The Jinyiwei were unaware of Lin Ting’s presence; they only knew that Duan Ling was inside.
As they entered, they faced the screen but kept their heads lowered.
“Sir.”
They didn’t enter in a group but came in one by one.
This hall wasn’t large enough to hold too many people at once, and voices needed to be heard individually; otherwise, it would be impossible to distinguish one from another.
Lin Ting raised her eyes at the sound.
Even though the Jinyiwei were separated by the screen, she could vaguely make out their tall and strong physiques—broad shoulders, narrow waists.
She couldn’t help but wonder if the selection criteria for Jinyiwei were based on beauty.
Any random Jinyiwei plucked from the group could pass as a modern-day model—there were no short, ugly, or unkempt ones.
And Duan Ling was the most striking of them all, with an exquisitely handsome face, a slender waist, narrow back, and fair, delicate skin.
Thinking of this, Lin Ting pursed her lips and instinctively glanced at Duan Ling.
Since arriving at the Beizhen Fusi, he had donned official attire.
At this moment, one hand rested casually on his knee, pressing down on the golden embroidery of the crimson Flying Fish Robe, while the other absentmindedly twirled the fish-shaped token hanging from his waist.
Dressed in red, and without his Xiu Chun Dao at his waist, he had the air of a charming young scholar who had just passed the imperial examinations—like an innocent and naive “white lotus” stepping into the officialdom for the first time.
Fortunately, she had the script in her hands and knew the truth about these characters.
Otherwise…
Duan Ling lightly tapped the table.
Lin Ting quickly put on a serious expression, as if she were carefully listening.
She pursed her lips straight, leaned forward slightly, and turned her ear towards the screen while sneaking a glance at the shadow reflected on it.
Duan Ling lifted his eyes and instructed the Jinyiwei, “Say something.”
“What does the lord wish for me to say?”
The Jinyiwei was confused but did not dare to speak recklessly in front of Duan Ling, so he asked first.
Lin Ting did not let Duan Ling wait too long.
A few breaths after the Jinyiwei spoke, she shook her head.
She rejected them all at first—later, when she truly identified the traitor, she could simply claim she hadn’t recognized the voice at the time.
Duan Ling took a sip of tea.
“Alright, you may leave.”
“Yes, sir.”
Though puzzled, the Jinyiwei obeyed.
From the moment he entered to the moment he left, he never raised his head to look at the screen.
As a subordinate, it was disrespectful to look at one’s superior unless given permission.
As soon as this Jinyiwei exited, another entered, also facing the screen with his head lowered.
“Sir.”
Lin Ting shook her head again.
Duan Ling set down his teacup and repeated the previous words, “You may leave.”
This cycle continued until noon.
Then, Duan Ling ordered food to be brought in.
“Miss Lin Qi, you must be hungry. Eat something before we continue.”
Lin Ting looked at the dishes emitting a delicious aroma—succulent Lion’s Head meatballs with crab roe, glistening Dongpo pork, tender Beggar’s Chicken, sweet and sour pork ribs, and more.
She was truly hungry, but she didn’t dare to eat carelessly.
Would Duan Ling really not lace the food with a slow-acting poison?
It was said that Jinyiwei could use undetectable, tasteless, and colorless poisons that only took effect after a person left, making them suffer agonizing pain or even die later.
Thanks to her efforts, there were no new grudges between them, but past grievances still remained.
The key point was—those old grudges were caused by “her,” and the one who suffered was Duan Ling.
If anyone should harbor resentment, it would be him.
Lin Ting forcibly tore her gaze away from the food.
“I’m not hungry. Thank you.”
She had to hold back.
Duan Ling seemed unaware of her hesitation.
He picked up his jade chopsticks and tasted a piece of stir-fried bamboo shoots with meat.
Only after swallowing unhurriedly did he say, “The dishes today are quite good. Miss Lin Qi, are you sure you don’t want to try some?”
“Well, then, I shall accept your kind offer. Thank you, Lord Duan.”
Lin Ting could no longer resist.
She grabbed her chopsticks and picked from the same dish he had eaten—stir-fried bamboo shoots with meat.
After finishing the meat, she took a few bites of rice.
From then on, whichever dish Duan Ling ate from, she ate from as well.
If he didn’t touch a dish, neither did she.
Unfortunately, Duan Ling ate too slowly, leaving Lin Ting unsatisfied.
Usually, he would pick a dish first, and she would follow, but by the time she finished her portion, he was still eating his.
Perhaps noblemen like him paid more attention to dining etiquette.
Unconsciously, Lin Ting slowed her eating pace and waited for him.
When Duan Ling reached for another mild-tasting dish, she finally couldn’t hold back and spoke up.
“Lord Duan.”
He looked at Lin Ting with a puzzled expression.
She pointed at the Dongpo pork, swallowed, and said, “Don’t you want to try this Dongpo pork? It looks quite delicious.”
So many good dishes, yet he wasn’t eating them—such a waste.
But she still had to be cautious.
Duan Ling’s jade chopsticks made a slight turn, landing on the richly flavored Dongpo pork.
He tasted a bit and nodded. “Miss Lin Qi has sharp eyes. This Dongpo pork does taste quite good.”
Lin Ting, having eaten the Dongpo pork, wanted to try something else.
“You should also try the sweet and sour ribs.”
His hand holding the chopsticks paused for a moment before he complied and ate a piece of sweet and sour ribs.
After a moment, for some reason, he curved his eyes into a smile.
She bit into a rib and found his reaction odd.
“What’s so funny?”
His smile made her feel uneasy.
