His Highness Wants to Become a Widower Every Day - Chapter 1.1

Lingfu Temple had been abandoned for many years at the tail end of a wild bamboo forest in the northern suburbs. The ancient trees in front of the temple had jagged, tilting branches and vines. A small young beggar, who was running swiftly toward it to seek shelter for the night, timely stomped his feet to a halt, bent his waist, shrunk his neck, and slipped inside.

Muffled thunder pierced through the sky, illuminating the surroundings in a flash.

The wild grass in the temple courtyard rustled. Walking through it felt as though ghostly hands were caressing one’s entire body. On the stone steps, the Buddha hall’s doors stood open, with half a panel missing and uneven gaps. The small beggar stepped inside. Just as he was debating whether he should go to the entrance of Zuiyun Pavilion again tomorrow morning to beg for some Crystal Dragon and Phoenix Cakes, a salty, damp, and foul stench completely overwhelmed the smell of mold, slapping him right in the face like a crashing wave.

It was the smell of blood!

The small beggar made a swift, decisive judgment to retreat rapidly, but it was already too late. A person falling from the sky crashed right into him, knocking him flat onto his buttocks on the ground. He instantly bared his teeth and grimaced in pain.

“Which dirt grave did you crawl out from, you grandson of a turtle…” He cursed as he lifted his head, but his voice ground to a sudden halt.

The grandson of a turtle was a dead man. His head hung from a white silk noose tied to a crossbeam. His hair was completely cut off, his eyes and nose were entirely missing, and a gruesome, bloody gash was hacked open across his throat. A sudden “whoosh of wind” swept by, and that bloody gash severed completely. The corpse crashed to the ground, while the head still swayed in mid-air, swinging back and forth like a dumbbell.

The “whoosh of wind” clattered against the ground—it was a blood-smeared dagger.

The small beggar’s eyes widened in horror as he saw a fresh candle suddenly flare up with a tseng sound on the offering table ahead. The halo of the lamp was a dim yellow, with dust floating through the air. The old Buddha statue behind the table bore a compassionate expression, but the statue’s body was dripping with words written in fresh blood.

Drip,

A soaked wolf-hair calligraphy brush was tossed onto the ground, rolling with a gulu gulu sound right to the edge of the corpse’s severed neck, leaving a meandering trail of blood droplets. The murderer, who had been standing in the shadows for an unknown amount of time, finally exposed his figure. The white Nuo mask on his face was locked in a wide, laughing expression.

“Ghost… A ghost!” The small beggar’s throat sounded like a fuse being pulled. The area beneath his buttocks felt like a roaring wheel of fire, scraping out a string of sparks as he frantically scrambled backward.

Thunder shattered the sky, and torrential rain poured down violently.

Two men wearing black hats and short shirts burst through the door. The small beggar had sharp eyes and recognized that the newcomers belonged to the Inspectorate Division, who were responsible for catching thieves and capturing murderers. He immediately wailed and threw himself forward, “Officer, a ghost is killing people—ow!”

The man in front shoved him aside, swiftly bypassing the Buddha statue to chase out through the back door. The one left behind to guard the spot identified the corpse that was separated in two places. His face instantly turned as white as a ghostly specter. He wiped his face, his palm completely wet with sweat.

At dusk, a foreign merchant who was drinking wine at Zuiyun Pavilion had openly declared: Emperor Jing’an had suddenly fallen gravely ill in the prime of his life, and no medicine or physician could cure him, all because he had slaughtered his kin and assassinated his father. Having taken the throne through illegitimate means, he had brought down heavenly wrath upon himself.

This kind of “monarch lacking virtue, causing Heaven to strike with lightning” heavenly punishment rhetoric was not particularly new, and it could easily be written off as the “drunken nonsense of an ignorant, foolish commoner.” However, when the merchant was ambushed and abducted by someone while being escorted to the state prefecture by Zuiyun Pavilion guards—and the guards were also brutally murdered—everything changed.

It was an absolute, naked provocation against the monarch. It indicated that someone was taking advantage of the loophole while the dragon body was indisposed to incite floating rumors and weave a conspiracy.

