They looked at one another and laughed, their eyes filled with sparkling starlight.
Lanterns had been hung outside, and Xie Jinglan and Xiahou Lian left the study. Xiahou Lian headed for the kitchen to fetch food, while Xie Jinglan lifted the curtain to the main room and entered. Aunt Lan had already set the table, and she beckoned Xie Jinglan to sit.
Xie Jinglan looked around and noticed that all the servants were present but for one. He asked, “Where’s Lianxiang?”
“I don’t know,” Aunt Lan said. “She’s been missing since this afternoon. She probably went to play with maids from another courtyard. I’m sure she’ll be back soon.”
Xie Jinglan nodded, shrugging it off.
Meanwhile, Xiahou Lian squatted on a walkway, quickly finishing his meal. After returning his bowl and chopsticks to the kitchen, he lifted the curtain and bumped into Lianxiang.
“Are you blind, Xiahou Lian?!” Lianxiang said angrily, rubbing her head.
“Is your head made of iron? That hurt!” Xiahou Lian pouted, then noticed the pouch she held. “Hey—isn’t that the pouch I keep my itching flowers in? How come you have it? You stole my stuff!”
“Ugh! Who’d steal something of yours? I don’t want your stupid pouch!” Lianxiang rolled her eyes and lobbed the pouch at Xiahou Lian.
Xiahou Lian was baffled. Opening the pouch, he saw that the itching flowers were gone.
He picked itching flowers at the manor. They were beautiful, with pink petals tipped with purple. However, they couldn’t be handled carelessly—the slightest contact with them caused red rashes and intense itches.
Xiahou Lian had a habit of collecting strange things, and the itching flowers were prized possessions of his. Lianxiang must’ve taken them to play a prank on someone. Xiahou Lian decided to check his bedding thoroughly. The two of them had always been at odds; the little minx was trying to mess with him.
Dai Shengyan went to Xie Bingfeng to discuss Xie Jinglan’s departure. As expected, Xie Bingfeng was more than happy for Xie Jinglan to leave, preferably never to return. They settled the matter amicably, and Dai Shengyan told Xie Jinglan that, once the weather warmed up, they would depart for their next destination—most likely Shuobei.
Outside attending morning lectures, Xie Jinglan spent his days in the library. As always, Xiahou Lian joined him once he’d finished the laundry, bringing him tea and water. After the recent trouble, and with Xie Jinglan preparing to leave, Xiahou Lian no longer wandered around aimlessly. Instead, he obediently followed Xie Jinglan and was never far from his side.
One day, while Xiahou Lian was idly picking flowers in the garden, Aunt Lan stumbled into the library. “Something awful has happened!” she shouted. “Something awful!”
“What’s wrong?” Xiahou Lian asked, supporting Aunt Lan. Xie Jinglan came over to join them.
“Lianxiang…Lianxiang...”
“What happened to Lianxiang?” Xie Jinglan prompted.
“Lianxiang… The mistress said Lianxiang tried to poison her and ordered that she be…beaten to death. Please hurry to the main courtyard, Shaoye. They’ve already dragged Lianxiang there!”
Xiahou Lian and Xie Jinglan exchanged glances and immediately raced toward the main courtyard, hoping those already there were taking their time.
The path suddenly seemed endless. The enormous Xie residence’s sprawling walkways twisted and turned as if conspiring to delay their arrival at the courtyard. Artificial mountains and rocks loomed before them and blocked their way, and the once-elegant garden scenery now appeared sinister.
The setting sun hung red in the sky, the horizon ablaze. Every now and then, birds darted toward the clouds as if diving into an endless sea of flame.
Panting heavily, they reached the main courtyard’s entrance. Two servants were carrying out a body draped in cloth.
As the servants turned, a hand slipped from under the sheet. It was well maintained, pale and slender, with fingers like peeled scallions and not a hangnail in sight. Xiahou Lian broke down at the sight of that hand; tears streamed down his face as he rushed forward to grab it.
Lianxiang had always prided herself on her hands. She never did laundry or washed dishes, sticking to needlework. She said her hands were meant to weave knots and embroider patterns for Xie Jinglan and must not be ruined. Each morning, she rubbed her hands with scented cream, and she trimmed her nails every few days. Now wooden splinters were embedded between the fingers of those cherished hands, which had clutched the wooden bench while Lianxiang was beaten.
Xiahou Lian remembered her spoiled, willful nature, but also the time she’d secretly brought him steamed buns and water in the woodshed. Her lively smile was still vivid in his mind, but now she was cold and lifeless.
Several servants rushed forward and grabbed Xiahou Lian, pinning him to the ground. He struggled fiercely, watching helplessly as they carried Lianxiang away.
Lady Xiao stood on the steps, wearing a translucent gauze veil. She looked indifferently at Xie Jinglan and Xiahou Lian. Through her veil, they spotted small red spots on her face.
“This maid tried to poison me. I had Steward Liu administer her punishment. What do you have to say about it, Xie Jinglan?” Lady Xiao’s voice carried across the courtyard.
Steward Liu? How could that be? Didn’t Qiu-dage kill him long ago? Confused, Xiahou Lian turned his head and saw the man, who should’ve been long dead. He stood in the courtyard, wearing a familiar smile—the smile of Qiu Ye.
A chill ran through Xiahou Lian’s chest, his back prickling with goosebumps. Wherever Qiye Garden assassins went, blood flowed like a river. He remembered the deal Qiu Ye had struck with the Eastern Depot agents. If Qiu Ye had disguised himself as Steward Liu, was he here to kill Xie Bingfeng?
Xie Jinglan pushed the servants aside and helped Xiahou Lian stand up. “I wouldn’t dare to say anything. I merely came to bid farewell to my former servant. Please, Lady, won’t you grant me that one small courtesy?”
“You might’ve orchestrated this attempted poisoning yourself!”
“Oh, so what if I did? Would you have me killed as well, Lady?” Xie Jinglan asked coldly.
“You—”
Xie Jinglan turned to Xiahou Lian. “Go back and stay with Auntie. I’ll see Lianxiang off.”
Both boys’ eyes were full of deep sorrow.
Xiahou Lian grabbed Xie Jinglan’s wrist. “Shaoye.”
Xie Jinglan shook his head. “I’m fine,” he said softly.
Xiahou Lian nodded, then glanced at Qiu Ye. Qiu Ye bowed to Lady Xiao from a distance, then began following Xiahou Lian out from afar.
When Xiahou Lian reached the garden, Qiu Ye caught up with him.
“Qiu-dage, how come you’re disguised as—”
Qiu Ye pressed a finger to Xiahou Lian’s lips. “Shh. Don’t ask questions.”
Xiahou Lian turned to leave, but Qiu Ye grabbed him. “The girl is still alive.”
Xiahou Lian froze. “What did you say?”
Qiu Ye blinked. “I know she’s your playmate. I left a little life in her, though I can’t say whether her legs will fully recover.”
Gratitude overwhelmed Xiahou Lian. “Qiu-dage, thank you!”
Qiu Ye patted his head. “Do you still want to be an assassin, Xiao-Lian?”
“I...”
“You know, there’s nothing wrong with the mountain. It’s only a bit small. And the world itself is just a giant prison.”
“Qiu-dage, how come none of you want me to be an assassin? Uncle Duan once said something like that, and you’re the same way. Am I really not suited to it?”
“Whether you’re suited to it is something only you can determine. How would I know?” Smiling, Qiu Ye pushed Xiahou Lian. “All right. Go pack your things. Your uncle’s here to take you home.”
Xiahou Lian was stunned. “What? So soon?!”