“Lift the fingerprints.” Shi Ting handed the pump to Bai Jin and stripped off his white gloves.

In this era, fingerprint collection was not technically primitive — but there was no fingerprint database, no computer assistance. Matching a fingerprint on a weapon to a suspect was done entirely by eye, by a trained examiner.

And Bai Jin was the expert.

Shi Ting searched Qian De’you and Di Huai’s rooms as well. Sure enough, in Qian De’you’s bed he found two cocklebur seeds. Cocklebur grew only on Cang’er Mountain. Their presence in Qian De’you’s room proved he had been there, and that he was the one who had left Yan Qing on that mountain.

Shi Ting had both Di Huai and Qian De’you brought in.

Bai Jin said from the side, “Seventh Brother, the person who beat Liu Qi to death with the bicycle pump doesn’t have to be one of the Yan family’s drivers. Someone else could have come into Liu Qi’s room and used it on him.”

“No. The killer is one of the drivers.” Shi Ting was certain. “Don’t forget: whoever it was feared that Yan Qing would expose them, and acted that very night to leave her for dead on the mountain. They knew the Yan Mansion layout and could move the Yan family’s vehicles freely.”

“If that’s the case, the killer is Qian De’you.”

As expected, Qian De’you had been living on edge since committing the crime. When he saw Yan Qing return unharmed, the last of his mental defenses crumbled. The Military Police Division had barely begun questioning him before he confessed everything.

Qian De’you, Liu Qi, and Di Huai were all drivers for the Yan family. Liu Qi was responsible for driving Master Yan personally.

Driving the master of the household gave a certain status, and it had gone to Liu Qi’s head. He had grown arrogant and complacent, and one time when he was out driving, he carelessly collided with a rickshaw. Though Master Yan was unhurt, it gave him quite a fright, and upon returning home he wanted Liu Qi replaced.

Hearing that Master Yan was dissatisfied with Liu Qi, Qian De’you saw his chance. He found ways to have people praise him before the Master, and Master Yan — already inclined to make a change after the accident — had Qian De’you summoned for a conversation.

When Liu Qi found out, he beat Qian De’you soundly. Qian De’you couldn’t fight back and took the beating badly, and the humiliation festered in him ever since.

On the day of the incident, Qian De’you went to confront Liu Qi. Liu Qi told him to stop dreaming — the Master would never take him as a driver — and threatened to have Qian De’you thrown out of the Yan household altogether.

Qian De’you flew into a rage. As Liu Qi turned to walk out, he grabbed the bicycle pump beside him and swung it at Liu Qi’s head.

Liu Qi was powerfully built and didn’t go down from the blow. He wrenched the pump away from Qian De’you and struck him with it in return, driving him away.

After Qian De’you left, Liu Qi drank half a bottle of liquor and fell into a drunken sleep in his room.

When he woke, Di Huai came looking for him. There was only one bicycle pump in the garage, and Liu Qi had always kept it for himself. To get air in the tires, you had to grovel before him.

When Di Huai came to borrow the pump, the two men quarreled. Still arguing, they moved outside, where Di Huai grabbed a wooden rod and struck Liu Qi from behind.

Following that blow, the hematoma in Liu Qi’s head ruptured. He collapsed and died on the spot — and the whole thing was witnessed by the workers sitting outside playing cards.

Qian De’you had also believed it was Di Huai who killed Liu Qi. But once Yan Qing arrived and determined that the cause of death had nothing to do with the wound on his back — and then proceeded to examine Liu Qi’s head — Qian De’you realized it was his own blow with the bicycle pump that had led to Liu Qi’s death.

Consumed by guilt and fear, Qian De’you had heard that Yan Qing could make the dead speak. He decided she had to be silenced.

With Qian De’you’s arrest, the case of Liu Qi’s murder was officially closed.

After the Military Police Division departed, Yan Qing returned to her own courtyard.

In these past few days of illness, she had missed considerable coursework. Combined with the lingering weight of the situation involving Jing Lan, she had no desire to return to school and had simply extended her leave.

“Miss, Di Huai is outside asking to see you,” Murong said, coming in quickly.

“What is it?” Yan Qing had just washed her hands and was taking a towel from Jing Zhi.

“Probably to thank you, Miss.” Murong said. “He seems like a person who knows to repay a kindness.”

Murong pushed Yan Qing out into the courtyard, where Di Huai was indeed kneeling ramrod-straight on the ground. When he saw her, he pressed his forehead to the ground three times — each knock resounding.

“Di Huai gives his deepest thanks to Sixth Miss for saving his life. From this day forward, his life belongs to Sixth Miss. With a single word from you, Di Huai would walk through fire and water.”

“There’s no need for all of that,” Yan Qing said. “Please, stand up.”

Di Huai rose, but remained with his head respectfully bowed.

Murong noticed he kept standing there, something clearly left unsaid, and asked, “Di Huai, is there something else?”

Di Huai’s face reddened, and after several halting starts, he finally spoke. “Di Huai wishes to serve Sixth Miss. Whatever the work — dirty, hard, or dangerous — he will do it. He only asks to be allowed to remain at Sixth Miss’s side.”

Murong had not expected such determination from a man who simply wished to repay a debt.

“Have you had any schooling?” Yan Qing asked with a quiet smile.

