Chapter 51

For a moment, Fu Tingjun felt as if she were sitting on a bed of needles.

She felt it necessary to remind Zhao Ling of something, so she asked A Sen, "When are you going back? Help me deliver a message to Ninth Master."

A Sen's mood suddenly sank again. "Ninth Master said to let me stay here with you for now and not go back."

Fu Tingjun was somewhat surprised. "Then who's attending to him?" The words had barely left her mouth when her heart gave a sudden lurch.

Zhao Ling, alone at the Xisheng Inn.

Together with Mo Yi, who was watching him.

Even A Sen, who could run errands for him, had been sent off to Yangliu Lane.

And Yang Yucheng had rented a courtyard next to the one they were staying in...

He... what was he planning to do?

Just thinking about it made a chill run down Fu Tingjun's spine.

She hurried out of the hall, calling in a loud voice, "Zheng San! Zheng San!"

Her voice was high and piercing.

Zheng San hurried over from the eastern passageway. "Miss!"

Before he could even bow, she said urgently, "Go quietly and see what Yang Yucheng and Jin Yuanbao are up to."

Zheng San was taken aback, but quickly regained his composure. He asked no questions and went off at once.

A Sen rushed out. "Miss, Miss Fu, what's happened?"

Fu Tingjun didn't know either. She felt a vague sense of unease.

She wanted to ask A Sen in detail what Zhao Ling had said when he sent him over, but seeing A Sen's tense expression, she suddenly realized that here—the old, the young, the outsiders, the serving women—she was the only one who could make decisions.

She couldn't panic, and she certainly couldn't lose her composure. If she became flustered, A Sen and the others would be even more at a loss.

Fu Tingjun admonished herself and quickly calmed down.

"What could possibly happen?" She smiled at A Sen. "I was just thinking—since we're all here, what about Ninth Master? I asked Zheng San to check on what Young Master Yang is doing. If he's not busy, I'd like to ask him to visit Ninth Master more often, so Ninth Master won't be lonely staying there by himself."

A Sen's gaze flickered uneasily, but he pressed his lips tightly together and said nothing.

Fu Tingjun grew suspicious but didn't show it. Smiling, she went back inside with A Sen.

After washing up, she had lunch accompanied by Madam Lyu. Knowing that Zheng San still hadn't returned, she went inside to take an afternoon nap.

She lay down, but her mind kept racing like a revolving lantern.

They say a cunning hare has three burrows. Zhao Ling moved through the martial world—though he couldn't be compared to a cunning hare, the world was unpredictable, and with his intelligence, he would surely keep a few tricks up his sleeve.

Yangliu Lane was a place he had managed for five years. Not only did he keep two people there, but he had also set up a shop, doing everything possible to make the place look flawless. Who knew how much effort and energy he had poured into it? She simply couldn't believe it wasn't his fallback plan.

Yet now, he had placed her here... A Sen had grown up following him. In name they were master and servant, but in truth he treated him like family... while she shared no kinship with him at all...

Thinking of this, she turned over in bed.

Before, she hadn't known, and had assumed he was trying to avoid suspicion, thinking the worst of him. Now she realized she had wronged him.

Yet he had offered not a single word of explanation.

If she hadn't happened to ask A Sen on a whim, was he planning to keep it from her forever?

Fu Tingjun thought of his lonely figure when she left the Xisheng Inn, his deep, distant gaze, and her heart ached. Her eyes grew moist.

He was always like this—saying nothing, yet thinking of everything for her.

He was only six years older than her.

So steady, so reserved.

At this thought, something seemed to well up inside her, warm and swelling, making her cheeks burn.

From outside came Linchun's giggling, along with Zheng Sanniang's laughing scolding: "Stop that, be careful not to wake the young miss—she hasn't slept for two days and two nights."

Had she really gone that long without sleep?

Yet she didn't feel sleepy at all!

Fu Tingjun thought for a moment, then got up, pushed open the window, and looked outside.

A Sen had somehow caught a caterpillar and was alternately placing it on Linchun's little arm and then on her little leg. Linchun couldn't shake it off and couldn't catch it either. The two little ones were having a grand time, leaving Zheng Sanniang at a loss whether to laugh or cry.

"A Sen!" Fu Tingjun waved to him.

A Sen and Zheng Sanniang both came running over.

"Take Linchun down for a rest!" Fu Tingjun instructed Zheng Sanniang, then said to A Sen, "I have something to ask you!"

Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkling—radiant with a hint of shyness, like a peony bud about to bloom. A Sen stared, his eyes going wide, and only came to his senses after a long moment before running into the hall. "What is it?"

"Sit down and talk!" Fu Tingjun pointed to the chair beside her and handed him a cup of tea. "I have something to ask you." Her tone carried a hint of hesitation.

A Sen had something on his mind, and looking at her, he couldn't help showing a trace of timidity first. "What... what is it? Some things I know, and some things I don't know either."

Fu Tingjun had matters weighing on her mind as well, so she didn't pay much attention to such a flawed statement. Instead, she bit her red lips and pondered for a long while before speaking with a hint of caution: "You've followed Ninth Master for so many years, you even know places like Willow Lane. Have you ever met Ninth Master's family?"

"Never have!" A Sen answered without a second thought.

He answered so quickly—clearly his conscience was bothering him.

Fu Tingjun didn't believe him at all. She said coldly, "You don't need to play games with me. I know—Ninth Master is a salt smuggler."

