Hanging Himself

Duan Rong followed the soldier from the Protectorate General's Office out of the monks' quarters, passed through a moon gate, and arrived at a secluded courtyard.

The entire courtyard was pitch-black, with only one window glowing with dim yellow light.

The soldier glanced back at Duan Rong, signaling him to follow, then walked to the lit door and knocked softly.

The door opened, revealing a bald head, its scalp reflecting a warm yellow gleam. Though he stood with his back to the light and his face could not be seen clearly, Duan Rong still recognized him as Shuiyue.

The soldier said with a fawning smile, "Master Shuiyue, I have brought him."

Shuiyue said, "You have worked hard. Go rest. I have a few matters to verify with this examinee."

"Yes, Master. I shall take my leave." The soldier clasped his hands and departed.

Shuiyue glanced at Duan Rong standing in the doorway and said, "Zhu Shicheng, come in."

Duan Rong entered the room. Shuiyue closed the door behind him, then walked before Duan Rong and immediately prostrated himself on the ground. In a low voice, he said, "Your subordinate Shuiyue pays respects to you, my lord."

Without a word, Duan Rong helped Shuiyue up. "Is something wrong?"

Though this was their first meeting, both wore grave expressions. Clearly, they both knew something had happened.

Shuiyue picked up the three sheets of paper Wang Cheng had written on the low table and handed them to Duan Rong. "My lord, please look at this."

Duan Rong took them and scanned them by the lamplight, taking in ten lines at a glance. When he finished, his face darkened like still water.

Duan Rong noticed the signature at the end: Guimu Workshop, Wang Cheng. Looking at Shuiyue, he asked, "Is this Wang Cheng the