Chapter 95

Chapter 95

On the long street, passersby turned to stare.

Xue Shuyu, wearing a jacket with a torn slit, strutted at the front with brisk steps, his head held high. Half a step behind, on either side, followed Nan Wuxie and Chao Cheyun, whose expressions were still sour.

Both men stood tall with extraordinary bearing, with no trace of their earlier rowdiness.

This combination was truly odd: the man in front exuded cockiness from head to toe, while the two behind were shrouded in a gloomy cloud of "bad luck" and "reluctant duty," a dissonance that left people baffled.

The Quiet Hut was still as serene as ever, with green bamboo surrounding it and the faint scent of tea lingering in the air.

Nan Wuxie's footsteps paused as he entered. The last time he came here, he had met Xue Shechuan, the more calculating of the Xue brothers, to discuss world-shaping plans. Back then, he had only thought this place elegant and secluded.

Xue Shuyu, familiar with the premises, led them through the corridor straight to a nondescript tea storeroom in the back courtyard.

The room was dim. Xue Shuyu bent over, grunting, shifting a stack of solid wood tea chests. "Just standing there watching? No sense? Lend a hand?"

Ah well, one last time putting up with him. They stepped forward to help move the chests.

Once the chests were moved aside, a narrow ladder leading down was revealed, with a faint smell of damp earth wafting up.

Xue Shuyu climbed down first, his footsteps echoing in the passage. Nan Wuxie and Chao Cheyun followed silently behind.

The short ladder ended at an unremarkable wooden door.

Xue Shuyu stopped in front of the door, turned back, and under the dim wall lamp, a smile curled at the corner of his mouth—a mix of mystery and mischief. His eyes sparkled. He said nothing, just looked at them with an expression that said, "You ready for a big surprise?"

Then, he turned and pushed the door open.

Inside was a small, stuffy, foul-smelling chamber. There were no tables or chairs. In the center of the floor, several bulging burlap sacks writhed restlessly. The sacks were tightly tied at the top, and muffled "mmm-mmm" sounds came from within, like giant maggots laying eggs.

Nan Wuxie stopped at the entrance; Chao Cheyun halted too.

Their eyes landed on the human-shaped squirming sacks, paused, then shifted to the back of Xue Shuyu's head, shaking with pride as he admired his masterpiece.

Xue Shuyu waited a beat, but didn't hear the expected gasps or questions. Somewhat puzzled, he turned around.

He saw two pairs of eyes staring fixedly at him, not with surprise, but with a look that said, "Spill it now. Keep messing around and you'll get hit again."

"Cough."

A little deflated, Xue Shuyu rubbed his nose. Then he winked at Nan Wuxie, raised an eyebrow, and jerked his chin at the sacks—go take a look.

Nan Wuxie couldn't be bothered to play along with his deliberate riddles. He shot back a look that said, "This better be good," then strode over.

He crouched beside the sack squirming hardest, quickly untied the knot, and yanked the sack edge down—

A sweaty, terrified head popped out.

The man's mouth was tightly stuffed with cotton cloth, his eyes wide with fear. Seeing the light and strangers, he made even more urgent "mmm-mmm" sounds, shaking his head frantically.

Chao Cheyun stepped forward too, looking down, baffled.

Nan Wuxie studied this unfamiliar face. His suspicions, far from fading, only deepened.

The sack man looked like a rough laborer, panicked and terrified—not someone who seemed to know any secrets.

Just as the two were bewildered, Xue Shuyu drawled, his tone three parts explanation, seven parts fishing for praise.

"A dockworker from Huazhou Port, specializing in cargo transshipment."

He paused, pleased to see both Nan Wuxie and Chao Cheyun whip their heads around, eyes blazing.

Meeting their stares, Xue Shuyu blinked and dropped the bombshell:

"He happened to handle the transshipment of that spice ship from Jiangnan last month."

As his words fell, the room seemed to freeze. Even the muffled cries from the sacks stopped. The lamplight flickered slightly, pinning Nan Wuxie's grave expression and Xue Shuyu's smug "Aren't I amazing?" face together in this small space.

