Chapter 25 Paper Cranes
Han Ziheng had drunk a bit too much, and the beautiful woman's face appeared even more beautiful in his blurry vision.
"Zhilan, have a drink with me."
His large hand encircled the beauty's waist, his breath, tinged with the smell of alcohol, spraying onto her snow-white neck.
Zhilan frowned only briefly before quickly concealing it, then smiled and picked up her wine glass.
After a few drinks, Han Ziheng led Zhilan to the soft couch. The light red gauze curtains fell, enveloping the delicate fragrance within.
...
Han Ziheng fell into a deep sleep, snoring loudly, perhaps from drinking too much.
Zhilan quietly observed the sleeping man, thinking: He's sleeping very soundly this time.
She raised her hand and touched the orchid hairpin in her hair. It was a gold-plated copper hairpin, the other end of which was sharpened to a fine point and could be used as a weapon to kill at times.
For example...now.
Her fair, soft fingertips lingered on the cold hairpin tip. Zhilan bit her lip, about to pull the hairpin out, when the man beside her suddenly stopped snoring.
"water--"
The courage I had painstakingly built up vanished like the receding tide, leaving only a disheveled state.
Zhilan hurriedly went to the table to pour tea, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw the servant guarding the outer room peeking in, and her hand trembled slightly.
She thought that once she had lured Han Ziheng into her trap, she would eventually have a chance to strike, but when the moment actually arrived, she realized just how terrified she was.
She wasn't afraid of death, but she knew clearly that she only had one chance, and if she missed it, she would lose her life and never have a second chance.
After serving Han Ziheng half a cup of water, Zhilan lay down beside him and closed her eyes.
She couldn't sleep; the image of her younger brother, who had died tragically under the hooves of a horse, kept replaying in her mind.
Her younger brother was so small; just a short while ago he was sweetly calling her "sister," but when she saw him again, he was covered in blood and lifeless. Her father was going to the capital to file a complaint and disappeared without a trace. Her mother cried until she went blind and hanged herself from the jujube tree in the yard.
She and her younger brother both loved the jujube tree. Every year when the jujubes ripened, she would use a long pole to knock them down, scattering the jujubes all over the ground, some even landing on her brother's tiger-patterned hat. Her brother would always wipe the big, red jujubes on his clothes and give them to her first.
She hated it so much, hated that arrogant and unrestrained face, hated the horse's hooves that rose high and fell heavily.
She didn't go to the capital; she went south first. There, in the misty, rainy water towns, she absorbed a graceful and elegant charm before coming to the capital.
She thought finding the person would be difficult, perhaps she wouldn't find the enemy who ruined her family even when she was old and faded, but she never expected it to be so simple. She even saw the man riding a horse in the street, and no one dared to mess with him.
How come such a person doesn't get their just deserts?
Perhaps arsenic would be safer...
The next morning, the patrons left one after another, and the small buildings along the Xiangsha River fell asleep, with only the faint scent of perfume wafting on the water that was flowing with shimmering gold.
Zhilan couldn't sleep, so she left her fragrant boudoir and stood on the second floor, gazing at the main hall below.
The lobby was quiet, like the bare branches after the abundant fruits of autumn have been plucked, ugly and desolate.
A feeling of disgust welled up inside her. Zhilan turned and went back to her room. Her hand, which was pushing the door open, paused. She looked down at the floor beneath her feet.
It was a paper crane.
The tiny paper crane was more than enough to land quietly in the woman's palm.
Zhilan entered the house holding the paper crane, examined it for a while, and then unfolded it to reveal the writing inside.
The powerful characters exuded a sharp edge, and the content was like a sharp arrow, piercing straight into Zhilan's eyes: I know who you want to kill.
Zhilan instinctively shrank back, and the piece of paper fluttered down.
Her face was deathly pale and her whole body trembled. In that short moment, she thought of many things: Who sent the paper crane? Was it a trick or did they really know what she was thinking? It was Han Ziheng—no, no, it couldn't be him. If it were him, she wouldn't still be here unharmed.
Could it be Hanfang? It's understandable that Hanfang would want to threaten her because she hated her for stealing her thunder, but how did Hanfang know?
Zhilan's mind was in complete turmoil. She clutched her head, large beads of sweat pouring out. It took her a while to pick up the piece of paper and carefully examine it word by word.
She spent several years in the south, where she learned to read and write. Although her handwriting was poor, it was clear that the writing on the paper was done by a man.
Could he be one of Hanfang's patrons?
Zhilan couldn't figure it out. She was in a daze all day. In the evening, she managed to muster the energy to greet the guests. The next day, she overslept.
This time, the paper crane appeared by her window.
Could this paper crane be a living creature that quietly flew in while she was sleeping?
Overwhelmed by fear and confusion, Zhilan even tossed a paper crane into the air, hoping it would fly.
The paper crane slowly fell, and she caught it. When she unfolded it, there were indeed words inside: You will not succeed.
It won't succeed—Zhilan clenched the paper tightly, forgetting even her fear in that instant, only anger remained.
After the anger came the self-loathing and resentment: she was just a cowardly and useless person. Her younger brother was dead, her parents were gone, so why was she the only one who didn't die?
If she had been the one who died under the horse's hooves, perhaps her parents and brother would still be alive and well.
That day, Zhilan thought in a daze: Whoever sent the paper crane, let them be. She only has one life left, it's worthless.
On the third day, when Zhilan unfolded the paper crane, she was surprised to feel a sense of urgency. The contents of the paper made her gasp: I can help you.
"Help me," it said, "help me"—Zhilan paced back and forth in the room, holding the piece of paper, tears streaming down her face without her noticing.
Perhaps because the paper cranes always appeared unexpectedly, Zhilan found it hard to resist trusting the person who wrote them.
With his mysterious and unpredictable nature, perhaps he really can do it?
If it were a lie—ha, I would have said it long ago, she only has a worthless life, what's there to lie about?
Zhilan was eagerly awaiting the fourth paper crane.
And the paper crane, emitting a very faint fragrance, arrived as promised.
...
Qiu Heng sneaked into the small building once again and saw a paper crane that was not folded very skillfully by the window of Zhi Lan's boudoir. She knew that the plan she had been making for many days had taken another step forward.
This time, she didn't leave the paper crane behind, but took the one folded by Zhilan. She opened it when she returned to Lengxiang Residence and found a date.
The date was the key message Zhilan was conveying, while the location was chosen by her.
What she needed Zhilan to do was to get Han Ziheng to that place so that she could complete her plan.
Zhilan—a courtesan who is far too insignificant in the vastness of history—died tragically after failing to assassinate Han Ziheng, thus leaving a trace in the dusty archives.
After arriving in the capital, she slipped out of the Earl's mansion many nights, familiarizing herself with the streets and alleys, the brothels and theaters, until she finally found her.
That day arrived quickly.
Qiu Heng called Fang Zhou to her side and calmly told her, "Fang Zhou, I'm going to avenge my father."
Fangzhou, who diligently prepares delicious food every day, showed no surprise at seeing everyone happily enjoying their snacks.
She raised her hand to wipe away the tears welling up in her eyes and asked Qiuheng, "Miss, what can I do?"
(End of this chapter)
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