The sound of the person knocking on the door grew more distant. Chu Mengjun quickly leaned close to Fu Zhuo and whispered, "Quick, move the dder over here and pce it."

  Fu Zhuo hesitantly moved the dder to the spot Chu Mengjun pointed at. The dder was just long enough to reach the courtyard wall. Chu Mengjun broke into an excited smile, but Fu Zhuo looked reluctant. After all, this was his father's shop, and sneaking in to steal something in the dead of night didn't sit well with him.

  “The authorities have already sealed this shop. If we go in like this and the authorities find out, we'll be in trouble. Besides, you know what kind of business my father was running. Even if there's money, that money is still... Fu Zhuo really disliked using money from the dead.

  "Hmph! Your father is a famous tailor in the capital. Don't be fooled by how stingy he usually seems—he's definitely got some silver hidden away. If we don’t take it now, are we supposed to wait until the authorities confiscate it all? Hmph, you're such a useless man!” Chu Mengjun gred coldly at Fu Zhuo, still unable to understand why she had married him.

  Fu Zhuo fell silent. He always listened to his wife, and even if he didn't agree, his objections never went beyond his own thoughts.

  The dder wasn′t very long, but climbing it felt agonizingly slow to Fu Zhuo. His heart pounded furiously the entire time, and he realized that this feeling of sneaking around was utterly unpleasant. Chu Mengjun, on the other hand, showed no sign of nervousness. For a moment, even Fu Zhuo couldn't help but ugh at how spineless he felt.

  The courtyard was eerily silent, with only the faint sound of their own footsteps breaking the stillness. Fu Zhuo couldn′t help but move a little closer to Chu Mengjun. Feeling the presence of another living person made him feel slightly more at ease.

  "You go check the room in the inner courtyard where people used to sleep. I'll go to that wooden house," Chu Mengjun ordered, her curiosity about the wooden house evident.

  "Huh?" Fu Zhuo muttered hesitantly. He really didn’t want to be alone in a dark, gloomy room.

  "Go on, you!" Chu Mengjun finally couldn't help but forcefully pushed Fu Zhuo towards the inner courtyard. Fu Zhuo was caught off guard and fell to the ground. Chu Mengjun shot him a gre, ignored him, and turned to walk towards the wooden house. Fu Zhuo rubbed his sore leg and limped towards the inner courtyard.

  The sleeping quarters were so rudimentary that Fu Zhuo was genuinely surprised. He had hardly ever been in this room before, and even if he had, it left no impression on him. Now, seeing it clearly, it felt downright shabby.

  Fu Zhuo pced the freshly lit candle mp on the table and casually rummaged around. Even as his son, he had no idea where Lao Fu might have hidden his silver. With a sigh, Fu Zhuo gave up. He plopped down onto the kang, crossed his legs, and leaned against the wall.

  A gust of cold wind blew by, and Fu Zhuo quickly opened his eyes. He had just felt someone approaching him. He looked around, but there was no one, nothing at all. Another gust of cold wind blew by, and Fu Zhuo couldn't help but feel a chill in his neck. He reached out and touched it, a wave of coldness rising from his heart. Could it be a ghost? Fu Zhuo instinctively leaned back into the room.

  In the corner, Fu Zhuo didn't know why he was looking towards the corner, but he always felt that the chill was coming from there. He unconsciously moved and got off the kang.

  The corner was very dark, so dark that he couldn't see anything. Fu Zhuo hesitated for a moment but still mustered the courage to reach out.

  It was a ledger. Fu Zhuo hadn′t expected to actually find something, but here it was—a bck ledger with the words "Ledger" written in white on the cover. Other than that, there was nothing particurly unusual about it.

  Maybe it was a ledger where Father recorded business transactions, accidentally left here, Fu Zhuo thought. She initially pnned to open it for a gnce but hesitated at the thought of the kind of business this shop conducted. In the end, she decided to show it to Chu Mengjun instead. After all, Chu Mengjun had always been a daring woman.

  When Fu Zhuo pushed open the wooden door, Chu Mengjun was bent over, her head buried in a basket as she rummaged through its contents. The bed, usually reserved for the dead, was already piled high with fabric, thread, and other such items. Fu Zhuo couldn′t help but shake his head.

  "Did you find anything?" Fu Zhuo asked.

  Startled, Chu Mengjun jumped up, pressing her back against the wall as she trembled all over. But when she realized it was Fu Zhuo, she quickly calmed down, her face turning expressionless as she said, "Done searching? Did you find anything?"

  Fu Zhuo couldn′t help but chuckle inwardly—so Chu Mengjun could feel fear too. Clearing his throat, he said, “Didn’t find much, just this ledger.” He pulled the bck ledger he had just found from his coat.

  “Ledger?” The word seemed to come from Chu Mengjun's nostrils, sounding muffled. She snatched the ledger, plopped down on a nearby stool, and began flipping through it casually under the dim and eerie candlelight.

  Chu Mengjun's expression grew increasingly grim. She could clearly hear the sound of her own heavy breathing. Her heart was pounding fiercely, and her hands were trembling so much that she could hardly hold onto the ledger.

  The ledger fell to the ground with a thud. Chu Mengjun didn’t even have the courage to stand up. Trembling, she slowly lifted her stiffening head and looked at Fu Zhuo, stammering, “This… this…” Even she didn’t know what she was trying to say.

  A drop of bright red blood fell silently, vanishing into a pile of fabric scraps. The crimson spot resembled a small red mole, fixed squarely at the center of a throat.

  Chu Mengjun stared at Fu Zhuo in shock and said, “What’s wrong with you? Why is there a bloodstain on your neck? Why is it still bleeding? Why…” Her rambling finally ceased as she widened her eyes, staring straight ahead. She could clearly see something emerging behind Fu Zhuo.

  A slender sewing needle danced lightly in the air, thick with the smell of death. A red thread swayed gracefully, shifting into various shapes with the needle's movements. A well-maintained hand controlled the fate of this needle.

  Chu Mengjun's face contorted in an instant, her features twisting into an almost unrecognizable expression…