Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Was Wen Yu still searching for the Mysterious Guest?

A weight hung in the Young Marquis's heart, suspended and unsettled. He could think of no reason why Wen Yu would have that hair ribbon. He could only console himself that coincidences happen all the time, and that ribbon might not be the one he'd given after all.

His attention had been momentarily captured by that flash of red until a breeze brushed his ear. Luo Qianyu heard hurried footsteps running into the distance: "Please endure for a moment, Young Master. I'll go on ahead and return to the manor to get help!" It was Zhao Nian's voice.

Though Zhao Nian lacked strength, he was a swift runner. As soon as the words fell, he had already dashed far away.

Snapping back to the present, Luo Qianyu realized the situation he was in. A wave of frustration and indignation washed over him. He silently lamented that he was the most useless 'buy-stock gong'. If it were anyone else, it might be tolerable, but to be carried by the protagonist shou—what an embarrassment!

Yet, with no other option, he had to resign himself to fate. Fortunately, the hat's veil concealed his face, so no onlookers could see this scene. Only heaven, earth, he, and the Little Beauty would know. The Young Marquis tried to numb his thoughts, hoping only that time would pass quickly.

He averted his gaze but inadvertently caught sight of Wen Yu's palm, where faint blood was visible in the crevices. Luo Qianyu was slightly taken aback, realizing these were cuts left by the reins when Wen Yu had been controlling the horse.

This poor kid... Ever since returning to the capital to seek medical treatment for his mother, he had met with nothing but misfortune, himself included. Having sustained such injuries, given Wen Yu's character, he certainly wouldn't tend to them properly, likely just hastily bandaging the wounds to get by.

The Young Marquis sighed softly, feeling a pang of sympathy.

Luo Qianyu suddenly remembered Wen Yu's mother. Had they decocted the Thousand-Year Snow Lotus from the pharmacy as he'd instructed? How effective was it? Had her condition improved?

Unfortunately, his current identity was the Young Marquis, not the Mysterious Guest who had appeared multiple times. This was their first meeting; even if he wanted to ask, he had no standing to do so.

"A mere commoner like you—where did you learn such skills?"

The Young Marquis, veiled by his hat and not revealing his true face, felt emboldened. Under normal circumstances, he would never have initiated conversation with Wen Yu. "My horse happened to get spooked, and you appeared precisely on Drum Tower Long Street. Was that really just a coincidence?"

Wen Yu didn't answer the first question, remaining calm and composed. He only said softly, "This commoner was at the pharmacy to fetch medicine."

The Young Marquis followed up: "Fetching medicine? Oh? Is someone in your family sick?"

"Yes, I was fetching medicine for my mother."

"Is her illness severe?"

"She was gravely ill for a long time, but now she is gradually recovering." Wen Yu seemed to ponder for a moment before adding in a low voice, "Fortunately, someone came to our aid."

So that was it. Thankfully, it seemed Madam Wen's condition was improving. But...

"Someone?" The Young Marquis felt a pang of guilt. "Who would that be?"

This time, Wen Yu remained silent for a long while before slowly speaking: "I don't know his name, his appearance, or his background... We met by chance, yet he helped me twice. I only know others call him the Mysterious Guest."

"I haven't found him yet."

...

What?

He's still looking!?

"Oh? Any leads?" Seeing Wen Yu's gaze upon him, Luo Qianyu realized his question was abrupt. He cleared his throat lightly, covering his mouth. "Since you're doing me this favor, perhaps I could even help you find this Mysterious Guest."

Wen Yu hesitated slightly before responding: "...He likes to carry a folding fan. The fan is entirely golden, inscribed with eight characters." Wen Yu's voice was cool and clear, each word enunciated distinctly. "'May you succeed in the imperial examinations.'"

"..."

The Young Marquis felt his ears grow warm. Fortunately, he had recently given that fan to Chun Sheng, who had surely taken it to the pawnshop. That lead was now dead.

Luo Qianyu pressed his lips together, secretly relieved. "Quite distinctive. Anything else?"

"...There is."

He stopped mid-sentence, his gaze falling on the red hair ribbon tied around his wrist.

Luo Qianyu's expression changed slightly, immediately catching on, and he averted his eyes.

