Being an emperor is not something he can do, so he can only rely on his connections.

The lingering echoes of the Plum Blossom Taoist's heartfelt farewell still seemed to resonate through the bamboo grove. Her figure, embracing the tombstone, appeared poignant and resolute in the autumn sunset. However, in the next instant, a sudden change occurred!

Her wide, moon-white Taoist robe sleeves moved without wind, and a cold, autumn-water-like light shot out from her sleeves without warning! It was a slender, flexible sword that could be coiled around the waist. The blade was taut and straight under her internal force, and with a sharp whistling sound, it was not aimed elsewhere, but straight at Zhang Jingwei's throat, who was several steps away!

"Alas! Alas! Alas!" Zhang Jingwei was completely unprepared for the Taoist priest who had just finished a heartfelt farewell and seemed to have no desire to fight anymore. He suddenly launched an attack, and such a close and ruthless fatal blow at that! He was so shocked that he retreated repeatedly, instinctively letting out three short cries of horror. He tried to dodge in a very sorry state, but the sword light was like a venomous snake flicking its tongue, already biting at his eyes!

Almost at the same moment the soft sword was thrust out, the elite guards lurking in the surrounding bamboo forest also moved! They were well-trained and reacted extremely quickly, but Plum Blossom Taoist's attack was too sudden and the angle too tricky, aimed directly at the commander-in-chief. Their interception was a fraction of a second too late!

"She's trying to kill herself! Don't kill her—!" At the critical moment of life and death, a thought flashed through Zhang Jingwei's mind like lightning—the Plum Blossom Taoist's actions were definitely not to assassinate him and escape; there was no killing intent in her eyes, only a blank and resolute look! She was deliberately provoking the guards in order to die quickly! He roared hoarsely, hoping to stop the guards from killing her.

However, his roar was drowned out by a sharp whistle!

"call out--!"

A crossbow bolt shot out from the side of the forest, swift as lightning, carrying a strong wind, and with unparalleled accuracy, pierced the upper right chest of the Plum Blossom Taoist just inches away from Zhang Jingwei's throat with the tip of the soft sword! The powerful force made her body tremble violently, her forward momentum stopped abruptly, and the soft sword fell to the ground with a "clang".

Almost simultaneously, two or three more arrows came from different directions. Although they were slightly deflected by Zhang Jingwei's shout, one still grazed her shoulder blade, spraying a spray of blood.

Qian Ming scrambled out from his hiding place behind Zhang Jingwei, his face deathly pale. He spread his arms to shield Zhang Jingwei, his voice trembling as he cried out, "Protect the young master! Protect the young master!"

"Protect your grandma's legs, my foot!" Zhang Jingwei was both shocked and furious. He shoved Qian Ming aside and rushed to Plum Blossom Taoist's side. Her moon-white Taoist robe was already stained crimson with blood. Her body was convulsing violently from the pain and blood loss, but she didn't collapse. Instead, with her last strength, she gripped the ground with both hands, dragging her heavily wounded body inch by inch, laboriously and persistently crawling towards the direction of Bai's lonely grave. A glaring red trail of blood, mixed with mud and withered grass, stretched behind her.

"Don't die! Hold on! I still have questions for you! Jiu'er! Call Jiu'er!" Zhang Jingwei's voice trembled. He knelt on the ground, tearing off his official robe coat without hesitation, ripping open the lining, crumpling it into a ball, and pressing it firmly against the most fatal arrow wound on Plum Blossom Taoist's chest, trying to stop the gushing blood. His other hand supported her trembling shoulder, which was convulsing, and he could clearly feel the warmth of life rapidly slipping away.

Foamy blood continued to gush from Plum Blossom Daoist's mouth, staining her pale jaw and clothes. She seemed to hear Zhang Jingwei's cries; her crawling motion paused, her unfocused gaze straining to focus on the solitary grave so close at hand, then turning with difficulty to Zhang Jingwei. Her lips moved, blood and foam gushing out with each breath: "This... is... my... present... retribution..." Before she could finish speaking, another large mouthful of thick blood spurted out, accompanied by a violent cough. Her body tensed one last time before going completely limp. Her eyes, which had been fixed on the solitary grave, gradually lost all their luster, returning to a hollow silence.

"Qian Ming! I'll fuck your grandpa!" Zhang Jingwei felt the body he was pressing down on completely lose its life force. An indescribable anger mixed with a huge sense of frustration and desolation surged to his head. He turned his head and cursed at Qian Ming, who was standing there dumbfounded, but his eyes involuntarily reddened.

Qian Ming trembled with fright, and protested with a mixture of grievance and fear, "Young Master! How... how can you blame me? I didn't shoot the arrow! And... and she was trying to kill you!"

