Chapter Forty-Seven: The Surname Zuoqiu

She walked over without revealing any emotion, stopping three steps from the corpse of the young woman.

“May I ask, young master, is there anything you require of this blind girl? I have felt uneasy these past days—when will you let me return home?” Her voice was soft, her expression composed and calm.

A chill stirred within her, yet she dared not turn away, for that would betray her knowledge of what had happened.

“Come closer, and I shall speak to you,” the man said, as if watching a play, his alluring features tinged with amusement.

With no choice, she took another step, approaching him. The smell of blood grew thicker, nearly making her retch.

“Compared to ordinary women, I find I prefer you, blind girl. At least you see nothing at all.” He reached out, touching her head, brushing aside the fringe that veiled her eyes, gazing into those empty sockets.

Bloodsnow couldn’t help but tilt her head, avoiding his touch.

But he was not a man to pity beauty; he seized her chin firmly, forcing her to face him, his eyes locked upon her hollow gaze.

“I have heard that the Kingdom of Wu is a land of propriety and ceremony, but I did not know these were your rites, your manners,” Bloodsnow said, her tone ringing out as she jerked her head away, shaking off his hand. Anger flickered in her heart. As a captive, she was already aggrieved, and this man was ever brazen with his hands.

She had guessed boldly from the sachet hanging above the bed. It was said that in Wu, it was a tradition to hang sachets as a blessing. Thus, they must be people of Wu.

The man’s expression shifted slightly, though his eyes remained full of amusement.

“Don’t be angry.” As he spoke, he plucked a purple blossom from a flowering tree, playing with it before holding it above Bloodsnow’s head, as if measuring where it would look best. “Though I must say, you’re far more spirited when cross.”

“I had thought you cherished flowers, young master, but it seems you have no intention of protecting them.” Feeling the dead girl’s body lying at her feet, her face grew cold.

“Hmph. People are like flowers—without pruning, they become overgrown and wild,” he said with a pointed look, then gently tucked the blossom into her hair.

Bloodsnow tried to turn away, but he caught her head and held it still, his tone intimate. “Don’t worry, the flower won’t harm you, nor is it sharp enough to pierce your skull.” His long fingers pinched the stem with a feigned tenderness.

His gaze fell, intent on fixing the flower in her hair.

But as the stem brushed her scalp, Bloodsnow realized he was even more dangerous than she had supposed.

Perhaps he killed without a second thought, caring nothing for human life—a flaw common to those who dwelled in power for too long.

“Red blossoms suit a beauty. Though your looks are plain and elegant, you and this flower are a perfect match.” Seeing the flower bloom quietly in her modest hair, a trace of admiration glimmered in his eyes.

“To a blind girl like me, everything is much the same. There’s no need for you to trouble yourself, young master.” She could feel his gaze lingering on her face—cold and inscrutable, making it impossible to tell what he thought.

He reached out to toy with a lock of her hair draped over her shoulder.

“Zuo Qiu is my surname. From now on, call me Zuo Qiu,” he said suddenly, catching Bloodsnow off guard.

“How am I to know if you speak the truth?” Her tone remained even, determined to draw a clear line between them.

“There is only one surname Zuo Qiu.” He curled his lips in a wicked smile, which explained why the maid’s end had been so tragic.

Zuo Qiu?

She had heard of that name. If it was true, their motives for capturing her were obvious.

“Why so silent? With your cleverness, you’ve surely guessed as much—just as you guessed I was from Wu. If not, then I have overestimated you.” He watched her calm face closely, missing no detail.

“Perhaps you do overestimate me, Young Master Zuo Qiu.”

“Then I must redefine the purpose of your existence.” He smiled enchantingly, a hint of wickedness at his lips.

For a moment, the air grew cold, yet Zuo Qiu’s meaningful smile lingered, making it seem as if they were lovers speaking in riddles, not adversaries locked in silent combat.

A hidden guard revealed himself, bowed to Zuo Qiu, then moved forward to drag away the lifeless maid from the ground, leaving a trail of crimson as lovely and vivid as crushed petals.

The scent of blood thickened, then was swept away on the wind, finally masked by the fragrance of flowers.

