The Golden Hairpin

Good Things Come in Pairs—her lifelong commitment, his freedom, all hinged on this moment of her decision. Yet she clutched the two red beans tightly, bathed in the rosy glow of twilight, unable to utter a single word.

Though Yongchang Lane lay close to the Daming Palace, dusk had settled in, with evening smoke rising from every household and doors shut tight, leaving the neighborhood momentarily desolate.

Wang Zongshi escorted Huang Ziyao to the entrance of the Wang residence. As the carriage halted, Wang Yun emerged from within—he had been waiting for her for quite some time.

Upon seeing Wang Zongshi, Wang Yun couldn’t help but feel slightly awkward and greeted him, “Eunuch Wang.”

“Hmm.” With that, Wang Zongshi shut the carriage door without so much as a farewell and drove off.

Watching his carriage depart, Wang Yun turned to Huang Ziyao with a smile. “As I’ve said before, in all the world, Eunuch Wang only holds you in high regard. Even I barely warrant his attention.”

Huang Ziyao lowered her head, offering a weary smile but saying nothing in response.

The household staff were attentive, having prepared dinner for two. Wang Yun naturally joined her for the meal.

The fiery hues of the setting sun reflected into the small pavilion, bathing them both in a crimson glow. Wang Yun gazed at her face, gilded by the twilight, unable to tear his eyes away.

Sensing his gaze, Huang Ziyao turned her face aside and called for someone to bring a lamp.

As the sunset faded, the deep blue of night began to descend. They sat across from each other, illuminated by candlelight and the remnants of dusk. Unable to hold back any longer, she finally asked, “Was there something important that brought you here today?”

Wang Yun smiled faintly, setting down his silver chopsticks. “First, to congratulate you on clearing your name, identifying the true culprit, and escaping the ordeal of imprisonment.”

Huang Ziyao lowered her lashes. “It was all thanks to your help, Young Master Wang… Yunzhi. Otherwise, how could I have left the Dali Temple?”

“I had intended to confront Zhang Xingying directly to uncover the truth, but Eunuch Wang insisted you would handle it adeptly, so I left it to you,” Wang Yun said, interlacing his fingers as he looked at her. “Second, if all goes well, Prince Kui will return to his residence safe and sound in a month or two, resuming his duties as usual—perhaps even with greater prestige.”

Huang Ziyao’s eyes widened in shock. “Is that true?”

“Of course. Why would I lie to you?” His expression grew complex as he studied her mix of joy and doubt, his gaze revealing emotions too profound to voice. “Third… Ziyao, spring is near, and the earth is warming. If I were to accompany you back to Shu now… would the timing be suitable?”

His smile was gentle, the curve of his lips tender, his gaze cautious yet tinged with an uncharacteristic shyness. His clasped hands betrayed the tension he couldn’t fully conceal.

Huang Ziyao’s eyes flickered with surprise, but she soon lowered them again, her lashes shielding her own gaze—and his.

Wang Yun’s voice remained soft, yet it carried an inexplicable chill: “This way, by the time we return, Prince Kui will be back in his residence. Isn’t that… good things coming in pairs?”Her hands trembled slightly, uncontrollably. Subconsciously, she reached out and tightly grasped the two red beans on her wrist. Nestled naturally within the curve, those two crimson lovesickness beans were smooth, translucent, and still faintly warm.

She understood his meaning. Traveling back to Shu with Wang Yun would naturally mean paying respects to her deceased parents and elder brother, after which the elders of the Huang family would oversee her marriage. The Wang family would then formally welcome her as a bride.

When the emperor visited Li Shubai today, the murderous intent in his eyes was unmistakable. It wouldn’t be long before he would surely move to eliminate Li Shubai. The situation had grown so perilous that they were now backed into a corner with no retreat. Yet, since Wang Yun had spoken to her this way, she believed he must be confident that by the time they returned from their wedding, Li Shubai would be free from danger. Given the current dire circumstances, she couldn’t fathom what method the Langya Wang family might employ, but since he had made such a promise, she trusted it would be foolproof.

Two blessings at once—her lifelong commitment, his freedom—all hinged on this single decision of hers.

Yet, clutching those two red beans tightly, bathed in the rosy twilight, she found herself unable to utter a single word.

Wang Yun watched her hesitation and unease, and for a fleeting moment, an uncontrollable surge of resentment flashed through his heart. But he quickly averted his face, afraid she might glimpse the emotions in his eyes.

