[“I know who killed Su Manli.”]

Huo Zhenye glanced at Song Jingnan — this second murder had happened far too quickly.

When cases occur in such quick succession, it’s likely that the perpetrator isn’t the same person. It could be a copycat crime, or accomplices acting in turn. Still, he merely raised his eyebrows and said nothing.

By the time Huo Zhenye walked out of the police station, not a single reporter remained at the door — they had all rushed off to dig into the details of Su Manli’s murder.

Some of them were even drafting headlines on the run. Even without confirmed details, they could still write something and get it printed quickly.

“Royal Candidates Meet Tragic Ends at Wicked Hands” — what could grab attention better than a scandalous and mysterious murder?

Huo Zhenye called for a rickshaw and handed the puller a silver dollar. “Your cart for the day.”

The rickshaw puller was overjoyed — one silver dollar could buy thirty to forty catties of rice, enough to feed his family for half a month. He quickly wiped down the seat with a towel. “Young master, just say the word.”

“Wait here. Don’t move until I say.”

After a while, Liu Da came out of the police station. He was shoved through the doors, seemingly at a loss for where to go next.

Huo Zhenye saw a young man who looked somewhat like Liu Da rush up and throw his arms around him. “Brother! It’s over. Let’s go home!”

Huo Zhenye’s heart stirred — how did he arrive so quickly?

Liu Da was injured, and Liu Er had brought a flatbed cart, complete with a quilt spread on it. Liu Da lay down, and Liu Er pushed him home.

Huo Zhenye’s rickshaw followed slowly behind the two brothers until they reached the entrance of an alleyway in the old city.

He told the rickshaw puller to wait and quietly followed the brothers, weaving through several winding turns until they entered a small courtyard.

Though small, the courtyard was neatly kept. A trellis in the corner bloomed with white flowers shaped like tiny trumpets, swaying gently in the breeze.

Below the trellis were five or six bamboo trays filled with drying bamboo shoots and vegetables, giving the whole courtyard a lived-in, cozy feel.

Liu Er helped Liu Da through the gate, shouting loudly, “Senior Sister! Senior Sister! We’re back! My brother’s okay!”

The joy in his voice couldn’t be hidden.

From inside, a woman in white with a white flower in her hair stepped out, surprised. “They found the real killer?”

Liu Er shook his head. “The killer struck again. Senior Brother is innocent.” As he spoke, he carried Liu Da inside and placed him on the bed.

Han Zhu stood stunned for a moment, then came to her senses and retrieved medicinal wine and ointment to treat Liu Da’s wounds.

Huo Zhenye guessed this must be Han Zhu, Liu Da’s fiancée, the only daughter of Master Han.

Unlike Jin Dangui’s voluptuous beauty, Han Zhu was delicate and slender, with gentle eyes and arched brows. Even her voice was soft and low: “Thank the heavens. I’ll go buy a fish to make soup and nourish him.”

“I’ll go instead — I’ll also bring back a doctor. Senior Sister, you stay here and keep Senior Brother company,” Liu Er said, then turned to his brother with a serious look. “Brother, while you were locked up, Senior Sister cried every day. Now that you’re finally out, you mustn’t let her down again.”

Liu Da’s eyes regained some clarity at last. He grasped his brother’s hand tightly, as if to speak, then swallowed the words.

Liu Er continued, “It must have been Master watching over you, to get you safely out of there.”

At the mention of “Master’s spirit,” Liu Da felt a jolt in his chest, reminded of the poisonous oath he had made at his master’s deathbed.

At that time, Master Han was already terminally ill, so thin he looked like dry kindling, lying in bed with cloudy eyes fixed on him, waiting for his final vow.

Liu Da had said those vows so many times he could recite them in his sleep. He and his brother were orphans, taken in by Master Han, who fed them and raised them.

At first, he’d meant those words sincerely. But after saying them so often, they lost meaning. As long as Master liked hearing them, he’d say them again and again, raising three fingers to the sky, swearing before the sun and moon:

“I, Liu Da, will be loyal to Senior Sister Han Zhu for life. I will work with her and my junior brother to carry forward the legacy of the Branch of Colors. If I break this oath, may I suffer the torment of having my eyes gouged out and tongue cut off!”

In their line of work, the body was their livelihood. A broken hand or foot might still allow them to work — but to lose sight or speech was to lose their way of life entirely.

