Chapter 56

Chapter 56

Xie Qiu died with his eyes wide open.

Blood spread in sheets beneath his feet.

Zhou Wei did not miss the bewilderment in Xie Qiu’s eyes in the moment before he breathed his last.

Xie Qiu had never even remembered the name of the farming family whose wife he had once defiled by force when he was Prefect of Suzhou Prefecture, nor the name of the entire household he had silenced afterward to cover it up.

Outside the window, Sheng Zhaoning stood on the second-floor eaves, watching the scene with great interest.

She held her sword in her arms and coldly watched Xie Qiu’s breath leave him on the floor.

When the guards outside sensed something was wrong and burst in, Zhou Wei was already climbing out the window to escape.

Half his body had just emerged when he came face-to-face with Sheng Zhaoning outside the window. The man’s unruly gaze froze. His foot slipped, and he nearly pitched off the building.

“Still not running?” Sheng Zhaoning raised a brow at him.

Zhou Wei frowned. He had no time to wonder why she was here. With a cold snort, he leapt out the window and swept away into the distance.

The guards broke through the door and came charging after him.

Sheng Zhaoning did not linger either. She flipped up onto the roof of Baoyue Tower to keep herself from being dragged into the trouble.

Xie Qiu was already dead, so there was no need for her to act. It had saved her a bit of bother.

Standing atop the tall building, Sheng Zhaoning caught sight of Zhou Wei fleeing into the distance, followed by a mighty swarm of pursuers.

Beneath the moon, she lifted a jar of wine she had conveniently taken and raised it toward Zhou Wei from afar.

“Good luck.”

–

News of the murder of Xie Qiu, Censor of the Censorate, soon reached Capital City.

The Emperor flew into a rage and ordered a thorough investigation.

Xuzhou and the three neighboring prefectures were sealed off layer by layer. People were forbidden from leaving, soldiers patrolled day and night, wanted notices were posted all over the city, and everyone in the streets lived in fear.

Sheng Zhaoning buried her sword again and holed up in Guanlan Waterside Pavilion, returning to her role as the proper eldest legitimate grandson of the Sheng Family.

It was as if the Sheng Zhaoning who had stood outside Baoyue Tower that night amid all that killing intent had never appeared at all.

It snowed in Xuzhou, a rare occurrence.

Old Madam Sheng had already made her decision. After the New Year, she would send Sheng Zhaoning to Capital City.

Once Sheng Zhaoning passed the Metropolitan Examination and made the list, they would discuss moving the entire family to the Capital.

Sheng Zhaoning had no objections to this.

Lady Lu, on the other hand, could not stop worrying about her traveling to Capital City alone. She fretted for days and began preparing what Sheng Zhaoning would need on the road well in advance.

Watching the luggage grow more and more swollen, from one bundle to two, then from two to three, with an obvious trend toward further expansion, Sheng Zhaoning felt deeply helpless.

She was going to sit for an exam, not haul freight.

In the end, at Sheng Zhaoning’s strong insistence, the bundles were reduced from seven to five.

A carriage stopped in front of the Confucian Temple.

The snow in Xuzhou was strange. While it drifted through the air, it still looked like snow, a clean white expanse, but once it fell to the ground, it became a thin layer of icy grit, vanishing without a trace.

There were less than four months until the Spring Imperial Examination, and Old Madam Sheng insisted on bringing Sheng Zhaoning to the Confucian Temple to pray for blessings.

Before they left, Biyun had deliberately changed her into a thick cloak. After she got off the carriage, it did indeed keep out quite a bit of the damp chill.

The group climbed the steps and made their way to the main hall.

Old Madam Sheng knelt before the Statue of the Literary Sage, kowtowed devoutly, and prayed, “Honored Literary Sage, please bless my grandson so he may rank high in the Metropolitan Examination. We dare not ask for first-class honors, only that his name appear on the list…”

Sheng Zhaoning lifted her head and looked at the bronze statue. Incense burned thickly on the altar, and most of the people around them were scholars praying for success in the examinations. Incense sticks were constantly added to the burner; as one batch burned down, another was placed in, day and night without cease.

Old Madam Sheng remained kneeling before the altar, bowing low for a long while as she muttered prayers under her breath. After worshiping in the main hall, she went to the side hall, and when that was done, she wanted to find a master to cast a divination.

