Chapter 6: The Winds Arise

When Chen Hong arrived at the crime scene, he found that this time, the area had been well protected. Perhaps they’d learned from their last experience—at the very least, there weren’t obvious signs of the area having been disturbed. Only the multitude of footprints nearby betrayed the panic of the estate’s guards the night before, their frantic steps having trampled the ground into chaos.

Chen Hong inspected the victims. Both had suffered fatal wounds to the neck, each slain by a single, precise knife thrust. Their bodies bore further injuries, evidence of a fierce struggle; judging by the copious bloodstains at the scene, the third person involved could not have escaped unscathed. Following the trail of blood, it was easy to find signs of the third person’s departure.

Just as Chen Hong was about to instruct his men to trace the blood, he heard someone whisper, “Isn’t that the owner of the lamb offal soup shop? Didn’t he say he was going home to visit his family?”

Startled, Chen Hong turned, “What did you say? You recognize him?”

The speaker, a guard who had just come on duty that morning, replied, “Reporting to you, sir, yesterday at dawn, I and two others ate breakfast at the lamb offal soup shop owned by this Mr. Jin. Later, we heard he closed up shop to return home for a family visit.”

“Bring the other two here to confirm his identity,” Chen Hong ordered.

“Yes, sir.”

Soon, the other two arrived and unanimously confirmed the dead man was indeed Mr. Jin, mentioning there was also a worker at the shop, a young man who served and did odd jobs.

Chen Hong fell into deep thought, then instructed his men: some were to follow the blood trail, others to bring in the worker from the soup shop for questioning. His orders given, Chen Hong turned and made his way through the winding corridors of the estate, arriving at the courtyard of Madame Ouyang—the second wife.

The first wife had passed away long ago; now, the Ouyang family had only this Madame, and no servant dared refer to her as “the second.” Madame Ouyang had been attacked! The news struck the household like a thunderbolt from a clear sky. The master’s body had not yet grown cold, and now, less than three days later, Madame Ouyang had also fallen victim to an assassin. Such acts could not be merely vengeance of a personal nature.

Chen Hong, calm and composed, entered the house, finding Ouyang Feng, Ouyang Yun, and the steward, Ouyang Fu, within. Ouyang Feng’s face was drawn with grief, Ouyang Yun’s pallor betrayed her sobbing, and Ouyang Fu, though outwardly composed, could not hide the complexity in his eyes.

Taking in the scene, Chen Hong mused inwardly, “Ah, what intrigue lies within these high-walled mansions.”

Madame Ouyang’s body had already been handed over for examination; there was nothing unusual. She had died in panic, struggled slightly, and was stabbed several times, bleeding to death.

Chen Hong lost interest in the remains, instead glancing around. Noticing Ouyang Yu was absent, he inquired, “Where is Miss Ouyang Yu?”

Ouyang Fu replied, “It all happened so suddenly; the household was thrown into confusion. We hadn’t yet notified Miss Yu, but before you arrived, sir, I sent someone to fetch her. She should be here soon.”

Suddenly, a servant rushed in, panic-stricken. “Steward Ouyang, bad news! Miss Yu is missing!”

“What did you say?”

Chen Hong’s brow furrowed as he shot a deep look at Ouyang Fu.

Ouyang Fu demanded, “What exactly happened? Speak clearly!”

The servant replied, “I went to summon Miss Yu, but she didn’t answer. I sought out the other ladies for help, only to find them stumbling out, dazed and confused. When I went into Miss Yu’s room, she was gone.”

Upon hearing this, Chen Hong sensed something amiss. “Steward Ouyang, we’d best go see Miss Yu’s quarters ourselves.”

“Agreed,” Ouyang Fu said.

The group made their way to Ouyang Yu’s courtyard. Dispensing with ceremony, they entered at once.

Chen Hong inspected the room, noting holes in the doors and windows, the disheveled bedding, and a faint, peculiar scent lingering in the air. He glanced at Ouyang Fu, who maintained an unflappable demeanor, his composure inscrutable.

“Sir Chen, have you found anything?” Ouyang Fu asked.

After a pause, Chen Hong replied, “Miss Yu has been abducted. There is still the smell of soporific smoke in the room—those holes in the window were made by a special tube used to release it. However…”

Ouyang Fu pressed, “What is it?”

“We need to check if the two men in black carried such equipment. That should clarify the sequence of events last night.”

Ouyang Fu frowned. “Sequence? Are you saying these assassins had accomplices?”

“We can’t conclude that yet. But understanding the order of events will shed light on the case’s true nature.”

Immediately, Chen Hong sent his men to investigate. As expected, the dead man known as Mr. Jin was found to have both the soporific smoke and the tools for deploying it.

After leaving Ouyang Yu’s quarters and finishing their inspection of the various scenes, the group returned to the main courtyard. There, the coffin for Madame Ouyang had already been set up in the mourning hall.