A Sen was utterly shocked. He slid off his chair and landed on the floor with a thud, pointing at Fu Tingjun in terror: "You—how do you know?"

So he really was a salt smuggler!

She should have been afraid, so why did she instead feel a sense of relief deep down?

Fu Tingjun muttered to herself, but her expression grew even colder: "Throughout this journey, Ninth Master only resorted to killing in Dong'an Village and the City God Temple in Linchun. The rest of the time, he merely knocked out the refugees who robbed us. This shows Ninth Master is not a man who bullies the weak. So how could he have formed a life-and-death feud with Feng Laosi? Other than a conflict of interests, I can think of no other possibility." At this point, she fixed A Sen with a fierce stare, feigning intimidation. "You must have refused to submit to the Feng Family's control and competed with them for business—you even set your sights on the Feng Family and stole their salt. That's why Feng Laosi disregarded his status as family head and personally came after Ninth Master." Then her tone shifted, and she said slowly, "In Shaanxi, only Lintong and Putian have well salt. Putian is barely a hundred li from Huayin. You must have stolen the salt from the Feng Family's Putian well, then taken a detour through Huayin toward Xi'an Prefecture. But you never expected a flood of refugees to surge in, looting all the food and drink. And since you didn't dare enter Huayin city, you had silver but nowhere to buy food—so you set your sights on Biyun Nunnery..."

A Sen jumped up, scurried behind the table, and stared at Fu Tingjun with utter shock on his face.

"What are you afraid of?" Fu Tingjun's face darkened as she barked. "Come over here and sit properly. I have serious matters to discuss with you."

"What—what matters?" A Sen was like a mouse facing a cat, cautiously sizing up Fu Tingjun as he shuffled his feet, as if lead weights were tied to his legs. He could barely move an inch.

Fu Tingjun was equal parts exasperated and amused, barely managing to keep her stern expression.

"That Mo Yi is merely a steward under Sixteenth Master. Not only can he provide us with good food and drink, he can even get us into the city. Even Ninth Master probably couldn't do much better than that, could he?" She interrogated A Sen. "Clearly he's a capable man, yet he serves that Sixteenth Master. Sixteenth Master's identity must be even more extraordinary."

A Sen had long suspected that Zhao Ling had a purpose in keeping him at Willow Lane. Now hearing Fu Tingjun's words, he thought about how clever she was—they hadn't told her anything, yet she could guess their affairs with remarkable accuracy. If she was saying these things about Mo Yi, there must be a reason, and it must be connected to Ninth Master.

He couldn't help but nod and said, "Mo Yi is a guerrilla general under Marquis of Yingchuan, Meng Shu. He's from the Mo clan of Luyi, and he has an uncle named Mo Shang, who is currently the Commander-in-Chief of Guangdong."

This time it was Fu Tingjun's turn to be utterly shocked: "Who told you this?"

Although she didn't know who Meng Shu and Mo Shang were, she knew that both the Commander-in-Chief of Gansu and the Commander-in-Chief of Guangdong were great generals commanding heavy troops.

"Brother Yuanbao told me," A Sen murmured. "It was the Master who sent him to find out."

Something seemed to flash through her mind—she felt it was important and wanted to grasp it, but it vanished without a trace.

"How can this be? How can this be?" Fu Tingjun had no time to attend to the original purpose of summoning A Sen. Her face pale, she began pacing around the room.

A Sen watched with his heart racing: "Miss Fu, you—what have you figured out?"

Mo Yi, Sixteenth Master, Marquis of Yingchuan, Mo Shang, Zhao Ling... They were like beads scattered across the floor. She struggled to string them together but could never find the thread. She had no attention to spare for A Sen.

A Sen was frantic with worry. He sat there muttering, "I really have never met Ninth Master's family... Ninth Master said his parents passed away long ago, and he had no family left, which is why he came to the northwest to seek a livelihood..." As if only by saying this could he dispel the anxiety in his heart.

Fu Tingjun was drawn in by his fragments of words.

She stopped pacing and murmured, "Then—then he never married?" Her face had already flushed red enough to drip blood, and she added in an attempt to cover it up, "You've been away from home for quite some time, haven't you? With the famine now and the world in such chaos, and us being watched by Mo Yi and his men, unable to move—surely someone should send word to Ninth Master's family to reassure them, or send them some silver to live on?"

A Sen felt that Fu Tingjun's words were a bit strange, but upon careful reflection, he found her concern reasonable.

"No, Ninth Master isn't married." He shook his head. "Plenty of people in the underworld want to marry into his family, but Ninth Master said that as long as he lives a life on the edge of a blade, he can't take a wife."

Like watching spring flowers bloom or hearing summer insects chirp, Fu Tingjun felt the sky was high, the clouds were soft, and the world was so beautiful.

A joyful smile couldn't help but bloom across her face.

Isn't Ninth Master in danger right now?

Why is Miss Fu so happy?

A Sen looked at Fu Tingjun strangely. "What are you smiling about?"

"When did I smile?" Fu Tingjun didn't realize it herself.

"If you don't believe me, go back to your room and look in the mirror." A Sen's eyes were wide open.

Fu Tingjun was startled, then ran back to the inner chamber.

On the red-lacquered, gold-painted dressing case was set a bronze mirror the size of a palm, reflecting a face smiling as brilliantly as summer flowers.