Old Master Chen’s face darkened.
“San-lang, do you actually pity him? And think Lady Cheng is despicable?” he said. “That Secretariat Editor Liu and Lady Cheng are already locked in irreconcilable enmity—only one can survive. It’s like two armies at war—there’s no room for compassion, morality, or shame. The victor becomes king, the defeated a mere criminal. How can you call the victor wicked and the defeated virtuous? Now that you’ve entered the Council of State and hold the position of a state councillor, don’t start speaking like a naive country bumpkin.”
Chen Shao quickly bowed.
“Father, you are right,” he said, then raised his head again. “I do not pity Secretariat Editor Liu, nor do I think Lady Cheng vile. It’s just… just that seeing one of our kind suffer evokes a certain sorrow. The death of a rabbit brings grief to a fox…Lady Cheng is truly… truly…”
The rest of his words trailed off, swallowed in silence.
Truly ruthless. Ruthless in heart, ruthless in hand. Just as it was said before—others, when faced with obstacles, might retreat or go around. But she? She smashes the barrier to pieces, tears it out by the root, clears the path completely, leaving not a trace behind.
And the most terrifying part is, even now, no one has noticed anything—she’s calm and silent. Even those who died by her hands likely didn’t know who killed them. Well—there’s one who knows now, but he cannot move, cannot speak. That might be worse than not knowing at all.
Though it was self-defense, and others provoked her first with ill intent, a person this merciless still warrants caution.
In this world, no one can escape human affairs. In the dealings between people, who can guarantee they won’t one day say something wrong or offend the wrong person?
And if that person happens to be her…
To have someone like her—so silent, so deadly, so invisible—by your side, it’s truly…
And one must remember: she’s still just a child.
Old Master Chen’s expression was solemn.
“Yes,” he said with a sigh, “compared to goodness, what people care more about—what draws their attention—is evil. One act of evil can erase a hundred acts of good.”
“Father, no one can know. About the things she has done,” Chen Shao said.
If others were to find out, they wouldn’t show the same compassion and pity for this girl’s helplessness and suffering as he and his father did. People are always more concerned about their own safety.
No one would see the injustices she endured, or the perilous situation she faced. Even if they did see, it wouldn’t move them. But once they learned that not only had she survived, but had turned the tables and eliminated those who sought to harm her—their reaction would be very different.
Especially because everything was arranged so perfectly, each move executed with such precision—as if she had foreseen it all. Not a step missed, not a trace left behind. A person who kills without shedding blood.
The first thought anyone would have is: she’s dangerous.
And when faced with someone dangerous, ordinary people instinctively retreat. But those with power—those truly strong—will choose to eliminate the danger.
The stronger and more capable a person is, the less likely they are to allow such a dangerous figure to exist by their side. And what’s more—they have the power to remove her.
Old Master Chen nodded.
“She clearly understands that as well. That’s why she acts with such order and restraint—steady, methodical, leaving no trace,” he said, adjusting his posture as he sat more upright. “Have you analyzed it carefully—did she slip up anywhere this time?”
“When Secretariat Editor Liu had his attack, he was shouting that I’d become Vice Minister,” Chen Shao recalled. “These past few days, ever since my promotion, there’s been a lot of talk in the hall about the new Vice Minister. They say Secretariat Editor Liu was the most likely candidate.”
“Everyone was chatting and joking at the time, and the young master from the Qin family—the son of Lecturer Qin—happened to pass by. He joined in the teasing and offered his congratulations. And that’s when Secretariat Editor Liu went mad.”
“Lecturer Qin’s son?” Old Master Chen said. “What was that boy doing over there?”
“It was said to be regarding some business with the Zhou family—specifically with Guide General Zhou,” Chen Shao replied, eyes gleaming. “Young Master Qin is very close with Sixth Young Master Zhou. In the course of his visits, it’s only natural he’d overhear idle chatter. Saying a congratulatory word in passing wouldn’t be unusual.”
Old Master Chen nodded again.
