“Good.”

Han Qing stood up, both hands braced on the desk. “Miss Ni, you must never forget these words you’ve said to our family today. Our family also dislikes giving up halfway—what we fear is that our family will exert effort at the front, while you get frightened to pieces at the back. That would not do.”

Ni Su had thought Han Qing was unwilling to continue presiding over this case after weighing the pros and cons, but she hadn’t expected that his speech was actually meant to test her.

Walking out of the Yinye Bureau, the mist outside had thinned considerably. Illuminated by sunlight, Ni Su felt somewhat dazed.

“Miss Ni doesn’t yet know their methods. Director Han is worried you won’t withstand the威pressure and inducement.” Wu Jikang was the Grand Preceptor’s son, the Emperor’s brother-in-law. How could Ni Su, a lone woman, possibly contend against such power?

If her resolve wasn’t firm, this case could only end perfunctorily. Then Han Qing, as Director of the Yinye Bureau, would have both offended Grand Preceptor Wu yet failed to bring his son Wu Jikang to justice—it would be difficult for him to maintain his position before the Emperor.

“I wrongly blamed Director Han.”

Ni Su lowered her eyes. “But now I’m all alone—there’s really nothing left to fear. That Director Han is still willing to handle my brother’s case is more important than anything.”

“Officer Zhou, please stay. I can return on my own.”

After bowing in courtesy to Zhou Ting, Ni Su turned and walked into the crowd.

Her steps were quick. Zhou Ting stood in place, watching her figure rapidly disappear into the flow of pedestrians. Chao Yisong sidled up: “Officer Zhou, she said not to escort her, so you’re really not going to?”

Zhou Ting glanced at him, one hand on his sword hilt, and silently turned to walk back into the Yinye Bureau.

The one who had ordered Medicine Woman Yang to give Ah Zhou’s mother an overdose of aconite and have Ah Zhou falsely accuse Ni Su, then later hired assassins to kill Medicine Woman Yang—this was the work of Grand Preceptor Wu’s son Wu Jikang’s page boy. This matter was now settled beyond doubt. Yinye Bureau Director Han Qing, relying on the Emperor’s edict, that very day dispatched Yinye Bureau personal guards to enter Grand Preceptor Wu’s mansion and escort Wu Jikang and his page boy back to the Yinye Bureau for questioning.

Once this matter came out, the court was in an uproar.

Grand Preceptor Wu had few descendants. Apart from Consort Wu in the palace, he only had Wu Jikang, a son born in his old age. Wu Jikang was indeed among the participants in this winter examination.

Wu Jikang spent five days in the Yinye Bureau. Grand Preceptor Wu, dragging his sick body, entered the palace daily. Not only did he fail to see the Emperor, he even fainted from kneeling at the Yongding Gate.

On the sixth day, the confession written in Wu Jikang’s own hand was sent by Han Qing to the Emperor’s desk, but the Emperor made no statement. Instead, he had the censors from the Remonstrance Court and scholars from the Hanlin Academy gather together to discuss Wu Jikang’s crimes.

“Master Meng, those old fellows nearly blew the roof off the Golden Hall, yet you haven’t said a word. His Majesty has glanced at you several times, but you keep pretending not to notice.”

Palace Secretary Pei Zhiyuan returned to the back hall of the Political Affairs Hall and first drank a large bowl of tea.

“Too early.”

Meng Yunxian leaned back in his folding chair. “Have they started quarreling yet?”

“Not yet.”

Pei Zhiyuan plopped down beside him.

“Then there you have it.” Meng Yunxian leisurely took a sip of tea. “If they haven’t started quarreling, the fire isn’t burning hot enough yet.”

“How do you mean?” Pei Zhiyuan laughed.

Meng Yunxian remained calm and composed. “Right now they’re all still just making a fuss over Ni Qinglan’s case itself, debating whether Wu Jikang’s crime should be determined and how to determine it. As long as they haven’t moved beyond the case itself, we shouldn’t rush—let Censor Jiang and the others be the ones to rush.”

