When the sky had just darkened, under cover of night, Xie Sui’an brought Xu Zhou back to Wangxue Wu.
Originally, she had been worrying about how to bring Xu Zhou back to the Buddhist hall, but upon arrival she discovered that the guards outside the Buddhist hall had quietly withdrawn today. It was said to be on the orders of the family head, opening the Buddhist hall for one day for family members to pay respects to departed souls.
Xie Sui’an didn’t think much about why Xie Queshan had specifically withdrawn the guards today, simply attributing it to the special time of year. She breathed a sigh of relief—overall, it had been dangerous but without mishap.
At this moment, a soldier was leading Xie Queshan through the dark prison.
The Black Crow Hall had recently arrested many people. Every cell was full, with wails and groans echoing endlessly. The ground had been washed with basin after basin of cold water to remove bloodstains, but underfoot it remained wet and sticky, with a thick stench of blood assaulting the senses, making one’s hair stand on end.
“Young Master Queshan, today that little soldier died under suspicious circumstances. He had reported upward about seeing people who resembled Prince Ling’an, but not long after, he died. General Gusha suspects there’s a mole, so today everyone who was present must be interrogated. Please consider this just going through the motions—much offense intended.”
The soldier led Xie Queshan into an interrogation room, but after a long time, Gusha still hadn’t come.
In the lightless room where day and night were indistinguishable, one felt drowsy yet constantly on edge.
On the surface, he and Gusha were still colleagues, and Gusha’s invitation was handled with official courtesy, polite and proper. But entering the great prison was clearly an intimidation tactic, fully displaying Gusha’s current arrogance. Since Wanyan Jun’s downfall, Gusha could be said to be the king of Li Du Mansion, wielding great power, able to summon wind and rain, stopping at nothing.
Xie Queshan had never earned his trust, and his current position was even more precarious. If Gusha caught even the slightest handle on him, he would likely never be able to protect himself again.
Xie Queshan was actually feeling guilty. The Prince Ling’an incident had occurred suddenly—he was lucky to have stumbled upon it and been able to hastily cover it up. Afterward, there was no time to withdraw, so he could only remain at the scene. The traces should have all been dealt with, but there were inevitably some loose ends left unattended.
As he was thinking about how to make his story more seamlessly convincing, he suddenly thought of something, and his back went cold.
He half-closed his eyes, stood up, kicked the table in front of him, and said furiously: “When exactly is Gusha coming?! Is he playing with me?”
With that, he made to leave.
The guarding soldiers didn’t quite dare to stop him, only blocking Xie Queshan’s path and bowing: “Sir, General Gusha is still interrogating people and truly cannot get away. Please wait a moment.”
“What a waste of time—” Xie Queshan impatiently walked toward the exit. “When he’s finished, have him come find me himself.”
This was actually psychological warfare. Gusha had no evidence, which was why he was making him wait here so long. If he waited obediently and willingly accepted this slight, wouldn’t that prove his own guilty conscience?
He couldn’t let Gusha lead him by the nose.
The soldiers didn’t dare let him go, only blocking the exit with submissive murmurs.
“Stand aside!” Xie Queshan’s eyes contained killing intent, with hints of wanting to resort to violence.
At this moment, Gusha finally arrived leisurely.
“All of you, step back. How dare you block Young Master Queshan?”
Sarcastic and insincere, with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
Gusha’s face still bore fresh bloodstains, which he wiped away carelessly with his hand, familiarly making small talk with Xie Queshan: “Ah, no choice—those stubborn people’s mouths were really too hard, took some time. Made you wait long.”
Xie Queshan crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, watching Gusha put on his act.
“Keeping me here so long—what exactly are you planning to interrogate me about?”
“Just going through the motions. What else could I ask?—Did you kill that soldier who died today?”
The scene paused subtly for a moment, then Gusha began laughing first: “Of course that’s impossible.”
Even Xie Queshan, someone so skilled at manipulating people’s hearts, had his composure shaken by Gusha’s words that went up and down. Gusha was merely reckless, but by no means stupid—even while joking, he kept his eyes fixed on the expressions on Xie Queshan’s face.
After all this time, he still couldn’t catch any substantial evidence that Xie Queshan was a traitor. But his intuition told him that this incident might be a breakthrough.
There couldn’t be such a coincidence—someone related to Prince Ling’an’s whereabouts had died, and Xie Queshan, who hadn’t left home for several days, just happened to appear at the scene.
To catch a slippery fish, one had to let the target know you were about to strike, making them anxious, but without letting them know exactly when you would strike.
Xie Queshan remained impassive. He had to gauge the right degree of response—saying even one extra sentence would be suspicious.
He put on an expression of being utterly sick of Gusha: “Since there’s nothing, I’ll leave first.”
Gusha had no intention of letting him go: “In such a hurry to return? Won’t you join me in interrogating those Bingzhu Division party members?”
Xie Queshan laughed mockingly: “I wouldn’t dare steal your credit.”
“What do you mean my credit, your credit—we both serve the Great Qi. If we do well, that’s glory for the royal court. Speaking of which, I really don’t understand you Han people. Today seems to be some Cold Food Festival? Several people in the prison refuse to eat hot food, saying they want to commemorate their dead comrades. Isn’t that sick?” Gusha began chattering as if he and Xie Queshan were very familiar. “You Han people just love celebrating festivals—so many throughout the year, really making a fuss—oh my, Young Master Queshan is so impatient today. I haven’t delayed your festival observance, have I?”
Gusha’s words were testing the limits of Xie Queshan’s patience, making the muscles in his face twitch weakly.
“I have no one to commemorate. It would be good enough if vengeful spirits and malevolent ghosts don’t come trouble me.”
“There’s one thing I really admire about you. Do you know what it is?”
Xie Queshan didn’t respond. His body remained in place, but his soul had already impatiently drifted away, not wanting to say another word to Gusha.
“Naturally, it’s about General Pang’s death—I thought you might show some old sentiment. I was even prepared to tell my subordinates not to act, but unexpectedly, for the benefit of the royal court, Young Master Queshan still acted with iron impartiality. Tsk tsk, admirable, truly admirable.”
Pang Yu’s death had always been an insurmountable obstacle in Xie Queshan’s heart. Gusha deliberately stabbed hard at this wound, afraid he hadn’t hit the painful spot, gripping the knife handle and twisting it around.
Xie Queshan closed his eyes, clenching his back teeth tightly, his jawbone seeming to sharpen by several degrees.
When he opened them again, the mockery had left his eyes.
“I’m a Han person. Working for the royal court is already more difficult than for others. Working so hard is nothing more than seeking fame and profit. General Gusha should understand these principles of pursuing fame and gain better than I do. Having come this far, whoever blocks my path, I will kill.”
He stepped forward, using the back of his hand with slight force to push Gusha aside forcibly, striding directly away.
Gusha laughed behind him: “In Li Du Mansion, they’re all your close friends and relatives… If you really have to kill them one by one… wouldn’t you have to descend to the eighteen levels of hell?”
Xie Queshan didn’t respond, leaving with large strides.
All the way home, suppressing his emotions, he returned to the courtyard of Wangxue Wu. Closing the door, he finally couldn’t hold back anymore, fiercely grabbing a cup from the table and smashing it against the wall to vent his anger.