Qian Jiaoniang and Xing Pingchun stepped outside and looked up. A large eagle circled in the sky above, its feathers pitch black, its wings broad and long. A long, clear whistle rang out—and the eagle dived, heading toward the back of the courtyard. Xing Pingchun rushed back into the room to open the window, Qian Jiaoniang close behind. Together they watched the eagle descend and land steadily on a long outstretched arm.
That arm belonged to none other than Xing Muzheng.
Qian Jiaoniang had never seen such a large and beautiful eagle before. She was just entranced by it when suddenly, both the man and the eagle turned their sharp, piercing gazes on her. Her heart clenched with alarm.
“Mother, Father really does have an eagle!” Xing Pingchun cried in surprise. “And it’s black!”
“That’s a eagle falcon,” Qingya said, appearing quietly behind them and gazing at the bird. “They say among ten thousand eagles, only one becomes a falcon—a divine bird. If you committed a capital crime, but managed to catch one and offer it to the court, even the death sentence could be pardoned.”
“Waaah—” That eagle was way too powerful! As expected of his father’s eagle!
Xing Muzheng hooked a finger to scratch under his beloved eagle Lielei’s chin. Lielei flapped its wings and let out two low coos. Xing Muzheng removed a small rolled-up secret letter from the eagle’s leg. He didn’t open it, just tucked it into his waistband. He instructed Li Qing to fetch some meat to feed the eagle. As Li Qing walked off, Ah Da came over, leading a horse and hitching it to the carriage.
“Cousin, you can’t do this!” Tian Yongzhang finally snapped out of it and began shouting loudly.
Tian Bilian had already been frightened several paces back by Lielei. Hearing this, she also shouted, “That’s right, cousin, you can’t cremate our parents!”
Qian Jiaoniang was startled. She leaned in to listen and heard Xing Muzheng outside saying, “Why not cremate them? I heard your father say the Tian family relocated entirely to Yeshan a few years ago. If you want to take your parents back for burial, it’s a long, arduous journey. How will you manage dragging two coffins there?”
“But—but the matter hasn’t even been investigated yet…”
“Tian Yongzhang!” Xing Muzheng suddenly roared, “Watch your loose tongue! Is my wife someone you can slander at will?”
Tian Yongzhang trembled in fear.
“Twenty years old and still a useless fool! Your parents died, and now you insist someone must be buried with them? Hasn’t my wife treated you well all along? What is your intent?” Xing Muzheng’s voice was cold and sharp. “Either cremate your parents now and I’ll give you and your sister travel money to return home—or leave the corpses here and wait for an investigation. But if I find a single lie in your words, you’ll pay for it dearly!”
Tian Yongzhang was scared out of his wits. If his cousin really investigated, he and his sister would be finished. He quickly said, “Cousin, don’t be angry—I’ll do whatever you say!”
Tian Bilian stamped her foot anxiously. Why had her brother given in so fast? Didn’t that just make them look guilty?
Xing Muzheng snorted heavily and waved his hand, signaling Ah Da to drag the bodies off for cremation.
Qian Jiaoniang stood straight by the window. Xing Muzheng turned his head and happened to meet her eyes. Their gazes locked in midair. Qian Jiaoniang’s face remained calm, but waves churned in her heart. She couldn’t read what lay behind Xing Muzheng’s eyes, nor understand the intent behind his actions.
Meanwhile, after attending the family’s mourning meal, Chen Zhuo returned home. His concubine Madam Liu came out and poured him a cup of hot tea. Chen Zhuo sat down and took a sip. The strange case of the couple’s sudden deaths still lingered in his mind. Holding the teacup, he thought it over repeatedly and still felt it wasn’t as simple as sudden death. Especially with the son of the deceased claiming Marchioness Dingxi had killed them… But if he truly wanted to investigate this case, he would first have to get past Marquis Dingxi himself. The Marquis clearly believed in his wife—if Chen Zhuo went again, he’d just be shut out again.
Unless… he found proof first.
After thinking for a long time, Chen Zhuo suddenly slammed down his teacup and stood up to go. Madam Liu hurried after him. “Where is Master going?”
Chen Zhuo untied the horse from the tether stone and mounted in one swift motion. “To Qixia Mountain!”
By the time Chen Zhuo arrived at Qixia Mountain, the sun had already set. The evening light bathed the mountain in desolate stillness. The cawing of crows echoed through the forest, adding an eerie touch. Chen Zhuo climbed swiftly up the mountain, heading toward the Xing family tombs from memory. As he neared, there was suddenly a flurry of sharp bird cries—not crows, but more like the shriek of a hawk.
How could there be a hawk in this mountain? Just as Chen Zhuo was mocking his own imagination, a dark figure swooped down from the trees. Massive black wings flashed before his eyes—Chen Zhuo staggered back two steps, then focused and saw a tall figure in dark blue standing before the tomb.
A large black eagle circled once and landed steadily on that person’s shoulder. The eagle turned its head, its gleaming eyes staring at Chen Zhuo with a chilling gaze.
A chill crept through Chen Zhuo. Without thinking, his hand reached toward his waist—only to realize he hadn’t brought his sword.
The eagle’s master turned around, revealing a handsome, striking face. Chen Zhuo’s heart gave a jolt. He stepped forward, cupped his hands, and bowed. “This official Chen Zhuo greets the Marquis.”
The man standing before the tomb was indeed Dingxi Marquis, Xing Muzheng. He stood with hands behind his back as Lielei groomed its feathers on his shoulder. “No need for formalities, Constable Chen.”
Chen Zhuo straightened, raising his brows slightly in curiosity. Why had the Marquis come to the mountain again? But Xing Muzheng spoke first, calmly asking, “Constable Chen, what brings you to the mountain again?”
Chen Zhuo replied, “This official was careless—while climbing the mountain earlier, I dropped my pouch. I came back along the same path to search… May I ask, Marquis, what brings you here again?”
Xing Muzheng pointed toward the dead animal near the tomb. “I also forgot something.”
Chen Zhuo looked—it was the rooster that had been sacrificed during the ancestral rites. But for something as small as a dead rooster, the dignified Marquis had come himself? Was it that everyone else was busy with the funeral, or did the Marquis simply prefer doing things himself?
Chen Zhuo made a few polite remarks, then his gaze swept the ground. Suddenly, he said, “The wind sure is strong today.”
But Xing Muzheng clearly wasn’t interested in small talk. “If you’re looking for your pouch, Constable Chen, then go on.”
Chen Zhuo quickly responded, “Yes, this official won’t disturb the Marquis further.”
He made a show of searching as he headed farther up the mountain, and once a fair distance away, he ducked behind a large boulder to hide. Through the dense tree shadows, he could still barely make out Xing Muzheng’s figure.
