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Shen Mo's gaze fell once again on her face. "So, regarding the letter left by the master, what do you think, Madam? The phrase 'Xin Lian Qi Lu,' does it truly have any connection to you?"
Upon hearing this, Lady Lian's already pale complexion turned even more ashen, and her body trembled slightly with uncontrollable agitation. "I... I truly do not understand why the master would write such words! I have always held great respect for him and never harbored any ill intentions! This... this must be slander! Someone is trying to frame me!" Her reaction seemed to exceed normal sadness and grievance, displaying an unusual level of agitation.
Shen Mo chose not to press further on Lady Lian's overly emotional response, knowing that pushing too hard at this moment could backfire. He shifted the topic and inquired about the guest who had visited last night.
"What do you know about Mr. Gu Mingyuan?"
"Mr. Gu is the young master of Gu Yun Zhai in the southern part of the city and a well-known connoisseur of calligraphy and painting," Lady Lian replied, seemingly calming down a bit. "He was a close friend of the master, and they shared a common language in collecting and appreciating art, so they often met. Last night, it seems they were discussing an ancient inkstone—most likely the one the master recently acquired, the 'Mo Long Teng Yue.' According to the servants in the manor, they appeared to be quite engrossed in their conversation."
After bidding farewell to Lady Lian, Shen Mo's next appointment was with Wen Shaoqing, the only son of the Wen family.
When Wen Shaoqing was summoned to the front hall by a servant, he appeared somewhat disheveled and impatient, as if still recovering from a hangover. In his early twenties, he bore a resemblance to Wen Boyuan but had an air of unruliness and restlessness about him. Upon seeing Shen Mo, he lazily cupped his hands in greeting, his demeanor notably cold.
"Someone's dead; what more can we find out?" Wen Shaoqing began with a tone laced with irritation. "My father was obsessed with those worthless antiques and old books; who knows how many people he offended over them? Who can tell which enemy came knocking?"
Shen Mo observed him quietly before asking in a calm tone, "It seems that your father's unfortunate passing does not evoke much sadness in you?"
At this remark, Wen Shaoqing scoffed as if he had heard a joke. "Sadness? He just finished berating me for wanting to cut off my allowance and kick me out of the house! Should I really mourn for him? Besides, I had nothing to do with his death! Last night, I was at the most famous Drunken Immortal Pavilion in town with a bunch of friends drinking until dawn. The owner and staff there can all vouch for me!" He rushed through his explanation as if eager to clear himself of any suspicion.
"I assume you are aware that your father intended to revise his will?" Shen Mo pressed on.
Mentioning the will darkened Wen Shaoqing's expression immediately; a flicker of resentment crossed his eyes. "Hmph! I've heard! That old fool! I think he was bewitched by that vixen named Liu! She may act all gentle and kind-hearted, but she's incredibly scheming! Who knows if she colluded with some lover to get rid of him and seize the family fortune!" His hatred for his stepmother was almost openly displayed on his face.
"So what do you think about the letter left by your father?" Shen Mo continued.
"What nonsense is this letter?" Wen Shaoqing waved dismissively. "My father's handwriting is decent, but it's not impossible for someone to imitate it! I suspect that woman or that cunning Zhong Shu might have concocted some trickery—deliberately writing it ambiguously to frame someone else!" His tone dripped with malice and suspicion while also hinting at a possibility—the letter might indeed be forged.
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