Returning to the city at dusk, Meng Jianqing was still lodged at Yan Fuping’s place. The guard he’d sent out to investigate the assassin soldier returned to report that the soldier hadn’t originally been military personnel, but was bought this autumn by a household due for service to substitute for their son. Further investigation revealed that this soldier came from a wealthy family that had fallen during the Guo Huan case several years ago. Due to deep involvement, all males over fifteen in the household had been executed, while women and males under fifteen were sold into slavery by the government.

This didn’t differ much from Meng Jianqing’s speculation. However, the Guo Huan case had originated in Beiping, not Yunnan, and not many people knew the role he’d played in it. How did this soldier know to settle this score with him?

After pondering for a while, he said, “I heard that the soldier’s flute and vertical bamboo flute playing had considerable skill—he must have received instruction from renowned masters in the Imperial Music Department and practiced diligently. Sold into slavery at fifteen—he’d be seventeen or eighteen now. Where was he during those two or three years? And who taught him?”

Yan Fuping was secretly surprised. When did Meng Jianqing learned to distinguish whether this soldier’s flute and vertical bamboo flute playing had been instructed by renowned masters from the Imperial Music Department? Honestly, he couldn’t hear anything special about it.

The guard reported that after the official sale, this soldier had passed through several masters, apparently without major incident, so they hadn’t investigated thoroughly.

As they spoke, both guards felt uneasy, their expressions somewhat fearful. They should have investigated the complete background before reporting.

Meng Jianqing asked again, “Among this soldier’s various masters, were any from the Imperial Music Department? Or people with close connections to the Imperial Music Department?”

The two guards suddenly had an epiphany, understanding Meng Jianqing’s repeated questioning. One said, “We heard one was a local gentleman called Squire Ding, extremely wealthy, who liked to keep singing girls and catamites. It must be him. Many famous courtesans from Suzhou and Hangzhou, as well as boat women from the Qiantang River, had dealings with him.”

Meng Jianqing stood up, “Then we’ll visit this Squire Ding tonight.”

As he was leaving, Yan Fuping couldn’t help saying, “Brother Meng, why such haste? That Squire Ding has extensive family and business—he can’t run away. Tomorrow would be fine too. Hu Jinyong and I invited several people and were planning to have a good time tonight.”

Meng Jianqing smiled slightly, “The blessed need not hurry.”

Yan Fuping sighed, “The unblessed are busy as one-legged cats—really can’t tell who’s blessed and who isn’t! Go on then, we’ll drink when you return!”

Meng Jianqing smiled and departed.

This left Yan Fuping puzzling over how to entertain the group of fair-weather friends they’d invited tonight.

When Meng Jianqing’s party suddenly called to visit, despite Squire Ding’s wealth and influence, he couldn’t help feeling alarmed. He carefully inquired about their purpose while mentally reviewing whether he’d made any recent missteps—was it merely because tall trees attract wind that brought the Imperial Guard, or was there another reason? Hearing that a servant who’d once stayed under his roof had been killed today for attempting to assassinate Lieutenant Meng, he broke into a cold sweat. Only when Meng Jianqing directed the conversation toward musicians or music masters who’d taught that soldier did he secretly breathe a sigh of relief. He hurriedly summoned his steward to compile a complete list of Imperial Music Department people he’d associated with in recent years, while privately wondering whether he should present a generous gift when seeing the deity off, but feared being too clever by half. Though Lieutenant Meng was young, his preferences were truly hard to fathom.

Meng Jianqing took the list and read it intently for a long time before tucking it into his robes, smiling, “Sorry to disturb you, Squire Ding.”

After seeing them out, everyone in the Ding household broke into cold sweats. Squire Ding was deeply worried, sometimes hoping everyone on the list was innocent so he could escape involvement, sometimes hoping Meng Jianqing would find the truly guilty party to clear everyone else.

The winter night was cold, with a new moon rising. Moonlight, cold and clear as water, poured straight down, illuminating the azure stone streets in snowy blue.

While the rest of Hangzhou began quieting down, the people on that list were just beginning their day’s revelry.

Meng Jianqing had summoned two veteran constables from Hangzhou Prefecture—Secretary Zhou was a legal secretary, so arranging for two constables was quite convenient—and they led the way with familiar routes, following the list systematically. Meng Jianqing said the West Lake area mostly had official brothels, which they’d leave alone for now, starting instead with the boat women.

The two constables looked at each other. One said quietly, “Lieutenant Meng, boat women are supposedly a grade below proper official brothels, but truth be told, many nobles prefer the unique charm of boat women. If we barge in rashly, I’m afraid—”

Meng Jianqing glanced at them. The two constables immediately fell silent. Thinking it over, they felt foolish—when the Imperial Guard investigated cases, how many nobles dared interfere? Moreover, they’d already witnessed this Lieutenant Meng’s boldness during the day, making their concern unnecessary.

Along the Qiantang River, boat shadows clustered and lights dotted the water. River waves harmonized with music and song. Though it couldn’t match West Lake’s enchanting scenery, the open river and sky under moonlight, like water, had its distinctive beauty.

They stopped by the river, waiting for Meng Jianqing to name his target.

The first name Meng Jianqing spoke was “Meihong.”

One constable blurted out, “That’s the head woman of the Ke family’s sixteenth boat.”

He pointed toward a large boat moored under an old willow in a small bay.