Inside Returning Dust Hall.
Su Muchen gathered the documents scattered across the table, putting them into the file folder one by one.
He was neither hurried nor slow, as though using these trivial tasks to gradually press that indescribable emotion in his chest back down, while organizing the information in his mind at the same time.
Xiao sat behind the counter, with the already sealed letter in front of him.
There was no address on the envelope, because this was a letter being sent to Dasheng.
He had written only four characters—Huaiyu, personally opened.
The handwriting was much more neat and proper than usual, as though the person writing the letter had deliberately put away his usual lazy manner.
He normally addressed Xia Lanshi as “Chief Secretary Xia,” as though deliberately keeping his distance could fool something.
But now, many things were different. His heart was in chaos, and he was deeply uneasy.
He was afraid of certain things, yet reality continued to force itself upon him one matter after another.
And now, with this letter, he was not even sure whether he had written it correctly.
Xiao looked toward the door.
He thought……he should understand, right?
Su Muchen glanced at him but did not tease him.
He put the file folder back on the counter and reopened his laptop.
When the screen lit up, it reflected the bloodshot veins that had not yet completely faded from his eyes.
He had clearly slept for three and a half hours, yet it felt as though it was nowhere near enough.
He took another sip of coffee that had already gone cold. The bitterness spread across his tongue, barely forcing him to become a little more awake.
Xiao pushed the envelope aside and got up to change the hot water.
“Are you still going to investigate?”
Su Muchen nodded.
“The old Sheng records haven’t been completely searched yet. The records from Grandfather’s generation only go as far as the termination of the transactions, but there should still be clues in the old storeroom about what Sheng did afterward.”
Xiao did not stop him.
He knew that what Su Muchen needed now was not rest, but to see clearly, one by one, the threads entangled around Returning Dust Hall. Sheng had been watching them for three generations. He did not want his generation to remain kept in the dark.
Su Muchen opened the Sheng investigation file and added He Qiming’s information. Name, affiliated companies, time of visit, summary of the conversation, suspicious points. At the end, he added another sentence: This person is interested in Returning Dust Hall’s internal layout, especially the direction of the rear courtyard.
After finishing, he casually opened the public information page of the Sheng Corporation.
This was something he would never have looked at before. A medical student buried in debt would not have any reason to investigate what the headquarters of a conglomerate looked like.
But things were different now.
What he was looking for was that half-open peony emblem.
Xiao Yuan had said that Sheng Yuanli’s family crest was a half-open peony branch.
Yet the logo of the modern Sheng Corporation had nothing to do with it. He had searched through the affiliated companies under Sheng and could not find any similar design.
But he refused to give up.
Su Muchen flipped through the images one by one.
Sheng Corporation’s headquarters was located in the most central area of Yun-jing’s new city district. The building’s exterior was mainly composed of glass curtain walls and metal structures—cold, modern, and towering. Looking only at its exterior, there was no connection whatsoever to peonies, floral patterns, or traditional emblems.
He frowned and was about to close the page when his gaze suddenly swept over a nighttime panoramic photograph at the bottom.
The angle of that photograph was unusual. It had been taken looking upward from the side of the building. The lights reflected against the glass, faintly refracting into a huge geometric shape.
It was not a pattern directly carved into the building, but a shadow formed by the intersection of the lights and the structure.
That shadow fell across the ground of the plaza beneath the building, resembling a flower blown open halfway by the wind.
Su Muchen enlarged the image.
The outline of the petals was blurry, but he could vaguely tell it was a peony, half-open.
He stared at the image for a long time without speaking.
Xiao returned carrying hot tea. Seeing his expression, he lowered his head and glanced at the screen as well.
“This is……”
“Sheng Corporation headquarters.” Su Muchen’s voice was very low. “The lighting projection on the plaza. A half-open peony.”
Xiao fell silent.
The air between the two seemed to be gently pressed down by something.
Su Muchen clicked open the introduction to the Sheng Corporation headquarters building again—
Peony Glory Center: Located in downtown Yun-jing City. Eighty-eight floors high.
