Nine Nights Owl Song

On the afternoon of the day Ajiu left the Marquis of Dingyuan's residence, the residence was in complete chaos.

Su Zhentian sealed off the gates of the mansion, forbidding anyone from entering or leaving. He then summoned all the prominent stewards, matrons, and maids in the mansion to the courtyard in front of the main hall.

He stood on the steps, clutching the letter left by Ajiu in his hand, his face ashen, his gaze sharp as a knife, sweeping over the people standing below one by one.

"Who knows what happened on the night of your wife's childbirth sixteen years ago? Come forward now."

His voice wasn't loud, but every word struck like a hammer blow to the heart of everyone present.

"I can let bygones be bygones. But if I find out the truth myself, don't blame me for being ruthless."

More than thirty people stood silently in the courtyard. Some had their heads down, some were exchanging bewildered glances, some were pale-faced, and some were sweating profusely. But no one stepped forward.

Su Zhentian waited for the time it takes to drink half a cup of tea, but no one moved. He put the letter back into his sleeve, turned around, and went back to the main hall.

He didn't react on the spot because he knew that the matter was too complicated to be resolved through public questioning.

Aunt Zhou was an old servant in the household, having served him for nearly twenty years. She had managed the household for many years and had many trusted confidants.

If you alert her, she might destroy evidence, move stolen goods, or even silence anyone who knows the truth.

He needs time.

That night, Su Zhentian secretly summoned three old servants of the Marquis's mansion: the old gatekeeper, Uncle Fu; Granny Zhao, Shen's dowry maid; and Mr. Zhao, the accountant.

These three people were the only people he completely trusted.

Uncle Fu worked in the Marquis's mansion for forty years, watching Su Zhentian grow up from childhood, and was extremely loyal to the Su family.

Granny Zhao was someone Shen brought from her maiden home. She had been with Shen for thirty years and was closer to her than a sister.

Mr. Zhao was Su Zhentian's advisor. He had been in the Marquis's mansion for twenty-five years, managing all the mansion's accounts and documents.

Su Zhentian showed them the letter that Ajiu had left behind.

After reading the letter, Uncle Fu remained silent for a long time before finally saying, "My lord, this old servant is guilty."

"What crime?" Su Zhentian asked.

"Sixteen years ago, on the night the lady gave birth, this old servant saw someone at the back door."

Uncle Fu's voice was slow, as if he were recalling a past he would rather forget.

"A man dressed in black went out the back door, carrying a bundle in his arms. I felt something was wrong at the time, so I went out to take a look, but the man was already far away. The next day, I mentioned it to Cuiping, who served Aunt Zhou, and Cuiping said that he was her cousin, who came to deliver something to her. So I didn't pursue the matter any further."

Su Zhentian clenched his fist.

Why didn't you say so sooner?

"This old servant...this old servant never expected this." Uncle Fu knelt down.

"This old servant believed that he was truly Cuiping's cousin. This old servant deserves to die."

Granny Zhao was even more direct than Uncle Fu; tears were already welling up in her eyes.

"My lord, this old servant has long suspected it. When the lady was pregnant with that child, the imperial physician said her pulse was excellent and the baby was very strong. How could it have just disappeared like that? This old servant wanted to investigate at the time, but the lady was heartbroken and forbade anyone to mention it. This old servant dared not disobey the lady's wishes. Over the years... over the years, this old servant has never felt at ease."

Instead of expressing his suspicions, Mr. Zhao took out something—an old account book.

He turned to a certain page and pointed to a line of text on it for Su Zhentian to see:

"My lord, in the twelfth month of the first year of Yong'an, eighty taels of silver were spent from the account, recorded as 'for New Year's rewards to servants.' But the New Year's rewards for that year were already paid out on the fifth day of the twelfth month. This old servant found it strange at the time, but Aunt Zhou, who was in charge of the inner quarters' accounts, said it was a retroactive payment, so this old servant didn't dare to ask any further questions."

Su Zhentian closed the ledger and shut his eyes.

He had seen countless schemes and plots on the battlefield, but he never imagined that such filthy things would sneak into his home and kill his daughter.

But his daughter is still alive, a girl named Ajiu, who survived countless life-and-death battles.

She was alive, but the way she lived was more heartbreaking for Su Zhentian than if she had died.

"Tomorrow morning, I'll go to the Qianji Tower's outpost in the south of the city to find that midwife." Su Zhentian opened his eyes, his gaze resolute.

