61: New clues left by Mr. Du!

Jiang Hanwen stood for a moment, then called Wu Shen.

Wu Shen walked up to him, pursing his lips, his gaze at Jiang Hanwen a little timid.

"Teacher, I'm sorry, about what happened last time, I'm sorry—"

In handling Gong Qing's matter, although he sided with his teacher, he didn't directly intervene. Meeting again now, it was somewhat awkward for him.

"At any time, protect yourself. This also applies to me." Jiang Hanwen patted Wu Shen's shoulder reassuringly.

He had taught him for three years. Although he was diligent, he hadn't truly nurtured him as a disciple; it was merely to repay the Karma of the Divine Breath True Scripture.

One shouldn't overestimate human nature. It was already very good that Wu Shen sided with him in Gong Qing's matter; he couldn't ask for more.

Jiang Hanwen interrupted Wu Shen:

"I called you here because I have something to arrange.

Compile for me the prices of all Spiritual Plants in the Medicine Field over the past twenty years, organized by month.

Is five days enough?"

Wu Shen's cheeks flushed slightly, and his gaze dropped.

"Enough."

"Good, that's all. Go get busy."

Having already traced it to Zhuang Kongming's aftermath, Jiang Hanwen understood that this might be his last command to improve the Medicine Field.

In the future, when he and his father left, Wu Shen would find this price curve useful.

Jiang Hanwen turned and returned to the side courtyard. It was almost dusk. After dinner, more people came to pay their respects.

Only Su Xin, leading her son and daughter, was busy, handling incense, burning paper money, pouring water, and serving tea, utterly swamped.

Jiang Hanwen stood in the distance, watched for a moment, then stepped into the mourning hall.

"Let me do it." He took the tea tray from Zhuang Yue's hand.

Zhuang Yue looked up at him, her round eyes frozen, as if to say, Uncle, why are you snatching my tea tray?

"Lord Jiang!"

"Chief Steward Jiang..."

The moment Jiang Hanwen appeared, everyone in the mourning hall instantly clasped their hands. The medicine farmers who were chatting quickly stood up, and those standing bowed slightly. Not a single person failed to show respect.

"You, you, you!

The three of you are responsible for boiling water and serving tea.

The two of you, look after the lamps outside..."

Jiang Hanwen directed several people, and the convenience of power meant everyone obeyed.

As more people became involved, the desolate mourning hall grew a bit livelier. The gurgling of boiling water, the lighting of lotus-shaped memorial lamps, the fragrant scent of tea, and the crisp clinking of copper coins on the soul-guiding banner's rope tail filled the air.

The solitude of the mourning hall, illuminated by the orange-yellow light, became timid, hiding in the narrow, dark corners, not daring to make a sound.

Su Xin stood up, walked over to Jiang Hanwen, and choked softly:

"Thank you."

"You three haven't closed your eyes for two days. I'll keep watch here tonight; you all go rest." Jiang Hanwen gestured to the tidied room next door.

"I'll manage; let them sleep." Su Xin stroked her children's hair, bent down, her pale lips moving, and pointed at Jiang Hanwen:

"Quickly, say hello to Uncle Jiang."

"Hello, Uncle Jiang."

"Hmm, hello to you both.

Go on, get some sleep. When you wake up with energy, you can relieve your mother."

Both children were still young; hearing they could rest, their eyelids were practically glued together.

Despite their reluctance, the two children obediently held Jiang Hanwen's hands, one on each side, and walked out of the mourning hall.

Su Xin gazed at Jiang Hanwen's retreating figure, her eyes flickering with fascination and longing.

Without even time to rest their heads on pillows, the two children fell asleep the moment they touched the bed.

Jiang Hanwen covered them with a thin blanket and pushed the two little ones against the wall to prevent them from falling off in the middle of the night.

"Mmm~"

The little girl, Zhuang Yue, reflexively hugged his hand, her jade-like brows furrowed, and she whimpered in a childish voice:

"Daddy~ don't hit Mommy~ don't hit~"

On Zhuang Yue's porcelain-like little face, the look of pain was not feigned. It was a kind of fear etched into her bones. As she spoke, her delicate body trembled slightly. One could imagine the terror and unease the little girl felt in her dream, standing before her enraged father to protect her mother from being beaten.

One must remember that Zhuang Bai had been dead for four years, yet this still haunted Zhuang Yue to this day.

