—“What exactly is this boy’s relationship with Han Shui Palace?”
—“If he truly belongs to Han Shui Palace, even the domineering Xing Yun Manor wouldn’t dare provoke the Matriarch over him.”
Huo Xiao Di chimed in, “That’s true. I’ve also heard that everyone at Han Shui Palace is exceptionally skilled. Even the servants who sweep the floors and cook meals are masters of martial arts. Based on that, the boy can’t possibly be one of them. Otherwise, why wouldn’t he know even the basics of martial arts? And why would the Matriarch force him to drink poison from such a young age?”
Zhan Ri Fei seemed either not to hear or not to acknowledge Huo Xiao Di’s remarks. Instead, he murmured, “Everyone at Han Shui Palace is indeed cherished by the Matriarch and taught martial arts. Naturally, she wouldn’t use poison to coerce her followers.”
As he spoke, a spasm crossed his face, likely from the pain of his injuries. He winced and drew a sharp breath. “But sometimes, the most illogical explanation turns out to be the most plausible one.”
His words abruptly stopped.
A soft “tap” interrupted him as a small porcelain bottle flew across the fire and landed in his lap. Huo Xiao Di’s deliberately nonchalant voice followed from across the flames.
—“Your wound hurts again? Then take another Ling Long Honey Pill.”
—“Why do you always insist on enduring the pain? If it were Little Zhao, he’d already be groaning, rolling around on the bed, and crying his heart out. And I’ve never heard anyone say that makes him less of a hero and more of a coward.”
Though his tone was sharp, his gaze was warm. On the other side of the fire, Zhan Ri Fei’s eyes carried the same warmth. It wasn’t clear whether this warmth stemmed from the fire or from the mutual acquaintance they both shared. Slowly, it began to fill the space between them, surrounding them both.
Huo Xiao Di didn’t take his eyes off Zhan Ri Fei, watching him swallow the pill as though ready to grab a whip and ensure compliance.
Zhan Ri Fei couldn’t help but chuckle. “I never imagined someone from Ling Long Manor could sometimes be more meticulous than a young lady.”
The words had barely left his mouth before he wished he could swallow a different pill—one for regret.
Huo Xiao Di reacted as if someone had stepped on his tail. He leapt up like an angry tiger, baring his rabbit-like teeth in a sharp grimace. His hands were already on his hips, his stance brimming with readiness to argue.
Zhan Ri Fei chose that moment to say something—something that instantly turned the tiger into a kitten.
—“Why are you bringing up Little Zhao so much tonight?”
Hearing this, Huo Xiao Di shot him a fierce glare but then, surprisingly, sat back down with a sulky expression. Even as he sat, he mumbled under his breath, “If it weren’t for the fact that you’re injured and I’m waiting to hear your reasoning, I wouldn’t bother putting up with your nonsense!”
* * *
The pinewood torches emitted a greasy, choking smoke.
Under the flickering light of the torches, Yan Zi Qing’s face appeared slick and oily.
The soldiers standing respectfully beside him held the torches high above their heads to give him a clear view of the ground in front of him.
All Yan Zi Qing did was crouch down lightly and pinch a handful of damp soil from the ground.
When he stood back up, the soil clinging to his fingers was still sticky.
It was soil stained with blood.
He turned around and said, “It seems there’s been a fight here, and someone bled.”
“There were at least four people here. One of them hardly moved throughout the conflict, and their martial arts skills seem to be the weakest of the group.”
“Judging by the varying depths of their footprints, the struggle was quite intense.”
Behind him, Mo Dao had been silently observing the scattered leaves on the ground.
Once tender and vibrant green, the fallen leaves had been soaked by days of rain. In the flickering torchlight, they now resembled the blood-red leaves of late autumn.
—But autumn had not yet arrived, so where had all these fallen leaves come from?
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