Chapter Eighteen: Truth and Falsehood

At that moment, the Embroidered Uniform Guard came to report that no trace of anyone was found in the mansion. Tu Ji’an calmed himself and informed Lu Chenzhou that Wei Shiqi had died an hour earlier, and the murderer was Shen Hua from the Ghost Market.

“How is that possible?”

Lu Chenzhou’s face was full of shock, his gaze awkwardly sweeping toward the place where Shen Hua was hiding before quickly withdrawing. Shen Hua overheard their conversation clearly but was just as baffled, unaware of who had actually attacked Wei Shiqi.

Tu Ji’an’s complexion turned ashen.

“How can it be impossible? It was she who poisoned Wei Baihu at the imperial prison today. The Embroidered Uniform Guards present can all testify. So, if Lord Lu knows where she is, you must not shield her just because she once helped you.”

Lu Chenzhou replied coldly, “Naturally not.”

“In that case, I will take my leave. Lord Lu, there is a long road ahead.”

Xiao Yan watched as the guards withdrew completely and ordered Zhou Zheng’s body to be sent back to the Ministry of Justice for further investigation. As Lu Chenzhou left, he cast a meaningful glance at Shen Hua. Perhaps due to their recent interactions, Shen Hua immediately understood his implication.

Shen Hua knew that to clear her name, she had to uncover the true cause of Wei Shiqi’s death. The poison she administered was not fatal; her earlier threats during the day were meant to intimidate Wei Shiqi and his men. Although it caused him to cough up blood, the pill she gave him would neutralize the poison, allowing him to recover within an hour.

But now he had suddenly died. What had truly happened behind the scenes? Who killed Wei Shiqi and framed her? What was their purpose? If she did not find the murderer, she might no longer be able to stay in Nanjing. This ruled out her master’s involvement.

When Shen Hua returned to the Ghost Market, she initially thought the Embroidered Uniform Guards would be around the clinic, but after checking the surroundings, she found no one watching. She was perplexed; given their usual strictness, they would have either sealed the clinic or made a big fuss.

Lying on the bed, Shen Hua reflected on everything that had happened that day. She was so exhausted her eyes nearly crossed and faintly caught a familiar scent before unintentionally closing her eyes.

“Sang’er, Sang’er.”

The name echoed persistently in her ears. This time, she clearly saw a middle-aged man wearing a red court robe, looking at her with deep affection.

“Sang’er, your father cannot watch you grow up. If you survive, you must never seek revenge, never seek revenge…”

Then a knife plunged into the man’s body, and blood splattered onto Shen Hua’s face. Startled awake, her heart leapt to her throat, her eyes filled with terror and helplessness.

Since that disaster when her master saved her, Shen Hua’s memories of over a decade ago had been blurry. Only her father’s face and voice were clear. No matter how hard she tried, she could not recall her mother’s appearance—only that her name was Yang Zhitong. In her memories, her mother often brought wooden joinery toys for her and made her read strange books.

Checking the time, Shen Hua saw she had slept three hours. Dawn had broken outside. She got up and retrieved a pale purple dress from the bottom of the wardrobe. After freshening up, she took out a wooden box hidden beneath the bed and sat at the dressing table to open it. Inside were several pieces of human skin and makeup tools—disguise was part of the training in the Netherworld Pavilion’s “Phantom Wind” course.

Yesterday at the imperial prison, following her master’s instructions, Shen Hua warned Wei Shiqi to beware of someone trying to escape. Indeed, he left in a hurry, confirming that a highly significant prisoner was detained there, whose identity her master likely knew.

Shen Hua had spent over a decade in the Netherworld Pavilion without ever meeting its leader. All affairs were handled by her master and three deputy leaders, each overseeing a tier of assassins responsible for their training and missions.

“So truly a top assassin of the Netherworld Pavilion. You’d never guess it was a disguise.”

Shen Hua continued drawing her eyebrows and glanced sideways in the mirror at the newcomer.

