Please, Don’t Die - Chapter 33

The night was deep and heavy with dew, yet the palace remained brightly lit by candlelight. The warm orange glow seeped through the intricately carved wooden windows, casting a soft, comforting radiance.

A slender young man sat upright at his desk, wielding a fine vermilion brush as he meticulously marked one dossier after another, his expression focused and earnest.

Suddenly, a violent fit of coughing shattered the silence of the long night. His body convulsed violently, his chest heaving with each cough as though he were trying to expel his very lungs. The relentless hacking was harrowing to hear.

“Your Highness, please rest. There will be time to continue tomorrow,” Chang Yuan urged, startled awake by the coughing. His eyes brimmed with concern as he took in his lord’s visibly thinner frame.

The coughing gradually subsided.

The young prince pressed his fingers to the corners of his eyes and waved dismissively. “It’s nothing. Go rest.”

“Your Highness,” Chang Yuan pressed anxiously, “His Majesty and Her Majesty will worry if you keep this up. The Crown Prince mentioned that Miss Chu-”

“Enough. No more.” Prince Liang cut him off, massaging his temples with his fingers. “I’ve made some progress on this case recently. I’ll be leaving the capital soon, and time is pressing. I want to uncover the mastermind behind this.”

On the desk, stacks of dossiers towered high. The words “Case of the Missing Children,” boldly circled in vermilion, were a chilling sight.

Just glancing at those words sent a shiver down Chang Yuan’s spine. The case was so sinister and vile that even recounting it as a story would strain belief.

Having served by Prince Liang’s side, Chang Yuan had learned a thing or two about the secretive case since his lord took it on.

The dark, twisted sorcery involved was utterly appalling. He fully understood his lord’s urgency to crack the case.

Thus, while his heart ached for his lord’s relentless toil, he could do little but sigh in resignation.

Chang Yuan exhaled deeply and dutifully replaced the brazier with one that burned hotter.

The vermilion brush dipped, scattering drops like shattered jade and scattered pearls.

A sudden metallic tang rose in the young man’s throat. He swallowed it discreetly, seizing the flash of insight as he circled a location on the paper again and again.

Zhou’s Trading Company, South District, Shang Lehe’s case.

…

Zhou’s Trading Company, South District.

Ying Qujie and He Qingsheng exchanged bewildered glances.

“Zhou’s Trading Company? I don’t know any Zhou’s Trading Company. Scram, don’t block the way,” the man spat impatiently, brushing past them to hurry inside.

“Young master, won’t you come in for a drink?” A sultry, honeyed voice lilted through the air.

Laughter tinkled like wind chimes as crimson sleeves beckoned from the balconies.

The location Shang Lehe had given for Zhou’s Trading Company turned out to be a brothel.

Noticing Ying Qujie’s distinguished bearing and his prolonged hesitation outside, the garishly dressed madam sidled up with an ingratiating smile. “Zhou’s Trading Company? That’s ancient history! Young master, why not visit our Tianxiang Tower instead? A decade-old establishment with a variety of atmospheres. If you’re only here for music, our ladies are the finest in the capital.”

“Let’s go, Physician Ying. We’ll listen to a tune or two,” He Qingsheng suggested from his perch on Ying Qujie’s shoulder, swinging her legs leisurely.

Ying Qujie’s face was wooden, filled with regret for not disguising himself before rashly following the lead.

The madam, a seasoned veteran of the pleasure quarters, was a master of reading people.

Of course, she noticed the exquisitely crafted wooden puppet on Ying Qujie’s shoulder. After offering sincere praise, she steered toward her goal. “I couldn’t help but admire the unique tailoring of your puppet’s attire. Our Cong Shuang is a peerless seamstress; would you honor us by admiring her craftsmanship?”

“If the young master is pleased, perhaps Cong Shuang could even make some delicate garments for this wooden beauty.”

He Qingsheng tugged a strand of Ying Qujie’s long hair, signaling him to respond.