Song Fu stood by the doorway, yawning in boredom. Leaning against the doorframe, he stared blankly at the snow in the sky. Only after a long while did he glance back into the room-and at once, he froze and said,

“Huh? Where did the First Young Master go…?”

Sheng Zhaoning truly did not have the patience to kneel here and pray to gods or Buddhas.

After the fortune sticks were shaken, Old Madam Sheng devoted all her attention to listening to that so-called master interpret the lot.

The more Sheng Zhaoning listened, the deeper her brows furrowed. Seizing an opening, she slipped out.

The Confucian Temple was built halfway up the mountain.

Holding an umbrella, she walked to a secluded corner of the mountain. Away from the temple’s stifling incense, the faintly sweet chill carried through the snow brushed her face, scattering the restlessness that had lingered in her chest for far too long.

Below the white stone railing, the grass and trees grew sparse.

Sheng Zhaoning leaned against the railing and gazed into the distance, her mood gradually settling.

She had never believed in ghosts or gods.

If gods existed, then why would someone as heinously sinful as her still be living safe and sound in this world?

If vengeful ghosts existed, then with all the wronged souls on her hands, why had none ever come to seek revenge?

So Sheng Zhaoning had never believed in predetermined fate, divine blessings, or heavenly calamities.

For the things she wanted, she never begged anyone.

What could be obtained, she fought for. What could not be obtained, she let go.

Better that than spending a lifetime entangled without end.

…

At some point, the snow began to lighten.

Sheng Zhaoning estimated that Old Madam Sheng should be about done speaking with that “master,” so she turned back.

Halfway there, an extremely faint scent of blood drifted to her nose.

Her steps stopped amid a stand of pines and undergrowth.

Sheng Zhaoning lifted her eyes, her gaze fixing on the slope behind a thick pine tree.

After only a moment, a figure slowly edged out from behind the tree.

Her brows paused slightly. How interesting.

It was actually someone she knew.

“It’s you?” Zhou Wei said weakly.

Sheng Zhaoning met his pale face, then swept her gaze downward. His shoulder, abdomen, and waist were all marked with wounds of varying lengths and sizes. Some had stopped bleeding, while others had not yet closed and were still steadily seeping blood.

Who knew how long he had been fleeing? He had dragged a body covered in wounds, both large and small, into the Confucian Temple to hide. Soaked from head to toe, he looked like a big dog abandoned outside the courtyard, pitifully raising its head in the rain.

For reasons even Sheng Zhaoning could not explain, she-someone who had never liked meddling in other people’s business-actually turned her steps and walked toward the man behind the pine tree.

Zhou Wei’s gaze sharpened. He pressed his lips together and watched her approach, a hint of wariness in his eyes.

“Who are you?” he asked, looking up.

Sheng Zhaoning glanced at the bloodstains on him. Instead of answering, she asked in return, “Hiding outside in this weather-aren’t you afraid you’ll freeze to death?”

The corner of Zhou Wei’s mouth twitched. He gave a cold snort and turned his head away, clearly unwilling to bother with her.

Sheng Zhaoning arched a brow. Quite the temper.

Blood had already mixed with melted snow at his feet and flowed onto the ground, staining a small patch of mud red. The faint smell of blood in the air was also drifting farther as the blood spread.

If this went on, he would be discovered sooner or later.

Sheng Zhaoning bent down to look at him. “It’s been seven or eight days since Xie Qiu was killed, hasn’t it? You mean to tell me you still haven’t even escaped Xuzhou?”

There was no mockery in her words.

She was genuinely somewhat puzzled.

It was true that after Xie Qiu was killed, Xuzhou was immediately placed under martial lockdown. The city gates were sealed, and no one was allowed in or out.

But Baoyue Tower was only a little over ten li from the city gates. After killing Xie Qiu, as long as he had not delayed and had run straight out of the city, there would still have been time.

If it had been her, the moment she killed Xie Qiu, she would have slipped out of Xuzhou at once.

Even if the gates were locked, she would never have been trapped here.

And what she found even more incomprehensible was that someone who could not even escape the city gates after killing a man had somehow managed to stay on the run until now, despite layers of lockdown and defense, and soldiers searching the streets day and night.

She truly did not know whether to call him agile or simply too lucky.

Zhou Wei: “…”