“According to pavilion rules, shouldn’t I bow and greet Doctor Shen?”

The newcomer removed a fan blocking the view and quietly watched Shen Hua in the mirror.

“If you wish, I can bear it.”

Shen Hua removed the hairpin from her head and replaced it with a sharp silver one.

“Yasan greets Miss Shen.”

The newcomer bowed deeply, left hand resting over the right, performing the Netherworld Pavilion’s greeting.

Shen Hua put down her comb and asked coolly, “Shadow, what did you just call me?”

By pavilion rules, one must not address each other by name during missions, only by rank. Shen Hua was subtly rebuking Yasan and reminding her to observe the rules. Otherwise, she could give her a lesson on behalf of the pavilion leader.

Though reluctant, Yasan smiled and bowed in apology.

“Please don’t blame me. I’m used to working outside and forgot this isn’t a tavern.”

“Does Shi Yin know you came to find me?”

Yasan’s face turned awkward.

“No, I came on my own.”

“For what reason?”

“Before that, I want to know—how did you discover my identity?”

Shen Hua teased, “That’s the distance between Phantom Wind and Shadow.”

Yet Yasan remained smiling, unoffended.

“By the way, you might have some trouble soon. Both the Embroidered Uniform Guard and the Ministry of Justice have their eyes on Piaomiao Tower... and you.”

Shen Hua crossed her arms and calmly replied, “The Ministry’s attention on you is because of my warning.”

Yasan frowned, surprised by Shen Hua’s words.

“If you report back to her someday, tell her this: I will definitely return that package.”

Shen Hua’s cold gaze was like a sharp blade aimed at Yasan.

“Understood.”

Yasan replied lightly before saying, “I came today to ask you about someone.”

“Who?”

“Zhou Zheng.”

Shen Hua noticed a subtle change in Yasan’s expression when she mentioned Zhou Zheng.

“What’s your relationship?”

Yasan was momentarily stunned by the question.

“He was an old... acquaintance.”

“He’s dead.”

Shen Hua recounted what happened yesterday.

Yasan stood silently for a long time, her eyes distant, fists clenched tightly. The light in her eyes told Shen Hua their connection ran deep.

“When I stopped his bleeding yesterday, the ‘Hunter’ character on his shoulder exposed his identity. I thought he was just an ordinary pawn but never expected he was one of us.”

Yasan wrinkled her nose and asked, “So he was silenced?”

“I didn’t kill him. But I think we both know who did. After all, he was no longer useful. What he said to that Ministry official is unknown, but it was enough for the pavilion leader to condemn him.”

Though Shen Hua sometimes felt compassionate, she never showed mercy to those within the Netherworld Pavilion. After more than ten years there, any hint of kindness would have cost her life. Especially becoming a ‘Phantom Wind,’ a top-tier assassin. She had her own plans, instilled by her master from childhood to become a top assassin, as they handled missions involving officials ranked at least fifth grade, which would aid her schemes.

From the pavilion’s perspective, Zhou Zheng was useless and a potential liability—an unpredictable time bomb. Still, she hadn’t expected the other party to act so quickly.

Yasan stared into space, lost in thought.

Shen Hua stood and placed a hand on Yasan’s shoulder, then slipped a key into her palm, whispering, “He wanted me to give this to you. He said you’d understand once you saw it.”

Yasan looked at the key and gripped it tightly.

“I’m heading out on a mission. If you want to stay here, remember to clear any tails outside before you leave.”

With that, Shen Hua headed for the back door.

Yasan suddenly called after her, “Thank you. I won’t forget what happened today. If you ever need me, just say the word.”

Shen Hua paused, her eyes dark and cold as she sneered, “Don’t forget the pavilion’s rules.”

Yasan softly acknowledged.

Shen Hua stepped out and wandered leisurely through the city, unlike her usual self. Street vendors shouted vigorously to attract customers. Suddenly her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten a grain since yesterday. Her gaze settled on a noodle shop about a dozen steps away.

