Chapter 8 : Eyes of the Fallen

Soon, curfew would begin, and the streets grew quieter. 

The lanterns on the street gradually went out, leaving the surroundings dim and shadowy. 

In the fleeting moment, two figures seemed to merge.

Lin Ting held a paper bag containing candied hawthorn skewers in one hand and grabbed Duan Ling’s hand from behind with the other. 

Her thumb pressed on his hand, fingers slipping between his palm, touching his skin, which was devoid of warmth.

The “task complete” notification chimed in her ear.

Before Duan Ling could push her away, Lin Ting loosened her grip, looking as though there was more she wanted to say, wanting him to stop. 

In a moment of excitement, she had reached out: 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

Duan Ling lowered the hand she had taken, and his loose sleeves covered the slightly reddened skin.

Lin Ting had gripped him tightly, worried the task might not succeed. 

Duan Ling, who had lived in the shadowy Zhao Prison for years, had pale, fragile skin, and her strong grip left red marks on his skin as if it had been mistreated.

The surroundings were dark, and Lin Ting was preoccupied with the task, so she didn’t notice his hand had turned red from her touch, nor did she consider it.

She was already prepared to leave, her mission accomplished.

Duan Ling stroked the palm she had touched, his expression briefly betraying a hint of rejection. 

But when he looked at her, his demeanor remained as approachable as always: “Is there something else you want to say?”

Lin Ting took a few steps to the right, pointing ahead: 

“You can leave me here. I’ll walk back along this street. You are a Commander of the Imperial Guards; your official duties at the Northern Justice Department are more important.”

He didn’t insist on walking her back to the Lin residence: 

“As you wish, Miss Lin.”

Putting aside other matters, Lin Ting was grateful that Duan Ling had agreed to escort her back tonight. 

Out of courtesy, she allowed him to leave first, watching him walk away before she left without a second thought.

Because Lin Ting didn’t look back, she didn’t notice Duan Ling glancing back at her midway. 

He saw her jogging toward the Lin residence, the candied hawthorn skewer swinging in her hand.

The “troubled fate” of the candied hawthorn skewers almost flew out of Lin Ting’s hand several times.

Lin Ting passed the gate of the Lin residence without entering. 

She stealthily covered her mouth and nose with her sleeve, quickly heading toward the side gate, moving with practiced ease.

The Lin family had a curfew rule. 

The city’s curfew began at 7:45 PM, and the main gate of the Lin residence locked at 7:00 PM. 

Apart from the family’s officials, no one else was allowed in or out.

But Tao Zhu would secretly loosen the small lock on the side gate when no one was around, leaving the door open for her.

Sure enough, the side gate opened as soon as she pushed it. 

Lin Ting first peeked inside to check if anyone was around, then stepped in quietly, gently closing the gate behind her. 

She pulled the chain hanging on the handle and locked it again.

Back in the Tingling Courtyard, she rushed to her room: 

“Tao Zhu, I bought you candied hawthorn on the way back. It smells sweet, should be delicious, and I know you like it…”

Her voice abruptly stopped.

In the room, it wasn’t just Tao Zhu, but also Lin Ting’s half-sister, Lin Shu. 

She was originally sitting, but stood up as soon as she saw Lin Ting, speaking softly: 

“Seventh Sister, you’re back.”

Lin Ting’s gaze swept over Lin Shu.

She always followed the Lin family rules and rarely went out. 

Tonight, her makeup wasn’t heavy, but it was clear she had put effort into her appearance—her nose delicate, lips crimson, eyes like autumn water, and her cheeks lightly flushed.

Tao Zhu gave Lin Ting a meaningful glance, signaling that Lin Shu had been there for quite a while.

Lin Ting raised an eyebrow, handed the candied hawthorn skewers to Tao Zhu, pulled over a chair, and casually waved: 

“Eighth Sister, don’t stand on ceremony. Sit down.”

Lin Shu sat down again, pouring Lin Ting a cup of tea: 

“Why did you come back so late? Father and Stepmother will worry if they find out.”

“If I don’t say it, and you don’t say it, they won’t know, right?”

“Seventh Sister, you’re right.” 

Lin Shu understood Lin Ting’s implication, and her words were full of deference to her Seventh Sister.

Lin Ting didn’t beat around the bush: 

“What’s the matter? Why are you looking for me?”

Suddenly, Lin Shu kneeled, grabbing her hand, her eyes quickly filling with tears. 

In a muffled voice, she said: 

“Seventh Sister, please help me.”

Tao Zhu immediately stepped forward to help her up: 

“You mustn’t, Eighth Miss, please get up. Qiu Lian, why aren’t you helping your young miss?”

But to her surprise, Qiu Lian also knelt down: 

“Please, Seventh Miss, help our young miss.”

Lin Ting, who had little interaction with Lin Shu because of her mother Li Shi and Concubine Shen, felt a bit helpless when Lin Shu suddenly knelt before her: 

“Get up first, and then tell me what you need help with.”

Lin Shu seemed to be thinking about something and started crying uncontrollably, while Qiu Lian spoke on her behalf: 

“The Eighth Miss doesn’t want to marry the son of the Minister of Revenue.”

The son of the Minister of Revenue was unlearned and lazy, a typical spoiled and wayward young man.

