CHAPTER 90: CHAPTER 89: WHAT DOES IT HAVE TO DO WITH ME AGAIN?

"Young master?"

Hearing the guard’s voice, Chief Steward Shen Hong hurriedly turned his head and spoke respectfully, "Young master, why are you here? Were we making too much noise, did we disturb you?"

"...Yeah."

Le Yu slowly walked over, glanced at the bloodstains and corpse on the ground. Shen Hong immediately said, "Young master, be careful not to dirty your shoes, I’ll have someone clean this up right away."

Le Yu looked at Shuang Ye’s severed head. Her round face was swollen and purple, as if she’d been struck hard. Her eyes were wide open, staring unknowingly into some distant place, but at last, all of it turned into the dead stillness of a deep pool.

He had seen his share of corpses. On his very first day in this world, he’d seen his own dead body, and then those of Lin Jinyao and Lin Xue’en—next came the bodies of Chen Fu and the rest of the Statistical Department’s first team, and just this morning, he’d witnessed the ugly sight of Old Huo’s gang hanging themselves.

He still remembered how calm he’d felt when he shot Lin Jinyao, even though he’d been forced into it, but he thought he had already adapted to this era. "At the very least, I could take corpses in stride, calmly accept the fact that ’people can die at any time.’"

But now Le Yu realized it had all just been a delusion.

"The ’cold-blooded constitution’ from Qian Yuliu had helped me far more than I’d ever imagined. It shielded my childish worldview, let me remain calm through those ’novice days,’ but when I faced the real, bloody brutality, I realized I was still so...fragile."

"This girl, with her slightly chubby baby face, her sweet, shy smile—she was just gone. Dead."

She hadn’t died on some chaotic street, nor in a fire or rainstorm, nor had she met her end under the righteous executioner of the Imprisonment Department.

She didn’t die for ideals like Lin Jinyao, nor for a pang of awakened conscience like Chen Fu.

It wasn’t disaster, it wasn’t malice—there was no value, no meaning.

Le Yu looked at Shuang Ye’s eyes and suddenly felt like she was still looking back at him. "It was as if she wanted to say something, but I couldn’t hear it, and I couldn’t see it, either."

"What mistake did she make?" Le Yu’s voice was casual, as if he were asking about some trivial matter.

"She conspired with another male servant, Rong Yao, to steal the Grace key and elope from the mansion," Shen Hong said, his face twisting in rage and hatred. "They unlocked their Grace devices on their own and planned to escape one after the other. Rong Yao managed to slip away during the guards’ patrols."

"Luckily, heaven was watching. This girl stepped on a dead leaf while hiding in the garden’s shadows, and the guards caught her on the spot. Otherwise, she might really have gotten away."

Saying this, Shen Hong gave the nearby guard a commendatory pat on the shoulder. Le Yu looked at him and asked, "What’s your name?"

The guard was startled by the favor: "To answer the young master, my name is Hua Tu."

The others all looked at him with envy. Now that the eldest young master remembered his name, he’d surely be promoted out of guard duty someday.

Shen Hong continued, "I noticed her Grace was missing from her ankle, so I immediately checked the mansion’s roster and the Grace keys. Only hers and Rong Yao’s were gone, and since Rong Yao had vanished, it was obvious those two bastards were in on it together. After a little grilling and watching her reaction, I figured it all out."

Grace.

Le Yu looked at Shuang Ye’s left ankle and saw a faint mark there.

"With the rise of the servant system, everyone who bought them was worried about runaways. Ordinary buyers didn’t have good options—either keep the servant starved, or lock all the doors."

But servants needed to work, and starving or locking them up didn’t squeeze the most value out of them. So, the major trading companies created a device called Grace.

"From the outside, ’Grace’ was a silver bracelet or anklet, customizable with all kinds of patterns; for example, the Jing Family’s Grace devices were etched with thorns. The effect? In a word: bomb."

"Grace was made from specially crafted luminous stone, fitted with several pockets of gunpowder inside. If triggered, it would cause a localized explosion—not a wide blast, but enough to sever a limb if worn on the hand or foot."

