Chapter 463 Familiar

Chapter 463 Familiar

Lin Nanshu lowered his eyes, and the hand that had been suspended in mid-air slowly came down.

He was silent for a long time—so long that Cheng Ge thought he wasn't going to answer.

Then he heard Lin Nanshu let out a soft sigh. "...I don't know where Prince Yun is either."

Cheng Ge: "How was I cured of the poison?"

Lin Nanshu's hand clenched slightly. He opened his mouth, as if to say something.

But before the words could leave his lips, Cheng Ge had already cut him off. "Was it Yun Xunyu?"

Lin Nanshu didn't refute it, but that silence weighed more heavily than any words.

Cheng Ge's chest tightened, and his voice trembled slightly. "Is he still alive?"

Lin Nanshu looked away from Cheng Ge, his voice so low it was barely audible.

"...I don't know either."

The carriage fell completely silent—so quiet they could hear each other's breathing. It was suffocating, oppressive.

Cheng Ge said nothing more. He lowered his head and stared at the two severed rope ends in his hands, motionless.

The carriage stopped at the gate of the Cui Manor. Cheng Ge stepped down and didn't look back.

He walked through the gate, crossed the corridor, and returned to his own courtyard.

The door closed behind him.

Lin Nanshu stood outside the courtyard, staring at the closed door, silent for a long time.

That evening, Cheng Ge didn't come out to eat.

The food Lü Rou brought in came back out almost untouched.

Cui Ji stood outside the door for a long time, but in the end, he never knocked.

………

In the dead of night.

"Creak—" A figure poked their head out of the room, glancing furtively left and right.

Then Cheng Ge crept out, hunched over, wearing only one shoe, the other clutched in his hand.

He glanced back at the closed door, confirmed no one had noticed, and breathed a sigh of relief.

With one bare foot, he tiptoed down the corridor and made his way to the back courtyard.

Dahuang was sleeping soundly, sprawled on his back, belly rising and falling, occasionally smacking his lips—probably dreaming about gnawing on some bone.

Cheng Ge crouched down and clamped his hand over the dog's snout.

Dahuang's eyes flew open, and he nearly jumped up in fright, but Cheng Ge held him down firmly.

"Shh—" Cheng Ge pressed a finger to his lips. "It's me."

Dahuang blinked, recognized him, and relaxed. His tail wagged eagerly, and his tongue lolled out, trying to lick Cheng Ge's hand.

Cheng Ge didn't let him. He quickly pulled two big strips of jerky from his sleeve and stuffed them into the dog's mouth.

Dahuang's ears perked up.

He chewed, eyes brightening, tail wagging like a windmill.

Cheng Ge pulled something else from inside his clothes.

It was a small piece of cloth—dirty and stained with dried blood.

He held it under Dahuang's nose.

"Smell this." He lowered his voice. "Find this person."

Dahuang sniffed it, then looked up at him, looking confused.

Cheng Ge pulled out the two severed rope ends and waved them in front of him.

"He gave me these," he said. "Now they're snapped."

Dahuang cocked his head.

Cheng Ge shoved both the cloth and the rope under the dog's nose.

"Help me track him down."

Dahuang sniffed again—this time for longer.

Then he stood up, shook his fur, and headed toward the courtyard gate.

After a couple of steps, he looked back at Cheng Ge.

Cheng Ge followed.

Man and dog slipped quietly out of the courtyard and through the back gate of the Cui Manor.

The night was as thick as ink, and the streets were completely empty.

Only the occasional clack of the night watchman's rattle echoed in the distance, each beat striking at the heart.

The rattle grew closer, accompanied by a long, drawn-out call: "Dry weather, beware of fire—"

Cheng Ge instinctively flattened himself against the wall, pulling Dahuang in with him.

Man and dog pressed into the shadows, waiting until the watchman had slowly ambled past before they poked their heads out again.

Dahuang shook his head and lowered his nose to the ground, sniffing intently, nose nearly scraping the dirt.

He walked with a swagger, tail held high, every step radiating "I'm a professional."

Cheng Ge followed behind, one foot bare, stepping unevenly on the flagstones, the cold shooting from the soles of his feet straight to the top of his head.

Man and dog crossed two alleys, then skirted a crumbling wall.

The surroundings grew more desolate. Moonlight fell on the mottled walls, casting eerie shadows.

Dahuang came to a sudden stop.

It stopped in front of a large pile of junk and trash, lowered its head to sniff, then raised a paw and nudged Cheng Ge's good leg.

After that, it looked up at Cheng Ge, tail wagging furiously, letting out excited whimpers from its throat.

