“Xiaozhou, close your eyes.”
Song Xiaozhou heard the words again, and with a jolt, he woke up, sitting bolt upright with his back drenched in sweat.
He sat blankly for a while before remembering what had happened last night, Lu Heng had killed all those men. The courtyard was filled with corpses, and the stench of blood was overwhelming. Whether by accident or on purpose, Lu Heng let them scream and struggle, toying with them like a cat toys with a mouse. The blood soaked into the blue bricks of the courtyard, gurgling and flowing to Song Xiaozhou’s feet.
He was barefoot, his body tense. When his toes touched the warm blood, his mind went blank for a moment. He slowly realized what it was and bit his lips tightly. He was only a seventeen-year-old boy; no matter how brave he was, he had never killed anyone.
Steward Zheng shrieked in terror, trying desperately to run, but the courtyard was filled with ghosts and specters. There was no escape.
The unknown was the most terrifying. They couldn’t see Lu Heng, couldn’t see this malevolent spirit killing in the night. All they could do was wait to be slaughtered.
From across the severed limbs and dismembered bodies, Lu Heng held a sword he had grabbed. He flicked the blood from the tip. Of the dozen men, only Steward Zheng remained alive. He seemed satisfied, smiling with blood-red eyes. His handsome brow carried a sort of demonic charm, making him seem completely different from his usual self.
Steward Zheng was nearly insane with fear, muttering, “Don’t kill me, Eldest Young Master, I was wrong; please spare my life.” His panicked eyes fell on Song Xiaozhou, and he scrambled and crawled towards him, tears and snot streaming down his face. “Young Madam… Young Madam, I beg you, spare me! I was wrong… I’ll never dare to do it again!”
Song Xiaozhou shivered as the man grabbed him.
Lu Heng lifted his head and looked at Song Xiaozhou.
Song Xiaozhou closed his eyes as told, yet his lashes quivered faintly, betraying the fear that made him too afraid to open them again.
Lu Heng thought, ‘Song Xiaozhou was scared.’ He actually had many ways to kill without spilling blood, but Song Xiaozhou was so well-behaved, so perfectly compliant and delicious, that Lu Heng couldn’t resist letting him see his own brutality and cruelty. He was a malevolent spirit to begin with. No matter how gentle and refined he seemed, he was not a living person.
Lu Heng slowly approached him. Steward Zheng seemed to sense something and began to tremble like a leaf, banging his head on the ground repeatedly. He hit so hard that blood flowed freely, making him a horrific and miserable sight.
Lu Heng’s eyes landed on Steward Zheng’s hand clutching Song Xiaozhou’s calf, shaking as though clinging to his last hope. The corners of Lu Heng’s mouth lifted, and with a casual raise of his hand, a pitiful cry echoed out.
Song Xiaozhou’s eyes snapped open.
Lu Heng had cut off Steward Zheng’s right hand, and the blood splattered onto Song Xiaozhou’s undergarments. Song Xiaozhou’s complexion turned deathly pale, his eyes staring wide and his mouth hanging open, yet no words managed to escape his lips.
The air seemed to freeze. Song Xiaozhou looked down, then raised his head to stare blankly at Lu Heng. Lu Heng was looking back at him. Their eyes met, and the look of terror in Song Xiaozhou’s eyes felt like a needle in Lu Heng’s heart. A torrent of emotions flashed through him in that instant, and he suddenly felt a pang of regret. Why did I have to scare him like that?
He’s only a child.
Lu Heng tossed the sword away and covered Song Xiaozhou’s eyes with his palm. Song Xiaozhou didn’t say a word.
With the courtyard in ruins, resembling a scene from hell, Lu Heng simply lifted Song Xiaozhou into his arms and carried him outside. By the well, he placed him on the stone ledge to sit. Drawing water with a wooden bucket, Lu Heng knelt at his feet, cradled them in his hands, and slowly washed away the blood with the cool well water, bit by bit.
As if waking from a dream, Song Xiaozhou instinctively tried to pull his feet back, but they were held firmly in the man’s cool hands.
