Aftermath

"BANG!!!"

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

"Young Master, please!"

After crashing through the door, Dachun unhurriedly brushed the dust off his clothes.

If not for his slightly less-than-sharp gaze, he truly had the bearing of a grandmaster.

Zeng Anmin didn't reply, walking into the house instead.

The small roadside dwelling wasn't large, lacking even a courtyard.

Upon entering, the first thing that met the eye was an ordinary family's kitchen, with barely enough space for two people to stand.

Above the stove fire sat a blackened cooking range, emitting wisps of lingering fragrance.

Further inside were two small rooms.

The left room exuded the scent of books and ink—it should be Zhang Lun's quarters.

The right room...

"Dachun!!"

The moment Zeng Anmin's eyes touched that room, his heart sank, and his face darkened without a word.

There, in that small room, a pair of worn black cloth shoes hung motionless in midair.

The owner of those shoes had been hanging from the roof beam for quite some time.

"Yes."

Dachun had naturally seen the scene inside as well.

He strode over in two or three quick steps.

Hugging the corpse, he leaped upward, separating the body from the hanging rope.

After examining the corpse, Dachun looked up at Zeng Anmin and said:

"Young Master, he's dead."

Zeng Anmin's complexion had turned extremely grim.

He pressed his lips together, carefully scrutinizing the unseemly corpse.

Those who die by hanging typically have purple faces, slightly bulging eyes, and tongues protruding past the lips.

The ligature marks around the neck were very deep.

After a long time, Zeng Anmin uttered three words:

"It was suicide."

Every mark on the corpse, along with the door bolted from the inside, confirmed his assessment.

Drawing a deep breath, Zeng Anmin crouched down with a blank expression.

The Old Woman he had seen just the day before.

Today, she was already found hanging dead in her home.

A profound sense of powerlessness welled up in his heart.

He gazed at the Old Woman's corpse, his thoughts drifting far away.

In his mind, the Old Woman's entire life seemed to unfold before him.

Her husband died early. A lone old woman, she raised her son by herself.

She placed all her hopes on that son.

The son lived up to her trust—studying diligently from a young age, gifted beyond compare.

At just sixteen, he was admitted to the world-renowned Shuidu Academy.

On the day of his acceptance, the son rushed home in excitement.

He told her that from now on, he would surely honor and care for her well.

That day, the Old Woman smiled.

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

She hadn't studied much herself, so she didn't fully grasp the Shuidu Academy's standing among scholars.

But seeing her son's ecstatic expression, She was happy, and deeply gratified.

She didn't feel tired, so she asked her master for more work.

She simply thought—now that her son had entered the academy, there would be more places needing money.

A little extra hardship on her part was always worth it.

That day.

The lords of the Xuanjing Division came to the house with grim faces.

They said his son had been killed in the woods outside the academy over a few words of quarrel.

The calamitous news fell from the heavens, and the old woman was at a complete loss.

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

She couldn't believe what was before her was real.

Sure enough, someone said there were other hidden circumstances to her son's death.

She suddenly remembered her son mentioning that the academy's Dean was the most virtuous and respected of all.

Yet the Dean, however...

She gazed at her son's empty room.

Thinking of his lonely grave, she couldn't sleep at all.

She wanted to end it all.

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

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

Suddenly.

Someone said the man who truly killed her son was dead.

He died one night.

Killed by a Martial Artist wearing a cat-shaped mask.

The old woman slumped weakly to the ground.

She wept, she laughed.

She looked at her son's empty room, then rose shakily to her feet.

Lun, Mother has come to see you.

Zeng Anmin slowly rose, looking around at the furnishings in the room.

"Tap~"

He took a few steps and saw the black pot on the stove.

A faint aroma of food still wafted from the lid.

Drawing a deep breath, he lifted the lid.

Seeing what was inside the pot, Zeng Anmin's body trembled slightly.

There, neatly arranged, were faintly discernible Kitten-shaped Buns.

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

"Tap~"

After a long time, Zeng Anmin replaced the lid.

He slowly raised his head.

Those Phoenix Eyes were already shot through with bloodshot veins.

"Young Master?"

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

"Dachun."

Zeng Anmin felt his eyes grow dry and astringent.

His voice was as hoarse as two rusted iron swords grinding together:

"Your Young Master here is not going back to the academy."

Zeng Anmin buried the old woman and Zhang Lun together in one grave.

He stood before the grave, looking at the book in his hand—"Yi Zi."

The book was one he had seen on Zhang Lun's desk.

It was a relatively new volume.

Nearly every passage bore Zhang Lun's annotations.

"Quanfu, these notes are Elder Brother's insights on Scholar's Intent. I hope they will be of use to you, so as not to betray the trust the Master placed in Lun."

Reading these words, Zeng Anmin could no longer hold himself together.

He had never imagined that it was merely a single sentence from the teacher.

Zhang Lun had truly taken it to heart, even making study materials for him after returning home.

"Brother Tongyu, Aunt, take care on your journey."

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

The Governor's Mansion.

Today was the Day Off.

Zeng Shilin was in the study, wielding his brush and ink.

These days, Father's spirits had been quite good, and he had also inquired about that batch of funds on Tong'an Street.

The Ministry of Revenue had received orders and already disbursed the funds; it wouldn't be long before the silver arrived.

Father's wolf-hair brush danced like a dragon and serpent, tracing bold and vigorous calligraphy across the Xuan paper on his desk.

"My Lord."

Uncle Qi stooped his back, a hint of gravity on his face:

"The culprit hasn't been found."

Zeng Shilin's hand paused slightly, then he lifted his head expressionlessly:

"If he can't be found, then so be it. A prince's son from a princely mansion isn't worth this much trouble."

"Yes."

Uncle Qi bowed even lower.

"I don't wish to discuss official business today."

Zeng Shilin gazed at the brush and ink on his desk, a trace of satisfaction appearing on his face.

"My Lord, it's time for the meal."

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

She held Huzi in her arms, her face full of concern for Father.

Huzi blinked his big, adorably dazed eyes at Father and reached out his little hand:

"Grandfather, hold me!"

"Heh heh."

Father's face finally broke into a smile at Huzi's voice. He reached out and took Huzi:

"Come on, let's eat together."

Huzi wriggled a few times in Father's arms, pouting his round little mouth in dissatisfaction:

"Grandfather isn't as comfortable to hold as Mommy."

Aunt Lin lowered her head.

Father had long grown immune to Huzi's jumbled way of addressing people.

He just smiled faintly, reaching out to gently tap Huzi's little upturned nose:

"Brat."

"Mmm..."

Huzi's face wasn't very happy, looking a bit downcast. After mulling it over for a while, he said pitifully:

"I miss Daddy."