That Dropped Chinese Novel’s Useless Me Says No to the System Chapter 35 The One Who Would Die Twice

The next morning, Gu ordered the carriage prepared.

“We found a few leads last night,” he said, his voice calm as ever. “But to tell truth from rumor, we’ll have to speak to soone who knew her best. Miss Liu’s maid—Chun-niang—is the key.”

I climbed into the carriage beside him, barely hiding my excitent.

“First we sneak into Haisu Hall, now we’re going straight into the Liu estate? At this rate, it’s a cri you’re not the city constable already.”

Mu gave a sidelong glance. “If you had half his restraint, we’d be fine.”

By the ti we reached the Liu estate, Gu had already sent word ahead. Soon, an old servant hurried out to et us.

“Master Gu,” he bowed quickly, “Chun-niang isn’t in the rear court. It’s the seventh day since our young lady’s passing—she went to the ancestral hall at dawn to keep vigil. Nearly fainted several tis, saying she ant to follow her mistress in death…”

Gu’s brows tightened. “To the ancestral hall,” he ordered.

The hall stood deep within the back grove, shrouded in mist and the scent of wet earth. As we drew near, the air trembled with sobs and chaos.

“Let go! I’ll join her—she’s afraid to be alone, I can’t leave her like that—”

“Chun-niang, please, stop!”

“Let go! She’s lying there all alone—what use is my life without her?”

A chill ran down my spine. “She’s… she’s going to smash her head on the coffin?”

Sure enough, the mont we stepped inside, we saw Chun-niang with her hair disheveled, kneeling before the lacquered coffin. Her eyes were bloodshot, her body trembling as she leaned forward, ready to crash headlong against it.

Before she could, Mu moved. One flick of his sleeve, a gust of wind, and he pulled her back just in ti.

Chun-niang fell to the floor, gasping for air. Still, her gaze stayed fixed on the coffin—full of despair, her tears hitting the floor one by one.

“Please… don’t stop …” she sobbed. “My mistress treated like family. I failed her. There’s no one left for to serve…”

I stepped forward, bowing slightly.

“Madam, think this through. You hurl yourself against that coffin—what do you think you’ll accomplish? The dead can’t hear your pain, but the living will gossip for years. If you really care for your mistress, then help her find justice. Help us find who killed her.”

She only wept harder, but Mu crouched down beside her and said softly,

“Chun-niang… last night, soone found a letter in Haisu Hall. A letter your mistress wrote before she died. It ntioned—Li Qing.”

Her eyes snapped up, disbelief flashing through her tears. “What did you say?”

“We only wish to uncover the truth,” Gu said gently. “You served her closely. You must know who she corresponded with, who she trusted.”

Chun-niang bit her lip, hesitating. After a long silence, she whispered, “What do you wish to ask?”

I glanced at the other two and said carefully, “Was Miss Liu’s bond with Li Qing… perhaps deeper than people believe?”

Her face went pale, then composed again. “They knew each other from childhood. They read together, copied sutras, watched lanterns—sisters in all but na. But Miss Li’s health declined over the years. They t less often.”

“And what about the third young master of the Zhuo family?” I asked.

Chun-niang’s gaze flickered. “He was often there too. The three of them loved poetry and calligraphy, spent long afternoons at Haisu Hall writing together. But the young master went off to war years ago and never returned.”

“Then why,” I pressed, “did your mistress hide that jade token?”

“That token,” Chun-niang murmured, “was given to by Miss Li herself—to deliver into Miss Liu’s hands. She said… Miss Liu was the only one she could trust.”

“…Why didn’t she give it herself?”

Her eyes lowered. “Because by then, Miss Li was already gravely ill. She was… near death.”

My heart sank. “So she truly… passed away?”

For a heartbeat, Chun-niang froze. Then she whispered, “Yes.” But that hesitation… I heard it.

I leaned in. “What illness? When did it happen? Which doctors treated her?”

It was like I’d said sothing forbidden. Her eyes darkened, fear giving way to defiance. She sat upright, arms folded tight around her knees.

“I’ve told you all I know. Miss Liu’s death had nothing to do with the Lis or the Zhuos. Please—let her rest in peace.”

Gu didn’t move. He studied her quietly, then asked, “You said they were close. Did they ever exchange letters?”

Chun-niang trembled slightly. “They did, Master Gu.”

That made perk up. “And those letters—are they still around?”

She hesitated. “Miss kept them in a small chest. I saw it once—letters they’d written over the years, poems and such. I peeked at a few—mostly talk of boating in spring, watching lanterns in sumr. Then one day the chest vanished. Miss said she’d lent it to Li Qing.”

“Did Li Qing ever return it?” Gu asked.

“No,” Chun-niang said after a pause. “I never saw it again.”

Mu’s tone stayed mild. “Do you rember any of the signatures or dates?”

“So had dates… from two, maybe three years ago. After Miss Li fell ill, she stopped writing much. The last letter Miss received—she read it, cried, and told to burn it.”

“…Did you?” I asked.

Her gaze darted away. “I did,” she said quietly. But I could tell she hadn’t.

Gu finally rose to his feet. “I’ll rember your words. If any keepsake remains, I trust you’ll tell us when the ti cos.”

Chun-niang didn’t reply. She just curled tighter, weeping in silence.

The three of us left the hall. Dawn light filtered through the mist; the old cypress in the courtyard stirred faintly in the wind, its shadow fractured across the stone path.

We stood there for a long while, each lost in thought.

Finally, I couldn’t help but whisper,

“You two think… maybe she really didn’t burn that letter?”

Gu said nothing, so I went on, “She was too guarded. Like she’s afraid one word would bring the sky down. What if—what if Li Qing’s ‘death’ wasn’t real?”

Mu spoke softly. “She knows more than she dares to say.”

“Then what now?” I asked, eyes bright. “Should we… go back to Haisu Hall?”

Gu thought for a long mont, then nodded slowly.

“Tonight,” he said. “We go again. This ti—we find out whether Li Qing truly died… or chose to disappear.”