Chapter 59

Chapter 59

When Lu Suian arrived on horseback, he found Linglong Pavilion in utter chaos. Checkpoints surrounding the pavilion were tightly controlled, and people were in disarray on both floors—clearly, something dire had occurred.

On the roadside opposite, the Lu family carriage was parked, but the accompanying guards and maids were nowhere to be seen.

After the incident at Little Qiong Mountain, Lu Suian had secretly increased the number of guards for Shen Anning’s outings, expanding from the original two, Zhu Que and Shen Liang, to four.

Now, none of them were present.

Lu Suian’s heart clenched. He immediately dismounted and strode inside. Just as he reached the entrance, he saw Shen Anning’s two personal maids frantically searching for her—one checking room by room, the other urgently questioning others. Lu Suian stepped forward, his face dark, and demanded, “Where is my wife? What happened?”

He had originally been informed that Shen Anning had fainted from illness, but the pandemonium before him suggested otherwise. The private guards in the room were not from the Lu family but carried themselves with an imperial air, indicating the situation was far from ordinary.

When Huan Xi and Hong Li saw the Young Master, it was as if they had spotted a savior. Overwhelmed—relieved, worried, and fearful—Hong Li burst into tears, choking out anxiously, “Young Master, the lady… the lady has disappeared. She was here just a moment ago, but in the blink of an eye, she vanished.”

They had been stopped outside by the Princess’s guards. When chaos erupted inside, they seized the chance to rush in, only to find the lady gone. Both were instantly panic-stricken.

Huan Xi, also pale-faced, was equally anxious but slightly more composed than Hong Li. She quickly organized her thoughts and explained, “Princess Fuyang is also missing. The Princess disappeared while the lady was still here. It was only after we forced our way in that we realized the lady was gone.”

She added, “The entrance is guarded by the Princess’s people and ours. The lady did not leave through this door. I asked someone here, and they said the lady seemed to have gone through the back door.”

As she spoke, Huan Xi hauled the female manager of Linglong Pavilion before Lu Suian.

In just a few words, Lu Suian’s heart sank. He never expected that in such a short time, a similar scenario would replay itself. The Princess missing? Shen Anning missing? Who could be behind this? Was the target the Princess or Shen Anning?

Recently, the capital had been rife with unrest. Any incident related to missing women was enough to send chills down one’s spine.

But at this moment, Lu Suian had no time for fear. His gaze, sharp as an arrow, shot to the female manager. He stepped forward and gripped her collar tightly, demanding, “Did you see clearly? Where did she go?”

The manager, already trembling and utterly disoriented, wasn’t sure if she had seen clearly. Stammering, she didn't know how to answer when a voice from the back shouted, “There’s movement here—”

No sooner had the words been spoken than Zhu Que rushed in through the back door, sword in hand. Spotting the Young Master, he steadied himself and hurried over, saying, “Young Master, Shen Liang has found something.”

Lu Suian immediately released the manager and stormed into the backyard. There, he saw Shen Liang picking something up from the ground, staring at it with a grim expression.

Lu Suian rushed over and snatched the object from Shen Liang’s hand. He held it up, and his face darkened inch by inch.

It was the dagger he had given Shen Anning for self-defense.

Now it lay on the ground.

A sense of dread gripped him.

At the same time, suppressing his unease, he scanned the area around where the dagger had fallen. Ever observant, Shen Liang exclaimed, “Young Master, there’s a hidden passage here—”

He immediately cleared away the obstructing debris and cried out in relief, “The lady might be inside.”

Before he finished speaking, Lu Suian had already swept past him like a gust of wind, stepping into the dark, hidden passage.

The passage was dark, damp, and gloomy. With the light behind him, it was dim. He could only faintly make out a crumpled figure lying on the ground. It was impossible to discern any specific features or the scene.

Lu Suian rushed over, gathered the figure into his arms, and cried out urgently, “My wife—”

But as his hand touched the clothing and the delicate form beneath, he froze.

Shen Anning preferred soft, comfortable fabrics, but what he felt now was rough and prickly—brocade embroidered with gold thread, a luxurious material from the palace, priceless and rare.

And Shen Anning’s body was slender and soft, light as water. Now—

Lu Suian carried the figure in his arms out of the darkness step by step.

As light overcame darkness, what revealed itself to everyone was an unconscious, unfamiliar face and Lu Suian’s grim expression.

It was not Shen Anning.

Lu Suian stood frozen like a statue, unmoving for a long time.

Then, the person in his arms drowsily opened her eyes. A cold, stern profile flashed above her, and in the next moment, Princess Fuyang was unceremoniously passed to someone else. Liuli and the others, seeing the Princess found, swarmed over, crying tears of joy and relief, exclaiming, “Princess—”

While Princess Fuyang and her entourage were lost in the joy of recovery, Lu Suian stood with tightly pressed lips, his face icy. After a long while, he slowly kicked out something he had inadvertently stepped on.