The key clue, in such a crude yet direct manner, smashed onto the scene like a stone dropped into a still pool. In Nan Wuxie's heart, it didn't stir ripples of direction but a sudden chill sinking in.

Xue Shuyu had caught the dockworker who worked the spice ship.

What did this mean?

It meant the lead pointing to Huazhou was no longer vague; it was a thread that, once pulled, would inevitably reveal the name "Chu Qi."

In truth, Nan Wuxie could afford to lose Chu Qi as an ally. The help of the Qianchen Pavilion, though covert and useful, was not irreplaceable. Nor was he afraid of the imperial court accusing him of harboring fugitives—with his resources and methods, he could navigate around it, at most taking some hits.

The real danger lay in Chu Qi himself, in the unknown and the loss of control.

Chu Qi was a man too difficult to read. What was his true motive for killing Wen Shuyi? That flimsy excuse of "getting back at things for Wen Buchi" didn't hold water. Nan Wuxie held too few "trump cards" against Chu Qi, while the other's cards were shrouded behind thick fog.

To rashly expose him and force him from the shadows into the light without first grasping all of his intentions and bottom lines was extremely dangerous, because you never knew whether what fell from under the cloth would be real cards or a bomb that blows it all up. Every question mark about Chu Qi could trigger traps that even Nan Wuxie himself hadn't detected, dragging the situation into even more chaotic and unpredictable depths.

A Chu Qi out of control, with unknown designs on you, was far more terrifying than a Chu Qi lurking in the dark with goals that at least seemed consistent for now.

These dockworkers were a lead to save someone, but also a variable that could cause collapse.

In that brief silence, Nan Wuxie rapidly weighed pros and cons, risks, Chu Qi's possible reactions, Wen Buchi's situation... countless thoughts flashed like lightning.

Until he felt a light bump on his lower back.

Chao Cheyun had noticed Nan Wuxie's hesitation. Though he didn't understand why, he just nudged him with his knee to snap him out of it.

Nan Wuxie snapped out of his deep contemplation, burying the furious storm of thoughts in an instant.

He looked down at the terrified dockworker on the ground, then glanced back at Xue Shuyu, whose face was screaming "Praise me."

Ridiculous. Too ridiculous. Xue Shuyu, as Nan Wuxie's powerful commercial ally, had no idea that the Qianchen Pavilion had also signed a covenant with Nan Wuxie. Now the knife was nearly at their necks—what a mess.

Oh well. He turned his eyes away. He had chosen his allies. He had chosen them all himself.

He reached out and pulled the cloth from the man's mouth.

"Marquis Sui'an," he introduced himself. "Nan Wuxie."

The dockworker in the sack, already a mess of tears and snot, turned pale with terror at the name "Marquis Sui'an."

"Spare me, spare my life, Marquis!" the dockworker stammered, begging. "I confess, I confess everything!"

"You confess?" Nan Wuxie stood up, sweeping his gaze over the other heads that had just been pulled out of their sacks. "Then speak."

Nan Wuxie's question was deliberately vague—after all, his own heart was uneasy.

But this dockworker really did him a favor, for he truly knew nothing.

"Your Honor, I'm just a worker. I took the master's silver and followed the master's orders. I truly... I truly don't—"

"Stop playing dumb! You did the deed and killed someone, we're asking who your master is!" Xue Shuyu interjected angrily. "What kind of business do you dare take? Do you want your life or not? You grasping bastard."

Clad in his tattered clothes, he continued to Nan Wuxie with righteous indignation, "Brother Nan, why waste words with him? You won't get anything out of him like this. Just use the tools! Let's see if he still talks tough."

But Nan Wuxie's conscience was uneasy. He couldn't afford to be too harsh and actually make the man spill everything, yet the Capital Magistrate's office needed evidence—the balance was tricky to strike.

Before he could figure it out, the trembling lips of the boatman spoke again, frightened: "Kill, kill someone?! I'm innocent! I was just hired to add something to the incense, how could it lead to someone's death...?"