Concubine Shen, however, argued that all men were likely to be flirtatious at a young age, indulging in pleasures of the world. 

It could be forgiven, and after marriage, they would usually become more stable and focused on family.

In reality, Concubine Shen was mainly interested in his status as the son of the Minister of Revenue and had insisted on arranging the marriage for Lin Shu.

Lin Ting quietly listened as Qiu Lian explained the situation, not interrupting.

Lin Shu, unsure of Lin Ting’s feelings, sniffled, her eyes swollen from crying: 

“Seventh Sister, I know this is an unreasonable request, but I have no other choice. I can only come to you for help.”

“Eighth Sister, it’s not that I don’t want to help you. Your marriage is not something I can interfere with. If Concubine Shen finds out, she will surely create a scene in front of Father and blame me for meddling in your good match.”

Upon hearing this, Lin Shu let her hands fall helplessly: 

“I understand.”

Lin Shu probably realized that continuing to ask wouldn’t yield a good result. 

With her heart in despair, she stood up, dazed, and was supported by Qiu Lian as she left.

Lin Ting looked at Lin Shu’s thin figure and remembered when Lin Shu had tried to approach her as a child, but was pulled away by Concubine Shen. 

Since then, the two sisters had hardly interacted.

She thought to herself: 

“Eighth Sister, do you really dare to defy Concubine Shen?”

Just as the thought crossed her mind, a faint fragrance brushed her face. 

It was Lin Shu returning, and she took Lin Ting’s hand again: 

“Seventh Sister, you don’t know, but I’ve already given my heart to someone.”

“You’ve already given your heart to someone?” 

Lin Ting was surprised. 

Lin Shu, who usually never left the house, was now saying she had someone she cared about.

Lin Ting could guess that the person’s family background was likely not as prestigious as the Lin family’s: 

“Which family’s son?”

Lin Shu felt a bit embarrassed.

But seeing that Lin Ting might be willing to help, she decided to tell the truth: 

“He came from a small place and came to Beijing to take the imperial examination. After failing last year, he stayed at Wenchu Academy to study.”

Afraid that Lin Ting might think this person lacked true talent, Lin Shu hurriedly added: 

“He failed last year because of poor health.”

Wenchu Academy?

Lin Ting instinctively touched the small portrait in her sleeve. 

Fu Chi was also a student of Wenchu Academy, so perhaps there were some clues there.

She took Qiu Lian’s handkerchief and gently wiped the tears from Lin Shu’s face: 

“Eighth Sister, I’ll consider this matter carefully. You should go back now.”

“Thank you for your trouble, Seventh Sister.”

After sending Lin Shu away, Lin Ting sat on her bed, lost in thought. 

Tao Zhu stepped in to prepare the bedding, but paused when she saw Lin Ting’s changed clothes: 

“Why did you change your dress?”

Lin Ting casually lied: 

“It got dirty while I was out, so I just bought a new one.”

Tao Zhu looked at her for a long time, then changed the subject: 

“Why did you agree to help the Eighth Miss? You know very well what kind of person Concubine Shen is. If this causes trouble in the future, you will…”

Lin Ting raised a hand to signal for a pause: 

“Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”

“Since when has your heart become so soft? If this were before, you would have kicked them out of Tingling Courtyard immediately. I really can’t understand you anymore,” Tao Zhu grumbled as she went off to prepare Lin Ting’s bath.

Lin Ting didn’t mind Tao Zhu’s attitude. 

She spread out the small portrait and stared at the face of the man named Fu Chi. 

A strange, uneasy feeling stirred within her.

***

Duan Ling didn’t go to the Northern Justice Department. 

Instead, he returned to the Duan family. 

After greeting his parents, he went back to his study.

The servant had prepared water for washing his hands in the study. 

Duan Ling had the habit of washing his hands before reading or writing, so they would always prepare it in advance for his return.

Duan Ling walked over to the wooden stand holding the basin of water. 

He gazed at his reflection in the water and reached in, stirring the water. 

The ripples formed, splitting the overly handsome face in the reflection.

The water flowed over his hand, bringing a cool sensation.

The marks left on his hand by Lin Ting’s grip had faded, though Duan Ling didn’t notice when they had disappeared. 

He examined his hand for a moment before pulling it from the water and using the handkerchief placed nearby to wipe off the remaining drops.

On the west side of the study, there was a row of bookshelves, each one taller than a person, filled with books Duan Ling had read.

He walked over, took a book from the corner of the lowest shelf, and as soon as the book was removed, the bookshelf slowly slid open, revealing another hidden bookshelf behind it.

This hidden shelf didn’t contain books, but instead, it held numerous transparent glass jars, each filled with liquid, in which two eyeballs floated.

Every time Duan Ling killed someone in the Zhao Prison, he would take their eyes and bring them back with him.

There’s a saying that the eyes can speak, and so can the eyes of the dead. 

Duan Ling raised his hand and brushed over several of the glass jars. 

The bloodstains clung to the thin membrane of the eyeballs, the white mixed with red.

There were hundreds of glass jars on the bookshelf, each containing a pair of eyes. 

They seemed to be watching him. 

Duan Ling stared back at them, with no trace of fear, even feeling an inexplicable sense of pleasure.