At that time, the Prefectural Governor of Yongzhou immediately ordered strict security at the city gates and a city-wide manhunt. Several squads had kept busy until the middle of the night without any harvest. Who would have thought that the perpetrator was waiting right here, and had even dressed up meticulously—black and vermilion royal insignia patterns, a crown with twelve tassels, the formal ceremonial attire of the Emperor!

The old Buddha statue gleamed with an eerie, weak golden-red light amidst the halo of the lamp, looking like dense clouds of blood clutching poisonous hooks, wishing to gouge open the skin of the high-and-mighty emperor. The sixteen bloody characters on the Buddha’s body were distinct and clear:

“The Emperor of Heaven shines brightly; the Purple Micro Star falls into the dust. The Southern Beach is fully exposed; four suns stand in the sky.”

The rainy night was dark and gloomy. Wrapped in a white robe, the Nuo-masked ghost remained exceptionally agile, sprinting through the forest entirely without hindrance. The Inspectorate official who had chased out from the temple earlier was left far behind him, consistently separated by a fair distance.

At the edge of the bamboo forest lay a wild lake. Passing through the path beside the lake, clusters of fringe trees lined up ahead, sparsely separating the only remaining households in the northern suburbs. They looked like a few scattered embellishments on a snowline, located far away from one another.

It was highly probable that even if someone in a particular household passed away and reached the end of their first seven days of mourning, the neighbors might not even discover that the person next door was dead.

The Nuo-masked ghost’s gaze precisely locked onto the very first small courtyard. The rain poured down in torrents, and the carved characters on the courtyard’s door plaque stood silently beneath the eaves. The Pure Garden (Jing Yuan). He flipped over the wall into the courtyard and headed straight for the main house.

Click.

The room door was nimbly pushed open by a small crack. The Nuo-masked ghost slipped inside sideways. While pulling out a brocade pouch from his bosom, he walked swiftly to the side of the bed. He lifted the bed curtain, intending to stuff the brocade pouch inside. Suddenly, he froze.

The person lying on the bed had opened his eyes.

Shua!

A cold light poured forth. The Nuo-masked ghost’s dagger thrust out like a flash of lightning. At the same time, a chill swept over the back of his neck, and he heard a soft chuckle echo from behind him: “Is it not a joy to have ‘friends’ come from afar?”

Click. The room door closed tightly once again.

The Inspectorate official who had pursued him all the way flipped over the wall into the courtyard, completely drenched from head to toe. He cast a quick glance around: the courtyard was empty, a cassia tree stood silently by the left wall, and beside the tree was an empty vegetable garden enclosed by a fence. The kitchen was built against the right wall, its stove covered with a white cloth. On the steps directly facing the courtyard door stood three rooms, and only the middle main house had its doors and windows unlocked.

This small courtyard was so clean that it lacked any sign of human presence; it must have been left vacant for a long time.

The official ran up the steps and saw several footprints stained with wet mud on the surface of the steps. His expression instantly tightened. He held his breath as he stepped forward, drawing his waist-worn sabre halfway out of its scabbard. Unexpectedly, a light suddenly flared up inside the room.

The room door swung open immediately. The person inside had not anticipated someone standing outside the door and let out a startled shiver. When the official saw this person’s appearance clearly, he could not help but gasp—

She was truly exceptionally tall. Compared to her, the murderer was like a short, stubby melon; they should not be the same person in disguise. Looking at her again, she appeared to be around seventeen or eighteen years old. Her unfastened hair flowed before her shoulders like dark clouds, and her elegant neck was faintly discernible through the gaps of her hair, like snowflakes dotting window patterns, revealing only tiny specks of white.

Standing right in the path of the wind, she wore pure white undergarments, and the wide-sleeved black robe draped over her shoulders billowed slightly in the wind, releasing wisps of a rose wine fragrance.

The inspector had smelled this kind of wine fragrance at the Prefectural Governor’s manor before. It originated from Zuiyun Pavilion, costing an ounce of gold for an ounce of wine—an amusement reserved exclusively for the wealthy.

