Master Huozhai was dead—in a manner eerily similar to Iwasaki Shun, absurdly, impossibly dead. As details of his death gradually leaked to the media, the case ignited a firestorm of online debate. Though the lab records and ledgers never surfaced on the internet, people naturally connected Huozhai's death to Iwasaki's, dragging the nearly forgotten Iwasaki case back into the public eye.
The most tangible result of the Yanzhou expedition was, of course, the rescue of sixteen child victims—Newlanders, Seven Islanders, and even a few whites and Kantoese. Asha had them under her protection in Yanzhou. After Huozhai's death, she distrusted the Yanzhou police completely, vetoing their "witness protection program" outright and setting up a safe house near a Yanzhou Corps facility instead.
Back in Jinshui, Asha sought out Shen Daoyu and asked to join the October Society. She hoped to use the Society's media connections to find the children's families—or, failing that, to find them suitable adoptive homes. Shen readily agreed; the granddaughter of the Yanzhou Corps commander was a formidable ally.
Today's October Society meeting was devoted to Chen Li and Asha's Yanzhou adventure. Chen Li began by explaining that he had gone to Yanzhou because he'd discovered records of Iwasaki's frequent visits there—he could hardly admit he'd been investigating Ding Dejin. He then described the Egoless Sect's rituals: the blood abhisheka, the "Sister-Whip," the dark labyrinth of bomb shelter tunnels. He showed copies of the sect's ledgers—direct evidence of Iwasaki's involvement in human trafficking. Each revelation sent shockwaves through the room; with every sentence, the whispers and sobs grew louder. When he spoke of the rescued children, several of the young women were in tears.
Once the room had settled, Shen Daoyu brought Asha forward: "Alexandra Borodinova is a junior in the School of Arts, majoring in art history and philosophy. She was also a firsthand witness to the Yanzhou Egoless Sect case and played a crucial role in the arrest of its leader, Master Huozhai. She's now joining our Society. Please welcome her."
Shen didn't mention Asha's background, but Asha was happy to volunteer it: "My Serian name is Wei Zishan—just call me Asha. I'm the granddaughter of Lieutenant General Murat Borodinov, commander of the Yanzhou Corps. In the Egoless Sect case, I worked with Chen Li, using the Corps to eliminate the cult. Unfortunately, even though we captured the leader, he died in prison—and the investigation died with him. Our biggest achievement was rescuing over a dozen children, most of them from the Seven Islands. I'm hoping the October Society can use its media connections to help find their families—or at least find them adoptive homes."
Asha displayed photos of the rescued children, each with a file. She clicked on one—a boy with thick eyebrows and big eyes, staring timidly at the camera. "Take this boy," she said. "In the sect, they called him 'Doggy.' He's eleven, from Chuzan in the Seven Islands. Three months ago, terrorists attacked his village, killed his entire family, and trafficked him to Newland. Half a month ago, he was sold to the Egoless Sect. Because he was good-looking, the sect leadership 'adopted' him—which meant he became their catamite. They'd even scheduled a castration for him. If we hadn't rescued him, it would have been done by now. He told us he made a friend in the cult—another boy his age, a Newlander. They encouraged each other in their daily terror. Then one day, that boy was taken away and never came back."
She stopped, unable to continue, sobbing. "The boy we found in the back hall... that was him."
Asha couldn't go on. Shen Daoyu guided her back to her seat, comforted her briefly, then took the podium himself: "More than half of these children are from the Seven Islands, and their stories are all similar—abducted, trafficked, sold to the Egoless Sect. Incidentally, few of the sect's children survived beyond six months. Which brings us to a question: Newlander children might still have families to return to, but what about these foreign children? Their families have already been destroyed—can we send them back to a war zone?"
Shen paused, waiting for a response. Xia Yu was the first to recover: "The best course is to secure refugee status for them and find adoptive families."
