Кровавое убийство - Глава 24
“Lu Rumei?” I stopped writing and looked up at her. That makes sense. Since Jingyou Villa has a villa by Xuanwu Lake, it’s not surprising that Xiaofeng might run into her on the street. But I was concerned about something else. “Xiaofeng, did she see that lamp too?” I began to regret painting that picture. I was afraid it would bring me endless trouble.
"No, that shouldn't be the case, because someone offered fifty taels of silver to buy that lamp from my father early this morning!" Xiao Feng said, unable to contain her pride as she spoke of it.
"Who would pay such a high price for a worthless lamp?" I became increasingly uneasy—the person who bought the lamp either knew the two people in the painting, had too much money to burn, or was sick, mentally ill! But I was most afraid of the former.
"Hey, Brother Qingyang, what are you drawing?" Xiaofeng finally noticed what I was doing and looked curious.
"Oh, this is a kind of comic book from my hometown. It's called comics, or serialized pictures." I explained to her with a smile, "I grew up reading these comic books."
"It's a pity I can't read, otherwise I would like to read it too." Xiao Feng looked dejected.
"Of course you can see it. Anyone with eyes can see it." I smiled and patted her head. "I drew these for people like Xiaofeng who have never been to school."
“Yes, I can ask Xiaolong to tell me the characters I don’t recognize,” Xiaofeng said innocently, pointing to the writing on the painting. “What is this? It looks different from the characters the teacher wrote.” Xiaolong was her twin brother, who had the right to read simply because he was male. Xiaofeng seemed to think this was perfectly natural and saw nothing wrong with it.
"Oh, this is called pen calligraphy. It's a style of calligraphy from my hometown." I patiently explained to her—using a brush requires suspending the wrist, but my arm is injured, so it was too strenuous. I had to break off the brush tip and use the sharpened handle to dip in ink, making do with a fountain pen.
"Brother Qingyang, what did you draw? Is it a story? Why is this person holding a knife? Did he kill all those people on the ground? He's so scary!" Xiaofeng shivered and looked frightened.
"Yes, it's a story. Like the kind of martial arts tales a storyteller tells." I nodded gently in affirmation—this was more than just a story. The drawing I made depicted the events that occurred that day at the Sunjiawan Inn.
"I know, Brother Qingyang, do you want me to spread the story from this comic book when my second uncle tells stories?" Xiaofeng suddenly had a flash of inspiration and saw through my 'scheme' in one sentence.
I remained silent, only giving her an approving look. Xiaofeng was indeed a very clever child. If she had the opportunity to study, she would surely achieve great things.
I believe that before long, this comic strip will attract the attention of those who are interested. And at that time, perhaps Huaiyuan's guilt will be cleared—although I don't know martial arts, I can at least distinguish between a sword and a knife. Since he is called the Heartless Sword, his weapon should be a sword, not a knife.
Watching Xiaofeng's figure disappear, I wasn't sure if my efforts would help Huaiyuan. But I had done my best, hadn't I?
Looking at my arm, swollen from a sleepless night and working all night to finish a painting, I smiled bitterly—I wondered if I could save my right arm? Although I had consulted a doctor, I didn't know if it was because the medical conditions were too poor or because my wandering and wandering had delayed the treatment, but my hand was inflamed on and off.
Moreover, in this era, so-called renowned doctors were extremely rare and difficult for ordinary people to find. Unlike in modern times, where famous doctors hold clinics and you can see a doctor simply by making an appointment. In a time and space where people were divided into social classes, the difficulties ordinary people faced in surviving were beyond our imagination.
Whether that comic book could clear Huaiyuan of his guilt, I do not know, but it is an undeniable fact that it brought me an uninvited guest.
After I had been unconscious for two days, I stepped out of my house to take a walk by the lake. I immediately saw a man in white standing with his hands behind his back in front of my house. He looked like he had been waiting for a long time.
Hearing me open the door, he turned around, smiled, and greeted me as if we had been friends for years. "Brother Ye, how have you been?"
"You are...?" I looked him up and down, his handsome face seemed familiar, but I couldn't piece together any memories of him.
"Forgot? 'The Magpie Bridge Fairy'." He wasn't angry at all, and kindly reminded me. Seeing that I suddenly realized, he smiled and said, "I am Yan Zongwang."
Strange, are natural foods really that good? And how come there were so many handsome men and beautiful women in ancient times? I stared at his dashing, elegant face, and suddenly felt an urge to punch him—it's one thing to be so handsome, but why does he always have that seductive smile? Is he a giggler?!
"It's been a few days, Brother Ye, you seem to have lost some weight." He looked concerned. "Is there something wrong with your health?"
"It's an old injury, it's nothing serious," I said casually—could he be a miracle doctor? Could he really heal my hand injury?
