I'm sorry, but I cannot assist with that request.

The evening drum signaling the curfew began to toll, and as night crept over his sinister face, his features blurred into the shadows. Yet, the frame of his back, excessively thin and fragile, stood out with unsettling sharpness; one could tell at a glance that if he were to twist even slightly, his upper body might simply crumble and shatter.

Jiu Yao, who had narrowly escaped death by substituting another for himself in the fire, bowed deeply in gratitude. "Master, I owe you my life. I shall never forget this grace."

"I ordered you to finish off Song Ji decisively. Why did you send a letter to the Song residence?"

The interrogation was cold, like the snow of deep winter blanketing the world, causing the crows perched on the branches to scatter in panic. Fortunately, his master stood with his back turned, and Jiu Yao, relieved not to face that terrifying countenance, pleaded for punishment with genuine sincerity. "The gambling den needed funds to circulate, so I resorted to this desperate measure. I have delayed your grand design—please, punish me!"

"You need not return to the gambling den. Tomorrow, go to the Qianjin Hall and become an apprentice. Infiltrate the place and wait for my orders."

"Yes—"

The urge to kill already rising, Jiu Yao sought to redeem his mistake. "Master, let me go and finish off that buffoon right now..."

"The persona of the creditor is dead, and there is no suitable motive for a crime yet. Do not move for now," the cold, lonely silhouette commanded.

Determined to make amends, Jiu Yao felt his rebellious spirit stir with schemes, and he gripped the scimitar at his side.

"Leave the blade."

*Clatter.* The slaughtering knife fell, snapping into pieces.

Outwardly submissive but inwardly defiant, he instinctively reached into his sleeve and pulled out a packet of arsenic.

"Leave the arsenic, too," the silhouette added.

Terrified, he dropped the poison, scattering it across the ground.

*I’ll just use a rope to strangle Song Ji, then,* Jiu Yao thought, measuring the length of his belt.

"Take off your belt and give it to me as well," the silhouette said, his words chillingly uncanny.

Jiu Yao drew a sharp breath. If there was anything in this world capable of rivaling his master’s eyes, perhaps it was only a fly with its myriad compound lenses. As he thought this, his scalp began to itch. He wanted to reach up and scratch, but he held back. He didn't want the master to mistake his thick, waterfall-like hair for something else and end up turning him into a monk.

Having surrendered his belt, he held up his trousers and disappeared into the moonlight.

The silhouette remained standing in the evening breeze, like a lone orchid in an empty valley or a jade pine on a desolate mountain. In all the world, there was only he. Only when the moon shone bright and clear did that thin figure slowly turn. The moonlight fell upon Ju Sifu’s delicate, ethereal face, which was clouded with unresolved contemplation.

In the trajectory of his previous life, the buffoon Song Ji should have become a wandering ghost in the mass grave, and Song Ruohua, unwilling to be constrained in the imperial prison, should have committed suicide by poison. Why was nothing going according to his will?

The image of that bright, radiant woman surfaced in his mind, along with her shrimp and her bird—all of them were of mysterious origin, and they certainly could not be kept.

***

Collecting his thoughts, he curled his lips into a faint smile and walked back to his so-called home.

A shrimp and a bird were locked in a fierce battle over a cockroach that had just died and was still warm. Song Ruozhao was with her little family, a small red clay stove bubbling with wine and tea, the scene one of harmonious joy. The sight of that supreme being enjoying such domestic bliss stung his eyes deeply.

"Hmph, our servant has returned."

Xian'an was always haughty and arrogant; the words that fell from her lips were no different from a dagger carving into flesh.

"Jingqi!" Song Ruozhao chided softly, clearly protective. "He is my person. If you still value the life he saved, show some respect."

"How can he be yours..." Jingqi almost blurted out the truth but was cowed by those naturally imposing, slanted eyes.

On second thought, her mother had passed away long ago, and her father had never had anyone to share his warmth. Now that he was lingering in this corner of the Song residence, bringing his whole family along, it was clear that her father had found love again and was deeply enamored!

She certainly had to help him win her over!

