting’s room for the night!”

Yun Xi agreed as well. “Sister-in-law, your illness hasn’t fully healed yet—you should rest early. A’Jiu and I used to share a bed all the time back on the grasslands.”

Hearing this, Fang Furan didn’t press the matter further. She reminded Yun Xi to look after Luo Shu properly, bowed to Cheng Chang, and led A’Jiu off toward Yun Xi’s own courtyard.

The Marquis Zhongyong’s manor had an informant working for the “Noble One.” Yun Xi knew this.

Once Fang Furan and the others had walked off into the distance, Yun Xi went to check the entrance of the main hall, made sure there was no one around, then closed the door, poured a cup of water for Luo Shu, and asked, “What do you need my help with?”

Luo Shu still looked flustered. She glanced at Cheng Chang, seated in the place of honor, took a sip of the water she was holding, and said to Yun Xi, “A’Ting, my father wants to marry me off—to the young master of the Fan household.”

Yun Xi paused. Master Fan was the Chancellor of the Imperial Academy, already seventy years of age. The Fan household’s “young master” was called “young” only because he was the youngest son—in truth, he was already past forty, old enough to be a grandfather.

This young Master Fan had accomplished nothing in his forty years, and rumor had it he harbored some rather filthy private tastes. Several of his concubines had mysteriously met untimely ends, and his one proper wife had always been in poor health, passing away a couple of years back. Now Luo Fuyou wanted to marry Luo Shu off to him—was it to make her this young Master Fan’s second wife?

“The moment I heard Father had arranged this match for me, I went and begged him, begged Mother too, but Mother could only cry, and Father told me it was no use pleading with anyone now—this was the wish of that ‘Noble One’ above, and he couldn’t protect me even if he wanted to. The betrothal gifts have already been accepted, and the formal engagement is coming soon—if it weren’t for the New Year holidays getting in the way, I’d likely already be married off to the Fan household before February. A’Ting, please, I beg you, help me. I don’t want to marry into the Fan household, marry a man like that—I’m afraid it would mean nothing but death for me.”

In an official household, daughters had always mattered less than sons. The Luo family had many daughters, and Luo Shu, being obedient and well-behaved in the past, had naturally been somewhat favored in Luo Fuyou’s eyes. But Luo Fuyou was a man who valued his official career above his own life and family—having already pledged his loyalty to the “Noble One,” he naturally wasn’t about to let a daughter stand in the way of his own rise to power.

Marrying Luo Shu off to such a degenerate pained Luo Fuyou, but he saw no other way. Looking at it another way, Luo Shu’s reputation was already ruined—whether she could marry at all in this life was uncertain—so managing to secure a match with the young master of the Imperial Academy Chancellor’s household already counted as good fortune.

As for what her life would be like after marrying in, Luo Fuyou preferred not to think about it, and refused to dwell on it further.

Hearing Luo Shu’s words, Cheng Chang wasn’t particularly surprised.

She had been used by the “Noble One” before, helping him set a trap to try to kill him. Now, even having been released from the Ministry of Justice’s prison, how could her life possibly go well from here?

That “Noble One” was ruthless and merciless—what did the life of one lowly woman matter to him? Better to silence her early and be done with it. Perhaps even the marriage to the Fan household was just a pretext—once the wedding ceremony was over, there was no telling whether she’d survive much longer after that.

After all, marrying a degenerate like that, dying young would hardly be unusual.

Yun Xi had already understood as much herself. She asked Luo Shu, “Actually, you didn’t come looking for me, did you? The person you really wanted to find was the Third Young Master.”

Luo Shu held her cup, and after a long moment, murmured a soft “Yes.”

She didn’t quite dare look at Cheng Chang—the memory of him interrogating her in the Ministry of Justice’s prison still filled her with fear. But the “Noble One” and the Third Young Master were at odds with each other, and now that the Noble One wanted her dead, if she wanted to survive, she had no choice but to steel herself and come find Cheng Chang.

Luo Shu took another sip of water, swallowing carefully, as if afraid that any sudden movement might displease Cheng Chang, and explained, “I couldn’t go directly to Prince Cong’s residence, so I thought—since you and the Third Young Master are close, A’Ting, perhaps you could pass along a word for me. I never expected… to run into the Third Young Master here tonight.”

She set down her cup, her hands resting on her knees opening and clenching, and after finally working up her resolve, walked quickly over to Cheng Chang and made to kneel before him. But Cheng Chang said flatly, “Why should I believe you?”

