The word “die” pierced deeply into Shi Yuxing’s eyes. Who had left this note? Was it someone calling for help to whoever found it? Before he could think further, Gu Lingzhou’s voice came through—with a slight hoarseness, as if he’d swallowed a piece of rusted metal, flowing into his ears.
“It’s my mother’s handwriting.” His voice was soft, yet Shi Yuxing felt that words could be so deafening.
His dark, heavy pupils trembled. Shock and fear continuously spilled out, turning his eyes moist. A drop of liquid fell, soaking into the floor like a burst of fireworks—here one moment, gone the next.
Shi Yuxing said nothing, just stared blankly at that frayed piece of paper. It was written by Gu Lingzhou’s mother. So—she had known very early on that she might die. She might have even known that the one who wanted to harm her was Kolia.
Then what did this string of numbers mean?
Gu Lingzhou’s grip on the paper tightened, as if trying to press a dent into it. His breathing was heavy, his gaze fixed on those familiar characters. The emotions inside him churned more violently than a tsunami. It was his mother’s handwriting. She had a habit of writing the lower half of the character “可” like a connected “3”—because that was how she wrote Grandmother’s name. And even after an exclamation mark, she would still habitually add a dot. He had been her son for eighteen years—there was absolutely no mistaking it.
The cold harshness of the alpha’s brows and eyes settled deep. A chill enveloped his entire being. A single tear trail looked no different from a splatter of blood—chilling to the bone.
Shi Yuxing saw him remain silent for a long time and glanced around. Though the tea room had no surveillance cameras, they were still within the Gu household, under Grandmother’s watch—there was no guarantee that walls didn’t have ears. Gu Lingzhou’s mother had placed it here, likely precisely because she’d counted on there being no cameras. She was clever. She knew most people wouldn’t take apart a photo frame to remove the picture.
If he hadn’t accidentally stumbled upon it, perhaps no one would ever have known that a mother had once cried for help here.
Shi Yuxing spoke up awkwardly: “Should we keep searching? How many more frames haven’t you gone through?”
Gu Lingzhou finally looked up. He carefully and gently placed the note bearing his mother’s handwriting into his pocket, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, his voice like a leaky bellows: “Alright.”
“Then let’s finish going through the frames, then go home.”
Gu Lingzhou nodded in agreement. The two of them set aside their emotions, determined to uncover the truth no matter what. Shi Yuxing steadied himself, checking each frame one by one, thinking to himself: that note was placed there by Gu Lingzhou’s mother, and that medical receipt for Chu Ke was probably also placed by her. If they could find any more clues, they might be able to lock down more information about Gu Lingzhou’s mother.
Unfortunately, after going through every single photo frame, apart from that initial note, they found nothing.
Shi Yuxing looked at the alpha who was a head taller than him and patted Gu Lingzhou’s shoulder in consolation. “Let’s go.”
…
Two slices of cucumber covered her cheeks, white viscous liquid smeared across her forehead. Kolia had removed all her jewelry. Her eyes were closed as she enjoyed the masseuse’s touch. Meanwhile, the butler stepped forward to report: “Madam, they stayed in the room for another thirteen minutes after you left. They left the estate at 9:53 AM.”
The woman lying on the beauty chair raised her hand and waved it. “Did you hear what they were saying inside?”
“…It seemed they were discussing the young master’s childhood photos.” The butler stood erect, his monocle wedged against his eye socket.
Kolia lowered her hand, her lips moving. “Noted. Wake me when it’s time.” The next second, white cream covered her mouth.
The tiles gleamed, wiped clean by the cloth strips, white and pristine as new. The young alpha, playing the role of a housekeeper, diligently wielded the mop. Suddenly, the electronic chime of a fingerprint unlock echoed through the house. His hand paused, and he whipped his head toward the door, joy rippling through his eyes. “You’re back so soon? I thought you’d be gone much longer.” Xiao Zhou saw the door push open, dropped the mop, and came pattering over in his slippers.
The silence of the two at the door made Xiao Zhou uneasy. “What’s wrong? It’s okay if you didn’t find anything. Wifey, clues aren’t something you find that quickly. Even the police take ten days to half a month on some cases. We’re not professionals. If we didn’t find anything this time, I’ll go with you next time.”
Shi Yuxing’s complicated gaze carried a trace of helplessness, but a smile crept into his voice as he said: “Only you know how to talk. Where’s Da Ling?”
“He said we were almost out of soy sauce and went out.”
Shi Yuxing frowned. “Didn’t I tell you two to try not to go out? It’s dangerous out there.” Only after saying this did he vaguely realize—he sounded like the witch keeping the princess locked in a tower. “I’m not restricting your freedom. I’m just afraid you’ll both be seen at the same time and photographed—that would be a huge hassle.”
Xiao Zhou understood what he meant. “He bundled up really tightly when he went out. There won’t be any problems.”
Gu Lingzhou closed the door and bent down to pick out Shi Yuxing’s slippers for him. “Were you hiding them like this before too?”
Shi Yuxing’s spine went cold. “Ahaha…” This was too terrifying. He needed to change the subject to cover this up. But just as he opened his mouth, Gu Lingzhou spoke first: “What do you want for lunch? I’ll make it for you.”
Was this him offering a way out?
Shi Yuxing let out a breath of relief and didn’t dare to be too picky with his words. “Just make whatever you have on hand.” Anyway, there was no shiitake mushrooms in the house—which he hated.
