Chapter 16: A Killing

Late that night, most of the lights at the Yu Estate had gone out. Chenxue crossed the corridor in a light cloak, its hood half concealing her face. She kept close to the wall on her way to the west courtyard, her heart beating faster than her steps.

She couldn’t sleep. The more she thought about Sun Da, the more suspicious he seemed. She ought to warn Yanfan to be careful. She had already found so many odd reasons to trouble him that one more—“I don’t like the look of the new laborer; stay away from him”—would hardly seem unusual.

The west courtyard lanterns were out, and the servants’ rooms were dark. Yanfan’s was the innermost room, near the rear wall and a little apart from the others. Song had arranged it that way because his wood chopping was noisy; now it made Chenxue’s secret visits easier.

She raised her hand to knock, but before her knuckles touched the old door, it opened a crack. It was unlatched. She pushed it inward. The room was unlit, its shapes barely visible in the moonlight. Bedding was folded neatly on the wooden bed; the oil lamp on the table had long gone cold.

Standing in the empty room, she felt a chill. A servant whose habits were normally as regular as a water clock was absent in the middle of the night, and he hadn’t even locked his door.

She told herself he had only gone to the privy and sat down to wait. An incense stick’s time passed, and she grew sleepy. The bed, with its two new mattresses, still couldn’t compare to her own silk bedding, but it looked much more inviting than before. She meant only to lean on its edge. The moment her head touched the pillow, she collapsed. The mattress was thick, and instead of the sweat she had expected, the pillow smelled faintly of soapberry. She rolled over, wrapped herself in the quilt, and drifted off.

Some time later, the door creaked open. Yanfan slipped inside, shut it behind him, and dropped the latch. Then he saw the person on his bed.

The young miss lay curled up, wrapped tightly in the quilt, her face buried in the pillow. Only part of her cheek and the black hair spread across the pillow were visible. She slept so soundly that the door hadn’t woken her.

Yanfan stiffened. He looked down at his hands; dark red marks remained on his knuckles, and his cuffs were dusty. Glancing at her again, he instinctively hid his hands behind his back, then crept to the bedside and crouched.

“Miss, why are you here?”

She shifted, brow creasing, eyes still closed. “Needed to see you… Where did you go?”

“The wood took a little longer.” His voice was as even as ever. He could hardly tell her he had just killed Sun Da.

Sun Da had indeed been suspicious. Under his bedding, Yanfan had found a packet of sleeping incense and a wax-sealed letter. It bore no greeting or signature, only two lines: “After it is done, three parts in ten are yours. Everyone may be killed.” He had come to scout the estate; the letter didn’t say who had hired him.

Yanfan hadn’t intended to leave him alive for questioning. He disliked loose ends. After killing him, he had tied two stones to the body and thrown it into the deepest stretch of the eastern moat.

He had killed plenty of people and knew how to dispose of a body. Before, it had been to survive. Tonight, besides silencing Sun Da, he had acted because the man’s words had made every part of him deeply uncomfortable. It was like a bad entry in a ledger that would never balance: he could only rest after tearing out the page.

Chenxue murmured something, perhaps having heard him, perhaps not. She rolled over, and the quilt slipped from her shoulder. “Next time… tell Song to give you less work…”

Yanfan’s hand paused as he tucked the quilt around her. He watched her half-sleeping face and closed lashes. Asleep, she was nothing like the young miss who stood with hands on hips, scolding him for being stingy. Curled up in his bed, she was thinking of reducing his work even in her sleep.

“It’s late, Miss. Let’s get you back to your room.”

“Mm…” She drew her hands farther beneath the quilt and burrowed toward the wall, with no intention of getting up.

After waiting a moment, he gathered the quilt around her and lifted her, bedding and all. The movement woke her enough that she blinked at being carried and instinctively hooked her arms around his neck.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking you back.”

“…Oh.”

She leaned against his chest and yawned. “That new man, Sun Da. I don’t like the look of him.”

Yanfan’s step faltered, though his voice didn’t change. “Why not?”

“He just… doesn’t look like a good person. Don’t get too close to him.”

“All right.” He opened the door and carried her through the dark corridor, his steps steady and light. “He won’t be at the estate anymore.”

Already drowsy again, she didn’t consider what he meant. She murmured agreement and buried her face in his neck. His skin was warmer and his heartbeat quicker than usual, but she was too sleepy to notice.

Qiutang was still awake when they reached her courtyard, sitting under a small lamp and knotting a cord on the threshold. She looked up, saw her mistress being carried home in a quilt, and dropped it.

“M—”

“Shh.” Yanfan shook his head.

With the composure of a thoroughly professional maid, Qiutang closed her mouth, rose, opened the door, and helped settle Chenxue in bed. The moment her mistress touched her own mattress, she released him, rolled over, and pulled the quilt around herself, mumbling something indistinct.

Yanfan straightened to leave. Chenxue opened one eye and looked at him. “Chen Yanfan,” she said hoarsely.

“Mm?”