Dark clouds veiled the moon, shrouding the night in a heavy gloom.
Just a few days ago, the Zhang Family courtyard was ablaze with festive lights, but now only pale lanterns remained, swaying in the wind and casting eerie, ghostly shadows.
Two martial artists stood beneath a towering old locust tree in the corner of the courtyard wall, conversing in low voices.
The Fat Martial Artist, his Nasal Duck Voice thick with worry, said, “Tie Ge, I don’t think the Zhang Family’s great ship can stay afloat much longer. When the tree falls, the monkeys scatter—shouldn’t the two of us start planning our own escape?”
Tie Ge, a lean and sharp-eyed man, immediately looked up warily at those words, glancing all around. A gust of wind rustled the old locust’s leaves, but after a quick scan he withdrew his gaze and hissed in a low voice, “Quiet! Walls have ears—don’t talk nonsense!”
The Fat Martial Artist curled his lip, unconvinced. “How’s that nonsense? Zhang Laoye died a violent death, and there’s not even a single trueborn child to smash the basin or beat the banners. Who knows if that lump in the New Madam’s belly is a boy or girl, or if she’ll even give birth safely… This huge family fortune, heh…”
Tie Ge’s face darkened, his tone stern. “Enough! Is this the kind of thing you and I should be discussing? Disaster comes from the mouth! Go on, finish your night patrol—the east wing is due for a shift change.”
He gave the Fat Martial Artist a shove, urging him away.
The Fat Martial Artist staggered from the push, grumbling in dissatisfaction, “You’re so diligent! Since Zhang Laoye passed, the Old Madam hired dozens of martial artists to work in three shifts, and hundreds of strong servants guard day and night. With that kind of battle array, not even a petty thief, let alone if Lu Zhishen himself showed up, he’d have to kneel and beg for his life! Who’d have the guts to come here and die?”
“Shut up! Say one more word and I’ll slap you!” Tie Ge was clearly irritated by his loose tongue, glaring fiercely before striding off in another direction.
The Fat Martial Artist shrank his neck, still muttering soundlessly, and only then did he shuffle away slowly.
Only after their footsteps had faded completely into the distance, at the far end of the winding corridor, did the dense branches and leaves of the locust tree stir ever so slightly, as if brushed by a gentle breeze.
If anyone had looked up just then, they might have glimpsed two figures, almost blending into the night, their breathing suppressed to an inaudible hush among the swaying shadows.
“Ah-ya-ya…”
A voice, deliberately low and laced with playful laughter, brushed warm breath against Jiang Mingxi’s ear like a feather. “Look at this, copper walls and iron bastions— no bird could fly through. Second Young Master, if you want to back out and run for it, there’s still time, you know?”
Gao Mingling’s tone was full of mischief, as if he were enjoying a show that had nothing to do with him.
Jiang Mingxi didn’t even flutter an eyelash. With a blank face, she raised her hand and rubbed her ear hard with her knuckle, where his breath had tickled.
In the next instant, her body relaxed abruptly, like a mountain leopard gathering strength, and she slid silently from the branch more than a yard high.
Just as her toes were about to touch the ground, she pushed off with precision, body curling, and melted like a wraith into the shadow at the base of the wall.
A few heartbeats later, a swifter gust of wind dropped along the trunk.
Jiang Mingxi didn’t look back, but sped along the shadow at the foot of the wall for several steps, hearing no footsteps behind her.
She paused, turning her head in confusion.
Just then, the clouds parted, and cold moonlight poured down, illuminating Gao Mingling’s face in an instant.
Those eyes, already shockingly bright in the night, now brimmed with undisguised curiosity and a wild, hunting gleam.
“Follow me.” Jiang Mingxi mouthed soundlessly, her brow faintly furrowed, tinged with helplessness.
A flash of laughter appeared in Gao Mingling’s eyes. With a light tap of his toe on the bluestone, he shot past Jiang Mingxi like an arrow leaving the string.
As he brushed past her, he even tilted his head, casting a sidelong glance and curling his lips in a bold arc, silently mouthing two words: “Follow me.”
Jiang Mingxi curled her lip, too lazy to bother with this childish fool.
The two of them, like shadows gliding over the ground, darted swiftly along a meticulously calculated route, weaving between rockeries, corridors, and moon gates.
Every pause and movement was timed precisely to coincide with the blind spots in the guards’ patrols.
The tension was like an invisible spiderweb, wrapping itself around the two of them.
Just as they were about to cross a relatively open flowerbed near the west wing where the Spirit Hall was located, a sudden mishap occurred.
