[Spring beds are truly wonderful]

The citywide manhunt for Liu Er had been ongoing for two days, but there was still no trace of him at the docks, stations, or brothels.

Meanwhile, Huo Zhenye had been shamelessly making himself comfortable at the Bai residence for two full days. On the first night, he’d slept on a bamboo bed, but by the second, he’d brought in a spring mattress.

Bai Zhun got angry at the pile of iron: “What is this thing? Throw it out!”

All sorts of ridiculous things were being dragged into his house. Bai Zhun shot a glance at Huo Zhenye, thinking he might as well throw this person out too.

Huo Zhenye scooped him up. “Just try it! Way more comfortable than that wooden bed of yours. The springs support your back.”

Bai Zhun twitched his fingers—Lord Yue’s silver spear was about to stab Huo Zhenye in the back—but the next moment, his whole body sank softly down, as if lying on a pile of feathers.

Lord Yue’s spear froze midair.

Bai Zhun was indeed lying in a feather pile—the bed had springs, and the pillow and mattress were stuffed with goose down. Lying in it, he no longer felt the wooden bed was too hard or uncomfortable to roll over on.

He pressed the pillow with his hand, and Huo Zhenye helped him sit up. “Well? More comfortable?”

Huo Zhenye had heard every creak of Bai Zhun turning over at night. No matter how many layers of cotton padding he added, it would never match the softness of goose feathers.

Bai Zhun sank into the down pillow, lazily raised his fingers, and a string of paper servants filed in. They lifted a corner of the spring bed and carried it into the room, even closing the door behind them.

Soon, the wooden bed was carried out and set in the courtyard.

“You can have this bed,” Bai Zhun’s voice came from inside the room. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was ready to sleep—crafting the paper boat had taken a toll on him.

Hands on his hips, Huo Zhenye muttered, this man really doesn’t know how to say thank you even after being given such a gift.

But thinking about it again, he couldn’t stay mad. He called out, “What do you want for dinner?”

There was no reply. Huo Zhenye walked to the door and peeked through the crack. Bai Zhun was curled up on the goose feather pillow, hair splayed across the back of his head, looking too comfortable to speak.

Bai Zhun stayed wrapped up with the bed all day. When Huo Zhenye brought dinner home this night, he still refused to get up.

Huo Zhenye tapped the edge of the bowl. “Dinner’s ready! You can’t just stay holed up in that room. At least come out for a bit, even if you’re in the wheelchair.”

Soon, there was movement inside the room. Huo Zhenye looked up—and burst out laughing.

Bai Zhun was still lying in bed as four paper servants lifted the bed, carried him out for a loop, then carried him back in—he didn’t even open his eyes the whole time.

There was no helping it. In the end, Huo Zhenye had to serve him milk-soaked butter biscuits. Whatever kids ate, Bai Zhun ate too.

Huo Zhenye could tell he was completely drained. Aside from Ah Xiu, the house was filled with paper figures, and Ah Xiu didn’t understand worldly matters at all. With no one to take care of him, Huo Zhenye had to do it himself.

Bai Zhun nibbled on the milk-soaked cookies.

Huo Zhenye asked, “Want me to make a cushion for your bamboo chair too? Maybe add a drawer or something, so you can carry things more easily when you go out?”

“I don’t go out,” said Seventh Master Bai. Then he burrowed back into the covers.

Spring beds were truly wonderful.
Even foreigners did have some fun inventions after all.

The 20th of the month. Dense fog. The 100th-day memorial for Master Han.

Han Zhu pushed a handcart out of the city. On the cart were several bamboo baskets filled with silver paper ingot offerings she had folded.

Passersby saw what she was pushing and the mourning clothes she wore and understood that she was a filial daughter heading out of the city to pay respects at a grave.

Underneath those paper ingots was Liu Da, crushed beneath the pile. His eyes stared out through the gaps in the bamboo basket, unmoving. He hadn’t eaten in three days.

Whenever Han Zhu thought of him, she would give him a little water. When she didn’t, he wouldn’t even get a drop to drink.

She wasn’t torturing him for amusement. In her eyes, he was already a dead man. She had even prepared a straw mat for him right in front of his face.

Once the mat was laid out, Han Zhu finally spoke to him: “After all, we grew up together. You deserve at least a straw mat.”

Liu Da looked at Han Zhu with pleading eyes, but she remained unmoved. She even smiled a little and said, “You’re much more obedient now that you can’t speak.”

Liu Da’s fingers and toes had just begun to move slightly. His heart surged with joy, but he dared not show a trace of it. Every day, he secretly exercised his limbs whenever Han Zhu wasn’t looking.

He had to escape. He had to get as far away from Han Zhu as possible. This woman was more terrifying than any ghost.