"Mr. Zhao, go and check all of Aunt Zhou's accounts over the years, one by one, don't miss a single one. Uncle Fu, try to recall what the man in black looked like sixteen years ago, even if you can't remember. Granny Zhao, keep Madam calm and don't let her reveal any flaws in front of Aunt Zhou."

The three men accepted the order and left.

Su Zhentian sat alone in his study, facing the nearly burnt-out oil lamp, for the entire night.

The next morning, Su Zhentian found the Qianji Tower's stronghold in the south of the city, following the address given by Ajiu.

It was an inconspicuous general store, not the same one that Xiao Yan had taken Ajiu to, but the furnishings were similar—dim lighting, a musty smell, and a hidden door leading underground.

The people from Qianji Tower were already waiting for him.

A man in his thirties, dressed in gray cloth clothes, with an ordinary face that would be easily lost in a crowd, led him to Granny Wang's bedside.

Granny Wang is even weaker than she was three days ago.

She was almost completely immobile; only her eyes could move, and her lips could move slightly, uttering indistinct sounds. But she was still somewhat conscious, and the moment she saw Su Zhentian, tears streamed down her face.

"My lord...my lord..." she cried, her voice broken and intermittent.

"I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry, madam... I'm so sorry, that child..."

Su Zhentian stood in front of the bed, looking down at the old woman who was about to die, without saying a word.

Granny Wang spent nearly an hour recounting the events of sixteen years ago, in fits and starts.

From how Aunt Zhou found her, to giving her fifty taels of silver, to where the dead baby came from, to Ajiu being taken away by a man in black and thrown into a mass grave.

Every detail was described clearly, including every word and action that Aunt Zhou spoke to her.

"Aunt Zhou said... said that Madam's baby won't survive..." Granny Wang's voice grew weaker and weaker.

"She said... if the lady gives birth to a son... the title of Marquis will not go to the eldest son born out of wedlock... she said she cannot let that happen..."

Su Zhentian's face darkened completely upon hearing those words.

He kept wondering why Aunt Zhou wanted to harm his daughter. He thought it was because of jealousy, since Madam Shen was the legal wife and Aunt Zhou was a concubine, and concubines were jealous of legal wives—it had always been this way since ancient times.

But now he knew it was for personal gain. The eldest son, Su Chengzhi, was born to Zhou Yiniang's niece. If Shen Shi gave birth to a legitimate son, Chengzhi would lose his position as heir. Zhou Yiniang wasn't harming his daughter; she was protecting the future of her Zhou family.

For a title she might never even get, she killed a newborn baby—no, not exactly killed, but it was more cruel than killing.

She abandoned a newborn baby in a mass grave, leaving her to die in the snow, to be eaten by wild dogs, and to freeze and starve to death.

Su Zhentian's fists clenched so tightly they cracked.

"She's still alive," he whispered, as if speaking to himself, yet also as if speaking to Granny Wang.

"My daughter is still alive."

Granny Wang nodded through her tears, "Alive...alive...My lord, that child...that child has suffered so much...you must treat her well..."

Su Zhentian did not answer.

He turned around and walked out of the room.

Standing in the sunlight outside the grocery store, he looked up at the sky and closed his eyes.

The sunlight shone on his face, on his graying temples and the deep wrinkles around his eyes, on his slightly trembling lips and his clenched fists.

A person who has seen life and death on the battlefield will not shed tears easily.

But his heart was bleeding, drop by drop, like the snowflakes falling from the sky on that snowy night sixteen years ago when his daughter was abandoned in a mass grave.

After returning from the south of the city, Su Zhentian did not go back to the Marquis's residence, but went directly to the Jingzhao Prefecture to find the old coroner of the Jingzhao Prefecture—an old man in his seventies who was known as a "living fossil".

The old coroner's surname was Qian. He lived in a village outside Luoyang City and was retired. Su Zhentian personally paid him a visit.

"Mr. Qian, I'd like to ask you for a favor," Su Zhentian said.

"Sixteen years ago, there was a stillborn baby in the Marquis of Dingyuan's mansion. I want to see the baby's remains."

The old coroner looked at him and remained silent for a long time.

"My lord, it's been sixteen years. Your bones have long since rotted away."

"It doesn't matter if it's rotten. I just need to confirm one thing: is that baby my daughter?"

The coroner, Mr. Qian, nodded and did not ask any further questions.