Watching the winding trail of blood, he murmured, “That is why there is nothing wrong with choosing blind or deaf girls. They never covet what they cannot have, nor do they harbor thoughts they should not possess.”

Bloodsnow thought she ought to see this man, Zuo Qiu, from another angle.

Night deepened. The manor was silent, but she tossed and turned, unable to sleep.

Several days passed, and her heart gradually eased. At least her mother and the others must be safe, or Zuo Qiu would not allow her such peace. If anything had happened, word would have reached her by now.

But since her captors were from Wu, they would not linger in Ji for long. She had already sensed preparations for departure, and that she was to be taken with them.

Naturally, she could not resign herself to captivity, or she would truly become a prisoner.

The night grew colder. In the deepest hours, she slipped quietly from her room. The manor seemed hushed, with neither surveillance nor threat.

Yet the absence of danger was, in itself, the greatest danger.

Clad in pale garments, she crept into a thicket, moving silently, curiosity in her every action. At last she crouched, gathering a handful of earth in her palm, then lifted her hand toward the dim moonlight, making a silent gesture. It seemed as though a silver light descended from above.

She pressed the light between her palms, silently intoning, “With my power, let me vanish without trace.” Silver radiance swept over her body, and before it could be clearly seen, she had disappeared.

The thicket was still; there was no trace of the girl.

But if one looked carefully, perhaps one might spot a firefly weaving through the air, drifting as if guiding someone’s way.

“Master, we depart in two days. Is there anything else you require of your servant?” Yun Wu knelt some distance away, respectfully addressing the silhouette behind the window.

“Apart from the blind girl’s identity remaining unconfirmed, there seems little amiss,” the figure replied, propping his head lazily, his tone making Yun Wu break out in a cold sweat. “This is my failing. I beg for your punishment, Master.”

“It truly is your failing,” Zuo Qiu said, but offered no further reproach.

“Thank you, Master, for your generosity.” Yun Wu bowed in relief.

“How fares King Ji? I’d hoped to congratulate him on his queen’s investiture along the way, but alas…” There was no regret in his voice.

King Ji?

Hearing that name, Bloodsnow, hidden nearby, could not help but prick up her ears, eager for any news of him.

“It’s said the blind queen’s illness is most peculiar. She remains secluded in the palace, unseen for some time. Yet King Ji dotes on her greatly, visiting her daily and resting by her side—they are truly devoted,” Yun Wu replied faithfully.

“Devoted?” Zuo Qiu sneered, unconvinced.

“Master, now that we have found the blind girl, perhaps the blind queen is not the one we seek, so—”

“I know your meaning. Still, it amuses me that Ji Wu Qing is so enamored with a blind girl. Is there any love in a royal house?” He seemed to laugh, though the silhouette behind the window did not stir, betraying nothing of his true expression.

Bloodsnow listened in silence from her hidden corner, slightly moved, though she could not say why.

Distracted, she was nearly caught unawares as a biting wind swept toward her, laden with killing intent.

She stiffened, but managed to dodge in time. A sharp, leaf-shaped dart embedded itself in the courtyard wall beside her, splitting the stone with its force.

“Who is eavesdropping? Come out and show yourself,” came the cold challenge—Zuo Qiu’s style, to strike first and question later.

A window shattered, clearly by Zuo Qiu’s hand.

At once, hidden guards appeared, surrounding the courtyard.

But there was no sign of any intruder.

“Master…”

“They got away.” He emerged from his room, his robe silver in the moonlight, long hair flowing behind like a dark cloak. His face was impassive, but his narrow phoenix eyes burned with anger and suspicion.

Bloodsnow hurried back to her room and lay down, feigning sleep as if nothing had happened.

Sure enough, as soon as she reached her bed, Zuo Qiu arrived silently.

The room was shrouded in darkness, but Zuo Qiu was unperturbed, lighting a candle. Its bright glow illuminated the girl on the bed, her brows knit and hands clutching the coverlet in restless sleep.

He approached, leaning over, his long hair nearly brushing the floor.

Bloodsnow kept her eyes closed, pretending to sleep, ever alert to his movements.

Fortunately, he did nothing, quietly withdrawing as if he had never come.

Bloodsnow let out a sigh of relief. She was exhausted.

And so, the night passed without further incident.