Chapter 68
Chapter 68: Rumored Girlfriend
Ding He Ran pulled a white cloth pouch from his sleeve, marked with the Dust Warden seal. It was the same pouch Mo Ting Feng had used in the River of Oblivion cave to store the hair taken from the main soul lamp.
“We used the Origin-Returning Technique to trace the hair,” Ding He Ran reported. “It all came from the same woman. There’s no living aura left on it, meaning it was cut after her death. She died before she was thirty.”
Ye Wu Jiu continued in his usual steady, blunt tone. “We used the Trail-Seeking Technique to track her movements while she was alive. Her activity centered around Green Mountain Village. Combined with what He Ran uncovered, we believe this woman was Bao Er’s mother—Madam Chen Xiu Niang.”
Mo Ting Feng’s expression tightened. “How could that be? The hair in the main soul lamp… came from Xiu Niang?”
Ding He Ran produced a portrait and presented it. “This is a reconstructed appearance based on the Origin-Returning Technique and the hair’s master. It matches the woman shown in the Illusion Mirror that day.”
Mo Ting Feng stared at the portrait, thoughts turning heavy and grim.
Could the one someone wanted to revive—after all that effort—really be Xiu Niang?
The people who wished most for a dead person’s return were their blood kin, but Bao Er’s family were ordinary villagers, poor and struggling. They had neither the means nor the strength to commit such a taboo.
And if it wasn’t family… why violate heaven’s laws for a common village woman?
“Something’s wrong,” Mo Ting Feng said at last, tapping the table once. “The person they’re trying so hard to revive cannot be Xiu Niang. Maybe our judgment was wrong from the beginning.”
Ding He Ran said, “Wu Jiu and I were planning to visit Bao Er’s home this afternoon to see if we missed anything.”
“It would look strange if you two go,” Mo Ting Feng said. “I’ll take Wei Wei. She has a bond with Bao Er. Bringing her mother’s portrait will seem natural.”
He set the portrait aside. “You two go over every detail of the Nian Niang case again. Tomorrow, we’ll dissect it in Council Hall.”
They bowed and withdrew.
Mo Ting Feng had just stored the portrait away, ready to call them back so they could properly meet Sang Pu, when Ding He Ran’s voice rang outside the study.
“Miss—are you carrying the Venerable White Robe?”
Song Wei Chen froze in the doorway, caught mid-step with the unmistakable look of someone caught cheating on an exam. Behind her, Ding He Ran and Ye Wu Jiu stared, suspicious and startled.
She had planned it perfectly—slip out while they were still discussing the case, return to Venerable Manor, and never dress as a woman again. Cut off Mo Ting Feng’s ability to trap her with rumors about Sang Pu.
She’d even been so rushed that she’d grabbed White Robe to put on while walking. Wind-Listening Manor was usually quiet; she hadn’t expected to meet anyone.
And yet, the moment she stepped out, she ran right into them.
She forced her hands to stay steady, quietly slipped the sleeve she’d half-worn back off, and draped White Robe over her arm as if it were nothing.
“White Robe and I are old acquaintances,” she said without turning. “I’m delivering his clothes. Farewell.”
Then she hurried toward the exit, refusing to look back.
She made it two steps.
Mo Ting Feng’s voice slid in behind her like a blade wrapped in velvet. “Sang Pu. You exhausted yourself last night. Why didn’t you rest longer?”
Before she could react, an arm looped around her shoulders. Familiar warmth pressed close at her side.
He was doing it on purpose—making the gesture intimate, making the words suggestive. Song Wei Chen’s teeth ground together, but she couldn’t explode here, not with witnesses.
His lips brushed her ear, his voice low enough that only she could hear. “Trying to run? That afraid of being linked to me? Then I won’t let you have your way.”
To anyone watching, it looked like flirtation.
His hand tightened on her shoulder, guiding—forcing—her to turn and face Ding He Ran and Ye Wu Jiu.
Song Wei Chen’s smile turned brittle. So that was his plan: nail her identity as Sang Pu in front of them, right here, right now.
Ding He Ran bowed, formal as ever but with a sparkle of scandal in his eyes. “Greetings, Miss Sang Pu. I am Heaven Net Commander Ding He Ran. This is Earth Net Commander Ye Wu Jiu. Apologies—we came at the wrong time and disturbed miss and the Dust Warden Official’s… private conversation.”
As he spoke, Ding He Ran studied her closely. She truly was stunning—no wonder his lord had fallen at first sight.
And yet, something felt odd. Looking at her, he had a strange sense of familiarity, as if he’d known her long ago—
He shook his head sharply, killing the thought. Impossible. Absolutely impossible.
Song Wei Chen forced herself into politeness. “Greetings, Commanders. I am Sang Pu, the qin player newly hired by the Dust Warden Official. Forgive me—I was in a hurry earlier and was rude.”
She tried to brush off Mo Ting Feng’s hand.
Instead, he caught her fingers in his, and she couldn’t pull free.
Her face burned.
She glared at him. “You…”
Mo Ting Feng’s smile was maddeningly calm. “What? You’re not as inseparable now as you were last night?”
“Who was inseparable with you?!” Song Wei Chen nearly choked. “Stop talking nonsense!”
Ding He Ran and Ye Wu Jiu exchanged a look. They had never seen Mo Ting Feng like this.
Ye Wu Jiu bowed solemnly. “Congratulations, Dust Warden Official. Good fortune is near.”
Ding He Ran added with a grin, “Sounds like we’ll have to start calling Miss Sang Pu sister-in-law soon.”
Mo Ting Feng’s smile deepened—faint, satisfied, almost like tacit acceptance.
Song Wei Chen’s blood boiled. “What sister-in-law? What good fortune? If you keep spreading nonsense, I’ll—I’ll have someone weld your mouths shut!”
She snapped her gaze back to Mo Ting Feng, furious and trembling. “Is this fun for you?!”
He lifted a hand and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, the gesture so tender it felt like mockery.
“They didn’t say anything wrong,” he murmured.
Song Wei Chen saw red.
Mo Ting Feng waved Ding He Ran and Ye Wu Jiu away without even looking at them. “Go. If she’s angry, she’s hard to coax.”
The two commanders retreated with the unmistakable expressions of men who’d just gotten the juiciest gossip of their lives.
When they were gone, the courtyard seemed louder—wind in bamboo, the faint ring of chimes—everything sounding like laughter.
Song Wei Chen glared at Mo Ting Feng until her eyes stung. “What do you gain by ruining my reputation?”
Mo Ting Feng folded his arms, unhurried. “Miss Sang Pu, that’s a serious accusation. If kissing a man is such a trivial thing to you—something you don’t need to care about—how could a few words possibly hurt you?”
“Shameless.”
Song Wei Chen lifted White Robe and slammed it onto the ground.
Then she turned on her heel and stormed off. “I quit. I’m done!”