He had trusted her wrongly once before, and had already suffered harm for it.

Why should he trust her again this time?

Luo Shu said hurriedly, “I—I can tell the Third Young Master everything I know.”

“What do you know?” Cheng Chang asked. “Do you know how Yao Susu died?”

Luo Shu shook her head.

Cheng Chang said, “Same as you—she knew too much.”

Since the “Noble One” had been able to plant an “earring” in Yao Susu’s mouth to frame Luo Shu and have her imprisoned, it stood to reason he must have had something to do with Yao Susu’s death. Yao Susu, a woman without the strength to so much as fight back—what else could the “Noble One” have killed her for?

It didn’t take much thought—she must have seen something she shouldn’t have, or known something she shouldn’t have.

“Yao Susu was the daughter of the Privy Councilor, a cousin of the current Imperial Noble Consort—and he killed her without a second thought. So think carefully about what you could tell me that would make me believe you’re worth trusting,” Cheng Chang said.

In other words, he wanted real, valuable information.

Cheng Chang asked, “Do you know the truth behind the Marquis Zhongyong’s wrongful conviction?”

Luo Shu shook her head. “No.”

“Then there’s no point in this,” Cheng Chang said. “You may go.”

“But I—but I know the truth about how the late Crown Prince died!” Seeing that Cheng Chang was unwilling to help her, Luo Shu blurted it out in desperation, no longer caring whether she was breaking some taboo. “The late Crown Prince didn’t die of a sudden illness—he was… he was poisoned! Someone murdered him!”

At this, Cheng Chang’s brow furrowed. “Is that true?”

His tone softened slightly as he asked, “How do you know this?”

“That day I went to beg Father not to marry me off to the Fan household, I overheard him outside his study, talking with someone. In their conversation, they mentioned the late Crown Prince, and something about dying of poison. The other person also said they needed to silence those witnesses soon.”

Hearing this, Cheng Chang fell into thought.

According to what the scarred man Mao Jiu had indicated before he died, he’d been hunted by the “Noble One” because he’d learned some “enormous secret”—and this secret likely had something to do with the Marquis Zhongyong’s household.

The old Marquis Zhongyong’s death in battle, Zhaoyuan’s betrayal, and the late Crown Prince’s sudden death from illness that followed in its wake—Cheng Chang had been diligently investigating the Marquis Zhongyong’s case recently, and naturally he’d also looked into the cause of the late Crown Prince Cheng Yang’s death.

But the palace records concerning Cheng Yang contained nothing but flattering praise, ending with the simplest possible mention of “died of illness,” with nothing further to be found. And after Cheng Yang’s death, even the maids who had once served him in the Eastern Palace had vanished without a trace.

Some within the palace guessed that Emperor Zhaoyuan, in his overwhelming grief and rage, might have had them all put to death together.

Cheng Chang said, “By your account, if the late Crown Prince truly died of poisoning, wouldn’t His Majesty have investigated? Why would it be announced to the public as ‘death by illness’?”

“That I don’t know,” Luo Shu said. “But please believe me, Third Young Master, every word I’ve said is true. And I also heard that the witnesses who could prove the late Crown Prince was poisoned are now being held, held…” Luo Shu thought carefully. “Held at Mingyin Temple.”

Just then, a faint sound came from outside the room.

If one weren’t listening carefully, it might have been mistaken for the rustling of insects or mice in the courtyard.

But Yun Xi, having practiced martial arts for years, had exceptionally keen hearing—how could she fail to tell the difference?

She immediately signaled to Cheng Chang for silence, walked soundlessly to the door, and suddenly pulled it open.

Standing outside the door was, of all people, Fang Furan.

Yun Xi froze on the spot.

“Sister-in-law?” she called.

She opened her mouth, but no words would come.

They had been talking in the main hall for nearly an hour now. By rights, Fang Furan should have gone to bed long ago, and tomorrow morning she was supposed to see the physician at the apothecary. It was already well past midnight—if she still wasn’t asleep now, how would she manage to get up in the morning?

Fang Furan smiled gently at Yun Xi. “You came back so late, and it’s already past midnight—you should have something to eat. I slept enough during the day, so I couldn’t fall asleep just now, and thought I’d make you a small plate of snacks.”

As she spoke, she handed Yun Xi the blue-and-white porcelain plate she was holding, bowed toward Cheng Chang from outside the door, and said, “Please, Third Young Master, Sister Shu, have some too.” Then she turned and went back toward the rear courtyard.

