Zhou Liu-lang felt his mind buzzing.
This scene seemed familiar to him.
Where had he seen it before?
Ah, right—it was when he heard Young Master Qin describe Secretariat Editor Liu’s sudden illness.
“I just said one sentence, and Master Liu suddenly… went mad.”
The young man had said with a smile, mimicking the sound of a firecracker exploding with his hands.
In truth, Zhou Liu-lang knew that those words were less his own and more Cheng Jiao-niang’s.
And now, she had spoken another sentence.
“I can’t cure your leg at all…”
And so, another person collapsed.
Who needs bloodshed to kill? Words can be the cruelest weapon!
And that tea! He had known all along—it wasn’t tea, it was poison!
How hateful that they trusted her so! How hateful that Shi’san treated her so kindly!
Zhou Liu-lang let out a hoarse roar and lunged toward the fallen Young Master Qin.
The servants by Young Master Qin’s side were already trembling in terror, and one of them burst into loud, panicked sobs.
“Young Master—the Young Master isn’t breathing!” he wailed between cries.
Zhou Liu-lang’s legs faltered, and he dropped to his knees before Young Master Qin.
The young man’s face was deathly pale, his jaw clenched tight.
When Zhou Liu-lang reached out to check for breath, his entire body turned to ice, his mind blank with shock.
“Cheng Jiao-niang!!!”
The maid stared blankly, then stiffly turned her head to look at Cheng Jiao-niang beside her.
“Miss, I was wrong,” she murmured.
She had once thought the most fearsome thing was her master verbally assaulting someone to death. Never had she imagined that the true mastery lay not in shouting nor arguing, but in killing with just a few carefully chosen words.
All this time she’d foolishly believed her mistress spoke clumsily. Clumsy? This was anything but…
Sun Cai stumbled and fell to the ground. The two bean-grinding workers stood frozen in terror.
“Another one dead. Another one dead,” Sun Cai muttered from the floor. “This isn’t an eatery… It’s the Court of Hell itself.”
Meanwhile, at the Chen residence, Madam Qin sat facing Madam Chen while gently fanning herself with a smile.
“Can you guess why I’ve come, my dear?” she asked playfully.
Madam Chen appeared somewhat resigned.
“You know I’m slow-witted. Don’t tease me—just speak plainly,” she replied.
With a laugh, Madam Qin set down her round fan.
“Motherhood has made you less amusing these days,” she teased.
“We’re both mothers of four or five children now. These aren’t our carefree childhood days,” Madam Chen chided gently.
“What of it? You’re still you, and I’m still me,” Madam Qin countered cheerfully before clearing her throat. Setting aside her fan, she composed herself and said seriously, “My dear, I’ve come to inquire about that divine doctor—Lady Cheng.”
Madam Chen let out a knowing “Oh.” Nowadays, wasn’t everyone who came to visit her—whether openly or discreetly—inquiring about that Lady Cheng?
“Is this about Shi’san?” she asked.
Madam Qin’s eyes sparkled with mischief.
“Now, my dear, guess whether I’ve come for Shi’san… or Thirteen’s leg?” she queried playfully.
Madam Chen glared.
“Whatever your purpose, let me make this clear: If you’re after his leg, forget about him. If you’re after him, forget about his leg,” she stated firmly.
Madam Qin stared blankly for a moment before bursting into laughter.
“My, what a smooth-tongued riddle you weave!” she chuckled. “I can’t even follow your meaning.”
And yet… hadn’t she heard something like this before?
Where had she heard it?
“If she agrees to marry me, it means she won’t heal me.”
“Now that she’s refused the marriage, I still have a chance at treatment.”
The young man’s voice echoed in her mind.
Madam Qin suddenly understood.
“Oh, what a coincidence! My son also—” she began with a laugh, but before she could finish, someone came rushing in from outside.
Such rudeness?
Both Madam Chen and Madam Qin frowned as they turned to look.
A servant stumbled in, nearly tripping over himself.
“Madam! Madam! Something terrible has happened—Thirteenth Young Master, he’s in trouble!” he cried out in panic.
Madam Qin swayed on her feet.
Madam Chen quickly reached out to steady her.
“Silence! How dare you spout such nonsense!” Madam Chen rebuked the servant sharply.
“Shi’san may spout nonsense often, but his servants never dare to.” Madam Qin gripped Madam Chen’s hand, her face pale as she stared at the servant. “Speak—what happened?”
The servant lifted his tear-streaked face.
“Madam… Thirteenth Young Master… was provoked to death!” he wailed.
The room fell deathly silent.
Madam Chen felt an icy dread seize her heart, her legs giving way as she collapsed onto her seat.
Yet Madam Qin suddenly let out a soft, disbelieving chuckle.
“Shi’san might die a hundred ways—but being provoked to death? That’s utterly impossible,” she said, her laughter brittle.