He packed up his tools and followed Su Zhentian to the place in the south of the city where the baby was buried.

They dug for a whole day.

Su Zhentian dug himself, shovel by shovel, breaking through the frozen soil, the gravel, and the ground compacted by time. Blisters formed on his hands, and even as the blisters burst, blood mingled with the mud, but he didn't stop.

Uncle Fu helped him from dawn till dusk.

As the sun was setting, they unearthed a small skeleton.

Only a few thin bones and a tiny skull remained.

The skull is only the size of a fist, and the skull is thin and brittle, breaking at the slightest touch.

The old coroner squatted on the ground, put on gloves, and carefully cleaned the bones, examining them one by one. He examined them for a long time, then looked up at Su Zhentian.

"My lord, this skeleton did not die shortly after birth."

Su Zhentian's pupils suddenly contracted.

"The sutures in a newborn's skull haven't closed yet," said Old Qian, pointing to the lines on the tiny skull.

"But the sutures in this skeleton have closed, indicating that the child lived for at least three months. Moreover, the child's limbs have obvious growth lines, which means it wasn't a stillbirth."

Su Zhentian squatted down, looked at the small bones, and reached out to gently touch the skull. The bone was cold, rough, and smelled of earth.

This is another child.

A child who had been dead for at least three months was buried in the ground as his daughter.

In order to switch his daughter's body with a stillborn baby from elsewhere, Aunt Zhou obtained a stillborn infant from elsewhere.

That stillborn baby also had parents, and was also expected to come into this world.

But after he died, he was used as a substitute and buried in a place that did not belong to him.

Su Zhentian held the skull in his hands, looked at it for a long time, and then gently and carefully put it back in its original place.

"Rebury this child," he said.

"Find a good place and erect a monument. Write 'Nameless Infant Spirit' on it."

Uncle Fu nodded.

Su Zhentian stood up, patted the dirt off his knees, and turned to leave.

The setting sun cast his shadow long and long behind him, like a spear stuck in the ground.

When he returned to the Marquis's residence, it was already completely dark.

The gates of the mansion were still open, and Madam Shen stood at the entrance waiting for him.

She was wearing a cotton robe, her hair was casually tied up, she wasn't wearing any jewelry, and the tear stains on her face hadn't dried yet.

She had been standing at the door for over an hour, and no one could persuade her to go back.

"Zhentian!" She rushed forward, grabbing his arm, her voice urgent and trembling.

"You found that midwife? Is what she said true?"

Su Zhentian looked at her, at her eyes that were red and swollen from crying—her left eye was more unfocused than her right, and she had gone half blind from crying sixteen years ago, and it had not recovered since.

He reached out and gently brushed the stray hairs from Shen's forehead behind her ear, his movements light and slow, as if he were handling a fragile piece of porcelain.

"To live," he said.

"Our daughter is still alive."

Shen's legs went weak, and she leaned against Su Zhentian, crying and trembling all over.

She cried for a long time, until her voice became hoarse and she could no longer cry out, but she was still silently shedding tears.

Su Zhentian held her without saying a word, just holding her.

"Will she come again?" Shen finally stopped crying, raised her head, and looked at Su Zhentian with her red, swollen, and half-blind eyes.

"She said she might come, or she might not. Zhentian, what if she doesn't come?"

Su Zhentian remained silent for a moment.

"She will come," he said. "She definitely will come."

How did you know?

Su Zhentian did not answer the question.

He looked into Shen's eyes, into the faint but stubborn light within them—the only thing that had kept her from collapsing for the past sixteen years: hope.

She always thought her daughter was dead, but she never stopped missing her.

If she knew her daughter was alive, she would do everything in her power to find her, get close to her, and hug her.

Su Zhentian thought, perhaps this is Ajiu—no, Su Jiuge, she is giving herself time to think.

She considered whether to acknowledge them, whether to return to this family, and whether to transform from a ruthless killer into the legitimate daughter of a noble family.

She will definitely come.

Su Zhentian looked at the deep night outside the door and silently counted in his mind.

The first day is over.

the next day.

The third day, October 26th, early morning.

Ajiu stood in front of the main gate of the Marquis of Dingyuan's residence once again.

She wasn't wearing her black outfit today; instead, she wore a dark blue cotton robe, and her hair was braided and hung down her back.

She did not carry a knife at her waist.

This was the first time in sixteen years that she went out without a knife.

It wasn't because she felt the Marquis's residence was safe, but because she didn't want Madam Shen to see the knife.