Xiao Yuan had said that Sheng Yuanli’s family crest was a half-open peony branch.
The plaza of the modern Sheng Corporation headquarters also had the shadow of a half-open peony.
If this had happened before, it could have been a coincidence.
But now that the door had already opened, they could no longer treat a coincidence as merely a coincidence.
Su Muchen took a screenshot, saved it, and added another entry to the Sheng investigation file.
The lighting projection on the ground of the modern Sheng headquarters plaza takes the shape of a half-open peony.
A direct connection has not yet been confirmed. Continued investigation recommended.
Next, all he had to do was show this image to Xiao Yuan for confirmation, and he would be able to determine whether the Sheng family crest of Dasheng and the modern Sheng Corporation were directly connected.
After finishing, he leaned back against the chair, suddenly feeling a heaviness in his stomach.
“Xiao.”
“Mm.”
“You said before that Sheng’s ancestors had a fragmentary book. Could that book also record the origin of the Sheng family?”
He had searched a great deal of information about the Sheng Corporation online, but could only find some public information.
Xiao remained silent.
After a moment, he said, “It’s possible. If that fragmentary book really came from the sect, or from Dasheng, it wouldn’t be strange for the book to contain the Sheng family’s crest or origins.”
“Then does Sheng Chengxiu know?”
“Not necessarily,” Xiao said. “He may only regard it as a traditional family symbol. He may not know that this symbol also exists on the other side of the Great Dasheng.”
Su Muchen looked at the half-open floral shadow on the screen and said quietly, “But what if he does know?”
Xiao did not answer.
The answer to this question was too heavy.
If Sheng Chengxiu knew that the peony existed in both worlds at the same time, it would mean that his understanding of the door was far deeper than they had thought.
He was watching Returning Dust Hall perhaps not merely because of the old records and fragmentary book left behind by Grandfather, but because he knew that on the other side of the door, there was also someone bearing the same emblem.
Su Muchen saved the screenshot separately into an encrypted folder and named it “Connection Between Sheng and Sheng Yuanli.”
After finishing all this, he did not continue investigating. Instead, he picked up a pen and began writing in the blank space of his notebook.
Xiao had originally thought he was recording some important clue. When he leaned closer, however, he discovered that the page was covered with words that had been crossed out and rewritten.
“Muchen?”
Su Muchen did not raise his head.
“Choosing a name.”
Xiao froze for a moment, remembering what they had talked about earlier.
Su Muchen did not like his own name.
He had said that he wanted to choose another one.
But Xiao had thought it was merely something he had said casually. He had not expected him to actually take it seriously.
Xiao lowered his head and looked at the words he had written. Huaiyuan, Lin’an—Su Muchen had already crossed them out. Su Mu……nothing that followed felt right. Muning, Mufeng, Muyue.
Seeing Su Muchen’s troubled expression, he found it somewhat amusing. When he had chosen his own name back then, he had simply picked one at random.
An owl was a nocturnal animal, and it suited him very well. He had not thought much beyond that, but he himself liked it very much.
A name was indeed important, though. It represented one’s individual self, and when others called one’s name, it also affirmed one’s own value and existence.
A familiar sound suddenly came from the back room.
White light seeped through the crack of the door.
This time, it was not a hurried fissure, but a steady light that gradually illuminated layer by layer.
Xiao Yuan stepped out from the light.
He had changed into a clean outer robe. The snow on his shoulders had already been brushed away. His face was still tired, but he looked better than he had that morning.
In his hand was a new leather bag, clearly containing new intelligence.
Xiao had actually noticed it long ago.
Every time that man entered Returning Dust Hall, the first thing he looked at was not the supplies or the medicine.
It was whether Su Muchen was still in the shop.
Su Muchen instinctively looked at his hand.
“Have you changed the dressing on your wound?”
Xiao Yuan’s footsteps stopped.
Su Muchen’s brows immediately furrowed.
“You didn’t?”
