Besides lying down, I also know a little about power struggles

Chapter 94 Secret Message
Fang Tong turned his head and looked at the figure in front of the door.

Lights had already been lit in the courtyard, making the house seem even darker.

Feng Twelve stood at the door, quickly glanced into the room, and his eyes fell on Fang Tong.

Fang Tong withdrew his gaze and looked down at his hands. There was blood mixed with pancreatic foam, and it was a mess, as if a body had been dismembered.

Feng Twelve also saw her hand.

He frowned slightly and walked in: "Are you hurt?"

Fang Tong hurriedly soaked his hands in water and said as he washed them, "It's not my blood."

She paused and lowered her voice: "It's Liu Congwen."

After she finished speaking, her nose suddenly felt sore. She stared at the blood in the basin and blinked quickly to force back the heat in her eyes.

Feng Twelve saw that her sleeves were hanging over the edge of the basin, half wet, so he reached out to roll up her sleeves.

He didn't say anything, but quietly rolled up the sleeves of both her hands, revealing her fair wrists.

There were still a few bloodstains clearly visible on the fair wrist. Fang Tong stopped rubbing and wiped the bloodstains from his wrist with force.

She stared at the blood in the basin, was silent for a moment, and then said, "Liu Congwen died in the alley behind the bookstore. When I saw him, he was still breathing."

But there is only one breath left.

She closed her eyes and said in a hoarse voice, "He was stabbed in the chest and his body is covered in blood."

Her right hand unconsciously grasped her left wrist, as if there was still sticky moisture on it, and rubbed it hard a few more times.

When Feng Twelve heard the news of Liu Congwen's death, his eyes darkened slightly.

He saw that she had rubbed the skin on her hands until it turned red, so he pulled her hand away: "Wait for me for a moment."

He took the basin and went outside. After a while he came back and placed a basin of clean water on the washstand.

The clear water was steaming slightly, and he held her hands and put them into the water.

The warm water flowed over Fang Tong's fingers, and a warmth surged to every part of her body. She was stunned for a moment, and felt the taut string in her heart slowly relax.

"Raise your hand." Feng Twelve said.

Fang Tong raised his hand subconsciously.

Her palms felt slightly cool. It turned out that Feng Twelve had reapplied the scented soap on her.

He washed her fingers one by one, just like washing the kitten's paws, and even washed her wrists again. Then he took the cloth from the rack and wiped her hands dry.

Fang Tong let him do what he wanted in a daze, looking at his drooping eyelashes in the dim light. She felt a wave of fatigue all over her body, making her not want to move.

"Do you want to change your clothes?" Feng Twelve looked at her wet sleeves.

Fang Tong's eyes widened and he came to his senses.

"Wait," she reached into her sleeve pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper.

There was blood on the paper, Liu Congwen's blood.

"This is something Liu Congwen stuffed into my hands before he died," Fang Tong said, "I haven't opened it yet."

"Did anyone else see it?" Feng Twelve took the piece of paper.

"No." Fang Tong spoke to him for a few words, and his expression gradually became normal. "He ran into the alley alone, and then fell to the ground. I wanted to find the bookstore owner to go with me, but I found a few suspicious people at the door of the store. I didn't dare to say anything and sneaked out from the corner door in the backyard."

"Did Liu Congwen say anything?" Feng Twelve asked.

Fang Tong shook his head, his heart sank again as he recalled the scene at that time: "He was lying on the ground motionless, and I turned him over and saw a knife in his chest."

She pursed her lips, calmed down her emotions, and continued, "I leaned over to feel his breath, and as soon as I reached out my hand, he grabbed me and stuffed this piece of paper into me."

She smiled bitterly and said, "I was scared and didn't have time to check the knife. I heard someone coming nearby, so I hurried back to the backyard." Feng Twelve listened to her quietly and looked at her: "You have done a good job of not being discovered."

Fang Tong's eyes became hot and he turned his head to look at the lights outside the window.

The courtyard was shaded by green trees, with a corner of the gate visible. It was there that she met Liu Congwen ten days ago.

"This is the first time... someone I know has died in front of me," she whispered. "I watched him die, and I couldn't do anything."

She was not familiar with Liu Congwen, let alone have any friendship with him, but she hated this feeling of powerlessness.

This feeling of powerlessness was like facing her own death; unpredictable and irresistible.

"I told you, you've done very well." Feng Twelve looked at the tiny sparkle in her eyes and emphasized, "You don't have to blame yourself."

"I don't blame myself," Fang Tong twitched his lips, slightly self-deprecating, "I just find it hard to accept that a good person suddenly died."

Feng Twelve walked to the corner of the room and lit the candle on the candlestick.

The orange-yellow light became brighter, and Fang Tong narrowed his eyes slightly, somewhat unable to adapt to the sudden brightness.

"I never think about these things when I kill people." Feng Shier lit the last candle and extinguished the fire starter in his hand.

"You kill people because they want to harm you." Fang Tong said, "But the death of an ordinary person is different."

Feng Twelve looked at the flickering candle flame and said, "As far as the results are concerned, there is no difference."

Fang Tong was stunned.

"Indeed," she lowered her eyes and looked at the tip of her shoes, "dead is dead, there is no difference."

This topic was very heavy. She raised her hand, clenched her fist and rubbed her brows: "Let's not talk about this anymore. Let's take a look at what's written on the piece of paper first."

Feng Twelve opened the paper. It was a three-inch square piece of white cotton paper with a soft and flexible texture. On the paper were several lines of words written in neat regular script:

“The bright light shines on all the trees, and the warm wind destroys the cold smoke.

Butterflies dance on the flowers, and orioles sing on the waxing moon.

The incense intoxicates the traveler, and his thoughts are lingering by the window. "

He glanced over and remained silent.

Fang Tong walked over and read the contents clearly by candlelight, frowning slightly: "Is this a poem?"

Feng Twelve nodded: "It looks like it."

Fang Tong recited the poem softly: "The rhyme of this poem is weird, and the parallelism is not neat."

"Liu Congwen is the clerk of Prince Jing's palace. He has outstanding literary talent. If this is his poem, it really does not live up to his reputation." Feng Twelve said.

"Could it be a secret message like an acrostic poem?" Fang Tong speculated, "He is willing to risk his life to hand it over to me. It must be very important to him."

"The secret words in the poem can be slowly deciphered," Feng Twelve said, "but why did he give it to you?"

"He saw me when I was on the rockery in the backyard." Fang Tong said, "On the day we first came to the inn, he passed by the gate. He must have seen me, right?"

Feng Twelve stared at the blood-stained paper in his hand and thought for a moment: "After he died, you said you heard footsteps. Did you see anyone?"

"I hid in the backyard and heard someone talking outside. It sounded like they were looking for him. I heard footsteps that sounded like there were three or four people. I was afraid of being discovered, so I went back to the store in front," Fang Tong recalled. "By the way, when I returned to the store, the people who were peeking outside the door were gone."

"Do you still remember what they looked like?" Feng Twelve asked.

Fang Tong thought for a while and said, "There are three people. They are dressed like ordinary people. They don't have any obvious features. But I can feel that they have a kind of underworld atmosphere."

"The assassin from White Bird Pavilion?"

"No," Fang Tong denied flatly, "The assassins from the White Bird Pavilion wouldn't be so reckless. They are more like street thugs like the Wuling Evil Youngsters."

(End of this chapter)