“Grrrrumble—”
A clear, drawn-out stomach growl, startlingly loud in the dead of night, sounded right beside Jiang Mingxi!
She whipped around, staring at Gao Mingling in disbelief.
Gao Mingling’s face turned as red as a boiled shrimp. Clutching his stomach, he whispered, embarrassed and anxious, “I didn’t eat dinner…”
Jiang Mingxi quickly clapped a hand over his mouth, but she was a step too late.
The sound had already drawn the attention of the patrolling guards.
Not far away, a patrol squad rounding the corner suddenly stopped. The sharp-eyed leader barked warily, “What was that? Who’s there?!”
Jiang Mingxi’s pupils contracted, every muscle in her body tensing, cold sweat instantly soaking her back.
“Little Li, Dazhu, go check by the Taihu Stone.”
Gao Mingling glanced apologetically at Jiang Mingxi, then a cold glint flashed in his eyes as he reached for the box gun at his waist, clearly ready to make a decision.
Now Jiang Mingxi understood how Gao Mingling had messed up in his previous life.
She quickly grabbed his arm and shook her head.
In his anxious, puzzled gaze, Jiang Mingxi drew a sharp breath, pinched her nose, and tensed the muscles of her neck and throat in a peculiar rhythm.
When she spoke again, a vivid, nasal, and hoarse Nasal Duck Voice burst forth, rapid and full of embarrassment and urgency:
“Aiyo! Tie Ge! Tie Ge, is that you? It’s me! Damn it, I ate some leftover rice cakes tonight, and my stomach… aiyo… it’s acting up! I… I messed my pants! It stinks to high heaven!”
Gao Mingling spun his head to stare at Jiang Mingxi, so hard he nearly wrenched his neck, his face filled with disbelief.
Jiang Mingxi calmly continued in the Nasal Duck Voice, “Tie Ge, good Tie Ge, help a brother out! Go to my room and get me some clean pants! They’re in the bundle by the bed! I’m begging you, Tie Ge!”
The lead guard was visibly stunned, then his face twisted in disgust. He muttered under his breath, “Useless idiot!”
Irritated, he waved to a subordinate. “You, go to his room and get him some pants! Hurry! Don’t embarrass us out here!”
With that, he seemed eager to leave, taking the rest of the men and resuming the patrol, cursing as they went.
Crisis averted!
Jiang Mingxi and Gao Mingling pressed themselves like statues against the cold shadow of the Taihu Stone beside the flowerbed, not moving until the guards’ footsteps had faded completely.
Only then did Gao Mingling let out a long, silent breath and turn to Jiang Mingxi, his gaze full of awestruck admiration. “You can do that? You sounded exactly like that fat guy’s Nasal Duck Voice! How did you do it?!”
Jiang Mingxi’s nerves relaxed a little, the cold sweat on her brow chilled by the night wind.
She wiped her forehead, her voice still low and tinged with an almost imperceptible fatigue. “Not everyone can imitate him. His voice is too distinct— Nasal Duck Voice, heavy nasal twang, like a broken gong. Once you catch the features, it’s easy. Let’s go, we don’t have much time.”
She said no more, motioning for Gao Mingling to follow, her figure melting into the darkness once more, gliding silently toward the Spirit Hall.
Gao Mingling watched Jiang Mingxi’s back, the exaggerated excitement fading from his face, replaced by a swirl of complicated emotions.
Just now, he’d been ready to draw the guards away himself, even prepared to risk his life.
Who would have thought it would be Jiang Mingxi, whom he’d only just met, who saved him this time.
For as long as he could remember, Gao Mingling had been alone in the jianghu, always the one covering for others.
This was the first time he’d experienced what it felt like to have someone cover for him.
And the one who did it was someone about his own age.
This left Gao Mingling with a sense of defeat.
Jiang Mingxi was calmer, more resourceful, skilled, and even had such uncanny mimicry.
Gao Mingling pressed his lips together, uneasy.
He was grateful to Jiang Mingxi for saving him, of course, but mixed into that gratitude was a strange, stubborn competitiveness—a tangle of emotions that left his expression awkward.
At least, he thought, it’s dark now. Jiang Mingxi probably can’t see the strangeness on his face.
……
Skirting the last heavily-guarded moon gate, the solemn, grim Spirit Hall finally came into view.
Pale lanterns hung beneath the eaves, casting the character “奠” (Offering) in a harsh, glaring light.
The air was thick with the scent of incense, candles, and burnt joss paper, mixed with a faint, underlying stench of decay.
The Spirit Hall’s main doors were ajar, candle flames flickering within, illuminating the massive black Coffin and layers upon layers of White Banners.