Xiao Yuan said, “It’s not urgent.”
Su Muchen gave him a cold look. That gaze was more oppressive than his words.
“Sit down.”
Xiao Yuan looked at the familiar wooden chair, then at the medical kit that Su Muchen had not yet put away beside him.
He did not resist. In fact, he could even be considered obedient as he walked over and sat down.
Su Muchen pulled his hand over and removed the dressing on the back of his hand.
The edges of the wound were slightly red, but there was no pus and it had not split open. It was not serious.
But if it continued to be repeatedly frozen by the wind and snow, who knew whether it would worsen.
With a dark expression, Su Muchen disinfected it again, applied medicine, and put on a new dressing. His movements were a little heavier than usual, yet still precise, without the slightest wasted motion.
“If you forget to change it again tomorrow, I’ll sew the medicine packet directly onto your sword scabbard.”
Su Muchen threatened him coldly as he put away the medical kit.
Xiao Yuan lowered his head and looked at his newly bandaged right hand. Rarely, he did not argue.
The hand was wrapped properly. He clenched his fist, then released it. The bandage was neither too tight nor too loose, just right and not interfering with movement.
Su Muchen’s skill had always been like this.
When he raised his head, his gaze happened to fall on the sheet of paper on the table covered with traces of erasure.
The paper was densely filled with many words. Some had been crossed out, some circled, and more had been written halfway before being rejected.
Looking carefully, most of them contained the character “Mu.”
Su Muchen noticed his gaze and paused.
“……I was just writing randomly.”
He reached out, intending to put the sheet away.
But Xiao Yuan was one step faster and had already picked up the paper.
“You don’t like your original name?”
Su Muchen sighed.
“I don’t.”
His answer was completely frank.
“The name Muchen was casually chosen by Su Jiancheng. Something like ‘bathed in the mortal world, bathed in dust.’ It doesn’t sound like a very auspicious meaning.”
At this point, he could not help cursing Su Jiancheng once again in his heart.
Other people’s names either carried their parents’ hopes or entrusted blessings.
When it came to him, it seemed as though someone had simply reached into a dictionary, grabbed two characters, and put them together.
Like an ill-fitting old garment, worn for more than twenty years, yet never truly fitting.
Xiao Yuan listened quietly.
After a moment, he suddenly said, “I don’t like my name either.”
Su Muchen was slightly startled.
Xiao Yuan lowered his eyes.
Within those usually calm and composed eyes, there rarely appeared a faint shadow, so faint that it was almost impossible to see.
“The character Yuan can mean a deep abyss, or a deep pool. When His Majesty bestowed the name, he said that he hoped I would remember my origin.”
His tone was calm, so calm that no emotion could be heard.
Yet Su Muchen inexplicably felt that it probably was not a pleasant memory.
Abyss.
Deep pool.
Remember your origin.
It sounded more like a warning.
—You came from the depths. Don’t even dream of climbing too high.
The two of them were silent for a moment.
One did not wish to mention his father.
The other did not wish to mention the Emperor.
Rarely, they found themselves somewhat like fellow sufferers.
Xiao Yuan looked at the sheet of paper and suddenly picked up the pen beside him.
The pen tip touched the paper. Two characters slowly appeared on the page.
It was an ordinary fountain pen, yet in his hand, he had somehow written them with the vigorous force of a calligraphy brush.
—Muan.
“After a man of Dasheng turns twenty and undergoes the capping ceremony, he usually takes a courtesy name. The courtesy name is often given by a teacher or elder.”
Xiao Yuan put down the pen.
“If you don’t mind, you can use this.”
Su Muchen lowered his head and looked.
Muan.
The strokes were steady yet contained a force, just like Xiao Yuan himself.
Two simple characters, yet they sounded much more pleasing than the ones he had thought of earlier.
He looked at them again and again, unexpectedly feeling as though these two characters had naturally belonged together from the beginning.
“An?”
Xiao Yuan nodded.
“An, as in peace.”
