Chapter 71

Every year at this time, Zhang Yuehui would disappear for seven days.

During the family’s execution, he had fled the capital and couldn’t retrieve his family’s bodies.

He had a sister, who was only seven years old when the incident happened. She was like a little jade figurine, always sticking to him, calling him “brother” and running around the courtyard. His sister died in prison, supposedly poisoned by his stepmother.

The men of the family were beheaded, and the women were to be sent to the Imperial Music Bureau, becoming official slaves. The concubine felt that such a life was no better than being reborn.

If his sister were alive, he would certainly have the means to rescue her, but he could not blame the concubine for her decision at the time. Those who make decisions are the ones who suffer the most.

This guilt tormented him for many years.

He didn’t know why, but his family never appeared in his dreams. Why didn’t anyone come to tell him where their bones were abandoned, to give him a chance to fulfill his filial duties?

Was he always the one who couldn’t be relied upon in his family’s eyes?

Some things he would never get an answer to.

He could only search for high monks, set up memorial tablets for his family, construct pagodas, and recite scriptures millions of times before the Buddha, hoping that their souls would no longer wander in this world, but would cross over to the underworld and be reincarnated.

Year after year, this became a habit of Zhang Yuehui.

But deep down, he knew that these rituals, the dignity and grandeur, were merely a form of patching up a hole in the wall. It felt more like a consolation to himself—only at this time every year could he almost absurdly reunite with the names on the tablets.

He was a soul without a home, and no one could save him.

No… there was once.

But he abandoned that home and took a path that went against the norm. He hated the world in his heart, and that hatred drove him forward. And the person he had abandoned seemed to have vanished, never giving him any chance to make amends.

In the past, he had never made a wish.

He was born rebellious, and whatever he wanted to do, even if it was against the heavens, he would go ahead and do it—he didn’t need heaven’s help. But now, for the first time, he felt a sense of helplessness.

He knelt before the Buddha statue and made a wish.

The wish was to find her.

He didn’t know how long he had knelt, but when he got up to leave the hall, he saw the abbot standing outside, his palms pressed together in a greeting.

The abbot looked at him with a gaze that seemed to carry sympathy.

He said, “The most fair thing in this world is cause and effect. Missteps and accidents are the consequences the perpetrator must suffer.”

Zhang Yuehui was startled. Missteps and accidents? But what had he missed?

There was some hidden truth he could not grasp, but he felt a sense of unease, a ripple of discomfort deep in his chest.

A few days ago, Xie Que Shan had returned to Wang Xue Wu. His wounds had passed the most dangerous period and were slowly healing.

When new flesh grew, it always itched, but he could not scratch it, which often made him restless, constantly reminding him of the presence of the wound.

Sometimes, it was hard for him to tell whether the person who caused the wound or the wound itself was the one tormenting him.

However, it did not affect his actions. The plans that needed to be made were still in motion, and everything continued without disturbance.

The plans of the Candlelight Department were all focused on one thing—breaking down the Qi people’s military strength in Li Du Fu, so that King Ling’an could safely head south.

Song Mu Chuan was helping the Qi people build ships, with a vast amount of manpower and resources flowing through him. There were many hidden schemes involved, and Xie Que Shan didn’t need to take too many actions, just cover for him.

Xie Que Shan had thought that with Song Mu Chuan’s usual gentle and scholarly demeanor, his approach to things would be slow and deliberate. However, as soon as he took office, he was quite aggressive, using feints, sending Xie Zhu, and blowing up the mountain to protect the Yucheng Army with a brilliant escape strategy. All of these were carried out in a thrilling manner.

“Long absence, and now I must look at you with new eyes.” Deep inside, Xie Que Shan was pleased. He had previously underestimated Song Mu Chuan, and he was definitely a reliable and strong ally. But even he, a seasoned gambler, sometimes couldn’t help but feel anxious for Song Mu Chuan, fearing that he might act too hastily and reveal himself.

Fortunately, everything had remained calm during this time.

Until the invitation from Gui Lai Hall arrived.

