Chapter 89: A Weasel Wishes the Chicken a Happy New Year?

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The night was as silent as death.

The north wind cut like a knife, mingled with hail-like shards of snow that fell with a crackling sound, stinging faces and hands with a pain sharp as a blade.

Yet Li Yuanjing seemed to have lost all sensation.

He paid no heed to the pain that battered his face and body, his bloodshot eyes fixed instead on Zhao Yinling’s new grave—laid to rest just that morning, now a scene of utter devastation beneath the flickering light of dozens of torches.

Beside him, Zhang Kun dared not even breathe too loudly, staring at his nose, his nose at his heart, determined to make no sound at all. Wang Cuihua trembled so violently she seemed about to faint right then and there.

Who could have imagined—

At such a critical moment, something so dreadful would happen again…

A distant, low wolf’s howl echoed from the dark mountains, finally bringing Li Yuanjing back to himself, snapping him out of his daze.

Even after living two lives, this was his first encounter with such an unfathomable event…

If this had happened in later times, it might have been merely unpleasant, the subject of idle gossip.

But now—

For such a thing to befall Li Yuanjing was a grave blow to his reputation!

He couldn’t even protect his young concubine’s corpse—how could he avoid becoming a laughingstock? Especially among the scholarly gentry!

After all,

Who could say what was done with the body once it had been stolen?

But no matter the turmoil in his heart, Li Yuanjing forced himself to remain calm, to set aside his anxieties and focus on the matter at hand.

Because it had snowed all day, and by afternoon the blizzard intensified, while Lord Dong’s men kept watch outside Quanzi Village, no one paid attention to these remote woods, four or five miles away.

If not for a woman who, running low on firewood, happened to come gathering and stumbled upon the scene, Li Yuanjing might not have discovered this for three or five days.

It was, in a sense, a blessing amid disaster.

And because he arrived early, though the snow had covered much of the evidence, some traces remained.

These “corpse thieves” had clearly come during the heavy snow in the afternoon, seizing the chance to dig up Zhao Yinling’s body.

Judging from their footprints, they had headed north, toward the Pi family hamlet.

But now, in mid-October, the mountains were all but sealed by snow; each village and township had hunkered down for the winter.

Though the Pi family settlement had only a low dirt wall, given Li Yuanjing’s current strength, he could not hope to storm it and demand justice.

Worse still, he suspected—

These “corpse thieves” had deliberately led their tracks toward the Pi family hamlet, out of some malicious design!

As for who had actually stolen Zhao Yinling’s body—

There were simply too many suspects.

Lord Dong, Philanthropist Xue, Zhao Yinling’s own parents, even Master Ma of Cold Mountain—all had motives!

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And each one was highly suspicious!

With so few clues or evidence, Li Yuanjing could not judge. Making a rash judgment might only entangle him further.

He exhaled a long breath, closing his eyes before opening them quickly. “Fill in the grave,” he said.

“Ah? Yes, sir!”

The others snapped out of their daze, hurrying to work.

Seeing Li Yuanjing’s composure return, Zhang Kun finally dared to speak, offering careful comfort: “Master, there’s no need to worry too much. In years past, we often heard of ‘corpse thieves’ in these parts, stealing young women’s bodies to sell for ghost marriages…”

“Perhaps it’s not as bad as you think. We should keep silent about it here, send people out to investigate quietly—news will surely come soon…”

Li Yuanjing sighed deeply, managing a faint smile as he patted Zhang Kun’s shoulder. “Brother Zhang, don’t worry. I’m fine, just thinking things through. You’re right—it’s best to keep this quiet. Once the others finish here, you handle them for me.”

Seeing Li Yuanjing truly seemed recovered, Zhang Kun nodded emphatically and got to work.

Li Yuanjing, meanwhile, pulled Wang Cuihua aside and asked in a low voice, “Back when Uncle Wang’s concubine died suddenly, was there ever anything like this?”

Wang Cuihua, clever enough to anticipate the question, could only reply with a wry smile: “Master, I really don’t know. Even if something did happen back then, it would have been thoroughly suppressed. So many years have passed—people have surely forgotten by now…”

Li Yuanjing nodded slowly and let the matter drop, whispering something else to Wang Cuihua.

Startled, she nodded urgently in agreement.

This matter must never reach Yuniang’s ears…

…

At this point, a reckless investigation would only lead to worse consequences, perhaps even ruin everything he had built. Li Yuanjing would not act rashly.

A true man does not trouble himself over an unworthy wife or unfilial son—let alone a passing storm like this.

Once the matter was silenced, he brought his men back to Quanzi Village.

But that night, even with his steely will, Li Yuanjing slept fitfully, Zhao Yinling’s charming face haunting his dreams…

Only as dawn neared did he finally fall into a more restful sleep, clutching Yuniang in his arms.

Yet he had barely drifted off before Yuniang gently shook him awake. “Brother, wake up—Philanthropist Xue has come to visit…”

“Hm?”

“Philanthropist Xue?”

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“What’s that wily old fox doing here now?”

Li Yuanjing snapped out of his grogginess, sitting up at once. Yuniang, startled, hurried to help him dress and wash.

She did not want her brother’s standing to suffer because of any lapse in her service before such an important guest.

Watching Yuniang’s neat, deliberate movements, Li Yuanjing couldn’t help but shake his head and smile.

He understood her worries, wished to reassure her, yet could not stop her. Such were the strictures placed on women in this patriarchal world—how could Yuniang be any different?

Once she had tidied him up, Li Yuanjing quickly made his way to the temporary public hall, where he found Xue Mang—Philanthropist Xue—already waiting, and greeted him with a cupped fist and a smile:

“Master Xue, what brings you here with leisure to spare today?”

Philanthropist Xue chuckled, handing over his gift list—he had brought a fat pig and several types of cured meat, easily worth twenty taels.

Seeing Li Yuanjing’s smile upon reading the list, Philanthropist Xue beamed, “Brother, I came today to bring you good news. I reflected on our last encounter and realized I was at fault.”

“So,”

“I put aside my pride, called in a few favors, and finally managed to do something for you!”

“This year, your Quanzi Village won’t have to pay the protection fee to Master Ma of Cold Mountain!”

“Is—Is that true?”

Though Li Yuanjing knew full well that Philanthropist Xue was like a fox wishing the chickens a happy New Year—harboring no good intentions—he did not let it show, instead bowing deeply and feigning delight. “Master Xue—no, elder brother—this, this is too great a kindness…”

“Ah, come now,”

Philanthropist Xue smiled, completely in control. “We’re all family here, no need to stand on ceremony. Why not gather the villagers now and share this good news?”

“Well…”

At last, Li Yuanjing caught on—this old fox wanted to win the villagers’ hearts right in front of him!

Feigning difficulty, he replied, “Elder brother, it’s not that I don’t want to—but in this freezing weather, apart from those working on the site, everyone is huddled at home. If we call them out and someone catches cold, wouldn’t that spoil the good news?”

“Well…”

Even though Li Yuanjing’s excuse was a bit clumsy, and he prepared for Philanthropist Xue’s rebuttal,

To his surprise,

Philanthropist Xue merely smiled and changed the subject. “Brother, I hear you and Lord Dong of Big Ditch Village have had a little misunderstanding these past few days?”