He recalled what Li Shubai had once said to him after his failed assassination attempt, when he feared implicating his family. Li Shubai had goaded him with a smile, saying, “Yunzhi, do you lack such confidence in yourself? Do you truly believe that without the binding force of a marriage contract, Zixia wouldn’t choose you?”

Even then, he had known that if he took Li Shubai’s bait and wrote that annulment, he might never have another chance to be with Huang Zixia in this lifetime. Yet, he had feigned ignorance, trading that annulment for Li Shubai’s promise to return north to the capital, all to protect himself and his family.

So when he encountered Huang Zixia, frozen and unconscious at Anguo Temple, and brought her back to the Wang residence, he had almost thanked the heavens for granting him this opportunity. She was stubbornly determined to unravel the mysteries surrounding Li Shubai, and he was well aware she sought the support of the Langya Wang family. Yet, since she was so intent on helping Li Shubai, he had no choice but to pretend ignorance. After all, he consoled himself, he had once used her too—perhaps this balanced the scales.

In truth, both of them knew each other’s thoughts perfectly well. Yet, they maintained this thin veil between them, neither willing to pierce it, deliberately preserving the pretense.

Until now. In the face of her silence, he could no longer endure it. Gazing at the last remnants of dusky purple twilight outside the window, he finally spoke: “There’s a fourth matter. I’m certain you’ll want to hear it.”

“No… there’s no need.” Huang Zixia cut him off. She lifted her gaze to meet his, offering a smile even dimmer than the fading twilight. “With spring’s warmth and blossoms in full bloom, it’s the perfect time to journey south to Shu.”

Wang Yun hadn’t expected her to agree so readily and was momentarily stunned.Having spoken her mind, she seemed to exhale in relief, then continued slowly, as if talking to herself, "Yes, we are bound to marry sooner or later. What difference does it make if it's a little earlier or later? As for Prince Kui... if you can help him escape this calamity, it would be repaying a debt on my behalf. After that, we would be... even, with no further ties between us."

Wang Yun noticed her absent-minded gaze fixed on the sunset outside the window, her words seeming less directed at him and more at herself. A strange ache welled up in his heart, but he still managed a gentle smile. He reached out to take her limp wrist, pulling her right hand away from the two red beans, and said softly, "Fourthly, the restlessness of the military governors presents us with a golden opportunity. Rumors will soon spread in the capital, highlighting how the regional warlords will become uncontrollable after Prince Kui's death. Once His Majesty moves against Prince Kui, it will be akin to tearing down his own defenses. I believe the Emperor will not disregard this threat."

In an instant, Huang Zixiang recalled Li Shubai's words to her. He had seemed opposed to such a strategy, primarily fearing that leaking information might trace back to them, bringing disaster upon themselves. This time, since the Wang family had little connection to Prince Kui's household, any investigation would likely lead nowhere.

Thus, she merely nodded without speaking.

Seeing her nod, Wang Yun smiled faintly and clasped her hand between his palms, holding it quietly for a long while.

The last hues of the sunset—gold and purple—were so dazzlingly vibrant that they seemed on the verge of vanishing. Holding her hand, he gazed at the fading twilight outside, feeling her fingers cold and weak in his grasp, as if devoid of any strength.

That night, Huang Zixiang sat by the candlelight, removing the golden-threaded red beans from her wrist and tucking them into a brocade pouch.

She placed the pouch beneath her pillow and leaned against the bed, staring blankly at the night outside. The bitter cold of the first lunar month turned breath to frost, and the stars and moon, steeped in the chill, shone with an even sharper brilliance.

Her gaze wandered aimlessly around the room before settling on the pair of tiny red fish on the table. Normally so still, today they darted excitedly through the water, circling a single red bean at the bottom of the bowl.

The same vivid red, the same smooth roundness as the two beans she had just removed from her wrist—her heart skipped a beat.

She sat up and walked to the table for a closer look.

It turned out to be a cluster of tiny fish eggs, neatly gathered at the bottom of the crystal bowl, each no larger than half a grain of rice, resembling a droplet of blood sinking in the water.

Dazed, she dipped her fingers into the water to touch the cluster. The Agashini fish were only the length of a finger joint, and their eggs were even smaller—like specks of dust, scattering at the slightest touch and vanishing into the water like a wisp of dissipating bloodstain, barely visible, gathering and dispersing.