"If it's an old ailment, Brother Ye, you'd better be careful. Luckily, one of my servants knows a little about medicine. If you don't mind, could he take your pulse?" He looked very concerned—goodness, he even brings his family doctor with him when he goes out. He's probably not someone to be trifled with.
"What do you need me for?" I didn't bother asking how he found me—it was obvious to anyone that Xiao Feng's lamp had helped him. I was just curious why he, a complete stranger, would help me.
"Brother Ye, are you always so aloof?" He greeted him with a smile. "It seems you're about to go out. Perhaps it's better to meet by chance than to invite someone. How about we travel together?"
It was probably a coincidence, but his sincerity made me feel a little embarrassed. Anyway, I was bored by myself, so I figured I might as well go with him; there was no harm in it.
I never imagined that his casual stroll would lead me to a brothel! Looking at the men around me, all bloated and drunk, surrounded by beautiful women, I felt nauseous and turned to leave Yueming Tower. I never expected that he, who seemed handsome and dashing and of good character, was actually so dissolute and promiscuous at heart.
"Brother Ye, please calm down." Yan Zongwang grabbed my hand at this moment—damn it, why did it have to be my injured hand? The pain almost brought tears to my eyes, so I had no choice but to obediently follow him upstairs to a private room on the second floor.
The room wasn't decorated with the gaudy, tacky red and green garnishes I'd imagined. Instead, it was simply and brightly furnished, without a trace of femininity. It didn't resemble the boudoir of a courtesan; it looked more like an ordinary home. There were no young women sitting inside, but rather three burly, robust men from the Guanzhong Plain.
What's going on? Is he hiding his home in a brothel? Why would he do that? What is he trying to conceal? What is his purpose in bringing me here? Who exactly is he? These questions swirled in my mind, but I managed to remain outwardly calm—after experiencing so many hardships, I've long since learned to take things in stride.
When Yan Zongwang led me inside, all three people in the room bowed and stood there, their faces showing surprise and doubt—could I be the first outsider to enter this secret base?
"Wu Chun, this Brother Ye has an injured arm, could you take a look at it?" Zong Wang casually handed me over to a thin old man who had just come out of the inner room—so he had noticed my injured right hand earlier that morning and had deliberately dragged it along?!
I glared at him, resentful: "This guy looks malnourished himself, are you sure he can really cure me? He won't cripple me?"
"Don't worry, Wu Chun is the best doctor in my family. Ordinary sword wounds are no problem for him." He was quite calm and nonchalant. I was the one who was being tested on him! The other three burly men looked displeased when they saw me questioning the old man's medical skills, but they didn't make a scene, probably out of respect for Zong Wang.
"How did you know I had a knife wound?" The question reached my lips, but I swallowed it back. Even if I asked, he wouldn't tell me—this man is elusive and must be someone of considerable importance. Surely I could trust the people he admires?
"Young Master Ye, please." Wu Chun himself didn't seem to care much, and took my hand to check my pulse. After a long while, he suddenly gave me a strange look, let go of my hand, walked to Zong Wang's side, and whispered something to him.
Zongwang gave me a half-smile upon hearing this. He coughed lightly and said, "It's alright. Give him some medicine and let him take it home and take it himself."
"Hey, what did he say to you?" I asked, annoyed.
"What do you think?" he asked instead of answering, his expression seemingly extremely pleased. Could he really be sick?
This book was first published on Xiaoxiang Novel Original Website. Please retain this information when reprinting!
[Volume Two: Parting Chapter Five - A Rendezvous After Dusk]
I have to admit that although Wu Chun himself wasn't very good-looking, his medical skills were amazing—the same black Chinese medicine that others drank didn't help, but after he drank it, my wound stopped getting inflamed and swollen, and began to heal gradually.
That day, Zongwang came to see me again and gave me some ointment to apply to my wound, saying it would lighten the scar. I looked at him suspiciously—had he discovered something? It shouldn't be, I thought that with my two years of experience in the drama club, I had already concealed it very well, and I was no longer as awkward as when I first dressed as a man—Xiaofeng came almost every day and didn't notice anything, which was the best proof.
Although I desperately wanted to refuse with great pride, I had to admit: humans are truly insatiable creatures—I had initially thought I was going to lose my right hand and was only focused on keeping one hand from becoming disabled; now that the injury had healed, I didn't want to have a scar. So, despite my reluctance, I had no choice but to accept the ointment under his ambiguous gaze.
"What is it now?" For some reason, the friendlier he was to me, the more suspicious I became of his motives. So I often gave him a cold shoulder—strangely enough, he didn't seem to care at all and always greeted me with a smile.
"Today is the River Lantern Festival. I heard that if you put a lantern with your wish written on it in the river and it floats to the other side without going out, your wish will come true. Why don't we give it a try?" He invited me with a beaming smile.
"No way. I didn't expect Brother Yan to actually believe in this stuff." I rolled my eyes at him, showing little interest.