Wang Ergou also quickly emerged from the woods, kneeling on one knee with a solemn expression: "Young Master, please calm your anger! The situation was critical just now. Plum Blossom Taoist suddenly attacked, his movements were extremely fast, and the angle was fatal. The crossbow bolts were so fast that I... I couldn't immediately identify which colleague's arrow hit a vital spot first. Please punish me, Young Master!"

Zhang Jingwei's chest heaved violently. After finishing his tirade, his anger was quickly swallowed by a deeper sense of powerlessness. He knew that Qian Ming and Wang Ergou were telling the truth. In the guards' eyes, that moment was a fatal assassination attempt; their first priority was their own safety. The Plum Blossom Taoist's determination to die was so resolute, even exploiting his guard mechanisms… who could he truly blame?

He lowered his head dejectedly, preparing to lay the Plum Blossom Taoist's body flat, when his gaze suddenly froze between her tightly clenched right fingers—there, it wasn't empty, nor was it holding any hidden weapon, but rather a small, uprooted, green daylily still covered in damp soil. The daylily, also known as the forget-me-not, is often seen as a symbol of motherhood or remembrance. In this early autumn season, when the mountains and fields were already withered and yellow, this one remained green; she must have found it and picked it while lingering before the grave, holding it in her hand until her last breath.

Looking at the blade of grass stained with her blood, still clutched tightly in her hand, Zhang Jingwei felt as if his heart had been pierced by that crossbow bolt, a sharp, dull pain shooting through him. All his anger, his questioning, his obsession with the final piece of the truth seemed to vanish with the appearance of that blade of grass, turning into a silent sigh.

He remained silent for a long time before slowly instructing in a hoarse voice, "Find a... decent coffin. Bury her... with Bai here. The tombstone... doesn't need much inscription, just... 'Tomb of the Plum Blossom Taoist of Qingxin Temple, and the devout woman Bai.'" He paused, then added, "Have the people from the Taoist temple conduct a simple ceremony."

Qian Ming, seeing Zhang Jingwei's face turn pale and haggard in an instant, stepped forward with concern: "Young Master, you look very unwell..."

Zhang Jingwei waved his hand, as if he had exhausted all his strength: "I'm a little tired... I want to go back and rest by myself first. You... take people and search Qingxin Temple carefully, see if there are any other clues or relics. Be careful not to disturb them too much." After saying that, he no longer looked at the blood-stained open space and the newly added souls. His steps were a little unsteady as he led the donkey he had come from and slowly walked down the mountain.

……

Night falls in the county magistrate's study.

The candlelight flickered gently, casting Zhang Jingwei's long, solitary shadow on the wall. A file lay open before him, but his gaze was vacant, fixed on the dancing flame. Images of blood in the mountain valley during the day, the blade of grass, the Plum Blossom Taoist's final, empty eyes, and her recounting of the Bai family's turbulent life… a jumble of images surged within him, unsettling his mind and making it difficult to find peace. A profound weariness, not merely physical, but even more so a mental burden, weighed heavily on him, making it hard to breathe.

"Knock, knock." A soft knocking sounded on the door.

Zhang Jingwei snapped out of his daze, his voice a little hoarse: "Go in."

Qian Ming tiptoed in, carrying a small wooden box, his expression complex. "Young Master, we've roughly searched Qingxin Temple. Plum Blossom Taoist's residence is very simple, with few personal belongings. This box was found in a hidden compartment under her meditation cushion. Inside were some loose silver coins, a few Taoist scriptures, and... and this." He took out a neatly folded letter sealed with wax from the bottom of the box. "It looks like a suicide note to me. However... after Mr. Yuan glanced at the contents, he said... it's more like a... love letter."

Zhang Jingwei raised his eyes and held out his hand: "Let me see it."

Qian Ming quickly handed over the letter. Just as Zhang Jingwei took the letter and was about to unseal the wax seal, the study door was gently pushed open again.

Huangfu Ling entered carrying a bowl of ginseng soup that had clearly just been prepared. Today, she was dressed in a light purple casual dress, without any makeup, and carried the faint sense of estrangement that came with their ongoing cold war. Recently, Zhang Jingwei had been overwhelmed by the serial murder case, leaving early and returning late, and the two had hardly spoken a word to each other; while Huangfu Ling, still troubled by her own issues, had also been somewhat sullen.

She gently placed the ginseng soup on the corner of the desk, her voice calm and revealing little emotion: "My father sent a letter from Yunzhou saying that the Marquis's residence is almost ready. Before the weather gets too cold, we can hold the marriage ceremony in the next few days."

Zhang Jingwei temporarily shifted his attention from the letter, nodded, and said in a somewhat indifferent tone, "I understand. Thank you for your hard work, and please also thank your father-in-law for his thoughtful arrangements."

Huangfu Ling stood quietly for a while, seemingly hesitating about something. She glanced at Zhang Jingwei's obviously unwell complexion and the shadows under his eyes, sighed softly, and the deliberately maintained indifference finally softened a little: "Phew... Qian Ming came back this afternoon and told me that you... experienced some shock on the mountain today, and you're in a bad mood. I... I came to see you." Her concern, in the end, couldn't be contained.

