After Transmigrating, My Younger Brother Always Tries to Seduce Me - Chapter 4

Zhu Zhenzhen turned to look around. It was nearly midnight, and only a few people remained in the inn’s lobby, none of them facing their direction. She couldn’t help but wonder if she had imagined the voice.

She glanced down at Song Heng and met his puzzled gaze. He had clearly heard it too, yet the innkeeper seemed completely oblivious.

Zhu Zhenzhen remained suspicious but had no time to dwell on who might be playing tricks.

She leaned closer to the innkeeper, winking conspiratorially as she discreetly slipped a silver hairpin into his hand.

The innkeeper’s face clouded with reluctance. This… you understand, madam. Without a Pass Permit, we absolutely cannot accommodate you. Perhaps you should try another inn.

The inn door slammed shut in their faces once more.

This was the fifteenth inn they had tried. Zhu Zhenzhen had been dragging Song Heng from one establishment to another all day, from dawn till moonlit night, yet not a single one dared to take them in.

Zhu Zhenzhen sighed. Heng, let’s just find a dilapidated temple to sleep in tonight. It’s a few more miles, but we’ll grit our teeth and get through it.

Song Heng ……

In the deep, quiet night, the wind rustled the lanterns under the eaves, bringing a sense of desolation.

Most shops were closed, with only a few remaining open, mostly brothels.

Zhu Zhenzhen sighed. If she weren’t traveling with a young boy and couldn’t lead him astray, she would have rented a private room without hesitation.

The singing and chattering women and intoxicating fragrances would have been a feast for the senses. She could have indulged in the warmth of embracing women on either side before drifting off to a blissful sleep—how utterly satisfying that would have been!

Zhu Zhenzhen forced her gaze away and looked up at the sky. For others, transmigrating with a golden finger or opening a dimensional portal seemed effortless, like snapping their fingers. But for her, it was a catastrophic start one life, one child, and a perilous journey across the world.

Her heart ached.

Suddenly, Zhu Zhenzhen felt a tug on her sleeve and heard Song Heng’s deliberately hushed voice.

Sister, I just saw someone dressed entirely in black enter that inn. They haven’t come out yet.

Following Song Heng’s pointed finger, she saw an inn still open for business. Its large signboard boldly proclaimed Sun and Moon Inn in sweeping characters.

How black? Zhu Zhenzhen asked casually. Is it the kind of pitch-black that makes them look like a bad guy, or the kind of pitch-black that makes them look like a good guy?

Song Heng choked, rolling his eyes slightly, but continued to coax her, Sister, let’s just take a look inside. They’re still open this late, so they must be kind-hearted, not wanting travelers to sleep out in the cold. He must be a great philanthropist.

Zhu Zhenzhen was already in a zombie-like state, but Song Heng dragged her inside by force.

Before the innkeeper could speak, Zhu Zhenzhen blurted out, A room. Long-term stay. Mid-tier. No Pass Permit.

The innkeeper opened his mouth to reply, but Zhu Zhenzhen had already pulled Song Heng to the doorway. As she took her first step out, a voice called from behind, Sir, as long as you have money, you’re welcome to stay.

Zhu Zhenzhen ignored him, still talking to Song Heng, We’ll sleep in the ruined temple tonight. You’ll sleep outside, I’ll sleep inside. I’m old, and the night wind will give me rheumatism…

Song Heng was being dragged around like a chick, Zhu Zhenzhen’s small frame belying her surprising strength.

…Wait, he said we can stay, Song Heng said, shaking off Zhu Zhenzhen’s hand and straightening his clothes.

Zhu Zhenzhen looked surprised.

She walked back inside. Really? We can stay?

The innkeeper maintained his warm smile, looking utterly welcoming. Of course. A top-tier room is twenty taels of silver per night, and a mid-tier room is half that—ten taels.

Zhu Zhenzhen gasped. Twenty taels a night? This must be a black market inn! All the other inns we stayed at were only a few dozen to a few hundred wen per night.

The innkeeper, seeing Zhu Zhenzhen’s stunned expression, immediately knew what she was thinking. He continued, Staying here without a Pass Permit means risking confiscation by the authorities. One wrong move, and your head could roll. Naturally, it’s more expensive.

In other words, this inn was a melting pot of all sorts of people, making it safer for them.

Zhu Zhenzhen gritted her teeth, waved her hand, and pulled out all the silver from her pouch. One room, please.

