Zhou Liu-lang hurriedly stepped into the hall.
“What on earth is going on, Mother?” he asked.
Madam Zhou was pacing in the room, wringing her hands, her face filled with anxiety.
“I don’t know either, and Master Dong doesn’t seem to know much as well. All we know is that it was a decision made by the Imperial Archives,” she said, then added, “Where has your father gotten to?”
“Brother said he’s already passed Wuyang,” Zhou Liu-lang replied, then tried to comfort Madam Zhou, “Mother, don’t worry too much. Several officials are trying to intercede. There’s still a chance to turn things around for now.”
Although there was still a chance to reverse the situation for now, the mere fact that this had happened made it obvious that something had gone wrong in officialdom.
“What exactly is going on!” Madam Zhou couldn’t help but burst into tears. “Everything had always been fine. We’ve always been proper with the holidays and thorough with our daily dealings. Everything was going well—how could it suddenly turn out like this?”
Zhou Liu-lang furrowed his brows in deep thought.
Yes, this incident had come far too suddenly, and far too silently.
It definitely wasn’t the result of some long-standing grudge—it could only have been triggered by something unexpected.
But what unexpected thing had happened? There hadn’t been the slightest sign.
“Has Father offended anyone recently?” Zhou Liu-lang asked.
“How could that be? Your father isn’t some naive newcomer to the bureaucracy. He’s been in the capital for years—he’s long since smoothed over all the important relationships. Any old grudges have already been managed or guarded against; no one even had the chance to strike from the shadows. Besides, your father’s been tied up in Jiang-zhou lately dealing with that fool—how could he have offended anyone!” Madam Zhou replied, her tone turning indignant as she spoke.
“It’s all that idiot from Jiang-zhou’s fault!”
She cried out.
“A jinx, that’s what she is! Nothing good comes from getting involved with her! We never should’ve taken her in to begin with!”
“Mother, what does this have to do with her?” Zhou Liu-lang said with a frown.
“It has everything to do with her!” Madam Zhou shouted. “Send her out of the capital! Send her back to the Cheng family!”
“Mother!” Zhou Liu-lang said helplessly. “Right now, Father’s situation is what matters most. Don’t lose your composure and misjudge the situation.”
After much effort calming the agitated Madam Zhou, Zhou Liu-lang stepped out of the courtyard, his expression still grim.
It had all come so suddenly.
“But I do know this—your cousin is definitely not someone to cross.”
Young Master Qin’s voice echoed in his ears.
Zhou Liu-lang pictured his face before him.
Young Master Qin held up two fingers.
“At least two lives. And if any of the maids from the two households that were liquidated were injured or killed, then the number’s even higher.”
Those maids and servants had only spoken a few disrespectful words, and she found the chance to strike and wiped them out completely…
And what the Zhou family had done to her—was far more than mere disrespect.
“That lady holds grudges… and she’s petty…”
Could it really have been her?
No—that’s impossible! Absolutely impossible!
Zhou Liu-lang waved his hand, and the image of Young Master Qin faded from his mind.
There’s no need to torment yourself with baseless fears. If you want answers—just go ask her directly.
He stood in front of the gate for a moment.
“Saddle the horse,” he said.
Zhou Liu-lang stormed into the residence by Yudai Bridge, just as he always did.
Jin Ge’er had somewhat gotten used to it by now. He no longer shouted or made a fuss, but instead leaned against the door, glaring at him angrily.
“Did you come alone?”
Looking at Zhou Liu-lang as he sat down, Cheng Jiao-niang asked with her usual emotionless expression, while glancing behind him.
“What about that cripple?” she asked.
Just as Zhou Liu-lang sat down, he suddenly stiffened and immediately kneeled up straight as if a needle had been driven into the cushion.
“Cheng Jiao-niang!” he glared, gritting his teeth, “Do you have to be so venomous with your words?”
Cheng Jiao-niang remained unmoved, staring at him.
