By the time the sun was fully up, the maid had already paced back and forth across the courtyard several times.
“Ban Qin, what are you waiting for?” Jin Ge’er asked.
“Why isn’t Ban Qin back yet?” the maid asked as well.
Two questions, one name—yet Jin Ge’er no longer felt confused.
“Ban Qin just left. She won’t be back for another half an hour,” he answered at once.
The maid clasped her hands and walked a few more steps.
“Why didn’t she go earlier?” she muttered.
“Ban Qin always goes out at this time,” Jin Ge’er replied, chewing on a stick of sesame candy, his words muffled. “Why would she go earlier?”
“Isn’t it now…” The maid looked up and began to speak, but cut herself off halfway.
Right—isn’t it now exactly the time something’s going on? How could she let herself lose her composure first?
Ever since the young masters had come that one evening under cover of darkness, they hadn’t returned. No one had been sent to deliver a message or explain anything. The mistress hadn’t told Jin Ge’er to visit the Tai Ping Residence to check on things. Ban Qin still went out to buy groceries as usual.
The household remained calm and quiet—so what was she panicking for?
That Ban Qin’s cooking had only gotten better. This Ban Qin wandered the streets collecting gossip and rumors. Why was she the only one falling behind?
She’d been one of the ones who followed the mistress through a pack of wolves. How could she be losing her nerve over something like this?
Or perhaps… it’s that people are more frightening than wolves.
“Ban Qin, what’s going on now?” Jin Ge’er asked, watching her as she started to speak but then stopped, his face full of confusion.
The maid smiled at him.
“It’s time for Miss to practice archery. Do you want to come play too?” she said.
Because Cheng Jiao-niang enjoyed archery, Xu Maoxiu had set up a target at home. Every morning, after she finished her writing practice, Cheng Jiao-niang would spend half an hour playing with the small bow and arrows Xu Maoxiu had made for her.
For boys, weapons like swords and bows were always the most fascinating. Jin Ge’er had made a fuss until he put together a makeshift bow and arrows of his own so he could join in the fun.
“When the young master has time, he should make one for me too,” he said, clearly envious of Cheng Jiao-niang’s bow and arrows.
Zhou Liu-lang hadn’t slept all night. After coming down from the training grounds, he stood shirtless beside a water bucket for a long while, only snapping out of it when the maid finally couldn’t resist reminding him.
He let the maid wipe him down. After changing into clean clothes, he paced around the room for a bit, then stepped out the door.
The streets were bustling, filled with hawkers’ cries, vivid blossoms, and carefree laughter—a scene of springtime peace and prosperity.
After all, it was only a few street thugs who had died. And not just any thugs—these were the lowest of the low. Though they might have strutted about more brazenly than common folk while alive, in death they were no different from beggars frozen stiff and carted away from the roadside.
Was he really expecting the whole city to be thrown into panic?
Zhou Liu-lang gave a small, amused laugh as he stood by the roadside. His gaze landed ahead—there, a familiar maid was approaching the house, carrying a basket.
“Ban Qin, you’re back.”
Jin Ge’er opened the door, still holding his little bow and arrows. He looked up at Ban Qin, who hadn’t yet had time to smile—when suddenly, a hand shot out from beside her and pushed the door wide open.
Both Jin Ge’er and Ban Qin cried out in shock as Zhou Liu-lang shoved past them and stepped inside.
The small courtyard was tastefully arranged—elegant and refined, with verdant bamboo, blooming flowers, and the gentle sound of running water.
By a cluster of ornamental rocks, a lady turned around.
Dressed in plain clothes with sleeves tied back, she had bright eyes and white teeth. In her hands was a bow and arrow, aimed squarely at Zhou Liu-lang.
Zhou Liu-lang came to a halt, eyes fixed on her.
It was a simple, rough wooden bow. The string was twisted silk and hemp, and in the sunlight, the arrowhead gleamed with a sharp, polished light—as if it could be loosed at any moment.
Even the crudest bow and arrow could kill a man—just like those street thugs.
The maid, Jin Ge’er, and Ban Qin all held their breath, staring in a daze at the girl and boy locked in a silent standoff.
She wouldn’t really shoot… would she?
Cheng Jiao-niang turned her gaze away, stepped aside, and released her grip. With a sharp buzz, the bamboo arrow flew from the string and landed squarely in the center of the straw target several yards away.
Applause broke out in the courtyard.
“Miss, you’re amazing!” the maid cheered with a bright smile.
Cheng Jiao-niang lowered her arms and stepped aside.
“Jin Ge’er, it’s your turn,” the maid called out with a grin.
Still frozen by the door, Jin Ge’er hesitated for a moment—then happily ran over in response.
Laughter and playful chatter from the young boy and the maid filled the courtyard. Ban Qin glanced at Zhou Liu-lang standing to the side, then at Cheng Jiao-niang on the other side, lowered her head, and carried the vegetable basket off toward the kitchen.
Jin Ge’er kept missing the target with his bow and arrow, again and again. The maid was laughing so hard she nearly doubled over.
“Step aside—watch how Miss does it!” she said, laughing.
Cheng Jiao-niang raised her bow once more.
Her movements were steady and composed. Though her arms, bared by her rolled-up sleeves, were slender, they didn’t look weak. From where Zhou Liu-lang stood, he could see her profile: under the sunlight, beads of sweat sparkled on the bridge of the girl’s high nose.