Shen nodded approvingly: "This is a valuable opportunity for practical experience. I hope all October Society members will throw their weight behind this. The greatest obstacle is that, in Newland's political context, Seven Islanders occupy a peculiar position—for historical reasons, they face uniquely complex challenges. Today, let's discuss the source of these children—the Seven Islands question."
The Seven Islands are archipelagos that lay southeast of Newland, south of Kanto. Comprising seven major island groups and thousands of smaller islands, it was rich in natural resources and commanded vital international shipping lanes—its geopolitical importance was immense. Each of the seven major groups had its own long-established independent government; the region's ethnic, religious, and cultural makeup was extraordinarily complex, and development varied wildly from state to state. The Seven Islands and Kanto had a long history of military conflict, with five major wars already fought. Among them, Chuzan—the closest to Kanto—had suffered the most severe invasion, losing more than half its territory to Kantoese colonies, split into two main parts: Gyokujo Island and the Western Territories, with the entire region under a protracted Kanto blockade, leaving its economy in ruins. Even its original name, "Urasoe", had been forcibly replaced by Kantoese colonial administration with the Kantoese-style appellation "Chuzan". Meanwhile, some other Seven Islands states, closely tied to Newland—some even hosting Newland garrisons—had grown wealthy selling oil.
Economics, politics, culture, religion, resources, war—every conceivable source of conflict in human society converged in the Seven Islands, making it the world's most complex and volatile powder keg. In the era of globalization, population flows had intensified, and large numbers of Seven Islanders had emigrated worldwide, becoming a source of instability everywhere. Newland, as the world's primary immigrant destination, felt this most acutely.
Newland's political climate on the Seven Islands question shifted dramatically with each change of government. Because the issue was deeply entangled with Kanto, during Liberal Party administrations it was unmentionable in classrooms—sympathy for the Seven Islands could get you reported for "anti-Kanto sentiment" by Kantoese, while supporting Kanto could get you reported for "racial discrimination" by Seven Islanders. Either way, the accused would face serious consequences. But under the current Civic Party administration—Zhao Wenlong's government, known for its anti-immigrant and pro-Kanto stance—the Seven Islands had once again become a permissible topic of discussion—albeit only from the negative side. Some, eager for attention, openly denounced Seven Islanders as "inferior" and praised Kantoese as "superior"—and still attracted a large following.
In any case, open discussion of the Seven Islands on campus was risky. University students leaned heavily toward the Liberal Party, and conflicts over this issue were common—teachers and students alike had been punished for their views. Even Shen Daoyu, bold as he was, would only discuss the topic within the October Society—and strictly forbade note-taking.
Under such political constraints, the media broadcast only Kantoese narrative, leaving Newlanders with a very limited understanding of the Seven Islands. Seeing was believing, and the people who knew the Seven Islands best were Seven Islanders themselves. So Shen asked Qiu Yiming, a Seven Islander student in the October Society, to lead today's discussion.
Qiu Yiming was short and thin, wearing glasses, with a scholarly air. Dark circles under his eyes and messy hair made him look exhausted; his haggard face and plain clothes made him seem less like a medical student and more like a weathered courier or laborer.
He began with his name: "My Serian name is Qiu Yiming. My Seven Islands name is Mayama. Among us common people of the Seven Islands, we originally had no 'myoji'—that is, no family names. In ancient times, the Seven Islands were relatively isolated; surnames were a privilege of the nobility. Commoners like me usually had names prefixed with 'Ma' or 'Si'—basically, 'child of a mountain dweller.' But in modern times, as Kantoese influence expanded into the Seven Islands, we were passively drawn into the international order. Kanto not only renamed our country—they also, following Kantoese custom, demanded that we adopt surnames. Yet we generally refused Kanto-style names; instead, we mixed them with Serian names. Our family took 'Qiu' as our surname—literally meaning is "mountain". We were mountain farmers, and we took pride in naming ourselves after our homeland.