She remembered Wang Zongshi's words when he gifted her the fish: "These fish are exceedingly difficult to breed. No one knows how to hatch their eggs, which is why they are so rare. Since the eggs are precious and you don’t know the method, let me know when they spawn, and I’ll come collect them myself."She lifted the crystal vial, carefully observing the fish eggs settled at the bottom. A fleeting memory surfaced in her mind—words Qi Teng had once whispered to Yu Xuan in Shu that she had accidentally overheard: "Do you remember what happened to my little red fish?"

That seemingly casual remark now sent a chill down her spine. The tiny fish, which had appeared so innocent and insignificant, now seemed as though it had congealed from blood. The sinister implications made her shudder, and she involuntarily set the vial down, retreating several steps.

After a long pause, she blew out the lamp on the table and retreated to her bed by the faint moonlight. Yet the little fish in the crystal vial remained wildly active, stirring the water and casting eerie ripples of light across the room, amplifying her unease.

Huang Zixiang rose again and moved the vial to a corner untouched by moonlight before finally lying down with some semblance of peace.

She thought of her parents' deaths, of Yu Xuan's demise, of the poisoned wine, and of Li Shubai's talisman. Slowly, she curled into herself and closed her eyes. Reaching under her pillow, she grasped the embroidered pouch and pressed it against her cheek. The soft satin brushed her skin, barely betraying the presence of its contents.

In her heart, she thought: Choose the simplest path. Too many people I care about have been dragged into this, and I'm exhausted.

After all, no matter how one lives, life will eventually end.

Who stays by her side—does it truly matter? As long as Li Shubai could lead a different life, as long as those dear to her no longer suffered tragedies because of her, what did anything else matter?

She lay quietly against the pillow and shut her eyes.

In a daze, she heard a gentle voice calling her: "Zixiang, Zixiang..."

She opened her eyes to see Li Shubai standing by her bed. He leaned over, gazing at her intently, the moonlight casting his silhouette sharply against her vision.

Overcome with weakness, she reached out and whispered, "Your Highness," before tears spilled instantly. As he stretched his hand toward her, it turned blood-red midair. To her horror, she realized the figure reaching for her was not Li Shubai but Yu Xuan. He called out "A-Xia," blood gushing from his mouth before it even touched the ground, transforming into countless leaping Agashini and fish eggs. The crimson fish coalesced into a sharp blade that plunged into a chest—it was Prince E Li Run, driving the dagger into his own heart while laughing maniacally, his body dissolving into a sky-consuming blaze. It was the fire he had ignited at Xiangluan Pavilion, twisting the night into something grotesque and surreal...

Huang Zixiang jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat. Daylight already streamed through the window.

The pouch beneath her pillow remained, and the little fish still swam in the crystal vial.

A new day had arrived, and with it, countless enigmas awaited her. No matter how exhausted she was, she had to face them all—there was no escape.

She draped a robe over her shoulders, took up brush and ink, and penned a letter addressed to Zhou Ziqin's elder brother's residence, instructing a servant to deliver it.

By the time she finished washing up and sat down for breakfast, Zhou Ziqin had already rushed over. He sat across from her, hesitating as if holding back words.

Huang Zixiang ladled him a bowl of porridge and handed it over. Zhou Ziqin cradled the bowl, studying her before tentatively asking, "In your letter... you asked me to keep an eye on Dicui?"Huang Zixiao nodded and said, "I'm very worried about her—afraid someone might harm her, and even more afraid she might harm herself."

Zhou Ziqin looked at her with hesitation, pausing for a moment before replying, "Dicu, she..."

"What happened to her?" Huang Zixiao's heart clenched as she pressed urgently.

"I didn’t want to tell you at first, afraid it would upset you... But yesterday, when I went to the southern city mortuary to pay respects to Second Brother Zhang, I ran into Elder Brother Zhang, who had come to identify the body. He... he was completely broken, crying that his younger brother was dead, his father was dead, and now even Dicu was missing..."

Huang Zixiao asked anxiously, "How could she be missing?"

"Well... after Old Man Zhang secretly left home, Second Brother Zhang’s elder brother and sister-in-law went searching with Dicu. They ended up at the city gate tower, but Dicu... no one knows where she went. She never came back," Zhou Ziqin rested his forehead in his hand, his expression distraught. "I went to inquire early this morning, and Elder Brother Zhang said Dicu still hasn’t returned..."