After a few days of quiet, Hua Zhao Pavilion had once again returned to its usual bustling state. The second and third floors were all banquet halls, but the servant leading the way did not take Xie Que Shan upstairs. Instead, he led him deeper into the pavilion.

They entered a wine cellar, and opened the heaviest iron door at the farthest end. Behind the door was a dark and eerie passageway.

Soon, someone holding a candle came out to greet them—it was a subordinate of Zhang Yuehui.

Luo Ci cupped his hands and bowed respectfully. “Young Master Que Shan, Gui Lai Hall recently captured a Candlelight Department member. Due to the person’s special identity, we specially invite you to identify them.”

Xie Que Shan’s heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t figure out what trick this was. Which Candlelight Department member had they captured? He hadn’t heard of it. Cautiously, he followed Luo Ci inside, instinctively scanning his surroundings and realizing they were in a heavily guarded dungeon.

Luo Ci opened a small door, revealing a solitary room. There was a hidden window in the wall, through which he could see the other side.

Suddenly, he had an intuition that the scene behind that window was something he absolutely did not want to see. He paused, casually asking, “Where is the master?”

“The master has been indisposed lately,” Luo Ci said. “He wanted me to convey the message to you instead. The master said, to express his apologies, the intelligence today is free of charge.”

Luo Ci made a gesture, inviting Xie Que Shan to look through the hidden window.

Xie Que Shan’s hunting instincts told him that he was the prey in this moment. He could simply turn and leave, avoiding the trap, but some strange impulse pushed him forward to the window.

Then, his gaze was firmly caught by the scene before him.

Nan Yi was bound to the tiger bench, her body crisscrossed with horrifying whip marks. It looked as though she had been doused with cold water numerous times, and the blood and water in her hair had become matted together, covering her face in a disheveled manner.

At that moment, the executioner added a brick under her bound legs, causing her taut little legs to nearly bend backward.

Her head, which had been drooping, was suddenly jolted awake by the pain. She raised her head, mouth open, her body convulsing, as though there was a breath stuck in her throat, unable to rise or fall. The pain made it difficult for her to breathe, and she could only let out hoarse moans.

“This Candlelight Department member claims to be the young mistress of the Xie family. Does the young master recognize this person?”

Xie Que Shan’s gaze, filled with a murderous aura, swept over Luo Ci. He almost lost all rational thought as he swiftly gripped Luo Ci’s throat.

He had set such a large trap, nearly risking his own life, just to ensure her safety—how dare they! How dare they treat her this way! Where is Song Mu Chuan?! Is this how they’re treating him too?

“You dare to touch someone from the Xie family?!”

Luo Ci’s face turned pale as Xie Que Shan tightened his grip on his throat, but Luo Ci quickly reached for a thin rope on the wall. The sound of a bronze bell rang out, and heavily armed guards rushed in, taking their positions at the door, ready for confrontation.

However, Xie Que Shan showed no sign of loosening his grip. At that moment, anyone who approached him would likely be crushed by his rage.

Luo Ci struggled to speak, “Young master, don’t you remember? ...She’s the person from the Bing Chu Si who stabbed you on Shang Yuan Night. The Gui Lai Tang... has captured her... Why are you so angry?”

Why is he angry? Why is he angry? Why is he angry?!

The question finally tore apart his mind, allowing the last thread of rationality to break through.

Earlier, he had claimed that a member of Bing Chu Si had wounded him, and from their words, he had discovered the location of the Yucheng army, narrowly escaping and returning to Lidu City.

He didn’t know how Nan Yi had been exposed or what she had confessed under such severe torture, but if Gui Lai Tang was so certain that she had stabbed him on Huniu Mountain, then he had to consider her his enemy to keep up the lie.

Once he realized this, Xie Que Shan immediately understood that Gui Lai Tang was testing his stance through Nan Yi.

His stance was a heavy secret. In the hands of the Qi people, it could be sold for a high price and also place him in danger.

If he showed too much care for her, he would fall straight into Gui Lai Tang’s trap. They had invited him to watch this scene, hoping to make him falter.

