Chapter 6 : Bloodstained Secrets Behind the Wardrobe

At the next moment, Lin Ting’s gaze fell elsewhere, as if looking at Duan Ling was just an accidental glance without any particular thought.

For some reason, Duan Ling suddenly stopped in his tracks. 

He just looked at her and did not step forward.

Hearing the commotion, Duan Xinning hurried over, bypassed him, and looked at Lin Ting with concern, noticing that her complexion was pale. 

“Are you feeling unwell?”

Lin Ting noticed that many people’s eyes were on her. 

Only then did she realize that her reaction had been too exaggerated, making her stand out too much. 

She leaned over and whispered something into Duan Xinning’s ear.

Duan Xinning’s furrowed brows gradually relaxed, and in the end, she helped Lin Ting sit down on the ground.

She then called for a maid to prepare a bowl of peony and licorice soup. 

Lin Ting, to avoid raising suspicion, made up a small lie and apologized, saying that her leg had cramped, which was why she had suddenly stood up.

Originally, Duan Xinning suggested that Lin Ting leave the banquet to rest in a private room, but Lin Ting insisted on staying.

Out of respect for Lin Ting’s insistence, Duan Xinning misunderstood, thinking that Lin Ting was being considerate of her and didn’t want to dampen the mood of her birthday celebration. 

Unaware of the truth, Duan Xinning was deeply moved by what she perceived as Lin Ting’s thoughtfulness and relented.

Peony and licorice soup can relieve leg cramps. 

Duan Ling had drunk it before when he wasn’t feeling well, so he wanted to give it to her to try. 

He reminded her, “If you feel unwell again, make sure to tell me.”

Lin Ting forced herself to perk up and replied as if nothing had happened, “Alright.”

This incident was nothing more than a minor interlude; it didn’t stir up much trouble or affect the guests’ mood. 

They continued their conversations and laughter, glasses clinking, music playing, and dancers performing—a lively and joyous atmosphere.

Since the matter had been resolved, Duan Ling naturally had no reason to stay any longer. 

He returned to his seat in the men’s section.

His seat happened to be in a gap between several standing screens. 

Whether it was his imagination or not, he kept feeling a certain gaze following his hand movements, carrying an inexplicable meaning.

A long time passed. 

Guests came over to toast and make small talk. 

As Duan Ling raised his cup and drank, that gaze remained. 

It wasn’t particularly intense but lingered subtly, as if somewhat restrained.

Still, he could sense it and even pinpoint its direction.

Taking advantage of the brief moment when a guest left after toasting, he finally lifted his gaze and looked toward the gap between the screens. 

From this angle, there weren’t many people he could see, but there were still five—and Lin Ting was among them.

Duan Ling casually glanced over the other four women before his gaze stopped on Lin Ting’s delicate face.

She was holding the bowl of peony and licorice soup that the maid had brought. 

Her fair skin was slightly reddened by the rising steam. 

Her eyelids drooped as she focused on drinking the soup, not looking around.

Instead, the woman sitting to Lin Ting’s left kept glancing at the screen and discussing with her companion how exquisite the embroidery was—clearly a masterpiece, probably priceless. 

And yet, the Duan family had casually used it as a mere partition.

After finishing the peony and licorice soup that Duan Xinning had prepared for her, Lin Ting started eating.

She never looked at him.

Duan Ling slowly put down his wine cup, turned slightly, and stopped looking in that direction. 

He smoothly handled conversations with the noblemen around him. 

They deliberately brought up political affairs, trying to probe his stance, but he gave away nothing.

Then, Xia Zimo approached with a cup of wine. 

As the heir of his family, he shamelessly pushed others aside without any concern for how rude it was. 

He laughed heartily. 

“Young Master Duan, I toast to you!”

Duan Ling raised his cup with both hands.

The courtyard was filled with red lanterns, casting overlapping shadows. 

His face was as handsome as jade, and his slight smile made him even more striking. 

“It should be me toasting you instead. Thank you for saving my younger sister that day at Nanshan Pavilion.”

Xia Zimo paused for a moment, his smile freezing slightly before he downed his drink in one go. 

Then, in a voice only the two of them could hear, he asked, “Is there really no way to save the Xie family?”

