[To Become a River of Stars] Dong Xiange - Chapter 17

“Wasn’t all of this within your plans from the beginning?”

Qiuxin was briefly taken aback.

She had always flawlessly played the part of a pitiful, delicate, yet chaste woman. Even after becoming a pleasure slave, she refused to be tarnished by the dirt of the world.

But for just that fleeting moment, her mask cracked. Shiliu had been skilled at pretending since childhood and was therefore highly sensitive to any form of disguise.

In the next instant, however, Qiuxin once again wore a gentle smile, tinged with just the right amount of confusion, and asked, “Daoist Priest, I truly don’t understand what you’re talking about. I only just learned about this matter myself.”

Shiliu found it utterly boring.

Extremely boring.

She looked directly at Qiuxin and said, “Wang Qi is dead. If I wanted to expose you, I wouldn’t have waited until we were alone. Acting like this is really pointless.”

Qiuxin seemed unprepared for her directness, and even more surprised that this seemingly proper and rigid young Daoist would say something like “really pointless.”

She lowered her head and chuckled softly, her eyes, clear as autumn water, turning to Shiliu with a hint more sincerity and a little less of that crafted docility.

“Daoist Priest, you are not a woman. You don’t know how much suffering and hardship women must endure in this world just to survive, let alone live well. If we weren’t cautious, how could we have survived until today?” A glimmer of light gathered in her eyes, revealing a trace of genuine feeling.

But Shiliu was a woman, and she truly knew how difficult a woman’s life could be.

When she grew to twelve or thirteen, buds began to swell on her chest. From then on, she had to bind her bre*sts tightly with cloth every day. Her tender flesh was pressed down hard; it was very painful at first, hurting at the slightest touch, let alone being bound so tightly.

Limited by her physique, Shiliu couldn’t keep up with her senior brother in sword dancing, fist fighting, or horse-stance training. Even after her junior brothers in the sect grew stronger, she still fell short. Yet, her master never relaxed his demands, so Shiliu had no choice but to train rigorously day after day.

Moreover, to fake an Adam’s apple, she had made numerous shallow cuts on her throat with a small knife, repeatedly breaking the skin until a raised scar finally formed.

Even someone as thick-skinned and resilient as Shiliu had spent countless nights throughout her life lying awake, terrified of being exposed.

But Shiliu didn’t think her own struggles were exceptionally hard.

The world is full of suffering: those who sell their children, those who sleep on the streets, those who sell their smiles from balconies.

Who doesn’t have it difficult?

Shiliu remained unmoved by her tears and said, “It seems my guess was correct.”

Realizing she was facing a monastic who dealt with spirits, severed worldly karmic ties, and cut through attachments to achieve purity, Qiuxin wiped away her tears and admitted candidly, “Yes. I thought my arrangements were quite thorough, and I left no loose ends. How did you discover it, Daoist Priest?”

She stared intently at Shiliu, clearly still on guard.

“Your account of your grievances was excellently delivered, except for one point that defied logic. If you were truly wronged, why would you proactively bring up Lürü, who was convicted of adultery, associating yourself with an adulteress? By specifically reminding Prince Ding of his ‘clouds of green hats’ [cuckoldry], weren’t you afraid he would redirect his anger onto you?”

Qiuxin looked at Shiliu with a complicated expression and sighed. “And yet, you still helped me. I heard it was you who proposed a thorough investigation that day.”

“I didn’t do it for you. Don’t flatter yourself,” Shiliu cut her off bluntly.

“I’ve always wondered: with Wang Qi’s cunning mind, why would he leave behind evidence like the clay figure?”

“Later, when I saw the half-painted fan on your table and the landscape painting of the four seasons on your wall, I knew this was a trap you laid.”

The fan was half-painted, but the right side was completed first. If someone were right-handed, they would usually start from the left to prevent smudging the ink with their hand.

Moreover, both the fan and the landscape on the wall were exquisitely painted. For a skilled artist capable of such work, forging an identical painted clay figure wouldn’t be impossible.

“It wasn’t that Wang Qi carelessly left the clay figure behind. Rather, after he took it, you forged another one. That’s why he didn’t dare to take it immediately that day—he feared it was a trap I had set. It was only after he saw that I seemed unaware that he came secretly at night to retrieve it.”