Master Han had gripped his daughter’s hand tightly. Only after hearing that vow did he finally close his eyes in peace.

When Jin Dangui’s eyes were gouged out and her earrings went missing, Liu Da had remembered his oath and thought it was their master’s spirit manifesting.

But now, with another beauty murdered, he realized it had only been his own delusion — and with that, his spirit began to return.

Liu Da responded dully, clearly distracted, but whenever he thought about marrying Han Zhu, an unexplainable sense of revulsion welled up in him. The image of Jin Dangui’s alluring face would float to mind, making Han Zhu seem plain and tasteless by comparison.

As they spoke, Han Zhu stood silently by the doorway, her eyes fixed on Liu Da’s face. Every subtle shift in his expression, she caught clearly.

Lowering her gaze, she looked somewhat heartbroken. “I prayed night and day before Father’s spirit, hoping he would bless us three disciples.”

Liu Da forced a smile. “Thank you, Senior Sister, for worrying about me. The three of us should just live our lives well from now on.”

Liu Er looked from Liu Da to Han Zhu, grinning from ear to ear. “Good, good. I’ll go buy some extra food — let’s have a proper meal today.”

Han Zhu placed the medicine on the bedside. “You know what’s good for healing injuries? Better let me go buy the groceries and get a doctor. You tend to his wounds.”

Turning to go out, she spotted Huo Zhenye standing just outside. During the days Liu Da was locked up, their home hadn’t known peace — reporters came to the courtyard daily.

Han Zhu had said nothing, but the papers still ran stories accusing Liu Da of betrayal, portraying her as a heartbroken woman scorned. She never showed mercy to those types.

Noting Huo Zhenye’s refined appearance, she saw he didn’t look like a journalist. “Sir, who are you looking for?”

“I’m here to see Mr. Liu,” Huo Zhenye replied as he ducked into the low-ceilinged house.

Han Zhu didn’t recognize him, but Liu Er did. Huo Zhenye’s photo had appeared in the papers several times. Upon seeing him, Liu Er immediately tried to drive him out. “What are you doing here?”

Huo Zhenye gave him a cool glance. “If not for me, your senior brother would never have lived to see a second murder.”

Liu Da, seeing him, immediately remembered their exchange in the interrogation room. Fearing he might bring up the matter of the earrings, he quickly sat up and spoke politely: “Young Master Huo, please have a seat.”

Liu Er bit down his anger and stormed out, flinging aside the curtain. Han Zhu followed him. “Little Liu, where are you going?”

“I’m going grocery shopping! I can’t stand that young master’s face.” Liu Er raised his voice, and Han Zhu pulled him aside to the flower trellis.

The white flowers bloomed in clusters, swaying like strings of silver bells in the breeze. Han Zhu tugged gently at Liu Er’s sleeve. “Your senior brother survived this far in part because this gentleman wouldn’t casually take a human life.”

She glanced through the window at Huo Zhenye. She’d thought he was just a spoiled rich boy — turns out he had a conscience.

Liu Er looked like he wanted to say something but didn’t. His face flushed red. “Senior sister, don’t you ever trust the smooth words of people like him.”

Han Zhu gave a calming smile. “Of course I know. But he’s still a guest now that he’s here. I’ll make some tea. You go slice some preserved meat, and buy a black carp and a piece of tofu. I’ll stew some soup.”

Liu Er nodded and headed out — only to run right into Bai Zhun.

“Seventh Master! What brings you here?” Liu Er hurriedly ushered Bai Zhun into the house.

Bai Zhun covered his mouth and nose with a handkerchief. The Han family’s small courtyard sat in the old town’s slums, inhabited by all sorts of people. The more mixed the crowd, the stronger the stench. After just one trip, he felt like he’d been choked half to death by the smell.

Though he’d come in person, his face was full of displeasure. He asked dully, “Where’s your senior brother?”

Huo Zhenye had sharp ears. He’d heard every word Liu Er and Han Zhu exchanged out in the courtyard, but he remained impassive, pulling a chair over to sit beside Liu Da’s bed.

He hadn’t even spoken yet when he heard Bai Zhun’s voice — and then caught the familiar scent of sandalwood.

Bai Zhun entered in his wheelchair. The moment he spotted Huo Zhenye inside the room, his face darkened further. He lifted his brows and smirked mockingly. “What are you doing here?”

His business is already concluded — so why hasn’t this guy rolled back to his cozy life of luxury? What is he doing meddling here?

