Chapter 57: Night

The window in the room was pushed open, and a slender figure flipped inside—graceful, exquisite as jade—none other than Qu Hongxiu.

Jia Cong’s face lit up with delight. “Did you get it?”

Qu Hongxiu pulled out a small booklet bound in yellow paper and asked, incredulous:

“How did you know there was a seven-star lamp hanging behind her kang, with a straw effigy beneath it, and paper effigies and this little ledger hidden in the cabinet?”

“Did you go to her house?”

Jia Cong smiled. “How could I have gone to her house?”

Qu Hongxiu furrowed her beautiful brows. “Don’t try to fool me—if you never went, how could you know so precisely?”

“A certain Mr. Cao told me.”

“Who is this Mr. Cao?”

“Mr. Cao is a scholar who writes works destined to endure.”

Qu Hongxiu shot him a skeptical glance. “You’re pulling my leg—scholars are all mystical and strange.”

She poured more tea into a fresh inkstone and ground coarse ink into a dark paste.

Finally, she took a piece of gauze, dipped it in weak tea, held it over the candle flame to produce smoke, and gently smoked the newly written page of the ledger, then set it aside to dry.

Qu Hongxiu blinked in surprise. “You know how to do this?”

“You’re incredible—there really is a Pan Sanbao. I captured him, applied a little pressure, and he confessed everything.”

Jia Cong had been about to say this was his maternal grandfather’s family art—he’d learned it as a child—but he swallowed the words and merely smiled.

That night, the two worked tirelessly, coming and going under cover of darkness until all tasks were settled by midnight, when Jia Cong finally lay down to sleep.

Qu Hongxiu’s beautiful eyes were wide open, fixed unwaveringly on Jia Cong as he worked.

Qu Hongxiu took out two straw effigies, several blank paper effigies, and several cut pieces of yellow paper.

“It’s just matching the ink color exactly.”

After much effort, she focused, picked up her brush, added a few lines to the ledger, then held the writing over the candle flame to dry.

Jia Cong smiled. “This time it wasn’t Mr. Cao who told me—it was another master. I was just testing, Meixiangdaozhenyouzhehuishi ， Zhishishijianzaolexuduo 。”

She herself wondered why she was indulging him in such nonsense—ever since the Dezhou Hidden Sect was slaughtered to the last, she alone had escaped with a few orphaned disciples.

“What on earth are you doing?”

She repeated the above steps two or three more times.

“Exactly as you described—how could you possibly know these obscure details? Was it again Mr. Cao?”

Jia Cong took the fresh tea brewed by Qingwen, poured a cup for Qu Hongxiu, and handed it to her with a smile.

He carefully flipped through the ledger, then took out Xuan paper and repeatedly wrote on it, cross-checking with the ledger’s contents.

Then he wrote on the straw and paper effigies, and finally asked: “When you return these items, won’t they notice?”

The next night, Qu Hongxiu entered Jia Cong’s room again.

“Don’t worry—he sleeps for three hours before waking, just like your two maids.”

She had killed Wu Jinrong at Shuyun Villa to avenge herself, yet afterward seemed lost, unsure what to do next—each memory of Dezhou’s bloody scenes left her weary and disgusted.

Even Qin Shu, the odd man on Wenhanyuan Street, she had begun to avoid.

Only with Jia Cong did she feel peace and stability—even this bizarre, inexplicable mischief with him brought her amusement.

Qu Hongxiu said: “I followed your plan and gave the victim the signed confession of Pan Sanbao—he will surely file a complaint at Zhengan Prefecture.”

Jia Cong gazed at the ink-black night beyond the window and murmured: “Wait. Every debt owed will be repaid. If only you were still alive…”

…

Early in the morning, Wu’er began packing Jia Cong’s belongings, for Third Master was moving today to the new courtyard to the north. Qingwen entered to help him wash and groom.

As soon as Qingwen stepped in, she frowned and sniffed her small nose.

She asked suspiciously: “Third Master, these past two nights you’ve locked yourself in to read, refusing to let me or Wu’er attend you—are you really reading?”

Jia Cong smiled. “Can reading be faked?”

Qingwen squinted and teased: “But I smelled it yesterday morning—and again today—a woman’s fragrance, just like before.”

Jia Cong forced a laugh. “You little girl are always imagining things. Besides you and Wu’er, who else is a woman in my room? Probably your scent lingering.”

Outside, Wu’er called: “Qingwen, hurry and pack your things—the servants will carry them to the new courtyard.”

Jia Cong exhaled in relief. “Go on, take care of your own things—I’ll manage here.”

This girl is like a puppy—her nose is sharper than her brain.

The three of them had little luggage; Jia Cong had grown up poor in the eastern courtyard, owning next to nothing.

His most precious possessions were the brushes, ink, paper, and inkstone gifted by Tan Chun and Prince Jia Shun, and the set of Yùwénxuān vermilion-pine ink Four Books from Xiao Jindong.

Three or four servants carried it all over in one trip.

After walking through courtyards and corridors for a long while, they arrived at the courtyard. Jia Cong gazed at the plaque above the gate—Qingzhi Studio—and his eyes softened.

It had been named so—suddenly, the lonely courtyard felt familiar.

The courtyard was enclosed by white, undulating plaster walls; the eaves were tiled with gray-blue floral cylinder tiles; the ground was paved with fine blue bricks, with a winding path of pebbles laid in the center.

Though named Qingzhi, only a few fragrant herbs were planted as a token; many had withered from long neglect. The most abundant plants were tall, upright emerald bamboos.

Though Jia Cong was not favored by Jia Mu, Wang Xifeng had chosen this isolated courtyard, which suited Jia Mu’s wishes—everything else was secondary.

Moreover, Jia Zheng clearly valued Jia Cong—everyone could see that—and Jia Cong and Jia Lian were blood brothers, so their bond was close.

Since Lady Wang had entrusted Wang Xifeng with the arrangement, and Wang Xifeng was adept at pleasing all sides, she naturally ensured both substance and appearance were covered.

Though she could be ruthless, in matters like this, she scorned her mother-in-law’s stinginess and meanness—she would not tarnish the Wang family’s reputation.

Thus, every furnishing and utensil in the courtyard had been properly provided; once Jia Cong and the others placed their luggage, all was settled.

Two low-ranking maids, Juan’er and Si’er, were assigned to assist outside—chosen by Ping’er, Wang Xifeng’s attendant. Both were young, full of childish energy.

At noon, the three ate in Qingzhi Studio; it was farther from the kitchen, making things slightly less convenient than before.

Wu’er, with the young maid Si’er, was clearing the dishes when they heard knocking at the courtyard gate.

Qingwen went to answer, and soon footsteps echoed outside, followed by Qingwen’s bright voice:

“Lin Meimei, Second Young Lady, Third Young Lady, Fourth Young Lady, Bao Er—why are you all here?”

Jia Cong heard Tan Chun’s crisp voice: “Today is Third Brother Cong’s housewarming—we naturally came to pay our respects.”

New book stage—please follow and collect, thank you very much!

(End of Chapter)