"Hasn’t returned..." Huang Zixiao fell silent for a moment before asking, "Have you checked with the major government offices?"

After Dicu’s father was implicated in the crime, the Emperor himself had ordered her execution. Although the Dali Temple had only perfunctorily posted one or two wanted notices at the city gates for a few days, she was still a fugitive of high priority. Now that she had suddenly vanished, the worst was likely to have happened.

"No! I’ll go ask right away," Zhou Ziqin said quickly.

"Remember to avoid mentioning Dicu’s identity—just discreetly ask if there have been any lone women found," Huang Zixiao instructed him.

He nodded, then suddenly remembered something. Glancing around, he lowered his voice and asked, "Have you seen His Highness recently?"

Huang Zixiao hesitated for a moment before nodding slightly. "Mm."

"Is His Highness... alright?" he pressed urgently.

Huang Zixiao replied softly, "He’s fine."

"Fine? No, it’s bad!" Zhou Ziqin cut her off, his face full of anxiety. "The whole capital is buzzing with rumors that Prince Kui... is going to die!"

She pressed her lips together and asked, "Why?"

"Do you remember the matter of welcoming the Buddha’s relic?"

She gave a slight nod.

"When they first proposed building pagodas to welcome the relic into the capital, Prince Kui was the one who strongly opposed it. Later, after the number was reduced, the plan went ahead. People in the city are saying it’s because Prince Kui is possessed by an evil spirit!"

"Didn’t they still end up building seventy-two along the route?"

"The common folk say that one hundred and eight pagodas would have been enough to suppress all the demons in the land, while seventy-two can only ward off misfortune. Prince Kui interfered to reduce the number by thirty-six—all to save his own life!" Zhou Ziqin pointed outside the wall, his face frantic. "Now the rumors are spreading like wildfire, all over the streets and alleys! And with Prince E’s death earlier, and yesterday’s deaths of Second Brother Zhang and his father... I heard that last night, over a hundred elderly men from a dozen wards jointly submitted a petition, urging the court to bypass legal procedures and swiftly execute the demon to appease Prince E’s spirit!"

Huang Zixiao took a deep breath and asked slowly, "So... this petition must already be before His Majesty?"

"Most likely... but who knows how His Majesty will decide?" Zhou Ziqin clasped his hands together in prayer. "I can only hope His Majesty remembers Prince Kui’s years of service and doesn’t believe that nonsense. The case should be handed over to the Dali Temple or the Ministry of Justice—that’s the only proper way.""I hope so," Huang Zixiao murmured. In truth, she knew this was utterly impossible. The emperor had long harbored intentions to kill Prince Kui—this letter would only add fuel to the fire. Even the reason why those officials had submitted the petition might have been prearranged. She shook her head but only said, "The Ministry of Justice, the Dali Temple—who would dare preside over this case? Minister Cui or Minister Wang—who would take on this hot potato?"

"Eunuch Wang, isn't he investigating the case under the name of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices? And aren't you assisting him in the investigation?"

"But the Court of Imperial Sacrifices isn't an official judicial body. Right now, I'm investigating alone with no support. The case is already fraught with difficulties, and with two princes involved, the court's factions are deeply entangled, making progress impossible. Where can we even begin?"

"I'll help you! We... we'll start with that ink removal method!" Zhou Ziqin straightened up and said solemnly, "Last time, I went to block Mr. Yi's door and forced him to reveal the ink removal technique. He still refused to teach me, but after I groveled and begged for an entire day, he finally admitted it was a secret he wouldn't share unless I became his formal disciple."

"What happened then?" Huang Zixiao knew his ability to pester was second to none—there was nothing he couldn't achieve.

Sure enough, he immediately leaned in closer and said, "I immediately prepared the six ceremonial gifts, knelt down, served tea, kowtowed, and formally became his disciple. That very afternoon, I wrung the secret out of him!"

Huang Zixiao didn't know whether to admire or despise him. In the end, she chose to silently lower her head and sip her porridge. "Why didn't you tell me about this earlier?"

At her words, Zhou Ziqin's face fell again. "Don't even mention it. The method I ended up with was useless for that talisman."

"Tell me about the method."

