Chapter 239 - 239 237 Already Confessed

Words : 1471 Updated : Oct 5th, 2025

239: Chapter 237: Already Confessed 239: Chapter 237: Already Confessed In the Study, the young scholar who used to sweep dust and clear ashes was no longer there. In just six days, the bookshelves were covered with a thin layer of dust, the edges of the books faintly yellowed, harboring a sense of antiquity. During the day, there used to be some poor and cold young boys and girls, who would come to this study amid laughter to seek knowledge. But these days, the study was so quiet that it exuded a sense of desolation, as silent as a grave. Perhaps because Mr. Meng had aged, he had grown somewhat idle, and without Ji Ting’s help at work, he even neglected to clear the spiderwebs in the corner of the room. At dawn, the winter snow began again. There were few pedestrians on the street, and when hastily passing by the study, they cast suspicious and unusual glances at Yun Rong and Baili An. They dared not look more, swiftly glancing once before withdrawing their gaze and continuing on their way with heads lowered. Baili An approached Mr. Meng, who was pruning branches by the window, and said politely in a soft voice, “Mr. Meng, I’ve imposed upon you these past few days.” The old master seemed a bit hard of hearing, which was quite normal for an elderly gentleman whose hands were speckled with age spots. He continued to hum a tune, his old hands trembling slightly as he trimmed the plants. Accidentally, the not-so-sharp scissors nicked a piece of skin on his fingertip, and dark red, somewhat blackish blood oozed thickly from the wound. Before the blood could drip onto the soil of the plants, the old man shakily sucked his finger twice. Baili An did not care whether the old man could hear him clearly or not, he took out a silver note from his breast pocket, placed it on the windowsill, and said, “I’ve imposed for quite a few days. Although Ji Ting doesn’t charge rent, ultimately, Mr. Meng, you are the true owner of this shop.” Mr. Meng, with his dim eyes, squinted at the brand-new silver note on the windowsill, his cloudy gaze emitting a layer of lifeless cyan. He rotated his eyeballs, pushed open his wrinkled eyelids a bit, and shook his head at Baili An. The old man shook his head but still took the brand-new silver note, without uttering a word. Baili An wasn’t in a good mood today and had no desire to continue reading. He said to Lady Yun Rong, who was still squatting in a small corner, “Lady Yun Rong, I’d like to return a bit earlier today, what about you?” As the Fourth Sword, who watched over books daily and waited for clues, of course, she wouldn’t leave the study so early. Baili An left the study quickly, but he didn’t return to the inn immediately. Instead, he went to the old woman’s Bashu noodle shop across the street and ordered two bowls of non-spicy hot soup noodles, then brought them back into the study. He placed one in front of Yun Rong, but did not receive even a slight response. Baili An smiled and gave the other bowl of hot soup noodles to Mr. Meng. It was cold in winter, and knowing that the old man’s hands and feet were stiff, Baili An unwrapped the lunchbox for him, set up the chopsticks and spoon, and carefully advised, “Teacher, it’s cold, make sure you eat meals on time, otherwise stomach cold can be very uncomfortable.” Mr. Meng, hunched over in front of the window, appeared quite lonely. Originally murky, his eyes seemed to clear a lot under the steam of the hot soup noodles. He did not touch the bowl of hot soup noodles in front of him, as if he could not hear Baili An’s words at all, quietly staring into the void, expressionless, humming an out-of-tune tune. As Baili An left the study for the second time, the slow voice of the old man behind him rose, like sand flowing in the ancient river of years, “It has been a long time since a child has bought me steaming fresh soup noodles.” He had run this bookshop for forty years, each day welcoming poor students who could not afford school, letting them read and study in his shop. Those children had no money, usually curling up amidst the crowd, taking advantage of his old age and naivety to read these books for free. Some saintly books were overly arcane and difficult to understand. Seeing the harsh conditions of these impoverished children, he not only didn’t complain about them reading for free, but he also patiently explained the mysteries within the classics to them. When the children saw his kind heart, they gradually started saving spare copper coins from home, pooling enough for a bowl of noodles, and every morning, they would bring a bowl of hot soup noodles to the old man. Thousands of books could not compare to a moment of joy; a simple meal could bring a lifetime of gratitude – a modest gift turned into joy. Gradually, the youngsters grew accustomed to accepting the old man’s kindness. His selflessness, taught during his free time, led most of these poor children to enter academies, becoming scholars versed in the classics, a remarkable achievement amidst their hardships. Those who achieved success reveled in opulence throughout the border city. Who still remembered, in the old city, in the old study, there was an old man still teaching by lamplight. For the students of the White Wood Academy in the border city, life was much better than that of the ordinary mortals in the city, but still far less than a janitor in the Inner City. They knew the old man was from White Wood Academy in the Inner City, and even though they had achieved glory, they did not want to return to that place, to face humiliation voluntarily. After all, the old man wouldn’t have less than what they did. And the few remaining, those who failed to achieve their academic aspirations, watched as others, protected by the academy, rose in fame with the spring breeze, while they remained poor and destitute. In comparison, they felt a gap and couldn’t help but blame the old man. “All were taught by you, all scrimped on their own food, gave the same amount of money, bought hot soup noodles for you every day.” “Why can others ascend to the heavens, while I suffer from hunger and cold?” “You are biased, you withhold teachings.” These young men, who felt injustice in their fate and in the old man, no longer wanted to save money every day to buy soup noodles. And for those who sincerely sought knowledge and were eager to repay the old man, being poor and unable to do more than afford a few green onions. Over time, in this old bookshop, it became rare to see a bowl of hot soup noodles brought in by lively youngsters. Baili An walked out of the study, the faint sound of slurping noodles came from the window. The old man’s low hum and singing finally came to a halt. Just after stepping out of the study, around the corner, Fang Geyu stood in a pure white crane-feathered robe, leaning against the wall with his sword, his voice, as always, arrogant, “You still come here every day.” Baili An said, “I won’t come tomorrow.” Fang Geyu was silent for a moment before adding, “Three nights ago, Meng Chengzhi was forced by the City Guard to fault and smashed into death against the royal stele in the Inner City.” Baili An’s expression showed no surprise, only softly acknowledging it before calmly asking, “To fault? Because of Ji Ting’s disappearance?” “Yes and no.” The snow swirled up by the wind was icy cold against the skin. Fang Geyu stepped under his Glazed Umbrella, speaking lightly, “It began with Lan Youdie issuing an arrest warrant. She had a close maid who disappeared three months ago. A few days ago, her body was found in the old well of a mountain residence in the Inner City. Afterward, in this border city, many young men and women have gone missing, including three siblings from the Ji family. The first to disappear was Ji Family’s second sister, then the third sister, and finally, Ji Ting. Lan Youdie followed this lead and eventually tracked it to Meng Chengzhi’s head. That night, three days ago, Meng Chengzhi was cornered in the Inner City by three thousand members of the City Guard, admitted his crimes, and was smashed to death against the royal stele.”

Chapter 239 - 239 237 Already Confessed

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