Duan Ling’s expression remained unchanged as he replied, “You know what His Majesty despises.”

Forming factions for personal gain.

That phrase flashed through Xia Zimo’s mind, along with the seemingly kind but deeply distrustful face of the current emperor. 

Everyone in the empire knew that he was inherently suspicious and could not tolerate even the smallest act of disloyalty.

The warm red candlelight illuminated Xia Zimo’s profile, turning it completely red. 

The wine burning down his throat was cold and sharp. 

“When?” When would the emperor make a move against the Xie family?

Their conversation was cryptic, yet both understood each other perfectly.

Duan Ling did not miss the hesitation buried deep in Xia Zimo’s eyes, but he couldn’t understand it. 

He simply provided a precise answer: “In one day.”

Upon hearing the answer, Xia Zimo reverted to his usual carefree, hedonistic noble persona. 

He laughed and toasted Duan Ling a few more times before leaving, as if nothing had happened.

Behind the screen, Lin Ting finished cursing her system’s ancestors for eighteen generations, then fell into deep thought.

After pondering for a moment, she still valued her own life too much to ignore the mission.

She racked her brain for a way to complete it.

Should she… hold Duan Ling’s hand?

This was going to be difficult. 

First of all, Duan Ling was a highly trained Jinyiwei. 

Getting close to him was no easy task. 

If she tried to rush at him with her face covered like last time, she might be killed before even touching him.

So, holding his hand couldn’t be done while concealing her identity. 

That was unrealistic. 

The risk of being mistaken for an assassin and getting killed was too high—it wasn’t worth it.

How could she make it look like an accidental touch? 

Lin Ting’s thoughts froze at this point.

She looked up at the gap between the screens, searching for Duan Ling’s figure. 

The seat where he had been sitting not long ago was now empty—she had no idea where he had gone.

Oh well, no rush.

Duan Ling was a man of extraordinary intelligence, almost bordering on the supernatural. 

She had to plan carefully before making a move. 

Acting recklessly would only lead to mistakes, and if she made him wary, it would be even harder to succeed. 

That wasn’t worth it.

Besides, she had another urgent job to complete—a missing person case that needed to be solved within three days. 

Time was tight, and there was no room for delay. 

This task was just as important to Lin Ting.

As the banquet neared its end, Lin Ting used fatigue as an excuse to say her goodbyes to Duan Xinning.

Leaving the Duan estate, she got into her carriage and skillfully changed clothes inside. 

Once done, she lifted the curtain and looked outside, waiting for the carriage to pass by a quiet, inconspicuous alley before getting out.

It wasn’t curfew yet, so the streets were still lively, illuminated by countless lanterns. 

The city buzzed with activity—vendors shouting their wares, people coming and going, hawkers carrying a variety of goods through the streets.

She found a secluded spot and pulled out a small portrait that she had already examined several times.

The man in the drawing had a long, thin face, upright brows that exuded righteousness, a tiny mole at the corner of his eye, a hooked nose, a relatively long philtrum, and thick lips.

At the bottom of the paper, neat handwriting read:

Fu Chi, from Linze, Yangzhou. 

Twenty-six years old. 

Traveled to the capital to take the imperial examination in the seventh year of the Mingyuan era. 

Failed the exam and temporarily stayed at Wenchu Academy. 

Disappeared in the eighth year of Mingyuan.

Lin Ting put away the portrait and turned into a small, abandoned courtyard at the end of the alley.

As a young lady from the Lin family, she couldn’t openly visit such places during the day. 

She had no choice but to come at night. 

Before taking action tonight, she had investigated Fu Chi.

Someone had seen him come here alone before he vanished without a trace.

The courtyard gate wasn’t locked, so Lin Ting entered effortlessly—only to be greeted by a face full of dust. 

She frowned as she looked at the cobweb-covered beams and pillars, noticing a large spider resting in the middle of an enormous web.

Dark clouds covered the sky, dimming the moonlight. 

A cold night breeze swept through the air, making Lin Ting lighten her steps.

The walls had been eroded by years of wind and rain, leaving behind mottled cracks. 

Scattered furniture around the courtyard emitted a musty, rotten smell. 

A fallen lantern on the ground swayed in the wind, producing an eerie scraping sound.

Listening to these noises, Lin Ting wished she could drag that boy who had gone off to Suzhou back here. 