Yun Xi watched Fang Furan’s retreating figure until she disappeared at the end of the corridor, and still stood rooted to the spot for a long moment after.

She had known the Marquis Zhongyong’s manor had an informant working within it.

The first time, when the boatman had turned himself in, Ke Yong had come to report it to her—Fang Furan had been right at the manor gate, on her way out to see the physician.

The second time, when there was activity in the woodshed where the “boatman” was being held, Tian Si had come to find her—that afternoon, only Fang Furan, Zhao Wu, and A’Ling had left the manor.

She had already grown suspicious of Fang Furan back then, only to hear by chance that both times Fang Furan had gone out to see the physician, Luo Shu had accompanied her—which was why her suspicion had shifted to Luo Shu instead.

But Cheng Chang had already told her, some days ago, that the informant within the Marquis Zhongyong’s manor wasn’t Luo Shu.

If it wasn’t Luo Shu, then who could it be?

A’Ling and Zhao Wu had both served the manor for many years—she didn’t want it to be either of them.

But even more than that, she didn’t want it to be Fang Furan.

Back when Yun Luo had passed away, she and Fang Furan had relied on each other to survive. If not for her sister-in-law’s companionship and care, how could she possibly have found her way out of the grief of losing both father and brother?

The night watchman’s clapper sounded in the distance—it was nearly one in the morning.

Seeing how late it had grown, Cheng Chang said to Luo Shu, “I understand the situation now.” With that, he rose to leave.

He said nothing about whether he would help her, but Luo Shu didn’t dare press further either. She saw him to the door of the main hall and murmured softly, “My thanks for your trouble, Third Young Master,” then turned and sat back down in the main hall, staring blankly ahead.

Yun Xi walked with Cheng Chang all the way to the manor gate. She felt a heavy sadness, a helplessness she couldn’t shake, and the dark suspicion weighing on her heart sank deeper and deeper, down into a bottomless abyss.

She knew that, given the Third Young Master’s sharp perception, he couldn’t possibly have failed to suspect who the informant was.

He probably already had a hundred ways to expose the informant, but he’d only refrained out of consideration for her feelings, never bringing up the matter of the informant in front of her, never pressing her to go find out.

But just because he didn’t bring it up didn’t mean she could pretend nothing was happening. Thinking it over carefully, if not for the Third Young Master’s sheer luck, that “Noble One” would already have taken his life twice over.

Sun Haiping and Zhang Dahu had brought the carriage around.

Yun Xi followed close behind Cheng Chang, not daring to look at him, her eyes lowered to the ground, and said softly, “Third Young Master, just now, my sister-in-law…”

“Tomorrow morning, we’ll go to Mingyin Temple together.”

Before she could finish, Cheng Chang cut her off.

Yun Xi, caught off guard by the interruption, took a moment to respond before asking, “Wasn’t Mingyin Temple sealed off long ago? Is it really that easy to get in?”

Cheng Chang gave a soft “Mm.” “I have a way.”

He gestured toward the manor gate. “It’s late. Go on inside.”

But Yun Xi shook her head and said quietly, “I’ll see you off.”

Seeing her insist, Cheng Chang said nothing more, turned, and climbed into the carriage.

The carriage rattled off down the bluestone lane. Cheng Chang sat in silence for a moment, then lifted the curtain to glance back—and found Yun Xi still standing there in the same spot.

The lantern at the manor gate swayed in the cold wind, casting her slender shadow long across the ground. She looked to be sad, her head bowed, standing utterly still for a long moment—seen from a distance, she looked lonely and forlorn.

Cheng Chang had the carriage stop, and walked back.

Yun Xi was still standing there in a daze at the manor gate, keeping her silent vigil for Cheng Chang, when unexpectedly, a tall figure returned and came to a stop before her.

Yun Xi looked up, startled. “Third Young Master?”

“There’s something I forgot to tell you,” Cheng Chang said with a faint smile. “Until the truth is clear, don’t rush to grieve.”

Yun Xi nodded, then after a moment, shook her head instead. “I’m not sad. I just…”

Just what?

She was afraid, worried—afraid that the informant really was her sister-in-law.

And she felt guilty too—afraid that it was her own family who was helping the “Noble One” bring harm to the Third Young Master.

“A’Ting.”

Cheng Chang suddenly called her name.

He had long wanted to call her that. He’d always heard others use it, and thought it sounded rather lovely.

“There’s one more thing I forgot to say too.” He reached out and ruffled her hair, his voice gentle. “I’m here for you. Always.”