Ninth was kicked out of the room. Even though he didn’t understand why, he rubbed his empty stomach and slowly walked out of the courtyard.
Old He ran into the future son-in-law and quickly asked, "Young master, you haven’t eaten yet, have you? You must be hungry. What would you like to eat?"
Ninth didn’t hold back. "Candied cherry curd, sweet soup, Dongpo pork, sweet and sour carp, honey-glazed duck..."
He listed one dish after another without stopping, all of them rich and cloying.
Old He wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. "Alright, young master, I’ll have someone prepare it right away!"
Before Ninth could finish, Old He had already scurried off. How rude, Ninth thought, but since the man had called him "young master," he decided to be magnanimous and let it slide.
"Well, well, it’s already noon. You’re up so early—we’ve already finished lunch, and you’re just coming out for a snack."
Under the shade of a tree, Chu Sheng lounged leisurely on a stone stool, legs crossed. A maid fanned him while he held half a chilled watermelon in his hands, scooping out bites and spitting out seeds.
Ninth pretended not to notice Chu Sheng’s sarcasm. He walked over and obediently called out, "Father."
Chu Sheng lifted his chin haughtily, neither acknowledging nor scolding him for the address as he usually did.
Ninth’s eyes sparkled. "What are you eating?"
Chu’he finally finished dressing up and stepped out of her room, immediately hit by a wave of scorching heat.
Midday was the hottest time.
Coincidentally, she ran into Fang Songhe on the path. "Brother Fang!"
Fang Songhe had been speaking with Song Chunming. Hearing her, he turned and smiled. "Sister-in-law."
Song Chunming also turned. Seeing the radiant young woman approach, the jingling of her anklet bells momentarily dazed him.
Chu’he stopped in front of Fang Songhe, slightly embarrassed. "Brother Fang, I’m still not used to you calling me that."
Fang Songhe chuckled. "Then I’ll call you that more often until you get used to it."
Chu’he laughed and didn’t bother greeting Song Chunming. Instead, she asked, "Did you two come out for something?"
Fang Songhe replied, "There’s something I’d like to ask Master Chu about."
As they walked and talked, a series of loud "ptui, ptui, ptui" noises caught their attention.
"Ha! See that? Mine went farther!"
"No, mine did!"
"You’re lying! Clearly, mine went the farthest. Are you blind at such a young age?"
"You’re the blind one. The farthest seed was mine!"
The two bickering voices were all too familiar.
Chu’he followed the sound and walked past a grapevine-covered trellis. On the steps ahead sat two figures.
A middle-aged man in luxurious robes and a red-clad, white-haired youth each held half a watermelon, glaring at each other, neither willing to back down.
The ground before them was littered with black watermelon seeds.
Chu’he was speechless for a moment. "Are you two seriously this bored?"
Chu Sheng’s face flushed with embarrassment, and he quickly hid the watermelon behind his back.
Ninth, however, hugged his half and ran over. "Chu’he!"
Noticing Fang Songhe and Song Chunming standing nearby, Ninth subtly nudged closer until he was pressed against Chu’he.
Fang Songhe didn’t react, but Song Chunming nearly stumbled from the shove. Annoyed, he looked up and met Ninth’s crimson eyes. For some reason, his ribs began to ache faintly again.
Ninth scooped out the best piece of watermelon and stuffed it into Chu’he’s mouth. She nearly choked but managed to swallow. Ninth then considerately wiped her lips with a handkerchief.
The handkerchief looked familiar.
Fang Songhe patted his chest—sure enough, his was missing. He had no idea how Ninth had taken it, but the boy certainly had no qualms about using it.
Chu’he mumbled through her full mouth, "Father, Brother Fang has something to ask you."
Chu Sheng sat at the stone table and gestured for the others to join him. "What did you want to ask, Brother Fang?"
Fang Songhe said, "Last night in the dungeon, when they mentioned the Cang family, I noticed your expression changed. If I’m not mistaken, Master Chu, do you know something about the truth behind the Cang family’s massacre fifteen years ago?"
Chu Sheng wasn’t surprised by the question. In fact, officials had come asking the same thing earlier that morning.
But he had no desire to dredge up the past. Still, seeing Fang Songhe’s earnest expression, he hesitated before finally speaking.
"In the past, the Cang family and I had business dealings. We weren’t close friends, but we were on good terms. Cang Huaiyuan was a decent man—honest and fair in business. Originally from the Feng Family Fort beyond the frontier, he traveled far and wide because his wife was gravely ill. He sought both trade and rumors of a miraculous artifact said to regenerate flesh and bone."
"Regenerate flesh and bone?" Fang Songhe frowned. "What strange illness did Madam Cang have?"
"A rare condition that slowly softens the body’s flesh and bones. At its worst, the victim becomes boneless, lying limp in bed until death leaves nothing but a sack of skin."
Chu’he, now fed several more bites of watermelon by Ninth, pushed away his persistent spoon. "What kind of illness is that? I’ve never heard of it."
Fang Songhe murmured, "Is it truly an illness?"
Chu’he glanced at Ninth.
Ninth, busy scraping the last bits from his nearly empty watermelon, noticed her curious gaze. He licked his spoon and asked, "Did this Madam Cang have a peculiar fragrance?"
Chu Sheng nodded. "Yes, she carried a strange, enchanting scent."
Ninth’s eyes curved into crescents as he smiled. "Bone-Melting Incense—a rare and precious gu poison. And what’s more..."
He trailed off, returning to his watermelon excavation.
Everyone’s curiosity was piqued—they couldn’t let him stop halfway!
Chu’he snatched the hollowed-out watermelon shell from him and called to a maid, "Bring the young master another watermelon—a big one!"
The maid scurried off.
Ninth straightened up, cleared his throat, and continued, "And the method to cure it is unusual, though not difficult. All it requires is a blood exchange with a close relative. The poison will then be lifted."
Chu’he asked, "What happens to the person who gives the blood?"
"They die, of course."
Chu Sheng suddenly understood. "So that’s why Madam Cang was desperate to send her children away—she wanted to protect them."
No one knew what Cang Huaiyuan had been thinking back then. Perhaps he couldn’t bear to make that choice, which was why he had searched so desperately for a cure.
Fang Songhe’s brows furrowed. "It’s said the Cang family was massacred because of the Jade Crystal Puppet Thread."
A new watermelon arrived, even larger than the half Chu Sheng had given Ninth earlier.
Chu’he handed him a spoon. Ninth scooped out the center and offered the first bite to her before taking the second for himself.
Eyes closed in contentment, he said lazily, "The Jade Crystal Puppet Thread is far more sensitive than ordinary puppet strings. It can even make a boneless person stand again."
Fang Songhe said, "Yet the moment the Cang family obtained this treasure, they were wiped out."
Chu'he ventured a bold guess, "The one who poisoned Madam Cang did so to force the Cang family to search for this treasure on their behalf!"
Song Chunming snorted coldly, "The Miao people—truly cunning and ruthless."
Ninth lifted her gaze slightly, "Father, is this my home?"
Chu Sheng's expression darkened. "Of course it is!"
Ninth smirked. "You’re a guest in my house, yet you have the nerve to sneer and call me cunning and ruthless. Song, you’ve got less shame than Ah Huang."
Who was Ah Huang?
From the backyard came the sudden sound of a dog barking.
The gatekeeper shouted, "Ah Huang! How many times do I have to tell you—stop eating shit!"
Song Chunming’s face turned stormy.
