The Golden Hairpin

Huang Zixiang had heard Yu Xuan mention this before, but he hadn’t gone into detail. Now, as Chen Lunyun brought it up, her heart skipped a beat, and she blurted out, “A failed suicide attempt?”

“Yes, it happened right after the incident at Prefect Huang’s residence and the Huang family’s daughter fled. Everyone in Chengdu knew that Miss Huang and Yu Xuan were close, yet no one could have imagined that after Prefect Huang’s tragedy, it would be Yu Xuan who stepped forward to accuse Miss Huang. And no one expected that after Miss Huang disappeared, Yu Xuan would attempt to take his own life at Prefect Huang’s grave on the day of the funeral—nor that the one to save him would be Qi Teng, who usually seemed to have no connection with him at all.” Chen Lunyun sighed. “Only a few of us in the poetry society know about this. Since Yu Xuan and Qi Teng are both our friends, those who found out kept it to themselves.”

Huang Zixiang felt a dull ache in her chest and could only lean back against the chair in silence.

“But Yu Xuan was unconscious for several days after that. I wonder if it caused some damage… Don’t you think his temperament has changed?”

Hearing the others echo this sentiment, Chen Lunyun nodded. “Indeed. He used to be such an extraordinary person, but after that upheaval, he became absent-minded—as if he didn’t care about anything, yet also as if he was wary of everyone. And often, things he said to us one day, he’d forget by the next…”

“And if we accidentally mentioned anything related to the prefect’s residence, he’d get terrible headaches. At first, I thought it was grief over the prefect’s death, but he’d break into a cold sweat, collapse, and nearly die again. So we… have to be very careful around him, avoiding anything that might upset him.” Others chimed in, equally puzzled.

“Medically speaking, such reactions are possible,” Zhou Ziqin interjected, sounding knowledgeable. “After a severe trauma, the mind may instinctively reject certain memories, leading to extreme reactions. Also, during his suicide attempt, something in his brain might have been affected, altering his personality. I once read an ancient text describing a similar case…”

The group then delved into discussions about near-death experiences and personality changes after major trauma, citing rumors and historical cases. Huang Zixiang listened for a long while but found nothing useful. She let the words go in one ear and out the other, sitting quietly while piecing together the tangled threads of the case in her mind.

As time passed, Yu Xuan, who was also part of the poetry society, still hadn’t arrived.

Seeing the awkward silence among the group, Zhou Ziqin stood up. “Thank you all for enlightening me. I’ll take my leave now. Next time you gather at Qingyuan, do let me know—I’d love to join and pretend to be cultured.”

“Ah, Young Constable, coming all the way from Chang’an with such wit and insight, your presence alone honors us country folk!”

“Indeed, indeed! For Young Constable to grace us with his company is truly our good fortune!”

Once again, Zhou Ziqin demonstrated his knack for befriending everyone. With a few casual remarks, he had effortlessly become a cherished acquaintance of the entire Qingyuan Poetry Society.Several people saw them off at Qingxi Creek, reluctant to part ways.

Qingxi was originally a large mountain valley, surrounded by dense trees. A clear stream split into three or four smaller branches at the mouth of the valley due to the rocky terrain, only to converge again at the end and surge forward.

As they mounted their horses and followed the creek out of the valley, they noticed a solitary figure walking alone on the opposite side of Qingxi.

It was Yu Xuan. Hearing the sound of hooves, he turned his head to look in their direction. Standing in the shade of the forest, the breeze from the water lifting the hem of his robe, he silently watched her from across the stream.

Huang Zixiao hesitated for a moment. Seeing Zhou Ziqin glance back at her, she said to him, "Go on ahead. I think I dropped something—I need to go back and look for it."

Zhou Ziqin gave an "Oh" in response, scanning the surroundings. But a large boulder beside him blocked his view of Yu Xuan on the other side of the creek. Seeing only the deep, quiet woods and the murmuring stream, he found nothing amiss and simply said, "Then hurry up."

Once he had left the forest and headed toward the main road, Huang Zixiao urged her horse upstream, crossing the creek to approach Yu Xuan before dismounting.

She heard his voice—low, weary, and slightly hoarse, as if he had been standing there for a long time. "A-Xiao..."

Hearing this address again felt like a lifetime had passed.

Back in Chengdu, within the prefectural residence, how many times had he called her like this? "A-Xiao."

He had once chided her, "A-Xiao, you’ve been so caught up in the case that you forgot to eat again, haven’t you?" before smiling and producing still-warm food from behind his back.

He had once cheered, "A-Xiao, I went through all the account books related to the case last night and finally found an irregular entry from April two years ago!"

He had once fretted, "A-Xiao, I’m worried about the victim’s orphaned child. Let’s visit the charity house quietly and bring him some treats?"

All these memories flooded her mind in an overwhelming wave. The earnest reminders she had once found tedious, the trivial details she had once dismissed as meaningless—now, standing before him again, they filled her with sorrow.

He asked her softly, "Do you have any leads on Qi Teng’s death yesterday?"

The familiarity of his words struck her—just like all the cases before, when he had casually inquired.

Huang Zixiao lowered her gaze, deliberately avoiding his expression. "Not yet. On the surface, he seems like someone with no reason to die—he was amiable, held the position of military judge in the Jiedushi’s office, and seemed to get along with everyone—"

Yu Xuan frowned absently, murmuring in agreement, "Yes… who would want to kill him?"

"Exactly. On the surface, everyone seemed to be on good terms with him, but who knows—perhaps many had reasons to kill him, just not yet revealed." Huang Zixiao raised her eyes to look at him, her voice dropping to a whisper. "For example, someone might have been unhappy with his marriage—perhaps unwilling to let the Zhou family’s daughter marry him. Or maybe he stood in someone’s way on their career path, blocking their rise. Or… perhaps he had wronged someone in the past—say, by publicly humiliating them at some point."