Just as she was about to walk toward it, an arm blocked her path. Looking up, she saw a sharp-featured, handsome man, dressed in flowing sleeves with the wind, holding a fan, a slight curl at his lips.

“Miss, your attire is truly beautiful.”

Shen Hua was instantly repulsed, thinking such a shallow pick-up line wasted his good looks. She said nothing, only giving a few simple hand signs.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you... can’t speak.”

The man looked embarrassed and quickly apologized.

Shen Hua simply didn’t want to talk to strangers, fearing unnecessary trouble. She used a few hand signs she had learned from the scholar before, which surprisingly fooled the man. She gave him an unfriendly glare as she passed, warning him not to follow.

Unexpectedly, the man entered the noodle shop and sat at the table next to hers.

“Waiter, one bowl of vegetable and shredded pork noodles with an egg, and a basket of meat buns.”

Shen Hua spoke.

The man opposite looked puzzled as she spoke to the waiter.

Shen Hua paid no attention to him and quickly ate as the food arrived. The man watched intently, not with displeasure but with a hint of surprise in his eyes.

After paying and preparing to leave, the man blocked her way again.

“Miss, perhaps there was a misunderstanding. I’m no scoundrel. I just think your clothes are beautiful and want to buy one for my sister. May I ask which tailor made it?”

Shen Hua was embarrassed but unsure how to explain. The clothes were all made by the Netherworld Pavilion’s tailor.

“These clothes weren’t made in Nanjing,” she replied lightly and stepped out.

Yet the man followed like a shadow, trailing her for two streets. Shen Hua was eager to meet Lu Chenzhou but had stumbled upon an irrelevant, stubborn follower. Had this not been a busy market, the man might have been dealt with more harshly.

“Sir, you’ve followed me for two streets. What exactly do you want?”

Shen Hua stopped and turned to the man.

He cupped his hands, “I’m Jin Nanzhou. I mean no harm, only to observe your clothing style closely to describe it to my tailor.”

Shen Hua didn’t know how to respond and reluctantly nodded. Forcing a smile, she said, “If you want a good look, give me your address. I’ll send someone to show you the style.”

Jin Nanzhou waved his hands nervously, “No, no, it’s better I visit your residence.”

Shen Hua, losing patience with this irrelevant chatter, waved her arm once in front of Jin Nanzhou, who immediately collapsed.

“Ginger Huaiyu’s sleeping draught is indeed faster-acting than others.”

Before leaving, Shen Hua didn’t forget to take Jin Nanzhou’s money pouch. If she didn’t, beggars would soon empty his pockets. She might as well play the petty thief—this skin would never be seen again.

“Young master! Young master!”

Two men helped Jin Nanzhou up from the ground. He clearly remembered talking to a woman moments ago but suddenly falling asleep.

“Where’s your money pouch, young master?”

Jin Nanzhou felt his waist, sighed, and murmured, “She doesn’t seem like a thief in those clothes.”

The attendant grew anxious, “What did the thief look like? I’ll report to the Five Cities Military Command. Stealing from the Minister of War’s family!”

“Don’t trouble Uncle Xiao at every turn. I just tripped accidentally. Someone probably picked up the pouch.”

Xiang Nanzhou brushed dust off his clothes, smiling.

“You still laugh? That pouch was made by your lady mother.”

“Why worry? Mother’s not here. If she asks, I’ll say I lost it. As long as you keep quiet, no one will know.”

Jin Nanzhou had just returned to Nanjing yesterday after staying in BJ. Though the son of the Minister of War, he was uninterested in court affairs. His father often scolded him for failing the imperial exams at twenty and compared him unfavorably to the eldest son of the Wen family guarding the border. But Jin Nanzhou was never fond of martial pursuits; his dream was to be a physician.

Actually, following Shen Hua wasn’t just because of her clothes but the scent she carried—an herbal fragrance of rare medicine. Unlike other women he had met, she wasn’t talkative or frivolous but genuine. It was something he had never encountered before.