Gu Lingzhou closed the kitchen door. Almost as soon as the “sizzling” sound of oil in the wok started, the door chimed with a notification. Da Ling, aside from soy sauce and some other seasonings, was also carrying a large bag of fresh produce. Crystal clear droplets still clung to the glossy cabbage leaves.
Shi Yuxing happened to want to see what Gu Lingzhou was making and followed Da Ling into the kitchen. Unexpectedly, the moment he opened the door, he was amused by the head chef’s ridiculous appearance. Gu Lingzhou was wearing a transparent face shield, a cow-print apron, and a pair of yellow rubber gloves on both hands—covering every part he could. The second before Shi Yuxing entered, this very person had just poured beaten eggs into the pan, standing as far away as physically possible, looking like a little kid setting off firecrackers, terrified it might explode in his face the next second.
“Pfft—” Shi Yuxing turned his head, unable to hold back his laughter. Gu Lingzhou immediately straightened up, holding his spatula as he turned to look at them. Da Ling walked straight to the stove, turned on the range hood, then went to the sink and took out the vegetables to wash. “At least you were smart enough to open the window.”
Shi Yuxing looked him up and down, teasing him: “Since when is the General afraid of splattering oil?”
Xiao Zhou chimed in with a sarcastic jab: “He said if you saw oil splatter on his hands, you’d feel bad~”
Seeing the slight flush on Gu Lingzhou’s earlobes, Shi Yuxing squinted his eyes, then pointed toward the pan. “If you don’t flip it soon, the green peppers will burn.” Only then did Gu Lingzhou frantically turn back to his spatula. Shi Yuxing stood at the side, clearly not done enjoying the show at Gu Lingzhou’s expense.
Had this guy been fully decked out in gear like this every day when making those sweet and sour pork tenderloins?
The eggs in the pan, unsurprisingly, ended up overcooked. Da Ling couldn’t stand it anymore and reached over to turn off the burner. “If you keep stir-frying this, the only solution for this dish is the trash can.”
Da Ling directed, Gu Lingzhou wielded the spatula, and Xiao Zhou did the chopping. Only Shi Yuxing had nothing to do—he just had to wait for the meal. Leaning against the wall, Shi Yuxing was holding an ice cream he’d just taken from the fridge. He contentedly thought—if neither of these two Gu Lingzhous could go back, that wouldn’t be so bad either.
“Yuxing, we’re about to eat. Go easy on the ice cream. The weather’s cold—eating too much is bad for you.” Da Ling had taken over the hot pan and looked up briefly. Shi Yuxing bit down on his spoon, straightened up from the wall, and smacked his lips. Was he going to get nagged at too?
Several dishes were brought to the table. The first bites all went to Shi Yuxing—his bowl was piled high, as if they were afraid he wouldn’t get enough to eat.
Aside from that dish of scrambled eggs with green peppers that was nearly destined for the trash, today’s meal was otherwise a success. Shi Yuxing took an extra couple of bites of the braised cabbage. “After you finish eating, Gu Lingzhou and I need to tell you two about what we found at the Old Mansion.”
·
Sofa meeting. Shi Yuxing was once again seated in that single “throne” chair.
“We went through every photo frame and only found this one note in the end.” Gu Lingzhou took out that yellowed piece of paper from his pocket, as if he’d just pulled it from the back of the frame.
Xiao Zhou leaned in, and instantly gasped: “This is Mom’s handwriting!” Xiao Zhou’s expression was exactly the same as Gu Lingzhou’s when he’d first seen the note—laced with fear. Even Da Ling, always calm and collected, now had ripples stirring in his pupils, his eyes gradually turning red.
Shi Yuxing spoke: “Our top priority is to figure out what message Mom left behind, what exactly Grandmother did, and what ‘120930n’ means. Do any of you have any leads?”
The three alphas stared at the note their mother had left behind. The silence was finally broken by one of them.
“September 30th, 2012…”
Shi Yuxing frowned, disagreeing. “Probably not. 2012 in this century—almost sixty years ago, that’s too far back… I’m wondering if this ‘n’ might be incomplete?”
Xiao Zhou shook his head. “She liked to add a dot at the end of every sentence.” Shi Yuxing took the note and looked—sure enough, both sentences had a dot after them. He finally understood why Gu Lingzhou could immediately recognize his mother’s handwriting. This habit was indeed memorable—and there was also a heavy pause after the exclamation mark, likely a personal writing quirk.
At that moment, Gu Lingzhou spoke up: “That thing about Chu Ke was probably also placed by her. Yuxing told me on the way back—the two photo frames were right next to each other.”
The air fell silent again. Everyone was thinking, trying to find a crack in the mystery.
Assuming that at that time, Gu Lingzhou’s mother had discovered Grandmother’s secret—or perhaps discovered the secret about Chu Ke—and knew she would be silenced, that she was heading toward an inevitable death, then she must have been absolutely desperate. For someone in power in a family like the Gus, killing a person was far too simple. Even if that person was their own daughter-in-law, they could be eliminated without a trace.
But aside from her, Gu Lingzhou’s father had also died—Kolia’s own biological son. Was she really that ruthless, to silence even her own child?
The thoughts entangling in his mind were like an unravelable ball of yarn-the more he tried to untangle it, the messier and more tangled it became.
Shi Yuxing lowered his gaze, the thin piece of paper pinched between his fingers. He carefully scrutinized every digit on it, trying to find any clue.
No one knew how long had passed—maybe the clock hands had gone around several times. Sunlight had crawled from the floor onto his body, seeping into the ink on the paper. Something was sprouting inside him like bamboo shoots after rain.
“I know! I know what it means!”
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