“Don’t move.” Lu Heng said softly.
Song Xiaozhou looked down. Lu Heng’s white robes remained immaculate, his long, fair fingers as flawless as carved jade. With a gentle touch, he carefully cleansed the blood from Song Xiaozhou’s feet, hands that only moments ago had dealt death now moving with unexpected tenderness. For some reason, Song Xiaozhou’s eyes suddenly turned red, and tears began to fall one by one.
Lu Heng froze. The tears were scalding, landing on the back of his hand, and their heat made his heart tremble.
He turned his hand over, catching the falling tears, and for once seemed a little flustered. “…Why are you crying?”
Lu Heng reached out to touch Song Xiaozhou’s cheek, but Song Xiaozhou turned his head to dodge. Lu Heng forcefully grabbed his chin, making him look straight ahead. Unable to escape, the boy’s reddened eyes were glistening and watery, staring at Lu Heng in a manner that was both innocent and defiant.
He didn’t have particularly striking features, but perhaps the moonlight that night was too beautiful. Lu Heng found himself momentarily dazed.
Song Xiaozhou didn’t know why he was crying either. The tears kept falling uncontrollably, and he was hiccuping, wiping his tears away roughly. “Who… hiccup… who’s… hiccup… crying?”
Lu Heng didn’t know whether to laugh or comfort him. He tried to wipe away the tears for him, but Song Xiaozhou immediately slapped his hand away, hiccuping as he spoke in fragmented sentences, “Hiccup… you’re dirty—you… hiccup… you touched… my feet.”
Lu Heng was left speechless.
Song Xiaozhou didn’t mention what had happened in the courtyard. After his hiccuping subsided, he grew tired. Lu Heng cradled him by the knees and beneath his bottom, walking step by step.
Song Xiaozhou drowsily lay on Lu Heng’s back with his arms wrapped around his neck, his mind wandering. He thought, Lu Heng is a ghost, like the malevolent spirits in folk tales who claim lives… but how did Lu Heng become a vengeful ghost?
As he thought more, he felt as if he was walking on a cloud, unsure if he was in reality or a dream. Lu Heng’s voice was calm as he said to him, “Xiaozhou, this is what a real ghost is like.”
The corpses in the courtyard were gone. If it weren’t for the dark red color soaked into the blue bricks, Song Xiaozhou would have thought it was truly just a nightmare.
There had been so much commotion last night, yet the Lu family guards stationed outside Jing’an Courtyard made no sound. Song Xiaozhou couldn’t help but wonder if he would have died there last night if not for Lu Heng.
Did the Lu family guards really not know that people had broken in?
The more Song Xiaozhou dwelled on it, the colder his spine grew. Though outsiders claimed the Lu brothers shared a harmonious bond, what he had witnessed was ruthless rivalry tainted with blood and killing intent that chilled him to the core. He remembered Lu Heng’s outstandingly clean and elegant appearance, and his mind replayed the image of him viciously and cruelly taking lives. To say he wasn’t afraid was a lie; no one is unafraid of death. Yet, there was another, unidentifiable emotion pressing down on his fear from a distance.
Full of inner turmoil, Song Xiaozhou sat with his knees hugged to his chest, lost in thought. All of a sudden, his gaze fell upon the memorial tablet on the table, and on impulse, he reached out and lifted it.
He instinctively reached out to trace the name engraved on the tablet, meticulously outlining each stroke of “Lu Heng.” The tablet was cold to the touch, just like Lu Heng’s hand. Song Xiaozhou wanted to see Lu Heng, yet he was also a little afraid, having been so thoroughly terrified.
Perhaps Lu Heng knew this, as he didn’t appear for several days.
Song Xiaozhou tapped the memorial tablet and in a haze of drowsiness recalled something. Half-dreaming, half-awake, he choked out a tearful murmur toward Lu Heng, “Wu… you nearly scared me to death…”
Lu Heng had been silent for a moment before saying, “I’m sorry.”
