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As the evening snow fell gently onto the green tiles, Ruan Xiwen reached out and caught a snowflake, watching it melt into a water droplet in her palm.

For the first time in twenty years, she didn't need a wheelchair. Dressed in a bright red wedding gown, she stood under the eaves, the excruciating pain in her knees feeling like countless steel needles piercing her.

"Xiwen, it's time for the wedding ceremony." Yuwen Chang'an brought over the nuptial wine, his eyes crinkling with a smile.

He shaved his beard today, revealing the handsome features of the former third-ranked scholar.

Ruan Xiwen suddenly grabbed his wrist: "The food is poisoned."

Yuwen Chang'an's hand trembled, and wine splashed onto his sleeve, leaving a dark stain.

He looked down at the plate of ginger and vinegar fish on the table, which had barely been touched; the fish's eyes had turned an eerie grayish-white.

“I know.” He actually laughed and took out an oil paper packet from his pocket. “When the cook sent by Zhuang Shiyang was cooking, I saw him sprinkle the medicine powder with his own eyes.”

Ruan Xiwen's pupils shrank sharply: "Then why..."

“Because this is the first time you’ve waited for me.” Yuwen Chang’an unfolded the oil paper package, inside which was half a moldy dragon and phoenix wedding cake. “Twenty years ago, on the day I went to the capital to take the imperial examination, you said you would wait for me under the old locust tree to come back.”

The wind and snow outside the window grew fiercer, causing the wedding candles to flicker unpredictably.

Ruan Xiwen looked at the man she had waited for half her life, then suddenly snatched the wine glass and drank it all in one gulp.

The wine carried a familiar bitter almond flavor as it slid down my throat, exactly the same as the medicinal soup my mother drank before she passed away.

“Fool.” She coughed and wiped the wine stains from her lips. “I didn’t wait for you back then because Zhuang Shiyang locked me in the cellar.”

Yuwen Chang'an's smile froze.

He smashed the wine glass, oblivious to the shards cutting his fingers: "So that's what those blood-written words under the tree..."

“I carved it with a hairpin.” Ruan Xiwen pulled open her collar, revealing an old scar below her collarbone, shaped like half a locust leaf. “After Zhuang Shiyang found it, he branded it with a red-hot jade pendant.”

Suddenly, the sound of crunching snow being trampled came from outside the courtyard.

Yuwen Chang'an quickly shielded Ruan Xiwen behind him, but he staggered and spat out a mouthful of black blood.

He forced himself to light the dragon and phoenix candles on the incense table, and with trembling hands grabbed the red silk ribbon and stuffed it into Ruan Xiwen's hand.

"The wedding ceremony..." Blood kept spilling from the corner of his mouth, "...the promised three bows..."

Ruan Xiwen's knees made a sound of strain.

She gripped the red silk tightly, kneeling on the prayer mat at the same time as Yuwen Chang'an.

With the first bow, Yuwen Chang'an's forehead slammed heavily onto the ground; by the second bow, his back could no longer straighten; and when the couple bowed to each other, he threw himself into Ruan Xiwen's arms.

"Chang'an?" Ruan Xiwen touched his back and found it covered in cold sweat.

“Actually…” Yuwen Chang’an smiled weakly, “I know there’s poison in the wine…”

He laboriously pulled a brocade pouch from his sleeve. "Back then... the sachet you gave me... I've always..."

Ruan Xiwen trembled as she untied the brocade pouch. Inside were dried locust blossoms and half a broken hairpin, the very hairpin she had used to carve words in the cellar years ago.

The courtyard gate suddenly burst open.

Zhuang Shiyang arrived in the snow wearing a fox fur coat, followed by more than a dozen guards with knives.

He watched the newlyweds embrace, a twisted sense of pleasure flashing in his eyes.

"My wife is newly married, and I have come to offer my congratulations." He kicked over the wedding candles, and flames instantly leaped up the gauze curtains.

Ruan Xiwen shielded Yuwen Chang'an with her body, her blood-stained wedding dress spread out on the snow: "Back then, you said you loved me, but it was like smashing my knees with a hammer?"