Hearing this, Nan Wuxie instantly latched onto the clue. He looked down and said, "Add something? You make it sound so easy. How convenient that the incense with that additive just happened to be bought by the young master of the Wen family?"

He crouched, staring directly, "How did you ensure it?"

The boatman's voice and expression changed drastically. Still on the ground, he knocked his head like a fish flopping about.

"My lord, I beg you to see the truth! I never knew this job would harm Young Master Wen. I—"

"Listen carefully to what I'm asking!" Nan Wuxie interrupted. "By tampering with just one box of incense, you could precisely kill someone from the Wen family. What exactly was the order you were given?!"

In truth, for that single doctored incense to reach Wen Shuyi, there were only two possible scenarios: First, the boatman, following orders, tampered with a specific box designated by the master, and the master took care of the rest, leaving the boatman out of it. Second, the boatman randomly picked a box, added the substance, and marked it to alert subsequent handlers.

Either way, subsequent handlers passed the doctored incense to Wen Shuyi. The boatman only handled the incense, not its destination.

But was it really just these two scenarios?

"I... I didn't just tamper with one box..." the boatman confessed. "The order I was given was..."

He swallowed and continued, "To add the substance to the entire shipment of incense..."

The words hit them like a silent thunderclap.

"The entire shipment?!"

Xue, Nan, and Chao all exclaimed simultaneously, their faces changing.

"What the hell does that mean?!" Nan Wuxie pressed.

What did it mean?

It meant that the incense bought by Wen Shuyi was not the only one that could kill.

It meant that the entire shipment of incense could kill.

After days of continuous rain in early summer, the capital plunged into a massive wave of terrorist attacks.

It began with a silk merchant who died suddenly at a minor brothel in the West City, blood oozing from his mouth and nose, a strange smile on his face. That same night, at the famous Red Pavilion in the South City, two sons of officials, after engaging in amorous activities, collapsed convulsing in a side room, their symptoms identical.

Then came the private dens behind the taverns in the Eastern Market, the painted boats in the North Quarter... Like a fuse lit by an invisible hand, within just two days, brothels and even some male brothels reported successive sudden deaths of pleasure-seekers.

The victims were diverse: merchants, low-ranking officials, and dashing young nobles. All died as if ascending to paradise in ecstasy.

Panic spread like wildfire, swift and relentless.

The glittering pleasure quarters that once partied all night now stood desolate. High officials and nobles turned pale at the mere mention of 'incense,' declining even routine social engagements, fearing they might be walking into a trap.

A calamity aimed at disrupting the capital's order and public peace erupted suddenly.

Until this moment, the core question that had puzzled Nan Wuxie finally found its answer—

Chu Qi's deliberate tampering with the incense in Huazhou had never targeted Wen Shuyi, whose death had no value. He was merely the first and most conspicuous sacrifice in this grand scheme. What Chu Qi wanted was chaos in the capital, terror among the people, to let the thin blade of incense smoke bloom silently, reaping lives in batches and humiliating the court.

The seas turn to dust, the world is turned upside down. Amid the clamoring public opinion, Wen Buchi, pilloried for "fratricide," faces a dramatic reversal of fortune.

When death is no longer an isolated incident, when the killer's motive shifts from a "specific vendetta" to an "indiscriminate massacre," the logic originally focused on internal strife within the Wen family falls apart.

Of course, this alone is too flimsy as proof of innocence. The core reason Wen Buchi is exonerated is, ultimately, that the emperor needs him at this moment.

On the night before Wen Buchi left the Jingzhao Prefecture, news of the unrest swept into the palace and surged through the court.

Emperor Li Sheng was furious, but this anger did not stem from the senseless deaths of his subjects. In his eyes, the lives of those aristocratic youths who frequented the pleasure quarters and brought ruin upon themselves were as insignificant as weeds.

What angered him was the unrest itself.

The capital, the emperor's domain, the land of exemplary virtue, had witnessed a horrifying string of mass poisonings.

What is this?

This is an open challenge to the majesty of imperial power, a grave insult to the court's authority.

Rumors ran wild; panic spread among the people. If this blaze of unrest could not be quickly put out and stability must take precedence, there would be no peace for his dragon throne.

