Chapter 2: A Night Visit

A Feng slowly revealed himself from behind the artificial rockery, gazing at the two retreating figures in the distance with a slight frown. "Martial law?" he murmured.

Unable to make sense of it, A Feng decided to stop pondering. Taking a deep breath, he moved with swift, silent steps, following the two men through the shadows.

The two, still shaken, hurried away. Before long, they parted ways; the man wandered for a bit, then headed straight for the mourning hall, unaware he was being tailed.

Guarding outside was Zhang Hu, a house guard, who stepped forward and whispered, "Young Steward Ouyang, what brings you here?"

"I've come to see what my father has arranged," replied the man, addressed as Young Steward Ouyang.

"Then let me congratulate you in advance. With the old master gone and the new master soon to take his place, your father will surely step down, and you, Young Steward, will be in charge, won't you?"

"Don't say such things. But if that day ever comes, you and I will share in the fortune. My word is my bond," Ouyang Ping said, unable to hide his pride.

Zhang Hu flattered him further—they were drinking companions, after all, and spoke freely.

After a few words, Ouyang Ping entered the mourning hall.

Inside stood a coffin of golden-threaded nanmu, still uncovered, wrapped in white silk, with a bold “Condolence” character hanging prominently. Offerings filled the table, and three incense sticks sent up curling blue smoke that lingered in the air.

Three people were kneeling: two men and a woman, while an elder stood nearby.

Upon seeing Ouyang Ping, the old man asked, "Has the matter Madam instructed been handled?"

Ouyang Ping replied, "The front, main, and rear courtyards have all been notified. The household is under martial law, and patrols have been assigned. No one is allowed to leave without permission."

"Good. Wait here then," the elder said, turning to the kneeling trio. "Young Master Feng, Young Master Yun, Miss Yu, you have been kneeling all day. Why not rest awhile? Let this old servant keep vigil."

Ouyang Feng looked up at him. "Uncle Fu, take my younger brother and sister to rest. They haven’t eaten today and must be hungry."

Ouyang Fu glanced at Yun and Yu. Their young faces were clouded with grief, their tears long since dried; too tired even to cry, they numbly burned paper offerings.

Turning to Ouyang Ping, he said, "Ping, fetch Miss Yu’s maid and help Young Master Yun to rest as well."

"Yes, Father," Ouyang Ping replied before leaving.

Soon, he returned with two maids. Ouyang Fu looked up and told them, "Take Miss Yu back to rest."

The maids obeyed, helping Yu to her feet. She struggled briefly, her face blank, but tears welled up again.

Ouyang Fu sighed. "Miss Yu, please restrain your grief. The dead cannot return. The household still needs you and the young master to handle affairs—don’t make yourself ill. The old master would not wish it."

Hearing this, Yu did not resist further. The 'master' in question was her own father, now lost forever.

The maids supported Yu as they left, while Ouyang Ping led a servant to help Young Master Yun.

Now only Ouyang Feng and Ouyang Fu remained, with the embers from burning paper money still issuing smoke.

Ouyang Feng said softly, "Uncle Fu, our Ouyang family is one of the leading households in Qingyang. Yet my father was murdered in his prime—what are we to do now?"

Ouyang Fu was silent for a moment before answering, "Young Master, do not worry. The first priority is to find the murderer and bring him to justice. As the legitimate son, it is only right that you inherit the family headship."

Ouyang Feng replied, "Uncle Fu, you know my story. My mother was a maid, fortunate enough to be taken in by my father, but she died from exhaustion after giving birth to me. The first wife had no children, so my father entrusted me to her care, only for her to die when I was four. Now my father is gone too. People say I am cursed."

"Do not listen to such rumors, Young Master. The old madam still supports you," Ouyang Fu said kindly.

Ouyang Feng sighed, his gaze lingering on the large "Condolence" character and the golden-threaded nanmu coffin, his heart heavy with sorrow.

It was the old madam who decided to arrange a second marriage for his father. The second wife bore him Ouyang Yun and Ouyang Yu, twins, immediately becoming the second most important woman in the household.

After a while, Ouyang Feng said, "Uncle Fu, go rest now. Tonight, let me keep vigil for my father alone."

Ouyang Fu hesitated, opened his mouth to speak, but finally only said, "Very well, Young Master. Take care not to catch cold."

As he left, he found Zhang Hu and several guards on duty. "Zhang Hu, you'll need to work harder these days. Young Master Feng is keeping vigil tonight—watch over him carefully."

