Chapter Fourteen: Power and Prestige

The young man kept his head lowered, refusing to answer.

Lu Ying turned to look at the two dignitaries.

The middle-aged nobleman in elegant attire furrowed his brows and raised his voice, "Answer her!"

Startled, the young man finally stammered, "M-my surname is Zhou."

Lu Ying nodded, then asked, "Master Zhou, are you by any chance skilled in martial arts?"

At these words, the young man’s face turned ashen. He jerked his head up and glared at Lu Ying, his voice trembling with rage, "Nonsense! You venomous woman, you’re trying to frame me!" She had questioned him directly about his skill in martial arts—wasn’t this a clear implication of murder?

But Lu Ying only curled her lips. Dropping to one knee, she seized the young man’s hands, pointing at the thick calluses on his fingers. "What are these, Master? No one gets such calluses from mere writing!"

The young man’s face went pale.

He opened his mouth to defend himself, but Lu Ying’s voice rose again, this time pointing at his shoes. "This is the countryside, and there was a heavy rain just the day before. Everyone’s shoes are covered in mud, yet only Master Zhou’s footwear is muddy at the soles but spotless above. It appears Master Zhou excels not only in martial prowess but also in light-footed techniques!"

None of the young men present had servants to carry their belongings; all had walked here themselves. As Lu Ying spoke, everyone’s gaze shifted to the group of youths. Indeed, all their shoes bore traces of mud—except for the young man surnamed Zhou, whose shoes were clean.

As his face grew even whiter, Lu Ying stood up. Fixing her gaze on him, she spoke slowly, "Actually, these two points are secondary. The most important thing is this: just now, on Lord Qiu’s right hand, I found a character written in blood."

At this, the young man screamed, "Impossible! I stabbed him in the heart—he died instantly—"

He stopped short!

His face blanched, his mouth gaped wide. In an instant, all eyes were upon him—some shocked, some cold, some filled with hatred, others bewildered.

He stared, unable to utter a sound.

Under Lu Ying’s relentless questioning and accusation, he had panicked. In his haste to defend himself, he had let the truth slip.

After a moment of silence, a buzz of voices erupted all around.

Finally, the truth was revealed. Lu Ying closed her mouth and felt a sudden weakness wash over her. In truth, she had only suspected the young man. The subsequent evidence had been forcibly pieced together. If this trick hadn’t worked, she had more to try. Fortunately, it had succeeded on the first attempt.

She had done it. She was safe, and so was her younger brother.

Amidst the commotion, Lu Ying felt a sudden warmth—her brother had thrown his arms tightly around her. She wrapped her arms back around him. Before she could speak, a voice sounded from behind, "Miss, my master requests your presence."

Her master? Lu Ying turned and tried to move, only to discover her legs were weak as if made of mud. Seeing this, the messenger smiled and did not hurry her.

After a quarter of an hour, when she had recovered somewhat, Lu Ying followed the young man toward the carriages.

When they reached the carriage, the messenger bowed toward it and said softly, "Master, the Lady Lu is here."

A gentle, cultured voice replied from within, "Let her in."

The youth turned to her. "Please, miss, step inside."

Lu Ying responded softly and, with her head bowed, approached, lifted the curtain, and climbed into the carriage. Immediately, a fresh, pleasant scent, reminiscent of green grass and spring breeze, enveloped her.

She sat primly in a corner with her hands on her knees, not daring to lift her eyes until the cultured voice spoke again, "Raise your head."

Lu Ying obeyed.

At her first glance, she quickly turned away, averting her gaze.

Just that one look was enough to evoke an instinctive fear from deep within her soul. Lu Ying had always considered herself cold and composed, believing that after all her hardships, nothing could shake her. Yet in this moment, she dared not linger on his face.

The youth seemed accustomed to people’s reactions. He smiled gently and asked, "That boy—he’s your brother?"

"Yes," she replied.

"…What a pity."

A pity? Why would he say that?

Lu Ying was taken aback and finally turned to look at him again. This time, she found she could meet his eyes. Lowering her gaze, she said softly, "I do not understand your meaning, master."

"You don’t?" He chuckled quietly. "You may go."

Ah? "Yes."

Lu Ying climbed down from the carriage.

Watching her retreating figure, the nobleman inside closed his eyes. The youth approached, glanced around, and whispered, "Master, the plan failed. What now?"

Behind the fluttering curtain, the aristocrat—strikingly handsome, his features both deep and radiant—curved his lips in a smile, revealing two faint dimples. "It was my mistake in choosing people… In that case, we shall turn misfortune to our advantage."

His eyelids lowered, lips curling up. He spoke softly, "She is called Lu Ying? Interesting. Send her a copy of 'The Doctrine of the Mean.' Tell her she has surprised me." For some reason, the last four words struck the youth as oddly phrased.

Just as the youth was about to leave, the nobleman added, "Give her this as well."

Receiving the exquisite wooden box, the youth hesitated. "But master, wasn’t this phoenix pendant shattered long ago? Even if it’s been pieced together, it’s no longer whole. You want to give this away?"

The nobleman’s lips curved. "I know it’s broken."

"Then…?"

"She has ruined such an important matter for me—should I not give her a fright in return?"

At this, the youth nodded and bowed repeatedly. "Of course, of course, absolutely!"

With that, he hurried off at a run.