The wind was eerie and the rain was urgent. This young lady used her hand to shield the candle flame. The firelight flickered back and forth, casting a layer of thin yellow over her exquisite eyebrows and eyes, blending into the two smudges of rouge-like red at the corners of her eyes. She was so gorgeously radiant that one did not dare to look too closely.

Within the brilliant Chaotian City, amidst the painted pavilions, decorated buildings, flowered bridges, and phoenix boats, there were countless beauties, yet none had been seen who could surpass her. The official hurriedly averted his gaze and said apologetically, “I have frightened you, young lady. Please forgive me.”

Hearing this, the person in the room arched his brows, his tone lifting slightly, “Young lady?”

The official abruptly lifted his head upon hearing the voice, only to see the “young lady” tuck a strand of hair back, revealing a prominent Adam’s apple. He spoke in a voice that was softened and made husky by wine, asking, “Do I look very much like a young lady?”

“Ah… No, no!” Never expecting to make such a laughingstock of himself, the official waved his hands in a flurry. “The sky is dark and the light is thin, so I misjudged. I pray the young master does not take it to heart.”

No wonder! Just now, the official was still thinking that it was indeed rare to see a woman grow to such a height. This youth was still young, had not bound his hair yet, had his Adam’s apple concealed, and possessed such a beautiful countenance. Even if placed in broad daylight, as long as the youth did not speak, the official feared he would also utter an offensive remark and call out “young lady.”

However, although the official felt incomparably awestruck, his life-threatening official duty still hung over his heart like a piercing blade, preventing him from losing his reason entirely. Which of the alluring youths and beautiful maidens of Chaotian City had not had their portraits painted and hung in the high pavilions of pleasure boats for people to admire and compete in beauty? Even the son of Governor Li could not escape it. Why had he never seen the person before his eyes? Moreover, how could someone who could afford to indulge in Zuiyun Pavilion’s rose wine live in the northern suburbs?

The youth leaned casually against the door frame, seemingly entirely unaware of the suspicion that briefly flashed across the official’s face before dissolving. He glanced at the official’s waist token and asked in surprise, “Why has the Inspector Master come here in the dead of night?”

The inspector temporarily suppressed his questions and said, “The thief I was pursuing flipped into your honorable residence. Did the young master happen to see any suspicious individuals?”

“Previously, I drank a bit of wine and somehow fell asleep slumped over the table. Just now, if I hadn’t happened to get up to relieve myself, I wouldn’t have even noticed you, Officer, let alone a thief.” The youth misunderstood the “thief” the inspector spoke of as an ordinary burglar, grumbling to himself, “Coming to the northern suburbs to steal? Which thief is so worthless? If word gets out, he’ll be laughed at by his peers.”

These words were not false. The northern suburbs were dilapidated, and most of the residents were elderly folk with hair as white as child-hair. Their pockets were so clean that they couldn’t even shake out the sound of two coins. Any thief with a bit of a conscience who took a stroll inside would feel like pulling money out of their own pockets to subsidize them. It was just that tonight’s “thief” was no ordinary burglar, but a murderer.

The matter was of grave importance, so the inspector could not say much, letting the youth remain under his misunderstanding. His gaze flickered slightly as he swiftly scanned the interior of the room: a bed, a table, a cupboard rack—the furnishings were few and far between. The space beneath the bed was clean, the bed curtains were wide open, and one could see the bedding was smooth, with the blanket folded neatly on the inner side.

This room could be taken in at a single glance and could not hide anyone. Yet, he had seen the murderer flip into the yard with his own eyes, and the mud-stained footprints on the steps could not be faked. The inspector thought for a moment and said, “For the sake of official business, I wonder if the young master could grant me some convenience to let me look at the two adjoining rooms?”

“Naturally.” The youth turned around, walked to the cupboard rack to fetch the keys, stepped out of the main house, and unlocked the left room. Inside stood only three bookshelves packed to the brim with old books. He glanced at the inspector’s expression, locked it back up, and walked toward the right room.

