Chapter 89
At that moment, a soft knock interrupted.
“Your Highness, Commander Wang requests an audience,” came Yang Bo’s voice.
Shangguan Ye’s face instantly darkened, his eyes sharp as swords glaring toward the door, exuding frustration and a faint killing intent. Murong Qiufeng, however, secretly let out a breath of relief.
Sensing Murong Qiufeng’s tense body relax slightly, Shangguan Ye took a deep breath, sighed softly, and released him. He gently pinched Murong’s chin and said, “Wash up properly. You look like a soot-covered cat. We’ll talk later.” With that, he leapt out of the water, not even bothering to change his wet clothes, and left in quick strides.
When the door closed, Murong Qiufeng finally relaxed completely. Raising a hand to touch his chin, he could still feel the lingering warmth of Shangguan Ye’s touch. His mind replayed Shangguan’s domineering demeanor, his indulgent helplessness, his worry and fear, and his gentleness.
Murong Qiufeng closed his eyes wearily, covering them with his hand, and sank fully into the water. His thoughts were chaotic, but his awareness was sharp. He understood all too clearly that he didn’t reject any of Shangguan Ye’s advances.
Shangguan Ye’s few simple words had left him shaken. The sheer extent of Shangguan’s unconditional indulgence and protectiveness made him feel as though he was Shangguan’s entire world—more important than even the heavens and earth.
Part of him reveled in being treasured so deeply, yet another part was afraid—afraid of falling too deeply. He didn’t understand Shangguan Ye’s feelings for him, nor could he fully grasp his own emotions toward Shangguan.
Meanwhile, Shangguan Ye stormed into the hall, his expression dark and his frustration palpable.
Commander Wang, upon seeing the fury etched on Shangguan Ye’s face and the sharp glare thrown his way, felt his heart sink. Had he made some grievous mistake? He immediately bowed low. “Your Highness.”
“What is it?” Shangguan Ye sat down with a cold snort, his tone laced with irritation.
As Yang Bo served tea, a subtle smile played on his lips. He fully understood the situation, though he had indeed deliberately timed his interruption. He could have made Commander Wang wait, but he greatly favored Murong Qiufeng, treating him like his own grandson and regarding him as a second master of the estate. The harder someone is to win over, the more they are cherished. Yang Bo was simply helping Murong test Shangguan Ye’s patience.
If Shangguan Ye ever found out, he might only be able to sigh helplessly, both amused and exasperated. Despite Murong Qiufeng’s mere two months at the estate, he had already won over everyone, inside and out. Even Yang Bo leaned toward his side. It was partly because Murong was so exceptional and likable—and partly because his charm attracted trouble from all sorts of unwanted admirers.
“Your Highness, please look,” Commander Wang said gravely, gesturing to a soldier beside him.
The soldier nodded, crouched down, and pulled back the white cloth on the ground, revealing two bodies.
Shangguan Ye’s eyes narrowed slightly as he took in the corpses. He recognized them immediately: one was a bodyguard of Zhao Xiru, the other was Zhao Xiru herself.
Commander Wang continued, “They’ve been dead for two days. One was poisoned, while the Seventh Princess was strangled to death. Their bodies were hidden in the stable at the post station. When the fire broke out, the frightened horses uncovered them from beneath the hay.”
“How can you be sure this is Zhao Xiru?” Shangguan Ye frowned, scrutinizing the body. While it bore a resemblance to her, the face was slightly discolored, with bruises and marks likely caused by an attempt to obscure her features.
“This body shows no signs of disguise. Additionally, members of Zhao’s royal family bear a unique tattoo, created with special substances. She also bears such a mark.”
“A tattoo doesn’t guarantee identity. Disguise techniques that evade detection exist, and tattoos can be expertly forged. If Zhao Kingdom wanted to fabricate evidence to shift blame, producing an identical tattoo would be simple,” a voice interrupted.
Both men turned to see Murong Qiufeng. Now dressed in pristine white, he exuded a clean, refreshing aura that lightened the somber atmosphere.
Shangguan Ye raised an eyebrow. Noticing Murong’s gaze fixed on the bodies with a frown, he asked, “You think it’s fake?”
Murong Qiufeng stared at the corpses. Though he knew they were counterfeit, he couldn’t suppress a twinge of sadness. Despite spending only a day with Zhao Xiru, he had a favorable impression of her. Whether this was her own scheme or she had been coerced, it was inevitable that they would become enemies.
He nodded. “I’m certain this isn’t her.”
“Oh? How so?” Shangguan Ye’s interest was piqued, and he looked at Murong Qiufeng with an eager expression.
Murong Qiufeng sighed lightly and pulled a slender silver needle from his sleeve. He gently inserted it into the female corpse’s throat.
A foul stench immediately filled the room as black liquid began oozing from the needle’s entry point.
Shangguan Ye’s brows furrowed deeply. He watched Murong Qiufeng’s calm demeanor with surprise—Murong’s composed expression seemed to suggest this outcome was expected. This moment made Shangguan regard him with newfound admiration. He glanced at the slender needle and wondered if Murong always carried such things in his clothing without his notice.
Thinking back to the times he had provoked Murong, Shangguan felt a sense of relief, as Murong had never truly retaliated.
Commander Wang, however, did not have their level of skill to hold his breath and was forced to cover his nose, his eyes wide with shock and disgust. His face alternated between pale and green, as though he was on the verge of vomiting. The smell resembled that of a corpse decaying for several months.
“This person hasn’t been dead for two days but for over ten,” Murong explained. “A certain drug was used to preserve her body, making it appear as though she only recently died.”
“How did you figure it out, sir?” Commander Wang asked, his voice muffled by the hand covering his nose.
Murong Qiufeng stood up and offered a slight smile. “I’ve dealt with medicinal substances since I was a child, so I’m particularly sensitive to their smells. I caught a whiff of something unusual from her earlier and deduced the rest.”
Shangguan Ye recalled that Murong had been consuming medicine since birth, and a pang of sympathy flickered across his heart.
“Additionally,” Murong continued, “this woman’s body does not match that of a typical pampered noblewoman. However, one thing is certain—she isn’t Zhao Xiru. Although Zhao Xiru is not a martial artist, she does possess a unique self-defense skill involving zither strings. Yet, this woman’s fingers lack any calluses from such practice. That alone is unusual.”
Shangguan Ye stepped forward, gazing down at the corpse from above. He then turned to Murong Qiufeng. “When you first approached, from such a distance, you couldn’t possibly have smelled or noticed these details. Did you believe this was Zhao Xiru at the time?”
Murong Qiufeng froze momentarily before glancing at Shangguan Ye with exasperation, silently thinking, Nothing escapes this man. “Of course not. To be honest, I never thought Zhao Xiru’s life was truly in danger.”
“Why?” Commander Wang looked eagerly between Murong and Shangguan Ye, clearly hungry for answers.
Murong Qiufeng smiled faintly before speaking.
