Catching mice
The candlelight inside the room was dim and yellow, and the bronze mirror on the dressing table reflected a pale, sickly face. Cong Yan sat blankly in front of the mirror, lost in thought.
A knock came at the door, and the long eyelashes of the beauty in the mirror trembled as she finally came to her senses.
As she opened the door, Zhu Qinghe, clutching a pillow, smiled warmly and friendly: "Sister Cong, there's a big rat in my room, it's so scary! Can I sleep with you?"
Cong Yan was somewhat surprised, but she still made way for her and let her in.
Zhu Qinghe shrugged and complained, "The Bamboo Stone Academy isn't as good as people say. The accommodations are terrible. There are even rats, and they're huge!"
Zhu Qinghe gestured exaggeratedly, her face contorted with an indescribable expression of disgust. Cong Yan was amused by her, and the worry between her brows dissipated considerably.
“You certainly didn’t bribe the old woman who assigned the courtyard houses,” Cong Yan said.
Zhu Qinghe looked on with innocent confusion: "But I've already paid the tuition, haven't I? The headmaster said that the school's dormitories are free to live in."
Cong Yan shook her head and laughed at her naivety: "Although the dormitories are free to live in, the conditions vary. If you don't make arrangements, you naturally won't get a good room."
"Oh, I didn't know there was such a thing." Zhu Qinghe's face fell, looking dejected. "I didn't know that at all."
Cong Yan sighed: "You'll see in time. If you want to survive here, just saying hello isn't enough."
In just a few words, the two had become good friends. Cong Yan had been treated coldly these past few days, and Zhu Qinghe's appearance undoubtedly brought her sunshine-like warmth.
She seemed to see her former self, who knew nothing, in her, and naturally felt a sense of closeness, so she shared all the lessons she had learned here with her.
After washing up, the two lay in bed chatting. Zhu Qinghe asked casually, "Sister Cong, I heard them say today that you and Fang Xiaoguo seemed to have a pretty good relationship before."
Cong Yan seemed to be stung by that name, a clear pain flashing in her eyes, but she quickly concealed it with a nonchalant air: "We've only met a few times, we're not that close."
Zhu Qinghe's long eyelashes fluttered, and a knowing look flashed in her almond-shaped eyes. However, she did not continue the topic, but yawned and said, "I'm so sleepy, Sister Cong, let's go to sleep."
The candle went out, plunging the room into darkness. Soon after, the sound of even breathing could be heard.
The situation was far from peaceful for Shen Wumei. On the communal bed, Shen Wumei stood on the backs of several young men piled together, her tone calm and even somewhat leisurely: "Why aren't you sleeping so late? Is something the matter?"
The three men, forced into a human pyramid, struggled and pried at Shen Wumei's feet, but still couldn't break free. The one at the bottom, enraged, bared his teeth and said, "You poor, pathetic loser, how dare you hit me? Do you know who I am?"
This was the first time Shen Wumei had ever heard someone call him a "poor, run-down wretch" since he was born; it was quite a novel experience.
He scoffed, "I don't care who you are." Then he bent down, and a strong force came from his back, pressing the three of them even lower. The one who had been so arrogant just moments before rolled his eyes and couldn't utter a single word.
Shen Wumei's eyes were cold and deep. He had long expected that these people would not be honest. They must have done the same thing to Fang Xiaoguo before. They must have no good intentions for sneaking here at night.
What a coincidence, he was right there waiting for them. Compared to Zhu Qinghe's "gentle" approach to probing, he preferred this direct method.
And here we are, the clues have come to us on their own.
"Wow, Lord Shen, you haven't slept all night?" The next morning, Zhu Qinghe sat down opposite Shen Wumei and was startled by the huge dark circles under his eyes.
Shen Wumei listlessly poked at the steamed buns on her plate: "I was catching mice. By the way, do you have any leads?"
Zhu Qinghe nodded: "Cong Yan definitely has a special relationship with Fang Xiaoguo. I suspect that Fang Xiaoguo's death is more or less related to her."
Shen Wumei glanced at her, and Zhu Qinghe waved her hand, "I'm not saying she's the murderer, but I feel she has a very strong sense of guilt about Fang Xiaoguo's death."
It's like...
“It’s as if this whole thing started because of her,” Shen Wumei replied.
Zhu Qinghe's eyes lit up. "Yes, that's exactly what I mean. Lord Shen understands me."
Shen Wumei continued, "I also discovered this last night."
"What?" Zhu Qinghe's eyes widened.
"Cousin Qinghe, Lord Shen, what a coincidence, you're having breakfast too?" Cheng Lang's voice came from behind Shen Wumei, and his face darkened.
Zhu Qinghe looked up and waved happily, "Cousin, there's a seat here."
The cafeteria was just starting to fill up, and there weren't many seats left. It was obvious that Cheng Lang had finished getting his food and was looking for a seat, so Zhu Qinghe took the opportunity to do him a favor.
When his gaze fell on Shen Wumei's face, he noticed that he didn't seem very happy.
Zhu Qinghe was still a little puzzled as to why Lord Shen and Cousin Cheng Lang didn't get along so well.
Logically speaking, the two of them didn't know each other at all before, it's really incomprehensible.