——

When Ni Su learned of Wu Jikang’s confession, she was visiting the Miao Commander’s mansion to see Cai Chunxu and her husband. Miao Yiyang had entered the Yinye Bureau again and had been frightened sick once more upon emerging.

“That Wu Jikang is a madman.”

Miao Yiyang was wrapped in a quilt, leaning against Cai Chunxu like a cat. “When I came out that day I saw him, Miss Ni. He was still laughing, acting like nothing happened. That laugh was so ugly…”

“Ah Xi, don’t listen to his nonsense.”

Cai Chunxu looked at Ni Su with concern.

Ni Su’s hand holding the brush paused, then said, “This prescription is my father’s secret formula. If the young master takes one bowl in the evening, he shouldn’t have nightmares and convulsions at night.”

“Quickly have someone fetch the medicine.”

Hearing Ni Su’s explanation, Wang Shi recalled that last time another physician she’d consulted had also praised this young lady’s prescription. Her expression became somewhat awkward as she hastily called a maid to fetch the medicine.

Commander Miao wasn’t at the mansion—it was said he’d been angered by Du Cong. Commander Miao had thought Du Cong was helping him fish out his son because Du Cong was grateful that he’d once served as a colonel in his Huning Army. Who knew Du Cong was actually using his son Miao Yiyang as a cover-up.

Commander Miao, unable to swallow this anger, reported to the Emperor and personally led troops to search everywhere for Du Cong’s whereabouts.

“Ah Xi, why don’t you stay at our mansion for a few days? I’ve heard that gossip is spreading on South Sophora Street, and those neighbors… toward you…”

Cai Chunxu affectionately held Ni Su’s arm, hesitating.

“The clinic has been closed these past few days, so even if they want to find an excuse to cause trouble, they have no opportunity. Besides, there are still Yinye Bureau personal guards there—I have nothing to fear.”

The matter of Ah Zhou’s mother had been dredged up these past two days and spread around South Sophora Street. Though the Yinye Bureau had long since cleared Ni Su’s name, it still couldn’t stop some deliberate slander. Rumors even emerged that Ni Su had connections with Yinye Bureau Deputy Commander Zhou Ting, which was how she could emerge from the Yinye Bureau unscathed.

The purpose of those behind this wasn’t hard for Ni Su to guess.

They simply wanted to force Zhou Ting to distance himself from her, preferably removing the guards stationed outside her clinic, making it easier to move against her.

Cai Chunxu wanted to say many comforting words, but when the words reached her lips, looking at Ni Su’s increasingly gaunt face, she only said softly, “Ah Xi, don’t be sad…”

Hearing this, Ni Su smiled at Cai Chunxu and shook her head. “I’m not sad, Sister Cai. I’m just waiting for this day. Wu Jikang has confessed—he must pay the price.”

“No matter what, I will wait here. I want to watch him use his own life to repay the blood debt he owes my brother.”

Ni Su couldn’t forget.

Couldn’t forget how she had retrieved her brother’s corpse from the Yinye Bureau that day, couldn’t forget Zhou Ting telling her that her brother had been starved to death alive.

She couldn’t help but think about how much her brother must have suffered when he died.

Whenever she thought of this,

Ni Su would kneel before the altar, gazing at her mother’s and brother’s memorial tablets all through the night.

“I hope His Majesty issues the order soon and beheads that wretched man!”

Thinking of what her husband had just said—that Wu Jikang had laughed arrogantly in the Yinye Bureau without fear—Cai Chunxu couldn’t help but curse hatefully.

Leaving the Commander’s mansion, Ni Su’s steps were quite light. The brilliant autumn sunlight spread across the ground. She saw on the ground that ball of pale white shadow that had been by her side from beginning to end.

Returning to South Sophora Street, Ni Su saw several children gathered in front of her clinic throwing small stones as a game. As soon as she approached, they scattered like birds and beasts.

Many people’s gazes around her stopped on her, whispers never ceasing. She kept her eyes straight ahead, taking keys from her sleeve to open the door.

Hiding behind a shop sign across the way, a child’s eyes rolled, then he grinned and forcefully threw the stone in his hand.

