When returning, the rain had lessened considerably.
Yin Zheng waited for her far away at the forest entrance. Every time during such occasions, Lu Tong always had Yin Zheng avoid the scene, feeling that some things were better done alone, with no need to drag unrelated people into it.
Though Yin Zheng had already inevitably been swept into this whirlpool.
By the time they returned to West Street, it was past midnight. Not a soul was on the street, only rainwater from roof tiles dripping steadily from the eaves, leaving puddles of faded color on the ground.
Lu Tong and Yin Zheng crossed the outer courtyard and hurried into the inner room. Yin Zheng helped Lu Tong remove her cloak.
The white cloak was mostly soaked by rain, with rainwater mixed with blood dripping to the floor. Large blood flowers bloomed into mottled red patterns on the snow-white fabric—at a glance, it possessed a shocking beauty under the lamplight.
Yin Zheng was also somewhat startled by the sight. After a moment, she asked Lu Tong: “He’s already…”
Lu Tong hummed in acknowledgment, her gaze passing over the bloodstained cloak in Yin Zheng’s hands, lowering her eyelashes: “What a pity to ruin a piece of clothing.”
The room fell silent for a long while.
After a moment, Yin Zheng spoke quietly: “Miss, please change into clean clothes first.”
“Alright.”
The frosty night rain was cold, with bitter cricket sounds outside. Yin Zheng busied herself helping Lu Tong wash away the blood stains, so she didn’t notice the horrified gaze hidden by night shadows in the courtyard outside the window.
After everything was cleaned up and the cloak put away, Yin Zheng carried the lamp to rest in the adjacent room. Lu Tong extinguished the small table’s candle and got onto the bed.
Outside, rainwater dripped steadily, piercingly desolate.
The room was unlit and completely dark. A thread of wind blew in through the window crack, making one feel cold all over. Listening hazily, it somewhat resembled the hoarse gasping sounds of someone dying.
Like Liu Kun’s screams when dying from Free Oriole poison.
Lu Tong lay facing upward, staring at the canopy above her head.
Liu Kun had been poisoned by Free Oriole. Those poisoned by Free Oriole would feel unbearable itching and pain in their throat several hours after the poison took effect, as if thousands of ants were crawling and gnawing inside their throat.
This poison wasn’t incurable—in fact, the toxicity would naturally disappear after one night. However, most who were poisoned rarely survived. This was because at the depths of suffering, the poisoned person’s mind would become crazed, developing suicidal thoughts.
So most people who died from Free Oriole poison didn’t die from the toxicity itself, but from self-inflicted harm.
She had coated Liu Kun’s letter paper with Free Oriole, then arranged to meet Liu Kun in the letter according to when the poison would take effect. Finally, Liu Kun couldn’t bear the poison’s effects and pierced his own throat, dying before her.
Everything was seamless.
Thinking of Liu Kun’s clawing before death, Lu Tong couldn’t help but cover her neck, as if feeling a trace of itchiness in her own throat.
She too had experienced Free Oriole’s power.
At that time, Falling Plum Peak was in early spring March, with young beauty everywhere and mountain full of orioles’ crisp calls. Yunniang’s hibiscus-colored crossed-collar gauze dress was dyed bright red by evening glow, her full head of black hair combed into a leaving-home bun, sitting in front of the small hut making medicine.
She was in a very good mood that day, explaining each medicinal formula to Lu Tong while making medicine. Lu Tong sat on a stool, sorting herbs while secretly memorizing the formulas.
Finally, Yunniang poured the finished medicine into a white porcelain bowl and handed it to Lu Tong.
Newly made medicine always needed someone to test it. After Lu Tong drank the new medicine, she washed the porcelain bowl clean and waited for the unknown arrival of the drug’s effects.
Usually at this time, Yunniang would have already left. She never had much patience, only returning to observe and record when the drug effects arrived. Today, however, she unexpectedly stayed a while longer.
“I heard an interesting story when I went down the mountain a few days ago.” She suddenly spoke.
Lu Tong said nothing, quietly staring at the ant colony on the ground.
Yunniang looked at Lu Tong with a smile and continued: “It’s said that there was a pleasure house at the foot of the mountain with a courtesan who had a very good voice, surpassing larks and orioles. The madam named her ‘Free Oriole.'”
“This Oriole Sister became famous, so young masters and nobles competed to visit her, finally arousing jealousy from her peers. Someone poisoned her tea and ruined her voice.”
“Oriole Sister could no longer make sounds. The drunk customers who once praised her stopped requesting her services. The madam treated her harshly, servant girls looked down on her. Disheartened, Oriole Sister simply hanged herself with a rope in her room.”
After finishing, she sighed deeply: “How pitiful.”
Though sighing, her expression showed joy completely different from her tone, her beautiful eyes flashing with strange light.
Lu Tong remained silent.
Yunniang said: “When I first heard this story, I found it quite moving, and the name extremely beautiful, so I used it as inspiration to create a new medicine. After taking this new medicine, there’s no abnormality at first, but later, one feels unbearable itching and pain in the throat.”
She glanced at Lu Tong’s stiff expression and giggled.
“Don’t be nervous, Little Seventeen. This medicine just makes the throat uncomfortable—it won’t kill anyone. Even if you take it, your life won’t be in danger. I just want to know…”
Yunniang’s slender fingertips brushed over Lu Tong’s head, her tone carrying innocent curiosity: “Can you endure it or not?”
She smiled and left the grass hut with her silver jar. After she left, Lu Tong rolled and crawled into the house, rummaging through boxes and cabinets until she finally found two fist-thick hemp ropes.
She knew Yunniang never lied. Each time her “understatements” would end up being extremely “painful and unbearable.” Since she used the word “endure,” it meant Free Oriole’s itching and pain definitely wouldn’t be just a little bit.
Evening glow sank inch by inch, and a silver-white moon gradually rose over the mountain. Yunniang didn’t return. Lu Tong curled up alone in the pitch-black grass hut, using hemp rope to tie her arms to the posts at the head of the bed.
The method for tying dead knots with one hand was taught by Lu Qian when she was small. Back then, the two siblings played games, competing to see who could untie the dead knots on the other’s hands.
No matter how tightly she tied them, Lu Qian could always easily break free. After losing too many times, Lu Tong simply changed the game rules, having everyone tie themselves up.
Lu Qian called her domineering while indulging her nonsense. Finally, the young man laughed and scolded with hands on hips: “In the whole world, only you would play this game. Who would tie themselves up with rope for no reason? It’s not like it could save lives.”
Who could have predicted his words would come true.
When the moon rose to the mountain’s highest point, Free Oriole’s effects began.
The itching and pain in her throat couldn’t be described in any language. Her hands were tied too tightly by herself to break free from the rope’s shackles. She felt both grateful and hateful, her bent fingertips digging into her palms, trying to use pain to resist the throat’s torment.