"Triggers for a Grace explosion included forced removal, or when the luminous stone’s energy dropped below a critical threshold. And since each Grace’s stones were installed in a different order, recharging them took a compatible Light Energy Replenisher, used in the right sequence."

"Those machines stood as tall as a grown man—meant not only for the solar-charged stones, but to make sure servants couldn’t steal the chargers. Like in the Jing Mansion, the replenisher had three stone locks on it, just to keep it from going missing."

"The max time between Grace recharges varied by customer, the shortest interval being a day, the longest five. But usually, servants refilled their Grace devices daily."

"Thanks to Grace, the companies achieved maximum control over their servants—unless you dared risk losing a hand or foot, running away was impossible. And servants could still roam free for two to three days, plenty of time to do their masters’ errands and maximize productivity."

"As for why it’s worn on the limbs and not the neck? A crippled servant was worth more than a dead one."

"The only way to remove a Grace was with the original key purchased with it. Graces needed replacing every two or three years—it wasn’t rare to remove them. Sometimes, masters even freed a servant by breaking the master-servant bond as a reward."

"’The servant risks death for the master, the master is deeply moved and cancels their bond—the servant weeps with gratitude, vowing to serve for life’—it was a common urban legend in Xuanzhu County."

"As for why this explosive shackle was called ’Grace’: the Silver Blood Association decreed that as long as a servant wore one, they could claim help from any trade guild in the city. If starving, they could eat for free; if wounded, get seen at the Medical Bureau for nothing; if homeless, find a place to stay."

As long as you wore a Grace, "a servant’s food, clothing, and shelter in Xuanzhu County were all free."

"Silver Blood knew that as long as a servant lived, the profits wrung from a person would far exceed the cost in survival resources."

"Many servants did just fine—as long as they were willing to give up their lives, do as told, and endure whatever came. Their masters even protected them, after all—a servant was the master’s asset."

"But if you wanted freedom..."

"So you killed her?" Le Yu said quietly.

"Yes," Shen Hong nodded, "Whether it was stealing a Grace key or passing it between servants, both are unforgivable crimes. She refused to say where Rong Yao went, so keeping her alive would only encourage others. At times like this, you use a quick blade to warn the rest."

"Why not keep her for more questioning?"

"No need. All these bastards are shrewd—Rong Yao’s probably long gone by now, and further interrogation would get us nowhere. Besides, if she lived, some might sympathize with her. Now she’s dead, soon nobody will even remember her—only that there’s no way out for a runaway."

Sounds logical, hard to argue.

Le Yu had nothing else to say, so finally asked, "Didn’t you think to ask me first?"

Shen Hong was a bit surprised, "But young master, didn’t you say to leave all the servant discipline to me? You never liked dealing with these trivial matters."

Le Yu recalled—Jing Zhengwei really had arranged it like that.

"So this was actually a ’trivial matter’ you could hand off to anyone..."

"Suddenly, I felt drained, just standing there, not wanting to speak." Shen Hong waited a long while before asking, "If young master has no further instructions, I’ll call someone over to clean up—"

"Wait," Le Yu pointed at Shuang Ye’s corpse, "What do you plan to do with her?"

"...Young master, how do you wish to have her handled?" Shen Hong caught the implication and asked reverently.

Le Yu replied calmly, "Give her a proper burial."

"Thank you for your great kindness, young master." Zilan, silently weeping beside them, immediately knelt and gave thanks. "If Shuang Ye knew you cared for her this way, maybe she could finally rest in peace."

What the hell..."Looking around, Le Yu saw everyone looking deeply moved. Shen Hong, especially, nodded with deep conviction and said, "Young master’s words are most righteous. Though Shuang Ye schemed to steal a key and run, now that she’s been punished, we need not hold it any longer. She is still your servant and should be properly handled, to show the young master’s benevolence. Thank heavens you stopped me—or else this old servant would have erred."

