40: Chapter 40 Art is just eight ducks

She was truly unaccustomed to such situations and looked to the middle-aged man beside her for help.

The middle-aged man's expression softened slightly, and he shook his head helplessly, leaning down to whisper something in her ear.

After listening, Miss Xue sighed in relief, and a gentle smile reappeared on her face behind the light veil.

"Young Master, it was my oversight."

"How about I pay for this table's meal as an apology?"

Su Mo's lips curled into a smile upon hearing this.

In truth, what he said couldn't withstand scrutiny; it was pure nonsense, a quick combo designed to prevent her from thinking, and he hadn't expected her to actually believe it.

Su Mo sat up straight again, turned his head, covered his face with his sleeve, wiped away non-existent tears, and then waved his hand with a feigned magnanimity.

"Miss Xue, you're too kind. I appreciate your good intentions."

"Although I come from a farming family, I still have some small change and am not so poor as to be unable to afford a meal."

Hearing this, Miss Xue found herself in a predicament. The feeling of wrongly accusing someone was unpleasant, and she felt genuinely bad, but Su Mo refused to accept her apology.

While she was pondering, the waiter came over with a wooden tray of dishes.

Miss Xue's eyes lit up when she saw the waiter.

"Waiter!"

"Serve two more tables with the same dishes as this one. If you do well, there will be a reward."

She then smiled slightly at Su Mo.

"Young Master, I also wish to do my part for those poor commoners. I hope you won't dislike it."

Su Mo was somewhat dumbfounded, thinking to himself, "This is bad."

Damn! This girl has been completely fooled!

But what was done was done, so Su Mo could only put on an appreciative expression.

"Miss Xue indeed has the heart of a Bodhisattva."

Hearing Su Mo's praise, she finally felt much more cheerful, and a hint of joy appeared between her brows.

Su Mo felt that this meal was incredibly long. Miss Xue across from him stared intently, making him feel as if he was sitting on pins and needles.

He could only take a bite of each dish, then had the waiter pack the rest, planning to take them home for Old Man Song to try.

Yellow Three and the other two were swaying as they walked, so Su Mo didn't bother waiting for them. He informed them and quickly hurried home.

Upon returning home, he was surprised to find Song Wen's complexion much rosier. He was sitting on a stone stool in the garden, playing chess by himself.

"Grandpa, have you eaten?"

Song Wen looked up at the sound, stroked his beard, and said with a chuckle.

"Moer, the thing you put by my pillow is really effective. I ate two pieces and already feel much better. I don't feel hungry anymore either."

"That's good."

Su Mo opened the food box, arranged the dishes on the table one by one, and then took out a pot of wine and poured it.

This wine was a thirty-year-old vintage he had specifically asked the waiter for when he left.

Looking at the table filled with expensive wine and delicious dishes, Song Wen couldn't help but ask.

"Moer, what day is it today? Why is everything so lavish?"

Su Mo smiled mysteriously, building suspense.

"Grandpa, let's eat first. We can talk while we eat."

Song Wen carefully picked up the wine cup, took a sip, and let out a long breath.

He hadn't had a drink in over thirty years; he had almost forgotten the taste of wine.

The aged wine flowed down his throat, spicy with a lingering sweetness.

"Good wine!"

Song Wen smacked his lips, no longer overthinking, and began to eat, alternating between sips of wine and bites of food.

After they had eaten most of the meal, Su Mo slowly spoke.

"Steward Wang is dead."

Song Wen's hand trembled, almost dropping his chopsticks. His cloudy eyes became unusually clear at that moment.

It was a long while before he recovered, looking at his leg under the table, and murmured.

"Good that he's dead..."

"Now, even if I die, I'll have no regrets."

Su Mo laughed:

"How could you die? Steward Wang lived to be eighty. A good person like you should at least live two or three hundred years."

Song Wen took a bitter sip of wine:

"Foolish child, this old man lived a life of poverty until I met you, and then things got a little better."

"Fifty years of trials and tribulations, I've tasted all the flavors of life; it's enough."

"However..."

He turned to look at Su Mo, a hint of expectation flashing in his eyes.

"I still want to see you get married and have children..."

Song Wen's voice became ethereal, and his whole person grew dizzy.

Su Mo quickly supported Song Wen's shoulder, only to find the old man's body frighteningly light.

"Grandpa, you've had too much to drink. I'll help you inside to rest."

...

The bright moon hung high. A massive shadow flashed across the ground, finally landing silently on the roof of a room in the Wang Manor.

Tonight, the Wang Manor was different from before. The entire estate was brightly lit, and there were several times more patrolling guards than usual.

He lifted a roof tile, and bright light instantly streamed through the gap, hitting Su Mo's face.

Inside the room, Wang Shiren lay naked on a bed, with four women beside him, clad only in embroidered Dudou.

To Su Mo's surprise, some of them were familiar faces.

Several guards stood by the door, making a frontal approach clearly impossible.

Su Mo broke off a few fragments from the roof tile in his hand, flicked his finger, and the fragments silently struck Wang Shiren's glabella, piercing through it and creating a large hole.

Red and white immediately gushed from the blood-hole, staining the pillow.

Wang Shiren only thrashed slightly before quickly losing his breath.

However, Su Mo still felt uneasy, just in case he revived.

He continuously flicked fragments, precisely hitting various parts of Wang Shiren's body: throat, left chest, right chest, philtrum, soles of his feet...

Only when Wang Shiren was riddled with holes did Su Mo stop.

After waiting for an hour, Su Mo flapped his wings and departed.

"Now, besides Wang Shixian who hasn't returned yet, only Imperial Consort Wang Shilan is left of the Wang family."

Not long after, Su Mo found Wang Shilan's room.

Before he even got close, he noticed two guards lying on Wang Shilan's roof, and a circle of guards surrounded the outside, so heavily fortified that not even a fly could get in.

He believed that if Wang Shilan made even the slightest sound, the people outside would immediately swarm in.

For others, this defense might be somewhat effective, but Su Mo merely sneered.

He flew silently above the roof, flapped his wings, and countless sharp darts mixed with anesthetic and potent poison gave the guards on the roof an acupuncture session.

They didn't even have time to groan before collapsing limply onto the tiles.

Su Mo landed lightly on the eaves and slowly lifted a roof tile.

Inside the room, Imperial Consort Wang Shilan was fast asleep. Candlelight flickered, and wisps of green smoke drifted from the incense burner beside the bed.

Eight maids stood in various corners of the bed, expressionless, their hands placed on their waists. One could vaguely see long, strip-shaped objects hanging beneath their clothes.

"This isn't easy..."

"This woman is too afraid of death, wrapped up like a flower roll, layer after layer."

Su Mo narrowed his eyes, wondering how to kill Wang Shilan without giving them a chance to react.

Although the best infiltration meant killing all witnesses, Wang Shilan's situation was like a hornet's nest. Disturbing one would disturb them all, and Su Mo might have to slaughter everyone in the Wang Manor.

Su Mo's lips suddenly curled into a smile as he thought of something.

"Candlelight, green smoke, enclosed space..."

"Sleeping with the lights on is your biggest mistake."

"Taste my art!"