chapter 17

After all that bluffing, Wen Mu only managed to squeeze out this little bit of information. The questioning was over, but what should be done with him?

Yan Ci said, regardless of whether he heard anything or not, we’ll assume he did. If he heard, he must die.

Alright, looks like it’s time to slaughter another pig. I sharpened my knife, and Wen Mu turned pale with fright. “W-wait, you can’t kill me!”

He spoke rapidly: “I am Yan Qing’s page. If I die, he will never let this go!”

Yan Ci picked up his fire tongs. “Guanqi, Third Imperial Brother has so many talented people at his side. Why would he entrust such an important task to a mere page?”

Before I could answer, a warm liquid was already trickling down my cheek. I touched it-it was bright red blood.

In a flash, Wen Mu died as quietly as all those girls who had been sent to Emperor Yan’s table.

Before I slaughtered the pig, Yan Ci asked me, “Guanqi, will you still bring me grilled perch?”

I nodded. He rubbed my head and told me to do it. I raised the knife and brought it down, finishing off Wen Mu just as I had done with Su Jinbao.

After burying Wen Mu’s body, Yan Ci took away his head, then came back again.

The head is the easiest part to identify someone by. I suppose he found a hidden place to stash it away.

I took off my bloodstained shoes, socks, and outer robe, and burned them until nothing was left.

My hands and feet were icy cold, so I warmed myself by the fire. Yan Ci wrapped me in his cloak, squinting contentedly. “Guanqi, are you warm?”

Amitabha. The blood is warm, the charcoal is warm, and Yan Ci’s cloak is warm too.