Han Zhu pushed the cart to the burial ground where her father was laid to rest. It was called a cemetery, but it was really just a desolate patch of land, surrounded by mounds of graves. When Master Han was buried, she had planted a tree there and tied a white cloth to its trunk.

Han Zhu looked around. The cloth fluttered in the wind. She lowered her head and said to Liu Da, “Look, Father is waiting for us.”

By now, Liu Da had regained strength from his toes up to his calves. He knew today was his last chance to escape, so he stayed quiet and compliant, not daring to move.

Han Zhu lifted Liu Da off the cart and set him in a kneeling position. “Come, kowtow to my father.”

Liu Da pretended to be limp, letting her position him as he silently surveyed the surroundings for a way to escape.

Han Zhu placed spiced meat and rice wine in front of her father’s grave, lit incense, and bowed three times before the headstone. Kneeling, she said, “Father, I’ve come to see you.”

Then, glancing at Liu Da, she held up the incense toward the headstone and said, “Your daughter no longer wishes to marry Liu Da, and I’ve specially invited Seventh Master Bai to bear witness and annul the engagement.”

Liu Da was briefly elated—is she going to let him go? But the next moment, his heart sank. She wants to annul the engagement so she wouldn’t be known as his widow after he dies.

Han Zhu first burned the silver paper ingots before the grave, then set a paper flower basket ablaze for her father. Hearing a wheelchair behind her, she knew Bai Zhun had arrived.

A goose feather pillow was placed behind Bai Zhun in the wheelchair, and a light velvet blanket covered his lap. Ah Xiu held an umbrella for him. In his hand, he carried a bottle of orange soda.

He sipped from a straw, taking slow, small sips.

Huo Zhenye followed behind Bai Zhun. Anyone unaware might’ve thought the two young masters were just out on a countryside stroll.

The entire cemetery, surrounded by grave mounds, was already surrounded by plainclothes constables. A few other mourners were scattered among the graves.

Thick fog dulled the sunlight, leaving the scene shrouded in white mist. Only the quiet mounds lay still. Mourners carrying bamboo baskets weaved through the graves.

At a glance, it looked like a group of headless corpses wandering among the graves, impossible to tell who was human and who was ghost.

Huo Zhenye scanned the area but couldn’t spot Liu Er. He didn’t know if the man would even show up today.

Han Zhu, seeing that Bai Zhun had arrived, pulled the marriage contract from her sleeve and respectfully handed it to him with both hands. “Seventh Master, please bear witness.”

At this moment, Bai Zhun exuded the calm dignity of a senior. He nodded slightly and first offered incense to Master Han.

As the incense smoke rose, a gray shadow appeared beside the tombstone. That shadow nodded at Bai Zhun.

Bai Zhun then used the incense to ignite the marriage contract. Letting go, he released it into the wind. The white paper with black characters swirled through the air as it burned, circling above Master Han’s grave until it turned entirely to ash.

“Your father agrees.”

Master Han stood beside his own grave, catching the contract his daughter had burned for him. His tiger-like palm snapped it in two, his gaze fixed on Liu Da. The immortal cord tied at his waist trembled faintly.

Han Zhu pressed down on Liu Da’s head. “Bow three times to my father.”

Liu Da’s head was forced to the ground. Each of the three kowtows was harsh and heavy. He grit his teeth and stayed motionless.

As he lowered his head, he caught a glint of cold light from Han Zhu’s sleeve—upon closer look, it was a sharp silver ear pick. Suddenly, he understood. She had used that very thing to gouge out Jin Dangui’s eyes—and she intended to gouge out his too.

After pressing Liu Da to finish the kowtows, Han Zhu stood up and began to burn paper flower pots and ritual boats.

Liu Da’s cheek was pressed against the ground, and just as the flames shot up with a loud whoosh, he pushed himself up with his palms. His arms had regained strength. Though his legs were still numb and he nearly fell, he managed to stumble several steps away using both hands and feet.

Huo Zhenye was just about to move, but Bai Zhun stopped him. “No need for you.”

Sure enough, a figure suddenly leapt out of the mist and blocked Liu Da’s path.

“Brother.”

Liu Da cried out in delight. He pointed to his throat, then at Han Zhu, tugging at his younger brother’s sleeve to signal that Han Zhu wanted to kill him.

His face even lit up with a smile. With the two of them together, could they not take down this crazy woman?

But Liu Er only stared at his brother’s face. “If you can move now, why didn’t you bow properly to Master?”

Liu Er had always admired his older brother—he was quick to learn everything, loved by their master, adored by their senior sister, and even inherited the sect’s main teachings.

But he just wouldn’t live a decent life.

“You used to say our lives were given to us by Master. When Master asked if you were willing to marry Senior Sister, you swore and vowed that day was the happiest of your life. Did you mean it?”