Madam Chen, frantic, struck her lightly on the back.
Grief was better met with tears than laughter—before true devastation struck!
“Madam, Thirteenth Young Master—he was provoked to death by that Zhou family’s divine doctor, Lady Cheng!” the servant wept.
At these words, Madam Qin’s laughter froze on her lips. Madam Chen, too, went deathly still, her hand pausing mid-air. Both women stared at the servant in stunned disbelief.
“Who?” Madam Qin asked, her voice trembling.
“That Lady Cheng from the Zhou family of Guide General—the one who can raise the dead!” the servant sobbed.
Had it been anyone else, Madam Qin would have refused to believe it. But this Lady Cheng…
If she could restore life, then snatching it away must be just as effortless.
And considering the girl’s longstanding grudge against her son—all because of Zhou Liu-lang…
This was provocation, not outright murder. No blade, no trace—a crime without legal consequence…
Were this known, others would merely laugh and call the boy weak-hearted for dying of rage…
Madam Qin collapsed heavily into her seat, her face ashen.
“Impossible!” Madam Chen’s voice trembled as she grasped Madam Qin’s arm. “There must be some misunderstanding—she’s not that kind of person.”
Madam Qin shook her off and rose unsteadily to her feet, her maids rushing to support her.
“Tell me, my dear,” she said, staring at Madam Chen, “though we’ve both become mothers now, are we still the same as we were in our childhood?”
Madam Chen’s face was equally pale.
“There must be a mistake—” She reached out urgently.
“I care not for mistakes,” Madam Qin interrupted. “I only ask you this: Are you and I still as close as we once were? If someone wronged me, would you stand by me? And if you were wronged, would I not do the same?”
Madam Chen gazed at her, tears slipping silently down her cheeks.
“Shi’yi-niang…” She slowly shook her head. “I must stand by her…”
A bitter smile touched Madam Qin’s lips.
“Very well. So we are no longer the girls we once were,” she said, then turned and walked away without another word.
Madam Chen hurried after her.
“There must be some misunderstanding! Lady Cheng would never—” she called out desperately.
But Madam Qin never looked back, her rapid footsteps echoing down the corridor.
After a few futile steps, Madam Chen stopped her pursuit. Wheeling around, she raised her hand in command.
“Where is the master?” she demanded sharply. Then, noticing the servants who had followed them out, her expression darkened with sudden realization.
This matter—the death of Qin Shi’san at Lady Cheng’s provocation—must never leave these walls.
The expression on Madam Chen’s face betrayed her thoughts, and immediately the maids dropped to their knees, trembling as they awaited her judgment.
“What just happened must never leave this room. Anyone who speaks of it will face the family punishment—beaten to death with the staff!” Madam Chen commanded in a grave, thunderous voice.
The servants hastily murmured their obedience.
As Madam Chen turned away, her face was etched with deep anxiety and urgency.
Heavens above… this Lady Cheng…
“One of them got away just now…”
Fan Jianglin murmured, his face shadowed with worry.
“Sister, you should leave first. We’ll hold them off.”
The rear courtyard of Tai Ping Residence remained eerily quiet, as always.
Young Master Qin lay motionless on the ground. Zhou Liu-lang knelt before him, equally still. The two servants had been gagged and pinned down, their muffled whimpers barely audible. The brothers from Maoyuan Mountain stood guard like watchful tigers, their eyes sharp and unyielding.
Cheng Jiao-niang stepped forward, her maidservant instinctively following with the bow and arrows in her arms.
“So one escaped to deliver a message—what does it matter?” Zhou Liu-lang spoke slowly, his voice hoarse. “Even if you’d trapped them all here, do you truly believe you can escape this time?”
“He died of his own rage—we never laid a hand on him,” the maid retorted. “We fear nothing.”
Zhou Liu-lang lifted his head, his face ghostly pale and eyes bloodshot as he stared at Cheng Jiao-niang.
“Cheng Jiao-niang… are you satisfied now?” he asked.
She paused mid-step.
“Is he dead?” she inquired.
“Dead,” Zhou Liu-lang confirmed, his gaze fixed on her—strangely devoid of his usual fury.
Cheng Jiao-niang nodded.
“Then yes, I am satisfied,” she said, reaching out idly. “I thought killing him would require more effort. Turns out it was this easy.”
Zhou Liu-lang suddenly sprang up. The maid shrieked, instinctively turning to shield Cheng Jiao-niang with her body.
But no furious blows came.
Fan Jianglin had intercepted Zhou Liu-lang.
Ignoring the commotion, Cheng Jiao-niang stepped forward and stood calmly before Young Master Qin’s prone form.
“He’s nearly dead enough,” she remarked coolly, looking down at him. “Carry him inside. I can treat him now.”
Treat him?
Her words struck the gathered crowd like thunder. Everyone froze in stunned silence.