"Here's how it works: to remove cinnabar from a talisman, you need to lightly heat the paper near a flame while it's still warm, continuously dabbing it with a soft cloth soaked in white vinegar to absorb the pigment. At the same time, you must keep it over a low flame to prevent the paper from becoming too damp and disintegrating. Thick paper can handle it, but thin paper is beyond saving. To completely extract the cinnabar from thick paper without damaging it, the process usually takes a full day and night of intermittent absorption. After all the color is removed, you then brew tea indoors and steam the paper for another day to eliminate the vinegar smell."

Huang Zixiao pondered, "So it takes at least two days and one night?"

"Exactly. But as you and Prince Kui mentioned before, that talisman changed color several times in less than half a day—it couldn't possibly have been done this way." Zhou Ziqin clutched his head in frustration.

"Moreover, Prince Kui has an extraordinary memory. If the talisman had been subjected to such treatment, how could he not have noticed?" Huang Zixiao frowned slightly, lost in thought for a moment before slowly saying, "Perhaps we've been approaching this backward all along."

"Backward how?" Zhou Ziqin pressed eagerly.

"Maybe there was never any need for a method to erase the talisman. There might be a much simpler approach..." She furrowed her brows tightly. "But without seeing Prince Kui's talisman now, I can't confirm my suspicions."

"Where is Prince Kui's talisman now?"

"It should still be in the prince's residence, in the Yubing Pavilion. But Prince Kui is currently detained in the Court of Imperial Sacrifices at Xiuzheng Lane and can't return to retrieve it."Zhou Ziqin thought for a moment, then slapped his forehead and said, "I'll take my box and secretly swap it with Prince Kui's box, then deliver it to him. Wouldn't that work?"

Huang Zitang found it somewhat amusing: "Why go through all the trouble of secretly swapping boxes? Now that the charm isn't crucial anymore, wouldn't it be better to ask someone to relay a message to Prince Kui and request a note from him to retrieve the item from the palace?"

"Oh... that makes sense too." Zhou Ziqin wasted no time and immediately stood up to leave. "It's settled then. Once I get that charm, I'll bring it over for you to examine."

Huang Zixiao watched helplessly as he dashed toward the door. For someone like Zhou Ziqin, who came and went like the wind, all she could do was call out, "Be careful!"

As soon as the words left her mouth, she suddenly froze. Something flickered in her mind—a fleeting thought she couldn’t quite grasp.

She murmured Zhou Ziqin’s earlier words to herself: "Taking his own box to swap with Prince Kui’s..."

Abruptly, she leaped to her feet and shouted, "Zhou Ziqin!"

Zhou Ziqin had already stepped outside but, startled by her cry, hurried back in. "What’s wrong?"

"Wait a moment," she said, pulling the hairpin from her bun and beginning to sketch on the table. Zhou Ziqin was utterly baffled but knew this was her habit. He leaned against the doorframe, watching as she scribbled chaotic lines with such a light touch that they barely left a mark on the wood. After a while, still unable to make sense of it, he gave up.

Huang Zixiao tucked the jade pin back into her silver hairpin and stood. "Let’s go."

"Where to?" Zhou Ziqin asked.

"Liang’s Carpentry Workshop. To find Master Sun."

The first month of the year was typically a slow season for carpentry, but Liang’s workshop remained bustling. Several courtyards were piled high with premium timber as craftsmen worked and chatted: "Whose family is behind this grand affair?"

"It’s the Langya Wang family preparing for a wedding—the cousin of the Empress, son of Minister Wang, and Right Commander of the Imperial Guards, Wang Yun. Rumor has it he’s marrying the daughter of former Vice Minister of Justice Huang, who was later transferred to Chengdu as Prefect."

The group nodded in admiration. "Ah, a perfect match, truly made in heaven!"

Zhou Ziqin immediately shot a stunned look at Huang Zixiao.

Huang Zixiao hadn’t expected to stumble upon this topic today. Hearing these men discuss her marriage to Wang Yun stirred indescribable emotions. She turned away, overwhelmed by shame and sorrow.

Zhou Ziqin, ever tactless, leaned in and whispered, "So you’re here to check on your dowry?"

Huang Zixiao’s face flushed crimson. Embarrassed and flustered, she glared at him before turning to enter the workshop in search of Master Sun.

Behind them, the chatter continued: "But usually, the bride’s family prepares the dowry. Why is the Wang family handling it?"