The inspector followed closely behind the youth, noting that his pace was neither fast nor slow. His entire bearing was completely incompatible with the northern suburbs, appearing even more elegant and noble than those sons of officials in the city. This was something that could not be forged by gold and silver alone. The youth unlocked the right room. The inspector walked over and saw that it was a bedroom that had been left vacant for a long time, likewise offering a clear view with nowhere to hide.

“This bedroom belonged to my nanny. After she passed away, it was locked up. I usually do not reside here, and only hire people to clean it at regular intervals.” The youth locked the door and turned around, his gaze sweeping past the inspector to land on the cassia tree in the courtyard. “I came back today to celebrate my nanny’s birthday. I will leave as soon as dawn breaks.”

Celebrating a birthday for a deceased person was rather rare. The inspector offered his condolences, and subsequently remembered that nannies usually served in high-born, noble manors.

The youth’s pale red lips pressed lightly together as he let out a sigh. He immediately bypassed the inspector to walk to the front of the main house, saying, “If you have questions, Officer, please come inside to ask.”

The room was lined with palm-bark floor mats. The inspector had mud on his feet, so it was inappropriate to step on them, hence he did not enter. By then, the youth had already set down the lamp and taken a seat. The stray hairs at his temples blocked his downward gaze, yet the line from his shoulders and neck down to his back surpassed bamboo and conquered pine. The restrained upward strength and the sharpness of a slashing bloody gash could entirely not be hidden.

The inspector fully experienced what it meant for “beautiful jade to collapse like a mountain,” and his suspicion regarding the youth’s identity simultaneously peaked. He rubbed the hilt of his sabre, but ultimately let it go, cupping his fists as he said, “I have disturbed you tonight, young master. May I inquire after your honorable name? I will certainly come to your door to apologize on another day.”

The youth replied, “Since it is official business, there is no need to keep it on your mind.”

A black-glazed wine pot lay tilted by the edge of the table, covered by a fan: a mysterious bone handle, a red paper face, sprinkled with gold, written in cursive script—the words read “The moon rises, startling the mountain birds.” The youth set the wine pot upright, gathered the fan, smiled faintly at him, and said, “My surname is Shen, and my given name is Quebai.”

What!

The power of this name was not inferior to the crashing thunder outside the eaves, booming until the inspector’s face abruptly transformed.

Shen Quebai, the Fifth Young Master of the Great Liang Dynasty’s Yongding Marquis Manor. Shortly after birth, he was sent away to Chaotian City, and had not been summoned back to Xuandu for nineteen years. To put it bluntly, he had already become an abandoned child. But he was ultimately the flesh and blood of the Yongding Marquis. In matters concerning the Emperor, if one became entangled with the Shen clan, it was no longer something that could be cleared up by mere “inciting floating rumors and cursing the monarch”!

Did the murderer flip into the Pure Garden by coincidence, or by design? If it was by design, what on earth did he want to do!

The inspector was struck with alarm and uncertainty when he suddenly heard Shen Quebai let out a cough. He looked over, only to see the other party extend a snow-white fingertip to indicate a direction, “If the murderer truly entered before, perhaps he slipped out through the back door.”

“Many thanks!” The inspector immediately turned around and rushed toward the back door. However, after being washed and swept by the night rain, where could any suspicious traces still be found? His brows furrowed tightly as he let out a sigh, glancing toward the direction of the main house before leaving.

If such a youth had been raised and educated within the Marquis Manor, he would surely be even more phenomenally brilliant. What a pity.

The rain was still falling.

Slap.

Shen Quebai closed the room door, hooked the floor mat in front of the door with the tip of his toe, ground out the dirty handkerchief previously used to wipe away the footprints, tossed it into the basin beside the door, and blew to ignite a fire starter. The handkerchief caught fire. He turned around and picked up the wine pot by the table, his finger pad stroking over the silver-embroidered cassia leaves on the tablecloth, murmuring softly, “Nanny, there are many idle people tonight. They have disturbed you.”

The room was deathly quiet, the basin spitting out a scorched odor.