SES Chapter 174 Part 2

Since he was trying to earn favor with Mudaidai, the more effort the better. Luo Ren let him be.

Back in his room, Luo Ren unexpectedly received a call from the fortune-teller.

Without preamble, the man demanded, “Little Carrot, did you find that place—‘Under Yunling, Guansi Archway’?”

Luo Ren was momentarily speechless.

Forget finding it—he’d almost forgotten about it entirely over the past couple of days.

Fortunately, he reacted quickly and tossed the question back. “You found it?”

The fortune-teller said, “I’ve done a bit of research. Just a little.”

He said “a little” modestly, but his tone was brimming with pride. Luo Ren’s heart stirred—this sounded promising.

“There are three possible meanings of ‘Yunling.’ First, it could mean towering mountain ridges. Second, there’s a town called Yunling in Anhui Province. Third, it refers to the snow mountains in northwestern Yunnan—the watershed between the Lancang and Jinsha Rivers, with Jade Dragon Mountain as the main peak.”

Jade Dragon Mountain—that was Lijiang.

“I think the third is the most likely. But Yunling stretches a long way. Think about it—if it divides two major rivers, however long the rivers run, Yunling could extend that far. And mountains have branches. So ‘under Yunling’ doesn’t necessarily mean Lijiang—it could cover a very large area.”

Luo Ren agreed. “So those two lines define a general region. ‘Guansi Archway’ is the real pinpoint.”

The fortune-teller continued, “If that ‘four’ in Guansi Archway means four bays, then it’s a very strange archway.”

“Why?”

The fortune-teller snorted. He’d expected that question.

“Little Carrot, haven’t read much, have you? Do you even know what a paifang is? It’s a traditional structure—goes back to the Zhou dynasty. In ancient times, it was mostly used for commemoration or honor.”

“The common forms are one bay with two pillars, three bays with four pillars, five bays with six pillars. Think about the layout. One bay—two pillars. Three bays—four pillars dividing them.”

“So if it’s a four-bay archway,” Luo Ren ventured, “wouldn’t that mean five pillars?”

The fortune-teller burst into smug laughter. “I knew you’d say four bays. You uncultured swine. Didn’t you notice that all those examples are odd numbers?”

He was right—one, three, five.

The fortune-teller continued proudly, “That’s architectural aesthetics. Ancient buildings emphasized symmetry, but also a prominent center. Odd-numbered bays highlight the central bay, which is always larger and more ornate.”

Luo Ren understood immediately.

No wonder four-bay archways were rare—perfect symmetry would erase any sense of hierarchy.

“So,” the fortune-teller concluded, “if there’s such a strange archway within the area under Yunling, it’ll be easy to find. I’ve already asked an old friend to help look. Give it a couple of days—you’ll hear something.”

By the end, he was practically glowing with excitement. When he hung up, he was just short of blowing Luo Ren a kiss.

Luo Ren stared at his phone and smiled bitterly.

Strange—there’d finally been a breakthrough in tracking the murder slips, yet he felt no excitement at all.

Was it because of Leopard?

If Leopard was investigating him, Lijiang would be the first place he checked. Even with Aoki arranging protection, Luo Ren still worried about Hongsha and Wan San. He could only hope nothing would happen.

As for who would tape Cao Jiefang’s beak shut—an act deeply damaging to a small animal’s psyche—Wan San and Yan Hongsand both refused to do it.

So they settled it with rock-paper-scissors.

Five minutes later, Yan Hongsand approached Cao Jiefang in the corner of the courtyard, tape in hand.

Tonight, Cao Jiefang looked a little melancholy. Perhaps the lively bar had stirred some homesickness—he seemed unusually subdued.

Yan Hongsand forced a smile and edged closer.

Slowly—rrrip, rrrip—she pulled out the tape, chatting casually. “Jiefang, this is for your own good. Uncle Zhang’s been dying to eat chicken. If you crow again tonight, even the gods won’t save you.”

Cao Jiefang eyed the clear tape warily.

Yan Hongsand continued making things up. “Jiefang, this stuff’s great—like a lip mask. Wear it overnight and you’ll be a whole new bird…”

Seizing the moment, she lunged and wrapped the tape around his beak.

But if Cao Jiefang were going to submit quietly, he wouldn’t be Cao Jiefang.

With a furious flap of wings and a defiant “kuh—koh—loo,” he thrashed wildly and shot off Yan Hongsand’s shoulder.

So that’s how it is? Yan Hongsand finally dropped the act, murderous intent blazing. She grabbed a broom and charged after him.

Cao Jiefang fought and retreated, and soon Yan Hongsand had him cornered in an alley a street away. She rolled up her sleeves and barked, “Freeze! Don’t move!”

Cao Jiefang drooped his head and froze.

“That’s more like it,” Yan Hongsand said.

She crept closer, lining up her angle, ready to pounce—when Cao Jiefang suddenly beat his wings, kicked off the top of her head, and soared away, disappearing at the alley’s mouth.

He’d even learned how to deceive the enemy! And dared to step on her head! Yan Hongsand was nearly driven mad.

Cao Jiefang—if you’ve got the guts, don’t come back!

Clutching the tape, she turned back. Just as she stepped out of the alley, she froze.

A man in his early thirties leaned against the wall—lean but solid, eyes sharp, expression dark. He stood a head taller than her and stared at her coldly.

In his hand—

A chicken.

It was Cao Jiefang. His wings were pinned backward in the man’s grip, his former swagger gone. He didn’t struggle, his beady eyes empty with resignation.

What… was going on?

The man glanced at her and stiffly shoved Cao Jiefang toward her.

Cao Yanhua finally returned.

This time, he walked lightly, even humming. Instead of heading to his own room, he pushed open Luo Ren’s door, flicked on the light, and grinned slyly at Luo Ren, who squinted at the sudden brightness.

“Little Brother Luo, you’re a real romantic.”

Out of nowhere. Completely baffling. Luo Ren didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Cao Yanhua even shot him a wink. “My little master is very happy.”

Then he left—but poked his head back in. “Little Brother Luo, I put it by her pillow.”

“What nonsense is this?” Luo Ren sat up sharply. “Get back here!”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Cao Yanhua called.

“Put what by her pillow?”

Cao Yanhua blinked. “Love.”

Had Cao Yanhua finally lost his mind?

Luo Ren sat there, utterly confused. The door hadn’t closed properly, and fog slowly seeped into the room.

Love?

Humming, Cao Yanhua twisted his hips and started pulling down his pants. He’d barely gotten halfway when the door flew open. Luo Ren strode in and grabbed him by the collar before he could react.

“What did you put by Mudaidai’s pillow?”

Cao Yanhua struggled to breathe, clutching his waistband. “Y-your flowers…”

“What flowers did I give?”

“R-roses.”