Zhang Jingwei felt a warmth in his heart as he sensed the softening in her tone, but the gloomy mood from the daytime still lingered around him, and he only gave a soft "hmm".

Huangfu Ling took two steps closer and, by the candlelight, could see more clearly the bloodshot eyes and the melancholy between his brows. She couldn't help but ask, "What's wrong? Wasn't the case... almost closed?"

Zhang Jingwei shook his head, wanting to say "no," but his throat felt like it was blocked by something.

Huangfu Ling suddenly noticed that Zhang Jingwei's eyes seemed to be slightly moist. She was slightly startled. In her memory, even when her husband was struggling or exhausted, or even facing life-or-death situations, he was always stubborn and calm, rarely showing such a vulnerable expression. "You..." she hesitated, her voice unconsciously softening, "Why are you crying?"

This question seemed to open a floodgate. Zhang Jingwei's emotions, which he had been holding back, suddenly burst forth. He abruptly raised his head, looked at his wife, his eyes filled with confusion, self-blame, and deep sorrow, his voice choked with barely suppressed sobs: "I...I think...I did something wrong...Lingmei, I think...I really did something wrong..."

After saying that, to Huangfu Ling's astonishment, he stood up like a helpless child, threw himself into her arms, hugged her waist tightly, buried his face in her shoulder, and his shoulders trembled slightly.

Huangfu Ling was completely stunned. Since their marriage, she had never seen Zhang Jingwei so distraught. After the initial stiffness, she felt the trembling of her husband's body and the unspoken weight in his arms, and her heart softened instantly, melting completely. She instinctively raised her hand, somewhat clumsily but tenderly patting his back, and whispered, "What...what happened? Don't worry, tell me slowly, I'm here."

This reassurance seemed to give Zhang Jingwei an outlet for his emotions. Maintaining his dependent posture, he intermittently recounted the story of the Plum Blossom Taoist and the Bai family, the tragedy of the Hu sisters, the disappearance of the Chang brothers, Hu Sheng's evil deeds, the Plum Blossom Taoist's obsessive revenge, and his ultimately tragic and resolute death… along with the shock of witnessing everything today, his anger at the guards' accidental killing, and his powerlessness over the endless sorrow behind the truth—all poured out to Huangfu Ling. At times he was indignant, at times he sighed, and at times he blamed himself for not having foreseen and prevented the final tragedy sooner.

This story lasted for more than an hour. The candles were changed once, and the ginseng soup had long since gone cold. Huangfu Ling listened quietly the whole time. As the story unfolded, her expression changed from surprise to anger to sympathy. Finally, when she heard that the Plum Blossom Taoist had embraced the tombstone and died with a handful of green grass in his hand, her eyes were already red, and tears silently streamed down her face.

After Zhang Jingwei finally finished speaking, the burden in his chest seemed to ease, and his emotions gradually calmed down. Only then did he notice his wife's unusual behavior. He looked up and saw Huangfu Ling's face covered in tears. He panicked and reached out to wipe her tears, saying, "Ling-mei, don't cry... I... I'm alright now."

Huangfu Ling grasped his hand, tears streaming down her face, her voice thick with emotion and tinged with a nasal tone: "So devoted...so full of hardship...they were both women...yet they had such...such..." She seemed unable to find the right words to describe that love that transcended worldly conventions, endured countless trials, and remained steadfast until death, only repeating, "So touching...so tragic..."

Zhang Jingwei had intended to comfort himself, but unexpectedly, he only made his wife burst into tears. He was somewhat amused and touched, and hugged his wife tighter, gently wiping away her tears with his fingertips. His voice returned to its usual gentleness, even carrying a hint of coaxing: "Alright, alright, don't cry, don't cry... Look, I've been comforting you for an hour. Didn't we agree that you would comfort me? How come I'm the one comforting you now?"

Huangfu Ling leaned against him, sobbing, but couldn't help gently punching him, her voice trembling with tears as she scolded, "You...you made it sound so tragic, who wouldn't cry...that Plum Blossom Taoist, and Madam Bai...they're so pitiful...why is this world always so cruel to women..."

Zhang Jingwei stroked her hair, feeling the warmth and reality of the person in his arms. The bone-chilling cold of the day seemed to dissipate somewhat. He sighed softly, "Yes... this world has too much injustice, too much helplessness. Perhaps all we can do is, within our power, to maintain a little more kindness and uphold a little more justice." He paused, looking at the unopened "love letter" on the table, "At least... let the truth be revealed. Let the souls that deserve rest find peace."

Under the candlelight, the couple embraced. The autumn night outside the window was chilly, but in the study, this rare honesty and mutual reliance brought a touch of warmth, gently soothing their weary and sorrowful hearts.