Siheyuan: tomb robbing? I am serious about hunting.

Chapter 1141 I don’t know

"Did you hear that? A woman is crying." Chen Jianjun asked the villagers next to him. The villagers stopped what they were doing, and the expressions on their faces instantly became solemn. Uncle Wang frowned and glanced in the direction of the old locust tree: "It came from the village, it seems to be from the direction of the old locust tree." Chen Jianjun was panicking. He remembered what Lao Zhao said, that the ghost of Lao Zhou's wife was looking for her baby. Could it be that the crying sound was from Lao Zhou's wife? He quickened the work in his hands, wanting to finish harvesting the millet and return to the village quickly, but the more anxious he was, the more mistakes he made, and the sickle almost cut his hand again. Just as he stood up and wanted to wipe the sweat off his face, he suddenly saw a shadow standing on the other side of the ridge. The shadow was very tall, wearing a blue cloth shirt, with long hair that hung down to his shoulders, with his back to him, standing there motionless, like a statue. Chen Jianjun's heart skipped a beat, and his heart instantly rose to his throat. He recalled what Li Jianguo had said the previous night. The educated youth had seen the woman in a blue shirt picking up hair under the locust tree. Wasn't that the shadow before him wearing the same blue shirt? "Who is it? What are you doing there?" Chen Jianjun called out, his voice trembling slightly. But the shadow seemed not to hear him, and didn't react at all. After a while, it slowly and leisurely walked towards the old locust tree. Its footsteps were so light, it made no sound as it walked along the dirt road, as if floating, its feet seemingly not touching the ground. Chen Jianjun wanted to catch up to see what was happening, but his legs felt like lead, and he couldn't move. He could only watch helplessly as the shadow retreated further and further, finally disappearing at the end of the ridge. "Stop looking, hurry up!" Uncle Wang, who was standing next to him, suddenly pulled him aside, his voice a hint of urgency. "That's the shadow of Old Zhou's wife. She comes out every year at this time, looking for her child! If you keep watching, she'll get you!" Uncle Wang pulled Chen Jianjun along, and they ran towards the village with the other villagers. He glanced back at the ridge of the field. The shadow had disappeared, but the woman's cries were still floating in the wind, making his heart tighten. When they ran back to the village, it was already dark. Every household in the village had lit a kerosene lamp. The dim light shone through the windows, casting blurry spots of light on the dirt road. Chen Jianjun was panting and was about to go back to his adobe house when he saw the lights on in the yard and a blurry shadow reflected on the window, as if someone was walking around in the house. He wondered, Li Jianguo said he was going to the commune to do some work in the afternoon, and he still hadn't returned. Who would be in the house? Could it be another educated youth? But the other educated youth lived in the room next door, and they wouldn't enter his house without his permission. Chen Jianjun slowed down his pace, walked quietly to the door, and looked inside through the crack. The kerosene lamp in the house was placed on the table, and the dim light illuminated half of the room. He saw the quilt on the kang had been tossed about, the pillow thrown to the floor, and the enamel pot on the table had fallen to the ground, its rim chipped and cracked, spilling the water inside, forming a puddle on the floor. Even more alarming was the discovery that the back window had been thrown open at some point, letting in the wind, carrying the lingering scent of an old locust tree and a faint, rouge-like fragrance. It was a distinct aroma, not the pancreas used by the village women, but a rich, almost dizzying one. Chen Jianjun's heart leaped into his throat. He gently pushed open the door and entered. The room was silent, devoid of any sound save the rustling of the wind. He carefully circled the room with the hoe by the door, finding no one. Just as he breathed a sigh of relief, his eyes fell on the edge of the kang, and he gasped, dropping the hoe to the ground with a clang. On the edge of the kang lay a pair of tiny cloth shoes with red soles and a small peach blossom embroidered on the upper. The color was so vibrant it looked freshly applied. The shoes were tiny, barely the size of a palm, clearly the kind of shoes only a newborn would wear. Next to them lay a strand of long, jet-black hair, identical to the one he'd seen under the locust tree that morning—black and shiny, tangled in a thin thread. Chen Jianjun trembled with fear. He stared at the tiny cloth shoes and the long hair, his mind blank. Who had put them there? Could it be the ghost of Old Zhou's wife? He recalled the shadow of the woman in the blue cloth shirt he'd seen on the ridge that afternoon, the woman's cries. A chill shot from the soles of his feet to his head, leaving him unable to stand. He quickly picked up the hoe from the ground and retreated to the door, watching the room warily. But there was no sound, only the wind blowing in through the back window, ruffling the quilt on the kang with a rustling sound. The smell of rouge became stronger and stronger, making people feel uneasy. Chen Jianjun didn't dare to stay any longer, so he quickly left the house, locked the door, and then leaned against the door frame, gasping for breath. He looked up at the old locust tree. The branches of the locust tree were swaying in the moonlight, as if countless pairs of eyes were staring at him, making him feel uncomfortable. He didn't know what these small cloth shoes and this long hair meant, let alone what strange things would happen next. The snow in the Forbidden City lasted longer than in previous years. Goose-feather-like snowflakes fell from the lead-gray sky, covering the towering palace walls and the upturned palace buildings with a thick layer of silver. Against the backdrop of white snow, the glazed tiles of the corner tower lost their former gilded splendor, instead acquiring a touch of simple elegance. The cold wind rustled the bronze bells hanging from the eaves, sending a crisp, ding-ding-ding sound that echoed through the empty palace grounds, yet failed to dispel the chilling atmosphere. The plum trees in the Imperial Garden were in full bloom, thousands of red plum blossoms proudly standing amidst the white snow. Their petals were ablaze with color, and the snowflakes clung to the branches, creating a breathtaking contrast of red and white. But Prince Jing, Xiao Che, had no desire to admire the scene. He wore a dark dragon robe, a jade belt at his waist. From the belt hung a jade pendant of superb quality, a token of his father's love from the late emperor. The hem of the robe was embroidered with a four-clawed golden dragon, the pattern vivid and lifelike, swaying slightly with his movements, a testament to the dignity of a member of the royal family. But at this moment, this luxurious python robe was stained with a glaring scarlet. The blood kept oozing out from his chest, winding down along the lines of the fabric, dripping onto the snow at his feet, instantly melting a small piece of snow, leaving behind dark marks. Just half an hour ago, Crown Prince Xiao Jing was attacked by an unknown assassin while admiring plum blossoms in the plum forest. The assassin was dressed in black, with a mask covering his face, holding a short arrow dipped in poison, aiming directly at the crown prince. The princes and ministers present at the time were all in a panic, but Xiao Che was the only one who reacted the fastest. He almost instinctively threw himself in front of the crown prince and blocked the fatal arrow with his body. The poisonous arrow penetrated his heart guard and pierced deeply into his chest. The intense pain instantly swept through his body, making his eyes go black and almost fainting. "Your Highness! How are you, Your Highness?"