The innkeeper tapped his abacus, carefully counting the silver. That’s enough for five nights, sir. If you can’t pay the remaining balance after that, we’ll have to ask you to leave.

As soon as Zhu Zhenzhen entered the room, she collapsed into a starfish pose, not uttering a word. She ignored Song Heng completely, looking like a corpse.

The Sun and Moon Inn was run by jianghueople. They didn’t ask about your past or your origins—just pay and stay. Its diverse clientele also made it a good place to gather information.

In her previous life, Zhu Zhenzhen had rushed through without delving deeply into the affairs of the martial world. The innkeeper was elusive, rumored to possess the art of disguise, appearing everywhere and nowhere at once—whether this was true or not remained a mystery.

The person on the bed jingled as they shook out all their jewelry, arranging each piece meticulously while muttering to themselves like a fortune-teller.

How is this ugly? Why would anyone reject it? Zhu Zhenzhen picked up a hairpin and even bit it. Pure gold, and they don’t want it? They really don’t know its worth.

Could it be… that gold isn’t a universal currency in this world? Zhu Zhenzhen pondered, resting her chin in her hand. That can’t be right. Didn’t they say ‘a man’s dignity is worth more than gold’ in ancient times?

Song Heng sat obediently beside her. Sister, these valuable ornaments are all recorded by the government. Within two days, officials will be sent to Song Manor to inventory them. If they discover any have been pawned, you’ll be interrogated.

Valuable? How valuable could they be?

Zhu Zhenzhen held up the hairpin. How much is this worth?

Song Heng glanced at it and replied, This is a filigree phoenix hairpin inlaid with red agate. The materials alone cost four hundred taels, and with the craftsmanship, it’s worth seven hundred taels.

Zhu Zhenzhen pulled out a plain white jade bracelet. This looks ordinary. It can’t be worth much, right?

Cloud Glaze Mist Bracelet, Song Heng replied. Five hundred taels.

Zhu Zhenzhen produced another item. Song Heng responded, Auspicious Harvest Pendant, eight hundred taels.

Black Jade Gilded Glass-Topped Ring, eight hundred taels.

Kingfisher Feather Inlaid Coral Hairpin, six hundred taels.

Zhu Zhenzhen was speechless.

So… I’m considered wealthy?

Song Heng hesitated for a moment before nodding.

Zhu Zhenzhen was incredulous. But I have no money to spend?

This time, Song Heng nodded emphatically.

Zhu Zhenzhen finally understood what it meant to be like a eunuch visiting a brothel—the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.

After resting at the Sun and Moon Inn for two days, Zhu Zhenzhen decided to venture out and explore ways to earn money. She felt like every breath she took in the inn’s dining hall cost her several coins.

The inn might have been dark and dingy, but the food was decent.

In the dining hall

Hey, have you heard? Li Jiadong is seriously ill.

Zhu Zhenzhen continued eating, stuffing her mouth with food. I need to eat my fill to get my money’s worth.

Li Jiadong? One man paused. Don’t know him.

Zhu Zhenzhen sat right behind them, eavesdropping intently. The gossip here was far more interesting—and explosive—than what she’d heard in the market. In just two days, she’d already heard four family secrets, three cases of illicit affairs, and two instances of same-s3x relationships.

Zhu Zhenzhen straightened up, chewing slowly, afraid to miss a word.

One of the men set down his chopsticks. He’s the one who’s been exploiting the people, using the prince’s authority to line his own pockets.

Ah, I remember now. What’s happened to him?

I heard… The man lowered his voice. He’s fallen ill. And it’s no ordinary sickness—it’s the dreaded consumption.

Hmph, I figured he’d get syphilis first. He’s been snatching women left and right and frequenting brothels.

Another man leaned in. I heard something else too. They say once you enter the Li family, even your corpse disappears.

Zhu Zhenzhen immediately sensed something was wrong.

The disease was transmitted by a beggar. Li Jiadong has sent men to find him, offering a reward of a hundred taels.

Li Jiadong has caused plenty of harm, that’s true. But the reward is real. Keep an eye out when you’re out there—you might just pocket that money.

Zhu Zhenzhen clutched her forehead, as if struck by lightning. How could a disease she’d made up on the spot be contagious? This wasn’t how words become law was supposed to work, was it? What was going on?

