Chapter Eighty-Five: The Unspoken Secret

Though it was deep into the night, the Wen household was ablaze with light. The courtyard was crowded with people, and in its center, a woman knelt with her hands bound tightly behind her back.

Wen Qiran gazed at Wen Third Daughter, his face full of shock and a trace of sorrow flickering in his eyes. How many more unexpected truths remained hidden from him? He could not bring himself to believe that Wen Third Daughter, who had always been so quiet and obedient, could be capable of such a monstrous crime. Yet the evidence lay before him, leaving no room for doubt.

“Third Daughter, if you have any grievance, speak and your father will listen,” Wen Qiran said, his eyes searching hers. Often, what meets the eye is not the whole truth. He wanted to believe that Wen Third Daughter had her reasons.

She lifted her head to meet her father’s hopeful gaze, then lowered it again. “Father, I have no secret reasons.”

“Now do you believe it, brother-in-law?” Master Chu sneered coldly.

A flicker of anger crossed Wen Qiran’s face. He had already shown much forbearance toward Master Chu’s aggressive accusations. Now he replied icily, “Why, pray tell, was Master Chu at the Wen family’s ancestral grave in the middle of the night?”

Master Chu’s expression faltered; clearly, he had not expected the typically gentle Wen Qiran to counterattack. But years of navigating the officialdom had taught him to respond to any situation. He pressed on, “Are you implying I laid a trap for your daughter to walk into?”

Wen Qiran, outmatched in arguments, fell silent under Master Chu’s barrage, especially as he felt somewhat guilty himself. He did not argue further.

“Third Daughter, tell us! Why did you dig up your sister’s grave? What sort of heinous sin have you committed?” Madam Wen’s voice trembled with anger, and tears sprang to her eyes.

Wen Jing glanced at Madam Wen. The plan itself was flawless—she had foreseen the beginning but not the end. Even if it hadn’t been Madam Wen who went, it should have been Lianxiu or Nurse He. In any case, Madam Wen would not escape blame. Yet, unexpectedly, it was Wen Third Daughter, so quiet she was nearly invisible, who appeared at the center of the storm.

“Lock her in the woodshed for now. We’ll deal with this tomorrow,” Wen Qiran ordered coldly.

“Master Wen…” Master Chu tried to protest.

“This is a Wen family affair. Master Chu, you’d best return and rest,” Wen Qiran said, his tone flat but his gaze brooking no dissent.

Master Chu curled his lips in a half-smile. “Naturally. Master Wen has always been just and impartial; surely there will be no favoritism.”

He took a few steps, then turned to the clan elder. “Elder, is the exhumation set for tomorrow?”

The clan elder nodded.

“Then I shall return in the morning,” Master Chu declared, striding away.

Wen Third Daughter was locked in the woodshed under the watch of a servant boy, while the others returned to their rooms.

At dawn, the entire Wen family was summoned to the courtyard, and Master Chu arrived early as well.

Wen Jing glanced at the elderly man dressed in a geomancer’s robes standing beside the clan elder—this must be the so-called feng shui master. With his aura of dignity and serenity, he did not resemble a common charlatan.

“Master Fang, what do you think…” the clan elder inquired respectfully.

Master Fang looked at the sky. “Let’s begin.”

The group set out toward the burial ground.

Upon arrival, several servants started digging. There was already a shallow pit from the previous night’s disturbance, so they simply continued from there.

As the clash of metal and stone rang in her ears, Wen Jing’s breath came unevenly. She had no idea what would be revealed before her eyes in the next moment. Though she was not the daughter of Chu Zhuolian who lay in the coffin, this was still the body of the original Wen Seventh Daughter—the blood bond between mother and child could not be severed.

Qingliu squeezed her hand gently. Wen Jing glanced at her and gave a silent reply.

After half an hour, the coffin gradually emerged from the soil. Wen Jing’s heart pounded violently. She was thrust back into a childhood memory from her previous life, when a policewoman came to her home and led her to the morgue for a final look at her parents. Fear and a desperate hope warred within her, and the suffocating sensation returned.

Master Fang set up his altar on the open ground. He placed three sticks of incense, each half a man’s height, before the table, set a red soul-summoning flag, a trio of sacrificial animals, white wine, three cups, an incense burner, plain wax, colored grains, glutinous rice, tea leaves, yin-yang rootless water, a peach-wood sword, a horsetail whisk, talismans, and other ritual implements.

He then chanted incantations, his lips moving constantly. The process was neither short nor long, but to Wen Jing, every minute felt endless.

At last, Master Fang covered the entire grave with a sheet of black oilcloth.

“Open the coffin,” he commanded.

As soon as a crack appeared in the lid, Master Fang swiftly dropped the colored grains and glutinous rice inside, then burned a talisman and tossed its ashes into the coffin. He waited in silence for five or six minutes.

“Open it fully.”