"That was to keep you here!" Zhuang Shiyang suddenly flew into a rage, drawing a guard's sword and slashing at the nuptial wine pot. "My father looks down on me, my colleagues laugh at me, even Pei Dafu treats me like a dog! Only you..."

The knife tip lifted Ruan Xiwen's chin. "Only you look at me like you're looking at someone else."

With his last ounce of strength, Yuwen Chang'an grabbed Zhuang Shiyang's leg: "Xiwen, run..."

Before he could finish speaking, Zhuang Shiyang's knife had already pierced his back.

Ruan Xiwen suddenly burst into laughter, a laugh more mournful than the wind and snow.

She pulled out a dagger hidden in her sleeve and plunged it into her heart: "This stab is to repay your love!"

Zhuang Shiyang rushed to stop her, but the dagger veered off course and slashed her shoulder.

Blood gushed out, drawing eerie patterns on the snow.

The fire grew larger and larger, and the heat wave swirled with snowflakes, forming a vortex.

Zhuang Shiyang staggered backward, watching Ruan Xiwen crawl back to Yuwen Chang'an's side, the two of them lying in front of the sea of ​​fire with their fingers intertwined.

"The antidote..." He took out a porcelain bottle and tried to throw it over, but it was blown back by the hot wind. "Take the antidote!"

Ruan Xiwen took one last look at the wind and snow outside the courtyard gate.

In a daze, she seemed to see herself twenty years ago, standing under a locust tree with an oil-paper umbrella, waiting for the young man who would never return.

When Zhuang Hanyan rode her horse into the courtyard, flames were already licking the roof beams.

The moment she jumped off the horse, she saw her mother crawling out of the fire, trailing blood, the hem of her wedding dress burned down to just charred strips.

"Mother!" She rushed over and hugged Ruan Xiwen, only to find that her mother's knee was broken again, this time from walking too much with her.

Ruan Xiwen's icy hand touched her cheek: "It's so good... that it was you I saw last..."

Her gaze passed over her daughter's shoulder, as if looking at some phantom, "The year you were born... I was like this too... I held you once..."

Zhuang Hanyan's tears fell onto her mother's face.

She remembered what Granny Chen had said: that she had been falsely accused of being a ghost child right after she was born, and that her mother had to kneel all over the entire mansion to save her life.

“I’ll carry you to find a doctor…” She tried to carry Ruan Xiwen on her back, but her hands were covered in sticky blood.

"Listen to me..." Ruan Xiwen grabbed her collar, "Zhuang Shiyang's study... under the floor tiles..."

A violent cough interrupted her, "The mahogany box... the truth about your birth..."

A loud explosion suddenly erupted from the fire, and the beams and pillars collapsed with a crash.

Amidst the flying sparks, Zhuang Hanyan saw that Yuwen Chang'an's body had been engulfed by flames, and he seemed to be clutching something in his hand.

"Mother, let's go..." She reached out to hug her mother again.

Ruan Xiwen shook her head, took out a blood-stained sachet from her bosom, and handed it to her: "Go find... Su Ning... he will protect you."

Her pupils began to dilate. "In my life... I'm most sorry for..."

Before he could finish speaking, the scarred hand suddenly fell to the ground.

Zhuang Hanyan clung tightly to her mother's still-warm body, letting out a soft, animal-like whimper.

The snow fell heavier and heavier, gradually covering Ruan Xiwen's peaceful face.

At the gate of the Zhuang mansion, the dagger in Zhuang Hanyan's hand was still dripping blood.

That was something she pulled from her mother's heart, coated with poison administered by Zhuang Shiyang.

"Open the door!" She slashed at the vermilion door with her sword, the blade cutting off the Pixiu pattern on the door knocker.

The footsteps of the city's garrison came from both ends of the long street.

Zhuang Hanyan seemed not to hear and continued carving on the door panel with her knife.

Amidst the flying sawdust, the character "弑" (shì, meaning "to kill") gradually took shape.

“Mrs. Su.” Fu Yunxi’s voice sounded from behind.

She slowly turned around and saw her former ally dressed in royal guard armor, with his sword already drawn from its sheath.

Three hundred archers stood in formation at the alley entrance, their arrows gleaming coldly in the snow.