Le Yu was left speechless. Maybe he simply didn’t know what to say, or maybe he just didn’t want to say anything. He waved his hand and turned to leave. Instantly, Zilan hurried after, "Young master, some of the lanterns in the mansion are out—I can carry a lamp and walk you back to your room?"

Le Yu said nothing, but nodded, agreeing silently to her company.

The two walked the winding path through the mansion, the noises from the garden fading behind them. Zilan spoke softly, "Thank you, young master."

"Thank me for what?"

"For letting Shuang Ye be buried with dignity. And for not...not punishing me."

Le Yu finally revived a little, and asked curiously, "Why would I punish you?"

"Because I lived and ate with Shuang Ye—she did something so unforgivable, and I didn’t realize or report it in time. If young master hadn’t happened by, I’m sure Chief Steward Shen would’ve decided to punish me next," Zilan fretted. "Shuang Ye, honestly, she really believed Rong Yao’s nonsense. I always thought he was slick and sweet-tongued, but never guessed he’d dare steal a Grace key..."

Zilan kept whispering complaints about the man who convinced Shuang Ye to run. Le Yu listened for a while, then suddenly asked, "Now that Shuang Ye’s dead, are you sad?"

"I am." Zilan nodded, wiping away tears. "She was my best friend. I treated her like a sister."

"So do you hate Chief Steward Shen?"

Zilan paused, "I..."

"Don’t worry, there’s no one else here," Le Yu placed a hand on her shoulder and met her gaze. "I won’t tell anyone. I just want to hear how you really feel. Shen killed Shuang Ye—do you hate him?"

Though Zilan’s eyes flickered, she still nodded, "A little, sure...but I guess it’s not like I can really—"

"Then do you hate me?"

"No."

Le Yu stared intently into Zilan’s eyes. She didn’t flinch, blinked at him, and met his look honestly: "Why would I hate you, young master?"

"Because ultimately Shen is only carrying out my orders. If I didn’t care, if I—"

"No, it’s really Shuang Ye’s fault," Zilan shook her head. "She stole a Grace key and got tricked into running off by a man—Chief Steward Shen was justified in punishing her. I only resent him for not sparing her, but you wouldn’t do something like that, young master."

"But don’t you think—without me, maybe this would never have happened—"

"How could that be? If you’d never bought us, we’d starve on the street or be sold into the Red Dream Arena. Whatever way you look at it, we’re better off now. You really have no part in what happened—why would I hate you?"

Le Yu froze, then let out a relieved murmured whisper—

"That’s right, what does any of it have to do with me..."

By now, the two had reached the door of the main bedroom. Zilan asked carefully, "Do you wish me to serve you tonight, young master?"

Le Yu saw her eager look and managed a faint smile, shaking his head. "I’m tired tonight, and after all this...you must be feeling low too. Take the night to rest."

"Yes." Zilan agreed, though a hint of disappointment crossed her face.

Qing Lan, who had been reading on the bed, heard the door and immediately put down her book and took off her glasses. She was about to greet him, but saw the young master come in, throw himself straight onto the bed, a clear "don’t talk to me, just leave me alone" message radiating from every move.

Qing Lan, reading the mood, quietly massaged his acupoints, then asked softly, "Young master, shall I turn off the light?"

The young master stayed silent. Qing Lan turned out the lamp, lay down next to him. She waited a bit and soon felt the young master move over to hold her.

"Like finally hearing the second shoe drop, my heart eased, ready for sleep. But just as I started to feel drowsy, I suddenly felt his hand moving down!"

"Was it happening now?"

"Finally, was it finally happening?"

"I was so nervous, a weird anticipation I couldn’t name mixed into my anxiety. I felt his hand sliding down, brushing parts that made me blush so hard, then further, and further—"

All the way to her feet.

"I felt him fumble a bit, and now my mind was spinning. What, so he had a foot fetish? Never noticed that before..."

Suddenly, Qing Lan felt him stop.

Then, his hand returned to its original place, not wandering anymore, acting perfectly proper, the model gentleman.

"I breathed a sigh of relief—but then was left with new questions. Why did he stop?"

