Volume One: The Untraceable Journey of Paper Leaves Chapter Thirty-Nine: The Strange Scar

Gu Qinghan's delicate brows furrowed slightly in hesitation, yet she still spoke to Yang Ning, "Ning'er, listen to the madam and take off your upper garment." With graceful steps, she approached to help Yang Ning remove his coat.

"Leave. Let him stay here alone." The madam spoke again, not turning her head, yet as if she had eyes at the back of her skull, she was keenly aware of everything happening behind her.

A trace of surprise flickered across Gu Qinghan's beautiful eyes, but she still responded respectfully, "Yes!" She winked at Yang Ning, intending to remind him to be obedient. Yet, to Yang Ning, this elegant woman seemed rather playful and charming. He smiled slightly, and only after Gu Qinghan had left did he remove his mourning clothes and then his upper garment.

"Kneel!" The madam's words were concise.

Yang Ning heard the old woman's voice, aged and icy, and felt a surge of irritation. He cursed inwardly, uncertain what the old lady was up to, but knelt beside her.

Once Yang Ning knelt, the madam slowly turned around. Yang Ning was startled upon seeing her face: it was wrinkled and extraordinarily aged, appearing as though she were seventy or eighty years old. Her skin was shriveled, which did not surprise Yang Ning. What shocked him were her eyes.

The madam's eyes were slightly open, but there were no pupils—only a milky whiteness in both eyes. Yang Ning instantly realized that the madam of the Marquis of Brocade Robes' household was blind.

The madam lifted a withered hand and reached for Yang Ning's face. Her hand was so scrawny that it looked like a chicken's claw, skin wrapped tightly around bone, which made Yang Ning feel a bit disgusted.

She touched his face, then slowly moved downward, tracing along his cheek to Yang Ning's left shoulder.

Yang Ning felt that her hand lacked warmth, almost cold, and his hairs stood on end.

Her hand paused on Yang Ning's shoulder and suddenly commanded, "Turn around!"

Yang Ning, inwardly smoldering, did not understand what the old lady intended, but knew her status in the Marquis' household was extraordinary. If he angered her, it would surely bring him trouble. He figured turning away spared him from seeing her aged and frightening face, so he turned. The madam's hand again found Yang Ning's left shoulder and then slowly traced down his back.

Soon, her hand stopped at a certain spot, gently caressing it. Yang Ning suddenly felt an odd sensation—he realized there was a scar on his back.

The place she touched was precisely where that scar lay.

At last, Yang Ning understood why the madam had asked him to remove his clothes and why she had felt along his shoulder. If his guess was correct, it was all for the scar beneath his left shoulder.

He was deeply shocked.

Since his soul had inhabited this body, Yang Ning had become familiar with its appearance and stature, but he had paid little attention to scars.

He had not noticed the scar beneath his left shoulder until the madam touched it.

If the madam was truly searching for this scar, how did she know of it when even Yang Ning himself had not noticed? Could it be that the late heir, too, had a scar beneath his left shoulder?

If so, it was beyond belief.

Though the two looked almost identical, their identities and statuses were worlds apart; their bodies could never be exactly the same. Not to mention the differences in skin texture and finger length, which must surely differ.

For two such people to have identical scars in the same place was pure fantasy, utterly unimaginable.

He was shaken to his core as the madam withdrew her withered hand. Her voice softened slightly, "Your father has passed. He was a good son of the Qi family, never bringing shame to the family nor to the Marquis of Brocade Robes. From now on, you must protect the name of the Marquis."

"I..." Yang Ning opened his mouth but could not continue.

"Go on. You're home now. First, see to your father's funeral." The madam's shriveled old face betrayed no expression. She turned toward the Buddha statue, pressed her palms together, a string of prayer beads in her hands, and said nothing more.

Yang Ning felt both astonished and apprehensive.

He was clever, and the madam's actions had made things clear: though blind, her mind was sharp. Touching his face was to verify its shape; as the heir Qi Ning was her own grandson, she would be intimately familiar with his features.

Luckily, their face shapes were exactly alike, so the madam had no cause for suspicion. Despite the difference in skin texture, she would attribute it to the hardships Qi Ning had undergone while away. Yang Ning's skin was darker than Qi Ning's, but as all the household had seen him at the memorial hall and none suspected, it was clear they believed the darker tone was due to time spent outside.

The madam's final touch to the scar must have been the crucial confirmation. Yang Ning was sure that the scar on his back was extraordinary. He dreaded what would have happened had he not had it beneath his left shoulder.

The Marquis of Brocade Robes was a second-rank military general—a formidable figure in the Southern Chu Kingdom. Even Duan Canghai, a powerful character, was merely a household guard. If the madam had uncovered Yang Ning's impersonation, he doubted he would have left the Marquis' household alive.

Blind yet sharp-minded, the madam prompted Yang Ning to quickly don his clothes and flee from this place of uncertainty. The Buddha hall was already eerie enough, and combined with the fearsome old woman, Yang Ning was loath to linger another moment.