Yu Xuan’s face instantly paled. His eyes widened in shock as he stared at her in disbelief. After a long pause, he gave a bitter smile and asked, "You saw it?""Yes... I happened to be nearby at the time," Huang Zixiang said softly.

Yu Xuan gazed at her for a long moment before asking, "So, you suspect I'm the murderer?"

"With the truth still unclear, you could be the murderer—or Zhou Ziqin, Zhang Xingying, even I could be... Everything remains uncertain."

Yu Xuan studied her expression, searching for any hint about himself, but found none. Her demeanor was calm, revealing nothing unusual.

He sighed lightly and said, "Yes, yesterday morning, he said those things to me. I wasn't entirely clear about them, but I felt they must be of great importance to me. I planned to ask him about those matters after the banquet, but who could have known he would suddenly... die amidst that performance."

Huang Zixiang looked at his profile, noticing the gloom on his strikingly handsome face, which stirred something in her heart. Perhaps Qi Teng's death had affected him deeply as well.

She sighed softly and asked, "After my parents passed away, why did you attempt to take your own life?"

Yu Xuan's face paled, his sorrow faintly visible. He turned away from her and said hoarsely, "It has nothing to do with you... I just wanted to follow my adoptive parents."

Huang Zixiang nodded slightly and pressed on, "I heard it was Qi Teng who saved you after your suicide attempt?"

"Yes..."

"So, he was your savior in a way. Yet you knew nothing about the man who saved your life?"

Yu Xuan replied indifferently, "It was merely a coincidence. He saved me, but my heart was already dead—I had no desire to live. So, he can hardly be considered my benefactor."

His expression was distant and cold, as if Qi Teng truly meant nothing to him. Huang Zixiang sighed and said, "If you can't remember, then so be it... In any case, I will uncover everything and present irrefutable evidence to the world, revealing who truly killed my parents."

Yu Xuan stared at her intently and asked quietly, "Have you looked into that second letter yet?"

Huang Zixiang lowered her lashes, avoiding the question, and stood up. "I never wrote such a letter—that much is certain."

Seeing her reluctance to answer directly, Yu Xuan's voice turned icy. "Huang Zixiang, you still haven't cleared your own name, yet you're busy investigating an entirely unrelated case. I can't help but doubt whether the conclusions you'll eventually reach will be accurate..."

At his skepticism, her voice sharpened involuntarily. "Are you suggesting I returned to pin the blame on an innocent person under the guise of investigation, just to secure my own freedom?"

He shook his head, lost in thought for a moment, then said, "You know that's not what I meant. I'm just... worried. Could there be parts of your past you're unaware of, things you've chosen to avoid for some reason?"

"Our memories don't align, and that's made me think a lot. Perhaps the real culprit is between us. During the time our accounts differ, something must have happened." As she spoke, her gaze shifted back to him.In the dense woods by the clear stream, beneath the dappled sunlight, she saw his slender figure and those long-unseen clear eyes on that all-too-familiar handsome face. The man before her had ruthlessly severed their shared past, even presenting the love letters she'd personally written as evidence to her enemies. Yet now, as he gazed at her, he still resembled that spirited youth of old—though clearly, an impassable distance now lay between them, and they could never walk hand in hand again.

Suddenly, the words she'd spoken to Li Shubai under flickering candlelight yesterday flashed before her eyes.

Even now, she marveled at why she'd momentarily yielded to the surging emotions in her chest and taken his hand.

And when he'd turned his hand to grasp hers—what had he been feeling then?

She shook her head, casting aside these thoughts, only to hear Yu Xuan's voice: "That period when our accounts didn't match... I've always felt it must be crucially important."

As he spoke, he raised a hand to his temple, and Huang Zixiao saw the faintly pulsing veins on the back of his hand.

He cared so deeply about this case—and was equally terrified of the answer.

Like her, they both vaguely understood in their hearts that the strange occurrences surrounding them would lead either him or her to utter ruin, leaving them unable to face those waiting underground after death.

But who exactly was that person? Between them, who was the one with the problem—him or her?

Huang Zixiao sighed deeply and turned away. "I'm leaving. Take... take care of yourself."

Seeing her about to depart, in his urgency he reached out and grasped her wrist, calling softly, "A-Xia..."

His hand was ice-cold, trembling slightly, his cold sweat dampening her fingers.

Huang Zixiao turned back, shook her head, and slowly withdrew her hand. "Yu Xuan," she said quietly, "everything will have its conclusion in the end."

"Then... will your conclusion still be with Wang Yun?" he asked abruptly after a moment's clenched silence.

Huang Zixiao turned back in astonishment, staring at him blankly.

He withdrew his hand and stood quietly beneath the trees, gazing at her for a long while before saying softly, "At this point, I've no right to say anything to you. But... last night, I followed you out of the governor's residence and saw..."

Saw what? Saw her riding side by side with Wang Yun? Saw her mounting Wang Yun's horse to ride with him? Saw her arms around Wang Yun's waist?

But he certainly hadn't seen the moment she'd held a knife to Wang Yun's throat.

Yet Huang Zixiao only smiled self-deprecatingly and said, "Sometimes, seeing isn't necessarily believing."

She offered no explanation, said nothing more. Mounting Nafosha, she rode away, the hoofbeats gradually fading.

The long wind swirled, the vast blue sky stretching endlessly, leaving him alone in the breeze, watching with painful clarity as she departed without a backward glance.