He had a bad feeling about it.

Now, as it came into view, it was clearly a blood-stained axe.

The axe was somewhat worn and blunt, but it was coated in thick, dark-red bloodstains—evidence of repeated use. Upon closer inspection, the blade’s edge had serrations, marks left from chopping something hard, like… bone.

Instantly, a terrifying thought crossed his mind. In the bright light of day, Lu Suian’s head swam, and his body swayed slightly, almost losing balance.

The others also paled, their expressions turning grave.

Huan Xi and Hong Li, considering a certain possibility, collapsed to the ground in despair.

That day, Lu Suian mobilized the entire personnel of Dali Temple and Jingzhao Prefecture, borrowed troops from the City Guard Patrol, and even deployed all the guards of the Marquis’s residence. He ordered a city-wide search, centering on Linglong Pavilion and expanding outward, turning the entire southern part of the city inside out.

That day, soldiers and horses roamed the streets of the southern city, frightening clueless citizens who had no idea what was happening. Apart from the emperor’s processions and the fall of the Huo family over a year ago, the capital’s streets had not seen such a show of force in a long time.

Afraid a major incident was unfolding, many citizens barred their doors, fearing they'd be collateral damage.

The search continued until sunset, but there was no sign of Shen Anning—alive or dead.

Lu Suian had not slept for three days and nights prior, and this was the fourth day. His eyes were bloodshot, his usually calm and noble face now a mask of icy severity and deep exhaustion. As wave after wave of search parties reported back with no news, his expression grew increasingly grim.

After what felt like an eternity, he rubbed his face, tightened his grip on his horsewhip, and strode step by step toward the Dali Temple prison.

With this level of intensity, even if half the capital was sealed tight, the perpetrator couldn’t hide forever. But while others could wait, Lu Suian could not.

Every moment delayed meant greater danger for Shen Anning. Lu Suian couldn’t afford to gamble.

Soon, in the death row cells of Dali Temple, screams and cries of agony echoed incessantly. In an unprecedented move, Lu Suian subjected every member of the opera troupe to extreme torture.

With each lash of the whip, followed by punishments like "adding official titles" (a torture involving wet paper placed over the face) and flaying flesh, the prison was a living hell on earth.

…

Dark clouds rolled in as the last remnants of sunlight were swallowed by darkness, and night fell completely.

The autumn heat, the "Indian summer," made the days stiflingly hot, but the nights after autumn arrived were bitterly cold.

Shen Anning shivered awake, roused by the cold wind. As she opened her eyes, she felt a chilling breeze, and white silk ribbons fluttered around her, emitting ghostly, mournful cries in the pitch-black night.

For a moment, Shen Anning thought she was in hell. Terrified, she shrank back, only to find there was nowhere to hide. Looking down, she realized her hands were tied, and she was slumped against a rusted, decaying wooden pillar.

Looking up, she saw nothing but darkness. By the faint light, she could make out that she seemed to be in a dilapidated, abandoned garden. All around her were withered trees, overgrown weeds, and she appeared to be on a half-ruined stage.

Above, dark red lanterns swung in all directions. Not far away, pale elongated ribbons danced wildly amidst the chaos. Between the crisscrossing white silks, a faint, hazy yellow candlelight flickered faintly. As the fierce wind whipped and the white silks fluttered, through the gaps in the fluttering silks, Shen Anning could see a slender, gaunt figure hunched at the center of the stage. Dressed entirely in white, the figure was intently occupied with something, head bowed. Looking closer, it seemed as though they were threading a needle.

In front of this person lay a body, splayed out in a human-like form but dismembered. Then, Shen Anning watched in horror as the figure indifferently lifted a large, bluish-white leg, adjusted it into its proper position, and began meticulously stitching it back on.

They were actually suturing a corpse?

The moment this thought flashed through her mind, a wave of putrid, rotting stench assailed her nostrils.

They were actually suturing a corpse?

The instant this realization struck—

"Ugh—"

Shen Anning couldn't help but retch uncontrollably.

The person suturing the corpse paused in their movements. After a moment, they set aside the needlework, picked up a candleholder, and slowly began walking toward her.

"Sister Shen, you're awake."

Under the candlelight, a ghostly, gaunt face came into view. The person smiled faintly at her—it was actually... it was actually the yellow-robed woman who had once begged her for water at the foot of Little Qiong Mountain.

But when they spoke, it was unmistakably a man's voice.

She was the victim from Little Qiong Mountain that day!

No!

She was the murderer—she was actually the murderer!

She had only pretended to be a victim when she appeared before her.

She wasn't even a "she" at all!

Watching the smiling face and hearing the unfamiliar voice that was neither male nor female, Shen Anning felt a cold dread prickle across her scalp.