As for who died—their names and identities—that was unimportant.

Or rather, not that important.

What the emperor needed was immediate calm, a visible, forceful intervention, and a result that suppressed this scandal quickly, at least containing it within limits.

Thus, the imperial edict was issued from the palace.

The Five Wards Military Office was placed on high alert to calm the people. The Listening Terrace assisted in handling the case, mobilizing all informant networks for a crackdown.

The imperial decree was cold and efficient in its wording, making no mention of "compassion for the people," only stressing "pacification." In the emperor's calculus of statecraft, the weight of a few, dozens, or even hundreds of lives could not tip the scales against the phrase "stability of the capital."

A festering sore breeds disaster, and playing with fire leads to self-immolation. Thus, the beacon fire ignited by Chu Qi blazed into the open, and Nan Wuxie, who had previously protected Chu Qi in secret, was suddenly implicated as an accomplice.

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Author's note: A short skit:

Nan Wuxie hosted another gathering.

The reason was even more high-sounding than last time: "The last gathering went well, so let's get together again."

Xue Shechuan was silent for a long time when he received the invitation. Staring at the words "get together again," he felt as if he were looking at "slaughter once more."

But Xue Shuyu had already snatched the invitation and read it, his eyes shining like a dog seeing a meaty bone.

"Brother! Lord Wen is also going!"

Xue Shechuan closed his eyes.

What does it matter to you whether Wen Buchi goes or not? Are you Nan Wuxie?

But he didn't say it, because saying it would be useless.

This time, Xue Shechuan laid down three ground rules with Nan Wuxie beforehand: no plying his brother with alcohol, no telling his brother war stories, and no pumping his brother for information when he's drunk.

Nan Wuxie patted his chest in assurance, "Shopkeeper Xue, rest assured. Don't you know what kind of person I am?"

Xue Shechuan looked at him without speaking.

It was precisely because he knew that he was uneasy.

Wen Buchi got there early. When he walked in, Nan Wuxie still hadn't shown up.

Chao Cheyun was hunched over the table, studying the menu. When he saw him come in, he greeted him politely: "Lord Wen's here," and pointed to a chair. "Nan Wuxie specifically said your seat is right here."

Wen Buchi glanced at the seat next to the host's spot, then silently walked over and sat down next to Chao Yunping.

Chao Cheyun: "…"

He turned to look at Nan Wuxie, who had just walked in. Nan Wuxie started right away: "Oh, you three are pretty early."

He took the host's seat, and they started drinking tea.

About the time it takes an incense stick to burn, the Xue brothers showed up.

Xue Shuyu burst in, shouting, "I heard there's wine today? Lord Wen, you drinking? You weren't here last time, so you don't know—Chao the Second got wasted and hugged a pillar, crying 'Mom!'"

Chao Cheyun's face went green: "Xue Shuyu, who are you talking about?"

"You! You were wailing like crazy, crying and shouting, 'Mom, I miss you—'"

"That was an act. I was messing with you."

Xue Shuyu blinked, then turned to Xue Shechuan: "Bro, was he acting?"

Xue Shechuan thought for a moment: "Not sure, but the crying sounded real enough."

Chao Cheyun: "…"

Wen Buchi lowered his head to drink his tea, and at that, his shoulders shook a little. Nan Wuxie noticed, and his mood suddenly got a lot better.

Once all the dishes were on the table, Xue Shuyu suggested they play a game.

"What game?" asked Chao Yunping.

"It's called 'Whoever Doesn't Tell the Truth Drinks,'" Xue Shuyu said, pulling out a pair of dice. "We take turns rolling. Whoever gets the lowest number has to answer a question, and they have to tell the truth. If they don't want to, they can drink instead."

Chao Cheyun frowned: "Who came up with this game?"

Xue Shuyu puffed out his chest: "Me."

"No wonder it's so dumb," Chao Cheyun said.

But they played it anyway.

The first one to roll the lowest was Chao Cheyun.

Everyone paused. Xue Shuyu thought for a second and picked a simple question: "Who in this room are you most scared of?"

