Zhong Qi reeked of alcohol, and Song Ke frowned. The stench of liquor made him nauseous and pulled him out of his fantasies about the woman in the photograph, grounding him firmly in the harsh reality of Tang Town.

  Surprised, Song Ke asked, “Captain Zhong, what brings you here—?”

  Zhong Qi let out a drunken hiccup and replied, “Am I not allowed to come?”

  Song Ke quickly said, “Of course, you′re welcome! Please, come in.”

  Zhong Qi stepped into the painting studio with his mp in hand. As he entered, the thick stench in the air hit him. The overpowering smell accelerated the evaporation of alcohol in his body, and his mind began to clear.

  Pcing the oil mp on the table, Zhong Qi sat down heavily.

  Song Ke asked, “Captain Zhong, what brings you to my humble shop so te at night?”

  Zhong Qi frowned, visibly bothered by the stench in the room, just as Song Ke had been repelled by the reek of alcohol earlier. Enduring the discomfort, Zhong Qi spoke in a low voice, “Painter Song, I need to ask you a favor.”

  Song Ke replied, “Captain Zhong, you just need to say the word. If not for you, I wouldn't even be in Tang Town. Please, don't treat me like an outsider.”

  Zhong Qi let out a long sigh. “Without Wenxiu, how am I supposed to go on living?”

  Song Ke remained silent. He had no words to comfort Zhong Qi, nor did he know how to offer any soce. Besides, what puzzled him most was the contradiction—if Zhong Qi truly couldn't live without Shen Wenxiu, why had he allowed his family to throw her into the river to drown?

  Although Song Ke hadn't gone to Tang Creek to witness Shen Wenxiu's death, he knew she was gone. He also realized that the San Laizi had dug on the slopes of Wugong Ridge, now had a purpose. A woman who died in such a manner could never be buried in the Zhong family cemetery. She would rest in the wild burial grounds, a forsaken soul left without offerings or remembrance, even during Qingming.

  Zhong Qi said, “Painter Song, you've seen my wife, Shen Wenxiu. I want you to paint a portrait of her. She′s gone, and there′s no bringing her back, but I just want to keep a picture of her. When I die, I want it buried with me in my coffin.”

  Song Ke nodded.

  Zhong Qi continued, “Painter Song, please make sure no one in town knows about this. Here, we have a rule: people like Wenxiu, who died in such a manner, are not allowed to leave behind portraits in this world.”

  Song Ke nodded again. At that moment, an image fshed through his mind—Shen Wenxiu, during her public humiliation, walking past his shop, lifting her head to look at him. Her gaze, like a bolt of lightning, struck his memory. A shiver ran through him, and he suddenly felt a chill.

  Zhong Qi spoke with an air of sorrow.

  Song Ke couldn't tell if Zhong Qi's grief was genuine or not, but deep down, he chose to believe it was real.

  Zhong Qi stood up, unable to endure the suffocating stench any longer. Though he had pnned to say much more to Song Ke, now he found himself at a loss for words. He even forgot to take the small ntern he had brought, leaving it on the table in the shop. Song Ke called out to remind him, but Zhong Qi seemed not to hear.

  Song Ke watched as Zhong Qi walked away, then closed the door to his shop.

  After stepping onto the streets of Tang Town, Zhong Qi gulped in the fresh air like a fish suddenly finding its way to living waters after nguishing in stagnant death. The freshness soothed his entire being. His hand instinctively gripped the grip of his Mauser pistol. With the alcohol dissipated, his mind was now razor-sharp. At this time, he wasn't thinking about Shen Wenxiu, who had sunk to the bottom of the creek, but about his sworn enemy, You Wuqiang.

  Two days ago, You Wuqiang wouldn't have qualified as his enemy, but now, without a doubt, he was. You Wuqiang had become Zhong Qi's mortal foe, his lifelong nightmare.

  Zhong Qi drew the Mauser from its holster.

  He felt sure that You Wuqiang hadn't fled Tang Town. Perhaps right now, Wuqiang was hiding in some shadowy corner beyond his sight, watching Zhong Qi's every move under the dim glow of the night. Zhong Qi felt a chill creep through him, as if he could hear Wuqiang's heavy breathing.

  Suddenly, he heard a dog whimpering.

  In Tang Town, even children as young as San Laizi knew the saying: when a dog whimpers in the night, unable to bark, it must have seen a ghost. The sound sent goosebumps racing over Zhong Qi's skin.

  He turned to look back. The whimper had come from the entrance of the painter's shop. Zhong Qi spotted a white shadow drifting across the street. A cold sweat broke out on the back of his head.

  Without thinking, he bolted in the direction of Emperor Alley. His hurried footsteps echoed through the town, striking fear into those who were still awake to hear them.

  Still that night, another person entered Song Ke's painting studio. This person did not knock; he climbed in through the back window of the shop. At that moment, Song Ke was staring bnkly at the paper on his easel, trying to paint a beautiful portrait of Shen Wenxiu. However, all that came to his mind was the tortured face of Shen Wenxiu. The oil mp flickered, like a kind of emotion.

  Song Ke decided to stay up all night to finish painting Shen Wenxiu's portrait. It was his first commission since arriving in Tang Town, or perhaps it was more than just a simple commission; the st look Shen Wenxiu gave him had indeed moved him. Song Ke also pced a bottle of kerosene next to the oil mp, ready to refill it at any moment. As long as the small oil mp didn't go out, he wouldn't be disturbed by whatever appeared in the darkness. This was his simple-minded thought.

  Song Ke's hand, holding the charcoal pencil, trembled several times as he tried to make the first stroke on the paper, but each time it moved away.

  The person who climbed in through the back window gently made their way up the old wooden stairs to the attic. They stood silently behind Song Ke like a ghost, and the infatuated Song Ke didn't even notice.

  The man hoarsely said, "Painter Song—"

  Song Ke was startled and stood up abruptly, turning around to see You Wuqiang, who was pale and drenched. Song Ke excimed in shock, "You didn't leave?"

  You Wuqiang hoarsely replied, "Painter Song, I will leave Tang Town after I finish a task, but I need your help with this task."

  Song Ke didn't dare to meet You Wuqiang's gaze; there was a fierce intensity in You Wuqiang's eyes. Song Ke seemingly calmly said, "Are you going to kill Zhong Qi before leaving? If so, I can't help you with that."

  You Wuqiang sneered and said, "Killing Zhong Qi is my own business, and it has nothing to do with you. If I asked you to help me kill Zhong Qi, that would be an insult to me. I want you to come with me."

  Song Ke said, "Where to?"

  You Wuqiang said, "I'll go first and wait for you by the Tang Creek."

  Song Ke was speechless.

  You Wuqiang firmly told Song Ke, "Master Song, I know you will come." After saying that, You Wuqiang went downstairs. By the time Song Ke came down, You Wuqiang had already disappeared. Song Ke hesitated for a moment; despite feeling a bit fearful, he decided to go meet him.