"Maybe that's for the best." Song Tianming gave a reluctant nod.
They had said nearly all there was to say. The two sides agreed to notify each other as soon as they found any leads, and Jiang Cheng took his leave.
As she watched Jiang Cheng and the fat man disappear beyond the courtyard gate, the confusion in Ye Qiutang's eyes vanished, replaced by sharp vigilance. "Well? Can we trust those two?"
After what had happened with Maid Lü Zhu, Ye Qiutang was all the more worried about the two strangers, Jiang Cheng and his companion.
Unlike Ye Qiutang, Song Tianming seemed much more at ease. He watched in silence as the two men left, his voice flat and cold. "I haven't spotted any flaws for now, and the information they brought is important. Of course, that's assuming it's all true."
"Also, Jiang Cheng is wary of us. He doesn't want us meeting Monk Huicong alone. That's normal. I'd have been suspicious if he'd agreed right away."
As he spoke, Song Tianming rose and walked behind the stone stool where Jiang Cheng had sat. He crouched and rummaged through the weeds. Before long, a square wooden box sat on the stone table.
The box wasn't particularly finely made, and the strange patterns carved into it had worn away in many places. It was clearly an antique.
When he opened the box, a desiccated human head was revealed. Withered brown skin clung tightly to the bones. It was much smaller than an adult's head, and the sparse, yellowed hair still remaining on its crown was tied with a red cord.
Song Tianming carefully lifted out the head, his face full of reverence. "This is the head of one of the young girls among the thousands of boys and girls whom the