Wen Jing felt her heart leap into her throat. Her body was beyond her control; she had not felt like this in a long time and could not discern whether it was her own soul in this body or the original Wen Seventh Daughter.

All eyes were fixed on the lid as it was lifted. Everyone was stunned—the coffin was empty, not a bone to be found.

“What is the meaning of this?” Wen Qiran rushed forward, astonished.

Master Chu also stepped closer and found nothing inside.

“Where are my sister’s remains?” Master Chu demanded, glaring at Wen Qiran.

Wen Qiran could only stare blankly at the empty coffin. He had watched his wife’s burial with his own eyes. Had grave robbers stolen her? But to steal even the bones, not just valuables—was that not excessive?

Wen Jing stepped forward, studying the black stains at the bottom of the coffin. She bent closer for a better look, but Master Fang stopped her.

“That is highly poisonous, young lady. Do you have no regard for your life?” he said, displeased.

“Master, what does this mean?” the clan elder asked.

“It seems this grave was so filled with evil energy that the remains have been dissolved,” Master Fang said gravely, pointing at the black stains on the coffin floor. “Madam Wen’s bones have not vanished but melted into these black marks, clinging to the wood.”

There was another wave of shock. Staring at the human-shaped stain, everyone accepted Master Fang’s explanation.

Wen Jing watched the mark in silence. She did not believe in ghosts or spirits. Human bones could last for years under normal conditions; they should not corrode so easily. Unless an unknown poison had been used, turning even bones into black water in just over a decade. She was more inclined to believe Chu Zhuolian had been poisoned, with the toxins lingering in her bones until they melted away.

“And what of Lian’er’s burial goods? Have those melted too? Impossible! Someone must have robbed the grave and taken her remains as well,” Wen Qiran muttered to himself.

Master Chu shot him a furious look. “It must have been your daughter, Third Daughter. She stole the valuables and destroyed Lian’er’s body! Otherwise, why dig up the grave last night?”

“And if she had known the grave was empty, why walk straight into a trap?” Wen Qiran retorted.

“Hmph, how should I know? Then tell me, why did she go there?” Master Chu pressed, ever skilled in debate.

Wen Qiran was left speechless.

“Enough arguing; you’ll disturb the ancestors,” the clan elder sighed, turning to Master Fang. “What should we do now?”

Master Fang seemed at a loss. If the remains were present, they could simply be moved.

After a moment’s thought, he said, “Move the entire coffin away. The evil energy here is too strong—I shall perform a cleansing ritual later.”

The clan elder nodded repeatedly and instructed several strong men to place Chu Zhuolian’s coffin into a newly dug grave nearby.

Once Master Fang had finished his final incantations, the exhumation was complete.

“Thank you for your efforts,” the clan elder said.

Master Fang wiped the sweat from his brow.

Wen Jing cast a sidelong glance at the silent Madam Wen. Seeing nothing unusual, she wondered if she might have been mistaken.

“Master Wen, I expect you to give the Chu family an explanation in three days,” Master Chu said, and with a swirl of his sleeve, departed before Wen Qiran could reply.

Everyone returned to the Wen residence. The clan elder took his leave of Wen Qiran in haste, not even staying for lunch. Wen Qiran sent him off with a few silver ingots.

Wen Qiran entered the woodshed to see Wen Third Daughter, who looked utterly drained.

“Third Daughter, why did you go to dig up the grave in the middle of the night? Do you know how serious a crime that is?”

She raised her cloudy eyes, still silent. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

Wen Qiran’s hand rose, but after a long pause, he let it fall. He had always felt deeply apologetic toward Third Daughter.

“If you have nothing to say, I will have no choice but to send you to the authorities,” he said.

Wen Third Daughter suddenly laughed, a sound of bitter desolation. “So be it. I’ve long lost any desire to live; I might as well follow my mother. When she died, Father, you were not by her side. And I am even more useless than she was. What hope is there for me?”

Wen Qiran’s expression changed. The gentle face of Zhao Yue’e, Third Daughter’s mother, rose in his mind. So she had harbored this resentment all these years, and he had never noticed.

“The remains and burial goods are all missing—why did you still go to dig it up?” Wen Qiran pressed.

“All gone?” Third Daughter asked in shock.

Wen Qiran, watching her reaction, realized she truly did not know. If she had known, why would she have taken such a risk?

“Third Daughter, tell me, what did you go to do at the grave?”

“Father, I cannot say. Just assume I went to steal valuables,” she sighed.

“You!” Wen Qiran was speechless with rage. Despite her gentle appearance, Third Daughter was the most stubborn of all his daughters. He truly had no way to deal with her.

Wen Qiran emerged from the woodshed, furious. Wen Jing knew he had once again gotten nothing out of Third Daughter. She had thought to question the girl herself, but it was clear she would not talk to her either.

Returning to her chamber, Wen Jing withdrew from her sleeve the black stain she had secretly scraped from the bottom of the coffin. If she could discover what kind of poison it was, perhaps there was still hope.

ps:
There will be another update later.