"I'm from Tamagusuku Island, Urasoe—that is what we call it. In Kantoese official documents, they force the use of 'Gyokujo Island' and 'Chuzan' instead—but we reject them, cause those are not names of our country. I came to Newland on a government scholarship five years ago, graduated from JSU's biology department this summer, and I am now pursuing an MD. My goal is to learn the world's most advanced medical technology and bring it back to the Seven Islands—to contribute to my homeland.
"My country has suffered brutal invasion by Kanto, especially my home, Tamagusuku, which is under a permanent blockade. In fact, I escaped Tamagusuku by smuggling myself out five years ago, and I've never returned. I have only intermittent contact with my family—I know that Tamagusuku lacks water, electricity, food, fuel, and internet, and its people suffer daily humiliation and the constant threat of death at Kantoese soldiers' hands.
"A neighbor's daughter—only fifteen—worked as a housekeeper for an international organization to help support her family. One day, on her way to work, Kantoese soldiers dragged her into an alley, raped her, and killed her. While she was still alive, they slit her belly open with bayonets, pulled out her intestines, and strangled her with them. On my street, a family lost both parents in a Kantoese bombing. A twelve-year-old sister and her eight-year-old brother were left to fend for themselves. One day, as they went to fetch water, the sister was shot by nearby Kantoese soldiers using her as target practice. She screamed in agony; her brother ran to help her, and both were killed by a grenade. Kantoese soldiers also held killing contests on Tamagusuku—shooting civilians at will, leaving bodies for wild dogs. They didn't spare even those with white flags raised. They claimed not to know what a white flag meant. These are things I saw, heard, and experienced firsthand growing up.
"So when I came to Newland, I joined the Free Fleet Alliance. We've been trying to break Kantoese illegal blockade and deliver supplies to Tamagusuku—not weapons, but humanitarian aid: food, water, medicine, medical equipment. But even so, Kanto boards our ships on the pretext that the cargo 'might strengthen resistance,' seizes our vessels in international waters, confiscates humanitarian supplies, and illegally detains our unarmed crew. If one out of ten runs succeeds, we thank our stars.
"But we won't give up. Giving up is surrender. Giving up is betrayal. Our only hope is persistence—persistence means victory, even if countless people die before that victory comes, as they have for decades. In Newland, it's easy to propagandize for Kanto, but for us Seven Islanders to raise our voices is incredibly hard. If I said these things publicly on campus, I'd be reported as an 'anti-Kanto element' and expelled.
"So I'm profoundly grateful to Professor Shen for giving me this platform today. The more people know what's happening, the greater the impact—and the greater the chance for change. I'm a practical person. If I have one dream, it's liberation—liberation for my homeland, for my country, for all the oppressed."
"May the Seven Islands be free. May the world find peace."
In that small classroom, the students fell silent—then burst into thunderous applause. Qiu Yiming's speech came from the depths of his soul; tears streamed down his face. Everyone was moved. Chen Li recalled a line from a poem: "Why are my eyes forever brimming with tears? Because I love this land so deeply."
Newlanders respected true patriots. When Shen explained that Qiu Yiming donated most of his scholarship and part-time earnings to the Free Fleet Alliance, and had even joined several blockade-breaking voyages, even Chen Li had to admire him. That frail medical student was a man of steel.
To provide a more objective view of the Seven Islands, Shen next invited Ding Dejin, who had been stationed there, to brief them on Newland's strategy and deployment.
"I was stationed in the Seven Islands from Year 236 to 238, as an Air Force network technician. My unit was based in Naha, the old capital of Chuzan—now the capital of Kantoese colony, the 'Southeast Circuit.'" Ding projected a map of Chuzan. "Chuzan is small—less than 25,000 square kilometers total, and fragmented by its island geography. Hirata Island, where Naha sits, is the largest. It's now fully occupied by Kanto, with its population expelled to the surrounding smaller islands—present-day Gyokujo and the Western Territories.
