Aftermath

"Bang!!!"

Qi Dachun's nine-foot-tall frame instantly smashed through the already battered little wooden door.

"Young Master, please."

After knocking down the door, Dachun unhurriedly dusted off his clothes.

If not for that rather intelligent look in his eyes, he truly had the bearing of a grandmaster.

Zeng Anmin said nothing and walked into the house.

The little dwelling faced the street. It was not large, without even a courtyard.

Upon entering, the first thing they saw was an ordinary family's kitchen, with space enough for only two people to stand.

A black cooking pot sat over the stove, giving off lingering aromas.

Further inside were two small rooms.

The room on the left carried a strong scent of books and ink. It should have been Zhang Lun's quarters.

The room on the right...

"Dachun!!"

The instant Zeng Anmin's gaze fell upon that room, his heart sank. His face darkened, and he did not speak.

Inside the little room, a pair of worn black cloth shoes hung motionless in the air.

Their owner had long since hanged herself from the beam.

"Yes."

Dachun had naturally seen the scene inside as well.

He crossed the distance in two strides and squeezed inside.

Hugging the corpse, he leaped upward and separated it from the rope suspending it.

After examining the body, Dachun raised his head and looked at Zeng Anmin.

"Young Master, she's dead."

Zeng Anmin's expression had turned exceedingly grim.

His lips pressed together as he carefully examined the undignified corpse.

Those who hanged themselves generally had purple faces, slightly protruding eyeballs, and tongues extended past their lips.

The marks around the neck were particularly severe.

After a long while, Zeng Anmin spoke three words.

"It was suicide."

Every mark on the corpse, along with the door locked from within, confirmed his judgment.

Taking a deep breath, Zeng Anmin crouched down expressionlessly.

The old woman he had met only the day before yesterday.

Today, when he saw her again, she had already hanged herself in her home.

A profound sense of helplessness rose in his heart.

He looked at the old woman's corpse, his thoughts drifting far away.

It was as though the old woman's life unfolded before his eyes.

Her husband had died young. As a lone old woman, she had raised her son.

She had placed all her hopes upon him.

Her son had not disappointed her. From childhood, he had studied diligently and possessed extraordinary talent.

Just after turning sixteen, he had been admitted to the world-renowned Shuidu Academy.

On the day he received the acceptance, her son had rushed home in excitement.

He had told her that he would certainly take good care of her in the future.

That day, the old woman smiled.

It was the first time she had smiled since her husband's death.

She had not studied for many years, so she did not understand Shuidu Academy's status in the hearts of scholars.

But when she saw her son's excited expression.

She was happy, and deeply comforted.

She did not feel tired either, and so she asked her employers for more work.

She only thought that now her son had entered the Academy, there would be many more places where money was needed.

It was always worth it for her to work a little harder.

That day.

The lords of the Xuanjing Division came to her home with grave expressions.

They told her that her son had been killed in the woods outside the Academy after a few words of quarrel with someone.

The terrible news had fallen from the sky. The old woman was at a complete loss.

Yet when she saw her son's corpse with her own eyes, she instinctively turned her head away.

She did not dare believe that everything before her was real.

Sure enough, someone said there was another truth behind her son's death.

She suddenly recalled her son saying that the Academy's Dean was the most virtuous and highly respected of men.

Yet the Dean had...

She looked at her son's empty room.

Thinking of her son's lonely grave, she could not sleep no matter what she did.

She wanted to end her own life.

But when she thought of the injustice of her son's death, she gritted her teeth.

Lun'er, Mother will surely beg someone to catch the real murderer.

Suddenly.

Someone said that the true culprit who had killed her son was dead.

He had died one night.

Killed by a martial artist wearing a cat-shaped hood.

The old woman sat weakly on the ground.

She cried, and she laughed.

Looking at her son's empty room, she rose tremblingly to her feet.

Lun, Mother is coming to see you.

Zeng Anmin slowly stood and looked around at the furnishings in the house.

Drip.

He took several steps and saw the black pot atop the stove.

The lid still faintly gave off the fragrance of food.

Taking a deep breath, he lifted the lid.

At the sight inside the pot, Zeng Anmin's body trembled slightly.

Kitten-shaped Buns, their forms vaguely discernible, had been arranged in neat rows.

The image of the old woman, smiling as she clumsily shaped dough in her hands, slowly surfaced in his mind.

Drip.

After a long while, Zeng Anmin put the lid back on.

He slowly raised his head.

His phoenix eyes were already bloodshot.

"Young Master?"

Seeing Zeng Anmin's expression, Qi Dachun was somewhat at a loss.

"Dachun."

Zeng Anmin felt his eyes sting.

His voice was hoarse, like two rust-covered iron swords colliding.

"Your Young Master... isn't going back to the Academy."

Zeng Anmin buried the old woman and Zhang Lun together.

He stood before the grave, looking at the copy of "Yi Zi" in his hand.

He had found the book on the desk in Zhang Lun's room.

It was a relatively new book.

Almost every passage in it bore Zhang Lun's annotations.

"Quanfu, these annotations are your elder brother's understanding of the Scholar's Intent. I hope they will be of use to you, so that I will not fail the teacher's trust in Lun."

The moment he saw those words, Zeng Anmin could no longer hold himself together.

He had never imagined that Zhang Lun would truly take a teacher's casual words to heart, even returning home to prepare study materials for him.

"Brother Tongyu, Auntie, may you have a safe journey."

Zeng Anmin pressed his lips together and tucked the annotated copy of "Yi Zi" close against his chest.

Governor's Mansion.

Today was a Day Off.

Zeng Shilin was splashing ink across paper in his study.

These past few days, Father had been in good spirits. He had also inquired about the funds for Tong'an Street.

The Ministry of Revenue had received the orders and had already begun disbursing them. The silver would arrive before long.

Father's wolf-hair brush danced like dragons and serpents across the Xuan paper on his desk, tracing calligraphy that was vigorous and powerful.

"Master."

Uncle Qi bent his back, his face carrying a trace of gravity.

"The murderer has not been found."

Zeng Shilin's hand paused lightly. Then he raised his head without expression.

"If he cannot be found, then so be it. A Young Master of a royal manor is not worth all this fuss."

"Yes."

Uncle Qi lowered himself even further.

"Today, this old man does not wish to discuss official business."

Zeng Shilin looked at the brush and ink before him, a satisfied smile appearing on his face.

"Master, it is time for your meal."

A gentle voice rang out. Aunt Lin, dressed in pale green, stepped gracefully into the study.

She held Huzi in her arms, her face filled with concern for Father.

Huzi blinked his large, adorably vacant eyes at Father and stretched out his little hands.

"Grandpa, hug!"

"Hehe."

Only upon hearing Huzi's voice did Father smile. He reached out and took Huzi.

"Come, let's eat together."

Huzi wriggled in Father's arms, his plump little mouth pouting as he complained.

"Grandpa's not as comfy as Mother."

Aunt Lin lowered her head.

Father had long become immune to Huzi's chaotic forms of address.

He merely smiled faintly and lightly scraped Huzi's pert little nose with a finger.

"You little rascal."

"Mm..."

Huzi did not look very happy. He seemed rather downcast, and after hesitating for a long while, he said in a wronged voice.

"I miss Daddy."