Zhuo Qing and her companions were ushered into the grand hall, where the faint, soothing fragrance of pearwood permeated the air. Ink wash paintings adorned the walls—not of landscapes nor figures, but of the most revered musical instruments under heaven. The room was devoid of superfluous furnishings; its stark elegance conveyed a sense of aloof nobility.
As always, Gu Yun instinctively surveyed her surroundings, pacing slowly across the center of the hall. She had expected the typical delay that accompanied visits to such wealthy households, but to her surprise, a melodious, crystalline voice, as serene as a deep spring, rang out almost immediately:
"Miss Qing."
Gu Yun turned, her sharp gaze narrowing. The man before her was dressed in flowing white robes, his gait as light as the wind. With his handsome features, composed demeanor, and eyes as deep and tranquil as a mountain lake, he could effortlessly capture all attention. Only now did Gu Yun understand why Zhuo Qing had described him as "cold and pristine"—he was like drifting mist: distant, untethered, serene yet elusive.
Zhuo Qing nodded graciously and smiled.
"Young Master Su, has your health improved?"
Su Mufeng offered a faint smile.
"Thank you for your concern, Miss. I am well."
Gu Yun's keen gaze was impossible to ignore. Su Mufeng looked toward the woman staring at him from the center of the room and gave her a polite nod. The corners of his lips lifted into a smile so subtle it was nearly imperceptible. He was fascinating—never impolite, yet impossible to feel warmth from.
Zhuo Qing continued with a smile.
"This is my younger sister, Qingmo. These two gentlemen are officers from the Prefectural Court."
Su Mufeng turned to the others without surprise or irritation, and asked calmly,
"What brings you all here today?"
Lu Jin stood, clasped his hands in a respectful salute, and said with courtesy,
"Young Master Su, forgive our abrupt visit. The recent victims were once your students, and we hoped to ask a few questions."
Though Su Mufeng held no official position, his reputation was sterling. Before such an elegant and refined man, it was difficult not to respond with respect.
He nodded slightly.
"Please, ask what you will."
"Did the ladies exhibit any unusual behavior during their final lesson with you?"
"None at all," he replied with calm brevity.
"How long had you taught them?"
"Miss Si and Miss Li each attended three lessons. The princess had only two."
Maintaining his placid expression, Su Mufeng even offered,
"If you require a full list of my students, I will have it delivered to the Prefectural Court tomorrow morning."
"This..." Lu Jin was momentarily embarrassed by such ready cooperation.
"That would be most helpful," said Gu Yun, her voice sharp and clear as she stepped closer. She asked coldly,
"As their instructor, how do you feel about their deaths?"
Su Mufeng met her gaze without flinching. Despite her not being an official, he neither avoided nor grew irritated. His expression remained composed, almost emotionless.
"I was shocked. I hope the culprit is found swiftly."
Gu Yun's eyes flickered. His demeanor was disturbingly calm—so calm it was impossible to read his thoughts. Perhaps she had finally encountered a worthy adversary. Now standing directly before him, she pressed on,
"What are your thoughts on the killer's methods?"
"I do not know how the murders were committed," Su Mufeng answered with serene indifference. "I have no opinion."
Each of his replies was flawless in tone and delivery. Gu Yun continued to press forward. Zhuo Qing rose, intent on stopping her, sensing she was going too far. But just as she stood, her foot caught on Gu Yun's skirt. Gu Yun, wholly focused on Su Mufeng, stumbled forward—only managing to steady herself by grabbing his arm.
Straightening herself, she murmured an apology.
"I'm sorry."
As she tried to pull back her hand, she noticed his arm trembling. Looking up, she saw a flicker of panic on his usually stoic face—something he clearly tried to conceal. Gu Yun paused in surprise. Had a mere touch unnerved him so?
Zhuo Qing moved forward to inquire about her condition, but before she could speak, Gu Yun leaned into Su Mufeng with a soft cry:
"I think I twisted my ankle."
What nonsense! Even if she had, Gu Yun was not the type to cling to a man's embrace. Zhuo Qing stepped back, opting to watch silently.
Gu Yun could feel Su Mufeng stiffen as she leaned against him. He awkwardly pushed her toward a nearby wooden chair, his voice cold and mechanical:
"Please sit, Miss."
A cold gleam flickered in Gu Yun's eyes. She made no effort to move away and instead wrapped an arm boldly around his waist, pouting playfully,
"It hurts... I can't walk. Would you help me over?"
Su Mufeng was utterly at a loss. He pried her arm from his waist, his expression turning icy. At that moment, a harsh voice called out from the doorway:
"What are you two doing?!"
They turned to see a woman in her early thirties striding toward them. She wore a deep blue gown, her hair swept into a towering cloud-like bun adorned with delicate silver pins. With refined features and a slender, elegant frame, she was stunning—but her expression burned with fury. Her phoenix eyes glared daggers at Gu Yun.
Seeing the newcomer, Su Mufeng greeted respectfully,
"Aunt Xin."
The woman ignored him and marched directly to Gu Yun.
"Twisted your ankle, have you? Let me help you."
Before Gu Yun could respond, she was yanked roughly by the arm and flung unceremoniously into the farthest chair from Su Mufeng. Gu Yun studied the woman—this unexpected "Aunt Xin"—with interest.
The woman swept a cold glance over Lu Jin and Cheng Hang and barked impatiently,
"If you have any more questions, make it quick. Mufeng has other matters to attend to!"
Cheng Hang and Lu Jin exchanged glances, then looked to Zhuo Qing. She shook her head slightly. Just then, Gu Yun stood and laughed brightly.
"No more questions. Thank you both for your time."
With that, she strode elegantly out the door, not a trace of injury in sight...
Outside the Su residence, dusk had already cloaked the sky in resplendent hues. Crimson clouds shimmered like a dream—so breathtaking it was hard to look away. Yet no matter how glorious the sunset, night would soon swallow all its brilliance.
Stretching, Cheng Hang let out a defeated sigh.
"What a wasted afternoon."
"Not necessarily," Zhuo Qing said offhandedly.
Cheng Hang turned sharply to look at her. She and Gu Yun exchanged a knowing smile, saying nothing.
He opened his mouth to press the matter, but Lu Jin clapped a hand on his shoulder.
"We'll talk back at the Court."
Back at the Prefectural Court, before Gu Yun even had time to sit, Cheng Hang burst out,
"Is there something wrong with Su Mufeng?"
He was increasingly convinced that Qingmo had some uncanny ability—she could seem to read people just by looking at them. If she agreed to teach him, he wouldn't mind calling this much-younger girl 'Master.'
Settling leisurely onto a wooden chair, Gu Yun picked up a teacup, poured water into it with deliberate calm, and handed it to Zhuo Qing. Only then did she fill a second cup for herself. Cheng Hang, impatient, seized the teapot and filled her cup himself.
"Well? Is there something wrong with him?"
"There is," Gu Yun replied, not one to tease when he was this attentive.
"He's the killer?!" Cheng Hang's eyes widened...