Even though she had learned a few moves from him and carried poisons he had given her, she was still far from being competent at tracking people.

But since she was already here, backing out now wasn’t her style.

She silently prayed to the gods of fortune to bless her with success in finding Fu Chi’s whereabouts, leaving this place safely, and receiving her payment without trouble.

Summoning her courage, Lin Ting entered the room closest to the main gate. 

She searched it thoroughly but found nothing. 

She checked two more rooms and still came up empty-handed—there were no hidden chambers or secret passageways either.

Just as she was about to leave, before she could even step out of the doorway, a man suddenly stumbled in.

Lin Ting quickly found a place to hide.

She slipped into a wardrobe in the corner, pressing against the door. 

However, her hand was unexpectedly scratched by something inside. 

Upon closer inspection, she noticed words carved into the inner side of the wardrobe door:

“His Highness is still alive.”

His Highness is still alive?

Which Highness?

Judging by the depth of the engraving and the handwriting, it was definitely not done by a child but by an adult man.

In a rush, Lin Ting sprinkled some of the medicinal powder she carried onto the inner side of the wardrobe door. 

Then she took out a handkerchief and pressed it firmly against the inscription, capturing the imprint of the carved words. 

She carefully folded it and tucked it into her sleeve.

With a loud “clang”, the man who had run inside seemed to have knocked something over. 

He was also looking for a place to hide, and by sheer misfortune, he ended up in the same room where Lin Ting was concealed. 

His heavy breathing grew closer and closer.

Inside the wardrobe, Lin Ting prayed desperately: Don’t come here, don’t come here!

But it seemed heaven misheard her, taking “don’t come here” as “come here immediately.”

The wardrobe door was yanked open. 

A faint sliver of moonlight crept in through the window, barely illuminating Lin Ting—just enough to expose her.

The man froze.

At the same time, a wave of footsteps echoed from outside.

There was no time for him to find another hiding place. 

Without hesitation, he lifted his leg and climbed into the wardrobe, pulling the small doors shut behind him. 

With a dagger in hand, he pointed it at Lin Ting, signaling for her to stay silent. 

The cramped space barely accommodated the two of them.

Lin Ting had faced threats before. 

Though she cursed her luck internally, she remained outwardly compliant. 

However, her hand had already moved to her waist, where her poisons were hidden in her sash—some lethal, others merely causing unconsciousness.

She preferred using the latter.

With a “bang”, the door to the room was violently kicked open. 

Several tall shadows spilled into the room.

The man’s entire body tensed.

Through the narrow slits in the wardrobe, Lin Ting caught sight of Duan Ling.

When on duty, he wore his official uniform—the crimson Feiyu robe—which stood out vividly in the darkness. 

His narrow waist and long legs made him particularly striking, even among the other Jinyiwei officers.

His expression was relaxed, as if he wasn’t here to make an arrest but rather to admire the night scenery.

So Duan Ling had disappeared from the banquet midway because the Jinyiwei had a mission?

There was no time for her to dwell on the thought.

Duan Ling gave a brief command, and the Jinyiwei immediately began ransacking the room, overturning cabinets and searching thoroughly.

At this rate, it was only a matter of time before they checked the wardrobe. 

The man beside Lin Ting knew that the Jinyiwei wouldn’t spare a commoner’s life during an operation, so he had no intention of taking her hostage to escape.

He held his breath, released her, and prepared to make a desperate break for it.

Just as his hand touched the wardrobe door—

A Xiuchun Blade pierced straight through the half-inch-thick wooden panel, slicing through the air with a cold gust. 

The blade tip reflected in Lin Ting’s wide eyes before plunging directly into the man’s skull.

Blood gushed out.

Warm, fresh blood splattered onto her face.

The thick scent of iron nearly drowned Lin Ting. 

A single drop of blood trailed down her eyelashes before falling.

Her heartbeat thundered in her chest.

Outside the wardrobe, Duan Ling lowered his hand. 

He didn’t rush to open the door. 

Instead, he leisurely bent down, swiping a finger through the blood that had trickled out.

Then, he curled his lips into a smile.

His gaze, piercing through the narrow slit in the wardrobe, locked onto Lin Ting’s blood-streaked face inside.