"Get out of the way." Zhuang Hanyan's voice was so hoarse it sounded inhuman.

Fu Yunxi's sword remained motionless: "The imperial decree ordered me to protect Lord Zhuang in revising the 'True Record of the Pei Party Case'."

"A true account?" She suddenly burst into laughter, her laughter startling birds into flight. "He killed my mother and poisoned my father. Is this the true account you wanted?"

An arrow pierced the air, grazed her ear, and struck the door panel.

Fu Yunxi turned around abruptly and shouted, "Who fired the arrow!"

Zhuang Shiyang's voice drifted out from under the door: "Lord Fu, His Majesty said... kill without mercy."

Zhuang Hanyan suddenly rushed towards the gate.

Fu Yunxi's sword tip pressed against her heart, but stopped abruptly just before piercing her outer garment, the blade picking out the blood-stained sachet.

"The mahogany box..." he said quickly in a low voice, "Did your mother have it...?"

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Zhuang Hanyan pushed him aside and aimed the dagger straight at Zhuang Shiyang behind the door.

Just as the blade was about to pierce through, the gate slammed shut, and the dagger struck the door stud with a clang.

Fu Yunxi hugged her from behind: "You can't kill him! The emperor needs him to identify him..."

"Then who will pay for my mother's life!" Zhuang Hanyan slashed his cheek with a knife. "You? Lord Fu?"

Blood dripped down Fu Yunxi's chin onto the snow.

He released his grip, suddenly ripped open his armor to reveal the brand on his chest, the incomplete character "阮" (Ruan) was bleeding.

"Three months." His voice was so soft only she could hear it. "Give me three months..."

The torches of the city's defense troops illuminated half of the street.

As Zhuang Hanyan watched Fu Yunxi being escorted away by soldiers, she suddenly picked up a bow and arrow from the ground and shot an arrow towards the highest window of the Zhuang mansion, which was Zhuang Shiyang's study. The figure behind the window paper hurriedly dodged, knocking over a lampstand.

Soon, Su Ning arrived with a team of people and looked at the heartbroken Zhuang Hanyan with helplessness.

The moment the flames shot up, Zhuang Hanyan seemed to see her mother standing in the snow, smiling at her.

Then Su Ning ordered his servants to place Ruan Xiwen's body on the carriage...

"Mother..." she murmured, kneeling in the snow, "I'll take you home..."

The sound of a night watchman's clapper could be heard in the distance.

It was past midnight, and the snow was falling heavier and heavier, gradually covering the bloodstains and tear stains on the ground.

……

Then Zhuang Hanyan was arrested and imprisoned by the Dali Temple for assassinating a high-ranking official.

The chill in the dungeon seeped into his bones. Zhuang Hanyan huddled on the straw mat, staring at the bloodstains on her wrists from the shackles.

Three days ago, Zhuang Hanyan was arrested by the Dali Temple yamen runners and then imprisoned in this stone chamber with bronze lamps hanging in it.

"Awake?" Fu Yunxi's voice came from the shadows.

He wasn't wearing his official robes today; his plain white long gown made the dark circles under his eyes even more noticeable. He was holding a bowl of steaming medicine in his hand.

Zhuang Hanyan lunged forward, the shackles rattling loudly: "Let me out!"

"This stab will kill you." Fu Yunxi easily dodged her attempt to snatch the dagger, her fingertips pressing against the bandage on her shoulder. "Zhuang Shiyang coated the arrowhead with a poisonous substance; if I hadn't acted in time..."

"Then you should let me kill him even more!" Zhuang Hanyan roared as she ripped off the gauze, revealing a wound that had turned an eerie purplish-black. "My mother's body is not yet cold..."

Suddenly, there was a knock on the bronze door.

Fu Yunxi quickly covered her mouth, only releasing her when the footsteps outside the door faded away: "Do you want everyone to know that Pei Dang's adopted daughter is still alive?"

Zhuang Hanyan's pupils suddenly contracted.

Goddaughter? The title pierced my mind like an icicle.

Fu Yunxi took out the file from her sleeve and unfolded it. Under the candlelight, it was clearly Pei Dafu's own handwriting: "[In the twelfth month of the eighteenth year of Jinghe, Zhuang's daughter was adopted as a concubine, and a golden phoenix hairpin was bestowed upon her as proof]."

