The window lattice was half open. The sun hung in the sky like a pale shadow with no warmth, spilling a few faint strands of golden light.

Half of Xie Zheng’s face was cast in sunlight, the other half hidden in shadow; his eyes were calm and still, without ripples.

Fan Changyu wanted to deny it, but when her gaze met his, she could not open her mouth. Hugging her knees, she sat down on a low stool to the side, her voice muffled.

“The misfortunes of my family have indeed implicated you twice already. You owe me nothing now. If you draw a clear line between yourself and my family, perhaps you could still be a little safer.”

Xie Zheng asked her, “You believe those words from that ignorant old woman?”

Fan Changyu pressed her lips together and said nothing.

Naturally, she did not believe them. But her parents had passed away, Fan Da had been killed, and Changning and Yan Zheng had nearly lost their lives as well.

If the government troops had not arrived in time last night, it was hard to say whether Aunt Zhao and Carpenter Zhao might have been dragged into it too.

Perhaps… just as Madam Song and Granny Kang had said, she truly bore the fate of a heaven-sent lonely star—and anyone close to her would meet no good end.

Seeing her silent, Xie Zheng needed no further explanation. His finely shaped brows knit slightly as he asked, “You think keeping distance from me is for my own good—then what about your younger sister? Are you going to draw a line between her and yourself as well?”

Fan Changyu’s hands, clasped on her knees, tightened; her heart became a tangled mess.

Yes—she could stay away from the Zhao couple and from Yan Zheng to avoid implicating them, but what about Changning?

Changning was only five years old, and in this world had only her as family.

As she fell silent, Xie Zheng said slowly, “In this world, what’s more frightening than talk of ghosts and fate is the human heart.”

Fan Changyu lifted her almond-shaped eyes, looking a little puzzled.

Xie Zheng’s refined lips tugged lightly, a trace of irony in his tone.

“How could there be so many strange forces and spirits in this world? Even talk of a nation’s fortune is but a trick to deceive the people—how much more so the words of fate and destiny.”

Fan Changyu was still confused. “What do you mean?”

Xie Zheng raised his gaze.

“Some people do evil, then like to use the talk of ghosts and gods as their cover. Just like when you scared that old woman earlier—you told her she fell because she’d been possessed by evil. The old woman, not knowing the truth, was frightened and half-believed it. But you and I both know she fell because she was hit by a pine-nut candy.”

Fan Changyu lowered her eyes. After a long moment, she said softly, “Of course I know the Song family’s talk of fate was only to dissolve the engagement. But it’s also true that calamity has struck my family again and again—that’s why my heart cannot be at peace.”

Xie Zheng said, “Your parents made enemies years ago; they didn’t offend any ghosts or gods. What are you uneasy about?”

Fan Changyu stared at him blankly, thinking how venomous his tongue was—but the knot in her chest did ease a little.

She sighed and said in resignation, “I know all that you’re saying. I just felt upset for a moment after hearing those words. Once the feeling passes, it’ll be fine.”

Xie Zheng was merciless.

“Whoever made you upset—teach them a lesson. Telling me is one thing, but if you even distance yourself from that old couple’s family, just see whether they’ll be sad or pleased.”

Fan Changyu hung her head and said in a low voice, “I’m sorry. I acted on impulse before.”

Xie Zheng’s lashes swept a graceful curve at the corner of his eyes, his expression finally brightening somewhat.

“You’re not the type to endure silently. You came back this morning, got water thrown at you, yet didn’t scold them on the spot—just came back to sulk instead. How admirable.”

Fan Changyu was silent for a moment before saying, “I once heard a saying: ‘The law does not punish the crowd.’ It means that when many people commit a crime, the officials will not punish them all together. Now, everyone in town fears my so-called heaven-sent lonely star fate; the ones gossiping about me behind my back are the whole town. I can teach one person a lesson—but can I teach the entire town?”

Xie Zheng was slightly startled.

In the hidden corner of his heart, her words brushed against something long sealed away, stirring a few layers of dust-covered memory.

He had lost both parents at a young age and was raised in the Wei residence—his road to this day had hardly been smooth.

The feeling of having his ribs broken, his face ground into a mud of blood beneath the embroidered boots of that man’s son—he still remembered it clearly.