After an unknown length of time, the Young Marquis moved his lips slightly and said, as if offhandedly, in a cold tone: "In my opinion, you can't force this sort of thing."

"If you've searched for so long and still found nothing, perhaps this Mysterious Guest does good deeds without seeking recognition. Perhaps he doesn't wish to be found." Luo Qianyu said nonchalantly, "In that case, it might be better to give up sooner rather than later."

"Be reasonable. Don't waste your time chasing a lost cause."

Luo Qianyu spoke lazily and candidly, but his heart was in turmoil, uncertain whether the other had listened, or how much.

Wen Yu didn't speak.

The silence lasted too long. Just when Luo Qianyu thought the topic wouldn't continue, a voice suddenly reached his ear.

"To search is human effort; to meet is fate's design."

Wen Yu's expression showed no ripple, but his voice held a warmth that was strangely heartening, as he said softly, "Anything related to him is not a waste of time."

The Young Marquis stood frozen in place, a lump in his throat, momentarily at a loss for words.

A tumult of emotions churned inside him, finally settling into bleak resignation.

"Noble one, when the horse was startled earlier, there was a short arrow in its hindquarters. The bloodstains haven't dried yet." Wen Yu suddenly brought up.

"An arrow?" Luo Qianyu was taken aback. If that were the case, then the horse's panic had an explanation—it wasn't an unavoidable plot device! The Young Marquis felt a surge of excitement. "Put me down. Perhaps there's still time before the archer retrieves it."

"Noble one, you are injured. Don't move recklessly." Wen Yu's voice paused slightly before he continued, "The arrow is in this commoner's robe."

Upon hearing this, Luo Qianyu stopped moving, though his expression grew somewhat hesitant. Then, steeling himself, he reached his hand into the other's robe to feel for the cold arrow.

As he felt around, the Young Marquis's movements halted, and his expression changed slightly.

...

So firm.

It was hard not to be distracted. Indeed, it was so superior it was difficult to ignore—handsome and solid like a military strategist, the standard of looking slender in clothes but well-built without them, agile as a swallow yet tall and imposing. It was exactly the type he desired.

Since transmigrating into the book and deeply experiencing the delicate, noble body of the original owner, the Young Marquis, though silent on the surface, had secretly felt envious.

But! What about the promised delicate, soft body that's easy to push over? Does a protagonist shou really need such a good figure?

Soon, he held the cold arrow in his hand, its hard core icy.

The arrowhead still bore bloodstains, now dried.

The Young Marquis pondered the possibilities silently. In ancient times, there were no surveillance cameras or fingerprint tracing. They could only start with the arrow, likely like searching for a needle in a haystack. He muttered softly, "So much time has passed; the culprit has long hidden among the crowd. The only clue is a short arrow. How can we investigate?"

Wen Yu said, "It's not the only clue."

The Young Marquis was slightly startled. Taking advantage of the curtain hat hiding his face, he boldly asked, "How so?"

"Whenever something is done by human hands, flaws are bound to be left behind."

Luo Qianyu recalled the methods of modern forensic investigation and couldn't help voicing his suspicion: "Could it be that by analyzing the wound—its depth, blood loss, and so on—one could trace back and investigate all suspicious individuals within the firing range?"

"Setting aside the wound for now, observe the oblique cut penetrating three-tenths of an inch into the flesh. A distant cold arrow should have struck vertically, yet this iron projectile slanted upward from below, piercing the blood vessels." As Wen Yu spoke, his fingertip suddenly pressed against Luo Qianyu's lower back as a demonstration, his voice low: "The position is relatively low, not from a rooftop, but about thirty paces from the noble."

Luo Qianyu listened intently: "But such an act would be too conspicuous. As long as it wasn't a large crossbow, the perpetrator could easily blend in?"

"Even if it were a short crossbow, its size is not small. An ordinary person could not carry it openly in the market without drawing attention." Wen Yu whispered: "They had to hide among the common folk."

Luo Qianyu was taken aback, thoughtfully gazing at the bloodstained short crossbow before a realization struck him: "You mean they disguised themselves, setting up a stall... pretending to be a vendor?"

"Highly likely." Wen Yu pondered slightly, his voice like a water-soaked blade, cutting through the soul: "The method of ambush lies in quietly concealing oneself among merchants and peddlers, feigning innocence while hiding the crossbow, waiting for the opportune moment to strike."

