Cheng Jiao-niang’s carriage did not head directly back to Yudai Bridge but instead turned onto a certain street, slowing its pace as it moved forward.
Peering through the carriage curtain, one could see a gray-stone government office across the way, devoid of any plaque, with only sparse foot traffic. The early autumn afternoon carried a somber, almost austere air.
This was a small prison under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of War.
“Miss, is there really no way for us to go in and see?” Ban Qin couldn’t help but whisper.
“No way,” replied Cheng Jiao-niang.
Even Master Zhou had been unable to gain entry—there was certainly no chance for them.
Ban Qin sighed.
“I wonder how the young masters are faring here…” she murmured. “It’s already been three days…”
“They won’t be here much longer,” Cheng Jiao-niang said.
Ban Qin brightened with hope.
Cheng Jiao-niang glanced at her sudden cheer, her own expression indifferent, before letting the carriage curtain fall.
Miss was still unhappy…
Ban Qin swallowed her joy and lowered her head.
The carriage slowly rolled away.
Meanwhile, Zhou Liu-lang returned home and recounted the day’s events in detail to Master Zhou.
Upon hearing his son’s account, Master Zhou was both astonished and deeply contemplative.
“So it really was just that lowlife acting alone?” Master Zhou said, shaking his head in disbelief. “There was no one secretly behind it?”
Zhou Liu-lang shook his head.
“Truly no one,” he replied.
Master Zhou stroked his beard, hissing softly in thought.
“Just sheer bad luck, then…” he murmured.
However, when he heard that Xiang Qi had fallen to his death in the street, Master Zhou reacted just as Zhou Liu-lang had—he immediately assumed Cheng Jiao-niang was responsible.
“Honestly, that good-for-nothing wasn’t even worth bothering with anymore,” he said. “Yet she went ahead and killed him the moment he was identified…”
He shook his head disapprovingly.
“Such bloodthirst…” he muttered. “What’s done is done—what good does killing him achieve now?”
“No good. Just venting anger,” Zhou Liu-lang replied, and at this, he couldn’t help but grin slightly.
“Nonsense. Venting anger like this is pointless,” Master Zhou said, shaking his head. “At this stage, what’s the use of killing that worthless scoundrel?”
“Maybe sometimes actions don’t need to serve a purpose,” Zhou Liu-lang replied with a grin. “If it eases one’s temper and lifts the mood, that’s useful enough in itself.”
Though, judging by her demeanor, that girl’s mood hadn’t improved in the slightest…
Killing Xiang Qi didn’t mark the end of the matter—in fact, it could be said that things had barely begun. And as for how they would unfold, it was almost entirely beyond their control.
This time, they had truly stumbled into a grave predicament.
Zhou Liu-lang’s smile faded, his expression darkening.
What could be done now?
While he hesitated, a servant entered from outside.
“Young Master, Young Master Qin is here,” the servant announced.
Zhou Liu-lang stood up.
“He must have heard about it too,” he said with a slight smile.
That fellow was clever—perhaps he had some good ideas about this matter.
“Liu-lang,” Master Zhou called out to stop him. “Regarding this incident and our speculations, don’t go into too much detail with Young Master Qin.”
Zhou Liu-lang paused, turning back to look at his father.
Master Zhou’s expression was grave.
“He is no longer the crippled boy of the Qin family. Now that he has recovered and with his sharp mind, he is surely destined for an official career,” he said. “Liu-lang, whether we like it or not, this desertion incident will likely drag us in. It’s still unclear whether we’ll stand with Grand Coordinator Gao and Wang Butang’s faction or Minister Chen’s side.”
Zhou Liu-lang’s expression shifted, his lips parting slightly as if to speak, but no words came out.
“And the Qin family—they are imperial relatives, though it’s still unclear whether they stand with the Empress Dowager’s faction or another,” Master Zhou continued, looking at him. “In short, nothing is certain yet. So, some matters should be hinted at but not discussed in depth.”
Some matters should be hinted at but not discussed in depth.
Zhou Liu-lang stood frozen for a moment before finally uttering an “Mm” and turning to leave.
Unlike his usual brisk stride, he walked slowly this time. By the time he reached the courtyard, Young Master Qin—who had grown impatient waiting—was already laughing and chatting with the maids as they plucked leaves and flowers.
Just like before, he always enjoyed experimenting with the courtyard’s plants as if they were tea ingredients, though none of his brews had ever been drinkable.
No—not quite like before. In the past, he would point and direct the maids to pick them for him. Now, he gathered them himself.
Under the shimmering sunlight, the young man’s profile was like jade carved into perfection. His tall, straight frame stood poised, one hand smoothing his wide sleeve while the other plucked a half-bloomed flower, which he then brought to his nose for a delicate sniff.
If any other young man had struck such a pose, it might have seemed overly effeminate. But when Young Master Qin did it, there was an effortless grace to it.