It felt like his soft spot had been struck, and the pain spread through his whole body. But as a skilled hunter, he could never admit to having a weakness. His first reaction was to open his defenses and wrap himself in them.

He wasn’t afraid of the weapons behind him, nor did he suppress his anger: “What kind of thing is Gui Lai Tang? Just because you’ve made a little profit from the war, you think you’re important enough to interfere in my affairs?!”

At this moment, Luo Ci was struggling to breathe.

This was his first time dealing with Xie Que Shan. He had only heard about this ruthless man’s iron-fisted methods from others, but after spending so much time by Zhang Yuehui’s side, things had always gone smoothly. He had grown careless, not paying much attention to Xie Que Shan. It wasn’t until now that he realized his earlier probing words, which might have intimidated those with little experience, had no effect at all on Xie Que Shan.

He didn’t even see the slightest sign of panic or pain on Xie Que Shan’s face for the woman. His anger seemed to be aimed only at Gui Lai Tang’s interference in his affairs. Even if, as his master had guessed, he and the woman had some secret, in this moment, Xie Que Shan would certainly abandon her without hesitation.

This man would never allow himself to be in a passive position.

Nan Yi, even though her consciousness was fading with the pain, still lifted her eyes in search of the familiar voice. And there, in the distance, she saw his face.

As if sensing her gaze, he too looked at her. Their eyes met in the brief silence.

It was a reunion they both dreaded.

Her heart ached, but Nan Yi did not show a trace of pleading in her expression. Her face was numb.

She saw only a cold, detached posture in his gaze.

Just as she had expected, he wouldn’t care about her life or death. Once she realized that she couldn’t obtain his mercy, she would save her energy for more useful things.

Like enduring the pain.

She closed her eyes again.

Her disappointment felt like invisible daggers, once again piercing through him, but Xie Que Shan quickly regained his composure and shifted his gaze back to Luo Ci.

“Go tell your clever master that he’s the one who killed his entire family in the Jingchun rebellion. If he wants to take revenge on me, let him come and kill me directly.”

Xie Que Shan released his grip on Luo Ci, who gasped for air, but then felt a sharp pain in his shoulder blade.

Xie Que Shan had casually grabbed a pair of tongs from the wall and expertly stabbed them into Luo Ci’s clavicle, pinning him to the wall.

Even though Luo Ci was highly trained, he couldn’t help but let out a painful scream.

In the dim light, Xie Que Shan’s cold silhouette stood out: “As for this woman, I’ve long wanted to kill her—if any of you have the guts, come and take care of it.”

Nan Yi clearly heard every word he said.

Each word echoed in her ears.

Her body hurt, but a desolate smile appeared on her face.

She should have been killed on Huniu Mountain those two times. All the extra days she lived felt like a gift from the heavens, and now the heavens were here to punish her for it.

Xie Que Shan didn’t look at her again. With a flick of his sleeve, he turned and walked away.

He was unarmed, but the guards outside only dared to hold their swords toward him. None of them dared to stop him, parting to let him pass.

When some guards tried to approach Luo Ci after Xie Que Shan exited, Xie Que Shan paused his steps and turned back.

His voice, carrying an oppressive aura that commanded respect without anger, filled the room: “Tell your master to come save his loyal dog. If anyone helps him, I’ll kill him.”

The flickering light cast Xie Que Shan’s shadow long and thin against the wall. Beneath his sleeves, his fists were clenched, his knuckles white.

He was, after all, using rage to hide his helplessness.

But he knew very well that any sign of care he showed for her would be used against her by them. In the current passive situation, this was the only way he could act.

He had prepared for this moment long ago. He wanted Nan Yi to hate him, fear him, so that one day this moment would come. In her heart, he would always be a villain, and Gui Lai Tang would never be able to extract any useful information about him from her.

But she was suffering because of him, and he couldn’t just stand by. He had to ensure that he stayed in control of the game, so that he could win her back.

Although he had no leverage, he bluffed, pretending to have a good hand, hoping his opponent would hesitate and abandon their position.

He had to save her, but he had to remain calm.