Chapter Forty-Six: Spitting Blood

After having a vegetarian meal with Madam Yang, Xu Ruojin took tea and waited quietly. In another room, her father dined on plain fare with his two sons and Li Zhonglin, keeping the men and women quite separate during the meal.

Li Zhonglin felt a twinge of disappointment. The unadorned dishes did little to tempt his appetite, and after a few perfunctory bites, he set his chopsticks aside, biding his time until the descent, when he might again catch a whiff of the beauty’s fragrance.

Once the meal was finished, Xu Zilin suggested they make an early return. More and more pilgrims were arriving at Lingkong Temple, and with Li Qiuping waiting alone at the foot of the mountain, heavily pregnant, he was anxious to avoid any mishap or trouble.

Xu Yaohui nodded his assent, and someone was sent to Madam Yang’s room to deliver the message. They gathered their belongings in preparation for departure, when Chuncao hurried to Xu Ruojin’s side, her voice urgent. “Second Miss, I just went to fetch the jar of wine, but Young Master Li snatched it from me!”

“What?” Xu Ruojin’s eyes widened. “How could you let him take it?”

“When he came into our room, you and Madam had already left. He… he just grabbed it from my arms,” Chuncao’s voice trembled on the edge of tears.

Xu Ruojin glanced over and saw the jar of wine now in the hands of Li Zhonglin’s young servant. There was nothing to be done about the wine for now. She squeezed Chuncao’s hand. “Let’s go down first. Once we’re at the foot of the mountain, tell my eldest brother that the wine in that jar must not be drunk.”

Chuncao nodded, helping Xu Ruojin down the steps.

Li Qiuping had long since grown impatient waiting at the foot of the mountain. Yet, as this was an important ancestral rite, she dared not betray even the slightest hint of annoyance. When she saw Madam Yang and the others coming down, she hurried forward. “Mother, you’ve finally come down. I’ve been waiting so long.”

“Didn’t I tell you to wait in the teahouse nearby?” Madam Yang scolded, her voice sharp. “With no family by your side, still you behave so recklessly—standing here at the foot of the mountain, belly so large. Are you not ashamed for all to see?”

Li Qiuping bit her lip in grievance, casting a glance at Xu Zilin and her own elder brother.

But it was just at this moment she noticed Li Zhonglin’s face, flushed red as if painted. What was going on?

Xu Ruojin saw it too, her heart nearly leaping into her throat. She had meant to mention the wine only after they reached the bottom, but Li Zhonglin had already started drinking it on the way.

The wine, sealed for so long, had allowed the medicinal herbs within to ferment all the more powerfully. Its effects would be greatly heightened—and this was her first attempt at brewing it herself, not yet checked by Nanny Fang!

Li Zhonglin had taken but a small sip at first, finding the taste pleasing, then drank two or three bowls in quick succession. Soon he was staggering as he walked.

“Why do I feel dizzy?” he muttered, weaving unsteadily, drawing the attention of those nearby. Not only the Xu family, but passing townsfolk and street vendors turned to look.

“What’s going on? The world’s spinning… it’s a bit sweet, isn’t it?” Li Zhonglin wiped beneath his nose and saw a bright, crimson smear. With a strangled cry, his eyes rolled back and he collapsed to the ground.

“Brother!” Li Qiuping screamed, rushing to his side, her cries piercing, “Brother, what’s wrong? Wake up! Please wake up!”

Madam Yang was startled as well, seeing the young servant clutching the wine jar, eyes brimming with tears. She pointed at him sharply. “What happened?”

“Madam, it wasn’t my fault, truly. Young Master Li insisted on trying the wine Second Miss brewed—right there on the road…”

“Xu Ruojin, your wine killed my brother! I’ll make you pay!” Without another word, Li Qiuping sprang at Xu Ruojin, but Xu Zilin reacted swiftly, catching and restraining her no matter how she struggled. “Don’t make a scene out here. We’ll settle this at home.”

“He’s dead—what’s left to say?” Li Qiuping wept as though the sky had fallen.

Xu Yaohui stepped forward, frowning, and felt for a breath. “Fetch a doctor. He’s likely just drunk.”

“No, he’s not!” Li Qiuping shrieked, refusing to relent. “My brother can hold his liquor. That little wine would never do this—he could finish the whole jar and be fine! Father, you must give me justice! It was Second Sister who killed him—my brother was our family’s only hope…”

Xu Ruojin stood frozen in shock. Who could have foreseen that a moment’s delay would lead to such disaster? Trouble, it seemed, was destined to find them, no matter the precautions. If not for fear of being implicated, she would almost have wished Li Zhonglin dead from a single mouthful.

“Let’s talk at home,” Xu Yaohui snapped, his patience thinning. But Li Qiuping would not yield. “I’m not leaving! I’ll wait here for the doctor. I want proof my brother will wake. If he doesn’t, I’ll have her life in exchange for his, even if it kills me!”

With Li Qiuping’s accusing finger pointed at her, Xu Ruojin wanted to step forward and explain, but Xu Yaohui’s glare forced her back. The more one said at such a moment, the worse it would become. Already a crowd had gathered to watch the spectacle; adding to the commotion would only feed the gossip. If that madwoman lost control, who knew what she might say?

Biting her lip, Xu Ruojin stayed silent. From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a familiar figure. Wasn’t that Zhang Zhongheng?

Zhang Zhongheng watched the Xu family’s turmoil with unconcealed mockery—how ironic that the victim was his future bride’s family. He had meant to accompany Lady Zhang to Lingkong Temple that morning, but having risen late, he came on his own. Reaching the foot of the mountain, he encountered Liang Xiao, but before they could speak, a commotion erupted outside the teahouse.

Normally, Zhang Zhongheng had little patience for idle spectacle, but when it came to the Xu family’s disgrace, he would see it through to the end. He summoned his servant and whispered a few instructions. The servant nodded repeatedly, then slipped into the throng that had gathered.

Seeing the Xu family send for a doctor, Zhang Zhongheng’s servant purposely kept his voice low to avoid escalating the scene too soon. Yet, half crouching, he cupped his hands around his mouth and called out:

“Someone’s died right here! Isn’t Master Xu a magistrate? Can’t bring himself to discipline his own family now?”

“Why bring wine up the mountain to Lingkong Temple? Even if it’s sacrificial wine, to offer something that could kill an ancestor—what fine filial children indeed…”

The bystanders, hearing this, began whispering and pointing, their curiosity quickly turning to criticism.

Xu Yaohui’s face was mottled with fury, but he endured the insults in silence.

Madam Yang wished she could sink into the earth itself; the look she cast at Xu Ruojin was positively venomous. This wine may have been Xu Ruojin’s own handiwork, but should the master of the house seek someone to blame, as the matron responsible for the offerings, she could hardly escape fault. The preparation of sacrificial items was a woman’s task, after all. No explanation could absolve her.

Xu Ruojin saw clearly that Zhang Zhongheng had sent his servant to stir up trouble. Would this man never allow her a day’s peace? Must he see her destroyed?

“Master Xu, don’t dawdle. Take your daughter to the magistrate’s office for questioning—what are you waiting for?” someone shouted.

Xu Yaohui turned a penetrating gaze on his daughter, his expression torn and unreadable.

Xu Ruojin’s fists clenched tight. She would never let Zhang Zhongheng, that demon, ruin her life!