Fighting on battlefields, skirting life and death again and again, the military merits he earned with a back full of scars and blade marks—yet simply because his maternal uncle was Wei Yan, he was secretly scorned as a disgrace to the Xie family, accused of lowering himself to act as another man’s dog.

He lifted his eyes slightly, his thin lips parting to spill a few words: “Then have you ever heard of the saying ‘kill the chicken to warn the monkey’?”

“Human nature is evil at its core. If you are weak and easy to bully, no matter how kind you are, few will reach out a hand to help. But if you rise to prominence, even if you truly commit heaven-defying, heartless acts, there will still be a crowd eager to curry your favor. Isn’t your former fiancé just like that?”

Hearing this, Fan Changyu once again fell silent. Hugging her knees, she stared at the glowing red coals in the iron basin, not saying a word.

Xie Zheng’s fingers paused mid-tap on the bamboo chair’s armrest. His eyes narrowed halfway, and his words came edged with a sharpness he himself did not notice.

“Still haven’t let go of that former fiancé of yours? Mention him and you feel upset again?”

Fan Changyu lifted her head to glare at him, baffled for a moment—then she remembered that earlier, to keep him from misunderstanding and thinking she harbored improper thoughts toward him, she had carelessly lied, saying she had not yet gotten over Song Yan.

Lying truly did come with a price.

She opened her mouth, then finally sighed.

“I am a little upset. He passed the provincial exam and earned a title. This year, he’s the only juren in the whole of Qingping County. Even the magistrate holds him in high regard—it’s no wonder others flock to curry favor with him. He has indeed risen high. What do I have to compare with that?”

Xie Zheng gave a short, cold laugh.

“Nothing but a juren. In the Great Yin Empire, the capital and seventeen prefectures produce how many juren each year? What can your former fiancé possibly count for?”

Fan Changyu couldn’t help glancing at him.

“You can say that in front of me, but don’t go saying it before others—they’ll laugh at you.”

Xie Zheng frowned. “Laugh at what?”

Fan Changyu felt he truly had no sense of self-awareness, and said helplessly, “You don’t even have the rank of xiucai [county-level scholar], and yet you speak as though earning a juren title were nothing.”

She paused, then added softly, “I know you’re saying all that just to cheer me up.”

Feeling her own words a bit sentimental, she scratched her head.

“Actually, I just said it offhand. I’m not really that upset inside. Life still goes on as it always does. That he passed the exam and rose in the world—that’s his business. What does it have to do with me? Those who fawn over him and step on me, gossiping a few words behind my back—it’s not as if they’ll gain any benefit from the Song family for it. They’re just being petty and sharp-tongued.”

Xie Zheng’s expression turned odd.

“Why would I cheer you up? A juren truly amounts to nothing.”

Fan Changyu choked for words. “You think you’re some high official yourself?”

Xie Zheng fell silent and said no more.

Fan Changyu found it amusing. Remembering how he could read and write, and even compose essays, she began to plan on his behalf.

“I think you’re quite clever. Your handwriting’s beautiful too. With your injuries recurring like this—the doctor said if they don’t heal properly, you’ll likely have lasting ailments. Escorting caravans is dangerous work. Why don’t you study for the keju [imperial examination]? Maybe you could become a juren too—and even earn an official post someday!”

Xie Zheng: “…My ambitions do not lie in the court.”

Fan Changyu sighed. “That’s a pity.”

Half in jest, she said, “If you ever do get the chance to become an official—and your rank ends up higher than that Song fellow’s—I’ll be counting on you to make things difficult for him on my behalf!”

Xie Zheng’s brow lifted ever so slightly.

“All right,” he said.

With that little bit of jesting, the earlier gloom between them was completely gone.

Fan Changyu suddenly remembered the chicken soup she had been stewing.

“There’s still chicken soup simmering in the clay pot—it should be ready by now. I’ll go ladle some out for you.”

As she rose, her gaze fell upon the paper bag by his bed—the one that had once been plump with candies, now deflated.

Her heart ached.

“I’ll find you some pebbles later. Don’t use candies for hitting people next time—they’re expensive! What a waste!”

After she went downstairs, Xie Zheng’s eyes rested on those paper packets that had once held sweets. His brows drew together.

He had never liked eating sweet things. In the past, every aspect of his food and clothing had been taken care of by the soldiers beneath him; he truly had no sense of how costly such things were.

