Chapter Forty-Two: Slander and Deceitful Words

Inside the Third Young Master's room. Xu Zixian, after being tormented for the past two days, had finally found some relief. Now, he slept deeply.

"Miss Qin, the news has already spread in secret—everyone knows," reported Red Birthmark upon returning.

"You'll have a busy night ahead. Keep watch quietly; there may be more trouble. By the way, has Jiang Wei come back?"

"Not yet."

"Did he say where he went?"

Red Birthmark shook his head.

"Red, go about your work for now. Send Ding Zhan to me."

Shortly after, Ding Zhan hurried in. "Prophet, is there something wrong with the Third Young Master?"

"Nothing's wrong with him. I just wanted to ask—those food and water supplies I had you hide this afternoon, did you check them all?"

"I did. The food was fine except for the tea leaves; everything else was safe. But the water, yes, there was something wrong with it," Ding Zhan recalled.

"Was it slightly salty?"

"Yes," Ding Zhan nodded emphatically.

"Did you check the well water outside?"

"I did. It’s also slightly salty, different from before," Ding Zhan replied after some thought.

"And the tea leaves—where did those come from?"

"They’re from the shop the Young Master frequents. He loves their tea, and whenever a new batch arrives, he always gets the first pick."

"Is this tea sold everywhere?"

"Our Third Young Master is a man of particular tastes. He drinks only the best. There’s only one canister like this in the entire city!"

"Send someone to the tea shop quietly and invite the owner here," Qin Xiaomo instructed, pausing a moment to think. "Until we get to the bottom of this, don’t use the well downstairs. Use the same well as the rest of the household, and make sure only people from our own courtyard fetch and boil the water, fresh each time—don’t let it pass through anyone else’s hands. Now, both your Third Young Master and Xiao Anzi need to start drinking plenty of warm water, so I’ll need you to take extra care in preparing it."

"Rest assured, Prophet. There will be no mistakes," Ding Zhan promised, then hesitated before asking softly, "Prophet, do you really think the Third Young Master’s illness can be cured?"

Qin Xiaomo smiled, "It’s a minor ailment—nothing to worry about."

"Then I’m relieved. Thank you, Prophet. I’ll go prepare the warm water right away," Ding Zhan said, bowing as he departed.

At the inn.

"Hey... do you really think your Miss Qin can cure the Third Young Master?" Little Mustache, still tightly bound to the bed, asked Coldface, bored.

"If Miss Qin says she can, then she can," Coldface replied with unwavering loyalty.

"I’ve always wondered—it’s strange. Weren’t you all sent to kill her? How did you end up following her instead?" Little Mustache shifted in place to look at Coldface.

"I don’t know either. At first, we did fight, but she beat us. Then, somehow, it just felt right to follow her, like I was destined to," Coldface reminisced.

"You’re quite sentimental for hired killers. Isn’t it a bit childish, being so attached?"

"What would a swindler like you understand?"

"How have I swindled you? Didn’t I tell you the price before you bought the information?"

"You did."

"And didn’t you find her?"

"We did."

"Then how can you say I’m a swindler?"

"Because Miss Qin says you are!"

"Oh, that medicine of hers really..." Little Mustache thought of the so-called remedy he had sold to Qin Xiaomo—just a bit of durian fruit—and felt it best to say nothing more.

They sat in silence for a while before Coldface, growing bored, asked, "Why did you ask if Miss Qin could cure the illness? Do you know something?"

"No, nothing, just making conversation," Little Mustache replied, his face insincere.

Sensing the evasion, Coldface threatened, "I wouldn’t mind slipping a mouse into your shirt to gnaw at your flesh..."

"Hey, hey, no need for that! To be honest, the medicine... I made it myself. No one in these three counties would know how to cure it."

"Oh! No wonder you spoke so knowledgeably. So you’re the one who poisoned the Third Young Master!" Coldface made to drag Little Mustache off to the manor to confess to Qin Xiaomo.

"Wait, wait! I only said I made the medicine, not that I administered it."

"Then who did?"

"I value my life. If I told, I’d be as good as dead."

"You make the poison, then offer the cure—scamming your way right up to the manor gates. You must have a death wish!" Coldface suddenly realized.

"You can’t call that a scam. At most, I’m just making a living with my skills. If I hadn’t run into you, I’d probably be rolling in riches at the Qianchun Brothel by now."

"You really think you could have gotten the money? If the old Master found out you’d conspired to harm his son, you’d be lucky just to keep your life. You should be grateful we stopped you. Brothel dreams, indeed," Coldface remarked, for once speaking sense.

"To get rich, you have to take risks. The bigger the manor, the deeper the hidden currents," Little Mustache said, his eyes narrowing as he dreamed of fortune.

At the entrance to the East Wing of the Third Young Master’s residence, someone knocked.

"Xiao Hong, Brother Ding Zhan asked me to bring over some warm water." The water was delivered by Lanzhi, a kitchen maid.

"Why didn’t Brother Ding come himself?" Xiao Hong asked through the cracked door.

"He said Xiao Anzi also needed warm water, so he had to boil another pot, and sent me instead," Lanzhi replied, stepping forward to enter.

Xiao Hong stopped her. "Just give me the water. You go on with your work."

Lanzhi hesitated, then handed over the kettle and left.

"Prophet, the warm water’s here," Xiao Hong announced, carrying the kettle inside.

"Is this water from the household’s shared well?" Qin Xiaomo gently woke Xu Zixian, who, upon seeing her, was overjoyed. He tried to speak, but his mouth was parched, so he just pointed at the kettle.

"Yes, the kitchen said Brother Ding Zhan had it sent."

"Then bring it over and help your Young Master drink. I’ll go downstairs to fetch some fruit juice. Make sure he drinks plenty of water—once the toxins are flushed out, he’ll recover," Qin Xiaomo said, helping Xu Zixian sit up before leaving the room.

A short while later, Xiao Hong’s voice rang out from inside the room, panicked. "Something’s wrong! Help! Prophet! Prophet!"

"What’s happened?" Qin Xiaomo, who had been downstairs, rushed up at once. She entered to find Xu Zixian vomiting uncontrollably, his face turning a ghastly shade of blue-black. Soon, his eyes rolled back in his head.

Qin Xiaomo knew something was wrong. The symptoms were similar to Xiao Anzi’s but not quite like the previous nitrite poisoning. With no time to ponder further, she ordered him to be induced to vomit immediately.

At that moment, the old Master entered. Seeing his son vomiting and fainting as before, he demanded, "Prophet, what’s going on?"

"The illness came on suddenly. I need to look into it further," Qin Xiaomo replied.

"How long will it take to find the cause?"

Qin Xiaomo was at a loss. She wasn’t truly a doctor. Minor ailments were one thing, but this...

After a moment’s thought, she said, "To be honest, Master, these symptoms aren’t quite the same as before. Perhaps there’s a different cause at work."

"You mean my son has been harmed by another poison?" The old Master began to doubt her abilities.

"It’s a possibility that can’t be ruled out."

"Then can you cure him?"

"The previous illness, yes, but this..." Qin Xiaomo admitted frankly that she did not know what this new affliction was, though she was certain it had been deliberately inflicted on Xu Zixian.

The old Master, enraged, exclaimed, "I thought you had true skill, but now my son is dying because of you! Guard her, and summon the Divine Healer Xue at once!"

Red Birthmark, seeing matters take a dire turn, quickly slipped out of the manor to the inn, hoping to find Little Mustache and learn how to counteract the poison.