“Guard Han?!”
Yan Yihuan’s shoulders jerked violently. He looked at Ling Chen in disbelief. His heart had already reached an answer, but he still clutched Ling Chen’s arm tightly. His bloodshot eyes ached with pain, and tears now flowed uncontrollably.
“Tell me, which Guard Han!”
“It’s…” Ling Chen finally shook his head. “This matter has nothing to do with Grand Historian Yan. Let me escort you back to the palace.”
“Nothing to do with me?!” Yan Yihuan could no longer suppress the fear and resentment in his heart. He shoved Ling Chen away and staggered toward the corpse. “I’ve known him for ten years and treated him like my own brother. Now he has died a wrongful death at my own doorstep because of me, and you say it has nothing to do with me?!”
Yan Yihuan panted heavily. But even with such effort, he still felt dizzy, and his chest felt suffocatingly tight. He raised his arm and wiped away his tears harshly to clear his vision, allowing him to see everything clearly.
The bloodstains on the fatal wound on Xu Xinyao’s neck had been wiped clean. Around a single puncture hole, six torn wounds extended outward neatly, forming a strange hexagonal pattern.
The violent beating of his heart echoed in his ears. Yan Yihuan seemed unable to hear any external sounds. He knew this unusual wound was made by a rare six-pointed dagger. It was an exquisite dagger that served as both a weapon and an ornament.
Yan Yihuan had even once played with it out of curiosity. The size of this wound was identical to the one he had seen. There was no need for Ling Chen to explain further. He knew clearly that the owner of this weapon was Han Zhen.
Han Zhen would not have killed Xu Xinyao for no reason. Yan Yihuan knew there was only one person in this world capable of commanding him.
Ming Zhang’s vague hints, the Youluo Jian’s suspicions, and the wound he had seen with his own eyes all pointed to the same person, the one person his heart was most unwilling to acknowledge.
“Grand Historian Yan!” Ling Chen darted forward and caught Yan Yihuan as he collapsed. “If you do not wish to leave, I’ll support you somewhere farther away.”
Yan Yihuan no longer had the strength to struggle. He allowed Ling Chen to lead him away, but after only ten paces, Ling Chen suddenly stopped, “Lord Ming.”
As if suddenly granted a pillar of support, Yan Yihuan’s eyes instantly regained their focus. He hurriedly looked ahead and indeed saw Ming Zhang walking slowly toward them.
“What happened? Why was a signal sent?” Ming Zhang asked.
Ling Chen briefly reported everything that had occurred. Ming Zhang’s brows furrowed deeply as he asked in a heavy voice, “Has the Court of Judicial Review been notified?”
“Ah? Not yet.” Ling Chen was clearly surprised and hesitated for a moment before asking, “It might have been Guard Han. Should we still report it to the Court of Judicial Review?”
If it really had been done by the Emperor’s personal guard, then it was obvious who had given the order.
“Someone has died on the streets of the capital, so of course it must be reported to the Court of Judicial Review for investigation and adjudication.” Seeing Yan Yihuan’s pale face, Ming Zhang’s stern expression softened into a comforting one, “Leave Grand Historian Yan to me. You guys go attend to your duties.”
As he spoke, Ming Zhang reached out to support Yan Yihuan. Having finally met someone familiar, Yan Yihuan seemed to have grasped a lifeline. He threw himself into Ming Zhang’s embrace and held him tightly but did not say a word.
Ming Zhang patted Yan Yihuan’s back and comforted him softly, “Staying here is pointless. Shouldn’t you feel relieved about entrusting this matter to the Youluo Jian and the Court of Judicial Review?”
Yan Yihuan shook his head and said dully, “If it really was Han Zhen, what use is entrusting it to the Court of Judicial Review?”
“Alright, don’t think too much. What if he was framed?” Ming Zhang cupped Yan Yihuan’s face and took out a soft cloth to wipe away his tears, “It’s already late. Come stay at my place tonight. I’ll accompany you.”
“Okay.” Yan Yihuan nodded quickly. He desperately needed someone he could trust by his side. The person he had originally relied on was now the source of his terror, leaving only Ming Zhang to depend on.
