Chapter 90

Chapter 90

Nan Wuxie was taken aback by the words.

He turned his head, his gaze blank and bewildered as it landed on Chu Qi's face, then tilted his head slightly, as if he hadn't understood.

"Huh?"

Chu Qi met his gaze, his face devoid of any extra expression. He smiled faintly, a genial, warm smile, and confirmed, with clear finality, "It was me. I had someone tamper with that batch of spices passing through Huazhou."

Nan Wuxie was completely stunned. He blinked, his eyes still clear and empty.

He had envisioned countless possibilities, even suspecting that the one on the dragon throne might be clamping down on the Wen family to leave Wen Buchi with no other support besides Li Sheng, but he never expected the culprit's name to come from Chu Qi's mouth so casually.

It took him a moment to pull himself together, asking, deeply confused and disbelieving, "Why? What's the reason? What does Third Brother Wen have to do with you? You've never even crossed paths,"

He took two steps closer to the other man and pressed, "Do you know each other? Did he offend you?"

Chu Qi gently shook his head, his tone still emotionless: "No, we don't know each other, and we've never interacted."

"Then why?!" Nan Wuxie was genuinely baffled by this inexplicable answer.

Chu Qi's gaze fell on Nan Wuxie's face, which was full of astonishment. He took in the sight for a moment before speaking slowly, "I've heard a bit about the Wen family's affairs. I heard... that Third Master Wen treated Lord Wen very badly."

He paused, studying the undisguised bewilderment on Nan Wuxie's face, then continued in that calm tone, "Isn't this a way for me to... help you blow off steam?"

"..."

Nan Wuxie opened his mouth but found himself momentarily at a loss for how to react.

This utterly outrageous explanation almost made him laugh in frustration.

His mind scrambled for words, but none could precisely express the mix of helplessness and amusement he felt at that moment. He raised a hand and rubbed his temples vigorously, feeling his temples throb. After all his calculations, he never imagined the truth would be so farcical and leave him so unprepared.

He racked his brains but couldn't utter a single word. Looking at Chu Qi's calm, gentle face, he gradually steadied his thoughts.

His keen intuition immediately sensed something more off.

He took another step forward, his gaze piercing.

"But how could you be sure that the box of incense you tampered with would definitely fall into Wen Shuyi's hands?"

The question was posed, but Chu Qi acted as if he hadn't heard it. He lowered his eyes to look at the steam rising from the tea stove, his slender fingers steadily lifting the kettle, clearly with no intention of answering.

Seeing this, Nan Wuxie's doubts deepened. His voice deepened as he returned to the core question that had been puzzling him.

"Just because he treated Wen Buchi badly, you went to all this trouble to kill him?"

Chu Qi remained silent, focused on pouring boiling water into the teapot, stirring the leaves into a swirl.

"Chu Qi, do you think I believe that?"

Chu Qi finally raised his eyes to meet Nan Wuxie's probing gaze. He suddenly smiled—a faint smile, yet it inexplicably made Nan Wuxie's heart tighten.

"Of course, it's not just for that."

"Speak," Nan Wuxie's patience ran out. "Tell me the truth—what exactly are you trying to do?"

Chu Qi met his oppressive gaze, the hint of a smile deepening at the corners of his lips, though his tone remained flat but carried a strange seriousness. He said slowly, "Because..."

He paused lightly, his eyes rolling challengingly, as if deep in thought.

"Because I, too, have feelings for Lord Wen. Is that reason acceptable?"

Nan Wuxie's mind went blank at the words, his expression frozen. He found the statement amusing, and when utterly speechless, people often laugh.

Too absurd.

Whether true or false, it was too absurd.

He laughed in sheer exasperation.

After a long moment, he regained his senses, his probing gaze scanning Chu Qi from head to toe. Then he walked a half-circle around Chu Qi and stopped behind him.

"Fine, I get it."

