The street in front of Immortal’s Abode was packed to the brim, buzzing with noise and endless shouts and curses.
Those who arrived later couldn’t push through, unable to hear or see anything, hopping anxiously in frustration. They could only keep asking those in front what had happened.
“…An old man was chasing and beating his son-in-law, and then the son-in-law fell and died…”
“…No, no, no—it wasn’t a beating. They say the son-in-law owed gambling debts and got beaten up. The old man brought people to help, but the son-in-law thought they were coming for him, panicked, ran, and then fell to his death…”
“…How could he just fall and die like that?”
“…Exactly! So now the old man is dragging the shop owners to court, saying they took up the street with their long steps, which caused the fall…”
“…That’s a stretch!”
“…That old man is Dong Daxiang—the kind who’d fight over night soil if he thought it was valuable. With his son-in-law dead, of course he’d try to milk it for all it’s worth.”
The street buzzed with chatter, the commotion growing livelier by the minute. Soon enough, government officials caught wind of the uproar and rushed over. After much arguing and shoving, they hauled away Master Dong and his men, along with the grim-faced manager and the corpse, to the magistrate. Most of the crowd followed to watch the spectacle at the government office, and only then did the remaining people on the street gradually disperse.
In the private room on the second floor overlooking the street, Zhou Liu-lang lowered the curtain and turned to look at Cheng Jiao-niang.
From beginning to end, the girl had been sitting quietly at the table, calmly eating her meal.
It was… unbelievable.
“How did you do it?” he couldn’t help but ask.
“Do what?” Cheng Jiao-niang replied without even turning her head.
“Did he really just trip and die?” Zhou Liu-lang strode over and knelt across from her.
“If he didn’t die from a fall, then how?” Cheng Jiao-niang asked. “I wasn’t watching by the window—how would I know?”
She’s playing dumb again.
Zhou Liu-lang stared at her.
“You specifically chose this private room—wasn’t it just to conveniently watch him die?” he said.
“This is the best room here. Of course I’d use it when I come,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied.
Only a fool would believe that!
Zhou Liu-lang snorted.
Since entering, she hadn’t touched any tea, snacks, or anything edible. Could it be the scent?
He raised his head and glanced around, then sniffed deeply.
This was Immortal’s Abode’s Apricot Blossom Room, decorated entirely with apricot blossom motifs—even the incense carried the theme.
As for whether it actually smelled like apricot blossoms, Zhou Liu-lang, being a man, couldn’t tell. The fragrance was faint, almost imperceptible.
“What did you use, really?” he couldn’t help but ask. “Poison?”
“Is there such a poison in this world that can target a specific person while leaving others unharmed?” Cheng Jiao-niang said. “If that were possible, wouldn’t one become an omnipotent deity?”
“Aren’t you already a deity?” Zhou Liu-lang retorted with a snort.
“If I were a deity, would I still need to waste my breath on someone like him?” Cheng Jiao-niang replied, slowly stirring the rice in her bowl.
“Then how did you know he would die today?” Zhou Liu-lang pressed.
“Because I was going to beat him to death tonight,” Cheng Jiao-niang said, glancing at him. “Who knew luck would be against me—he ended up tripping to his death first.”
Beat him to death? Luck was against her?
“So you’re saying his death wasn’t part of your plan?” Zhou Liu-lang asked, his face full of disbelief.
Could it really be that Xiang Qi just had the bad luck to trip and die?
What kind of coincidence is that!
How could this possibly happen!
If it were any other time, fine—but it had to be right after meeting this girl, right after being frightened out of his wits…
Right—frightened!
“You scared him to death!” Zhou Liu-lang declared firmly.
That had to be it. She had flattered Secretariat Editor Liu into a stroke and infuriated Qin Shi’san to his demise—of course she could frighten Xiang Qi to death. The more he thought about it, the more certain he became.
“So that’s why you had me go to the South Gate to get that document from him, and then set up that fortune-teller to spook him—it was all for this moment,” he said, nodding in realization.
“No,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied, setting down her chopsticks.
“Then what was it for? Just to scare him for fun?” Zhou Liu-lang scoffed.
“Exactly.” Cheng Jiao-niang met his gaze, tilting her chin slightly. “To scare him, for fun—just to vent a little anger, that’s all.”
Zhou Liu-lang stared at her wide-eyed.
“You?” He frowned, as if he didn’t recognize the person before him. “Would stoop to something so trivial?”
Cheng Jiao-niang lowered her head and stood up.
“Hey.” Zhou Liu-lang remained seated, looking up at her as he called out.
Cheng Jiao-niang glanced down at him.
