“……Absolutely not!……Cough, cough…”

It was easy to guess who it was. The way he mustered up such a forceful air only to start coughing nonstop after raising his voice just once—there was no mistaking it: Shang Rong, the most important (sick) patient at Shuanglin Courtyard, had arrived.

Qiu Huan and Cheng Jingtian knew he was approaching; his unsteady gait was simply too distinctive. But they hadn’t expected him to shout like that! Less than ten days ago, Student Shang had actually had his throat slit—his trachea was even exposed! As everyone knows, a severed carotid artery is a death sentence; he’d literally walked the edge of death—and yet he still didn’t seem to care about his own health at all. Dr. Cheng, the “benevolent physician,” instantly sprang to his feet, hurried over in three quick strides, and sure enough, there was a bit of blood seeping through the gauze around his throat. He quickly pulled it out to attend to the wound.

Duan Yunhe and Qiu Huan were speechless.

“It’s none of my business, but I’m still flustered! Absolutely!” Duan Yunhe thought furiously. Just what on earth was the relationship between Qin Yaoyue and Shang Rong? Were they gay friends? Could it be?

Qiu Huan’s expression also grew rather stiff. Was she being mistrusted? Did Shang Rong think she was in the same camp as Cheng Jingtian and was therefore rushing to stop him because she agreed with his request?

The two exchanged a look, both full of inner turmoil, and when they saw the exact same expression on each other’s faces, they couldn’t help but laugh.

Finally managing to calm down, Duan Yunhe wiped away her tears and asked casually, “Has Feng Ze ever been on a mission before?… I mean, an assassination or something like that.”

Qiu Huan raised an eyebrow. Why bring this up now? Could Zhao Erhan have suggested it? “No, I wasn’t part of Tonglou’s official roster back then.” She hadn’t really thought about it before—after all, the profession of an assassin is hardly respectable. Zhao Erhan’s concern for Duan Yunhe was entirely justified.

Seeing how visibly relieved Duan Yunhe looked, Qiu Huan decided not to hold anything back and said straightforwardly, “But if we’re talking about killing people, I have indeed personally taken many lives—and countless more without actually doing it myself.”

Duan Yunhe’s lips curled into a faint smile, but his eyes avoided hers, looking very forced. “They were all vicious criminals, people who deserved to die, right?”

“…Of course not. My adoptive father used to recruit many kind-hearted people to temper my character—newborn babies, elderly folks on their deathbeds, burly men, and young girls in their prime. If I had to count them, the blood on my hands would long since be impossible to tally.” Qiu Huan spoke calmly, without any guilt or pain, yet neither was she cold or indifferent. “And don’t even get me started on those who died at the hands of Tonglou’s assassins—there were tens of thousands, if not more.”

“But that was all forced upon you!” Duan Yunhe cried out. She was deeply moved by the scenes in her dreams and her view of human rights differed from that of people in this era. Before, she had only “known” that Qiu Huan was the head of Tonglou; hearing her actually say what kinds of people she had killed was a completely different experience.

Qiu Huan shook her head. “My adoptive father never held a knife to my throat and forced me to kill. I could always choose not to be the head of Tonglou.” In fact, even if Qiu Huan didn’t kill those people, they wouldn’t survive anyway—someone else would have done it. Likewise, if she didn’t take on the role of head, someone else would; Tonglou’s business would go on regardless. Still, Qiu Huan felt that was just an excuse. After all, the fact that she had personally—or even indirectly—taken those lives was undeniable, so she didn’t mention it.

Duan Yunhe stared at her in disbelief, leapt to her feet, and dashed out the door, her figure trembling slightly. Qiu Huan listened to the fading, stifled sobs and sighed.

About fifteen days after the trio’s covert reconnaissance mission to Gaoyang—on the sixth day of the eleventh lunar month—Ming Zhen and Yuan Qian finally returned. Of course, Yuan Mo arrived a little earlier; although he’d been following them in secret, Ming Zhen would inevitably receive a report afterward about Yuan Mo’s absence from Qiu Huan’s side during those days, so there was no need to hide it excessively. Besides, Ming Zhen probably already suspected something himself.

So after a brief rest, Qiu Huan told Ming Zhen about Qin Yaoyue’s nighttime raid, while Yuan Qian and Yuan Mo sat in on the conversation.

Ming Zhen showed little reaction upon hearing this. Since Qiu Huan was sitting here perfectly fine, whatever danger she might have faced beforehand hadn’t led to any serious consequences. Besides, he knew full well how powerful Qiu Huan was; treating her like a fragile flower and shielding her at all costs just didn’t make sense (Ming Zhen still didn’t know about the problem with Qiu Huan’s internal energy). Nevertheless, he did bring Qin Yaoyue in for questioning.

End of Chapter 33: Choosing the Ground to Step On