The Wang family, one of the wealthiest in Jiangnan City, had stone lions at its entrance that stood majestically, their faces weathered yet unyielding. However, behind this affluence lurked a profound sorrow. Ever since the tragic demise of Wang Li, the entire mansion seemed cloaked in an unshakeable pall of silence.

Led by the servants, Cheng Wuyue stepped into this space filled with grief. Each corner seemed to cautiously avoid any sound, and even the servants' footsteps became soft and cautious, as if fearing to disturb the suffocating stillness.

Deep within the expansive garden lay Wang Li's coffin. Wang Shouzheng stood beside it, head bowed, gently caressing the coffin. Chen Geng stood beside him, looking toward the gate.

Cheng Wuyue's gaze wandered through the garden, unintentionally resting on a medicinal herb growing in an inconspicuous corner. If not deliberately sought, it would easily be lost among the greenery. It was a Lingxiao plant, its leaves vibrant green, its buds yet to bloom, unassuming yet resilient.

"This Lingxiao, growing here, seems to stand apart from the world," Cheng Wuyue remarked, pausing to observe the plant. His voice carried a hint of pleasant surprise.

Wang Shouzheng, hearing Cheng Wuyue's words, looked up at the herb and then turned to him, a trace of relief in his eyes. He inquired Chen Geng, "Is this gentleman Cheng Wuyue?"

"That's Cheng Wuyue," Chen Geng nodded slightly.

As the two conversed, Cheng Wuyue approached and bowed to Wang Shouzheng: "Greetings, Mr. Wang."

Wang Shouzheng nodded and asked, "You seem quite familiar with that herb?"

Cheng Wuyue turned with a slight smile: "As a child, I studied various herbs with my master. This particular herb is extraordinary, and I didn't expect to find it here, casually planted among wildflowers and grasses."

Wang Shouzheng, struck by Cheng Wuyue's knowledge and demeanor, thought of his own son and other mediocre relatives. He sighed, feeling a stir in his heart: "The Lingxiao plant is tough and thrives wildly, true to its nature."

Then, turning to Chen Geng, he said, "Now that everyone is here, let's begin."

"Of course," Chen Geng signaled Cheng Wuyue, handing him a pair of gloves prepared earlier.

Carefully donning the gloves, Cheng Wuyue bowed deeply in front of the coffin and then began his work. His calm actions offered a silent consolation to Wang Shouzheng, who watched with increasing respect.

Cheng Wuyue's steady hands slowly opened the heavy coffin lid, releasing a cold air. The inside of the coffin gradually revealed its dark secrets. Wang Li's remains lay serene and cold, like a sleeping sculpture, devoid of the warmth and luster of life.

Wang Shouzheng stood silently, his gaze never leaving the scene. How could his heart not tear apart seeing his once-proud son reduced to this cold state? The façade of strength wrapped in family honor and dignity seemed to crack at that moment, letting in waves of grief.

As the lid fully opened, an invisible weight seemed to press on Wang Shouzheng's shoulders, heavier than the years of accumulated power and wealth. His eyes flickered with complexity – perhaps questioning the unrevealed truth, perhaps lamenting the irrevocable fate.

Eventually, Wang Shouzheng turned and slowly walked away, each step heavily imprinted on the stone floor. The depth of his anguish and torment was clearly beyond his willingness to bear. He left behind only his receding figure and an increasingly bent back.

Though Wang Shouzheng departed, he left his long-trusted butler to watch silently. Having witnessed the rise and fall of the Wang family for decades, the butler sighed deeply at the sight of the young master in the coffin: "Our young master was the only son, the jewel of our family. He was arrogant and often harsh to us servants. Now that he's gone, the future of the Wang family..."

Before finishing, the butler's eyes filled with tears. Chen Geng and Cheng Wuyue exchanged glances, understanding that Wang Li's death was not just a tragedy but a significant upheaval for the Wang family's future.

"May he rest in peace," Chen Geng comforted the butler, then asked, "We also met a young master who introduced himself as Wei Si. May I ask his relation to the Wang family?"

The butler's tone changed slightly when speaking of Wei Si, recalling painful memories: "Wei Si is the young master's cousin. When his mother, our master's sister, passed away, master took him in..."

...

The old butler of the Wang family recounted various details of the household, and Cheng Wuyue listened intently, his movements around the coffin meticulous and unceasing. He leaned over the coffin, his hands sheathed in delicate silk gloves, gently tracing over Wang Li's back. Every inch of skin was observed with precision, his method as skilled as an experienced physician.

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"Hmm, something's odd here," Cheng Wuyue murmured softly, catching Chen Geng's attention.

"What have you found?" Chen Geng leaned in closer.

Cheng Wuyue carefully lifted the clothing on Wang Li's back, revealing a wound punctured by a thorn. "The entry point of this thorn is uneven on the surface, yet it hasn't penetrated any vital organs. However, inside, the wound is too smooth and goes straight to the heart. This was caused by a sharp object," he explained in a low, steady voice.

Chen Geng examined the wound, nodding in agreement: "Indeed, the shape of this wound differs significantly from what a thorn would cause. It must have been inflicted by a sharp weapon."

The two exchanged a knowing glance, understanding each other's determination. Cheng Wuyue stood up, adjusted himself, and gestured to the butler: "We need to report this matter to Master Wang. Please lead the way."

