139: Chapter 140 You Speak, I Listen

Zhou Yun lowered his head and glanced at him.

Shang Youjun was trembling all over.

It was not from the night wind, nor was it because his wounds hurt.

It was a kind of tremor born from being wound too tight—the kind that would snap on the spot if he didn't speak up.

The hand he used to grip Zhou Yun's arm was almost digging into the flesh. His usually quiet face was pale and taut, anxious as if he might shatter the next moment.

Zhou Yun did not urge him to "calm down" again.

He directly helped him into the room, pressed him down onto a chair, and then turned to gently close the door.

The room instantly fell silent.

Zhou Yun turned back, sat down opposite him, and spoke in a very soft, steady voice.

"Alright. There is no one else here."

"Take your time. What happened?"

Shang Youjun's hands gripped the fabric on his knees. His scraped palms pressed against the rough cloth, causing him to flinch slightly from the pain, yet he still did not let go.

He took a deep breath.

"City Lord… this humble citizen has seen that hundreds of people in the city have turned grey."

Zhou Yun did not make a sound.

Shang Youjun's Adam's apple bobbed, and his speech grew faster and faster.

"Among them, dozens already show signs of turning black."

"Grey represents turmoil, and black represents destruction. City Lord, you must take measures immediately!"

His body lunged forward, almost rising from the chair.

"If you delay any longer, it will be too late!"

The room was silent for a moment.

Zhou Yun looked at him, his brows slightly knitted, but he did not question him immediately, instead grasping the most critical word.

"Grey, black…"

"You just said, you saw?"

Shang Youjun's body suddenly stiffened.

It was as if something had been violently prodded out by these words.

All those things buried at the very bottom, things he hadn't dared to touch for over a dozen years, were suddenly overturned before his eyes.

He was a blind man.

Yet what he said was, "saw."

The next moment, Shang Youjun slid off the chair, his knees slamming heavily onto the floor.

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"This humble citizen deserves to die!"

Zhou Yun's gaze sharpened. Just as he was about to rise, Shang Youjun had already prostrated himself.

"This humble citizen is selfish and has been withholding this report all along!"

"These eyes of mine… have always been able to see things that others cannot!"

His hands braced against the floor, his scraped palms pressing into the wooden boards. His fingertips curled from the pain, yet he stubbornly refused to pull them back.

"Please, City Lord, believe this humble citizen!"

He raised his head, his face covered in cold sweat. His hollow eye sockets were directed straight at Zhou Yun, appearing even more desperate than anyone with sight.

"Grey is ominous, and black is an even greater catastrophe!"

"Those two poisoners who were executed by City Lord earlier, Sun Weiwu and Liu Dashun—this humble citizen saw this same grey color on them too!"

The room fell silent for a moment.

Zhou Yun sat there without moving.

But in his mind, many loose threads quickly twisted together at this moment.

Sun Weiwu.

Liu Dashun.

During that poisoning incident, the first person to notice something abnormal was indeed Shang Youjun.

At the time, everyone just assumed it was a coincidence.

Perhaps he had happened to hear something or smell something; no one had thought deeply about why a blind man had discovered it a step earlier than everyone else.

But if he could truly "see" things that others could not…

Then everything made sense.

Zhou Yun's gaze returned to Shang Youjun.

Kneeling on the ground, his forehead bruised red, his palms scraped, his knees bleeding.

A blind man, running all the way in the dead of night, falling and getting back up, getting back up and running again, arriving at the City Lord's Mansion, first kneeling to request an audience, and now kneeling before him again, handing over a secret buried for over a dozen years.

He said, "This humble citizen deserves to die."

He treated this matter as a crime.

Just then, two light knocks came from outside the door.

Nuan Nuan's voice sounded from behind the door.

"The medicine is here."

Zhou Yun finally withdrew his gaze and looked toward the door, his voice remaining steady.

"Leave it outside."

After a pause, he added:

"Help me ask Wan'er to come over."

"Immediately."

...

Not long after, the sound of hurried footsteps came from outside the courtyard.

Wan'er arrived very quickly.

Summoned by the City Lord in the dead of night, she had clearly rushed over. Her outer garment had been tied on the way, her hair bun only simply pinned up, with a few stray strands hanging by her ears. Yet as soon as she entered the room, her expression had completely sobered.

If Zhou Yun summoned her at midnight, it was never a small matter.

She pushed the door open and entered, first bowing to Zhou Yun, then her gaze swept over and landed on Shang Youjun.

The blood on his knees had not yet dried, his palms were scraped, and his forehead was flushed red.

Wan'er's eyes flickered, but she did not ask immediately.

"City Lord."