“Not unusual, not unusual,” he repeated, a thoughtful look in his eyes, his tone layered with implication. “Very fitting. Very considerate. Very well thought out.”
At that point, he couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Poor Secretariat Editor Liu, what a pitiful end,” he murmured. “Cautious and meticulous his whole life, with so many who’ve fallen at his hands—yet in the end, brought down by two children. With his level of prudence and cunning, I suspect he’s already figured out the truth by now…”
And then he recalled what that young lady had said to Secretariat Editor Liu while diagnosing him:
“This kind of illness requires calm rest and keeping one’s spirits light.”
Damn ruthless!
Old Master Chen swore silently in his heart.
“Shi’san.”
In the main hall, Qin An called out to stop Young Master Qin, who was about to take his leave after offering his greetings.
“Yes, Father,” Young Master Qin stopped in his tracks and turned to face him.
But Qin An didn’t speak right away. He looked at his son, seeming somewhat hesitant.
“These past few days—have you been going to the government hall because of the Zhou family?” he paused briefly, then asked.
“Yes, Father. I couldn’t hide it anyway,” Young Master Qin replied with a smile. “I haven’t caused you any trouble, have I?”
Qin An shook his head.
“Of course not,” he said, pausing again before continuing, “The rumor that Secretariat Editor Liu might be promoted to Vice Minister—who did you hear it from?”
“Just the usual people who are always around the Council of State,” Young Master Qin said, a hint of unease creeping into his voice. “Father, I may have spoken out of turn. I shouldn’t have joined in the teasing and laughter… If I hadn’t, maybe Secretariat Editor Liu wouldn’t have…”
At this point, his expression turned sorrowful and full of guilt.
“What does this have to do with Shi’san?” came the voice of Madam Qin from inside the room. “So many officials are promoted or demoted all the time—some are happy, some upset—have you ever seen anyone else lose their mind like that? No sense, no self-restraint! It’s laughable, really!”
Madam Qin was sharp-tongued and fiercely protective. Qin An never argued with his wife over words. He simply shook his head with a smile.
“Go on, go on. It’s nothing,” he said, waving a hand at Young Master Qin.
“I’ll visit Secretariat Editor Liu tomorrow,” Young Master Qin said.
“No need,” Qin An replied. Then, after a moment, he nodded slightly to emphasize, “There’s no need.”
Though they were all officials, Master Liu’s sort of family was completely different from their own—a well-established noble house. If they still served in court together, maintaining polite relations would be appropriate. But now, there was no such obligation.
Young Master Qin answered obediently and, leaning on his cane, left with the help of a servant.
Though he had seen it for over ten years, watching his son walk with a limp still pierced Qin An’s heart every time.
“That’s enough, don’t watch,” Madam Qin called out from within. “So long as he’s well, that’s all that matters.”
Qin An composed himself, adjusted his expression, and stepped into the inner room with a faint smile.
Inside, the room was brightly lit with pearl lamps. The floor was adorned with floral-patterned rugs, and game boards for backgammon and chess were laid out. A six-panel painted screen stood beneath the tree, depicting a beautiful lady.
But no one was seated at the low game table.
“Secretariat Editor Liu’s illness is a bit strange,” said Qin An as he sat down in front of the chessboard.
There was the soft rustle of fabric as Madam Qin emerged from behind the screen, fanning herself with a round silk fan.
“What’s strange about it?” she asked.
“Chen Shao’s promotion wasn’t surprising. But the rumor that Secretariat Editor Liu would succeed him—that came out of nowhere,” Qin An said, picking up a chess piece and continuing their unfinished game. “I asked around today, and someone told me it was I who said it.”
“Did you say it?” Madam Qin asked, sitting down across from him. With one hand she adjusted her sleeve, and with the other, she placed a piece on the board.
“I did mention something, but only because I heard Shi’san bring it up in passing. When someone asked me about it, I casually responded, but I never said it was Secretariat Editor Liu. Even though I serve close to His Majesty, I don’t know who it would be,” Qin An replied, frowning as he placed another piece.
