As daylight broke, Chu'he struggled out of the blankets and dragged the still-sleepy Ninth out of bed.
"Hurry up and wash up. After breakfast, we need to keep moving!"
Ninth was reluctantly pulled up, his long hair a tangled mess, sticking out in all directions like a disheveled cat. His bleary eyes showed he was far from rested.
Chu'he ignored him, already seated before a bronze mirror, combing her hair. Usually, her maids would style it for her, but now she could only manage two small buns atop her head, resembling delicate spring buds—playful and charming.
As she adorned her hair with a white velvet flower, she noticed a figure behind her in the mirror. She glanced back. "Hurry up and get ready. I won’t wait forever—I’m hungry and heading down for breakfast."
She turned back to the mirror, adjusting the flower for the perfect angle.
Ninth stood silently behind her, hair loose and wild, like a ghostly shadow.
Her bustling energy was noisy for the early morning.
Yet, strangely, her nagging felt different from the usual clamor urging him to train.
Dazed, the boy reached out, poking at the soft white flower nestled in her dark hair. The fluffy texture fascinated him, and he tapped it repeatedly, as if discovering a delightful game.
Chu'he’s eyelid twitched.
If not for knowing she couldn’t beat him, she would’ve smacked his hand away!
Thanks to Ninth’s dawdling, they left half an hour late.
To avoid unwanted attention, Chu'he had the innkeeper fetch her a veiled hat to conceal her face. With rumors of missing young women in the city, staying hidden was safer.
The dining area was crowded.
While settling their bill, Chu'he overheard hushed conversations.
"I saw it with my own eyes—in the alley east of town. The body was horrifying!"
"Flesh melted away, leaving only bones."
"Doctor Zhang said it was a man’s skeleton."
"Right beside it was a purple flower—must be the legendary ghost flower."
"They say every missing woman’s room had one, stealing souls. But why would it target a man?"
"Who knows? Maybe it’s switched from women to men now?"
The speculation sent a chill through the male patrons.
Ninth ignored the chatter, leaning against the wall, lazily twisting a braided strand of his white hair. Suddenly, a veiled hat was placed on his head.
The sheer white fabric swayed, blurring the light.
As his vision softened, the girl’s face leaned in.
"Ninth is too pretty—better be careful."
His fingers brushed the veil, drawing it closed over his face.
He lowered his head slightly, peering through the gauze toward her. The faint reddening of his ears, hidden beneath white locks, went unnoticed.
Another group entered the inn.
Leading them was a scholarly young man in ink-stained robes, his black hair ribbon fluttering in the breeze. Handsome and refined, he carried an air of quiet intellect.
Boss Li hurried over.
"Master Song, what brings you here?"
He smiled. "Boss Li, I’m looking for someone."
Song Tingxue’s gaze immediately landed on Chu'he and Ninth—few women dared to venture out these days, and Ninth’s foreign attire made him impossible to miss.
"Sir, miss, pardon the interruption." Song Tingxue approached with a polite bow. "I am Song Tingxue, a tutor in this city. I’ve come to ask for your help."
Chu'he was puzzled. Why would a stranger seek them out?
Ninth showed no interest, abandoning his hair to twirl a strand of Chu'he’s black locks around his finger, silent and docile, as if part of the scenery.
"Why us?" Chu'he asked.
"It’s a private matter. Not suited for public discussion." Song Tingxue gestured gracefully. "I’ve reserved a table at Zuìyún Tower—fine wine and dishes, my treat. Would you honor me with your company?"
Chu'he glanced up. "Ninth, free food?"
For their tight budget, it was a godsend.
Reading her eagerness, Ninth gave a slow nod.
Zuìyún Tower was the city’s finest. Song Tingxue had spared no expense—private room, top-tier dishes and wine.
After pleasantries, he cut to the chase. "Since you’re staying in Xiaocheng, you must’ve heard of the missing women. They vanish without a trace—gone by morning, with only this left behind."
He opened a wooden box. Inside bloomed a vibrant purple flower, defiantly radiant even as spring faded.
"I’ve heard it called the ghost flower," Chu'he remarked, then frowned.
Ninth paused mid-bite, a bone between his teeth.
Without the veil, his striking features looked unnaturally pale, carrying an eerie air.
Song Tingxue sensed Ninth wasn’t ordinary and tread carefully.
Chu'he, however, had no reservations. She glared, and Ninth blinked, spitting out the bone.
She piled his bowl high with meatballs.
He lifted it, shoveling them all into his mouth.
Song Tingxue assessed their dynamic—convince Chu'he, and the foreign youth would follow.
He addressed her. "The flower’s true name is unknown. Fear named it ‘ghost flower.’ The first case was a carpenter’s daughter in the east district. Then more vanished."
His expression darkened. "But few know it began at the Zhao residence."
Chu'he raised a brow. "The Zhao residence?"
Song Tingxue nodded. "My wife’s family home. When the flower appeared, her younger sister—my sister-in-law—disappeared."
Ninth pushed his rice bowl toward Chu'he.
Chu'he didn’t move. "I heard from the inn’s patrons that the Zhao family is a wealthy merchant household in the city."
Song Tingxue nodded. "My sister-in-law has yet to marry. To protect her reputation, we had no choice but to suppress this news."
"Then why are you telling us now?"
Song Tingxue replied, "I’d like to ask for your help."
Someone tugged at Chu'he’s sleeve—once, then again. She had no intention of humoring it, but the persistence was irritating.
With an air of indifference, she scooped a spoonful of spicy ginger stew into his bowl, pushed it back, and asked, "Why would you seek our help, Mr. Song?"
Song Tingxue said, "You possess an otherworldly grace, miss. I imagine your arrival in the city would draw countless eyes. I suspect yesterday’s ghost flower was meant for you, though by some mishap, the victim turned out to be that unidentified male corpse."
His probing gaze shifted to the figure beside Chu'he.
The white-haired youth was utterly guileless, pure as untouched snow. He picked up the bowl Chu'he had returned and unthinkingly shoveled the entire contents of the ginger stew into his mouth.
The next instant, his body stiffened, a sheen of sweat breaking out across his forehead.
"Chu'he… the food is poisoned."
Ninth’s pale skin flushed faintly pink, his eyes growing damp, lashes glistening with unshed tears. The sight was more pitiable than springtime dew clinging to crabapple blossoms.
Realizing what she’d fed him, Chu'he hastily poured a cup of tea and pressed it into his hands. "Drink this—it’ll neutralize the poison!"
One cup wasn’t enough; Ninth gulped down another.
Chu'he felt a twinge of guilt, fearing retribution later. Flustered, she grabbed a handkerchief to dab the sweat from his face, her manner almost ingratiating.
One of Song Tingxue’s attendants couldn’t resist muttering, "Young Master, are these two… reliable?"
Song Tingxue closed his eyes and sighed. "At this point, we have no other options."