Cheng Ge's heart lurched.

He looked down at the pile of trash—broken wooden planks stacked haphazardly, scraps of cloth dangling from the gaps, a few battered baskets toppled to one side, all piled into a sinister little mound.

Moonlight fell upon it, and the shadows cast by the debris looked like gnarled, menacing shapes.

Cheng Ge's breath quickened all at once.

He thought of Yun Xunyu's flashy face, the way he always dressed to the nines, all loud and showy.

Someone like that—how could he be in this garbage heap?

But if not... then why did Dahuang bring him here?

Cheng Ge's Adam's apple bobbed, and his eyes went red.

He crouched down, hands trembling, and started digging through the pile.

He shoved aside a broken plank.

Tossed a scrap of cloth away.

Shoved a battered basket out of the way—

He dug faster and faster, growing more frantic, his breathing heavier.

Moonlight shone on his pale face, sweat beading on his forehead, the debris digging into his palms with a sharp sting.

"Yun Xunyu... Yun Xunyu..." he muttered, his voice shaking.

Layer after layer of junk was peeled away, revealing what lay beneath—a large meat bone.

Cheng Ge: "..."

Dahuang padded over, sniffed the bone, then picked it up and dropped it at Cheng Ge's feet.

It looked up at him, tail wagging like crazy, letting out excited whimpers.

Cheng Ge's tears instantly dried up.

He looked down at the big bone by his feet, then at Dahuang's overjoyed face.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

He lunged, locking Dahuang's throat in an arm lock.

"YELP—!"

Dahuang's four paws kicked wildly in the air, tail bolt upright in panic.

Cheng Ge kept the hold, grinding his teeth.

"You dragged me all over hell and back for a goddamn bone?!"

Dahuang's paws kept flailing, letting out pitiful whimpers.

Cheng Ge squeezed harder.

"Where's Yun Xunyu? Where is he?! If you don't find him, I'll get the butcher on West Street to neuter you!"

Dahuang's paws froze mid-air.

Neuter?

It stared at Cheng Ge with wide, shocked eyes.

Cheng Ge stared back with a deadpan expression, a cold, ruthless look in his gaze. Dahuang's tail instantly tucked between its legs.

It squirmed out from under Cheng Ge's arm, shot a hesitant glance at the big bone, then at Cheng Ge's furious face.

Then it quickly snatched up the bone, pawed a few broken planks over it, and covered it up good.

After covering it, it looked back once, eyes full of longing, like it didn't want to leave it.

Cheng Ge: "............"

Dahuang shook its head, lowered it again, and this time sniffed far more seriously than before.

Its nose nearly touched the ground, tail no longer held high but tucked tight, every step taken with care.

It sniffed a few paces, glanced back at Cheng Ge, and let out a low whimper, signaling him to follow.

They continued on, and this time Dahuang was far more obedient—no more looking around, focused entirely on sniffing the ground.

Cheng Ge limped along behind, his bare foot already numb from the cold.

They passed through the first alley.

Then the second.

The third.

Cheng Ge began to suspect the dog was leading him in circles.

"Dahuang," he called in a low voice, "are you lost?"

Dahuang looked back at him with an innocent look, then lowered its head and kept sniffing.

Cheng Ge had no choice but to keep following.

A couple streets later, Dahuang suddenly perked up, tail wagging furiously, and trotted into a narrow alley.

Cheng Ge hurried after it.

The alley was deep, the walls on both sides tall, no moonlight getting in—pitch black, so dark you couldn't see your hand in front of your face.

Cheng Ge felt his way along the wall, stumbling forward, nearly tripping several times.

"Dahuang?" he called softly.

A low whimper came from ahead, urging him on.

Cheng Ge gritted his teeth and kept walking. He didn't know how long he'd been going when the scene suddenly opened up before him.

The alley ended at a flagstone road. A few scattered houses lined both sides, most of them dark and quiet, with only one or two windows casting dim yellow light.

Dahuang stopped, sniffed around, then turned left.

Cheng Ge followed.

To the left was an even narrower alley, barely wide enough for one person.

Vines clung to the walls on both sides, throwing strange shadows in the moonlight.

Dahuang led the way, his tail held high, his steps steady and sure.

Cheng Ge followed, turning one corner, then another.

He counted them—seven turns in all.

At the eighth turn, Dahuang came to a sudden stop.

It lowered its head in front of a door, sniffed at the threshold, then looked up at Cheng Ge, letting out an excited whimper.

Cheng Ge stepped forward and looked at the door.

