Chapter 16: Could It Be Him? No, That's Impossible.
The sunlight dimmed bit by bit. Yellow leaves fluttered in the autumn wind, performing a mournful dance. The cries of migrating geese echoed across the sky, disrupting Lian Heng's deep contemplation.
"Miss, your winter clothes are ready. Would you like to try them on?"
As Lian Heng walked back to the main hall, Yu Zhong hurried over, her voice brimming with enthusiasm.
This maid had been unusually well-behaved lately, spending most of her time in the sewing room and rarely showing herself.
"Just send them to my room later," Lian Heng replied, her tone indifferent.
She felt an inexplicable aversion toward Yu Zhong's exaggerated deference. At times, the maid acted utterly humble, yet at others, she overstepped boundaries without a second thought—like splashing water on her mother one morning, arguing with Second Madam over an altered dress, or secretly reporting Third Madam's supposed rendezvous with a lover. What schemes might be brewing behind those constantly darting eyes?
Sensing her mistress's displeasure, Yu Zhong quickly withdrew.
Watching her snake-like figure retreat, Lian Heng wondered just how likely it was that Yu Zhong had been the one to push her off the bridge.
Yu Zhong claimed she had been shoved aside by the crowd at the time. But who could verify that?
When it happened, her family's focus was entirely on her safety and on suspecting Third Madam, who, being pregnant, seemed to have the strongest motive. Nobody had spared a thought for a seemingly insignificant maid.
Maybe Yu Zhong had acted on a sudden impulse to frame the favored Third Madam, dreaming of taking her place. Or perhaps she was even a spy, planted to infiltrate the Lian family and bring about its downfall.
The thought made Lian Heng chuckle aloud. Surely, she was overthinking it.
Still, it might be worth looking into Yu Zhong's background.
Her musings were interrupted when Yu Zhong rushed back in.
"Miss, that constable Di has returned!"
Lian Heng blinked, startled. He must have found something.
"Then invite him in," she said.
"He asked that you meet him at the gate. He said he only needs a moment."
At the gate, Di Yun stood, his brows furrowed in deep thought. Upon seeing her, he wasted no time.
"Lian Heng, the incense in the silver censer contained a hallucinogenic substance similar to bi'an manluo," he said urgently.
"So Third Madam was drugged and wandered into my mother's room in a daze?" Lian Heng gasped softly.
Di Yun nodded gravely.
"Who did it?"
Instead of answering, Di Yun frowned deeply and asked, "The maid who delivered the message just now—she doesn't seem like an ordinary servant. Which household does she serve? How long has she been here? What's her background?"
"She's Yu Zhong, in charge of sewing and mending. She also assists my father in the study when he's home. She's only been here a little over a month, sent by one of my father's business associates," Lian Heng explained.
Di Yun nodded. "I'll look into it," he said before taking his leave.
Watching him stride away, Lian Heng leaned against the doorframe, lost in thought. Could it be that he, like her, also suspected Yu Zhong?
Her attention was suddenly caught by a strange scene across the street—
A dozen figures dressed in identical white robes had appeared, surrounding Di Yun.
Among them, a plump, round-faced girl of about seventeen or eighteen bounded toward him excitedly, grabbing his sleeve and shaking it vigorously, as if reuniting with a long-lost lover.
Di Yun's face turned beet red. He muttered something to them, his eyes flicking briefly toward the Lian residence, before breaking free and bolting away. The white-robed group exchanged bewildered glances before dispersing in visible disappointment.
What… just happened?
For the first time, Lian Heng found herself curious about Di Yun's personal life.
Two days had passed since Lu Qiaoqiao left, and there was still no news of her.
Where could a lone, frail woman go? Yesterday, before Lian Heng could even suggest it, Di Yun had already sent people to search for her. Yet two days later, there were still no leads.
That quiet night, Lian Zheng sat alone, drinking away his guilt.
"I'd rather be autumn grass, sharing the same root until death, than a falling flower drifting aimlessly in the wind..."
"Qiaoqiao, I'm no different from those other ordinary men," he murmured bitterly. "All those grand vows and promises—I said them casually, and yet you believed... I've never thought of myself as truly loving you, never...
"But why, then, does my heart ache so much these days?
"I don't believe you're a wicked woman, but I still hurt you…"
Tears slid down his face, slow and silent.
How many years had it been since he last cried?
Grabbing the wine jar, he took a long, fierce drink.
"Which is greater, the sea or my regret?
Tides are faithful, yet our love falters.
The sea's depth pales against longing's weight."
"Qiaoqiao, Qiaoqiao, where on earth have you gone?"
Suddenly, in his drunken haze, he saw a woman step gracefully into the room, dressed in resplendent finery.
Her hair coiled into a wind-like chignon, her brows delicately painted, and her skin luminous with a rosy glow. She wore a crimson silk gown with a low neckline that revealed her ample bosom, and a sheer white scarf danced like a serpent in her hands as she moved.
Her voice was enchanting, her movements mesmerizing, her skirt swirling with endless allure.
"Qiaoqiao... You're back..."