Although he said "fine," his mind was racing. Chu Qi's words were hard to read—if false, this man's actions were rarely governed by common sense, his thoughts were unfathomably deep.

But if true...

Chu Qi's casual attitude was truly unsettling.

He couldn't get a read on him.

This Chu Qi, with his meticulous mind and unpredictable methods, was too clever for comfort, but his actions always had their own pattern and purpose—he was no reckless madman. Nan Wuxie pressed him from all sides, using both threats and sweet talk, but Chu Qi remained a fog, evading and dodging, ultimately never giving a truly convincing or helpful answer.

He admitted to doing it, but his motive was so frivolous and ambiguous, as if deliberately covering something up, or perhaps simply enjoying keeping Nan Wuxie in the dark.

Seeing that the sky outside was already darkening, Nan Wuxie knew that pressing further would be futile. He gave Chu Qi a deep look—a complex gaze containing a warning and frustration at not getting an answer.

"You..."

He really wanted to cuss Chu Qi out, whether for the troublesome matter of Third Brother Wen or for that casually uttered "I have feelings for Lord Wen."

But after "you," he froze.

After a long time of failing to come up with anything, he shot Chu Qi a glance, then turned and strode away.

Chu Qi rose and silently followed him to the gate of the mountain villa. The night was heavy, and the lanterns hanging at the entrance swayed gently in the wind, casting flickering halos on the ground.

Nan Wuxie mounted his horse and looked back one last time at Chu Qi standing at the edge of light and shadow. He was still dressed in plain, elegant robes, his posture straight, his face half-hidden in the shifting light, impossible to read clearly.

He hesitated no longer, tugged the reins, and galloped off in the direction of the capital. The sound of hooves quickly faded on the quiet mountain path, eventually merging into the thick night.

Chu Qi stood there, silently watching the direction where Nan Wuxie had disappeared, his expression inscrutable in the shadows.

At that moment, a dark figure appeared like a ghost, silently stepping one pace behind him, head bowed, completely still, blending into the night just as seamlessly.

Chu Qi did not turn around, not even changing his posture. His gaze remained fixed on the distance, as if he could pierce through the layers of night to see that bustling yet turbulent imperial city.

After a moment, he parted his lips slightly, his voice soft, cold, and decisive.

"Wait a little longer. Let the fire burn awhile longer."

"Yes."

***

Since Wen Shuyi's sudden death at Red Butterfly Pavilion, beneath the capital's calm surface, undercurrents were stirring. Although Third Brother Wen was not particularly capable, he was not one to make many enemies. If there was anyone in the capital who could truly be said to have a "grudge" against him, it was probably only his half-brother Wen Buchi, whom he saw as a stain on the family and repeatedly humiliated.

Since both Wen Buchi and Nan Wuxie could arrive at this conclusion, others were not foolish either. Whispers and private speculation had already spread like an underground current. At first, people only exchanged knowing glances over tea and dinner, murmuring a few words, ultimately held back by Wen Buchi's current power and icy reputation.

However, as the wind rises from the earth, stirs from the tips of the green duckweed, once the hearts of the masses are moved, disaster looms large. *

Within just a few days, a chilling breeze, seemingly from nowhere, suddenly swept the suppressed rumors out into the open, whispers began to circulate among neighbors.

"Heard about it? The third young master of the Wen family died under suspicious circumstances..."

"Exactly, they say he was given a strong drug. And who doesn't know he had a falling out with that guy?"

"Tsk tsk, brothers by blood, and yet he could do this..."

"Yes, yes..."

......

These murmurs spread like a deadly plague, and in less than half a day, the rumor that the lord of the Listening Terrace poisoned his own brother over old grudges had spread through every street and alley in the capital, taking on a life of its own.

In truth, the matter was bound to be significant. For one, the deceased was the son of a noble house—a murder case naturally drew attention. For another, the suspicion pointed directly at another scion of the same bloodline, one notorious as a corrupt and powerful minister. The drama and conflict in this tale were enough to quicken the pulse of every listener.

