Chapter 67, Sixty-Seven: The Evil Man and His Own
The surroundings were so quiet that time seemed to slow down.
Qin Sihai was about to strike first, but the next second, Zuo Qinghou pulled Qin Sihai's left hand and placed it on his own neck.
The sudden, subtle pulse beneath his palm struck Qin Sihai's guard, seemingly slight, yet like a gentle breeze that could stir up a giant wave.
Zuo Qinghou, completely unconcerned that his lifeline was in the hands of someone he barely knew, said, "Does saying this make you feel any more at ease?"
Qin Sihai had initially thought that beneath Zuo Qinghou's childlike, innocent, and carefree exterior lay the most primal evil in humanity, but now he was temporarily defeated by her frankness, released his grip, and said, "Please speak, young lady."
“I was just a nobody at the Guest House, so they won’t tell me everything about the snuff bottles. But I have to tell you something: thirty years ago, the Guest House helped the righteous people who wanted to get rid of Zhu Yan set a huge fire in the capital. That fire destroyed hundreds of acres of Zhu Yan flowers, but when spring came, the Zhu Yan flowers grew back.” When Zuo Qinghou said this, his eyes were calm and sincere like never before, but his words made people feel as if they had fallen into an ice cave. “Zhu Yan can never be completely eliminated.”
Wu had so many spies in Sui, didn't they know?
There is only one possibility now: someone in Wu knew about it but deliberately concealed it. This perfectly matches his previous guess.
The people of the state of Sui had colluded with the powerful families of the state of Wu.
Zuo Qinghou looked at Qin Sihai's deeply furrowed brows and sighed, "Some people say it's related to the Jiang family's witchcraft. Zhu Yan is linked to the lives of the Jiang family members. As long as the Jiang family members live, Zhu Yan will never die."
Even if this were true, how could the Jiang family be wiped out?
Seeing Qin Sihai's increasingly grim expression, Zuo Qinghou stopped talking about other strange rumors. "The people in the manor have all died once. I don't want them to be in dire straits again, so whatever you want to do, don't use them. That's my only condition."
Qin Sihai didn't entirely believe such a reason, so he asked, "Why are you telling me this? What do you need me to do?"
“There are many things I can’t do, but you are different,” Zuo Qinghou said with an unprecedentedly serious expression, “You can do them.”
He could roughly guess what she was referring to—nothing detrimental to the Regent or Zhu Yan, which was the same thing Qin Sihai wanted to do. However, he did not express his opinion, only saying, "I only want to kill my enemies with my own hands."
Seeing that Qin Sihai was too wary, Zuo Qinghou knew he had to try a different approach, so he didn't say anything more, only saying, "No normal person could accept me saying this so suddenly. So, can you forget about all this tonight and have a good New Year's Eve?"
Qin Sihai nodded. After all, it was New Year's Eve, and he couldn't spoil everyone's fun.
The two sneaked back, and luckily the game of pitch-pot wasn't over yet, so few people noticed they were missing.
Once the game of pitch-pot was over, several maids changed into the costumes of the Qiang people from the north and prepared to dance to their hearts' content. They urged Zuo Qinghou to dance with them.
Zuo Qinghou laughed and scolded, "Knowing I can't do it, you just want to make fun of me!"
Zuo Qinghou took out her morin khuur (horsehead fiddle) and secretly slipped a handbell to Qin Sihai, whispering, "If you don't participate, your uncle will pull you up for a solo performance later."
The butler wiped the grease from his mouth, got up, and loosened his belt.
Zuo Qinghou's eyes gleamed with excitement. She patted Qin Sihai, gesturing for him to look at his uncle.
Not only Zuo Qinghou, but everyone else fell silent, holding their breath and staring intently at their elderly uncle, just like Zuo Qinghou.
The surrounding silence was so profound that one could hear the heartbeat of every person.
Qin Sihai held the unfamiliar handbell and watched coldly like a spectator. He didn't think that an uncle who never put down his pipe could have any good performance, and even if he did, he wasn't interested.
The uncle's withered mouth slowly opened, revealing teeth that were black and yellow from years of smoking tobacco.
—Ermutalinsebolu group Sarahan.
The moment he opened his mouth, Qin Sihai's eyes instantly welled up with tears.
That powerful, deep voice struck Qin Sihai's crown chakra, as if shattering all the buried shadows and gloom. The voice was like an old man who had seen countless people, strolling leisurely in the empty front hall, echoing again and again, observing every guest at the table.
Even though he couldn't understand a single word, Qin Sihai inexplicably thought of his father's broad back, his mother's cooking, and the vultures circling in the sky after the mob, who had been smoking snuff bottles, had taken explosives and perished along with the entire city's soldiers and civilians.
He felt ashamed and embarrassed that he could be so moved by a folk song. But when he looked around, he saw people weeping, some with tears in their eyes, and others softly singing along.
This is more than just a folk song.
This is the hometown and family they finally saw in folk songs, a resonance they experienced after the chaos of snuff bottles.
The chorus grew louder and louder, and Qin Sihai couldn't help but ring his handbell. Perhaps Zuo Qinghou really wasn't lying; protecting this only paradise was her only condition.
Someone started it, and everyone got up and danced around the campfire.
Qin Sihai had never danced before, but fortunately the steps were simple, and he learned them at a glance. Qin Sihai had also never held anyone's hand before, but "fortunately," Zuo Qinghou and the young man next to him were very familiar with each other and immediately took his hand.
Everyone played and joked around until midnight.
Zuo Qinghou went to digest his food after eating too much. Qin Sihai remembered that when he was organizing the classics, he found that there used to be a large patch of copper grass flowers growing by the Guanshan Road. Copper grass flowers are common wildflowers in the mountains, but large patches of copper grass flowers only grow on copper and gold mines, which may indicate that there are mineral deposits near Guanshan Road.
Qin Sihai hurriedly went to the study to find the ancient book and knocked on Zuo Qinghou's door.
No one answered the door.
Qin Sihai was a little puzzled. Had she fallen asleep after only a short while? Undeterred, Qin Sihai knocked again.
No one answered the door.
"Strange, the maid said she went back to her room, but why is no one there?" Qin Sihai thought to himself, but then he thought he could tell her tomorrow. Just as he was about to turn around and leave, a faint groan came from inside the door.
That groan, accompanied by the sound of wood being struck, was definitely not a pleasant sound.
Qin Sihai sensed something was wrong, but out of courtesy, he knocked on the door again and called out loudly, "Miss Zuo, are you alright?"
"Come in."
Qin Sihai did not hesitate and broke down the door.
A delicate fragrance wafted over.
In the dim candlelight, Zuo Qinghou was seen pressed tightly against the bedpost in a painful posture, his forehead covered with blood and sweat.
Qin Sihai was slightly startled, thinking a villain had broken in, but then Zuo Qinghou roared, "Lock the door!"
Qin Sihai locked the door and went closer to see what was happening. He found that Zuo Qinghou was tied to the bedpost with hemp rope. Just as he was about to reach out to untie the rope, he discovered that the end of the rope was in Zuo Qinghou's hand.
Zuo Qinghou, panting heavily, slammed against the bedpost, "Tie...it up."
He should have realized the moment he stepped in that this smell, this state of mind, was typical of the people in the Wu Kingdom prisons—snuff bottle users.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