"Alas, the Huang family is left with only a lone daughter. Who would arrange it for her? The Wangs are preparing everything so it can be delivered to the wedding procession outside the city, ensuring she marries into their family with dignity."

"Despite her misfortunes, this Huang girl is truly blessed to have such a family."

Zhou Ziqin silently turned away. Huang Zixiao acted as though she hadn’t heard, walking straight toward Master Sun, who was absorbed in his tools. He quickly caught up to her.

Huang Zixiao’s gaze swept over Master Sun’s workbench, just as it had before. Axes, planes, wood scraps, and sawdust lay in disarray, making it hard to believe the exquisite chests and trays were crafted here.

Master Sun recognized Zhou Ziqin at once and greeted him warmly, "Here again? What’s the job today?"

Zhou Ziqin glanced at Huang Zixiao, who remained silent, and said, "I’m just accompanying her today.""Oh, really?" Master Sun rubbed his hands together with a smile. "Young master, how was that box you bought from me last time? Did it work well?"

"It was fine," Zhou Ziqin replied casually.

"Exactly! My master used to tell me that mastering a craft is like owning a gold and silver mountain. Of course, I dare not dream of becoming as wealthy as he was. I just hope to earn a humble living with the patronage of esteemed customers like yourselves."

Hearing this, Huang Zixiang asked, "Your master was a renowned carpenter in Chang'an, so wealth naturally came his way. But as a craftsman, his work must have been quite demanding, right?"

"Absolutely! He toiled his whole life, mostly on small projects. It wasn’t until three or four years ago that he finally bought over a dozen acres of land and a grand house back in his hometown. He told me he was done—he’d go home and live a peaceful life..." He sighed and shook his head. "But fate had other plans. On his way back, he encountered bandits, and his entire family... ah!"

Zhou Ziqin asked, "What happened to the land and the house?"

"Probably divided among his clansmen. I’m not sure."

Huang Zixiang remarked coolly, "What a pity. A dozen acres of land and a grand house—assets most people could never earn in a lifetime—he suddenly possessed, yet never had the fortune to enjoy."

"Indeed. It must have been his life’s savings... though I never noticed it before." Master Sun then turned to Zhou Ziqin with an ingratiating smile. "How about it, young master? Would you like another one of those boxes?"

"Come on, what would I do with such a troublesome box? It takes forever just to unlock the thing. Only someone with an exceptional memory could handle it smoothly—certainly not me," Zhou Ziqin scoffed.

Huang Zixiang glanced around the room and asked, "Master Sun, do you still have any of your master’s belongings?"

Master Sun shook his head. "He was preparing to leave the capital—he didn’t leave anything behind. He just handed all his tools to me, saying he wouldn’t need them anymore."

Huang Zixiang asked, "May I see those tools?"

"Of course, though some have worn out over the years, and others I’ve discarded..." He led them to the back, crouched down, and opened the toolbox, laying out the contents one by one on the floor.

Huang Zixiang’s gaze swept over the aged carpenter’s square, ink marker, cotton threads, and finally settled on a few lumps of beeswax. "Carpenters use this?"

"Yes, my master did. I found it odd too—especially since it’s old beeswax mixed with sawdust," Master Sun explained. "When I first started as his apprentice, he told me that some carpenters, lacking skill, would poorly fit joints and then fill the gaps with beeswax to deceive customers. At first, the joints would seem sturdy, but soon the wax would loosen, causing the furniture to wobble or even collapse. My master proudly declared that in his thirty years of work, he had never once used beeswax!"

Huang Zixiang lightly prodded the beeswax. After years of storage and in the bitter cold, it had hardened into stiff black lumps, riddled with sawdust and unsightly.Zhou Ziqin remarked from the side, "Seems your master's craftsmanship wasn't quite up to par either. After all these years, it's finally been put to use."

Master Sun flushed with anger and embarrassment. "Nonsense! My master's skills were exceptional, absolutely flawless! Maybe it was used elsewhere!"

"What else could it be used for? With all these wood shavings on it, it's clearly been used on a wooden platform," Zhou Ziqin retorted.

Master Sun's face turned redder, but he couldn't find the words to respond. Huang Zixiao chipped off a small piece of propolis, wrapped it in oiled paper nearby, and stood up, saying, "Thank you, Master Sun. I believe your master, being a renowned carpenter, must have had another purpose for this—certainly not for ordinary use."