Buzz—the long arrow shot from the bowstring.
“Miss hit the mark again!”
The maid’s cheer rang out.
“Jin Ge’er, Jin Ge’er, come try again!”
Zhou Liu-lang turned and walked away. From beginning to end, he hadn’t said a single word, and no one had spoken to him—as if he had never stepped into the courtyard at all.
“Miss, what’s he throwing a tantrum about this time?” the maid finally asked in a low voice, gently dabbing the fine sweat from Cheng Jiao-niang’s face with a towel.
Cheng Jiao-niang glanced in the direction Zhou Liu-lang had gone. The screen wall now blocked the view, and Jin Ge’er had already trotted over to close the door.
“I’m not him. How would I know?” she replied, handing the bow and arrow to the maid, then shaking out her sleeves and heading into the house. “Ban Qin, tell me—what’s the latest from the streets today?”
A tray bearing a bowl of water and a plate of delicate sticky rice pastries was gently pushed toward her.
After washing up and changing into a clean dress and outer robe, Cheng Jiao-niang reached for a piece of pastry and put it in her mouth.
“…People on the street say a few thugs in South Street stirred up trouble. Seems like they tried to rob someone of something highly valuable and confidential—ended up getting beaten to death. The authorities are investigating their accomplices now…” Ban Qin said, kneeling in the hall with her eyes bright.
“The city gates were tightly guarded today. So many people crammed to get in and out—it was a mess. Everyone’s complaining, saying the government’s useless.”
Cheng Jiao-niang’s expression didn’t waver, but the maid beside her couldn’t hide the look of shock on her face.
They really… killed them?
Then what about Tai Ping Residence…
“There was fresh fish at the market today, but unfortunately I got there too late and didn’t manage to buy any,” Ban Qin said with a touch of regret. “It had all been bought up by Tai Ping Residence outside the city.”
She paused there, as if something occurred to her.
“Oh, right, and—Puxiu Temple brought in a big cart of Tai Ping Tofu from outside the city today. I bet lots of people will get to enjoy a tofu feast at the vegetarian offering.”
The maid sat back down, her expression somewhere between dazed and dawning realization.
“Oh, Miss,” she murmured, “so this is why you said the Buddha needs to see sincerity.”
At first, she had thought the vegetarian feast was about earning fame. Then she realized it was about attracting wealth. Once she understood the wealth, she hadn’t considered the power behind it. And after that—what else might there be?
Just a few thugs. There was no need to trouble the old master himself.
Exactly—just a few thugs. The net had long since been cast. They charged in thinking they were fierce, but they were only marching to their own deaths. Hardly worth mentioning. Hardly worth a second thought.
In just a day and a night, the incident that took place outside the capital remained murky to the general public. Most people didn’t learn the full details until seven or eight days later, and by then, the “truth” had already been settled: Zhu Wu, a human trafficker from South Street, coveted the secret recipe for Tai Ping Tofu, bribed some local thugs to steal it, and was killed in the process.
That was the only version that spread—and it was accepted as indisputable fact.
“…Forget it, it’s getting worse and worse. Same few dishes, nothing new. Let’s go…”
A few customers lounging in the main hall grumbled, glancing at the steaming plates of Passing Immortal. The steam no longer gave off the magical allure it once had in winter; instead, it felt stuffy and oppressive.
“It’s sweltering in here,” someone else added, waving a hand. “Let’s go to Tai Ping Residence. I hear their tea and snacks are really good.”
“Tai Ping Residence? The place where someone got killed recently?” three or four people immediately chimed in, faces showing a hint of hesitation.
After all, eating at a place where someone had died felt… unsettling.
“So what if someone was killed? If you’re bold enough to stir up trouble at Tai Ping Residence, you’re basically asking to die. That place is blessed by the Buddha himself.”
“Exactly. Plenty of people saw it happen—those thugs were killed by an arrow glowing with divine Buddhist light…”
“Really? Well, let’s go then—gotta see it for ourselves…”
Watching the customers pay and leave, and then looking at the nearly empty hall, Dou Qi, who was standing behind the door curtain, had a pale face. His hand, which held a folding fan, trembled.
Zhu Wu was dead.
To prevent the people following him from feeling disappointed, and to ensure that he could still command them in the future, he had put on a sorrowful show, spending a great deal of money to fulfill his promise of making Zhu Wu’s parents and wife’s lives worry-free for the rest of their days.
The case was closed.
To close the case, he had sent out another large sum of money, both openly and secretly.
What started as an effort to make the case succeed had ended up with him hastily trying to close it.
When all was said and done, in a short amount of time, he had spent nearly ten thousand guan, to the point where the restaurant no longer had cash for circulation. But he couldn’t sell his house or land, fearing that any move would give people the wrong idea. He had no choice but to borrow high-interest loans through Secretariat Editor Liu, which was another painful cost.
Money wasted, half of his family’s wealth gone—who was to blame?
Tai Ping Residence!
His mind in turmoil, restless day and night, with business at the restaurant becoming worse and worse—who was to blame?
Tai Ping Residence!
He had bled money and spent his fortune, only for Tai Ping Residence to gain the reputation of being protected by the Buddha!
Tai Ping Residence!
Dou Qi slammed the folding fan against the wall, his eyes bloodshot.
This grudge would not go unpunished. He swore he would not give up until he avenged it.