Cheng Lang sat down next to Zhu Qinghe and greeted them, "Good morning, both of you."
"It's getting late," Shen Wumei said coolly. "I usually finish my training by this time."
"Help!" Zhu Qinghe hurriedly tried to change the subject, but Cheng Lang, who had a good temper, ignored the hostility in Shen Wumei's tone.
Instead, he continued, "Lord Shen, did Hao Ziming and the others come to see you last night?"
Shen Wumei glanced at him again: "How did you know?"
Zhu Qinghe interjected, asking, "Who is Hao Ziming?"
After chatting for a while, Zhu Qinghe learned that while she and Cong Yan were having a late-night chat last night, Shen Wumei was also busy, and her conversation was even more exciting and stimulating than hers.
And this Hao Ziming is the leader of the group of boys who have been bullying Fang Xiaoguo.
Zhu Qinghe put down her chopsticks. "No wonder you said you caught mice last night. So that's what you were talking about."
"Now that you've caught him, have you gotten a lot of valuable information out of him?"
Shen Wumei glanced at Cheng Lang, and Zhu Qinghe realized that it made sense; Cheng Lang's cousin was still there, so they couldn't discuss the case.
Cheng Lang was also perceptive; he quickly finished his breakfast and hurried off to class.
No wonder he's the most promising candidate to win the championship this year; he's certainly hardworking.
"Lord Shen, are we still going to class later?" Zhu Qinghe asked.
"I'm not going." Shen Wumei waved her hand. "I have other plans for today."
Zhu Qinghe was initially quite happy to not have to go to class, but she didn't expect that Shen Wumei's other arrangements would actually be—
“Lord Shen,” Zhu Qinghe said dejectedly, carrying a bucket of swill, “even though I’m not a permanent staff member, you can’t treat me like this.”
"We're teammates now, after all."
Shen Wumei carefully avoided the garbage can and gently patted her shoulder: "Who told you to be good at this? You can't expect me to go to the kitchen and chat with those old ladies to get information out of them, can you?"
Zhu Qinghe was shocked: "In your eyes, this is all I'm good for?"
Shen Wumei: "Well, there's nothing I can do about it. It's your fault for not being able to figure out who the murderer is."
Zhu Qinghe was speechless: "Fortune telling only predicts the future, not the past. Don't you understand?"
"So, since you can't figure it out, just try to get information out of me."
Zhu Qinghe was convinced, picked up the slop bucket, put on the kitchen auntie's uniform, and left. After a few steps, she turned back, shoved her face in front of Shen Wumei, and said in a harsh voice, "More money, please."
Shen Wumei crossed her arms and watched her angry back with a smile in her eyes.
Zhu Qinghe pulled down her white cloth hat with blue floral patterns a little and dutifully poured the swill from the swill bucket next to the vegetable garden.
"Hey, do you even know how to do housework?" an old woman shouted in a shrill voice.
Zhu Qinghe hadn't reacted yet when an older woman dressed in the same clothes as her rushed in front of her. She looked down and then saw her.
"This swill is for feeding pigs, why are you dumping it here?"
Zhu Qinghe pointed to the wooden sign next to the vegetable garden, which read "Swill Disposal Area".
The old woman glared at her, snatched the slop bucket from her hand (there was still some left in it), and said, "You're new here, aren't you? Being young is no good. You're clumsy and don't know anything."
Zhu Qinghe followed the old woman to the pigpen and watched her mix swill into the pig feed. She said, "Auntie, I'm sorry, I'm new here and I really don't know much about these things."
The old woman glanced at her and said, "Look at your delicate skin, what are you doing here?"
Zhu Qinghe looked heartbroken: "I was originally a maid in a wealthy family, the kind who grew up with the young lady. Who knew that I would get into some trouble a few days ago and be sold off."
"If I hadn't run away, I don't know where I would have been sold to." Zhu Qinghe's eyes were red and filled with tears, making her look truly pitiful.
The old woman sighed, "She's had a hard life too."
"Alright, you'll stay with me for the next few days."
"Thank you, ma'am. What's your surname?" Zhu Qinghe asked.
“What’s the big deal about price? We’re all just ordinary people. My surname is Ge, you can just call me Aunt Ge.”
"Hello, Aunt Ge, my name is Qingqing." Zhu Qinghe introduced herself readily.
After spending the morning in the kitchen, Zhu Qinghe discovered that Aunt Ge was actually a good person, the kind of person who had a sharp tongue but a kind heart.
Although they may say unpleasant things at times, they don't have bad intentions. It's much more comfortable to be around this kind of person than to deal with those who are hypocritical and scheming.
"Aunt Ge, I heard that someone died at our academy recently, and not just one."
Aunt Ge picked through the green beans and sneered, "An eye for an eye, I guess."
"Oh?" Zhu Qinghe curiously leaned forward. "What do you mean, Auntie?"
Looking into Zhu Qinghe's bright eyes, Aunt Ge glanced around and lowered her voice: "Let me tell you, that Miss Xu who died later was no good person. She killed more than just that Fang girl."
Zhu Qinghe's fingers trembled, and the green beans in her hand fell outside the basin, getting covered in dust.
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