"Exactly..." Master Sun muttered resentfully.

Huang Zixiao turned and walked out. Zhou Ziqin followed her and asked, "What are you going to do with that?"

"Nothing much," Huang Zixiao replied calmly. "Perhaps this holds the secret to opening that box."

"What? Propolis can open that box?" Zhou Ziqin exclaimed in surprise.

Huang Zixiao nodded slightly.

Zhou Ziqin trailed behind her as they passed through the courtyard filled with busy carpenters. Seeing her stride ahead without looking back, he hurriedly asked, "Chonggu, tell me, what's really going on here?"

But Huang Zixiao remained silent, walking briskly out of the vast courtyard. Standing in the chilly early spring breeze, she took a deep breath before turning to him. "Ziqin..."

Zhou Ziqin eagerly stepped closer, practically wagging his tail. "Chonggu?"

"Do you remember the case we solved last Mid-Autumn Festival in Shu, involving the konghou musician?"

"Huh? The one where the apprentice Yuli killed her master, Bitao?" He was puzzled, unsure why she suddenly brought up that case from Shu.

Gazing at the clouds on the horizon, she nodded. "At the time, we noticed a fresh scratch on Bitao's hand and concluded something must have been forcibly removed from it, right?"

"Yes, it was that armband gifted by a man, which led to the master and apprentice turning against each other. Such a pity—both women were quite beautiful." Zhou Ziqin's focus inevitably drifted to lamenting the loss of beauty.

"In truth, everything in this world leaves traces if you look hard enough, don't you think?" Huang Zixiao turned to him, the sunlight behind her casting her in silhouette, making her eyes especially bright and her entire figure seem to glow. "For example, whether it's the eighty small copper rods randomly hammered in by a craftsman or the eighty disordered characters casually placed by Prince Kui, as long as someone pays attention, traces can be found. Isn't that so?"

Zhou Ziqin pondered carefully, looking at her with some confusion. "So... you're saying the key is propolis?"

She nodded softly. "Yes. And there's one last thing I need to verify. If it's true, then everything can finally come to an end."

As she spoke, her expression was unreadable—neither sorrowful nor joyful. Yet a faint mist clouded her eyes first.Under the weak winter sunlight, the dust-laden city of Chang'an appeared bleak and gloomy. The leafless trees along the streets stood listlessly, as if the only radiance in the entire world shone upon her face. The determined, unyielding light in her eyes struck Zhou Ziqin as both familiar and strange, stirring in his chest a mix of awe and pity that he couldn't articulate. He could only gaze at her silently and say, "Once it's over... everything will be fine."

He escorted her back, and after bidding farewell, he walked alone through the streets of Chang'an, looking up at the dim, overcast sky.

Suddenly, he realized why Huang Zixiao's gaze had felt so familiar to him.

One winter, he and a group of close friends from the Imperial Guards had gone hunting in the distant outskirts. On the winter plains, they galloped on horseback, driving a herd of deer into an encirclement before shooting them down. The panicked sika deer fell one by one as they ran, unable to escape the fate of being pierced by arrows.

Their circle tightened until only one deer remained, standing amidst the corpses of its companions, its eyes wide as it stared at the approaching riders.

The deer's eyes were clear and bright, appearing especially large under its long, thick lashes, almost mirroring the figures of the archers drawing their bows.

Driven by some inexplicable emotion, Zhou Ziqin slowly lowered his bow and stared blankly at the deer.

Amidst the bodies of its herd, its slender legs and the beautiful four-pronged antlers on its head stood out starkly. A dozen men had their bows drawn taut, all aimed at it.

In the moment before death, it leaped with all its might, vaulting over its fallen companions and sprinting forward. Two arrows grazed its body, leaving streaks of blood on its beautiful fur as it disappeared wounded into the mountain stream, never to be seen again.

Only those eyes remained in Zhou Ziqin's memory.

Just like the eyes he had seen in Huang Zixiao—filled with desperate yet unyielding determination.

For a moment, he felt dazed, as if everything in the world had drifted far away from him, impossible to reach. He could only lean against a tree behind him and stand there quietly for a while.

In his heart, he wondered: Could she, like that deer, make one final desperate leap and break free from the encirclement, running toward her own world?

And that wounded deer that had fled into the mountains—had it ultimately survived?