Watching the busy estate, Chen Hong realized he now understood the case’s outlines, though he still lacked clear leads. He bid farewell to Ouyang Fu, intending to report to the magistrate.

But as soon as he reached the estate gates, a subordinate came to report: the lamb offal soup shop was empty, its young worker, Ah Feng, missing.

Chen Hong’s eyes brightened. Though the trail had grown cold, more and more people were being drawn in. The truth was drawing nearer. He ordered several men back to report, while he himself hurried with a group to the soup shop.

As the flowers bloom in two places, each tells its own tale.

Within the Ouyang estate, after Chen Hong’s departure, Ouyang Fu looked at the ashen-faced Ouyang Yun, then at the desolate Ouyang Feng, and sighed to himself.

Perhaps overcome by grief, Ouyang Yun suddenly fainted. Ouyang Fu quickly ordered her to be carried away and summoned a physician.

At that moment, Ouyang Ping arrived in a panic. Seeing his father there, he hurried forward to pay his respects, but the stench of wine clung to him.

Ouyang Fu frowned and rebuked him, “You unfilial child! Did I not warn you repeatedly about drinking? Go to your room and reflect on your actions!”

The reprimand sobered Ouyang Ping, cold sweat breaking out, and he bowed his head in shame. “Yes, Father.”

He hurried in and hurried out.

Ouyang Fu turned to Ouyang Feng, softening his tone. “Young master Feng, please accept my condolences. There is much that needs your attention in the estate.”

Ouyang Feng remained silent.

Ouyang Fu continued, “In just a few short days, disaster has struck this household twice. Now both master and madam are gone. The old lady rarely leaves her rooms and takes no part in the household’s affairs. As the saying goes, ‘A nation cannot go a day without its sovereign, a household cannot go a day without its head.’ There is much to be done. You must find your strength.”

Ouyang Feng sighed, “Uncle Fu, please, say no more. My father’s murder has left me stricken. Now that my mother has also been killed, my heart is in turmoil. How can I see to the affairs of the house? I think it best to inform my grandmother and let her decide.”

Ouyang Fu wished to advise him further, but Ouyang Feng only sighed, disinclined to speak.

Perhaps only Ouyang Feng understood the difficulties he faced. His birth mother had been the first wife, but she died of illness when he was young. The master then married the second wife, and life became ever more difficult for him. Especially after the second wife bore twins—a son, Ouyang Yun, and a daughter, Ouyang Yu—he fell further out of favor, even his grandmother showing him little kindness.

As he grew older, he heard rumors that he was not truly the first wife’s son but the child of a maid, taken in because the first wife could not bear children. These whispers enraged him. Surrounded by gossip and scorn, he once sought out his father, only to receive a silent recounting of the story between himself and the first wife. Ouyang Feng felt like an outsider.

That night, he matured. He realized he could not change the past. Even if he truly was the son of a maid, he remained his father’s child—nothing could alter that.

From then on, Ouyang Feng studied diligently, was modest and kind, dutiful to his parents. Though he knew his grandmother disliked him, he never failed to pay his respects.

He didn’t know if any of this mattered, but he knew that not doing it would only make things worse.

Now, with his father and stepmother both dead, as the eldest son, he felt even more compelled to conduct himself beyond reproach.

Ouyang Fu’s words were reasonable, but given the current circumstances, every move Ouyang Feng made would be scrutinized. One misstep, and he’d be cast out.

He looked at Ouyang Fu. The steward, now nearly fifty, had watched him grow up; from his earliest memory, Uncle Fu had always been there. The things he couldn’t tell his father, he confided to Fu, who always listened patiently, like a true elder.

Seeing Fu’s worried face, Ouyang Feng said softly, “Uncle Fu, don’t worry about me. My troubles aren’t something that can be solved overnight.”

Ouyang Fu replied, “Young master, forgive an old servant’s many words. These are extraordinary times, and extraordinary measures are called for. With the old master and madam both gone, young master Yun still too young, and Miss Yu’s whereabouts unknown, the estate is as fragile as an egg. If no one steps forward, won’t all the old master’s efforts come to nothing?”

Ouyang Feng wanted to speak, but the words died on his lips. Clearly, he was tempted.

Seizing the moment, Ouyang Fu pressed on, “If you’re worried about the old lady, come and speak to her with me. She may be aged, but she’s wise. If we explain the situation, I’m sure she’ll understand.”

Ouyang Feng thought of the caution and humility he’d practiced for so many years. Now, the opportunity before him was, after all, rightfully his—he was only claiming it a little sooner than expected.

His hands trembled, his chest rose and fell. He glanced at himself, the coffin in the mourning hall, then at Ouyang Fu.

Clenching his fists, Ouyang Feng exhaled deeply. “Very well. As you say, let us inform my grandmother.”

“Your servant obeys.” Ouyang Fu let out a long breath.

The two made their way toward the inner quarters.

The sky had turned gloomy; at that moment, it seemed the wind had risen.

To be continued.