TSFLIP Chapter 808

After about fifteen minutes, Wu Qi followed the constable back to his old home. The ten-year-old boy looked surprised for just a moment when he saw Feng Guang in Shu Feng’s arms. Then his expression returned to normal, and he bowed politely to Shu Qiu.

“Master Shu,” he greeted obediently.

“Ah, Wu Qi—you’re here, good.” Shu Qiu rubbed the back of his head, struggling to find the right words to begin.

Feng Guang, realizing she was still being held in the man’s arms, blushed and whispered, “Put me down.”

She didn’t even have the heart to wonder why she had suddenly fainted and ended up there.

Leaning close to her ear, Shu Feng mimicked her hushed tone. “Is it really so bad, being held by me?”

Her cheeks burned hotter. She glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention, and, relieved, tugged at his sleeve. “I’m not a little kid anymore. People will laugh if they see!”

“Only six years old and already worrying about that?” he teased. When she glared at him, he chuckled and finally set her down. Then, almost tenderly, he added, “But if you get sleepy again, I can always carry you.”

“I don’t need that!” she huffed, turning her head away—but not fast enough to hide the blush creeping up her ears.

Meanwhile, Shu Qiu seemed to have settled on his words. He asked gently, “Wu Qi, do you know that your house has a secret chamber?”

Wu Qi’s face went pale. He lowered his head, his voice trembling. “I … I know. Mother said when Father was alive, it was just a cellar for storing vegetables—so we could sell them later when the season changed. But after Father died, she said it went unused. That’s what she told me.”

“So, you’ve never been inside yourself?”

“No,” the boy admitted after a pause. Then he hesitated before continuing, “But … sometimes, I saw my mother going down there.”

Shu Qiu asked, “Do you know what she was doing?”

“I … I don’t,” Wu Qi stammered, unable to go on.

“Wu Qi, I know she’s your mother,” Shu Qiu said softly, “but it’s time to tell us everything you know.”

“Yes, sir.” Wu Qi’s gaze dropped. “Mother never let me near the cellar or told me what she was doing. But I was curious … so one day, I peeked. I saw … I saw something terrible. I was so scared, I didn’t know what to do …”

His voice broke, heavy with sobs.

Feng Guang turned to Shu Feng. “What was in the cellar?”

“That isn’t something you need to know,” he replied quietly.

Her stomach twisted. “Don’t tell me it was … ”

Shu Feng took her hand and placed a piece of candy in her palm. “You don’t have to worry about that. Here—I brought sweets today. Do you want one?”

“Yes.” She squeezed the candy tightly and moved closer to him, clutching his sleeve as if to push away the image that had flashed through her mind.

Shu Qiu sighed. “I understand you’re still a child and couldn’t have known what to do. But … there were many bodies down there.”

“When I went to peek, Mother caught me,” Wu Qi said through tears. “There were already so many … so many dead … I couldn’t save them …”

Guilt and sorrow overwhelmed him, and at last, the boy began to cry.

He was only ten—far too young to have witnessed such horror.

“Wu Qi,” Shu Qiu continued gently, “do you know why your mother did those things? Everyone in the neighborhood said Madam Liu was kind, gentle, and harmless—she wouldn’t even kill a chicken. Why would she suddenly …?”

Wu Qi wiped his tears, choking on his words. “Mother said she felt sorry for me … because I didn’t have a father, and she couldn’t give me a complete family. She said those other children … they had both parents, happy homes … and she … she grew jealous. She said it wasn’t fair. But I never cared about that! Even without a father, I was happy just having her …”

“So, because of jealousy … she killed them?” Shu Qiu asked quietly.

It sounded absurd—and yet, not entirely impossible.

Madam Liu had been a widow for years, raising her child alone while others around her enjoyed perfect, harmonious families. Perhaps at first, it was only envy. But envy, when left to fester, could become something darker.

Jealousy—it’s a terrible thing. It strips away reason, turns people into someone they no longer recognize, and drives them to commit acts they’d once thought impossible. A tiny spark can ignite a wildfire—and jealousy burns just the same.

Feng Guang lowered her head, recalling what Shu Feng had once told her: that he already had someone he liked. At that time, her heart had ached with disappointment—but had there been a trace of jealousy, too?