"He must have just touched my left ankle—where I wear my Grace shackle. Does young master not like people wearing anklets? Will he ask me to switch to a wrist shackle tomorrow?"

"My thoughts wandered far and wide—until sleep crept in again."

But just as she was about to drift off, some inexplicable intuition jerked her awake.

No sounds, no movement, nothing—yet she just knew something had changed beside her.

She opened her eyes, and by the faint moonlight remaining, she saw his face on the pillow.

He was crying.

Even with that same lazy, impassive face, even with the look of the infamous eldest son of the Jing Family, his eyes were flowing with silent tears, soaking the pillow.

No sobs, no tremors, only uncontrollable tears—like a child who only dares to cry alone in the dark of night, so pitifully, and yet so honestly.

"I froze, staring in shock. After a long moment, I realized I had to shut my eyes and fake sleep. If the young master ever found out I saw him cry, I probably wouldn’t live to see another day."

Except...

"I forced my eyes closed, waited a while, then slowly adjusted my sleeping position, so my head rested gently against his chest."

"From that night on, our sleeping posture never changed, not once, for every night that followed."

...

...

Four days later.

In a dirty little ’women’s clinic’ on the outer city wall, a man in a black trench coat entered, face obscured.

The young, handsome Medical Officer glanced at him, hung the ’In Consultation’ sign on the door, locked up, and led him inside before saying, "What brings you to my place?"

"Had to come back, figured I’d check whether the organization had any new instructions."

Yin Minghong threw back his hood, sat down, and said, "By the way—any news out of the Jing Family lately?"

"Same old backstabbing," the Medical Officer replied, "But none of it really matters until the old bastard of the Jing Family finally dies. The only odd thing is how Jing Zhengwei’s been acting these last few days."

"What about him?"

"He killed Shen Hong."

Yin Minghong frowned, "Shen Hong was his loyal aide for years...why?"

"Far as I know, one day Jing Zhengwei suddenly looked at Shen Hong and said, ’Why are you wearing a hat?’ Then he had Mi Die snap his neck right there." The Medical Officer shrugged. "You buy that?"

"I don’t." Yin Minghong shook his head.

The Medical Officer nodded. "Me neither. Shen Hong was probably a spy from someone else, caught out by Jing Zhengwei—so he picked a random excuse to kill him."

"Anything else Jing Zhengwei’s done?"

"Supposedly killed a guard too, also under a flimsy pretense."

"He’s getting more ruthless," Yin Minghong judged. "The battle to become Patriarch has reached a fever pitch—Jing Zhengwei is at a disadvantage. No wonder he’s growing vicious and desperate...he’s losing his nerve."

The Medical Officer nodded in agreement.

"Any new instructions from the organization?"

"About that—there was something I meant to mention." The Medical Officer took out a letter. "A couple days ago, someone used your private contact method to deliver a letter."

Yin Minghong reached for it, but the Medical Officer pulled away, producing another document. "Here’s a warrant from the organization. The Star Engraving County city capture mission has failed, a former White Night Walker is suspected of major betrayal. The organization wants all White Night Walkers hunting her down now—to avenge our comrades in Star Engraving County."

"One thing at a time," Yin Minghong complained. "Do you want me to read the letter or the warrant first?"

"I want you to read both together."

The Medical Officer handed both the letter and the warrant to Yin Minghong.

Yin Minghong looked at the warrant first,

"Wanted, former White Night Walker, Yin Yinyin. Moderate combat proficiency, suspected of possessing Extreme Divine Weapon ’Saint’s Relic.’ Whereabouts unknown, possible areas of appearance: Dongyang, Chenfeng, Yanjing..."

Yin Yinyin!?

At that name, a rush of memories surged through Yin Minghong. "For a moment, my heart was filled with a tangled mess of feelings."

"Don’t just stand there gaping—read the letter," the Medical Officer urged.

Yin Minghong glanced at the signature on the letter.

This time, he didn’t just freeze.

He absolutely blanked out.

"Respectfully, Yin Yinyin."