He paused, his voice slightly lower than usual.
“I hope that from now on, you will be safe and blessed, and live your days peacefully and steadily.”
Su Muchen froze for a moment, as though something had gently touched a certain place in his heart.
It was not a fierce sensation, but rather like someone reaching across the weight of countless years and placing a tiny lamp in his chest.
He had actually never imagined that someone would seriously choose a name for him.
Much less that person would be Xiao Yuan.
There was no “dust.”
Nor any of those tiresome pasts.
There was only the character “An.”
For some reason, it really did sound much better.
After a long while, he could not help smiling.
“The meaning is pretty good. Those two things seem to be exactly what I’m lacking most right now.”
Safety.
Peace.
Both were things he desperately wanted yet could not obtain.
Debts, Sheng, the door, the northern frontier—each one was like a tide, surging toward him wave after wave without giving him time to breathe.
Yet at this moment, someone had written these two characters for him inside this shabby little shop.
He lowered his head and looked at those two characters. The more he looked, the more pleasing they became.
In the end, he simply made the decision.
“Fine. From now on, call me Muan.”
A very faint smile passed through Xiao Yuan’s eyes.
That smile was like a thread of warmth showing through beneath a sheet of ice.
He said nothing. He merely picked up the pen again and wrote two more characters beside “Muan.”
—Jingyuan.
“This is my courtesy name,” Xiao Yuan said. “Grand Tutor Xia chose it. Xia Lanshi’s courtesy name, ‘Huaiyu,’ also came from him.”
Su Muchen stared at those two characters for a long while.
Jingyuan.
The brilliance of jade was called jing. And jade was associated with the character of a gentleman.
Compared with merely the character “Yuan,” it carried a little more brightness and a little less coldness—sharp yet restrained, like a blade sheathed in its scabbard.
He suddenly remembered the first time Xiao Yuan had appeared in Returning Dust Hall—covered in blood, yet with eyes colder than the edge of a blade.
The Xiao Yuan from that time had been more like “Yuan,” unfathomably deep, keeping people a thousand miles away.
But now, he could gradually see what lay beneath that layer of ice.
“Jingyuan.”
He unconsciously said it once.
“This name is good.”
His voice was not loud, yet it clearly fell into Xiao Yuan’s ears.
Xiao Yuan raised his eyes to look at him.
Su Muchen was looking down at the paper, his fingers resting beside the handwriting.
The lamplight fell across the side of his face, his eyelashes casting a faint shadow, like butterfly wings folded beside a lamp.
He was looking at it with such concentration that he was completely unaware of the gaze resting upon him.
At that instant, the room suddenly became quiet.
It was not an empty silence, but the kind of held breath that came after something had filled the space completely.
Even the air seemed to soften, as though afraid to disturb something.
When Su Muchen finally sensed that something was wrong and raised his head, he realized that Xiao Yuan had somehow already moved very close.
Close enough to see the reflection in each other’s eyes, and to feel the faint warmth between their breaths.
Xiao Yuan’s eyelashes were long, the lines of his brows sharp as blades. At this moment, there was no killing intent in those eyes, no calculation.
There was only a calm, almost overwhelming focus, as though he were looking at an existence that needed to be carefully confirmed.
The tips of Su Muchen’s ears suddenly grew warm, and he instinctively took half a step back.
Xiao Yuan did not move.
He merely looked at him, his gaze calm and focused, as though examining someone whose existence he needed to confirm with great care.
“From now on, I’ll call you Muan.”
His voice was very low, so low that it seemed meant only for the one person standing before him.
“You call me Jingyuan. Is that all right?”
Su Muchen’s heart inexplicably skipped a beat.
They were clearly only addressing each other by their courtesy names, yet somehow it gave him an indistinct feeling he could not put into words.
As though something had quietly changed without him realizing it.
It was not a transaction, nor supplies or gold, but something softer, more private, and harder to define.
He avoided Xiao Yuan’s gaze and hurriedly took a step back, pretending to remain calm.