The hairpin drawn next to her was exactly the same as the one her mother had given her before she died.

"Impossible..." Her voice trembled, "My mother never..."

“Of course Madam Ruan was unaware of this.” Fu Yunxi used a dagger to pry open the condensed film on the surface of the medicine. “This is proof that Zhuang Shiyang presented you to Pei Dafu. You had just turned one year old that year, and Pei Dafu saw you at the full moon banquet.”

The medicine splashed onto Zhuang Hanyan's hand, leaving red marks.

She suddenly remembered the baby dress in the secret compartment of the Zhuang family ancestral hall; the cuffs were indeed embroidered with the three small characters "Bestowed by the Pei Family" in gold thread.

"So this is your reason for stopping me?" She gripped the chains of her shackles tightly. "Because I'm just as filthy as you?"

Fu Yunxi suddenly grabbed her chin and forced her to drink the medicine. The bitter taste instantly filled her mouth: "Because you are dead now, Madam Ruan's revenge will be lost forever."

He released his grip, revealing a secret letter hidden in his sleeve: "This morning, Zhuang Shiyang presented the Emperor with the 'Secret Records of the Pei Party,' in which all the evidence against him has been transformed into my handwriting."

Zhuang Hanyan coughed violently, and the medicine mixed with blood dripped onto her clothes.

She saw the imperial annotation on the secret letter: "Fu Qing is commendable for his loyalty and bravery, but he is too deeply involved. He is hereby suspended from his post and investigated."

"Three months." Fu Yunxi wiped the medicine stains from her lips. "Give me three months to plan, or else..."

He lifted his left sleeve, revealing a deep, bone-revealing wound on his wrist. "This is the consequence of disobeying the imperial decree."

Ruan Xiwen's grave is hidden deep in a mass grave, without even a proper tombstone.

Zhuang Hanyan knelt in front of the mound of earth, her fingertips digging deep into the frozen soil.

Behind him, Fu Yunxi was burning paper money, and the firelight illuminated the new black iron token he wore at his waist, which was the pass for the joint trial by the three judicial departments.

"Lord Wen left me a clue before he died." Fu Yunxi poured wine in front of the grave. "He said that the Pei Party's true wealth wasn't in the account books, but in..."

He looked at the golden phoenix hairpin in Zhuang Hanyan's hair, "on a woman who has been branded."

Zhuang Hanyan turned her head sharply: "My mother does have a brand on her back."

“It’s not Madam Ruan.” Fu Yunxi took out half a piece of broken jade from her bosom. “It’s the twelve beauties trained by Pei Dafu back then, and they have treasure maps tattooed on their bodies.”

The broken jade is inscribed with the words "At the third quarter of midnight, the shadow of the northern gate moves," which was a gift from Wen Mingchang on his deathbed.

The cold wind swirled the ashes from the paper.

Zhuang Hanyan suddenly yanked open Fu Yunxi's collar, revealing the "Ruan" brand on his chest: "So you approached my mother also for..."

“This is what I’m looking for.” Fu Yunxi pointed to the peculiar patterns on the edge of the brand. They weren’t characters or strokes at all, but miniature mountains and rivers. “Back then, when the imperial prison burned down, only your mother survived out of the Twelve Beauties.”

The hooting of an owl could be heard in the distance.

Zhuang Hanyan emptied the sachet her mother had given her on her deathbed, and a rusty key fell out: "There's a mahogany box under the floor tiles in the Zhuang family's study."

“It’s too late.” Fu Yunxi suddenly grabbed her shoulder. “Zhuang Shiyang burned the study to the ground this morning. He now has an imperial edict. To touch him is treason.”

Zhuang Hanyan grabbed the sacrificial knife in front of the grave and slashed her palm, letting the blood drip onto her mother's grave: "I, Zhuang Hanyan, hereby swear that I will make Zhuang Shiyang pay for his blood debt! If I break this oath..."

Fu Yunxi's sword suddenly drew, severing a strand of her hair that had been blown away by the wind: "Keep your life to take revenge."

