Silence descended upon the chamber like a heavy curtain.
Ming Yi, concealed behind the decorative screen, observed both men with calculating precision.
Ji Bozai's expression registered perplexity, yet his hand had subtly tightened into a readied position—clearly prepared for violence. His height already lent him imposing presence; tensed for combat, he radiated genuine menace.
Yan An, conversely, possessed abundant fury but apparently lacking martial refinement. His stance betrayed numerous vulnerabilities, openings that any trained fighter could exploit mercilessly.
"Do you dare to look at my father's memorial tablet?" Yan An demanded, hatred dripping from every syllable.
Ji Bozai laughed—the sound carrying dangerous edges. "Why? Does your father's tablet feature erotic paintings on its surface?"
Ming Yi thought privately, His mouth actively courts trouble.
A vein bulged prominently on Yan An's forehead, pulsing with rage. With an inarticulate shout, he immediately lunged forward to attack. His substantial Yuan power coalesced into an intricate array, descending like a golden bell to envelop Ji Bozai in shimmering containment.
For someone his age, this magnitude of Yuan power demonstrated impressive cultivation. However, Ji Bozai's reputation for overwhelming spiritual energy wasn't merely tavern gossip. With a casual wave of his hand, a streak of purple-gold light erupted forth, instantly shattering Yan An's array into a shower of golden dust that dispersed like dying fireflies.
"Instead of wandering about making baseless accusations," he observed with devastating calm, "you'd be better served practicing your martial techniques. That way, when you eventually locate the genuine culprit, you won't become the third victim."
To be entirely fair, his composure as he remained motionless in his chair—effortlessly victorious, powerful yet nonchalant—proved genuinely captivating. Sunlight filtering through the money house's window lattice fell with perfect precision across his shoulders, resembling the luminous feathers adorning some celestial deity.
Yan An's eyes blazed crimson with fury as he glared at Ji Bozai, chest heaving like an enraged young bull denied his target.
Seeing that her patron faced no genuine danger of defeat, Ming Yi tidied her hair and clothing with practiced efficiency, then returned to Ji Bozai's side as if absolutely nothing of consequence had transpired. "Gentlemen, please exercise restraint. There must be some misunderstanding here."
"What misunderstanding could possibly exist? In that entire gathering, you, Ji Bozai, were the only person harboring a grudge against my father!" Yan An proved too consumed by rage to accept the diplomatic escape route she'd offered. He thrust an accusing finger toward Ji Bozai. "Others might remain ignorant, but don't presume I don't know the truth. You've always believed it was my father's misdiagnosis that destroyed the entire Meng family. You've nursed that grudge for years, and now you've finally discovered the opportunity for revenge, haven't you?"
Ji Bozai's eyebrow lifted with amused curiosity. "Which Meng family are you referencing?"
"Don't perform ignorance! I witnessed you in the Meng family's back courtyard when I was a child!"
"Oh?" He rose fluidly, arm sliding around Ming Yi's waist with possessive casualness, and sauntered toward Yan An with predatory grace. Looking down at him with steady, unwavering intensity, he spoke with quiet authority. "I was raised in a slave camp. Which Meng family's courtyard did you allegedly see me occupying?"
His aura truly overwhelmed the space. Standing beside him, Ming Yi witnessed the precise moment confusion flickered through Yan An's eyes, cracking his certainty like ice under spring thaw.
Could it be he'd mistaken someone else for Ji Bozai?
She considered the logic privately. It made perfect sense. At the banquet that fateful evening, she'd remained by his side throughout the entire event. Between consuming wine and engaging in playful flirtation with dancers, he'd been far too occupied to orchestrate any murders.
Shaking her head with gentle diplomacy, Ming Yi advised softly, "The murder investigation falls under the judicial officer's authority. Young master, attacking rashly like this would prove difficult to explain to official investigators. Since we've encountered each other by chance today, why not settle down for a civilized cup of tea?"
"Who wants to drink tea with him?" Yan An's angry expression reasserted itself immediately, fury flooding back as he glared at Ji Bozai. "This murder case must connect to you somehow. Just wait—I'm going to find the judicial officer immediately."
Ji Bozai regarded him as one might observe a particularly dim-witted creature, not even bothering to impede his departure as he watched him storm dramatically from the establishment.
"My lord, this..." Ming Yi blinked with calculated uncertainty.