Upon leaving, he found Gu Qinghan waiting in the courtyard beneath the golden-threaded bodhi tree, graceful and beautiful, gazing dreamily at the vines hanging from the walls.

Hearing movement, Gu Qinghan turned and saw Yang Ning approaching. She went to meet him, lowering her voice, "Ning'er, you didn't upset the madam, did you?"

Yang Ning shook his head but, wanting to test his judgment, deliberately said, "The madam... grandmother..." He feigned confusion, as if unsure how to address the old lady. Gu Qinghan, seeing his stammering, assumed he was frightened by the madam, and said softly, "Your grandmother has always been like this. She cares for you deeply—don't overthink."

Yang Ning hurriedly said, "Grandmother looked at my shoulder."

"Oh?" Gu Qinghan replied, "She must have been looking at the flower on your shoulder, right?" Her eyes shifted gently, her voice tender, "Grandmother misses you and wants to be close. It's nothing more. Ning'er, I need to go in and speak with the madam. You should return to the memorial hall and keep vigil, alright?"

Yang Ning realized Gu Qinghan knew about the scar beneath his shoulder. From her words, it seemed the scar was shaped like a flower, though he didn't know what kind. But it confirmed his suspicions: the madam was verifying the presence of the scar.

This revelation made him even more uneasy. His body truly was identical to the deceased heir, with a scar in the same place, and even the shape matched. Had there been the slightest difference, the madam would have spotted it, and he would not have escaped so easily.

What had been mere speculation was now a confirmed oddity affecting him directly. Yang Ning was momentarily dazed, unable to unravel the mystery.

Gu Qinghan, seeing Yang Ning in a state of confusion, seemed accustomed to it. Her lovely face moved closer, her voice gentle, "Ning'er, what are you thinking about?"

Yang Ning snapped back to himself, seeing Gu Qinghan's beautiful face close at hand, full of concern. He could now see clearly her exquisite features, her skin as smooth as snow, her lips unadorned with rouge yet still rosy and enticing, like ripe cherries that tempted one to take a bite.

His heart fluttered, but he knew that cherry was absolutely forbidden. He shook his head, "No... nothing."

"Then head to the memorial hall," Gu Qinghan said softly. "I'll go see the madam." She smiled gently and, graceful as ever, went back into the house.

She had always been gentle and caring toward Yang Ning, so different from her frosty demeanor in the memorial hall before others.

Yang Ning left the courtyard, retracing his steps, his mind still occupied with the scar on his shoulder, eager to find a mirror to see what it actually was.

Suddenly, he thought of Xiao Die. Now that he was in the capital, she must have arrived as well, yet he did not know where she was. To find her, he would first need to discover which escort agency had brought her to the city. Now, impersonating the Marquis' heir, he wondered if he could leverage the household's influence to investigate.

That escort agency was involved in the vile business of trafficking people, backed by powerful interests. Even nobles would not openly support such activities. The agency would do everything to conceal the truth and not easily reveal any clues. Even if he used the Marquis' power, it might not yield swift results.

Yang Ning was certain of one thing: the Marquis was not only a noble but also a second-rank military general. With such status, the household's influence, both visible and hidden, would be considerable.

Yet, what he had seen so far was merely the tip of the iceberg. It would take time to learn which resources could be used.

He walked and mused, unconsciously arriving at a pond. The Marquis' residence was full of pavilions and towers, with many pools and ponds. This particular pond was one of the larger ones, with a rockery nearby. Yang Ning saw Duan Canghai sitting on a stone by the rockery, leaning against it, holding a wine flask.

As Yang Ning approached, the scent of wine grew strong. Duan Canghai's face was flushed red, clearly from drinking.

"This fellow must be feeling aggrieved after what happened in the memorial hall today, with nowhere to vent, so he's hiding here drinking to drown his sorrows," Yang Ning sighed inwardly. Earlier, when the third elder led others to challenge Gu Qinghan, Steward Qiu remained silent, but Duan Canghai had stepped forward, showing he was indeed a man of passion.

Duan Canghai, leaning against the rockery, his eyes half closed, muttered incoherently. Yang Ning approached and gently tapped Duan Canghai's leg with his toe. Duan Canghai waved his hand, cursing, "Get lost! Nobody bother me—I'm not someone to be trifled with..."

"Duan Canghai, what are you doing?" Yang Ning coughed. "Who are you telling to get lost?"

Duan Canghai was startled by the voice, opened his eyes wide, and saw Yang Ning standing before him. He hurriedly stood up, swaying slightly, "Heir... young master, it's you. I...!" Noticing the wine flask in his hand, he forced a smile, "I was just... just having a few sips..."

Now dusk was falling. Yang Ning glanced at the sky, then sat down heavily on a smooth stone beside him and asked, "Was it today’s grievances that drove you to drink here? Don’t you know, drawing your sword to cut water only makes it flow faster, and drinking to drown sorrow only deepens it?"