Pale white light and shadow condensed like mist, instantly transforming into a young man’s tall form. With a raise of his hand, the stone that was about to strike Ni Su’s back changed direction.

The child couldn’t see him, but was struck squarely on the forehead by the returning stone.

With a “wah,” the child covered his head and burst into wailing tears.

Ni Su was startled and looked back. The child crying breathlessly under the shop sign seemed like a frightened bird and ran off in a flash.

“Could he have seen you?”

Ni Su, baffled, looked at the person beside her.

Xu Hexue only shook his head but said nothing.

The sky gradually darkened. Ni Su lit many lanterns under the covered corridor, illuminating the entire courtyard brightly. When Xu Hexue looked up from his room, he could see the window screen illuminated by bright light and shadow.

Separated by a wall, Xu Hexue couldn’t hear any sound from her room. Perhaps she had already gone to sleep. Would she sleep better tonight than usual?

She had waited so long—her brother’s case had finally seen a glimmer of hope. Had the great stone pressing on her heart finally been lifted?

Xu Hexue sat at the writing desk, gazing at the window screen, then suddenly lowered his eyes to look at the ledger on the desk.

“Xu Ziling.”

Suddenly, he heard the sound of the adjacent door opening, followed by her footsteps. Almost at the instant he heard her call his name, Xu Hexue looked up and saw her shadow.

“I can’t sleep.”

Ni Su stood outside his door. “Can I come in and stay for a while?”

“Come in.”

Xu Hexue said softly.

Hearing him say this, Ni Su immediately pushed open the door. The room was filled with bright candlelight. He sat upright in that patch of light and shadow, those eyes looking toward her.

“You’re still reading this?”

Ni Su discovered the ledger by his hand.

“Yes.”

“Have you found anything?”

Ni Su sat down beside him.

“Most of Du Sancai’s money flowed here…” Xu Hexue’s slender fingers stopped at one place in the ledger, but he didn’t expect her to suddenly lean in very close. A strand of long hair even lightly swept across the back of his hand. For a moment his fingers curled inward and he suddenly stopped.

“Manyu Money House.”

Ni Su read out those four characters.

Xu Hexue withdrew his hand and made a sound of agreement.

“Should we go to Manyu Money House to take a look?” Ni Su propped her chin on one hand.

“No need. This ledger—I want to give it to someone.”

Xu Hexue looked at her profile.

“Who?”

Ni Su’s gaze moved from the ledger to his face.

“Vice Censor-in-Chief Jiang Xianming.”

These past days, Xu Hexue had thought deeply. Though this ledger recorded most of Du Sancai’s monetary transactions, there were very few names on it—most were replaced with labels like “A, B, C, D.” By himself, having been away from the mortal world for so many years, Xu Hexue couldn’t truly figure out who these A, B, C, and D actually were. But if this ledger fell into Jiang Xianming’s hands, that person would absolutely have the ability to thoroughly investigate Du Sancai’s old accounts.

“But how can you be certain he’ll definitely investigate?”

Ni Su asked.

“He will.”

Xu Hexue’s lashes cast a faint shadow beneath his eyelids.

Why exactly Du Sancai had escaped punishment for delaying military supplies back then, and why he had sent money to these unnamed people day in and day out for fifteen years—as long as Jiang Xianming was willing to investigate, he would surely discover the truth within.

“Then why don’t we go right now?”

Ni Su suddenly stood up.

Xu Hexue raised his eyes to meet her gaze.

At this moment with the moon dark and wind high, it was indeed a good time. Ni Su wrapped herself in a cloak and held onto Xu Hexue’s waist, for the first time seeing Yunjing City’s night so directly.

Even without using his ghostly arts, he could use excellent lightness skills to evade the Yinye Bureau personal guards outside, taking her soundlessly across roof tiles, following the night.

The night wind blew his soft hair to brush against Ni Su’s cheeks. His embrace was as cold as ice. Ni Su looked up at his jaw, not daring to look down at the eaves below.