“Okay, okay, whatever. You decide.”
The moment the words left his mouth, even Su Muchen felt that his answer sounded a little flustered.
He knew that Xiao Yuan allowing him to address him directly by name was already outrageous enough.
Even though Xiao Yuan was an unimportant prince, he was still the Prince Su. In all of Da Sheng, everyone only dared to call him “Your Highness” and no one dared to directly utter his personal name. And “Jingyuan” was a name known by even fewer people and dared to be called by even fewer.
Now Xiao Yuan had handed that name to him, as if handing him a key capable of opening a certain private door.
Xiao Yuan looked at him, and the smile in his eyes finally became a little more apparent.
It was not deep, but it was genuine.
He called softly,
“…Mu’an.”
His voice was very low, like the lingering echo left behind when the night wind swept across the eaves of Returning Dust Hall. The two characters fell from his lips, neither light nor heavy, yet landed firmly in the deepest part of Su Muchen’s heart.
Su Muchen froze for a moment.
It was clearly a name he had only just chosen, yet when it came from Xiao Yuan’s mouth, it inexplicably felt as though someone had been calling him that for many years.
As if those two characters had not only just been written on paper, but had already existed somewhere he could no longer remember, waiting only for this person to speak them.
And they carried an extremely intimate feeling.
It was not a formal address used for official business, nor simply the relationship between patient and doctor or shopkeeper and customer. It was a kind of closeness that he had not yet figured out, yet had already begun to take shape.
It was only a simple call, but Su Muchen felt as though he had been gently enclosed by something invisible, temporarily separated from all the chaos, exhaustion, and danger around him.
If he had to put it into words, perhaps they were friends or comrades-in-arms, but he always felt that Xiao Yuan’s gaze and tone seemed to mean more than that.
The smile in those eyes made his chest burn.
It burned so badly that he felt he could no longer hold himself together, the heat spreading straight from the tips of his ears down to his neck.
He did not even dare imagine what color his face was at that moment.
Behind the counter some distance away, Xiao was holding his tablet and had silently watched the entire process.
He suddenly felt that he probably should not be sitting here, and even less should he be this clear-headed.
There was only one thought filling his mind—
Should he find somewhere to disappear for a while?
He decided to go to the back kitchen to brew a pot of tea and, incidentally, find himself a place where he would not be blinded by the display of affection.
He had only just gotten to his feet when someone moved even faster than him and snatched the teapot from his hands.
“I-I’ll go make the tea!”
Su Muchen rushed toward the back kitchen at lightning speed.
He walked very quickly, and the redness at the tips of his ears was so obvious that Xiao could see it at a glance.
Rather than going to make tea, that figure looked more like it was fleeing the scene.
Xiao spoke leisurely.
“Your Highness.”
There was a hint of scrutiny in his eyes. The usual lazy, easygoing expression had faded, like thin mist being swept aside to reveal the calm and sharp truth beneath. He looked at Xiao Yuan as if weighing something, or perhaps confirming something.
“Did you just secure yourself a private form of address?”
Xiao Yuan replied indifferently, “Incidentally.”
Xiao let out a soft laugh.
“Incidentally?”
That might fool Su Muchen, but there was no way it would fool him.
How could this possibly be incidental? It was clearly something Xiao Yuan had been planning for a long time.
He knew that when Xiao Yuan had first approached Su Muchen, giving him the privilege of directly using his name and appearing outwardly compliant toward Su Muchen, all of it had been purposeful.
This man’s schemes ran extremely deep—so deep that, merely to make the people of the capital lower their guard, he could keep Chi Banyue at his side and disguise her as his beloved concubine, even at the cost of ruining his own reputation.
He could also retract his claws and quietly lie in wait, willing to make use of everything, including every useful person around him, solely to achieve his objective.
Xiao suddenly felt that Xiao Yuan and Xia Lanshi truly were worthy of being ruler and minister.
One would “incidentally” get Su Muchen to call him by his courtesy name, while the other would write a letter hinting and testing his savior, saying that he still remembered the scent of cold plum blossoms.