“I never attended school, but I have taught myself from books. I can manage sums and read well enough.” Di Huai answered respectfully.

“Murong — is there anything we’re short of in this courtyard?”

Murong thought for a moment. “We could use someone to handle odd tasks.”

With just herself and Jing Zhi, there were many things they couldn’t manage easily.

At Murong’s words, Di Huai’s eyes lit with a hopeful, barely-contained anxiety. He clearly wanted the position with every part of himself, yet was straining to hold the feeling back.

Yan Qing regarded him with a gentle expression. She saw how tightly his hands gripped the hem of his clothing, sweat already beading at his temples from nerves, and she couldn’t help but smile softly. “Being a driver is a good post. You’d truly give it up to come and work as an odd-job man in my courtyard?”

“I would. I truly would.” Di Huai lifted his head, eyes bright. “As long as I’m working for Sixth Miss, I’ll do anything.”

“Then there is something I’d like you to do right now.”

“Sixth Miss has only to command. Di Huai will give his life for it.”

Yan Qing smiled. “Go and get settled first. Murong will have a side room prepared for you to live in. From now on, you’re part of this courtyard. I’ll go speak with Father myself about transferring you over.”

Di Huai knelt again. “Many thanks, Sixth Miss.”

After Di Huai left in high spirits, Murong sighed with quiet approval. “Truly a devoted sort. And he has some skill in martial arts, quick-thinking, knows how to drive, can do sums and read — keeping someone like him here as an odd-job man really couldn’t be better.”

“You seem to think rather highly of Di Huai,” Yan Qing said with a teasing smile.

Murong answered with complete composure. “I do know him, and I have some sense of his character — which is precisely why I agreed to let Miss bring him into the courtyard. Miss, I have no other intention toward him.”

Yan Qing smiled. “I was only teasing.”

“Miss didn’t sound like she was teasing at all,” Murong said, pursing her lips.

“Alright, alright. I’ll stop.”

As the two of them headed back inside, the wheelchair gave a small jolt over an uneven patch of ground. Yan Qing sighed privately — there truly was no replacing the original. She couldn’t seem to get used to this old one at all.

~~

As night fell, the entertainment district of Shun Cheng blazed with light in all its splendor.

Beneath that glittering surface lay one of Shun Cheng’s most well-known underground markets — things that flew, things that ran, things buried in tombs, things worn on the body. Whatever you could dream of, it could be found here.

Night was when the underground city was most alive. People came to wander, to bargain, to see if luck might lead them to something rare and precious.

At that moment, a lean figure appeared at the entrance to the underground city. He wore a black leather jacket, black trousers, and military boots. A cap pulled low obscured half his face, but the lines visible beneath it left no doubt that the hidden features were striking.

He moved through the lively market stalls, and quickly slipped through a small side door.

The proprietor sat comfortably in a deep sofa, holding a glass of red wine, a half-finished cigar on the table beside an elegant bottle covered in dense foreign lettering — the vintage clearly something remarkable.

At the sound of the door, the proprietor set down his cigar and narrowed a pair of peach-blossom eyes. “Well, well — if it isn’t the Seventh Young Master, whom I haven’t seen in ages.”

Shi Ting stepped in, removed his cap and held it in his hand. Smooth hair fell gently across his brow. His eyes were bright as snow.

“What brings the Seventh Young Master to my humble establishment?” The proprietor blinked and tilted his wine glass toward Shi Ting with a leisurely flourish. The deep red wine swirled against the glass — it must have been a very fine bottle.

“I’ve come to buy something.” Shi Ting moved to the counter, and rather than look at any of the firearms and ammunition hanging on display, he turned his attention to the materials used to make them.

“Doesn’t the Seventh Young Master have an arms factory? Why would materials from my little shop interest you…”

Before the proprietor could finish, a steel ball flicked from between Shi Ting’s fingers, struck the expensive wine bottle directly, and the bottle shattered in an instant, red wine cascading out.

The proprietor stared for a moment, then leaped up from the sofa with a shout. “Shi Xingzhi, I’ll fight you for this!”

Shi Ting turned a small steel ball between two fingers and quirked the corner of his mouth.

“Alright, alright.” Xie Yan immediately raised both hands in surrender. “What do you want to buy? Name it — anything.”

“I need some quality materials.”

“Materials for what?”

“A wheelchair.”

Xie Yan’s eyes went wide. “You’re going to cripple someone and then hand them a wheelchair? That’s some very attentive service after the fact.”

Shi Ting selected his materials carefully, paying no mind to Xie Yan.

“In all seriousness, if you want materials for a wheelchair, go to the steel market. This is a place that deals in guns and artillery. Are you planning to build a wheelchair that can take the field of battle?”

Xie Yan watched Shi Ting’s long, precise fingers at work. “Those hands were made for crafting firearms. Since when did you switch careers to making wheelchairs? Is the Military Police Division budget truly so strained that the Director has to pick up craftwork on the side to make ends meet?”

Ignoring Xie Yan’s ceaseless muttering, Shi Ting held up the material he had selected. “This one. Have it set aside for me. And I want the finest wheels this market carries.”

Xie Yan stared as though he’d witnessed something supernatural, exclaiming over and over, “Something’s not right here — something is very not right — Shi Qi, have you completely lost your mind?”