Yet rumors among the common folk could only remain on the streets. Without a formal complaint from the aggrieved party, Wen Buchi would only face gossip and speculation, not an actual investigation.

However, as the rumors grew louder, they eventually reached the ears of Wen Jiucheng, a father stricken by the loss of his beloved son. Already drowning in grief, and harboring a long-standing hatred for Wen Buchi as the illegitimate child who brought shame to him, the old man was swayed by the rumors and believed them wholeheartedly.

Driven by "love for his son" and blinded by pain, he urgently sought to bring Wen Buchi, the "murderer," to justice, to make him pay for his son's death.

That day, the complaint drum in front of the Capital Magistrate's office was struck hard, its booming sound startling half the street. Wen Jiucheng, dressed in plain mourning clothes, his face streaked with tears, wailed at the office door.

Every word dripped blood; every sentence stabbed the heart. A father accusing his own son of murdering his elder brother.

When the news reached the Listening Terrace, Wen Buchi was buried in a pile of documents. Upon hearing that the Capital Magistrate had sent for him, his brush paused briefly, then he set it down slowly. His face betrayed no shock or anger, only a deep, unfathomable calm.

He had long anticipated this calamity, long foreseen such a fate. He had no expectations of his father.

Adjusting his official robes, he rose and followed the magistrate's messenger out of the office with steady steps. His figure passed through the corridor—solitary, upright, resolute.

***

In the backyard of the Marquis Nan's residence, Nannan, like a playful little sparrow, chased a yellow and pink butterfly across the grass, her two little hair buns bouncing, her bright laughter filling the courtyard.

Nan Wuxie stood aside, watching his daughter run about, his mind elsewhere. He was preoccupied with other matters.

The little girl, still young and unsteady, tripped over her own feet and fell down. Her small hands hit the ground, picking up grass clippings and dust, and a few smudges appeared on her little cheeks.

Nan Wuxie snapped back to reality at the sight. He immediately strode over, crouching on one knee to meet her at eye level.

"Did you hurt yourself? Tell Daddy where it hurts."

Nannan giggled at him and shook her head vigorously. He then took out a pristine white silk handkerchief from his pocket and gently wiped the dirt from her face.

"Look at our Nannan's face—all dirty like a little kitten."

"Daddy," Nannan tilted her face up, letting him wipe it, her big, dark grape-like eyes curving into crescents. "The butterfly flew away!"

"Yes, it flew away," Nan Wuxie replied, brushing his finger across her chubby cheek to wipe away the last trace of grime.

Just then, hurried footsteps approached from afar.

Wei Qinghe rushed through the moon gate, his face clearly anxious. He opened his mouth to speak but stopped abruptly when his gaze fell on Nannan.

He forced himself to swallow the words on his tongue, his Adam's apple bobbing. He quickly stepped beside Nan Wuxie and shot him a very grave look.

The peace and tranquility of the courtyard seemed to be torn apart instantly by this silent message.

Nan Wuxie understood. He put away the handkerchief, gently patted his daughter's head, and said softly, "Nannan, go find your nanny and have her give you a bath and put on clean clothes."

"Okay~" Nannan obediently replied, then looked up at her father with a sweet smile before skipping off toward the inner courtyard, her two little hair buns bouncing as she went.

Only when her small figure disappeared through the moon gate did Nan Wuxie slowly rise. The last trace of tenderness on his face instantly faded, his gaze calm as he looked at Wei Qinghe, indicating for him to speak.

Wei Qinghe took a deep breath, lowered his head, and said, "Marquis, something has happened."

Author's note: * "The wind rises from the earth, stirs from the tips of green duckweed" is from Song Yu's "The Wind" (Warring States period).

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"When the hearts of the many are stirred, disaster follows" is from Chen Shidao's "Collected Works of the Rear Mountain" (Song Dynasty).