"Gyokujo is 365 square kilometers; the Western Territories total 5,800 square kilometers. That means Chuzan has lost about 75 percent of its land. Gyokujo now has a population of about two million—over 5,500 people per square kilometer, an extremely high density. By contrast, the Western Territories have about three million people, at roughly 500 per square kilometer—a more normal figure.
"The root cause of this abnormality is Kantoese invasion and blockade. Chuzan is geographically split into two disconnected halves, which has created a huge political rift. Gyokujo is controlled by the Chuzan United Front—a typical anti-Kanto resistance organization. They've developed under blockade, using makeshift submarines and speedboats to maintain external contact and obtain supplies, surviving on international aid. In the past, the Front was weak, relying on lone-wolf raids and suicide bombings—which is why many people had negative views of Seven Islanders. When I first enlisted, I was warned: never approach a Seven Islander asking for help—he might have a bomb hidden under his clothes, waiting to take you with him."
Qiu Yiming raised his hand and interrupted: "Let me interject—we didn't choose suicide bombings because we wanted to. Kanto destroyed our homes—and we weren't allowed to resist? We had no modern weapons—no artillery, no aircraft, nothing but our own bodies. So we fought with our bare hands. Take an old woman—her husband, sons, daughters, grandchildren—all killed by Kanto. In her grief and rage, she begged to join the Front. They refused at first—she was seventy. But she said if they didn't take her, she'd act alone, even if it meant certain death. In the end, they relented, and she charged at Kantoese soldiers with explosives. Is suicide bombing barbaric? Of course. But not nearly as barbaric as what Kanto has done in the Seven Islands. Without Kantoese barbarism, there would be no barbaric vengeance."
Ding nodded in agreement: "No one chooses terrorism willingly. I understand that. And times change—the forms of struggle evolve. Back then, the technological gap was so vast that even small gains cost the Front dearly. But after being scattered and reorganized multiple times, they've learned and adapted. They've abandoned suicide bombings and now focus on small-scale sabotage and guerrilla warfare.
"During my tour, I witnessed many clashes between the Front and Kanto. Their pattern is to use drones and rockets—not to maximize kills, but to drain Kantoese air-defense missiles. Technology advances, and the logic of war changes. Drone technology is now cheap and accessible; the Chuzan people can assemble them by hand in underground tunnels for about 20,000 yuan each. But Kantoese interceptor missiles cost 4 million yuan each—two hundred times more. Every interception is a financial loss for Kanto. But if they don't intercept, and drones and rockets hit the cities, the myth of Kantoese invincibility collapses—and their colonial economy would be devastated."
Ding then showed a recent news report: Kantoese military claimed its fighters had struck three "terrorist infrastructure" targets on Gyokujo. Subsequently, 3,700 rockets were fired from Gyokujo toward the Southeast Circuit; 540 failed and landed within Gyokujo itself; Kantoese anti-missile system achieved a 90 percent interception rate. The accompanying photo showed Naha at night: on one side, Front rockets falling like meteors; on the other, Kantoese interceptors curving to meet them—trails of light crisscrossing the sky like children's graffiti.
Ding continued: "Kantoese strategy was to pack the Chuzan people onto Gyokujo, create overcrowding and scarcity, starve them out, then annex the island. Meanwhile, they claimed the Front's resistance was the cause. The Western Territories' rulers, by contrast, chose surrender, maintained a semblance of civilization, and—after strict screening—were even allowed to work in Kanto. This contrast—the stick and the carrot—was designed to break Chuzan's will to resist and divide them.
"But Kanto is a small nation, surrounded by enemies, with internal divisions between the colony and the homeland. They face multiple contradictions of their own. The Front's strategy is to trade time for space—to wait for Kanto to exhaust itself in this lopsided attrition war. Only then can they seize the initiative. The people who die in these conflicts are the price of that strategy. So I agree with Qiu Yiming: small, weak nations fighting hegemony have no shortcut—they can only fight with everything they have."