How badly did he beat her when he was alive?

"No hitting, no hitting." Jiang Hanwen comforted her softly, but Zhuang Yue's trembling continued for a full half-hour. The little one only stopped shivering when the scene in her dream changed.

Stepping outside, the number of people coming to pay respects at the mourning hall had significantly decreased, with only two or three scattered individuals.

At this hour, it was time for evening watering. Everyone had field work to do and needed to go to bed early to wake up for morning watering.

Su Xin knelt on a prayer mat, her body swaying from side to side. Her frail figure, in the dim yellow lamplight, resembled a lone rock on a mountaintop, teetering precariously, at risk of collapsing at any moment.

"You go rest. I'll take over here."

Their eyes met. Su Xin, her eyes red-rimmed, shook her head, biting her lip tightly.

"Ah, I'll be here all night. Go rest if you're tired." Jiang Hanwen sighed. Su Xin was overwhelmed with grief and mentally exhausted.

Otherwise, for someone who Cultivates, let alone two days, what's wrong with staying up for four or five days?

Jiang Hanwen occasionally tended to the incense burner and sometimes went to the opposite room to tuck in the two little ones.

Time flowed like water. Just as he tucked Zhuang Yue's tender white feet back into bed, he heard the water clock strike the hour ofugly (1-3 AM).

Everyone who was helping in the mourning hall had left, leaving Jiang Hanwen alone, sitting on a stone bench outside the house.

When a person dies, it's like a lamp extinguishing; everything becomes nothing.

There were still three days until the seventh day. Although he had a prime suspect for Elder Du's matter, he still lacked a complete chain of evidence.

The key was to find out from Xiang Jie who exactly gave him the order to search Wu Qinghe's east wing.

The person who gave the order, even if not the murderer, was most likely an accomplice.

Zhuang Kongming, or perhaps Zhuang Mingyu—these were the only two he could think of.

Suddenly.

"Clang!"

The sound of breaking ceramics was as piercing as an alarm bell in the silent night.

Jiang Hanwen rushed into the room and saw Su Xin unconscious on the ground. Her head had broken a clay pot, and the jagged edge, by unfortunate coincidence, had cut her forehead. Two streaks of crimson slid down her pale cheeks.

Inside the clay pot, which had broken into several pieces, yellow paper money was still burning, setting Su Xin's hair on fire.

From the looks of it, she had been burning paper money and simply couldn't hold on any longer, collapsing into the clay pot.

Jiang Hanwen quickly kicked away the flames and patted out the fire on her hair.

He reached out to check her breath; it was faint, and she had already fainted.

It was not in vain that Old Du had cared for her so much. Although Old Du had complained in the past, at crucial moments, his daughter was still reliable, enduring until she was this exhausted.

Due to the distinction between genders, Jiang Hanwen found a thick quilt to wrap Su Xin in, rolling her up like a large jianbing guozi.

Su Xin was very light, smelling of smoke and ashes.

Jiang Hanwen carried her to the bed, placed her with the two little ones, and covered them with a thin blanket.

With a "click," he closed the door and turned to return to the mourning hall.

He didn't know that the moment the door closed, the "exhausted" Su Xin opened her eyes, no longer looking tired at all.

Jiang Hanwen sat in the mourning hall, quietly watching the finger-thick long incense burn down. When the wind blew, ash drifted, and a circle of red light glowed around the incense.

A living person, now only a coffin resting here.

Those who do not lose their place endure; those who die but do not perish live long.

"Old Du, rest in peace." Jiang Hanwen patted the coffin with a familiar force, just as he used to tease this stubborn old man.

Standing up, Jiang Hanwen picked up a broom and swept the mourning hall. Tiny pieces of paper money and layers of incense ash all disappeared into the darkness.

Soon, the floor tiles were clean, revealing the straight grout lines.

Standing before the coffin, Jiang Hanwen suddenly froze.

He just noticed that there seemed to be something drawn on the wall behind the coffin.

Four years ago, he had taken down Old Du's Medicine Field map from here. At that time, the wall was bare, with no traces of black ink at all.

Although very faint, upon closer inspection, one could still discern subtle light and shadow.

Jiang Hanwen walked to the wall. The wall was covered with drawings in grayish-white ink, like clouds, almost ten pictures.

Moreover, there was a faint scent of ink, proving that the drawings were no more than five days old.

And five days was exactly before Old Du was murdered!