Finally, Yan Sanhe spoke: “What’s your name?”

The man: “I’m called Chen Mao.”

Yan Sanhe: “How old are you this year?”

Chen Mao was stunned. Why, when it came to him, were they even asking about age?

“Thirty-eight.”

Yan Sanhe: “In the eighth year of Yonghe, how old were you?”

Chen Mao was stunned for quite a while. “Twenty-eight.”

Yan Sanhe: “How many years in this trade?”

Chen Mao: “I’ve been helping my master since I was small.”

Yan Sanhe: “How small is ‘small’?”

Chen Mao: “About seven or eight years old.”

Yan Sanhe: “You were the only one preparing bodies at the Begonia Garden?”

Chen Mao nodded.

Yan Sanhe: “How many corpses total?”

Chen Mao: “Four total.”

Yan Sanhe: “Which four?”

As soon as this question was asked, Xie Zhifei standing behind her also slightly frowned.

This girl was strange—why keep asking irrelevant questions?

Chen Mao: “Two male corpses were outside, one large, one small. Two female corpses were inside the room, also one large, one small.”

Yan Sanhe: “Which room? Side room or main room?”

Chen Mao: “Side room.”

Yan Sanhe: “East side room or west side room?”

Chen Mao: “West side room.”

Yan Sanhe: “In front of the west side room, what kind of tree was planted?”

Chen Mao was stunned. Weren’t they asking about corpses? Why ask about trees?

“I, I didn’t pay attention.”

“Didn’t pay attention, or never saw it at all?”

Yan Sanhe suddenly smiled.

“Begonia Garden, Begonia Garden—as the name suggests, begonias are planted.

In the eighth year of Yonghe, such a huge blood case at the Zheng residence—this kind of scene is what most corpse preparers encounter once in a lifetime at most. I asked you how old you were that year, you were stunned for quite a while before saying you were twenty-eight.

Chen Mao, are you bullying me because I’m young and also a woman, thinking I can’t see that under the table, you’re moving your fingers, struggling to calculate in your mind?”

Chen Mao’s face turned completely ashen. “Your Honor, everything I said was truth. If even one sentence is false…”

“Your stomach starting to hurt? This wine was mixed with poison. That tea is the antidote.”

Chen Mao: “…”

Yan Sanhe slapped the table, shouting sternly: “Do you truly think we officials all just eat free rice and don’t work, believing whoever makes poison vows?”

Chen Mao clutched his stomach, trembling with fear.

No wonder—no wonder they had to finish a cup of tea before leaving this private room. So it was…

Sweat the size of beans emerged from his forehead. His stomach vaguely began to ache. Was, was, was the poison starting to take effect?

“Your Honor!”

Chen Mao stood up in a fluster, threw himself beside Yan Sanhe, fell to his knees with a thud. “I, I…”

“The person who prepared bodies at the Begonia Garden wasn’t you at all.”

Yan Sanhe’s face showed no expression. “If you want to live, be straightforward. Speak—is that person your father, your older brother, or your grandfather?”

Chen Mao’s mouth gaped wide enough to fit an egg, fear appearing in his eyes.

After a long while, his head drooped.

“The one who prepared bodies at the Begonia Garden was my older brother!”

Yan Sanhe’s voice was cold as ice. “Where is he now?”

Chen Mao’s expression stiffened. “My brother… he’s at home.”

Yan Sanhe turned around, eyebrow raised. “Going?”

“Going!”

Xie Zhifei nodded.

…

The Chen Family was in the northern part of the capital.

A small courtyard housing two brothers’ families and a half-blind Old Lady Chen.

Old Chen had died early, leaving two sons and one daughter.

Old Lady did needlework for others to support the family—daytime and nighttime both. Her eyes grew worse and worse until finally becoming half-blind.

Chen Mao’s older brother was called Chen Pi.

As they say, the eldest brother is like a father. Around age eight, Chen Pi began learning funeral work from a master. Four years later he completed his apprenticeship and brought silver home, shouldering the family business at a young age.