“Don’t be shy, Physician. Just think of it as me wanting new clothes. Let’s go.”

Ying Qujie freed his hair from her grasp and nodded with a quiet “Mm.” The madam beamed and led the way.

Tianxiang Tower was a three-story building with a hollowed-out central courtyard, extravagantly luxurious.

At the center of the first floor stood a massive drum on a stage. A slender, lotus-faced girl lightly tapped her toes, and the drumbeats followed her movements, now fast, now slow, now like a sudden storm and thunder, now like the soft rustle of falling snow.

As the dance ended, her flowing sleeves fluttered to the ground.

But the expected applause never came.

Silence filled the room. The solo dancer turned in confusion, following the crowd’s gaze.

At the entrance, a young man in a blue robe strolled in with effortless grace.

Ying Qujie’s striking looks and ethereal demeanor stood in stark contrast to the surroundings, like a breath of fresh air that instantly drew the eyes of everyone present.

Some gazes were awestruck, others lecherous, still others scrutinizing…

Ying Qujie frowned, his previously calm aura chilling in an instant.

Noticing his discomfort, the madam quickly smoothed things over with a loud announcement, “Honored guests, our Wanqing has learned a new dance today. Let’s not neglect the beauty and make her sad, shall we?”

“Wanqing, why the pause?”

The girl on the drum snapped out of her daze at the call and nodded hastily, raising her sleeves to resume the dance.

The music of strings and pipes swelled once more.

The madam swiftly ushered Ying Qujie into a private room, shielding him from prying eyes.

The room was cleverly positioned, offering an excellent vantage point to observe almost the entire Tianxiang Tower while remaining nearly invisible from the outside.

The madam seemed convinced that Ying Qujie was wealthy, even unpacking a fresh set of teacups and tea cakes, clearly of considerable value.

Ying Qujie didn’t stop her.

He Qingsheng had figured it out by now: while he could endure rough travels when necessary, outside of urgent journeys, Ying Qujie was fastidious to an extreme in daily life, his clothes had to be fine silks, his meals made from the finest ingredients, and even the tableware had to be porcelain from renowned kilns, not to mention the meticulous presentation.

She absentmindedly twisted the red jade ring on her finger.

Hmph. And she had to keep up with his standards too.

“Please enjoy, honored guest,” the madam said with a smile. “I’ve sent for Cong Shuang. She’ll be here shortly.”

“Was Tianxiang Tower originally the Zhou Trading Company?”

Ying Qujie surveyed the interior layout. Despite deliberate attempts to mask it, many details still betrayed its former identity as a trading venue.

The madam’s smile stiffened. “To be honest with you, sir, by the time Tianxiang Tower took over this place, the Zhou Trading Company had long gone bankrupt. I’m just a manager, not the owner, so I don’t know much about the specifics.”

“Then bring your owner here.”

“Ah, what unfortunate timing. The owner is away on business today. If you have matters to discuss, perhaps you could return another day.” The madam was quick on her feet, slippery as an eel.

If they came back another day, she’d likely have another excuse ready.

Ying Qujie glanced at her and silently released the small wooden figurine he’d been holding.

He Qingsheng abruptly stood up, leaped onto Ying Qujie’s head, and lazily crooked a finger at the madam.

Before the madam could recover from the shock of seeing a moving puppet, an unseen force yanked her off her feet, suspending her midair.

He Qingsheng waved. “Hi there, Mama-san. I’m not as easygoing as he is. Think carefully before answering my questions, alright?”

Her voice was clear and haunting, the exquisite puppet now fully alive.

The madam’s eyes widened in terror.

A wisp of baleful energy dangled her, playfully swaying her toward the exit of the private room. The madam’s scream was stifled in her throat.

She could only stare in terror at the crowd reveling below.

The second floor of Tianxiang Tower wasn’t particularly high, but given the madam’s age, a fall would surely leave her crippled.

Moreover, she knew the layout of the building all too well, directly below was a display of sharp opera props.