They were both men of schemes.
Xiao originally did not care.
After all, Su Muchen currently needed Xiao Yuan’s financial support, while Xiao Yuan needed Su Muchen to provide supplies and medical resources. They were mutually beneficial, each taking what they needed, and he was even happy to see it happen.
But now things were different.
The way Xiao Yuan looked at Su Muchen had changed.
It was no longer the scrutiny of a “resource that could be exploited,” nor the gratitude of a “life-saving benefactor.” That gaze was more complicated, deeper, and more dangerous.
Like a person accustomed to walking alone who had suddenly discovered that he no longer wanted to walk alone.
Xiao narrowed his eyes. His usual casualness disappeared, and although his voice was not loud, every word was clear.
“My cousin’s heart is simple. I hope Your Highness will spare him. The door… will not remain open forever.”
Those words were like an unsheathed blade, gently pressed between the two of them.
Xiao Yuan did not answer immediately. He understood what Xiao was saying.
The door would close.
Sooner or later, that white light would completely go out, and the crack between the two worlds would be erased by time. When that happened, what separated him and Su Muchen would no longer be wind, snow, and distance, but a spacetime that could never be crossed.
He did not deny that he had selfish motives.
From initially needing Su Muchen’s medical skills to save his life, to later needing his supplies, his judgment, and his contingency plans, and then—
He could no longer distinguish whether he opened the door every night to take away supplies, or simply to see whether that lamp was still lit and whether that person was still sitting behind the counter.
“He has the right to choose.”
Xiao Yuan finally spoke, his voice low but steady.
“Whether to stay here or follow me.”
For the first time, he voiced what was in his heart. There was no concealment, and he did not even leave himself a way out.
He would not force Su Muchen to choose him.
Even if the final result was not what he wished for, he would still respect Su Muchen’s final choice.
If Su Muchen could cross over and chose to follow him, naturally, that would be good.
“If he does not wish to, I am willing to bless him.”
If one day the door closed and Su Muchen chose to remain in Returning Dust Hall, he would still be willing to bless him.
The last few words were spoken extremely softly, as light as a wisp of smoke in the northern border’s wind and snow, liable to scatter at any moment.
He did not say, “I will bless him.”
He only said, “I am willing to bless him.”
As if it were a choice requiring strength, rather than a natural acceptance.
Xiao looked at him and said nothing more.
In those eyes that usually carried a smile, only the calmness that came after scrutiny remained.
He heard the weight behind Xiao Yuan’s words.
It was not possession, nor coercion, but a man accustomed to controlling everything finally, for once, loosening his grip.
Even though that hand still wanted to hold on.
He was silent for a moment, then finally let out a soft sigh.
“I’ll go see if the tea is ready.”
With that, he ended the topic and turned toward the back kitchen.
His footsteps gradually faded, and the shop became quiet again.
Xiao Yuan sat alone beside the counter, lowering his head to look at the sheet of paper on the table.
Written on it were Mu’an and Jingyuan.
The two names stood side by side, like some sort of promise he did not dare to voice, yet had already put to paper.
Faint sounds came from the back kitchen. The teapot gently knocked against the stove, and water trickled softly. Someone could be heard lowering his voice to curse at Xiao, while Xiao lazily replied with something, only to be cursed back.
Xiao Yuan listened to those sounds, and the coldness in his eyes slowly dissipated.
Spring had yet to arrive in the northern border. The wind and snow continued, and what he had to do was put everything in order and give Su Muchen a genuine “peace.”
When Su Muchen came out carrying the tea, the redness at the tips of his ears had not completely faded, but his expression had mostly recovered.
He set the teapot down on the table with a thud and spoke stiffly.
“Tea.”
Xiao Yuan looked at him.
“Good.”
Su Muchen became somewhat uncomfortable again at that single “good.” He turned to take the teacups and muttered under his breath, “What’s so good about it? Aren’t you afraid I’ll poison the tea?”