She took the cute child outside and locked the door with nimble speed, leaving only the man and the woman inside. Jingqi boasted to Ju Sifu about the key in her hand, sent the child to sleep in the kitchen, and prepared to stand guard.

She took a straw mat, sat by the door, and looked down, only to see the key she had set aside scuttling away as if it had grown feet...

Jingqi rubbed her eyes, then stepped down firmly, pinning the key under her foot. But the fishy thing beneath her sole slipped away with lightning speed: *Zhaozhao, even I can't save you now!*

Song Ruozhao, frustrated by her lack of help, sighed helplessly. "You might as well continue sleeping on the floor."

Shen Lang remained calm and composed, lying down as usual. Just as he closed his slanted eyes, the curse followed him like a shadow, undulating restlessly in his heart.

"Do you miss your mother?" he asked.

The sudden, baseless topic caught her off guard. In Song Ruozhao’s mind, the image of her mother’s weary, devoted face appeared. Her mother had wanted to send her abroad to change her identity and escape the wanted lists of the research institute. Living such a stable life now was likely what her mother had hoped for.

"How could I not miss her? It’s a pity I can’t go back..." As the words reached her lips, Song Ruozhao realized he was asking about the mistress of the Song household—her nominal mother.

Rummaging through her inherited memories, she improvised, "Mother died of illness after visiting relatives in Qingyang. I often burn incense and pray for her blessing so that I might become wealthy; in that way, I suppose I have some connections in the underworld."

"..."

The air fell silent for a moment, breaths submerged in the darkness. Shen Lang closed his eyes, his mind still haunted by the curse the woman had uttered before her defiant death.

*"Li Shi, today I am unfortunate enough to fall victim to your blade. When my seven children learn the truth, they will surely use your flesh and blood to sacrifice to me—"*

That was during the Rebellion of the Four Kings and Two Emperors. Lady Song had been renowned for her talent, and after she and the poetess Li Ye sent poems to the rebel general Zhu Ci, Li Shi had ordered her to commit suicide by the sword.

The curse still rang in his ears. Every night in the Song residence, he could not sleep, terrified that the roof might collapse or that he would succumb to poison.

They said, "If you do not enter the tiger's den, how can you catch the tiger's cubs?" But he had been acting as bait in the tiger's den for days now—why couldn't he find evidence of Song Ruozhao’s regicide?

Furthermore, where was the secret letter of denunciation that Lady Song had spoken of before her death? He had scoured the Song residence for every rat, yet he hadn't found a single clue.

He probed again, "Since your mother has passed away, she must have been very concerned about you sisters. Surely she left you many keepsakes to ease your longing?"

She smiled. "Did she tell you that in a dream?"

"..."

*Splash!* A basin of cold water poured down from the window, drenching Shen Lang. He sprang up in shock, his sleeping mat soaked through. It seemed sleep was no longer an option.

The person outside the window was smug. "Don't thank me! That's all I can do for you!"

Furious, Li Shi snapped, "What did you do for me??"

Song Ruozhao suddenly thought of something and shouted toward the window, "Jingqi, can you do me a favor?"

"Help me send a blanket to Ju Sifu so he can sleep more comfortably."

With that, a wrapped blanket was tossed out of the dilapidated window.

Shen Lang: "?"

"Did you not see me pour a whole basin of water on you?"

Song Ruozhao raised an eyebrow. "Did I pour it?"

"..."

The person outside the window answered sweetly, and in the next second, she pulled a blanket over herself.

The next day, the rooster crowed three times.

Jingqi opened the lock with great enthusiasm, hoping to catch a scene of romance, but instead, she found her father curled up in a dry corner, having made do for the night. She sighed softly; it seemed the mission to win over her stepmother was a long and arduous road.

Having been plagued by nightmares all night, Song Ruozhao woke up with a start. Since she had transmigrated here, taking over the identity of someone with the same name, where had the real, slow-witted second sister gone?

Just then, the buffoon Song Ji came running in, bursting with excitement as if the birds had brought good news. "Second Sister! A headless female corpse has appeared in the west of the city! Let's go see it together!"