“Chou Yu, Ding Gou, help me search his body and see if there are any tokens or such. I’m not afraid of staring at him, but having me reach out myself really requires more time to get used to. Sorry to dirty your hands.” Mo Zi said apologetically.
Ding Gou looked at her. This woman could win everyone’s wholehearted devotion not solely by her shipbuilding and sailing skills, but also by that frankness. To those she trusted, she never concealed her shortcomings. Though he’d never pledged his life to anyone before, he’d seen quite a few capable people of high position and great ability. Even his fallen father and mother still maintained a lofty pride toward commoners. Only Mo Zi was different. Whether her birth father or adopted father, their wealth and power combined were enough to make her comparable to a princess. Yet she didn’t show even a trace of being a pampered young lady. And most admirably, from nobles and ministers down to peddlers and laborers, she treated all equally. It wasn’t hypocritical compassion for all or performing good deeds to accumulate virtue—it was completely genuine character without the slightest pretense.
Chou Yu had once said their three brothers were ready to risk their lives for Mo Zi at any moment. And in his view, Mo Zi could also risk her life for them—that grand battle killing Yu Zhong was just to avenge their fathers. If it were him, he’d also follow her to the death with sworn loyalty.
As Ding Gou thought to this point, he raised his eyebrows. When had he started integrating himself into this circle, able to feel at ease even without cultivating in the mountains? She flew high, as if bringing them along to soar into a vast world together.
Seeing Ding Gou spacing out, Chou Yu kicked toward his backside. “Get to work, old brother.”
How could Ding Gou let him kick him? His lightness skill flashed, and instead he appeared behind Chou Yu, pretending to grab his neck.
Mo Zi smiled and said, “Play if you want, but be careful of these spiked balls all over the floor—getting pricked will really hurt. Also, when searching the body, be careful not to injure yourselves.”
Only then did the two attend to proper business.
Huayi came up and said to Mo Zi, “The master requests the young lady come over.” Glancing at the scene inside the room, he couldn’t help but freeze. He considered himself experienced in handling chaotic scenes, yet he’d never seen such a situation. Almost nothing remained intact, including the assassin.
“I understand.” Mo Zi had just agreed when Chou Yu called her.
Mo Zi turned to look and saw him holding a sachet in his hand. Though stained with blood, one could still make out the embroidered pattern of intertwined flowers.
“Men rarely buy such sachets for themselves—most likely it was sent by a woman.” Ding Gou said.
“There’s something else inside.” Chou Yu moved quickly, taking out a slip of paper and handing it to Mo Zi.
Mo Zi opened it to look. “It’s actually a great fortune divination slip.”
“A protective charm, I suppose. Too bad for those who do many injustices—Heaven won’t protect them.” Chou Yu flipped the corpse over. “Wow, a large patch of bare skin from his back to his buttocks—quite fair and clean. Why do all young ladies like pretty boys? Though I’m dark-skinned, at least I have good character.”
Ding Gou exposed his faults. “You have good character? A few years ago you were still a local tyrant.”
“Damn it, didn’t I reform myself?” Chou Yu flared up, speaking without thinking.
Ding Gou laughed heartily, slapping his thigh. “Right, right, you reformed yourself. Which brothel were you at? Maybe this grandfather even visited.”
Mo Zi turned away to avoid the indecent sight, her whole body trembling with laughter. Reformed? Chou Yu was too hilarious.
“Zan Jin, if there are no other discoveries, wrap him in a quilt and take him down, so as not to frighten the timid.” Her meaning was not to let people see the assassin’s death state—after all, this counted as a secret weapon.
Zan Jin already understood her thoughts and nodded.
Mo Zi went down to the lower cabin. Before entering the door, she heard a scream. Thus, upon seeing Yuan Cheng calm and collected, she said, “This ship shouldn’t be called Chi anymore—change it to Ghost Realm, how about it? Clearly we’re the victims, but those who don’t know might think we kill without blinking.”
Yuan Cheng didn’t respond to her teasing, instead saying to the old man squatting beside Tao Shan looking quite cheerful, “Senior, this is Miss Mo Zi. Ding Gou and Luo Ying now follow her.”
The old man stood up, straightened his worn clothes, rubbed his hands behind his back, clasped his fists, and grinned at Mo Zi. “I’m called Lei Ting.”
Mo Zi hastily clasped her fists. “Senior.”
The old man saw Mo Zi’s movements were clean and efficient, her speech not exaggerated, and said approvingly, “Worthy of being someone Little Yuan values—poised and dignified, not saying empty courtesies to this old man. I most detest those who come up saying they’ve long admired my great name when they’ve actually never heard of this old man’s name at all.”
Mo Zi then smiled. “Senior, to be honest, I was hesitating whether to say those four words.”
Lei Ting laughed loudly. “Little Yuan, this young lady is good. Hurry and marry her home as your wife.”
Yuan Cheng leisurely took a sip of tea. “Senior, people say good wives are hard to find. I didn’t believe it before, but now I know it’s truly difficult. She wants to take it slow, so I can only slowly accompany her.”
Mo Zi glared at him.
He smiled gently and said to her, “Senior is the sect master of Thunder Tremor Sect, and also Yi Dan’s master, Luo Ying and Ding Gou’s grand-master. He came to lend me assistance.”
Lei Ting waved his hands repeatedly. “I dare not say I came to assist—it’s Little Yuan who feeds my entire sect of disciples and grand-disciples. Otherwise Thunder Tremor Sect would have been gone long ago. The real sect master should be Little Yuan. I just hang a title.”
“Senior need not say this. With Senior’s martial skills, whatever gold, silver, and jewels you wanted would be within easy reach. Senior’s righteousness, and your disciples all hold chivalrous thoughts, adhering to the gentleman’s principle of obtaining wealth properly…” Yuan Cheng saw Mo Zi glare at him again. “Why is Miss Mo Zi angry this time?”