"Let him go," he dismissed with a careless wave. "The judicial officer has been adjudicating cases for years and isn't a fool. He won't entertain such emotional nonsense."
Then he angled his gaze downward to regard her, eyes narrowing with playful suspicion. "Why did you return? Weren't you fleeing quite rapidly earlier?"
She covered her mouth, smile radiating strategic guilt. "What are you saying, my lord? I wasn't fleeing at all. I was merely checking whether that screen concealed an escape route. In case circumstances turned dangerous, I could guide you to safety."
"Oh?" His eyebrow arched with theatrical skepticism. "And how did your inspection conclude? Is there an escape route?"
She released a musical giggle and snuggled against him with practiced affection. "I looked thoroughly and realized that you, my lord, represent the most powerful escape route available. As long as I remain by your side, I have nothing to fear."
What a glib little creature.
He snorted softly, pinching her yielding cheek between his fingers, then guided her back toward the waiting carriage.
The gold bars proved too heavy for Ming Yi's delicate frame to transport, so she simply leaned against the lacquered box, examining her treasure from every conceivable angle with undisguised satisfaction.
"My lord, are all these truly mine now?"
"Can I use them to purchase jewelry? What about acquiring a courtyard?"
"You're giving me so much at once—aren't you afraid I'll simply run away?"
She chirped continuously like an animated little sparrow discovering an especially promising nesting site.
Ji Bozai found it amusing, finally comprehending why Xun Mama had characterized her as noisy. When this girl experienced happiness, she talked incessantly, seemingly incapable of maintaining silence.
"My lord doesn't hold an official government position. If you've given all this gold to me, what will you do?" she pondered aloud, brow creasing with worry that appeared surprisingly genuine.
He chuckled, playing along with her concern. "Then I'll simply take it all back from you."
"Absolutely not," she protested with unexpected seriousness. "Gold doesn't fill your stomach. Wait here, my lord. I'll go purchase you some flatbread to eat."
The roadside flatbread was remarkably inexpensive. She didn't even need to open the box lid, simply extracting two copper coins to complete the transaction.
Ji Bozai rolled his eyes, lazily reclining against the carriage to await her return. He wanted to call her stingy, but her slender white hands looked so aesthetically pleasing even clutching merely two copper coins. She returned bearing a scallion oil flatbread, switching it rapidly from hand to hand as the heat proved too intense, blowing on it repeatedly and pinching her reddened earlobe, sticking her tongue out at him from across the distance with childlike unselfconsciousness.
He couldn't help but watch her longer than strictly necessary.
Her small pink tongue, her vibrant eye-catching dress—in the entire grey, dust-laden street, she blazed as the most radiant and captivating sight available.
Never mind, he decided. Let her be greedy for money. The Grand Secretariat was correct; people should possess more desires than none whatsoever.
"My lord, this shop's flatbread is the absolute best," she announced happily, settling back beside him and sharing half the bread with generous enthusiasm. "Try it."
The freshly baked scallion oil flatbread released delicious aromas and left a pleasantly buttery taste lingering on the lips. Ji Bozai consumed several bites and nodded with mild approval.
"It's good, isn't it? When I used to work this street, I craved this shop's bread more than anything," she said, taking a substantial bite herself and squinting with pure satisfaction. "Now I can eat as much as I want. It's wonderful."
He asked with studied casualness, "You used to live on this street?"
"I used to make a living on this street," she clarified with a smile, gesturing with her free hand. "I was only this tall back then, and skinny as a reed. Couldn't earn many copper coins, so every time I passed by, I could only inhale the aroma."
Ji Bozai paused mid-chew and glanced at her with newfound attention.
She seemed completely unbothered by her past experiences, making no attempt to extract sympathy by weeping about hardship. She simply mentioned it conversationally, like discussing weather. "When I can afford to buy a house in the future, I'll purchase one nearby. Then I can buy a flatbread to eat every single day when I leave home."
Experiencing a strange sensation he couldn't quite name, Ji Bozai made a soft sound of acknowledgment and gently stroked the ends of her hair with unexpected tenderness.
Men often harbored heroic aspirations. A woman who required his rescue proved far more attractive than one who was simply beautiful.
He suddenly became intensely curious about what she'd experienced in her past—what had shaped this peculiar creature who valued gold bars and cheap flatbread with equal transparent joy.
Previous/Next
.jpeg)
.jpeg)
.jpeg)