Zhou Yun nodded and turned his gaze to Shang Youjun.

"Just now you said you remember all these people."

Shang Youjun sat up straighter and nodded solemnly.

During the time it took for Wan'er to arrive, he had already told everything that happened before.

Zhou Yun did not press him about what was going on with his eyes, nor did he ask why he had kept it hidden all along; he just listened quietly, pouring him a cup of warm water in the meantime.

Once that cup of water was down, the dryness in his throat was finally suppressed.

He was much calmer now than before.

"Then tell Wan'er," Zhou Yun said. "Say as much as you can remember."

Shang Youjun acknowledged and began to list the names.

"East District, 7th Lane, Zhao Tiezhu."

"South City Gate Patrol Team, Zhou Dazhuang."

"North District Granary Steward, Granny Sun's son, Sun Xiaoman."

...

One after another.

His speech was not fast, and his voice was not loud, but it was very steady, as if these names had long been repeated many times in his heart and were now just being taken out one by one.

At first, Wan'er just listened, her expression unchanged, standing in place with her hands behind her back.

When she heard the fifth name, her eyes flickered slightly.

When the eighth name was spoken, her brows knitted slightly.

After the twelfth name, her fingers, hanging inside her sleeves, tightened slightly.

Shang Youjun continued.

"West District, 3rd Row, Farmer, Qian Dayong."

"Blacksmith shop helper, Liu Er."

"City Guard, 4th Squad, Deputy Captain, Ma Liang."

...

Only his voice remained in the room.

Wan'er did not interrupt.

But the more she listened, the darker her expression became.

With over two hundred thousand people in Flower City, the rosters, labor schedules, rations, land distribution, patrols, and assignments all passed through her hands daily.

Anything that had passed through her hands, as long as there was the slightest anomaly, she would not be completely without impression.

And she had an impression of all these names that Shang Youjun spoke.

It wasn't because they had done anything major.

Quite the opposite, it was because they had all been acting strange lately.

Shang Youjun finally finished reporting the last name and stopped.

The room fell quiet.

Wan'er did not speak first, only looking up at Zhou Yun.

Zhou Yun's expression was calm, and he only returned her gaze.

Only then did she speak.

"I have an impression of all these people."

...

She paused slightly, as if going over those names in her mind again.

"In recent days, they have indeed been acting strangely. Some have been too heavy-handed on the training grounds, others have been arguing with neighbors, their words and actions far more irritable than usual. There are also a few who look fine on the surface, but are clearly rushing in their work, as if something is pressing on their chests, ready to burst out at any moment."

Speaking to this point, her gaze fell on Shang Youjun, pausing for a moment.

There was scrutiny in that look, as well as contemplation.

She was clearly wondering how this blind man knew about these people.

Shang Youjun sensed her gaze, and his hollow eye sockets turned slightly.

It was as if he was truly "looking" at her for the first time.

He had originally thought that only he could see.

But he hadn't expected that without relying on these eyes, someone else had already touched upon the same edge.

Wan'er withdrew her gaze and continued:

"I had originally noticed a few things as well, but I hadn't verified them yet and didn't dare to alarm anyone rashly."

Zhou Yun did not explain Shang Youjun's situation, only following up with a question.

"Then in your opinion, where does the crux lie?"

Wan'er was silent for a moment before speaking.

"I dare not make a rash judgment."

"But most of these people have only recently truly become Professionals."

She spoke very slowly and steadily, as if peeling things away layer by layer.

"After a person becomes a Professional, they are different from before. Their Qi and blood are more vigorous, their muscles and bones are stronger, and their perception is sharper. Things that ordinary people can quietly suppress, they may not be able to hold down."

"During the Beast Tide, they raised their Qi once. During the Battle of Qing City, they raised it again."

"They all thought they would truly enter the battlefield, would fight, and would release that Qi."

She paused slightly before continuing:

"But both times, it came to nothing."

"Thus, this Qi has remained suspended in their chests, unable to settle and unable to dissipate. At first, it was high spirits; after a long time, it became irritability; after even longer, it easily leads to excess, or even loss of control."

The room quieted down.

Wan'er did not continue speaking immediately.

She looked up at Zhou Yun and, seeing his expression unchanged, added the final sentence:

"I believe they do not necessarily harbor ulterior motives."

"It is just that this group of people is no longer suitable for the methods used to settle ordinary citizens."

This time, Zhou Yun was silent for a few breaths.

Then he said:

"People have different natures. Some are content with maintaining the status quo, while others naturally enjoy pursuing danger."

His voice was very flat.

One could not hear disappointment, nor could one hear waves; it was as if he were stating something that was naturally so.

"Blocking is not as good as dredging."

