Chapter 14: A Memorial for the Late Wife?

In just two months, the entire Jiang residence was overrun with weeds, fallen leaves blanketing the ground. Old furniture lay scattered haphazardly in the courtyard, as if the place had endured a desperate flight from disaster, causing the once-glorious Jiang estate to fall into ruin.

A cold wind swept through, stirring the yellow leaves into a swirling dance, their rustling echoing softly. Two yellow silk lanterns swayed ceaselessly in the breeze. The surrounding darkness was impenetrable, shadows deep and eerie, giving the place the chilling aura of a haunted house.

Huan Tao clutched her lantern tightly, staying close to Gu Nanshu as they moved forward. Suddenly, the light fell upon a pool of blood on the ground. Startled, Huan Tao screamed sharply, nearly leaping up, clutching Gu Nanshu without letting go, her voice trembling as she said, “Th-this blood... Your Highness, maybe we should go back. This place is truly terrifying!”

Gu Nanshu fixed her gaze on the bloodstain, a vivid memory flashing through her mind—the night she died—her heart tightening sharply, palms sweating, her body trembling uncontrollably.

She gripped the lantern firmly, struggling to contain her grief and anger. Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, she carefully balanced her emotions, eventually mastering her fear and calming herself.

In that moment, she understood a truth.

After enduring a terrifying brush with death, as long as one faces reality bravely—accepting it without resistance or rejection, refusing to let it become a burden—perhaps one can gradually emerge from the shadow and find peace within sorrow, thus making it less frightening.

But her heart in the end had died, beyond repair or revival.

After a moment’s pause, Gu Nanshu gently patted Huan Tao’s hand, soothing her softly, “It’s nothing. Don’t be afraid. I died here that night; this is my blood. Let’s go check the kitchen.”

Huan Tao, reassured that it was her mistress’s blood, relaxed slightly, patting her chest.

Unbeknownst to them, countless eyes watched their every move from the darkness above the eaves—they belonged to Lu Heng and his companions.

He faintly caught Gu Nanshu’s words and furrowed his brows deeply. What did she mean by the blood on the ground being hers?

They followed her silently as she made her way to the kitchen, Huan Tao nervously standing guard outside while Gu Nanshu entered with her lantern.

The kitchen looked as if it had been ransacked—broken dishes, coal, scraps of paper scattered across the floor.

Without hesitation, Gu Nanshu searched through the mess for the medicinal herb packets Jiang Mubai had once prepared for her.

She had taken those herbal concoctions for six years without interruption; even on the night she died, she had drunk that soup.

If memory served, there should have been several packets left.

Yet none were found—had the servants discarded them?

Holding the lantern high, she suddenly noticed a tall cabinet tightly shut in the corner. She dragged over a stool, stepped up, and opened the door. Inside lay three packets of Chinese herbs wrapped in leather paper, quietly resting there.

Delighted, she grabbed a packet and tucked it into her bosom before leaving the kitchen.

Seeing her emerge, Huan Tao hurriedly asked, “Your Highness, did you find them?”

“Yes,” Gu Nanshu nodded. “Let’s go to the bedroom.”

“All right.”

Within the eerie, empty mansion, two yellow lanterns illuminated two figures moving through the night like wandering ghosts.

On the rooftop beside Lu Heng, Lie Yan spoke suddenly, “The princess seems to be searching for something. How does she know this place so well?”

Lu Heng tightened his brows, equally curious. As they watched her disappear into the distance, he silently glided across the roof tiles without a sound, using lightness skills to follow, with Lie Yan and Yun Feng close behind.

Arriving at the bedroom, Gu Nanshu took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

A cold gust brushed past, like a soul long confined finally released, settling into calm.

Immediately, a foul stench assaulted their senses, nauseating and overwhelming. Gu Nanshu quickly raised her sleeve to cover her nose, while Huan Tao couldn’t hold back and vomited on the spot, grimacing, “Why are there so many dead rats in here? Your Highness, I’ll wait outside.”

Gu Nanshu nodded solemnly and briskly approached the bed, then climbed onto it.

The bedding reeked of mold and rot, stained with abundant blood. It was clear that her corpse had once been laid upon this bed, and nearby must have lain a male corpse as well, explaining the scandalous whispers throughout the capital about her alleged adultery caught in flagrante.

Jiang Mubai, Jiang Mubai—did your scheming only wait for this day?

Suppressing the peak of her hatred, Gu Nanshu reminded herself to focus on the task at hand, not to let these murky memories cloud her mind or disrupt her resolve.

She narrowed her eyes and suddenly threw back all the bedding, revealing the bed frame. Against the wall was a rectangular section that had been sawed open.

This was the secret compartment she had made to hide her jade hairpin, hoping Jiang Mubai had not taken her belongings.

She opened the compartment, revealing a delicate wooden box inside. Hastily, she took it out and opened it to find the jade hairpin still there.

Relieved, she exhaled deeply. That jade hairpin was tied to her identity—her only secret, one she had once confided to Jiang Mubai.

At that time, he had promised to accompany her in searching for her birth parents, yet after the university entrance exams, he never mentioned it again. It was clear how she was regarded in his heart—never wavering.

“Your Highness, are you done?” Huan Tao’s voice came from outside, urging gently.

Snapping back to the present, Gu Nanshu tucked the wooden box into her bosom, jumped down from the bed, and grabbed the lantern as she stepped out.

“All done. I’ve got everything. Let’s go back.”

“Mm.”

They hurried back the way they came, lanterns swinging, the cold wind stirring the stillness of the courtyard.

As they neared the dog hole, suddenly, the sound of a lock being picked came from the main gate, followed by a creaking as the door was pushed open.

Gu Nanshu and Huan Tao froze in place. Alarmed, Gu Nanshu whispered urgently, “Not good! Someone’s coming. Quickly, put out the lights.”

They hurriedly blew out their lanterns. The night was so silent that the approaching footsteps and flickering light from a lantern could be heard and seen clearly.

Huan Tao stood frozen in fear, whispering, “Your Highness, who would come here at this hour? What do we do now?”

“What else can we do? Hide!”

Grabbing Huan Tao’s hand, Gu Nanshu pulled her toward a large banyan tree not far away. Above them, on the branches, stood Lu Heng, Lie Yan, and Yun Feng.

Lu Heng frowned deeply as he looked down at Gu Nanshu hiding below. He longed to act impulsively, to seize her and confront her face to face to resolve all the doubts plaguing his heart.

This woman had lied to him, claiming she didn’t know Jiang Mubai, yet now she was caught red-handed in the old Jiang residence. He wondered how she would spin this when confronted.

The approaching light grew nearer, revealing the visitor clearly: Jiang Mubai, dressed in a flowing blue robe, his long hair loose, carrying a food box and a lantern, walking toward the pavilion.

Seeing him, Huan Tao whispered nervously, “Your Highness, why would Minister Jiang come here so late at night? What is he doing?”

Gu Nanshu quickly signaled for silence.

Not only Huan Tao but Gu Nanshu herself, as well as those on the tree, were filled with perplexity.

What was Jiang Mubai’s purpose here? Could it be to pay tribute to his deceased wife?