He buried the cut hair in the grave, saying, "What Madam Ruan wanted most was never the red lettering on her tombstone."

……

The flower hall of the Zhuang family mansion was brightly lit.

Zhuang Shiyang was personally serving food to Zhuang Hanyan, the sashimi of perch held between ivory chopsticks was snow-white and translucent.

"Try this pickled celery." He smiled kindly. "It was your favorite when you were little."

Zhuang Hanyan stared at the jade thumb ring on his thumb, which had been taken from Yuwen Chang'an's corpse.

She suddenly used the tip of her chopsticks to pry open the fish's belly, revealing blackened gills inside: "Just like the pufferfish that Dad used to poison Grandfather back then?"

Zhou Ruyin was so frightened that she smashed her wine cup.

Zhuang Shiyang burst into laughter and waved his hand to dismiss those around him: "I am in a good mood today, so I will grant you permission to ask three questions."

"First question," Zhuang Hanyan said, drawing blood-red marks on the table with her fingertip dipped in wine, "Who broke my mother's knee?"

“She did it herself.” Zhuang Shiyang scooped up a spoonful of almond tofu. “I only let people smash the floor tiles, but she insisted on kneeling on the broken porcelain and begging me to let you go.”

"Second question," Zhuang Hanyan snapped a bamboo chopstick in half, "Why did you kill Yuwen Chang'an?"

Zhuang Shiyang suddenly overturned the dining table, the cups and plates smashing loudly on the floor: "Because he touched my things!"

He grabbed Zhuang Hanyan by the neck and then suddenly released her. "One last question."

Zhuang Hanyan reached for the dagger in her sleeve: "What's in the mahogany box?"

The candle flame flickered and burst.

Zhuang Shiyang's expression suddenly became unusually calm: "Your indenture."

He stroked the ring, "After Pei Dafu's death, the person who takes over needs proof."

“Father, you underestimate Su Ning. He will make you wish you were dead.”

"Hmph! Anyone can brag."

“Father, if I hadn’t insisted on finding out the whole truth myself, Su Ning would have already torn you to pieces.”

"..."

Hurried footsteps echoed from under the eaves.

Zhuang Yuchi rushed in, her face flushed: "Father! My sister has been... by that bitch again..."

Before he could finish speaking, Zhuang Hanyan had already pressed a dagger against his throat: "Third Young Master, watch your words."

She whispered in the boy's trembling ear, "About your sister Zhuang Yushan secretly meeting the stable boy in the ancestral hall..."

"You beast!" Zhuang Shiyang grabbed the copper kettle and smashed it.

Zhuang Hanyan dodged aside and pulled Zhuang Yuchi back to the window.

As the boy struggled, he knocked over the display shelf, and a decorative dagger on the wall clattered to the ground.

"Watch out!" Zhuang Hanyan pretended to help, but actually stepped on Zhuang Yuchi's clothes.

The boy staggered and fell, his chest directly into the falling blade.

"Chi'er!" Zhou Ruyin's scream pierced the night sky.

When Zhuang Shiyang rushed over, all he saw was a jet of blood spurting from the dagger through the young boy's chest onto the window paper, resembling a freehand painting of red plum blossoms.

Zhuang Hanyan retreated into the shadows, blood dripping from the tip of the golden phoenix hairpin in her hand.

She watched Zhuang Shiyang pick up the still-breathing Zhuang Yuchi, and watched Zhou Ruyin cry out in heart-wrenching sobs. Suddenly, she remembered her mother's last words: "This capital city is like a pot of 'Fu Shou Quan' (a pot of good fortune and longevity), which looks splendid and prosperous, but inside it has long been pickled by the 'cold pool fragrance' (a metaphor for something that has been thoroughly preserved)."

The sound of the night watchman's clapper could be heard from outside the courtyard.

It was past midnight, and there were still eighty-nine days left until the three-month deadline agreed upon by Fu Yunxi.

At this moment, Zhuang Hanyan also began to regret her actions. If only she had listened to Su Ning's arrangements and dealt with all the scumbags directly, how much happier she would have been.

Perhaps then my mother wouldn't have been killed by Zhuang Shiyang, and she and Yuwen Chang'an would have lived happily ever after.

...(End of chapter)