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墨書 Inktalez
He sketched the waterways of the salt transport, along with the hidden distribution of secret piles along the river.
"This is Prince Jing's men," he rasped, his voice devoid of any warmth.
Those secret piles, those concealed markers, could only be recognized by someone who had once been part of that circle.
He drew slowly, each stroke resembling the outline of a death trap.
What appeared to be normal salt transport routes had long been woven into a vast net, capturing far more than just white salt.
Under the dim glow of the oil lamp, I stitched together quilt covers customized for the households in town.
The needle danced through the fabric, threads entwining as if weaving a facade of peace.
I carefully concealed the patterns related to Liu Family's illicit arms trade deep within the most inconspicuous designs.
This was evidence, my only bargaining chip.
If we were pushed to the brink, these "crimes" hidden among ordinary folk might just carve out a path for survival.
A slight sting pricked my fingertip as the needle pierced my skin.
The droplet of blood was quickly absorbed by the thread, leaving no trace, much like the pain we tried to conceal.
As night deepened, faint sounds drifted from the courtyard.
It wasn't a cat or the rustling of leaves in the wind; this sound was subtle yet carried an air of deliberate concealment.
Xiao Yuan suddenly opened his eyes, like a beast that had been lying in wait for too long.
He rose without making a sound, blending into the darkness of the night.
Then came a brief muffled thud, akin to a bone snapping, followed by something hitting the ground.
He dragged a man in black inside, as if he were carrying a dead chicken.
The man's wrist was twisted at a strange angle, clearly broken by his bare hands.
A quiver was found on him.
The quiver was made of ordinary material, but prominently embroidered with a strong character: "Jing."
My heart sank like it had been doused in ice water.
I recognized that character; it represented the name that should never be touched.
The night wind carried a chill, sweeping through the courtyard, failing to disperse the gloom in my heart.
After Xiao Yuan brought back the quiver embroidered with the character "Jing," we all understood that some things could not be avoided.
It was not a coincidence, nor a misunderstanding; it was aimed directly at us.
The next morning, a gilded invitation arrived at the courtyard door.
There was no signature on the invitation, only a vague message asking me to meet in the most secluded teahouse in town.
I knew this was a trap, but I had no choice but to go.
The quiver was a warning; the invitation was a declaration.
I went, and Xiao Yuan insisted on following me. He sat downstairs like a silent stone statue.
I ascended alone and pushed open the door to the private room.
The fragrance of tea wafted through the air, and the faint sound of silk and bamboo music could be heard. Outside the window lay the ordinary streets of the town.
In the corner, a storyteller was passionately recounting the tale of "The Salt Woman's Injustice."
It was a story I had casually fabricated, merely to create an opportunity to hide evidence.
But today, the storyteller's voice was particularly hoarse and fervent. Suddenly, he changed his tone, his voice sharp and piercing:
"…The salt cart overturned, blood and tears flowed; collusion between officials and merchants, grievances never cease! Twenty years ago, the loyal soul departed; half a jade pendant concealed through the ages!"
My heart raced; the mention of "half a jade pendant" felt like a dagger piercing through me.
As soon as the storyteller finished his words, a figure emerged from behind the screen.
Dressed in a dark robe, his ink-black hair was tied up with a white jade hairpin. His face was pale and delicate, yet his gaze was deep as an abyss.
He stood there, exuding an oppressive aura that felt suffocating, like the night itself.
"Lady Su, does the story still resonate with you?" he spoke, his voice low yet imbued with an undeniable authority.
I recognized him; I had seen him from afar during the banquet at the Liu Family. He was Prince Jing, who held sway over military and political affairs in the region.
He walked slowly to the table and took a seat, retrieving something from his sleeve.
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