It was a half-worn vermilion wooden door, the paint somewhat chipped, with two brass lion-head door knockers.

His heart suddenly started pounding. He reached out and pushed the door.

With a creak, the door swung open.

He found himself looking at a small courtyard.

Moonlight spilled down, revealing a flagstone path, with flowers and shrubs on either side.

Against the wall stood several pots of orchids, with long, slender leaves.

In the corner stood a stone table and two stone stools. On the table sat a teapot and two teacups.

Cheng Ge's gaze swept past the courtyard and landed on the window where a lamp was lit.

Dim yellow light seeped through the paper-covered window, looking especially desolate in the lonely night.

He walked forward step by step, the flagstones beneath his feet making faint sounds.

Dahuang followed behind him, silent this time.

Cheng Ge stood before the door, his hand raised and lowered, lowered and raised.

He didn't know why he was afraid.

He'd searched for so long, yet now that he was actually standing before this door, he suddenly couldn't bring himself to push it open.

"Woof—" Dahuang crouched at his feet, looking up at him, letting out a soft bark.

Cheng Ge took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

Inside, a lamp was lit, casting a dim yellow glow. There was a table, a few chairs, and a shelf against the wall holding several books.

A faint smell of medicine hung in the air, with an undertone of blood.

On the table lay an oil-paper package printed with "Yue Ji Crispy Cake."

Cheng Ge's gaze paused on the package for a moment, then swept past the outer room toward the layers of blue curtains hanging deeper inside.

Layer upon layer, they hung from the beams to the floor, shielding everything from view.

Cheng Ge stepped forward, reached out, and parted the curtains, pushing through them layer by layer.

The smell of blood grew stronger.

Cheng Ge swallowed hard, his own heartbeat thundering in his ears.

Thud... thud... thud...

Each beat pounded against his eardrums, weighing on his chest until he could barely breathe.

The blue fabric slipped through his fingertips, cool and damp, as if it had been soaked in water.

He looked down and noticed several handkerchiefs lying on the floor.

White ones, stained completely red, crumpled into balls, crumpled in the corner.

The bloodstains had dried, now dark brown patches with blackened edges.

Cheng Ge's fingertips trembled. A wave of inexplicable unease swept over him.

He kept walking forward, parting the curtains one after another. He didn't know how many layers he'd parted.

All he knew was that his hands were shaking, his fingertips quivering, he couldn't steady them no matter how tightly he gripped the fabric.

Until he reached the last layer.

He reached out, hesitated, his fingertips hovering in midair, just an inch from the fabric—yet he suddenly couldn't bring himself to pull it aside.

"Woof—" A soft bark came from behind.

Cheng Ge turned. Dahuang crouched outside the curtains, watching him through a gap in the curtains, its tail wagging gently.

Cheng Ge took a deep breath and pushed aside the final curtain.

Light fell from the side, spilling across the bed, revealing the figure lying there.

The person lay on their side, beneath several layers of brocade quilts, only one shoulder exposed.

That shoulder was gaunt and thin, barely making a bump beneath the quilts, like a thin leaf pressed flat.

And beside the pillow lay a spread of white hair, covering half the bed, the ends trailing to the edge of the bed, nearly touching the floor.

Cheng Ge's mind felt like it had been struck a heavy blow—completely blank.

He stood by the curtain, frozen.

His gaze fixed on that bed covered in white hair. The lamplight was dim, but it stung his eyes.

He wanted to move, but his feet seemed rooted to the ground.

He opened his mouth, but his throat felt tight, and not a single word would come out.

After a long while.

Maybe it was just a moment.

He finally took the first step.

His footsteps were soft, so soft, as if afraid of startling something.

The wooden floor beneath him gave the faintest creaks, one after another.

He rounded the bed and came to stand before the man.

He looked down.

His eyes were closed.

His face was pale, almost translucent, like a thin sheet of paper that would tear at the lightest touch.

His cheekbones stood out, his cheeks were hollow, and his chin was painfully sharp.

His lashes cast a faint shadow beneath his closed lids, fluttering faintly with each breath.

But his breathing was so faint, it was barely perceptible.

His lips were colorless and chapped, split in several small places.

Some had scabbed over, while others still showed faint traces of blood, as if they'd just split open.

That brow, those features—it was Yun Xunyu.

But that head of white hair, that face so gaunt it was almost unrecognizable—

Cheng Ge stood at the bedside, staring down at him.

Tears were falling before he even knew it.

Silent and sudden, they just streamed down his cheeks, drop by drop, soaking into his collar.