“It’s all just talk. A bit of idle gossip—what of it? Rumors don’t spread without cause. Let people say what they will. In this world, people and their affairs—when have they ever been free of speculation?” Madam Qin said casually as she contemplated her next move.
Qin An paused, thinking. He still felt something was off, but couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
“Forget it. It’s really his own fault for being so narrow-minded. It’s not even that serious, and yet he…” Qin An shook his head. “Truly unlucky.”
“He just obsessed over promotion too much and ended up harming himself. Can’t blame anyone else for that,” Madam Qin said with a smile, placing her piece. “I win.”
A night of rain had cooled the sweltering summer heat, and by dawn, the drizzle still hadn’t stopped.
Cheng Si-lang dismounted from his horse, adjusted his bamboo hat, and looked at the gate in front of him.
The Zhou residence.
Yes, this was the place.
He turned back to glance at the servant carrying the gift box.
“Don’t let it get wet—hold it tightly,” he instructed.
The servant quickly hugged the box to his chest, while another servant stepped forward to knock on the gate.
“Who are you looking for?” someone from inside peeked out, eyeing the master and his attendants at the gate.
Cheng Si-lang offered a respectful bow.
“I’m Fourth Young Master of the Cheng family from Jiang-zhou, here to pay a visit,” he said.
“Who?”
Madam Zhou asked from within.
“Cheng… from Jiang-zhou…” the maid replied.
This time, Madam Zhou heard clearly. She gasped, and her face—already pale from a sleepless night—turned even whiter.
“Quick! Drive them away!” she shouted, a flicker of fear flashing in her dark-rimmed eyes. “Quickly! Drive them off! Our family stands irreconcilable with the Chengs! They—they bullied our dear Jiao Jiao! We will never back down!”
The maid was utterly confused, not even catching the full explanation before being shoved out by Madam Zhou’s frantic commands.
Ah well—everyone knew the Zhou and Cheng families were sworn enemies who never visited each other. Driving them away was probably for the best.
Cheng Si-lang awkwardly took a few steps back, feeling quite embarrassed as he faced the Zhou family gatekeeper, who was glaring at him with obvious hostility.
He knew relations between the Cheng and Zhou families were extremely strained—there had even been a public fight at the funeral of Cheng Jiao-niang’s mother, which became the laughingstock of Jiang-zhou for quite some time.
But he had been very young back then, carried away on a servant’s back. He had only caught a glimpse of the chaos from behind the crowd and could barely remember how intense it was.
“I—I’m here to visit my sister,” Cheng Si-lang said. Surely that would be acceptable?
“Your sister? Who’s that supposed to be?” the gatekeeper asked, hands on his hips.
“What’s wrong with you?” the servant beside him couldn’t take it anymore and snapped, glaring. “My master’s sister—of course we mean Lady Cheng!”
Oh—right. Everyone had forgotten.
“She doesn’t live here anymore,” the gatekeeper said, waving them off. “Go on now, don’t bother us.”
She doesn’t live here?
Cheng Si-lang was shocked.
“Then where is she?” he asked urgently.
The answer he got was a loud slam as the gate shut in his face.
The young master and his servant exchanged a glance.
“Master, maybe it’s like back at home—she was sent off to a temple or something,” the servant said quietly.
That was possible.
Cheng Si-lang let out a sigh and glanced again at the Zhou family’s gate.
“Let’s go. We’ll try to find out more slowly,” he said.
As the pair turned to leave, on the other side of town, Master Zhou had just arrived at the Yudai Bridge gate.
The carriage came to a halt, but he remained seated inside, peering out through the curtain at the residence before him and swallowing nervously.
This was probably his third time coming here. The first time, he had personally driven the young lady out of the house, putting on a show of seeing her off—without actually entering. The second time, he came gleefully to announce the Qin family’s marriage proposal, only to be flatly rejected—again, not even allowed through the door.
“Father?” Zhou Liu-lang prompted from outside.
Master Zhou took a deep breath, lifted the curtain, and stepped down from the carriage.
