"It must have been Lao Fu..."

  "Who else could have done it? No one else in this world has that kind of skill. He never took any apprentices..."

  "People really are hard to judge..."

  "He doesn’t talk much usually, but who would have thought that he had so much malice hidden inside..."

  "People who like this kind of craft always have something wrong in their hearts..."

  "I don't see any issues between them normally, so how did it end up with someone being killed..."

  "Strange. If he really killed her, why would he let others know..."

  "It is strange. If he did kill her, why would he be so btant about it? It doesn't make sense..."

  ".........."

  Lao Fu sat quietly on the worn-out bed frame. On the floor beside him was a rge, chipped ceramic bowl, still tinged bck. Inside the bowl, there was a cornbread the size of a fist, marked with a deep bck five-fingered imprint. A small, thin mouse was perched on top, enjoying what it deemed to be a delicacy of the human world, with its front legs resting on the cornbread.

  Lao Fu moved slightly, and a harsh, unpleasant sound echoed as his hands and feet scraped against the iron, making him frown at the stiffness in his muscles.

  Lao Fu's hands were bound by a heavy iron lock, and a thick iron chain extended from the lock, connecting seamlessly with the iron cuffs on his feet. This was the prison—Lao Fu's first time in such a pce. The dim light in the cell made it impossible to tell whether it was day or night, but the cold iron bars clearly marked the distinction between the criminals and the innocent.

  There was a constant mp in the corner, its faint light reminding Lao Fu of the incense candles in the wooden house. But in the wooden house, the candles were lit for the dead, while here, the light was meant for the living. However, the living in this pce would soon become the dead. Lao Fu knew clearly that this was a death cell.

  How could Xue Qiuqiu have died in that coffin? Who killed her? Why was she killed? What method was used to kill her? What was the purpose behind it? And why frame him? How was it done? Most importantly, who else in this world besides him would have such a skill? What is the true identity of that old woman and those two young people? Why did the woman they brought disappear? Lao Fu couldn't figure it out. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make sense of the sequence of events.

  "Lao Fu, it's time for dinner!" A man, older and dressed in official robes, walked over.

  He was the prison guard, Zhang Bensan, and Lao Fu recognized him. His wife's clothes had been sewn by Lao Fu himself.

  Lao Fu shifted his legs but remained firmly seated on the broken bed, only raising his head slightly to look at Zhang Bensan.

  "Eh? You haven't eaten yet?" Zhang Bensan opened the iron door and handed a bowl of food identical to the one on the floor to Lao Fu. "At least eat something; even if you're going to die, die with a full stomach."

  Lao Fu looked at Zhang Bensan with a strange expression and said, "Am I going to die?"

  Will he die? Even Zhang Bensan didn't know how to answer Lao Fu's question. This was the death row; anyone who ended up here was destined for execution.

  Lao Fu realized that his question was redundant, so he took the bowl of food and silently began to eat. The meal had grown cold and carried a faint taste of bnd water, but Lao Fu's stomach had been growling incessantly, and he had no intention of offering the meal to the small, pitiful rat on the floor.

  Zhang Bensan nodded in satisfaction and said, "That's better. No matter what, you should eat." Though he understood the food was unpleasant, having something to eat was better than having nothing at all.

  Lao Fu y on the hard, broken bed, his eyes staring at the peeling wall above. He couldn't help but wonder how Xu Mama and Mo Bai would react if they knew about this. What about his son Fu Zhuo and that daughter-in-w, Chu Mengjun, who always seemed so unpleasant? After tonight, tomorrow would come, and he didn't know who would be the first to visit him. But no matter who it was, that was something for tomorrow. Lao Fu pulled the tattered bnket over himself. At that moment, he just wanted to sleep soundly.

  "Do you think it was Lao Fu?" Xu Mama dragged herself into Mo Bai's tea shed, sitting down in the creaky chair with a sour expression on her face.

  Mo Bai casually reached up to touch his rge, monkey-like ear, his feet already expertly pouring himself a cup of tea.

  "I'm talking to you!" Xu Mama's patience was wearing thin.

  “That bck ledger…” Mo Bai deliberately dragged out the st word.

  “The ledger's already with Lao Fu, isn't it?” Xu Mama couldn't make sense of what Mo Bai was trying to imply.

  "But Xue Qiuqiu gave it to Lao Fu just yesterday," Mo Bai gnced into the distance, his eyes growing more profound.

  Xu Mama's face turned as white as thick paper. She reached out to steady herself on the table, her voice trembling: "Could it be that Xue Qiuqiu... still... didn't escape? Now it's Lao Fu's turn?"

  Mo Bai didn′t respond. He picked up the tea from the table and took a small sip, this time using his hand.