"So both sides are enduring, waiting for an opening. Kanto waits for Gyokujo to collapse; Gyokujo waits for Kanto to show weakness." Xia Yu summarized, then asked: "Ding, who do you think has more stamina—who can hold out longer?"
Ding smiled and shook his head: "That's not a question for me—ask the people of Gyokujo."
All eyes turned to Qiu Yiming. He answered without hesitation: "We've already lost everything. What do we have to fear? It's the Kantoese who can't endure economic turmoil—what can they bear?" He paused, hesitating, then added: "And Newlanders. Without Newland's support, Kanto couldn't have invaded us. Are Newlanders ready for a long war? Are they ready to face shipping disruptions, soaring oil prices, economic collapse? Can Newlanders hold out?"
The room fell silent. No one could answer. Finally, Xia Yu said: "Not everyone supports it..."
"Of course not!" Qiu Yiming nodded, his gaze sharpening. "Even your President Zhao Wenlong doesn't want to continue. He wants to pull out of the Seven Islands—bring people, money, resources back to Newland. Stop being the world's policeman, become a local warlord. With Newland's wealth, it could prosper another hundred years. But the question is—can he pull it off?"
"Zhao Wenlong is a businessman," Shen Daoyu picked up the thread. "He's good at counting costs, and he won't do a losing deal. In twenty years, Newland has invested 8 trillion dollars in maintaining its military presence in the Seven Islands, directly and indirectly causing five million deaths. And the result? Overseas military operations have become a bleeding wound for the country. The cost of maintaining hegemony far exceeds the return. So Zhao Wenlong wants to retreat to Newland—that's only natural."
"But it won't be easy," Xia Yu said softly, but clearly enough for all to hear. "Newland's big capital has its core interests overseas. On the Seven Islands, both parties' interests are aligned. Zhao Wenlong wants to withdraw, but he can't even get his own Civic Party on board."
"Exactly." Shen nodded. "Strategically, 'Retreat to Newland' is necessary. Politically, it's impossible—at least, it won't go as smoothly as Zhao Wenlong hopes."
After the October Society meeting ended, Chen Li stayed behind. So did Ding Dejin.
This wasn't surprising. It would have been stranger if Ding, knowing Chen Li had gone to Yanzhou, to Tiannü Mountain, and investigated the Egoless Sect, had remained silent.
"Chen Li, let's speak plainly," Ding said. He'd clearly been thinking about this for a long time and had decided on a direct approach. "You destroyed the Egoless Sect—that's earned my respect. I apologize for my earlier attitude. That's precisely why I want to be open with you now."
Chen Li nodded: "I know what you suspected. I came barging in after the Iwasaki case, using President Shi's connections. It would have been strange if you or Xia Yu hadn't been suspicious."
"I'm willing to trust you now. But we know nothing about your background..."
"I'm the adopted son of Chen Shiming, Newland's richest man."
Chen Li answered bluntly, without any evasion. Ding raised his eyebrows at that answer, looked Chen Li up and down again, and finally nodded: "That explains a lot."
"I'm a Chen—President Shi is my great-uncle, technically."
"So your reason for joining the October Society..."
"I told Professor Shen I wanted to expose internal intelligence—that wasn't entirely a lie, since I did share a lot of confidential materials with you."
Not entirely a lie—which meant it was, in part, a lie. Ding nodded slightly, saying nothing, just watching Chen Li.
"Your article in the Herald mentioned a key witness. But you refused to let the police interview her, leaving a gap in our evidence chain. Originally, my main goal in joining the October Society was to make contact with that witness and get her into witness protection."
"Originally?" Ding caught the nuance. "And now?"
"After the Egoless Sect, I changed my mind." Chen Li's gaze hardened. He remembered the temple's grotesque statues and terror-inducing implements; the stench in the back hall, the mutilated body, the flies like black clouds; the trembling children in the bomb shelter; the lab records, every word soaked in blood.
"I changed my mind," he repeated. "Now I understand why you don't trust the police. Master Huozhai was silenced in prison—who's safe? Asha chose to stand up and protect those children herself. I'm doing the same."