Wu Qi continued, his voice small. “After I found out … Mother changed. She wandered around all day, muttering to herself, apologizing over and over … I was so scared.”

“Then … Madam Liu was killed afterward,” Shu Qiu said.

Wu Qi shook his head. “No. She wasn’t killed. She … she took her own life … right in front of me …”

He sank to his knees, clutching his head. Watching his own mother end her life—no child could ever forget that kind of pain.

“It’s my fault … if I hadn’t seen … if I hadn’t found out … she wouldn’t have …”

“This isn’t your fault,” Feng Guang said softly, walking over and offering him her small handkerchief. “Wu Qi, it’s not your fault.”

“Miss …” The boy lifted his tear-filled eyes. “If I’d only noticed sooner … maybe she wouldn’t have died …”

“Your mother’s choices weren’t yours to bear,” Feng Guang said, pressing the handkerchief into his hand with a quiet sigh.

The case that had haunted Tong County for so long was finally solved. But there was no relief—only sorrow. Five families had lost their children. Until now, their parents had clung to hope that their little ones were still alive somewhere. But death meant the end of every hope.

No one could have imagined that Madam Liu—the woman praised for her kindness—was the killer. Nor could anyone have guessed that she’d died by her own hand. Her wound had been so deep, and there’d been no sign she’d ever intended to end her life. Without the discovery of the cellar, this tragedy might have remained unsolved forever.

There were still loose ends to tie up, so Wu Qi had to accompany Shu Qiu back to the magistrate’s office to make an official statement.

As Feng Guang and Shu Feng walked home toward the Xia residence, a quiet melancholy lingered in her chest.

“What are you thinking about?” Shu Feng asked.

The sun was setting, the streets thinning as people hurried home. Though his unusual appearance drew curious glances, no one lingered to stare—unlike before, their walk this time was surprisingly peaceful.

“I was just thinking …” Feng Guang said softly. “Jealousy really is a terrifying thing.”

“Human emotions—joy, anger, sorrow, desire, greed, pride, envy—no one can escape them,” he replied. “Even saints feel jealousy.”

She looked up. “Even you?”

“Of course,” he said without hesitation.

His quick answer startled her. Someone like him—so composed, so perfect—hardly seemed capable of such a flaw. “What could you possibly be jealous of?” she asked.

“Healthy bodies. Youth. The freedom to live recklessly,” he said, smiling faintly. His tone was calm and distant, like a breeze drifting through a bamboo grove—serene, yet somehow sorrowful.

Feng Guang sighed. “I really can’t tell you feel jealousy at all.”

“There are many things you can’t see,” he murmured, ruffling her hair with quiet fondness. His voice was gentle, hiding truths she couldn’t begin to guess.

She frowned slightly. “I fell into that cellar … but when I woke up, you were there. How did you find me?”

He chuckled. “I was sitting at the manor when I suddenly sensed something. Maybe Heaven decided to send me, knowing Feng Guang was afraid of the dark, and told me to hurry and bring her out.”

It was clearly an excuse, but she knew pressing him for the truth would lead nowhere. So she matched his tone. “Then how did I fall asleep afterward?”

“Feng Guang was tired,” he said with a straight face. “Naturally, you fell asleep.”

Her lips twitched. “You make it sound … almost reasonable.”

“Then I’m glad you think so.” His eyes glimmered, clear and tranquil as still water—cool and soothing even in the heat of summer.

With him beside her, even the air felt lighter, the world calmer.

She stared at him for a long moment. “Shu Feng, you really are handsome.”

“I know,” he said with a soft smile. “You’ve told me before.”

“Well, saying it again doesn’t hurt.” She tilted her head toward the Xia residence gate. “I’m home.”

“I imagine Lord Xia and Lady Xia must be worried about you.”

She nodded, hesitating a moment. “Mm … I’ll go in then.”

He bent slightly, patting her head. “Go on.”

She turned back once at the doorway. “Goodbye,” she said, before running inside.

The sun had fully set by the time Wu Qi returned, walking beneath the silver light of the moon. When he reached the gate of the Xia residence, he stopped.

A man in white stood waiting outside—white hair, white robes, as if he had been there for quite some time. When Wu Qi approached, the man smiled faintly.

Then, in a low, almost pleasant voice, he asked,

“The taste of blood … it’s addictive, isn’t it?”