Luo Qianyu turned the arrow over; beneath the dried blood, a cold gleam shimmered, and he vaguely glimpsed engraved patterns and symbols.

Upon closer inspection, he found the design somewhat unique: arrowheads at both ends, hollowed in the middle, with two additional square openings.

"The quenching technique for forging this cold iron is hard to find among common folk. Only craftsmen from the Ministry of Works' Armaments Directorate can master such precision." Following Wen Yu's guidance, Luo Qianyu lowered his gaze, his fingernail scraping against the metal with a sharp sound, as the voice beside his ear continued: "The groove at the arrow's tail is specifically designed to match the latch of a three-stone strong crossbow—a mechanism not available on the streets."

"Afraid it might have come from some noble household..." the Young Marquis remarked sarcastically.

"That person is no ordinary crossbowman either. Setting aside the difficulty of timing, accurately piercing an artery from thirty paces away without drawing attention, and not alarming pedestrians after the shot—they must be a right-handed archer with at least five years of experience."

A chill ran down Luo Qianyu's spine, and he felt a faint sense of dread: "So this wasn't an accident but a long-planned scheme."

"To go through such great lengths and painstaking efforts just to take my life..."

The Little Beauty lowered his eyes, speaking just enough to make his point: "If the goal was the noble's life, they could have simply shot an arrow into the carriage."

Luo Qianyu paused abruptly. As one of the buy-stock gongs, according to the book's plot, his fate ultimately led to death, but certainly not now. The person who targeted him this time did not aim to kill but intended to deliver a warning, to teach him a lesson and make him suffer.

Luo Qianyu cursed inwardly, thinking how utterly wicked this was—he'd rather have taken the arrow in his backside than be carried back to the Marquis' residence by the Little Beauty! Social death was worse than physical death; to kill someone, first attack their heart.

The Young Marquis sighed: "Xiang Zhuang performed the sword dance, but his true target was the Duke of Pei—not intending to kill the duke, yet finding ways to torment the horse. Better to give a swift, clean shot."

Wen Yu remained silent.

The snow-colored curtain separated the two, and though the corners of his lips did not curl, a faint, elusive smile seemed to linger.

A night breeze brushed past, scattering it completely.

Luo Qianyu tucked the tool of the crime into his robes, savoring the details.

With just a short crossbow, Wen Yu could discern the material, deduce the angle and distance from which the ambusher fired, and even analyze their concealed identity and general motive... His reasoning was thorough, rigorous, well-founded, and clearly articulated step by step.

Wen Yu, you are truly extraordinary.

If not for his own composure and the fact that he had already quietly withdrawn his shares, had it been anyone else, such a conversation would likely have left them utterly smitten.

Speaking with Wen Yu was beyond the original plan, but fortunately, the curtain provided a barrier, and they would not need to meet again. The Young Marquis felt somewhat emboldened. Lost in thought, he suddenly noticed a small figure flash outside the curtain. His eyelashes fluttered as his gaze followed, only to discover it was a little chubby bird.

This bird was somewhat extraordinary, with its red tail feathers particularly striking, resembling a modern fire-tailed sunbird—often called a miniature phoenix.

Where did this plump bird come from?

Wen Yu was slightly taken aback, his expression shifting into something indescribable, as if tinged with surprise.

Luo Qianyu, held in his arms, was also enveloped in a faint fragrance, making it hard to distinguish its source. The little chubby bird flapped its wings and, as if out of curiosity, tugged at Luo Qianyu's curtain, lifting it upward.

Luo Qianyu's mind was still on the short crossbow, but now he was forced to divert his attention. Startled and nearly revealing his true appearance, he raised a hand to shoo the bird away. "...Did you raise this?"

The denial on the tip of his tongue was swallowed back.

Wen Yu: "Mm."

"Such presumption and rudeness—just like its owner." Luo Qianyu frowned, speaking coldly: "Keep this beast under control."

The little chubby bird, unaware it was being scolded, gave up after failing to lift the curtain and reluctantly perched on the edge of the veiled hat. However, underestimating its own weight, it began to tilt after just a few seconds.

"...!"

Before the Young Marquis beneath the curtain could react, the face-veiling hat had already fallen to the ground, stirring a gust of wind.