When Yan Sanhe and Xie Zhifei saw Chen Pi, both were severely shocked.

This man lay in bed, covered with a thick cotton quilt despite it being the fourth month. His entire body was wrapped tightly, exposing only a pair of skeleton-like eyes.

Seeing people arrive, those skeleton-like eyes slowly turned over.

“Brother, this is Commander Xie from the Five Cities Commandery. This is an expert Commander Xie invited—I don’t know what she’s called.”

Chen Mao said with a mournful face: “Brother, they ferreted me out and also, also fed me poison.”

Chen Pi’s two eyelids closed. He sighed lightly.

He seemed not at all surprised that his own brother had been ferreted out.

Hearing this sigh, Chen Mao quickly lifted the blanket and helped him sit up.

As he sat, Yan Sanhe and Xie Zhifei looked at each other.

Not just his eyes like a skeleton—his entire face was like one. Virtually no flesh at all, skin stuck directly to bone, thin to the point of being terrifying.

Moreover, he was also wearing a padded jacket.

Yan Sanhe’s instinct told her something was wrong. “Have him expose his wrist for me to see.”

Chen Mao dared neither refuse Yan Sanhe nor presume to lift the clothing himself. He could only pitifully call out “Brother.”

The older brother nodded. Only then did Chen Mao dare lift the sleeve a little.

This was a forearm like a withered branch—a thin layer of skin hanging on bone, even thinner than emaciated.

No wonder he feared cold.

Truly without a single bit of flesh on his entire body.

Xie Zhifei frowned. “Chen Pi, what illness do you have?”

Chen Pi didn’t acknowledge Xie Zhifei but looked at his own brother.

Chen Mao quickly poured a bit of tea from the teapot and fed it to Chen Pi’s lips.

Chen Pi drank a mouthful. “Speak. What do you want from me?”

The throat moistened by water was exceptionally hoarse, as if he hadn’t spoken for a very long time.

Xie Zhifei glanced at Chen Mao. Chen Mao immediately brought over two chairs.

As Yan Sanhe sat, she spoke: “Eighth year of Yonghe. Zheng Family. Begonia Garden.”

Hearing these words, Chen Pi not only wasn’t shocked—the skin hanging on his face moved. He actually smiled faintly.

Yan Sanhe: “What are you smiling about?”

Chen Pi’s right hand touched his left hand before saying hoarsely: “I knew there would be this day.”

These words had an explosive force equal to dozens of firecrackers detonating simultaneously.

Yan Sanhe turned to look at Xie Zhifei, only to find he was also looking at her, his brows grave.

Just then, Chen Pi extended both hands like chicken claws, turning them over and back to look. “I could become what I am now—it’s because of that corpse preparation.”

Yan Sanhe: “In the eighth year of Yonghe, how old were you?”

Chen Pi: “Exactly thirty.”

Yan Sanhe: “Among funeral workers, thirty years old is still quite young.”

“That’s why the Begonia Garden was assigned to me.”

Chen Pi pointed at the two people before the bed. “Whichever of you—first cure my brother’s poison.”

Xie Zhifei glanced at Yan Sanhe. Seeing she had no reaction, he said: “That won’t do. You speak first, then we cure the poison.”

“There’s no poison. Just a bit of croton juice added to his wine.”

Yan Sanhe: “A few trips to the privy counts as curing the poison.”

Chen Mao exclaimed “Aiya.” No wonder his stomach was cramping in waves—so this was needing to defecate!

Couldn’t hold it anymore.

Chen Mao quickly clamped his buttocks and rushed to the privy.

Xie Zhifei looked at Yan Sanhe’s profile, secretly exhaling deeply.

Having Mingting and Hero Li make such a fuss going to the Pei household for poison turned out to be for Huairen’s eyes too.

Three times in a row, three false moves…

It seemed she was guarding against the Zhao Family in her heart.