Her purse had always been tight—if these candies were so expensive, and yet she’d bought them for him, was it merely because she’d once misunderstood, thinking he feared the bitterness of his medicine?

A faintly tangled feeling welled in his chest as he slowly closed his eyes.

· ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Two days later, Zheng Wenchang returned to the small town of Lin’an with government troops in tow.

When Fan Changyu heard the news, she went to the gate to meet them.

Seated high on horseback, Zheng Wenchang said, “The several murder cases in town have now been clarified—the culprits were indeed mountain bandits.”

At this answer, Fan Changyu’s heart gave a heavy thump.

“But my house was broken into by thugs twice…” she began.

Zheng Wenchang cut her off.

“The two attacks on your home stem from a shipment your father once escorted years ago. Rumor has it that what he carried then was a treasure map belonging to the former royal family. Over ten years ago, the entire escort bureau was slaughtered by those seeking to seize the map. Your father barely escaped with his life and only then managed to live peacefully for some years. Recently, with the unrest in Chongzhou, the matter of that treasure map was brought up again. Some bandits traced your father’s whereabouts and repeatedly came to your home searching for the map.”

This explanation indeed accounted for all the strange events that had befallen Lin’an in recent days.

Fan Changyu asked, “So my parents… they were also killed by those mountain bandits?”

Zheng Wenchang frowned slightly, avoiding her gaze.

“Of course.”

Learning the true cause of her parents’ deaths, Fan Changyu’s heart grew heavy once more.

She thought, perhaps that was why her father had taught her martial arts but forbidden her from showing her skills in public—to avoid attracting such villains.

“I never once heard my parents mention any treasure map,” she said. “Could there be some mistake in all this?”

Zheng Wenchang replied, “The news that the map was in your father’s hands was, naturally, false. A few days ago, the rebels in Chongzhou announced that they had obtained that treasure map. The mountain bandits will not come to town again—you may set your heart completely at ease.”

Then he gestured with his hand. A soldier stepped forward, bearing a tray laden with silver taels.

Zheng Wenchang looked at her, his gaze holding a faint, almost imperceptible strangeness.

“His Excellency He, Prefect of Jizhou, deeply sympathizes with the people. He has specially ordered this officer to deliver fifty taels of condolence silver.”

Fan Changyu expressed her thanks sincerely.

The townsfolk praised from all sides: “Lord He truly is a clear and upright official of Jizhou! All those harmed by the mountain bandits, all those who lost family, have been given compensation from the court!”

Someone asked, “But I heard other families received only twenty-five taels. Why did the Fan family get fifty?”

At once, another answered, “Those families lost only one person. Both Fan Er and his wife were killed—of course the amount they received would be greater.”

With the case now closed, the official seal upon the Fan family’s gate was finally removed.

Fan Changyu cleaned every corner of the house inside and out—especially the courtyard and rooms where blood had been spilled.

She rinsed them several times with water, then boiled pomelo leaves to make an infusion and sprinkled it all around, saying it would dispel evil and ward off misfortune.

After everything in the house had been tidied and put in order, Fan Changyu finally brought Changning and Xie Zheng back from the neighbor’s home.

She lit a stick of incense and placed it before her parents’ memorial tablets. A faint sting touched the corners of her eyes as she murmured, “Father, Mother… you may rest in peace now.”

Only Xie Zheng stood there, brows furrowed deeply.

He had long known that those men were Wei family’s death guards; they could not possibly be the so-called “mountain bandits” Zheng Wenchang spoke of.

And what they sought was certainly not some ridiculous treasure map.

Yet the officials had deliberately fabricated such a convincing tale just to close the case—and even sent silver to the affected families. They had indeed gone to great lengths.

Still, Xie Zheng could not make sense of it.

If He Jingyuan truly wished to obtain that letter on behalf of Wei Yan, then he ought to have sent troops to seal off the Fan residence and search it thoroughly.

But instead, he had returned the house to Fan Changyu and taken great pains to pacify the town by resolving the murder cases—almost as if he wished not to disturb her life, to let her remain quietly here in Lin’an.

What was He Jingyuan’s intent?

Or could it be… that he acted so because the letter sought by the Wei family’s death guards was no longer in the Fan household?

Xie Zheng’s gaze turned toward the two memorial tablets upon the offering table.

He Jingyuan must surely know the true identities of that couple—and perhaps, he too knew the secret of that letter.