Zhou Liu-lang stopped in his tracks, watching the young man laughing with the maids in the courtyard.
He is no longer the crippled boy of the Qin family…
His father’s words echoed in his ears.
The Qin family…
So he was from that Qin family—the imperial in-laws, the illustrious Qin clan.
Ever since they’d become acquainted, Zhou Liu-lang had simply called him “Shi’san,” or “Qin Sangzi” when annoyed. That “Qin” had just been a name to him—he’d nearly forgotten it represented a surname, one that carried immense prestige.
“Liu-lang, what are you staring at?”
Young Master Qin looked up and called out, tossing the flower in his hand to a maid.
Zhou Liu-lang strode forward.
“What nonsense are you up to now?” he said. “You insisted on planting these flowers yourself, only to ruin them recklessly.”
“What do you know? Letting them bloom untouched is the real waste. Making full use of them is best,” Young Master Qin replied with a laugh, draping an arm over his shoulder and pulling him closer. “Come, come—you must try this new tea recipe I’ve devised.”
“Save your ‘tea’ for the pigs,” Zhou Liu-lang scoffed.
Young Master Qin raised his hand and gave the back of Zhou Liu-lang’s head a light smack.
“Oh ho! You’ve grown bold enough to insult people indirectly now! All those scoldings from your cousin haven’t gone to waste…” he teased with a laugh.
“You’re the bold one—daring to hit me!” Zhou Liu-lang shouted, raising his own hand in retaliation.
But Young Master Qin had already skipped several steps away.
“Ha! Ha!” he laughed, nimble on his feet. “Can’t catch me—I can run now!”
Zhou Liu-lang spat in mock annoyance but couldn’t help chuckling as he stepped onto the veranda.
“Hey, have you heard about what happened at Tai Ping Residence?” Young Master Qin asked, vaulting effortlessly over the railing to land beside him.
Zhou Liu-lang nodded.
“I heard. I even went to see her,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “And I even helped her out.”
Young Master Qin looked both surprised and slightly displeased.
“You went by yourself without even calling me?” he said.
“Why would you need to be there? It’s our family’s affair,” Zhou Liu-lang retorted with a snort, flipping his sleeves as he sat down.
Young Master Qin settled opposite him, accepting a porcelain mortar and pestle handed by a maid.
“So what exactly happened?” he asked.
Amid the rhythmic thunk-thunk of the pestle, Zhou Liu-lang recounted the day’s events in detail.
“Was the fortune-teller you found too?” Young Master Qin interjected occasionally. “And after Xiang Qi was seized, it was your men who notified his family, right?”
“Of course,” Zhou Liu-lang nodded, then curled his lip. “We told the Dong family that Xiang Qi had been abducted in broad daylight. Even if he was just a live-in son-in-law—someone they could beat and scold at home—having him snatched outside was a slap to the Dong family’s face. That old man immediately stormed over with his men in a rage…”
Who would have thought this furious pursuit would panic the son-in-law so badly that he’d flee blindly and fall to his death?
“With so many coincidences lining up, she still claims Xiang Qi’s death had nothing to do with her? She really doesn’t even blink while lying anymore,” Zhou Liu-lang remarked.
Young Master Qin burst into laughter.
“But this really might just be a coincidence,” he said with a chuckle. “All we can say is she has good luck.”
Good luck? If she truly had good luck, she wouldn’t have been dragged into such a mess by some lowlife in the first place.
Zhou Liu-lang opened his mouth to retort but bit back the words at the last moment.
“Who knows,” he muttered vaguely. “She never speaks the truth anyway.”
Young Master Qin glanced at him.
“And then what?” he asked.
“She only asked for my help with that. Once it was done, I came back,” Zhou Liu-lang replied, accepting a cup of tea from a maid. “She’s probably secretly celebrating by now—she vented her anger and even got my father to intervene. Once he pulls some strings tomorrow, the whole thing will blow over.”
With that, he raised the teacup to his lips and took a sip.
Young Master Qin kept his head down, rhythmically pounding the flowers and leaves with a steady thud-thud.
“Not necessarily,” he said. Without giving Zhou Liu-lang a chance to respond, he turned to a maid nearby. “Go fetch the vinegar.”
Zhou Liu-lang drained his teacup in one gulp, exhaling slightly in relief.
“Let’s not talk about that for now,” he said. “I’ll be leaving soon, and there are a few bows I can’t take with me. Which one do you want?”
“Do I even have to choose?” Young Master Qin looked up, frowning. “Shouldn’t they all go to me?”
Zhou Liu-lang scoffed.
“In your dreams,” he retorted, leaping up to clap him on the shoulder. “Come on, hurry up.”
Laughing, Young Master Qin tossed aside the pestle and followed him.
Inside the room, the two young men’s banter, laughter, and occasional squabbles continued without pause.