"Of course, Steward. We’ll be vigilant," Zhang Hu promised.

"Good. Do your job well, and in a few days collect an extra month’s pay from the accounts office as a reward," Ouyang Fu said.

"Thank you, Steward!" Zhang Hu beamed.

After he left, Zhang Hu relayed the good news, and his men could hardly contain their excitement. Working at the Ouyang estate paid better than elsewhere; the family had its own sources of wealth and was generous to its servants. Zhang Hu, as a guard instructor, earned thirty taels a month—far more than most.

With the promise of extra pay, everyone was especially alert.

Meanwhile, A Feng, having followed Ouyang Ping, slipped into the mourning hall through a side window and concealed himself in the rafters.

He overheard everything, from Ouyang Ping’s arrival to Ouyang Feng being left alone.

The family’s relationships seemed complicated, he thought. His mission was to assassinate the head of the Ouyang family, yet someone else had struck first. Was this not a single assignment after all, but one given to several people?

A Feng’s eyes narrowed. "Looks like I’ve been duped."

If many had taken the job, only one could succeed—the rest would be scapegoats. Now, he too was among them.

He recalled the assignment’s wording: "Ouyang Xun, head of the Ouyang family in Qingyang. Kill him single-handedly and bring his white jade thumb ring as proof. Reward: three thousand taels."

He had taken the job from the Assassins’ Hall, spending a month sneaking into the city. Could it have been posted elsewhere too?

But that didn’t fit the Assassins’ Hall’s rules. Public bounties were carefully reviewed—if the Hall discovered any deception, the deceiver would be hunted down.

Suddenly, movement below interrupted his thoughts.

Ouyang Feng rose, lit three sticks of incense, bowed thrice, and placed them in the burner; the old incense was nearly spent.

Then, as if recalling something, he left the hall to speak to someone outside.

A Feng seized the moment, dropping soundlessly from the rafters, landing with barely a whisper.

He tiptoed to the coffin and peered inside. The corpse was pale, with a beard, dressed in fine silk; both hands were folded across the chest. On the left thumb was a jade thumb ring.

Suppressing his astonishment, A Feng leaned closer and turned the ring. By the candlelight, he felt the engraved character: "Xun."

No wonder the ring was required as proof—it bore a secret mark.

But then, who but a close family member would know such a detail?

Footsteps sounded outside. A Feng sprang to the pillar, leapt like an ape, and vanished into the rafters.

Ouyang Feng returned, carrying more paper money. He knelt alone, continuing to burn offerings.

A Feng, seeing nothing more would happen that night, slipped away as quietly as a black cat.

He made his way to the front courtyard, passing several patrolling guards. Despite their presence, these night shifts were lax, and to a seasoned infiltrator like A Feng, riddled with gaps.

He glanced back once at the brightly lit Ouyang residence, then left.

Back in his small inn room, he removed his night clothes, wrapped them up, changed into his regular attire, and listened to the night watch outside. It was the third watch—he’d have to rise early to prepare food for the morning, so he lay down to rest.

Little did A Feng know that less than a quarter of an hour after he left, another shadowy figure entered the mourning hall. With a swift chop to the neck, Ouyang Feng was knocked unconscious.

The intruder approached the coffin, drew a blade, and stabbed the corpse’s chest. The knife went in and out again—no blood spurted, only dark red fluid oozed and soaked the clothes.

The figure then took the jade thumb ring from the corpse’s hand and left.

The hall’s lamps still burned, the incense smoldered, but the brazier’s fire was nearly out, leaving only glowing ashes.

...

Zhang Hu kept watch all night. At some point, Young Master Feng came out briefly, but did not leave again.

As dawn broke, Zhang Hu decided to check on him. Though Young Master Feng’s position in the household was awkward, the extra pay was motivation enough.

He excused himself and entered the mourning hall, only to find Young Master Feng collapsed on the floor, the incense and brazier long cold. Startled, Zhang Hu rushed over. "Young Master! Young Master!"

Ouyang Feng slowly regained consciousness, looking blankly at Zhang Hu. Suddenly, feeling pain in his neck, he exclaimed, "An assassin!"

"What? You were attacked?" Zhang Hu gasped.

Ignoring him, Ouyang Feng struggled to his feet and checked his father’s coffin—only to find a stab wound in the corpse’s chest, the blood already congealed.

With a cry, he fainted again.

Zhang Hu, seeing this, was terrified. Who would dare desecrate even the dead?

"Quick, fetch Steward Ouyang! Quickly!"

To be continued...