Ding rested his chin on his hand, thinking for a long time. Finally, he sighed, shook his head, and gave a wry smile: "I honestly never imagined a cult with so much power could be brought down so easily. If we're counting merits, Chen Li—you've done more than anyone."
"Thank Asha's grandfather for the troops. Without them, we wouldn't have gotten out ourselves."
"Yes. Looking back on my own Yanzhou adventure, it still gives me chills."
Chen Li watched Ding in silence, swallowing unconsciously. After all this time, he was finally going to see results.
"I went to Yanzhou in May for two reasons. First, I wanted to relax—hot springs, tourism. Second, a feminist anti-sexual-violence movement had started a couple of years earlier, led by some actresses, encouraging victims to break their silence and speak out. I'd read accounts from women who'd been lured into the Egoless Sect and raped there. And online, people were posting about the sect leaders adopting large numbers of children and conducting occult rituals. I didn't think much of it at first—I toured Yanzhou, and when I had extra time, I figured I'd check out Tiannü Mountain out of curiosity.
"I found a hot spring lodge on the mountain and tried to ask about the Egoless Sect. The locals were tight-lipped—warned me not to wander around, said the sect had immense local power, even the police and government answered to them. My lodge paid them a 5 percent cut of revenue—not huge, not trivial, but the perk was some tax exemption. Also, with so many followers, the sect could protect businesses from organized crime. That evening, I heard the temple was rolling out the red carpet for a VIP—Iwasaki Shun.
"In the anti-sexual-violence movement, Iwasaki's name came up often. So did Huayue's—no surprise there, he'd had a sex scandal with his secretary when he was president. Oh, and Zhao Wenlong—he'd called the movement 'a threat to powerful men.' Remember that Supreme Court nominee accused of multiple sexual assaults? Zhao defended him, too."
"And then you went to the temple?" Chen Li cut in, steering the conversation back.
"I tried. The Egoless Sect and Iwasaki had both been accused of rape and sexual assault, especially Iwasaki—he'd been arrested for soliciting minors before. But no one had ever connected them—that would be explosive. I couldn't get into the temple as a tourist, so that night I found a mountain path and made my way to the edge of the Nairatmya Devi Temple."
"You found your own way?" Chen Li recalled the terrain—not particularly rugged, but finding a path at night was no small feat.
Ding smiled, a hint of pride in it: "I spent years climbing mountains in the Seven Islands—I know my way around. And I found a corridor leading straight to the temple, unguarded. I followed it."
"That was the circumambulation path. When we visited, Master Huozhai told us his followers walked it as part of their practice."
Ding gave a wry laugh: "Then I guess Buddha was watching—karma at work!" After a few chuckles, he continued: "Just as I got to the temple, I saw flames rising from a back room. Took a long time to put out. Inside, chaos—but they never called the fire department. While they were busy, I saw a young girl squeeze through the bars of a fence and run out."
He paused, lost in memory. After a long silence, he sighed and continued: "She was naked, wearing a heavy metal collar around her neck. When she saw me, she froze—broke down crying, fell to her knees, kowtowed, sobbing, 'I'm sorry, I won't do it again, please don't kill me.' Her forehead was bleeding from the rough ground.
"I pulled her up. She was shaking like a leaf but didn't resist—just kept crying. I wrapped her in my jacket, wiped her face, and asked, 'Who are you? How did you get out of the temple?' She gradually told me her story.
"By then, I'd already guessed most of it. I carried her down the mountain as she talked. Her name was Ai Mengqi—in the cult, they called her Alice. She was twelve, from Tangzhou. She'd been abducted by Iwasaki about two years earlier, taken to his island, and subjected to endless gang-rapes and abuse. When he got bored, he sold her to the Egoless Sect. That night, they were holding a sacrifice ritual and had taken another boy. But somehow, a fire broke out in the ritual hall, and all the guards rushed to put it out. Ai Mengqi used a stone to fray her ropes, squeezed through the bars, and escaped.