A cloud of suspicion formed in her mind. She resolved to investigate as soon as her leg injury healed enough.

The full moon in July shone with unusual brilliance, no longer obscured by clouds, as if determined to illuminate every dark corner of the world.

Zhu Zhenzhen changed into a black outfit and moved swiftly across the rooftops, like a nimble black cat darting through the shadows. In the blink of an eye, she had already vanished into the distance.

While her other skills were limited, infiltrating wealthy households was child’s play for her. Even with servants swarming the grounds and lanterns illuminating every corner, it was effortless. As she passed the bedroom, she saw Li Jiadong lying unconscious on the bed, his eyes tightly shut, while a maid stood beside him, holding a bowl of soup with hesitant hands.

She quickly located the study. Strangely, despite its importance, the room had no guards—a welcome convenience.

Inside, the study contained only three rows of bookshelves and a desk. The books on the shelves were covered in dust. Despite the spacious room, the desk and shelves were crammed together, creating a cramped and oppressive atmosphere, while the rest of the space remained starkly empty, yet strangely vast.

This layout struck Zhu Zhenzhen as odd, almost like a courtroom for interrogating criminals.

Suppressing her unease, she began searching the room.

The only books showing signs of recent use were medical texts. As Zhu Zhenzhen flipped through them one by one, she discovered that every volume contained prescriptions for treating tuberculosis, with numerous passages circled and marked in cinnabar.

It seemed he truly had contracted tuberculosis.

But who had infected him?

She straightened the books on the shelf and turned, bumping into the table. The brush stand wobbled, and a brush fell like a coin from a money tree.

Zhu Zhenzhen instinctively reached out to catch it, succeeding but accidentally smearing ink all over her hand.

She leaned over the table, rummaging through the papers. Aside from a few practice calligraphy sheets, she found nothing else.

Straightening up to stretch, she scanned the room again. No hidden compartments, no secret chambers—could it be that the important items weren’t hidden here?

Suddenly, her gaze froze on the objects on the table.

The ink on the Xuan paper had long dried, but the ink in the inkstone remained wet, and the purple-haired brush on the stand still dripped with ink.

Purple-haired brushes were made from the exceptionally resilient, stiff hairs from the back of mountain hares in Jiangnan. Only a small amount could be harvested from each hare, making them quite valuable.

The fact that even this prized brush hadn’t been cleaned suggested a hasty departure.

Zhu Zhenzhen rubbed her fingers together, the thick ink staining her porcelain-white hand black.

Li Jiadong had been here recently, even writing a letter. But upon closer thought, something didn’t add up. Li Jiadong was supposed to be bedridden in his bedroom—why would he make a special trip here?

Could it be that Li Jiadong didn’t write it? But if not Li Jiadong, why would someone write a letter in his study?

Footsteps suddenly sounded outside the door, very light, as if someone was deliberately tiptoeing.

Zhu Zhenzhen, immediately alert, ducked behind the bookshelf, trying to peek through the gaps between the shelves to see who was coming.

Creeak.

The wooden door slowly closed. The room was unlit, making it difficult to make out anything beyond a shadowy figure.

The figure was slender, definitely not Li Jiadong.

Closer and closer it came, the person groping around the table leg.

A click sounded, and a hidden groove appeared in the previously seamless floor! The figure bent down to retrieve something from within.

Who would hide a mechanism at the table leg? Zhu Zhenzhen thought, speechless. I’ve searched this entire table inside and out, and it was hidden in this obscure corner?

The dim light and the books blocking her view made it impossible to see what the figure was retrieving. Zhu Zhenzhen carefully pulled out the book directly in front of her.

This move proved disastrous. The figure swiftly shoved the object into their pocket, straightened up, and began walking directly toward her hiding spot.

She was certain this person’s senses were just as sharp as hers.

Zhu Zhenzhen held her breath, crouching down and shrinking back as far as she could. Using the shadows on the floor, she gauged his position and maneuvered around the bookshelves. Fortunately, he didn’t notice her and simply pulled out a book to sit at the desk.

The oppressive silence set off alarm bells in her mind. She tried to slip away, but the narrow gap was blocked by the man, leaving her stuck in an awkward limbo.

As she considered her next move, she realized something was wrong. The man hadn’t made a single sound. Not only had he not turned a page of his book, but how could he even see in the pitch-black room, where even the candle remained unlit?

Could it be…?