Duan Ling set down his chopsticks, poured a cup of fragrant tea, took a few sips, then wiped his hands with a handkerchief.
Looking at her with a half-smile, he said, “Why do I feel like I’m testing for poison for you?”
Lin Ting nearly choked, coughing for a while before regaining composure.
“What kind of nonsense is that? How could I possibly make you test for poison?”
Your feeling is right, though.
I was indeed making you test for poison.
“I was just saying it casually. No need to take it seriously, Miss Lin Qi.”
“Lord Duan, you’re not eating anymore?”
Lin Ting noticed that Duan Ling had no intention of picking up his chopsticks again.
Otherwise, he wouldn’t have wiped his hands.
Duan Ling seemed thoughtful as he hummed a response.
“I’ve had enough.”
Lin Ting glanced at the untouched Lion’s Head meatballs with crab roe and Beggar’s Chicken, regretting the wasted delicacies.
But in the end, she reluctantly put down her chopsticks.
“I’m full too.”
It was best not to touch the dishes Duan Ling hadn’t eaten.
Since she wasn’t hungry anymore, they should get back to listening—the sooner they finished, the sooner it would be over.
Eating her fill had made her sleepy.
The dishes were cleared away, and they resumed sitting behind the screen, listening to the voices of the Jinyiwei.
After listening to over two hundred voices, Lin Ting was completely numb, nearly falling asleep.
She rested her chin on her palm, repeatedly shaking her head and saying, “No, it’s not him.”
There were far more Jinyiwei than this, but given Duan Ling’s current rank, he couldn’t summon them all at once.
Some were not under his jurisdiction.
In a daze, Lin Ting felt as if her ears were surrounded by the phrase “Lord” because every Jinyiwei entered and greeted first with “Lord.”
Duan Ling, however, remained composed, sitting leisurely beside her, listening together.
Even though she kept denying each one, like a fraud, he showed no impatience.
His remarkable patience and refined upbringing were evident.
By the time they finished, the sun had set.
Duan Ling personally escorted Lin Ting out of the Beizhen Fusi.
At the gate, a carriage had already been prepared.
He smiled politely.
“Miss Lin Qi, thank you for your hard work today. Take care.”
“Should I come back tomorrow?”
“I have official duties tomorrow, so there’s no need to trouble you again.”
Duan Ling gestured for someone to place a footstool beside the carriage to help her get in.
“It’s getting late. You should go home.”
Lin Ting hesitated, feeling guilty.
“Sorry, I didn’t find that person today.”
Duan Ling glanced at her, then lowered his eyes to her hands, which had once embraced his waist.
For some reason, he thought of what had happened the day before.
“It’s fine. You did your best.”
Lin Ting blurted out, “Then when will I see you again?”
Duan Ling raised his gaze to her.
“Miss Lin Qi wants to see me?”
She had been appearing before him quite often lately, speaking more, and her attitude toward him had subtly changed.
That was one way to put it, but it sounded strange and ambiguous—not appropriate for their relationship.
She rephrased her words.
“I promised to help you find the person plotting to kill you, didn’t I?”
“A promise is a promise. I always keep my word.”
Duan Ling’s smile didn’t fade.
“I appreciate your kindness. If I ever need your help in the future, I’ll be sure to seek you out.”
Lin Ting stepped onto the footstool and into the carriage.
Once inside, she leaned against the small window, lifted the curtain, and waved casually.
“Then I’ll be going now. Lord Duan, no need to see me off.”
He stood in place, watching her.
The faint glow of the setting sun tinged Lin Ting’s hair with a golden-red hue.
Her face was backlit, but her eyes shone brightly as she looked at him.
Duan Ling’s smile subtly faded.
After seeing Lin Ting off, he stayed at Beizhen Fusi for only a short while before returning to the Duan residence.
The place he spent the most time in at home was his study, and today was no exception.
He activated a mechanism on the bookshelf, revealing a row of small transparent glass jars neatly arranged.
He slowly walked past them.
His fingertips lightly tapped on the glass, producing a crisp, pleasant sound.
For some reason, his mood felt peculiar today—an emotion that couldn’t be described simply as joy, anger, sorrow, or happiness.
Yet, looking at the eyes inside the jars seemed to soothe him slightly, suppressing the unsettling urge to dissect a living person.
The eyeballs inside the glass jars floated slightly due to the tapping, as if they had a life of their own.
Duan Ling’s steps became lighter, his gaze tracing their outlines, as if he were admiring a beautiful scene.
His sense of pleasure deepened.
His gaze paused on one of the bloodstained eyeballs.
Suddenly, he took down a jar and opened it, retrieving an eyeball that floated in the preserving liquid.
Even with special medicinal preservation, eyeballs could only be stored for a limited number of years.
These two had already rotted, emitting a foul stench, and the surrounding liquid had turned murky.
On closer inspection, tiny yellow maggots were rapidly multiplying and wriggling inside the eyeball.
Before long, the inside of the eyeball would be completely hollowed out by the maggots, devoured, dissolved, and reduced to nothing.
Everything he liked could never be preserved forever.
Even after treating these eyeballs with priceless medicines, it was still impossible.
Duan Ling studied them for a moment, then fed the two eyeballs to the dog he raised in the courtyard.
In the blink of an eye, the dog had devoured them, wagging its tail eagerly, as if wanting more.
He bent down—not touching the dog’s mouth—just gently stroking its head.
Duan Ling gazed at the dog for a while before standing up and leaving.
Returning to his study, he washed the emptied glass jar before placing it neatly back on the bookshelf.
His desk was piled with unfinished official documents.
After cleansing his hands again, he sat down and began reviewing them.