“Are you two finally growing distant?” she asked.
Zhou Liu-lang’s face turned ashen.
“Sorry I can’t give you what you want,” he gritted through his teeth. “We’re still doing just fine.”
Cheng Jiao-niang nodded.
“No rush, take it slow,” she said.
Zhou Liu-lang, furious, stared at her, unable to speak, and took a deep breath to calm himself.
“Cheng Jiao-niang, I didn’t come here to bicker with you. I’m here to ask you something,” he said, pausing for a moment. “Did you have anything to do with my father’s situation?”
Cheng Jiao-niang looked at him, and her previously casual posture suddenly straightened.
“What happened to your father?” she asked.
Though her expression remained as indifferent as ever, Zhou Liu-lang seemed to catch the seriousness in her eyes.
She didn’t know…
It wasn’t her. It couldn’t have been her.
Zhou Liu-lang let out a breath, then stood up without a word and walked toward the door.
The maid who was kneeling beside Cheng Jiao-niang was immediately fuming with anger.
Though she had long known that this brute was always so inexplicably difficult, his incessant behavior was truly suffocating.
“Hey, are you sick or something?” she snapped. “You barge into our house, banging on the door, hitting us left and right, and you don’t say a word—what are you even doing? Are you here just to have fun?”
Zhou Liu-lang ignored her, turning and striding out of the room.
The maid followed a few steps, stomping her foot in frustration.
“Such bad luck! How did we end up with relatives like you! You’re so annoying!” she shouted as she ran after him.
Zhou Liu-lang strode away.
The maid, fuming, slammed the door shut.
“That’s infuriating,” she muttered, turning back into the hall. She saw Cheng Jiao-niang’s expression remain wooden, as if in a daze.
At this moment, she was relieved that her mistress was different from ordinary women.
If it had been another woman’s house, they would have been crying uncontrollably by now.
“Miss, shall we hire a few guards and servants?” she asked, kneeling down. “We can’t just let people treat our house like it’s no different from an empty space.”
“He’s no threat,” Cheng Jiao-niang shook her head and said, her hand gently resting on the armrest. “Don’t worry about him.”
Her mistress was always so easygoing, accepting whatever came her way without complaint.
The maid sighed, her heart aching.
“Now, the real trouble has arrived,” Cheng Jiao-niang continued, tapping her fingers lightly on the table.
The real trouble?
The maid looked at Cheng Jiao-niang in surprise.
There hadn’t been anything serious going on lately—what trouble could have come?
And if something was troublesome in her mistress’s eyes, it must be something extraordinary.
With a single gulp, Dou Qi emptied his cup, then threw it onto the table and laughed heartily.
“That old man from the Zhou family is finished this time,” he said, unable to hide his smugness. “A military official. With a bit of courage, he dares to go against the civil officials, and not just any official—but one from the Imperial Archives. It wasn’t easy to get promoted, so what’s the harm in finding a flaw in him? It’s all out in the open—who can do anything about it?”
The manager poured him another drink.
“Yeah, yeah,” Dou Qi agreed happily. “This time, Grandpa’s really angry.”
“It’s just a louse, hanging on the big bug’s fur. It thinks it’s become the big bug itself and wants to suck the blood of other big bugs,” Dou Qi sneered. “That little belly will burst sooner or later.”
With that, he picked up his cup and drained it in one go.
The manager poured him another drink.
“Secretariat Editor Liu really deserves his reputation after all these years in the capital. His actions are so quick. What’s even more surprising is that neither the Chen family, nor the Tong family, nor any of the other families, whether sick or well, have stepped forward to speak on his behalf,” he said.
He hesitated for a moment.
“Isn’t that a bit strange?” he asked.
Isn’t the situation too simple?
Dou Qi gave a smug smile once again.
“It’s always been simple. Grandpa’s decades of good reputation and the intricate web of interests he’s built up—how could they be easily underestimated?” he said. “It’s the Zhou family who’s muddled up and thinking too simply!”