Following the old butler, Cheng Wuyue and Chen Geng walked through the corridors of the Wang mansion, ascending the antique stairs to reach Wang Shouzheng's study. The heavy door of the study slowly opened, revealing a room where incense smoke curled around a massive peachwood desk, covered in parchment. Wang Shouzheng sat behind it, deep in thought.

The steps of Cheng Wuyue and Chen Geng resonated in the silence. Wang Shouzheng looked up: "Have you found anything?"

Cheng Wuyue nodded: "The injury on Master Wang's body, though initially appearing to be caused by a thorn, is actually not. The surface entry point doesn't penetrate deep, but the internal part of the wound is too smooth and directly hits vital organs. It must have been made by a sharp weapon."

"This means it was a deliberate act of violence," Wang Shouzheng's voice trembled slightly, his hands quivering. The sudden truth was like a bolt from the blue.

After a moment, Wang Shouzheng stood up and deeply bowed to Chen Geng: "Master Chen, this matter is of great importance. I implore you to uncover the true culprit and seek justice for my son."

Chen Geng nodded firmly: "Rest assured, Master Wang. No matter where the true culprit hides, I will uncover the truth."

Cheng Wuyue and Chen Geng excused themselves, leaving Wang Shouzheng's study. His gaze lingered on their departing figures until they almost disappeared from sight.

At the threshold of departure, Cheng Wuyue suddenly turned back, his movement indicating an urgency, as if a significant matter weighed heavily on his mind. Wang Shouzheng watched, his heart stirring with anticipation.

"Master Wang, one more question, if I may," Cheng Wuyue spoke, his voice clear in the stillness.

Wang Shouzheng nodded: "Please, go ahead."

"Do you know of the herb Thunder Vine?"

At the mention of Thunder Vine, a flicker of panic crossed Wang Shouzheng's composed facade. His lips curled into a forced smile before regaining his usual composure. But that fleeting expression, like a firefly in the night, was enough to pierce the calm.

Wang Shouzheng deflected: "I have not heard of this herb; I'm afraid I can't assist you."

Cheng Wuyue's question was sharp and direct: "You haven't heard of it, yet you knew it was a herb?"

Wang Shouzheng fiddled with his pen, shifting his gaze slightly: "My Xianzhi Hall is a medicinal shop, so naturally, I assumed it to be a herb when you asked."

Acknowledging Wang Shouzheng's response with a nod, Cheng Wuyue maintained a polite distance. His eyes, deep and probing, seemed to see through the thin veil of secrecy. Realizing further inquiry was futile at this moment, he chose to withdraw strategically.

Exiting the study, the remnants of their conversation seemed to linger in the air. Chen Geng's gaze, complex and profound, met Cheng Wuyue's. Whether he overheard the conversation inside remained unclear. They proceeded in silence, their footsteps echoing through the spacious corridors of the Wang mansion, stirring up faint clouds of dust.

As the sun set, its crimson rays fell on the streets of Jiangnan City, their soft golden edges unable to dispel the heaviness that hung over the Wang residence. Nearby, vendors hawked early spring goods, pigeons cooed in bamboo cages, and women carried baskets brimming with fresh produce. Peddlers clicked their abacuses energetically, while couples returned from flower viewing, whispering and laughing. Chen Geng and Cheng Wuyue, walking side by side, made their way through the bustling market, their silence stark against the surrounding clamor.

Upon entering Zuisheng Building, they found Mu Jin and Wei Zhao Yang deeply engaged in a swordplay duel in the courtyard. The shadows of bamboo swayed, and their swords intertwined in a captivating dance. The two onlookers paused, drawn in by the fluid movements of the duel.

Inside the Tianzi Room, Ye Nanjiao was comforting the distressed fruit vendor from the market. The old woman, hands tightly clenched around a handkerchief, teared up as she recounted her nephew Chen Quan'an's unfortunate fate.

"He used to run a small business in Nanguo, but recent droughts and political turmoil forced him to sell everything and come back to Jiangnan City," she explained with a hint of helplessness and world-weariness. "He's only been back a few days and already got into trouble. It's so unjust; just when he thought he'd found a way back, fate dealt him such a harsh hand."

Ye Nanjiao gently held the old woman's hands, reassuring her, "Don't worry, I'll find a way to get your nephew back. You should stay away from the market for a few days to avoid further trouble."

Grateful, the old woman's eyes sparkled with a glimmer of hope. "Thank you, thank you so much."

Concerned for the old woman's safety, Ye Nanjiao decided to escort her home personally. As they left the room and entered the courtyard, they encountered Mu Jin and Wei Zhao Yang, still locked in their spirited duel. Mu Jin, tired of the endless contest and noticing Ye Nanjiao's exit, quickly ended the match and approached.

"Where are you off to this late?" Mu Jin inquired.

"Just taking the old lady home before it gets dark," Ye Nanjiao responded.

"I'll come with you. It's getting late," Mu Jin offered, stepping forward to join them.

Wei Zhao Yang, still eager for more swordplay, protested, "Hey, Mu! We haven't settled our match yet!"

Chen Geng and Cheng Wuyue, who had been watching for some time, lost interest and joined the group. Chen Geng frowned slightly, glancing at Wei Zhao Yang, who reluctantly sheathed his sword.