Liu Da sensed something was wrong and tried to retreat—but Han Zhu was right behind him.

Liu Er continued pressing forward, “You said the three of us would live well together. You said you’d carry on the legacy of the Branch of Colors, and make those old fogies see that even if Master’s gone, they still couldn’t look down on us.”

Liu Er advanced step by step. Liu Da backed away step by step, desperate to explain—but not a single word could come out.

Liu Er finally glanced at Han Zhu. Though his eyes were on her, his question was for Liu Da. “We had a good life ahead of us. Why wouldn’t you live it? Why did you have to lie?”

As his words fell, the silver blade pierced Liu Da’s chest. Only then did Liu Er look directly at his brother.

Word by word, he asked, “Why wouldn’t you!”

The moment the knife struck, Huo Zhenye pulled out his gun—but before he could fire, a shot rang out. The officers lying in ambush had already shot Liu Er in the leg.

But Liu Er never intended to run. He pulled out the small knife, watched Liu Da collapse, and took a few steps toward Master Han’s grave.

As he moved, he was shot again.

This time, Liu Er couldn’t hold on and fell to the ground. Crawling on hands and knees, he made his way to Master’s grave and bowed his head, his body trembling.

His cheek rested on the fresh grass atop the grave mound, eyes turning toward Han Zhu. His mouth moved, but no sound came. He was only mouthing the words: “Senior Sister.”

Han Zhu collapsed in tears, clutching his shoulders. “Little Liu!”

Liu Er did not move. At the end, a faint smile appeared on his face—he hadn’t let his senior sister dirty her own hands.

The moment Liu Da leapt up, Huo Zhenye had already shielded Bai Zhun behind him. Bai Zhun could only hear the sounds, unable to see what was happening. In frustration, he grabbed a bamboo stick and whacked Huo Zhenye aside.

Several plainclothes officers emerged from behind various grave mounds. Da Tou ran up to Huo Zhenye and reported, “Young Master Huo! You won’t believe it—we circled this graveyard several times just now, but we didn’t see a single trace of Liu Er.”

If it weren’t broad daylight, they’d have thought they were seeing ghosts.

Two constables confirmed whether Liu Da and Liu Er were still alive. Both brothers were already completely dead. They had to carry the bodies back for proper identification before the case could be closed.

Han Zhu knelt at the grave, finally breaking down in tears, weeping uncontrollably.

The flames gently licked the paper boat; the boat’s sail and hull instantly caught fire and were fully ablaze in moments. Sparks flew, and the paper boat seemed to float a little.

When the boat was burned to ashes, the smoke and ash swirled in the air and reassembled into the whole boat again.

Liu Er knelt before Master Han’s grave. Master Han reached out to stroke Liu Er’s head and sighed heavily. The master and disciple then joined hands and boarded the boat.

Liu Da’s soul tried to escape, but Master Han shook the immortal cord at his waist, which caught Liu Da’s neck. The rope tightened and dragged him onto the boat.

Master Han cast one last glance at his daughter, then looked longingly at Bai Zhun.

Bai Zhun remained still for a long moment. As the boat was about to set sail, he slowly closed his eyes—signaling his consent.

Huo Zhenye noticed Bai Zhun staring blankly at the sky. After a while, Bai Zhun gave a slight gesture. Huo Zhenye lowered his body to meet Bai Zhun’s gaze and followed his line of sight.

The sky was thick with fog; only the wind stirred the floating paper ashes. He saw nothing and asked, “What are you looking at?”

Bai Zhun withdrew his gaze and yawned. His rheumatism was acting up. “Hurry up, let’s go.” He wanted to go home and sleep on his spring bed.

Da Tou secretly studied Bai Zhun. “Who still keeps their hair nowadays? Even the old and young have cut their queues. Besides, this man looks too handsome.”

Hearing how Bai Zhun spoke to Huo Zhenye, Da Tou was even more surprised. This Young Master Huo was someone the chief constable admired, yet Bai Zhun was so casual and commanding.

Yet Huo Zhenye listened to him.

“What do you want for dinner tonight? How about lotus leaf steamed pork? Lotus leaf reduces heat, and steamed pork is tender. It’s easy for you to digest.”

“You mean I have a bad temper?” Bai Zhun objected but then thought it over and nodded, reluctantly agreeing. “Okay, that works.”

Da Tou stood with his mouth slightly open, watching Young Master Huo grin like a blooming trumpet flower. Remembering the matter at hand, he hurried after them and asked, “Young Master Huo, will you still be visiting the police station?”

Huo Zhenye didn’t even turn his head but waved his hand dismissively. “Maybe some other time!”

After walking a few steps, Huo Zhenye asked, “Did you know all along?”—that the three would perish together, so the ritual boat only had three seats.

Bai Zhun lazily yawned. “Stop nagging.”