Jiang Mingxi and Gao Mingling, like wisps of smoke, slipped silently in through a half-open side window.
Inside, the candlelight was dim. Two thick Funeral Candles burned on the Incense Table, their flames dancing uneasily, stretching the Coffin’s shadow into a giant, twisted monster on the walls and banners.
Amidst the suffocating silence and shadows, a frail figure knelt on a prayer mat before the Coffin.
She wore rough, white mourning garb, her frame so thin she looked as if a breeze could blow her over.
Her long hair hung in disarray, covering most of her face, leaving only a pale, sharp chin exposed.
Jiang Mingxi’s expression darkened instantly.
Has the Zhang Family lost all humanity? Making a pregnant woman kneel in mourning, and in such thin clothing!
And with all those patrols outside, yet not a single servant tending the Spirit Hall!
She clenched her teeth, cursing herself for having overestimated the Zhang Family. She had thought the child in Shen Mangge’s belly would at least carry some weight.
Watching Shen Mangge’s trembling shoulders, Jiang Mingxi— usually fearless— now felt a rare pang of timidity.
She’d left Shen Mangge here alone… What if Shen Mangge resented her?
Gao Mingling shot Jiang Mingxi a puzzled look, not understanding why she’d suddenly stopped moving.
He glanced at the frail woman kneeling before the coffin, troubled.
He’d guessed the girl’s identity— surely the New Madam whom Zhang Nan had forced to marry into the family.
Miss Shen was pitiful, too, so he didn’t want to use force on her, but she was blocking the coffin…
Gao Mingling hesitated.
He considered, then fished a bottle of knockout powder from his coat, but before he could break the seal, Jiang Mingxi snatched it away and shot him a fierce glare.
Gao Mingling: ???
His eyes flicked between Jiang Mingxi and Miss Shen, then, seeing the pain on Jiang Mingxi’s face, suddenly understood.
So, Miss Shen was Jiang Mingxi’s secret lover!
Miss Shen and Jiang Mingxi were about the same age, probably childhood sweethearts, only to be torn apart by that old beast Zhang Nan.
That’s why Jiang Mingxi killed in a rage on the wedding night.
Thinking this, Gao Mingling patted Jiang Mingxi’s shoulder with deep emotion, “Young Master Jiang, I respect you as a true man.”
Jiang Mingxi: ?
Gao Mingling nudged her, “Go ahead. I’ll keep watch at the door for you two.”
With that, he left without looking back.
Jiang Mingxi: ??
Kneeling quietly on the prayer mat, Shen Mangge seemed to sense movement. She jerked her head up, gaze sharp as lightning, and locked eyes with Jiang Mingxi.
Jiang Mingxi’s breath caught.
The flickering candlelight illuminated Shen Mangge’s face, and Jiang Mingxi clearly saw the hatred there.
She… actually hated her.
Jiang Mingxi felt as if she’d been struck, the world spinning, vision blurring—she could barely stand.
She braced herself against the wall, her body feeling split in two: one part wracked with pain, the other coldly analyzing.
Of course Shen Mangge should hate her.
The grudges with Zhang Nan were from their past life.
In this life, Zhang Nan hadn’t yet shown his true colors, but Jiang Mingxi had killed him in a fit of rage, making Shen Mangge a widow and turning the wedding hall into a Spirit Hall.
She’d destroyed all of Shen Mangge’s childhood dreams of a wedding.
And now, with Zhang Nan dead, there were already rumors in town about Shen Mangge being cursed to kill her husband; the Zhang Family surely believed it even more.
Judging by Shen Mangge’s current state, she had every reason to hate her.
Jiang Mingxi took a step back, then another, until an icy hand grabbed her tightly.
“Trying to run again, are you?!”
Shen Mangge’s hoarse voice was stretched to its breaking point, shrill and almost sobbing.
Startled, Jiang Mingxi snapped back to her senses, meeting those eyes blazing with fury.
“A-Mang…”
She called out Shen Mangge’s childhood nickname, her voice timid and uncertain.
The fire in Shen Mangge’s eyes flickered, a hint of emotion passing over her face, but she still raised her hand and slapped Jiang Mingxi hard.
Jiang Mingxi’s head snapped to the side, stunned by the blow. She saw Miss Shen, like a mother cat protecting her cub, bare her fangs and roar in anger, “You idiot!”
“Why didn’t you tell me before you killed that Zhang dog? You said nothing— how was I supposed to help you clean up? Do you know how much effort it took to trick the Zhang Family into putting your Fake Portrait on the Wanted Poster?”
“And you— how could you just leave me and run?! Do you not trust me at all?”
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