Zhou Liu-lang studied her face.
“Are you… angry?” he asked, his expression incredulous.
Then, suddenly, his lips curled into a grin.
“So, you can get angry,” he remarked.
The girl stood poised before him, her expression as inscrutable as ever. Yet that slight sidelong glance she gave him carried a fleeting hint of liveliness.
This girl had always been unshaken by praise or blame—a stagnant pool of indifference. And yet, she could actually get angry?
So this was how she looked when she was upset…
“You are angry, aren’t you?” Zhou Liu-lang said, crossing his arms as he studied her. “This whole mess was actually caused by some worthless nobody acting out of petty spite—yet by sheer bad luck, it turned into a disaster even you couldn’t control. It must be eating you alive, huh? To be backed into a corner by someone like that…”
He grinned again.
“Not to put too fine a point on it, but it really fits the saying—the hunter who bagged countless geese finally got pecked in the eye by one…”
Cheng Jiao-niang averted her gaze, lifted the hem of her skirt, and stepped toward the door. Ban Qin hurriedly rose and followed with bowed head.
Zhou Liu-lang turned to watch her, then pushed off the ground and sprang up after her.
“Hey, I was wondering why you said those things today,” he said, catching up and shouldering Ban Qin aside as he lowered his voice. “Turns out this time, it wasn’t some scheme or deception—you were genuinely furious, just scaring him to vent your anger.”
Cheng Jiao-niang kept walking forward, her eyes fixed straight ahead.
In the afternoon, Immortal’s Abode was nearly empty of customers. The long corridor was utterly silent, the early autumn sunlight streaming through the straight windows and scattering in fragments across the floor as their robes swayed.
“So even you would talk recklessly,” Zhou Liu-lang remarked. “Daring to say things like that—it’s like kids fighting and boasting, ‘My dad is so-and-so,’ ‘I’m so-and-so,’ ‘I can do this and that,’ ‘I’m so amazing’…”
He burst into laughter.
“If those words got out, it’d be a disaster!” he said.
Claiming to be a disciple of immortals, boasting of possessing secrets to revive the dead, declaring the power to cut short a person’s lifespan—such talk might be harmless as idle gossip among common folk, but if someone openly proclaimed it themselves, the implications would be entirely different.
Demonic cults and heresy were never the righteous path, nor would they be tolerated by the imperial court.
“Mm, exactly. That guy was doomed the moment he heard you today,” Zhou Liu-lang nodded. “After listening to those words of yours, there was no way he could stay alive.”
Cheng Jiao-niang halted and turned her head to look at him.
“Though the process wasn’t what I expected,” she said, “the outcome remains the same. Would you like to experience something like this firsthand?”
Zhou Liu-lang stared back at her.
“Are you threatening me?” He bared his teeth in a grin. “I’ve done nothing to feel guilty about—you can’t scare me to death.”
“Actually, have you ever considered,” Cheng Jiao-niang said, her gaze steady, “that I was already supposed to be dead? If I hadn’t recovered, there would be no Cheng Jiao-niang left in this world by now.”
Zhou Liu-lang’s smile vanished instantly.
“Indifference from strangers is merely callousness, but when it comes from one’s own flesh and blood, it becomes abetment to murder.” She continued coldly, “I truly don’t understand how you, as my enemies, find so much amusement and self-satisfaction in all this.”
Back then, when Second Master Cheng resigned from his post and returned to his hometown, he had essentially abandoned his foolish daughter at the Taoist temple.
After Old Madam Zhou passed away, Master Zhou also pretended to forget and stopped the provisions to the temple.
When the Cheng family later asked how she and her maid had managed to return, Ban Qin claimed that Old Madam Zhou had left them a large sum of money. At the time, everyone believed it—until Ban Qin later admitted it was all a lie, just an excuse to fend off questions.
A feeble-minded girl, an orphan, with only a weak servant by her side—abandoned in a strange land, her fate would indeed have been nothing but death…
Zhou Liu-lang’s expression darkened, his face paling slightly.
Just as the girl had said: when bystanders ignore someone in peril, they cannot be blamed, for they bear no duty of care. But when relatives—especially direct kin—turn a blind eye to such danger, it is no different from murder.
At least, in this girl’s heart, it was unquestionably murder.
They were her family. And precisely because of that, they were also her enemies.
This girl!
If anyone dared claim Xiang Qi’s death wasn’t her doing, even ghosts wouldn’t believe it!
Zhou Liu-lang looked up, only to see Cheng Jiao-niang’s carriage already departing.
“An angry woman is truly terrifying,” he muttered under his breath.