“Senior just said he can’t stand others saying empty courtesies, yet now someone’s mouth is full of courtesies. Shouldn’t he be beaten?” Mo Zi turned to smile at Lei Ting.
Lei Ting found Mo Zi truly interesting and grew even more delighted. “Though Little Yuan deserves beating, he’s been kind to this old man. Why doesn’t the girl teach him a lesson for me? However, I’m afraid someone would feel pain in the body but joy in the heart.”
Mo Zi coughed dryly. “Senior is clearly biased. Never mind. This one—” She gestured with her chin. “Also one of the assassins? Is he dead?”
“Should be a minor leader.” Yuan Cheng answered for Lei Ting. “Unconscious. I heard you caught a fish that slipped through the net upstairs?”
“He couldn’t withstand my small trial, and I only found this sachet. Inside is a divination slip—seems to be a protective charm.” She handed the sachet to Yuan Cheng. Based on her inability to hold onto precious things, she’d let him keep all the Water-Purifying Pearls, gold pearls, letters, and so on. No pressure at all now.
“Sent by a woman.” Men were particularly sensitive to such items.
“Ding Gou said the same. But so what if we know it’s from a woman? We can’t trace the assassin’s identity from this, can we?” Mo Zi furrowed her brows looking at the unconscious man. “Seems you haven’t made much progress here either.”
“Not necessarily.” Yuan Cheng stood to get paper and brush, then pointed at Mo Zi. “Please grind ink for me.”
Grinding ink was Mo Zi’s favorite task when serving as Qiu Sanniang’s maid. Effortless and elegant. Therefore, she was still quite skilled at it now.
Yuan Cheng wrote four characters: Little Mistress Fangyun.
Mo Zi didn’t understand.
“Little Mistress Fangyun should be that woman’s courtesy name.” Yuan Cheng pointed at the light red seal at the end of the divination slip. “This isn’t originally on the slip, but was stamped by the person who sent this sachet.”
Mo Zi had to admit that being native-born, he understood the culture better than her, a foreign immigrant. She’d thought it was a small seal stamped by the fortune interpreter and paid it no attention.
“But even if you know this woman’s courtesy name, what of it? This Little Mistress Fangyun surely isn’t someone you know.” As she finished this sentence, she saw Yuan Cheng’s ink-dark brows rise slightly, and quickly exclaimed, “You don’t actually know her, do you?”
“Socializing everywhere does have some benefits.” Between joking words, Yuan Cheng’s expression gradually grew serious. “Little Mistress Fangyun was originally a courtesan. After mastering exquisite dance skills, she caught Prince Li’s eye and he bought her into his mansion as a dancer. However, her name in the prince’s mansion might be better known—Ji Siyun. There’s a poem as proof: Looking at autumn moon over Ji Lake, longing for the whiteness of cloud river.”
“A dancer in Wu Chengwan’s mansion?” Mo Zi found it hard to believe. “But how do you know her courtesy name? You and Wu Chengwan are opposed, right? Could he still invite you as a guest to his home?”
“Opposition can also become conspiracy, direct lineage can also become friendly factions. I’ve been to the prince’s mansion and seen Ji Siyun. But I learned of her courtesy name from a painting at Yang Ling’s house with her inscribed poem. I asked Yang Ling if this Little Mistress Fangyun was also his romantic companion.” Yuan Cheng explained.
“Also? Yang Ling really has quite a few romantic companions.” Mo Zi interrupted him. Right, the first time she saw Yang Ling, he was also amid romantic pursuits. Though that young man was a gentleman, he seemed to fully embody the romantic nature of literati.
Yuan Cheng knew her protective sisterly thoughts and smiled inwardly. “Yang Ling denied it. He told me Little Mistress Fangyun was a name Ji Siyun commonly used when she was still a courtesan. She’s not only skilled at dance but also versed in poetry, writing an excellent hand. That’s all.”
Mo Zi snorted—directed at Yang Ling. “Even if Little Mistress Fangyun is Ji Siyun, we can’t necessarily confirm the assassin was sent by Wu Chengwan. Perhaps he’s Ji Siyun’s former lover, or perhaps her paramour she knows outside.” She wasn’t being unreasonable, just objectively analyzing various possibilities.
“This divination slip is a Tiger Year great fortune slip. The paper is still quite white, so it wouldn’t be from twelve years ago. Twelve years ago, Ji Siyun was just a girl. And household dancers generally aren’t allowed to leave the mansion alone—they always go out and return in groups. To deliver the slip into the other party’s hands, most likely they’re from the same mansion.” Yuan Cheng’s gaze was distant. “We still can’t confirm the assassin’s relationship with Prince Li, but it’s too much of a coincidence.”
“Coincidence?” Mo Zi sensed there was more to these words. “You have other discoveries—”
“Hey, stop playing dead. This old man’s eyes aren’t blind—I can see your ears moving.” Lei Ting kicked Tao Shan.
Tao Shan helplessly opened his eyes. His whole body was so numb and painful he didn’t even have the strength to bite his tongue and commit suicide.
Yuan Cheng then said, “Whether it is or isn’t, it seems this Brother Tao must tell us.”
Tao Shan squeezed out two words: “Dream on.”
“Dream on?” Yuan Cheng’s fingertips stroked the cup’s rim. “Slice your flesh off piece by piece, starting from the legs, letting you watch your leg bones gradually become white and exposed—wonder if you can endure the pain. Also, sprinkling sugar on the wounds and releasing ants—do you think they’ll treat your flesh as food and carry it away bit by bit?”
Tao Shan’s eyes shrank with fear, his jaw clenched tight.