Ming Huashang had taken the words this far, and for Xie Jichuan to refuse at this point would be the height of cold-heartedness. He sighed and accepted the tea she offered with both hands. “Second younger sister is extraordinarily skilled at conversation. I find myself almost envying whoever will one day become your husband.”
Ming Huazhang took a quiet sip of his tea. At those words, a blade of a glance shot sideways, and the wisps of steam rising before his brows and eyes only deepened the impression of cold brilliance and jade-fine perfection.
Xie Jichuan felt thoroughly aggrieved at being on the receiving end of that look. “Second younger sister will have to be married eventually,” he said, putting his case. “I was only stating a fact. Do you dislike hearing even that?”
Ming Huashang, sensing trouble, hurriedly cut in: “All right, all right — I am still young, and I have never given marriage any thought. Second Elder Brother — do you truly believe these past few days have been the work of the snake ghost?”
Night had fallen and going out was inadvisable. It was also too early for bed. It was precisely for this moment that Ming Huashang had prepared the soothing tea — so they could brew tea and exchange information at the same time.
Ren Yao had nearly finished her entire cup of tea when she suddenly heard the word “ghost” and went rigid. She looked tensely at Ming Huazhang, not sure whether she wanted to hear a yes or a no.
Ming Huazhang was quiet for a moment. “When a person dies, their light goes out. If ghosts could kill, how would there be so many wrongful deaths in this world? I rather think someone has a guilty conscience, and is using talk of ghosts and spirits to manipulate people’s minds.”
Ren Yao hesitated. “But this morning, everyone saw it — Wei Zi’s blood-written words, the black brambles that do not grow near the capital. If it is not a supernatural being, how did those things come to appear?”
“That is precisely where the flaw lies.” Ming Huazhang said, “If we truly follow the logic of finding a scapegoat — that it was Chi Lan’s ghost that killed Wei Zi — then how would Chi Lan, a maidservant who had never left Luoyang, know what black brambles were, let alone go out of her way to use them to bind someone?”
Ren Yao felt understanding begin to dawn. “You mean… the other party did this deliberately?”
“Obviously.” Ming Huazhang gave a sharp, extremely cold sound of contempt. The young man stood with his neck long and slender, his bearing all ice and jade, his natural arrogance perfectly matter-of-fact. “There are so many ghost legends in the common world. Only one person had died, yet rather than inventing a mountain ghost or a snow ghost, the story circulated was of a snake ghost from thousands of li away. If no one were deliberately guiding this narrative, how could it have spread throughout the villa in a single night? Black brambles may indeed be a specialty of the Jiangnan West Circuit, but that circuit is vast — why did the rumor point directly to Fangzhou?”
It was as if someone was urgently anxious to make everyone in the villa believe: there is a ghost from Fangzhou.
What was so special about Fangzhou that it was worth sacrificing two lives and going to all this elaborate trouble?
Xie Jichuan kept his gaze lowered, fixed on the tea, and said nothing for a long while. Ming Huashang was not especially familiar with the geography of the Great Zhou empire, nor could she tell the difference between black brambles and ordinary thorns — but what she had seen that day occupied her mind intensely. “According to the maidservant who discovered the body and those who shared a courtyard with Wei Zi, the time of death was between the fourth watch and the second quarter of the Hour of the Dragon. I remember when I saw Wei Zi yesterday, she was wearing a blue outer robe with a pine-green skirt. When we looked at her room today, the colors inside leaned mostly cool-toned as well. So why, when she was found dead, was she wearing bright red?”
Ren Yao could not see why this mattered. “It is only clothing. Perhaps the killer changed it for her. What is so significant about that?”
But Ming Huashang fell silent, biting her lip, as though she had sunk into an enigmatic inner world. There, she was no longer Ming Huashang — she was a faceless, genderless killer.
What had been going through their mind, to make them change Wei Zi’s clothes?
Ren Yao did not dwell on these small details. She said regretfully, “It is a pity that after the incident last night, Princess Taiping had someone wash away Chi Lan’s writing and blood at the scene. If we could directly compare the handwriting, we might have another lead.”
At this, Ming Huazhang’s brow moved slightly and he looked toward Xie Jichuan. Xie Jichuan pretended not to understand, but he was no match for Ming Huazhang’s searing gaze. Feigning death was useless, so he resigned himself with a reluctant sigh: “What terrible luck. Can the moments when you think of me ever involve something good?”
Ming Huazhang did not budge. “He has had the name of a child prodigy since childhood — with a memory so perfect that a single glance allows him to reproduce anyone’s handwriting flawlessly. Shu Li, bring paper and brush.”
Ren Yao was astonished — she had not imagined that a gift existing only in books could actually be found in a real person. “Truly?”
Xie Jichuan wrinkled his brow in distaste, wishing it were not true. Ming Huazhang always carried writing supplies, just as Ming Huashang always carried food. Shu Li quickly brought out the paper. Xie Jichuan resigned himself to his fate and moistened the brush. “The price of poor taste in friends. Truly, the price of poor taste in friends.”
Xie Jichuan had just touched brush to paper when something that sounded like a collision outside the courtyard carried faintly through the air. The sound was slight, buried under the wind — but Ming Huazhang’s ear caught it, and his eyes turned razor-sharp in an instant. “Who is there?”
Ming Huashang was jolted out of that strange inner state. Before she could grasp what was happening, a rush of air swept past her nose — then a gust of wind and snow poured in at her back, and Ming Huazhang’s figure had already plunged into the curtain of falling snow.
Ren Yao also stood, grinding her teeth, snatched up her spear and charged out: “Which petty scoundrel is out there playing ghost and frightening this aunt into a sleepless night? You wretch — come give your life!”
Ren Yao stormed out as well. Ming Huashang stood there in a daze and asked, “What is happening?”
Xie Jichuan rose to his feet and said, “Perhaps we’ve caught our ghost. Come — let’s go and see.”
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