The Jiang mansion had a large locust tree with luxuriant branches and leaves. They perched on the roof tiles, their forms half-concealed by the dense foliage.

Jiang Xianming had sat in his study for a long time. His chamberlain came in several times to serve tea and carefully urged, “My lord, it’s late. You should rest.”

“The memorial isn’t finished yet—how can I rest?” Jiang Xianming used his hairpin to scratch his itchy scalp and heaved a long sigh.

“My lord, when have you not written with a swift brush? Why are you having difficulty this time?”

The chamberlain felt puzzled.

“It’s not difficulty—it’s that many people in court have received favors from Grand Preceptor Wu. When His Majesty has them discuss the sentencing, they all argue for light punishment. How can this be allowed? I must write this memorial carefully, lest His Majesty be deceived by their few words.”

Thinking of everything in court today, Jiang Xianming’s expression darkened somewhat.

His lower back was uncomfortable. He drank some tea and simply stood up, planning to go outside for some fresh air first.

As soon as the study door opened, Ni Su on the eaves could see. She tugged at Xu Hexue’s sleeve and whispered, “He’s come out.”

Two people emerged from the study—one slightly hunched, one standing straight. The straight one was moving his waist under the covered corridor. With one look, Ni Su guessed which was Censor Jiang.

“You can’t see clearly—let me.”

Ni Su said this and pulled the ledger from Xu Hexue’s hand. Seeing that the Censor hadn’t moved from the covered corridor, she forcefully threw the ledger out.

Xu Hexue held a lantern, but its light was weak and didn’t allow him to clearly see the situation below. He only heard the girl beside him suddenly gasp. He asked, “What’s wrong?”

“…I hit Censor Jiang on the head.”

Ni Su said sheepishly.

“Who’s there! Someone! Come quickly!”

Sure enough, below came an old man’s flustered voice. Ni Su looked and saw it was the hunched chamberlain. She crouched down and watched Censor Jiang bend to pick up the ledger. She urged Xu Hexue, “Quick, let’s go!”

The guards below couldn’t see the light of the lantern Xu Hexue held, much less know that people were hiding on the roof tiles. Xu Hexue wrapped his arm around Ni Su’s waist and, using the tree trunk, leaped up and flew away.

The two landed lightly in the back alley. Xu Hexue heard Ni Su sneeze and removed the cloak from his body to drape over her.

The heavy cloak was from burned cold-weather clothing and couldn’t make her feel particularly warm, but Ni Su still pulled it close. Seeing the characters “Ziling” on the cuff, she looked up, and their gazes inadvertently met.

Both almost simultaneously looked away.

Xu Hexue’s entire body scattered faint pale dust, making his form seem even more dreamlike, as if a stronger gust of wind could cause his shadow to fade away like mist.

But looking at him, Ni Su suddenly wanted him to be a little more real, at least not so ethereal and faint, as if he might disappear at any moment.

Leaving the narrow alley, Ni Su looked around. After so many autumn rains, the weather had turned cold, and the steam from the food stalls was much more visible. She smelled a very sweet fragrance.

Xu Hexue watched her walk quickly forward and followed her step by step. He saw her stop before a food stall where the oil pot was frying golden-colored sticky rice cakes.

She was speaking with the stall owner. Xu Hexue stood to one side watching her.

He didn’t pay attention to what she said. He only felt that the green gauze lantern at this stall illuminated her eyes and eyebrows very beautifully.

He suddenly realized

that his silent scrutiny also seemed like a kind of transgression.

Xu Hexue hurriedly looked away, but heard the girl beside him suddenly say, “Can I buy one of your lanterns?”

“Sure.”

Seeing she was alone without a lantern, the stall owner nodded with a smile.

Ni Su, holding a package of fried sticky rice cakes and carrying the woven bamboo green gauze lantern, walked to an empty alley. Only then did she crouch down and take out a flint and steel from her bosom.

“Ever since I met you, I’ve kept this on me.”

Ni Su said this while handing him the oil paper-wrapped sticky rice cakes. “Hold this for me first.”

