The little insect flew to the front of a house and stopped, hovering for a moment before slipping into the room through a gap in the window.
Chu'he quickly realized, "This is the courtyard of the missing Second Miss Zhao. Could this be her room?"
Ninth covered his mouth as he yawned lazily and said, "Who knows?"
Chu'he: "There might be clues inside. We should go in and check."
Fang Songhe remarked, "But this is a lady's private chamber. Shouldn't we ask the owner for permission first?"
Fang Songhe was undoubtedly a good man, but he was far too rigid in following rules.
Chu'he countered, "If we go find the eldest young lady first, the clues here might be gone by the time we return."
Fang Songhe hesitated slightly.
Ninth seemed to lose patience. "I'm sleepy. I want to go to bed."
After a moment of deliberation, Fang Songhe relented. "Fine, let's go in and take a look first."
Chu'he pulled Ninth back a couple of steps, then looked at Fang Songhe with hopeful eyes.
Fang Songhe paused briefly before obligingly stepping forward and pushing open the door.
The creaking sound was sharp in the quiet night.
Fang Songhe remained cautious, one hand resting on his sword as he slowly entered the room.
The dark room was illuminated only by moonlight, its eerie silence amplifying the unsettling atmosphere.
Chu'he hid behind Ninth as they followed Fang Songhe inside.
Ninth scanned the room, then raised his hand as the little insect landed in his palm. He stated, "That man has been here."
Chu'he frowned. "Why would he come to Second Miss Zhao's room?"
Ninth waved his hand, letting the insect fly away, and replied indifferently, "No idea."
Fang Songhe suddenly spoke up. "He was looking for something."
He observed the messy desk—clearly rifled through—with a pile of letters standing out conspicuously.
Fang Songhe had no habit of snooping into others' private matters. Though curious, he refrained from picking up the letters to read their contents.
Chu'he, however, had no such reservations. Seeing no immediate danger, she boldly stepped forward, picked up a letter, and read aloud:
"May I be the star to your moon, shining brightly together night after night."
She picked up another.
"If love between both sides can last for a lifetime, why need they stay together night and day?"
Then another.
"May my body be like the bright moon, accompanying you even from afar."
Chu'he gasped. "Second Miss Zhao has someone she loves!"
Fang Songhe, hearing the poems she recited, came to the same realization.
The only one out of the loop was the young man from Miaojiang.
His eyes darted around as he stifled his questions. If Chu'he and Fang Songhe understood, wouldn’t asking make him seem foolish?
After going through the letters, Chu'he made a significant discovery. She moved closer to Ninth and handed him a letter.
"Ninth, look! The handwriting in these two letters is different!"
Ninth glanced at it and merely said, "Oh."
What was so special about some neatly written characters?
Chu'he explained, "This must be a reply from the man Second Miss Zhao admires."
The reply also contained a verse:
"There is a beauty I once saw, unforgettable since that day. A single day without her feels like madness."
The handwriting was bold and powerful, clearly the work of a practiced hand.
"Strange," Chu'he mused. "We asked so many people today, yet no one mentioned Second Miss Zhao being in love."
Fang Songhe speculated, "Perhaps the man’s identity is unsuitable to reveal, so she kept it a secret from everyone."
"Speaking of which," Chu'he said, "there’s one person related to Second Miss Zhao we haven’t met yet—Guard Gao."
Fang Songhe asked, "You suspect he’s involved in her disappearance?"
Chu'he nodded.
Fang Songhe pondered for a moment. "Indeed, it’s suspicious that he left the Zhao residence right after she went missing."
Chu'he and Fang Songhe continued their discussion, their words flowing seamlessly, displaying a surprising rapport.
Screech—
The piercing sound of a chair scraping against the floor abruptly interrupted them.
Chu'he pressed on, "Young Master Fang, could the man you’ve been chasing be Guard Gao?"
Fang Songhe considered this before replying, "If, as you say, Guard Gao is highly skilled in martial arts, it would explain how he’s evaded my pursuit multiple times."
Creak—
The grating noise of a table being dragged across the floor was like nails on a chalkboard.
Chu'he added, "If he’s familiar with the Zhao residence, it wouldn’t be strange for him to vanish right before your eyes."
Fang Songhe nodded. "You make a fair point, Miss Chu'he."
Bang! Crash!
The racket sounded like someone was tearing the place apart.
Fang Songhe fell silent for a moment before sighing and saying patiently, "Miss Chu'he, perhaps you should rein him in."
Chu'he turned to see one leg of an exquisitely carved wooden bed now broken.
Several beetle-like insects gnawed at the wood, their sharp teeth leaving hollowed-out grooves in the wooden post.
Ninth crouched on the floor, chin resting on his hands, his crimson eyes fixed intently on the insects as they chewed, as if watching an entertaining game.
Chu'he took a deep breath, forced a smile, and approached him. "Ninth, these are someone else’s belongings. We can’t damage them."
Ninth ignored her, simply shifting to turn his back to her.
Chu'he circled around to face him again, bending down with a bright smile. "Ninth, without you, we’d never have found this room. You’re amazing! We—no, I—absolutely can’t do this without you!"
Ninth barely lifted an eyelid. "We?"
"Me! I can’t do this without you!"
Ninth merely responded with an "Oh," one hand propping up his head while the other played with the wood shavings on the floor, his gaze following the scattered bits lazily.
Yet, when his long hair threatened to touch the ground, he instinctively gathered the ends and placed them in Chu'he’s waiting hand.
Listening to the cheerful jingling sounds coming from him, Chu'he inwardly grumbled a thousand complaints.
Seeing the bed missing a leg only worsened her headache. How were they going to explain this to the Zhao family later?
Fang Songhe, seeing that Chu'he had managed to placate Ninth, approached politely. "Young Master Ninth, perhaps finding Second Miss Zhao will clarify everything. Would your gu insects be able to track her whereabouts?"
Ninth remained silent, head lowered as he idly traced circles in the wood shavings.
Chu'he crouched beside him, one hand cradling his silver-white hair while the other gently tugged his sleeve. "Ninth, dear Ninth, the most incredible Ninth—you must have a way, right?"
A small green snake slithered out from Chu'he’s shoulder, its head bobbing in sync with her words as if collaborating with her.
It seemed to have forgotten who its true master was.
Ninth let Chu'he hook their pinky finger together, a faint smirk playing at the corners of their eyes as they finally deigned to speak, drawing out each word with deliberate leisure: "No need to keep searching. She's already dead."