"That's my summary—the actual conversation was much harder. She could barely speak in full sentences—just fragments about the pain. I checked—her whole body was covered in scars: whip marks, rope burns, cigarette burns, clamp marks. Especially her lower body—horrifying.
"Anyway, I'd seen enough combat to know danger when I saw it. My first thought was to call the police, but then I remembered what the lodge owner said—the police and government were in the sect's pocket here. What about Yanzhou City? I didn't know anyone there. If the sect had the government's backing, I'd be walking into a trap. Besides, Tiannü Mountain was south of Yanzhou—going back to the city was a detour. So I made a snap decision: get in the car and drive straight back to Jinshui.
"Looking back, it was the right call. If I'd gone to Yanzhou, who knows what would have happened. Back in Jinshui, I talked to Professor Shen. He advised against turning the witness over to the police—instead, we should use the media to pressure them into investigating Iwasaki and the Egoless Sect. That's the difference between Jinshui and the provinces: the Jinshui police actually made an arrest when we reported it, while Yanzhou did nothing. So we decided to start with Iwasaki, because he was the real nexus—the Egoless Sect was just one node in the network.
"So, Chen Li, you destroyed the Egoless Sect—that's a huge achievement, something we couldn't have done alone." Ding looked up, his eyes full of respect. "I sincerely admire you for it. And I'm certain you're not part of Iwasaki's network. That's why I'm telling you this today—because we need your help. The Iwasaki case is far from over. His accomplices are still at large. In fact, we've started gathering evidence against his mistress, Ma Jilan. If you could help us..."
Chen Li raised a hand, cutting Ding off. Seeing Ding's surprised expression, he said: "Ding, let me correct you on one thing. Don't exclude me from 'us.' I've been a member of the October Society for a while now."
That night, in the Chen's mansion, Chen Li stood silently in his father's study, holding out a photo.
"This is their witness?"
"Yes, Father. I searched missing persons records in Tangzhou over the past few years and found a girl who disappeared two years ago—the details match."
Chen Shiming—broad-faced, corpulent, imposing even in repose—tossed the photo aside. "Keep an eye on her."
Chen Li hesitated. "Your meaning..."
"Keep her. She might be useful later."
Chen Li nodded and was about to leave when his father called him back: "You caused quite a stir in Yanzhou."
Chen Li's heart sank; his mouth went dry, a bitter taste rising. He swallowed hard. "You mean Master Huozhai's arrest?"
"Don't play dumb. Murat didn't lend you troops for nothing. If it weren't for his granddaughter's foolishness, we'd be in the hot seat right now."
Chen Li had no reply. He lowered his head: "Yes."
"This is your responsibility. Lao Shan went with you—he failed to warn you, and he failed to report back to the household. So he shares the blame. Twenty strokes, half a year's salary forfeit."
"Yes."
"Think it over."
"Yes."
As he left the study, Chen Li saw several men with a stretcher cart waiting outside. On it lay Lao Shan, wrapped in a thin blanket. His expression showed he'd already taken the punishment—gritting his teeth in pain, sweating heavily.
Chen Li clenched his jaw, unable to speak. He waved the others away with a gesture and pushed the cart himself to a guest room. Inside, he helped Lao Shan onto the bed, fetched iodine and bandages, and dressed his wounds.
"Young Master—forgive me, this is embarrassing."
Chen Li's face was dark. He finally forced out: "Nonsense. You took those strokes for me."
After bandaging him and arranging for a physician, Chen Li produced a bank card: "Father docked your pay for six months—I'll cover it. Use this card in the meantime."
Lao Shan protested, but Chen Li insisted, and he accepted. The square-faced man grinned through the pain: "Young Master—word among the guards is that following you is a dead end. But I think... I'm fine where I am."
Chen Li didn't answer. He walked to the window and stared into the deep night sky.
No moon lit the sky. The night was a sheet of ink.