Huo Zhenye didn’t remember exactly where or when he’d met Bai Zhun before, but there was a strange sense of familiarity. He replied shamelessly, “I’m curious about who the killer is — thought I’d come stick my nose in.”

“Stick your nose in, and you just might lose your eyes.” Bai Zhun said coldly, with more than a hint of warning.

No one had expected Bai Zhun to know Huo Zhenye. Liu Da struggled to sit up in bed and respectfully cupped his fists. “Seventh Master.”

Huo Zhenye raised an eyebrow at that — so this guy is also a Seventh Master.

Liu Er stepped in behind and explained to Liu Da, “Senior brother, it was Seventh Master who gave us money to pull strings. Without him, who knows how much more suffering you’d have gone through.”

That small pouch of silver dollars had been of great use. Liu Da had only suffered some superficial wounds — no bones broken. As for anything else, Liu Er wouldn’t bring it up again.

Liu Da listened and felt genuinely grateful. He tried to get out of bed to kneel and kowtow to Bai Zhun, but the moment he moved, pain shot through his wound and his face twisted in agony. “Many thanks, Seventh Master. I will never forget your great kindness.”

But Bai Zhun wasn’t here to listen to flattery — and he didn’t believe any of it either.

Liu Da surprisingly spoke up again, “Even if Seventh Master hadn’t come, I would’ve gone to beg you myself… I want to know who killed her! Please, Seventh Master—tell me who the murderer is!”

*Clang!* A crisp crash rang out. Everyone turned toward the sound.

Han Zhu stood pale-faced at the door, tea leaves and shards of porcelain scattered across the floor. She’d been carrying a teapot and teacup inside when she overheard Liu Da’s words. Her hands had trembled—and she dropped the teapot.

Liu Da was still startled, but Liu Er had already leapt up. “Senior Sister, are you alright?”

He hurried over to check whether Han Zhu had been hurt, but she just shook her head silently.

Huo Zhenye glanced from one person to the next, eyes glinting with amusement. He was here for the drama, the messier the better. He even gave Bai Zhun a knowing look.

Liu Er was already furious. “Senior Brother! That woman caused you so much pain while she was alive—how can you still be thinking about her?!”

Han Zhu’s face turned ashen as she turned and left. Liu Er quickly followed to comfort her.

The two stood under the flower trellis—Han Zhu seated, Liu Er crouching beside her. He whispered, “Senior Sister, don’t be upset. Today’s a good day. The three of us are finally together again.”

Back inside, Liu Da’s eyes burned as he stared at Bai Zhun, desperate to hear what he wanted to know.

Bai Zhun found it amusing. Would Liu Da still be so obsessed with Jin Dangui if he saw how she looked in death?

“What’s the rush?” Bai Zhun said lazily. “There’s only a few nights left. Jin Dangui will come find you soon enough.” He took out an envelope. “Put this under your pillow. When she comes, it’ll be useful.”

But Liu Da didn’t take it. He had been more favored by Master Han than Liu Er was, and he knew more about the secrets of the Seventh Branch. He’d heard Master Han mention Bai Zhun’s abilities—how he could communicate with the dead.

“This thing… is it meant to trap her?”

Bai Zhun caught his reluctance and let out a cold laugh. “What? You don’t want to?”

“No, no…” Liu Da’s gaze flickered. He didn’t dare anger Bai Zhun, afraid he might really bind Jin Dangui’s spirit.

‘If he’s that eager to die, I won’t stop him,’ Bai Zhun thought.

He glanced at Huo Zhenye, who immediately followed him out. As they passed by Han Zhu and Liu Er under the trellis, Huo Zhenye gave Han Zhu a friendly smile.

Liu Er was guarding Han Zhu like a wolf. The moment Huo Zhenye glanced her way, Liu Er stood up and blocked his view.

Huo Zhenye just smiled. “I was admiring the flowers, that’s all.”

He looked up at the trellis full of silver bell–shaped blossoms. Han Zhu politely replied, “It’s called Zuixin ^[1] Drunken Heart Flower.”

Bai Zhun’s wheelchair had already rolled to the courtyard gate. Huo Zhenye jogged to catch up and called out twice, “Hey! Slow down! Wait for me!”

In just a few quick steps, he was walking beside the wheelchair. “I know who killed Su Manli. Don’t tell me you don’t know?”

Bai Zhun rolled forward without slowing. “What the hell does that have to do with me?”