"We need to find a path for them."

Wan'er looked at him, and the trace of worry that had originally been hidden in her eyes finally slowly dissipated.

She bowed her head in a salute.

"City Lord is wise."

Zhou Yun walked to the window.

Outside the window, the moonlight was still bright, but a very faint grey-white had already emerged on the horizon. The night was drawing to a close.

"This matter should be done sooner rather than later," he said, with his back to Shang Youjun and Wan'er, his voice not loud. "I already have a preliminary idea; we will discuss it after dawn."

Wan'er bowed and replied, "As you command."

She looked up at Shang Youjun, did not ask further, and turned to retreat. The sound of footsteps gradually faded along the stone path in the courtyard, and the door closed gently.

Only two people were left in the room.

Zhou Yun turned around and looked at Shang Youjun.

The candlelight reflected on this young man's face. His eye sockets were hollow, the blood on his knees was half-dried, the wound on his palm had just split open a little more, and thin threads of blood congealed on the back of his hand. But compared to when he first entered, his expression was much calmer, his back was held straight, as if the heaviest stone pressing on his heart had finally been moved away.

Zhou Yun smiled.

"I must thank you for tonight," he said, his tone very casual, as if speaking of an ordinary family matter. "Running over in the middle of the night to tell me such important news."

Shang Youjun's body stiffened slightly, and he quickly bowed: "City Lord, you are too kind; this is what this humble citizen should…"

"Alright," Zhou Yun interrupted him, his tone gentle. "It is getting late; I will see you back."

But Shang Youjun did not move.

He sat there, his hollow eyes facing Zhou Yun's direction, his lips moving, wanting to speak but hesitating. After a long while, he called out in a low voice:

"City Lord."

Zhou Yun looked at him: "Hm?"

Shang Youjun's voice was very soft, as if he had used all his strength to ask:

"Do… you not ask about my eyes?"

Zhou Yun looked at him quietly.

This blind man, running all the way in the dead of night, falling down, getting back up to keep running, kneeling at the gates of the City Lord's Mansion to request an audience. After entering the room, he first spoke of the danger in the city, then reported dozens of names. From beginning to end, not a single word was for himself.

Only now, with no one else in the room, did he finally ask about this matter.

Zhou Yun smiled.

It was not perfunctory, nor was it comforting. That smile was light, very soft, like a lamp that had not gone out in the night.

"When you are willing, you will naturally tell me."

Shang Youjun's nose suddenly felt sore.

He lowered his head. There was no light in his hollow eye sockets, but the edges of his eye sockets slowly welled up with moisture.

After coming to Flower City, he had received spiritual rice, covered himself with quilts, had land distributed to him, and lived in a treehouse. When the White Tiger Clan entered the city, he stood in the crowd listening to everyone's excitement; on the training grounds, others sweated like rain, and he sat on the side basking in the sun. Everyone was contributing to Flower City, only he had always stood on the side.

It wasn't that he couldn't.

It was just that he didn't dare.

The secret his father had traded a needle for, he had guarded for over a dozen years. But as he guarded it, the kindness of this city slowly overflowed, overflowing so much that he thought he could really pretend not to see anything forever.

Until those greys began to turn toward black.

Zhou Yun did not press him, nor did he hold him accountable. He did not ask why he had hidden it until now, nor did he ask what was going on with these eyes.

He only said one sentence.

"When you are willing, you will naturally tell me."

Shang Youjun took a deep breath. And another.

Deep in his heart, there seemed to be a very distant, very old voice echoing heavily.

"Father."

"I'm sorry."

He raised his head, his hollow eyes facing Zhou Yun's direction.

"City Lord."

His voice was still trembling a little, but every word was enunciated extremely clearly.

"I am willing to tell you everything about these eyes."

He paused, as if giving himself one last push.

"Can… you listen?"

Zhou Yun was slightly taken aback.

Immediately, he pulled over a chair and sat down opposite Shang Youjun.

"Alright."

His voice was very soft and steady.

"You speak, I listen."

...

The candlelight in the room flickered gently.

The sky outside the window turned from grey-white to light cyan, and then from the light cyan, a warm color slowly emerged.

That night, Shang Youjun spoke for a long time.

Zhou Yun also listened for a long time.

When the door opened again, the morning light had already flooded into the courtyard.

Shang Youjun stood at the doorway and bowed slightly toward the room.

"Please don't trouble yourself, City Lord, this humble citizen can go back on his own."

His voice was much steadier than a few hours ago, even carrying a hint of long-lost relaxation. It was as if the ropes that had been tied to him for over a dozen years had finally been slowly untied on this night.

Zhou Yun stood in the room and nodded.

"Alright."

...