Chu'he had heard of Fang Songhe's name before but had never met him, let alone interacted with him.
"I came to Xiaocheng searching for clues about my junior brother. Hearing about the frequent disappearances of young women here, I suspected foul play and stayed for several days to investigate the culprit behind these cases."
Fang Songhe's sword had already been sheathed, but the blade still trembled faintly.
His scrutinizing gaze lingered on Ninth several times.
Fang Songhe's sword was named "Follow the Heart," a treasured blade gifted by his sect, capable of sensing evil spirits and reacting to them.
Along the way, Follow the Heart had reacted to others before, but with Ninth, its response was particularly intense.
The people of Miaojiang were well-versed in poisons and dark arts, often blurring the line between witchcraft and malevolent spirits, so Follow the Heart's reaction wasn't surprising.
More importantly, the Miaojiang youth before him exuded a calm aura, showing no trace of bloodlust. Yet when he had struck earlier, the overwhelming killing intent that surged forth was unmistakable.
It was clear Fang Songhe was wary of Ninth.
"Might I ask your names?"
Ninth played with his braid, refusing to answer.
An awkward silence fell.
Chu'he quickly spoke up, "His name is Ninth."
Fang Songhe asked, "And you, miss?"
Chu'he had heard the male lead mention his senior brother, but she wasn’t sure if Fang Songhe knew of her.
If their status as once-engaged came to light, and Ninth found out she had deceived him, he’d probably feed her to the most terrifying venomous insect!
Chu'he broke out in a cold sweat.
She kept glancing nervously at Ninth, her timid demeanor hardly inspiring confidence.
Ninth, noticing her stares, bent down and leaned in. "Chu—mmph."
His mouth was abruptly covered.
"My name is A'he!" Chu'he clamped both hands over Ninth's mouth, forcing a smile at Fang Songhe. "You can call me A'he, Master Fang."
Fang Songhe, not wishing to offend, nodded. "Miss A'he."
Suddenly, Chu'he felt a sharp pain in her hand and yanked it back, finding a bite mark. She glared furiously at Ninth.
Ninth licked the corner of his lips, glanced at her, then looked away, ignoring her.
Fang Songhe studied the two before asking, "Are you guests of the Zhao residence?"
"We were hired by the Zhao family to investigate the disappearances," Chu'he replied, wiping her hand roughly on Ninth's sleeve before continuing. "Master Fang, have you uncovered any leads?"
"I have some findings." Fang Songhe didn’t hold back, speaking openly. "I visited every location where a woman went missing. The only commonality is that they were all young and beautiful—nothing else connects them. However, at each scene, I found traces of the same person lurking nearby."
Chu'he immediately interjected, "Was it a tall man with disheveled hair?"
Fang Songhe nodded. "You’ve seen him?"
"Not long ago, I spotted a terrifying shadow like that outside my window. At the time, I thought it was a ghost!"
Fang Songhe frowned slightly. "I was tracking his trail when I arrived at the Zhao residence, but he’s exceptionally skilled at hiding. And just now… due to a misunderstanding with Ninth, I lost his trail. If he truly is the mastermind behind these cases and another woman goes missing, I’ll bear the blame."
In the original story, Fang Songhe was the epitome of righteousness—so much so that it bordered on obsession.
Later in the plot, when he realized he had fallen for the female lead, he dared not confess, even sacrificing himself to protect the love between the main couple.
As fellow ill-fated side characters, Chu'he felt a kinship with him.
She said admiringly, "Master Fang, pursuing the culprit behind these disappearances alone for the sake of the people’s safety is already the height of heroism. Your righteousness and courage are truly admirable. You’ve done your best—there’s no need to be so hard on yourself."
An untimely scoff came from beside her.
Chu'he turned her head. "What’s wrong, Ninth? Got something to say?"
Ninth lifted his arm, where a small green snake coiled lazily. He idly poked its head and remarked airily, "What’s so impressive about failing to catch someone?"
Fang Songhe, mild-tempered and patient, didn’t take offense. Instead, he reflected earnestly. "I was careless."
Ninth exhaled sharply through his nose, letting out a quiet humph.
Chu'he grabbed his arm and shook it. "Ninth, do you have a way to track him?"
Ninth stayed silent, turning away and refusing to look at her.
What childish tantrum was this now?
For the sake of the mission, Chu'he told herself to endure. Clutching his arm, she widened her eyes, putting on an exaggerated display of admiration.
"Oh, brilliant, kind-hearted, polite, talented, and ingenious Ninth—the most amazing of them all—you must have a way to track that man, right?"
Ninth’s expression shifted slightly, finally deigning to glance at her.
The little green snake slithered from Ninth’s arm onto Chu'he’s shoulder, settling there quietly.
Chu'he blinked.
The snake blinked back.
In that brief moment, the two seemed to form an alliance, working together to act cute and coax the "heartless" Ninth into softening.
Ninth pressed his lips together, his voice gruff. "Annoying."
Despite his words, he extended his hand. A small black insect fluttered its wings, hovering midair as if sniffing for a scent. Soon, it caught a trail and darted off without hesitation.
Ninth took a step forward, glancing down at Chu'he, who still clung to his arm like deadweight. "Let go."
Chu'he obediently released him with an "Oh," then took a step toward Fang Songhe. "Master Fang, you should come too."
Fang Songhe followed behind.
He asked Chu'he, "Can Ninth’s insect really track that man?"
"Absolutely! Ninth’s venomous insects are incredible."
The little green snake on Chu'he’s shoulder raised its head proudly, as if in agreement.
Up ahead, Ninth turned back. "Come here."
Chu'he sighed and trotted over. "What now, young master?"
Ninth’s jade-like face flushed faintly pink. His ruby eyes gleamed under the moonlight as he muttered, voice tinged with awkwardness,
"I’m not yours."
Chu'he’s eyes widened slightly, amused and intrigued by his reaction.
Ninth turned his face away. "Don’t bring him along."
Chu'he glanced back at the elegant Fang Songhe and whispered, "But he seems capable too. Fine, fine—of course he’s nowhere near as amazing as you. But we might run into danger later. Let him take the lead while we reap the rewards."
Chu'he continued, "Ninth, you mustn’t get hurt. If you do, it’ll be your body bearing the wound, but my heart enduring the pain. I’ll feel awful, heartbroken, even—"
"Unable to breathe."
Chu'he’s voice faltered—he’d actually stolen her line.
She peeked at him.
But the white-haired boy had already stepped ahead, denying her the chance to glimpse his expression. All she could see was his retreating figure, silent now, his footsteps light and the chime of bells around him dancing through the moonlight, ethereal and sweet.
Chu'he felt a twinge of disappointment.
A moment later, he paused slightly. "You’re so weak, you’d get lost."
Before them stretched a corridor—with only one path.
Chu'he: "...I don’t think I’d get lost."
Ninth turned sideways to look at her, extending a hand. "You would."
After a brief silence, Chu'he relented. "Fine, I would."
To "prevent her weak self from getting lost," she had no choice but to take his offered hand—only for him to clasp hers firmly in return.
The night breeze brushed past the boy’s tied-up white ponytail, sending the red ribbon and the ends of his hair fluttering. A stray lock grazed her cheek before settling on her wrist.
It tickled.
The boy lowered his voice. "Remember, if there’s danger, push him in front to take the hit."
The girl nodded absently. "Mhm, got it."
Fang Songhe, trailing behind, wore a complicated expression, utterly speechless.
He wasn’t deaf, after all.