“Daoist Priest, you’ve told a very thrilling story. A pity it’s just that—a story.” Qiuxin chuckled softly.

Shiliu knew she had admitted it so readily because she was aware there was no evidence; the case was already closed.

“But success lies with the clay figure, and failure also lies with the clay figure.” Shiliu raised the clay figure and looked at her as she spoke.

“What do you mean?” Qiuxin stared at the clay figure, instantly on alert.

“The surface of this clay figure has extremely fine pores. If the hands that shaped it were coated with ointment or cream, and it was kneaded into the clay, then after the figure dried slowly, the ointment would evaporate, leaving behind these pores.”

“I’ve seen Wang Qi’s hands. He doesn’t use hand ointment.”

Shiliu’s gaze fell on Qiuxin’s well-maintained hands.

Qiuxin subconsciously clenched her fingers, then relaxed them again, replying calmly, “I’m not the only one who uses hand ointments. It’s possible someone else framed me.”

“I asked the steward. Your household lives meticulously; each person is allotted a different ointment. This clay figure was air-dried, so there should still be some residual ointment inside. If we submerge it in water and wait for the oil to seep out, a comparison will reveal whose it is.”

Shiliu’s tone was flat, but her words sealed Qiuxin’s fate.

Qiuxin’s face remained calm, but the corners of her mouth trembled involuntarily. She forced herself to stay composed and asked, “Then, Daoist Priest, are you going to expose me?”

Shiliu shook her head. “If I had planned to, you would have been detained last night.”

“I’ve told you a story. Now it’s your turn.” She looked at Qiuxin, her meaning clear.

Qiuxin, however, laughed bitterly. When she spoke again, her tone was desolate, “What story is there to tell? There are only some old tales no one wants to hear.”

“Lürü and I both came from farming families, living on the outskirts of the capital. We led the most ordinary lives.”

“Then someone came searching for beautiful girls from humble households, offering a high price. My brother needed to marry, so my parents sold me. But I already had someone I loved. The three of us grew up together. If I left, Ah Rong’s parents would likely seek Lürü’s hand in marriage.”

“Back then, I was resentful and afraid of the uncertain path ahead. When that man came a second time to pay, I secretly waited by the ridge and told him there was another girl in the village who was even more beautiful. Lürü also had two younger brothers—her family would only desire that silver more than mine.”

“And so, Lürü and I were both chosen. After many twists and turns, we ended up in Prince Ding’s mansion. I just wanted to live a stable life, but Lürü seemed to develop genuine feelings.”

“I always felt guilty toward her, so I treated her extra well in daily life and tried to advise her. Prince Ding never paid us any mind. Getting close to him would only bring disaster. But she had fallen for him wholeheartedly. I thought… thinking of Ah Rong, whom I felt I had taken from her… if she loved Prince Ding, I should let her be.”

“But then suddenly, she was accused of adultery. I knew well that her heart belonged to another—how could she possibly betray him?”

“After her death, I refused to believe it. I finally uncovered some clues. I moved into her former courtyard and waited… waited until that familiar clay figure appeared again.”

“That was when I knew my chance had come.”

“I immediately incited everyone to seclude themselves for prayer. I dared not be alone whether walking, sitting, or resting. When I later showed false signs of pregnancy, many people could testify that I had absolutely no opportunity to commit adultery.”

“I was gambling with my life—betting that my fate wasn’t meant to end yet, that Lürü shouldn’t die in vain, that heaven’s principles are clear and retribution will come!”

By the end, she was sobbing uncontrollably.

Shiliu looked with complex emotions at the weeping woman before her.

Call her good? Yet, it was she who, for her own selfish desires, had utterly altered the peaceful life Lürü should have had.

Call her bad? Yet, she risked being condemned to death by those in power, staking her life and reputation to clear her dead sister’s name.

Love—what exactly is it? She truly didn’t understand. She only felt that this thing harms both others and oneself, troublesome and overly sentimental.

And perhaps even more harmful than love is that jade-faced King of Hell—deceptive in appearance, with a heart as cold as iron.

Shiliu shook her head, returned the clay figure to Qiuxin, and left on her own.