The manager nodded, no longer having any doubts.
“This time, the Zhou family will have people crying for sure,” he said, unable to hide his excitement. “If they don’t lose a lot, they won’t be able to escape unscathed.”
“Serves them right!” Dou Qi muttered.
“Then, Tai Ping Residence will belong to the Dou family,” the manager laughed.
Naturally. Otherwise, would Secretariat Editor Liu have acted just to vent his anger?
Anger must be vented, but profit must also be earned—that’s how a clever person operates.
“One more thing,” Dou Qi said, a cold, sinister look crossing his drunken face. “Grandpa has already acted, and now it’s time for me to vent my anger too.”
He stretched out his hand and knocked on the table, producing a dull thud.
“That ungrateful Li Dashao deserves to learn a lesson,” he sneered.
As the city gates were locked, the official road, covered by the night, became eerily quiet. The lights in Tai Ping Residence gradually went out, and the bustling restaurants quieted down. The waiters, having worked all day, were chatting and preparing for their meal.
Li Dashao changed into a new set of clothes and walked out.
“Dashao, don’t leave so late,” the Manager Wu said.
“It’s fine, I haven’t been home for a few days. I’m just heading back tonight to check on things,” Li Dashao replied with a smile. “Summer nights aren’t too late; it’s just the right time for some cool air.”
Manager Wu nodded.
“Perfect, you can bring some meat, vegetables, and rice noodles back with you,” he said.
“No need, there’s still plenty left at home,” Li Dashao said.
A waiter, ever so attentive, brought two cloth bags over and placed them on the donkey’s back.
“This is the rule. What’s yours should be taken; we can’t break the rules,” Manager Wu smiled.
Li Dashao grinned foolishly, no longer being polite, and bid farewell to everyone. He mounted his donkey and left.
The summer night breeze swept away some of the lingering heat.
Li Dashao walked slowly behind his donkey, carrying a lantern, while mentally dividing up the rice, noodles, meat, and vegetables to give to his relatives.
He had sent some stuff to his in-laws last time, so he wouldn’t send anything there this time. It had been a while since he’d visited his uncle’s family—he should stop by. And then his aunt’s family, too. Although they hadn’t helped much during the hard times, relatives were still relatives. Now that he was able, he should lend them a hand.
Behind him, faint footsteps sounded.
Could it be villagers traveling late at night?
Li Dashao instinctively turned to look. Through the hazy night, he saw four or five figures closing in—then suddenly, a rush of wind hit him.
A burlap sack was thrown over him.
“Who are you people?!” he shouted.
Before the words left his mouth, a barrage of clubs rained down on him.
Muffled cries of pain broke the silence of the night, and dogs in the surrounding area began barking in chorus.
“That’s enough. Let the wretch keep his miserable life.”
A man’s voice spoke, halting the rain of blows. On the ground, Li Dashao curled up in pain, his body twitching weakly, groaning from his injuries.
“But…” the man continued with a sinister laugh, “we can’t let this trip be for nothing.”
The other men understood and chuckled darkly in response.
“Brother, should we take that hand?” one of them asked.
The first man chuckled again.
“I heard this guy’s a cook,” he said. “I’m curious—can a cook still cook without his right hand?”
Nearly unconscious, Li Dashao seemed to hear this. Though he had no strength left, his body began to struggle again.
“Help…” he mouthed weakly, calling out in a faint voice.
He reached out, trying to crawl away.
Run, run…
But someone quickly stepped on his back, pinning him down. Another foot stomped on the hand he had stretched out.
No…
Help…
The night was dark, and under the sack over his head, even darker. The lantern that had fallen to the ground flickered as it burned out, casting a faint gleam on the raised short blade.
A scream tore through the night once more. Blood splattered across the lantern, extinguishing the last ember of light.
The world went completely dark.
