His gaze swept across the three of us before finally dropping low.

  “…I am not the third young master of the Zhuo family.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath. “You’re not? Then who—?”

  “Li Qing.” His lashes trembled as he spoke, voice hoarse. “Son of the Li family… of Huaisu Hall.”

  The air fell dead still. The vines along the wall whispered in the night breeze, sounding almost like someone murmuring right beside my ear.

  “But you’re— you’re a man?” I stammered, half-gaping. “Then— then the ‘Miss Li Qing’ everyone spoke of, the one so close to Miss Liu—”

  “That was me.”

  He raised his head slowly. There was no fear in his eyes, only a clear, stubborn kind of calm.

  “I was frail from birth,” he said quietly. “My fate was said to be cursed. When I nearly died as a child, my father begged every healer he could find. At last one hermit read my stars and claimed my life would be cut short unless I spent my youth living as a daughter—to deceive misfortune and prolong my years.”

  He exhaled, the words heavy as if long kept inside.

  “So Father hid my true sex. Since then I lived behind closed doors, wearing a girl’s face and a girl’s name.”

  His voice softened. “As for Liu Yunlan… Miss Liu never knew the truth at first. I was afraid—afraid she’d be frightened away.”

  Mu frowned. “So you dealt with her all that time as a girl?”

  Li Qing nodded faintly. “She trusted me. Protected me. We never harmed anyone. Never deceived for gain.”

  A bitter smile tugged at his lips. “When she learned the truth, she didn’t turn from me. Instead she helped me keep it secret.”

  He looked up, meeting our eyes squarely. “We never meant to fool the world. We just wanted a little time—ordinary days, side by side. That would’ve been enough.”

  “Then… what about Zhuo’s third son?” I managed, clinging to the one detail that still made sense. “You used his name on purpose—to fool the Liu household?”

  “We three were once friends.” Li Qing’s eyes closed briefly, as if pressing back some emotion. “That jade token was his gift, long ago. I bound it with red thread and kept it in my rouge box—not as a token of love, but of mourning.”

  Gu’s tone deepened. “Yet you knew everyone thought you a woman. You met Miss Liu in private, often. Did you ever think what that would do to her reputation?”

  Li Qing flinched, then looked up sharply. “If I were truly a woman, would the world forgive us then? If I were truly a man, must I cast our bond aside like rubbish? Young Master Gu, I never meant her harm.”

  Each word seemed torn from his chest. “I only wished to keep her safe.”

  I hesitated, then asked softly, “Do you… know that she’s dead?”

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  Li Qing froze—utterly still, like struck by lightning.

  “What did you say?” His voice shot up an octave. “You said she’s dead?”

  My throat tightened. I could hardly meet his eyes. “…Yes. Seven days ago. The murder’s been the talk of the city. You didn’t know?”

  He staggered back two steps, then sank onto the stone steps, face pale as bone. His lips trembled soundlessly before he managed a whisper.

  “You— you were supposed to feign death. She was to follow the plan… why…?” His words dissolved into mutters, fragments too faint to catch.

  My stomach turned cold, but Gu’s voice cut through, low and steady. “You said ‘feign death.’ What plan was this?”

  Li Qing clutched his head. “We only wanted to leave—quietly, without alerting anyone. She said she could handle it, that she could endure until I fetched her. I left her a letter, a token. I was to meet her outside the city a few days later…”

  His words broke apart. “Why did it end like this…”

  The air was dead. Only the distant watch-drum echoed, dull and mournful, as though even the night grieved.

  Li Qing’s shoulders quivered. His voice dropped to a near-whisper. “We never meant to go like this… in such haste.”

  When he looked up again, his face was bloodless, his expression hollow—like someone crawling out of hell.

  “Yunlan knew she couldn’t escape forever. She was already betrothed to the governor’s son—an arrangement made since childhood. When she came of age, they were to marry.”

  That sentence hit me hard.

  “She never cared for him,” Li Qing went on. “She said he was all polished virtue outside, rotten within. She didn’t want to live behind a mask as some nobleman’s wife. But the governor’s household was powerful, her father dared not defy them. That man sent letter after letter, pressing her until she couldn’t sleep at night.”

  “So you two decided…”

  He swallowed hard, voice shaking. “The plan was for me to die of illness… and for her to be taken by a ghost.”

  I blinked. “A… ghost?”

  “Because we were always together,” Li Qing said, anger barely restrained beneath the grief. “Servants whispered, neighbors gossiped, the rumors reached the Liu family. Her grandmother was furious, but couldn’t make it public—so she told people the girl had been possessed by some old haunting spirit in the estate.”

  A bitter laugh escaped him. “That absurd tale of ‘the spirit of the Jade General possessing her’—it began then. The whole household half-believed it. She said we could use that to our advantage.”

  “I would take ill first. My father would send me out of the city for convalescence, to a temple in the mountains. She’d remain, pretending to be under a ghost’s influence, until the story spread wide enough. Then, when everyone thought her spirit stolen, she could vanish for real.”

  His voice dropped to a thread. “She said people fear ghosts more than scandal. If they thought she was lovesick, they’d never let her go. But if they thought she was cursed, they’d hurry to get rid of her.”

  He swallowed hard. “We agreed—she’d leave a farewell note, saying her soul had wandered to the place she loved most. She’d hide the jade token in a rouge box. Her maid Chun-niang would smuggle it out to me as our sign.”

  “She wrote two letters. One feigning madness, to convince the others she’d lost her mind. The second… for me. She said she’d slip away three days later during a memorial visit. We’d meet on the road and flee together.”

  His voice cracked. “But she never came.”

  He sounded like someone still trying to believe it was all a mistake. “She was so calm that night. She said—‘They fear ghosts, not people.’ She forgot… people can kill for ghosts.”

  “Kill… for ghosts,” I murmured, echoing.

  Li Qing went still, as if those words had driven a nail through his heart. His lips trembled. “So I thought… something must’ve gone wrong at the Liu estate.”

  He hesitated, eyes darting with unease. “While I was hiding, I heard talk—how Master Liu’s temper had turned foul. Even the servants were punished. Strange men were coming and going—soldiers, by their speech. Yunlan said it was her grandmother’s birthday, the house decked for celebration… but then—”

  His voice broke again, hoarse and ragged. “After she… after the news, people in the market said they saw a coffin carried from the Liu residence at midnight, through the back gate. I thought it was an old servant who’d died. Now… now I see…”

  A chill ran down my spine. “She must have been imprisoned there long before the end.”

  Li Qing froze, realization dawning with horror. He looked up sharply. “If she truly died… why did no one speak? Why did the Liu household stay silent? I waited seven days. No word—no mourning, no notice coming to me. Nothing.”