Chen Pi looked at the young woman before him. Her features were beautiful, her dark pupils no longer the coldness of their first meeting, revealing a bit of warmth.

This warmth, like the cotton quilt on his body, inexplicably gave him a sense of security.

“It was Liu the Fortune Teller who lowered his coffin.”

Chen Pi slowly began, “After Liu the Fortune Teller returned, he said something to his wife. He said that only when a person dies can you know whether the people around them are human or ghost.”

His wife loved hearing about noble families’ affairs most. Hearing her husband say this, she immediately perked up and pressed him about the Qian family matters.

It turned out this Qian Chengjiang died suddenly without leaving a single word. His body had barely been placed in the coffin when his four sons began fighting over the family property.

Qian Chengjiang’s first wife had died early, leaving behind two sons.

His current bedmate was a second wife who had also borne two sons.

All four sons were legitimate heirs, fighting irreconcilably. They nearly came to blows right in the mourning hall.

When the quarrel reached its most intense, the younger son of the first wife spoke recklessly, saying one devastating thing—that he suspected the stepmother had murdered for wealth and killed Qian Chengjiang.

Liu the Fortune Teller’s wife then asked if there was something wrong with Qian Chengjiang’s corpse.

Liu the Fortune Teller pointed to his own mouth and said in a low voice: His tongue was black.

Yan Sanhe was startled, but heard Xie Zhifei beside her say in a low voice, “Either a sudden severe illness or poisoning.”

Poisoning?

Yan Sanhe looked at Chen Pi. “Since the two older sons already had suspicions, why didn’t they report to the authorities for an autopsy?”

“I don’t know.”

Chen Pi’s eyes dimmed. “We common people only hear bits and pieces about noble family matters.”

“So you suspected Qian Chengjiang was murdered?”

“I didn’t, I didn’t—I was just guessing wildly, wildly…”

Chen Pi shook his head like a rattle drum, his body instinctively shrinking back into the quilt.

“Chen Pi.”

Yan Sanhe’s voice was gentle. “Do you know how a person can eat well and sleep soundly?”

Chen Pi murmured, “Do no wrong, and ghosts won’t knock at your door.”

“That little wrong you did—ghosts are too lazy to knock at your door for it. Once you recover later, just find a woman from the funeral business to marry and start a family. If your son also does funeral work in the future, there’s nothing shameful about it.”

Yan Sanhe sneered slowly.

“In this world, people are far more terrifying than ghosts. With your little bit of courage… you’re better off dealing with the dead.”

Chen Pi: “…”

Could he, could he really recover someday?

…

The heavy night seemed to drape layer upon layer of gauze over the capital.

Lifting these layers, would what lay beneath be happiness and reunion, or conspiracy and calculation? Who could know?

Yan Sanhe and Xie Zhifei walked side by side leading their horses, both constantly sighing deeply.

The moldy, sour smell from Chen Pi’s room earlier still lingered at their nostrils, refusing to dissipate.

“Yan Sanhe.”

Xie Zhifei stopped. “Those three case files aren’t complete—there are many omissions. Qian Chengjiang was from the Ministry of Justice, so it seems the Ministry of Justice was also involved.”

“A few hands can’t cover the sky. Only countless hands can cover a corner of the sky.”

Yan Sanhe stepped forward and gently stroked Xie Zhifei’s brow.

This brow had been furrowed tightly ever since Chen Pi began speaking, never relaxing.

“Very soon, we’ll pull down these hands one by one.”

The night was so peaceful.

Xie Zhifei grasped that cold hand and pulled it behind him, while his other hand reached out to gently embrace her.

Chen Pi’s words about Haitang Courtyard had torn open his wound, and hers as well.

Since they were wounds, they needed time, needed healing.

And this person in his arms, able to hear his heart beating, able to feel his chest’s warmth—perhaps the wounds would hurt a bit less.

After a long while, he said softly, “Currently we’ve pulled down three hands.”

Yan Sanhe’s voice was muffled. “First hand: Zheng Huantang’s intestines were pulled out by someone else.”

Xie Zhifei: “Second hand: The fire was after that mother and daughter had their throats cut. In other words, after the entire Zheng residence was slaughtered.”

Yan Sanhe: “Third hand: Qian Chengjiang’s cause of death is a mystery.”

Xie Zhifei rubbed her head with his chin. “Next step, what do we do?”

Yan Sanhe had already calculated it in her heart.

“First step: Exhume and autopsy Qian Chengjiang to see exactly how he died. If he died by foul means, then we can confirm he participated in the Zheng family case and lost his life because of it.”

Xie Zhifei: “Second step?”

Yan Sanhe: “Find out how many officials who participated in this matter in the past ten years died suddenly without any reason.”

Xie Zhifei: “Is there a third step?”

“Yes, and it’s the final step.”

Yan Sanhe looked up at him. “Find the true maker of that cowhide and half ivory waist token.”

A surge of great joy rose from Xie Zhifei’s heart.

This final step was simply a killing blow.

As long as they could prove these two pieces of evidence were fake, then Wu Guanyue and his son could clear their names. This would prove the Zheng family case was indeed a miscarriage of justice.

He just didn’t know if by this step, the war horses of the Three Great Camps situation would ease somewhat.

…

The estate.

Study.

A voice suddenly rang out.

“What? Exhume and autopsy?”

Having returned exhausted from a busy night, suddenly hearing this news, Young Master Pei’s fingers went cold.

Raking through his hair, he swallowed and asked Yan Sanhe.

“When do you plan to do it?”

Xie Zhifei: “I’ve already sent people to find out where Qian Chengjiang is buried. If it goes smoothly, we’ll have news by tomorrow afternoon.”

Yan Sanhe: “Then we’ll do it tonight.”

Pei Xiao’s toes began to go cold. “Opening the coffin is easy—who’ll do the autopsy?”

Yan Sanhe: “Your father!”

Crack!

The teacup in Pei Xiao’s hand fell to the ground, shattering to pieces.

Xie Zhifei walked over and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe the cold sweat from his forehead. “You don’t need to come forward. Yan Sanhe will personally invite him—your father will definitely agree.”

“It’s not that…”

Pei Xiao’s throat bobbed several times. “How did you two think of my father? He only treats living people, not dead ones…”

Yan Sanhe placed one white and one green porcelain bottle on the table, her meaning clear: Your father is someone who can even research poisons.

Pei Xiao’s voice stopped abruptly.

Father!

Your son is unfilial!

At this moment, Yan Sanhe spoke. “Zhu Qing.”

Zhu Qing: “Miss Yan.”

Yan Sanhe: “If we confirm it’s tomorrow for the exhumation and autopsy, you, Ding Yi, and Huang Qi will work hard to prepare everything we need.”

Zhu Qing’s expression was rarely somewhat heavy.

Digging up graves and opening coffins wasn’t difficult—the three of them had done it before. The difficulty was that this time they had no justification.

“Miss Yan, should we notify the Qian family? In case…”

“There is no ‘in case.'”

Yan Sanhe’s gaze turned to Li Buyan. “Tomorrow, in my name, please invite Zhu Yuanmo to come with us tomorrow night.”

“Right, right, right!”

Pei Xiao recovered. “We must invite him to help us divine good and bad fortune.”

Yan Sanhe: “Having him come along isn’t to divine fortune. If the Qian family discovers us, we can use him as a front. After all, even the Emperor deeply trusts the words of the former Director of the Imperial Astronomy Bureau.”

Pei Xiao: “…”

Big Brother Zhu, my apologies!