Beads of sweat the size of peas dripped to the floor as the madam clutched her handkerchief, casting a pleading look at He Qingsheng.

“No, no, no! Ask away, I’ll tell you everything I know!”

He Qingsheng: “What’s your master’s name?”

“Her surname is Dai, given name Xianyun. All I know is that she was a famous courtesan over a decade ago, vanished for a few years, then bought this place and opened Tianxiang Tower. Beyond that, I know nothing else.”

The madam rattled off the entire explanation in one breath, gazing expectantly at He Qingsheng, hoping she would pull her back inside, lest she lose his temper and fling her straight out the window.

But she paid no heed to her silent plea.

He Qingsheng smacked her forehead. Of course, it was her!

The mistress Shang Lehe’s former husband had kept.

After the Zhou Trading Company collapsed, she had taken over and turned Tianxiang Tower into a veritable den of extravagance.

A decade of operation, raking in fortunes daily, yet she remained low-key, hidden from the world.

He Qingsheng couldn’t help but wonder what secrets she might hold.

All these years since Shang Lehe’s death, what had she done, guarding those secrets?

“Where is she now?”

The madam forced a nervous laugh. “A distinguished guest requested an audience with the master. She must be entertaining them now.”

“Take me to her.”

“Immortal, this isn’t proper! The guest is truly noble, we can’t afford to offend them.” If she hadn’t been dangling midair, the madam would have dropped to her knees in supplication.

Just then, three sharp knocks sounded at the door.

“Madam, Cong Shuang has arrived late.”

The door creaked open, and a graceful figure glided in, lowering her head in a delicate bow toward the private seating. “Pray forgive my tardiness, honored guest.”

Cong Shuang raised her shy gaze, only to startle at the sight before her.

A wooden puppet, carved in the likeness of a beautiful woman, rested its chin on its hand, smiling at her.

The puppet’s bluish-green robe was unmistakably fine Xiangyun gauze, and the numerous beaded ornaments adorning it were clearly of exceptional quality.

Staring at the puppet, Cong Shuang momentarily failed to notice the equally extraordinary young man seated nearby.

He Qingsheng spoke gently, “Miss Cong Shuang, do you know where the master of Tianxiang Tower is today?”

Cong Shuang blinked in surprise at the puppet’s feminine voice.

The madam hastily interjected, “The immortal jests. Cong Shuang is but a humble courtesan, how could she know the master’s whereabouts?”

“Did I ask you to speak?”

The madam instantly fell silent.

Cong Shuang glanced at her, suspended in midair, barely able to save herself, yet still shooting her a warning glare to keep her mouth shut.

“Immortal, this humble one knows not,” Cong Shuang murmured, lowering her head, her lips a delicate shade of red, exuding demure charm.

“Very well.” He Qingsheng was uncharacteristically agreeable. “Since you don’t know, you may leave.”

Cong Shuang’s expression flickered with surprise, but she hesitantly complied, retreating step by step toward the door.

He Qingsheng gave her a gentle wave.

The moment the door closed…

BANG!

The wooden window of the private room shattered, raining shards onto the floor below.

The commotion drew curses from the patrons downstairs, and all eyes turned toward the private box.

Amid the chorus of swearing, the madam dangled outside the second-floor window, wailing for mercy.

Cong Shuang’s retreating steps faltered, her face deathly pale as she rushed forward.

“Don’t, don’t hurt her! I’ll take you to my master!”

The guards of Tianxiang Tower hurried up the stairs from both sides, while the crowd below erupted in chaos.

Amid the clamor, Ying Qujie plucked the small wooden puppet from his head and cradled it in his palm. The sleeves of her cyan robe fluttered without wind, swirling around her fingertips.

One of the puppet’s arms rested in his palm, its red jade ring icy cold, making the blood-red jade bracelet on his wrist feel scalding by contrast.

Ying Qujie lowered his gaze and lightly tapped the puppet’s head.

Her recent actions had been too conspicuous.

So conspicuous, it was almost like a provocation.