“Ming Zhang ge, I’m so scared,” Yan Yihuan whispered, “Every time I close my eyes, I see Big Brother Xu’s face. Can you accompany me to sleep?”
Ming Zhang, who was leaning over to tuck in the corners of Yan Yihuan’s quilt, paused at those words. He sat down on the floor by the bedside and grasped the pale hand reaching out from under the covers.
“Hiss,” Ming Zhang couldn’t help but gasp, “How is it so cold?”
“I don’t know…” Yan Yihuan shook his head weakly, his jaw trembling, “Ming Zhang ge, I feel a bit cold. Can you cover me with another blanket?”
“You’re sick. Your forehead is burning hot.” Ming Zhang withdrew his hand from Yan Yihuan’s forehead, “I’ll go get you a doctor.”
“Ming Zhang ge…”
The warmth enveloping his hand suddenly vanished, leaving Yan Yihuan feeling as helpless as if he had stepped into thin air. Lying on the bed, it was as though all his strength had been spent on shivering. Waves of cold washed over him one after another, and even the warmest quilt could not bring him a trace of warmth.
Watching Yan Yihuan mutter incoherently with his eyes closed, repeatedly calling his(MZ) name, Ming Zhang tucked his(YYH) hand back under the quilt and smoothed it down, then stood and looked at him.
“Why?” After a long while, Ming Zhang’s murmured words broke the stillness of the room. “What secret do you carry that would make Li Xuanjing so determined to have you, even to the point of unhesitatingly killing Xu Xinyao, who posed almost no threat at all?”
Because of love?
There was some, but not entirely.
If he truly loved him, Li Xuanjing would never have agreed to his plan to lure Yan Yihuan into seeing Xu Xinyao’s corpse with his own eyes. There had to be another reason.
“Ling Chen.”
“This subordinate is here.”
“Have you found anything from investigating Yan Yihuan?”
“We’ve only found some vague clues,” Ling Chen lowered his head, “We are still digging deeper, but the people of the Residence of King Yan are very tight-lipped.”
“Say what you know.” Ming Zhang closed the door and stepped a little farther outside.
“Third Young Master Yan’s illness was cured by a Daoist.”
“Other than that?”
“That Daoist neither performed any rituals nor used any medicine. It seems he only gave Third Young Master an object to wear. Since then, he has been fine.”
“An object?”
All of Linjing knew that a mysterious Daoist had cured the Third Young Master, so that was no secret, but this object was something Ming Zhang was hearing for the first time.
“This subordinate is incompetent. I truly could not find out what it was, but it seems everything is connected to the Third Young Master’s fate.”
“Fate…” Ming Zhang was somewhat surprised. He glanced back at the tightly closed door and pondered for a moment, “Continue investigating. Also, go and invite Physician Sun.”
“Yes.” Ling Chen took his leave. Ming Zhang turned back into the room, took up the candle stand, and lit all the remaining candles inside.
As for a worn object, the first thing Ming Zhang thought of was the jade pendant carved with the character “Yan” that Yan Yihuan had lost when he was abducted. But Yan Yihuan didn’t seem to care, so it appeared to be just an ordinary item.
As Ming Zhang pondered this, his gaze fell on the clothes rack. It held the garments Yan Yihuan had just taken off. From a belt inlaid with white jade hung a jade pendant along with several brocade pouches of varying sizes.
At present, whether of high status or merely a scholar who fancied elegance, it was fashionable to wear multiple brocade pouches at the waist. Compared to the several new and shiny ones, one was particularly plain and worn, appearing somewhat out of place.
His long fingers kneaded the brocade pouch in his palm, then loosened the drawstring. A small, unremarkable stone fell into his hand.
Some of the pouches held incense, while some contained grains symbolizing a life of abundance. For young nobles like him, some pouches even contained gemstones or gold beads.
This stone had been polished into the shape of a teardrop, yet it was dull and without luster, far too ordinary, no different from those found by the roadside. So why would it be kept so carefully and worn on Third Young Master Yan’s person?
Ming Zhang put the stone back and raised his hand to remove the pouch from the belt, then hid it away in a nearby cabinet.
“Water…”
A hoarse murmur came from the bed. Ming Zhang set the belt back in place, then poured a cup of warm water and walked toward the bed.