She didn't know why she had to consider that woman's feelings; she just didn't want to see tears streaming down those half-blind eyes anymore.

The door opened.

Uncle Fu opened the door.

When he saw Ajiu, he was stunned for a moment, and then his eyes reddened.

He opened his mouth, wanting to say, "Girl, you've come," but the sound got stuck in his throat and he couldn't utter it.

He simply stepped aside from the doorway and bowed deeply.

Ajiu walked past him and entered the Dingyuan Marquis's residence.

This time, no one led the way.

She walked past the screen wall, through the courtyard, and along the covered walkway to the main hall.

She had only been here once, but she remembered every road, every corner, and the location of every flower and tree.

An assassin's instinct: once a path has been taken, it will never be forgotten.

The doors to the main hall were open.

Su Zhentian stood in the center of the main hall, dressed in a formal black official robe, wearing a gauze hat and a jade belt, looking solemn and dignified.

Shen stood beside him, wearing a bright red jacket and a red-gold phoenix hairpin. She was made up, but it couldn't hide the bloodshot eyes and the tear stains on her cheeks that hadn't dried yet.

Su Chengen stood behind Su Zhentian, wearing a dark blue brocade robe, his face solemn.

Su Wan'er is not here.

Ajiu walked into the main hall and stood in front of Su Zhentian and Shen Shi.

The main hall was extremely quiet. The sandalwood incense from the incense burner rose gently, drawing faint, curved lines in the air.

Sunlight streamed in through the cracks in the window, illuminating the bluestone floor, Ah Jiu's dark blue cotton robe, and her pale face.

Ah Jiu said, "I've come to get my answer."

Su Zhentian looked at her and remained silent for a long time.

Then he took something out of his sleeve, held it with both hands, and handed it to Ajiu.

It is a family genealogy book.

The Su family genealogy book, with a blue cloth cover, worn edges, and yellowed pages, exudes the scent of ink and the aroma of time.

Su Zhentian opened the family genealogy, turned to a certain page, and turned that page towards Ajiu.

On that page, written in neat small regular script, was the name of the ninth generation eldest daughter, Su Jiuge, born on the ninth day of the twelfth lunar month of the first year of Yong'an.

Your name has never been erased.

Su Zhentian's voice was hoarse but firm.

"Sixteen years ago, on the day you were born, I wrote your name into the family genealogy. After you died—I thought you were dead—I didn't cross your name out. Because you are my daughter, whether you are alive or dead, you are the eldest legitimate daughter of the Marquis of Dingyuan's family."

Ajiu looked at the line of words on the family tree—Su Jiuge.

Three characters, written neatly and precisely, stroke by stroke.

That's her name.

It's not Ajiu, it's not Night Owl, it's her real name.

Her father named her on the day she was born, and the name was written into the family genealogy and preserved for sixteen years without ever being crossed out.

Su Jiuge.

She reached out and touched the three words.

The paper was rough, and the ink had dried completely. It felt slightly raised to the touch, as if it were engraved on the paper.

Her finger lingered on those three words for a moment, then withdrew.

"I have one more condition," Su Jiuge said.

This was the first time she had ever called herself by this name—in her heart.

"Go ahead," Su Zhentian said.

"Aunt Zhou, leave this to me."

Su Zhentian looked at her and remained silent for a moment.

"it is good."

Su Jiuge nodded and turned to walk towards the entrance of the main hall.

"Jiuge." Shen's voice came from behind, still hoarse and broken, but this time there was something else—no longer despair, but a careful, delicate touch, as if holding a hope that could be blown out by the wind at any moment.

Su Jiuge stopped.

"Will you...stay?" Mrs. Shen asked.

"Even just one meal?"

Su Jiuge remained silent for a long time.

"Okay," she said.

She didn't turn around.

But she heard Shen's suppressed sobs behind her, and Su Zhentian's deep, gentle voice saying, "Don't cry, the child is back."

Su Jiuge walked out of the main hall and stood under the corridor.

The sunlight shone on her face, on her pale, hard, expressionless face.

Her lips twitched slightly, something she herself couldn't quite explain.

It's like someone who has walked in darkness for sixteen years suddenly seeing a light shining in the distance.

She simply stood there, in the sunlight, under the eaves of the Marquis of Dingyuan's residence, listening to her mother's cries and her father's voice behind her, thinking—

Perhaps we could stay for a meal.