Who would have thought Xiao Yuan heard him and merely smiled.
“You’re a physician. Even if you put medicine in it, it would be good medicine.”
He knew that if Su Muchen truly wanted to harm him, he would have had countless opportunities already.
But he would not.
Because even those people of Da Sheng whom he had never met, Su Muchen thought only of how to save them.
He lifted the cup of hot tea and slowly took a sip.
It was very warm.
Just like this person.
“Let’s talk business.”
Xiao Yuan nodded and took the contents from the leather pouch.
“Sent from Hanchuan.”
Su Muchen took them. They were several duplicate copies of grain warehouse registers bearing Qin Feng’s signature and seal, along with a briefing written by Xia Lanshi.
The briefing stated that the grain carts from the western warehouse of Heisong Ridge had been transferred in batches toward Qingshi Village and Hanchuan. Zhao Ping of the Northern Watchpost had recovered and had already taken over the watchpost duties and begun reorganizing them.
Qin Feng had established two temporary grain distribution points outside Hanchuan City. All grain entering and leaving the area was being recorded according to Su Muchen’s evidence format.
After reading it, Su Muchen breathed a sigh of relief.
“At least the grain wasn’t stolen for nothing.”
Xiao Yuan nodded and took out another item.
It was a copy of a letter. The handwriting was not Xia Lanshi’s, but that of a Hanchuan clerk.
Su Muchen took it and only glanced at it before his expression darkened.
The copy stated that several outsiders claiming to be merchants had recently appeared inside Hanchuan City, asking around about “Returning Dust Medical Sect” and “Doctor Su.”
Qin Feng had ordered people to secretly watch them without alarming them for the time being.
“They’ve started investigating.”
Xiao Yuan nodded.
“Faster than expected.”
Su Muchen was silent for a moment.
“How long can you hold them off?”
Xiao Yuan said, “We’re already doing so. All traces of supplies in Hanchuan have been consolidated. Externally, we’ll only say that Doctor Su’s methods were passed down through the military, and that no one has seen him.”
Su Muchen nodded.
“Still not enough.”
Xiao Yuan looked at him.
Su Muchen said, “If they can’t find the person, they’ll investigate the medicine. If they can’t find the medicine, they’ll investigate witnesses. Too many people in Hanchuan have received relief supplies from the Returning Dust Medical Sect. We can’t silence everyone.”
Xiao Yuan nodded.
“That’s why Xia Lanshi proposed a second layer of explanation.”
Su Muchen raised his eyes.
“The Returning Dust Medical Sect isn’t one person in one place, but a branch of an overseas medical sect,” Xiao Yuan said. “Doctor Su is merely one of those who understands its methods.”
Su Muchen slowly leaned back against the chair.
This was hiding him within a larger shadow.
If the enemy wanted to capture Doctor Su, they would first have to figure out what the Returning Dust Medical Sect actually was.
And the Returning Dust Medical Sect was originally a layer of fog they had deliberately released.
“That works,” he said. “But this explanation needs to be released gradually. It can’t be too neat all at once.”
Xiao Yuan said, “Xia Lanshi said the same.”
Su Muchen thought of that long-serving official he had never met and suddenly felt somewhat peculiar.
“He actually thinks the same way I do.”
Xiao interjected from the side, “That’s why he can stay beside Xiao Yuan, and why you can sit here. It’s the same principle.”
Su Muchen looked at him.
Xiao smiled.
“They’re both people who calculate human nature.”
Su Muchen rolled his eyes, but did not deny it. He simply lowered his head and wrote several lines in his notebook.
Hanchuan defense line.
First layer: Consolidate traces and seal away physical evidence.
Second layer: Release the explanation of the Returning Dust Medical Sect’s scattered branches, diluting the focus on Doctor Su as an individual.
Third layer: Establish false leads and guide the enemy toward the wrong direction.
When he reached the third layer, he paused.
Xiao Yuan asked, “False leads?”
