Chapter 94: A Win-Win Plan

“Xiao Lan’s final hint should be genuine. At that time, she treated me like her brother.”

Tongguan packed his gear while speaking to Chang Nian.

That hint, still burning like the blood in Xiao Lan’s throat, had left a lasting impression on both of them.

Don’t drink the water in the mansion.

To outsiders, it might have sounded cryptic.

But the staff, who had repeatedly skirted the line between ghost and death, understood immediately.

Water seemed to be a key piece of information in this mission.

Tongguan immediately associated it with the path of death. Could the ghost’s method of killing target all living beings who drank the mansion’s water?

He had doubted this before—Fang Shenyan had been attacked by the ghost yet hadn’t drunk any water.

By contrast, Tongguan, Chang Nian, Yu Guo, and Tao Xiaoyi had all drunk tea during the first meeting, and yet remained unharmed.

Only Fang Shenyan, who had not drunk the water, had been tormented nearly to death.

Still, Tongguan treated this as a contingency.

He shook a portable water flask, hearing the clink of the half-filled contents.

“I poured half a flask with the tea prepared by the Li Mansion.

If things get serious, I’ll have Chen Fu drink it, putting him on the same starting line as us.

If we fall victim to the path of death, he won’t be spared either.

Perhaps this is how we break free from their control…”

The plan sounded reasonable, a win-win approach while also testing Xiao Lan’s hint.

Chang Nian, however, set down his backpack, taking the flask with concern, probing:

“But what if contact with the water isn’t actually the path of death?

And if Chen Fu doesn’t know about the ghost or that the water is the trigger, wouldn’t it all be for nothing?”

Tongguan nodded. Chang Nian’s worry was justified.

Still, holding the backpack, he spoke softly:

“In truth, facing the red-and-white conflict head-on from the start may have been a mistake.

Now we’re hunted by the ghost and threatened by Chen Fu. Our initiative is gone; all we can do is hope the plan works, that’s all.”

Elsewhere, Yu Guo had already packed up, sitting upright on a stone bench in the North Courtyard.

He addressed Fang Shenyan, neck wrapped in gauze, face pale:

“What do you think the elderly woman wants from us?”

Fang Shenyan didn’t respond—he couldn’t. The swelling in his neck burned, making even breathing painful.

He adjusted the spare glasses on his face, staring blankly at the pack of cigarettes before him, unable to light one.

“Maybe lunch? It’s about time, and I’m really hungry.”

Tao Xiaoyi, overhearing Yu Guo, replied listlessly.

Yu Guo caught the joking tone and laughed, saying:

“Probably. The Li Mansion is grand. Maybe they’ll treat us to some delicacies before we do any work.”

“Food will probably be prepared, but giving us a meal likely means we’re about to be put to some effort.”

At that moment, Tongguan and his wife emerged from the bedroom, glancing at the overcast sky.

A bad feeling stirred in his chest, but he dismissed it lightly, softly responding to Yu Guo.

He could roughly guess the elderly woman’s purpose: a funeral procession.

Whether it would be real or staged was unknown.

Based on Fang Shenyan’s intelligence, the procession seemed tied to a ritualistic sacrifice.

The object of the sacrifice was a strange painting.

According to Fang Shenyan’s notes, the red-clad ghost they encountered previously was likely the ghost bride in the painting.

The funeral procession itself served as the sacrificial act.

But even Tongguan hadn’t yet understood the purpose behind it all.

The group followed the maid who had been waiting, heading toward the East Hall.

Along the way, they learned her name was Xiao Zhu, a subtle echo of Xiao Lan.

Yu Guo tentatively asked, “The Li Mansion seems to have gathered all four—Plum, Orchid, Bamboo, Chrysanthemum. Where’s Little Chrysanthemum?”

Xiao Zhu, however, was clearly tougher in temperament, sneering with obvious disdain and ignoring him.

The journey passed in laughter and banter, with none of them showing much concern on their faces.

But from Fang Shenyan’s notes, everyone knew the truth:

Chen Fu intended for them to die today.

As soon as they entered the main hall, Yu Guo’s eyes lit up. Before them stood a long, wide solid wood table.

Five chairs were arranged on either side, and the table was laden with an exceptionally lavish spread.

For five people, at least fifteen dishes were laid out, stretching from one end of the table to the other.

“The Li Mansion really spares no expense—they must be poor in everything but money.”

Yu Guo strode forward confidently, picking up a porcelain bowl and calling to Xiao Zhu: “Bring a bowl of four liang of rice!”

The others took their seats, though aside from Yu Guo and Tao Xiaoyi, no one touched the rice bowls.

Tongguan and Chang Nian were wary of Xiao Lan’s warning; Fang Shenyan, with his injuries, would only make things worse if he ate.

“The madam said you may eat first. Afterward, we will discuss business. Please, everyone!”

Xiao Zhu brought two attendants to serve at the table and then turned to the back hall, leaving the staff behind.

Fang Shenyan glanced at the two silent servants who hadn’t spoken since entering.

Most of the Li Mansion’s staff had fled or perished, leaving only a few maids near the madam and stablehands at the stables.

These two servants, sweating and trembling, handled their bowls unsteadily—likely the so-called temporary workers hired locally.

As Yu Guo and the others indulged in the feast, a servant suddenly rushed in from outside.

Fang Shenyan studied him; this was another unfamiliar face.

The newcomer whispered into the ears of the two serving men. Immediately, one of them froze in shock.

The bowl of rice meant for Tao Xiaoyi slipped from his hands, shattering on the floor.

Tao Xiaoyi frowned but, noticing something was wrong, looked around silently without speaking.

After a long pause, the servant set down his ladle and made a ninety-degree bow.

He muttered to the staff: “Gentlemen, there’s an urgent matter. We must attend to it immediately.”

With that, the three attendants dashed out of the hall, running in a single direction.

Fang Shenyan kept his eyes on them—it led to the backyard.

At that moment, Yu Guo, chewing a mouthful of food, muttered:

“Someone said there’s trouble in the backyard. The four men carrying the coffin mysteriously bled from seven orifices and died.

They’re being sent to help so the afternoon procession can leave on schedule.”