Chao Cheyun answered: "My big brother."

Xue Shuyu snorted, thinking to himself: Same here.

Next was Xue Shechuan. He didn't even wait—he chose "drink" over "answer" without even hearing the question.

He downed a cup, his face not changing at all.

Xue Shuyu got anxious: "Bro, what's that supposed to mean? What can't you say?"

Xue Shechuan glanced at him: "Plenty."

Xue Shuyu was left speechless.

Third was Wen Buchi.

Ha, finally it was his turn.

Xue Shuyu's eyes lit up instantly. Nan Wuxie's hand, holding his teacup, froze for a second, and he shot Xue Shuyu a look—a look that said a lot.

"Lord Wen," Xue Shuyu leaned in, "I'm gonna ask now."

Wen Buchi looked at him.

"Today—" He dragged out the word.

"Today, out of all these dishes, which one do you like the most?"

…

The whole table went quiet.

"Are you nuts?" Nan Wuxie muttered under his breath.

But Xue Shuyu was amused by the scolding. He just liked being a pain, and he wasn't about to play along with Nan Wuxie.

Wen Buchi pointed at the table: "This rib dish here."

…Well, at least he asked. Now they knew the ribs were good, and anyone who hadn't tried them could give them a shot.

It was several rounds later before it was Wen Buchi's turn again. Xue Shuyu was flitting around like a butterfly, asking everyone's questions. This time, facing Wen Buchi, he thought it over carefully.

"Lord Wen," he said, "out of everyone here, who are you closest to?"

The atmosphere suddenly went dead quiet. Nan Wuxie looked at Xue Shuyu with satisfaction.

Good kid, even a rotten piece of wood can be carved into something.

Then he turned to look at Wen Buchi, his anticipation barely concealed.

Wen Buchi was quiet for a long time. Then he picked up his glass and took a sip.

The whole table erupted.

"Lord Wen, you won't say?" Xue Shuyu was baffled. "It must be so close you can't even talk about it?"

Xue Shechuan glanced at his brother and let out a sigh.

Nan Wuxie set down his teacup, his expression calm, but the slight smile at the corner of his mouth was gone.

Xue Shuyu wouldn't let it go: "No, no, Lord Wen, you gotta give us a rough idea," he thought for a second, then said, "How about this—just tell us his last name, okay?"

…Wen Buchi looked at him. Might as well just tell you.

Wen Buchi said nothing, and the table went quiet again.

Xue Shuyu wasn't embarrassed. He sat there, looking at Wen Buchi, then suddenly spoke: "Then I'll rephrase the question."

Wen Buchi looked up.

"Among everyone here, who would you most..." he paused, as if searching for the right words, "most want to give food to?"

Wen Buchi didn't answer. He drank another cup.

After that, every time it was Wen Buchi's turn, he got the same question. Xue Shuyu wouldn't let it go, insisting on an answer. Wen Buchi had no choice, so he just kept drinking, cup after cup.

By the end of the meal, Xue Shuyu was hammered.

Wen Buchi wasn't.

Xue Shuyu didn't get drunk from playing that stupid game—he had insisted on a drinking contest with Chao Yunping, and in the end, both of them slumped over the table, one yelling "Mom" and the other "Dad," back and forth.

Xue Shechuan, expressionless, grabbed his younger brother and dragged him out.

Chao Cheyun slung his brother over his shoulder and headed out.

They met at the door, looked at each other, and nodded silently in agreement.

We're not coming next time.

Only two people remained in the room.

Wen Buchi got up to leave. As he passed Nan Wuxie, someone grabbed his arm.

From behind, Nan Wuxie's voice said, "You still haven't answered that question from earlier."

Wen Buchi didn't turn around. "Which question?"

"What do you think?"

Wen Buchi was silent for a moment.

"What do you think?"

That second "What do you think?" came from Wen Buchi.

The door clicked shut behind him. Nan Wuxie stared at the closed door for a long time, then smiled.

After a moment, he picked up his chopsticks and took a bite of the sparerib.

It was very sweet.

Sweet and sour—so of course it was sweet.