Su Muchen said, “Since they want to investigate the Returning Dust Medical Sect, give them a trail that they can follow, but can never trace to the end. For example, an old site that no longer exists, a Returning Dust traveler who has already died, or an overseas merchant ship that sank long ago.”
Xiao Yuan looked at him.
Su Muchen’s expression remained impassive.
“Didn’t you also plant false accounts at Heisong Ridge?”
Xiao Yuan gave a low laugh.
“You’re learning quickly.”
Su Muchen said coldly, “Likewise.”
Then Su Muchen opened the laptop again and showed Xiao Yuan the images and photographs he had found today.
“This building is the Sheng Corporation headquarters. I think this pattern looks like a half-open peony. I don’t know whether it’s the same as the Sheng clan emblem in Da Sheng.”
Xiao Yuan examined it carefully.
The shadows formed by the intersecting lights and structure fell across the broad ground floor of the building, resembling a flower blown half open by the wind.
His gaze immediately darkened.
The half-open peony petals, the three outer rings, the center slightly offset to the left—even the composition was identical.
“It’s the same.”
Those words fell among the three of them, brief yet unbearably heavy.
This could almost completely confirm that the Sheng clan of Da Sheng and the modern-day Sheng clan were indeed connected.
But only the imperial bloodline and the Su clan bloodline could traverse between the two worlds.
How, then, did the Sheng clan exchange “information” between the two worlds?
Su Muchen pondered for a moment before saying, “The Sheng clan also has ancient texts. If we can get our hands on them, perhaps we’ll know the answer.”
Xiao agreed, but there was another problem at hand.
“The Sheng clan’s ancient texts are very likely in Sheng Chengxiu’s hands. Getting them would be almost impossible.”
Sheng Chengxiu would certainly keep such an important item under layers of security within the Sheng Corporation. Even he would have difficulty obtaining it.
Xiao Yuan was silent for a moment before saying, “The ancient texts are important, but don’t take risks. We’ll think about this carefully.”
The three of them quickly reached a consensus.
Before leaving, Xiao Yuan put the letter addressed “For Huaiyu’s Attention” into his robes.
Su Muchen saw it and said only one thing:
“Tell him not to stay up too late.”
Xiao Yuan nodded.
“I’ll pass it on.”
The white light rose.
Before Xiao Yuan’s figure was swallowed by the light, he suddenly turned back.
“Mu’an, wait for me.”
Su Muchen froze, still somewhat unaccustomed to this new name.
Xiao Yuan said nothing more. He only looked at him once before turning and stepping through the door.
The white light faded.
Su Muchen stood where he was. Several seconds later, he finally muttered a curse.
“…Why are you calling me that?”
Xiao burst out laughing beside him.
Su Muchen gave him a cold look.
Xiao immediately restrained his expression, but the amusement in his eyes could not be suppressed no matter what.
“Mu’an.”
For some reason, when Su Muchen heard Xiao call him that, it felt completely different from when Xiao Yuan did it.
At this moment, he only wanted to punch Xiao.
Because it sounded exactly like when Xiao called him “cousin”—equally irritating.
“Don’t call me that.”
“Cousin, I’m so hurt. How come an outsider can call you Mu’an, but I can’t? Clearly, I got here first.”
Su Muchen was even more speechless after hearing that.
Perhaps when he was little, he had seen Xiao before, but he had absolutely no memory of it. The earliest thing he remembered was his first day at Returning Dust Hall.
Xiao Yuan had also appeared that very night.
There really wasn’t much difference.
Seeing that Su Muchen was about to pick up the folder on the table and throw it at him, Xiao raised his hands in surrender.
“All right, all right. I won’t say it anymore.”
Su Muchen sat back down behind the counter.
He opened his notebook and was just about to organize today’s intelligence when he saw the sheet of paper on the table.
Mu’an.
Jingyuan.
The two names were written side by side, like some connection he still did not dare to define.
He looked at them for a long time.
In the end, he placed the sheet inside his notebook.
Not to hide it.
It simply was not yet time to decide.