Xu Hexue accepted them. The freshly fried sticky rice cakes carried scalding heat—even wrapped in oil paper they were still very hot. He lowered his eyes and watched her puff out her cheeks to blow out the candle in the green gauze lantern, then use the flint and steel to relight it.

The firelight extinguished and rekindled, illuminating her profile—soft and clean.

Ni Su stood up and extended her hand toward him.

Xu Hexue handed her the sticky rice cakes, but heard her say, “The lantern.”

He froze for an instant, then immediately gave her the lantern he was holding.

Ni Su took the lantern and handed him the green gauze lantern she’d just bought. “You can tell at a glance this was made by the stall owner’s own family. Do you think it looks nice?”

Xu Hexue gripped the lantern pole. The candlelight, wrapped in green gauze, presented an even more luminous glow that reflected in his eyes. But his gaze slowly fell to the ground, seeing her shadow.

After a long while, he nodded. “It’s nice.”

“As long as you like it.”

Ni Su looked at him. His face was pale and fragile, almost never smiling. But she couldn’t help imagining—if he were still alive and well, if he still had a body of flesh and blood like hers, how would he smile?

At least those eyes would curve into crescents, surely more translucent, more like glass beads condensing light.

That would be so wonderful.

“Xu Ziling.”

The two lanterns finally made his figure less faint. Ni Su didn’t look at him but just walked forward. Walking and walking, she couldn’t help calling his name again.

“Mm?”

Xu Hexue’s gaze moved from the green gauze lantern to her face.

“My brother died here, so I don’t like Yunjing at all. I was thinking before—as long as I obtain justice for my brother, as long as I help you find your old friend, I’ll leave here and never come back to this place.”

“What about you and this place? More joy or more regret?”

Ni Su still couldn’t help being curious about his past.

“I…”

Xu Hexue, because of her question, cautiously examined his own past—those fragments he could still remember.

He had actually had a very good time here once—it could be called unrestrained, could be called happy. Back then his schoolmates could still interact with him without reservations. They had even stolen dates from their teacher’s courtyard to eat together.

He had kicked a sobbing, tear-and-snot-covered friend off the teacher’s roof—it seemed like just yesterday.

But she asked: in the end, was there more joy or more regret?

“When I left this place, all past joys became regrets.”

He finally gave an answer.

“But you don’t regret it, do you?” Ni Su asked him.

Under her gaze, Xu Hexue gently nodded. “Yes.”

The two words “regret” couldn’t fulfill all the regrets that had already occurred. Whether past or present, he didn’t want to use these two words to annotate his brief life.

Even in dreams when meeting his teacher, he didn’t want to speak these two words.

That wouldn’t be respectful to himself,

nor could it respect his teacher.

“Though I still don’t know more about your matters,” Ni Su thought, then continued, “if I were you, I also wouldn’t regret decisions already made.”

Just as she herself had never regretted this journey.

“My matters seem to be concluding. As long as Wu Jikang dies, I can console my brother’s soul.” This was Ni Su’s most relaxed day since arriving in Yunjing. She showed him a smile. “But I’ll still stay here until you find the purpose for returning to the mortal world. I’m the one who summoned you back—I also want your return this time to have fewer regrets.”

The phrase “I’m the one who summoned you back” almost made Xu Hexue lose focus.

In the quiet narrow alley, music from the entertainment district could faintly be heard in the distance.

He actually had no regrets. The various matters of his life—he should have forgotten much of it. If he hadn’t returned to the mortal world, he should have forgotten even more thoroughly. But the souls in the Netherworld Pagoda couldn’t forget that hatred, that resentment.

They couldn’t let go,

so he couldn’t let go either.

“Xu Ziling, the pipa in the entertainment district sounds so lovely. When these matters are finished, let’s go to the entertainment district together to have a look, shall we?”

Ni Su’s voice brought him back to himself.

He stood shoulder to shoulder with her, his pale white light interweaving with her jet-black shadow. His blue-black robe hems could temporarily pass as a shadow like hers.

After a long while, he said hoarsely, “Alright.”

—