The house had three rooms in total. The central room served as the kitchen, equipped with a built-in stove and water vat, a worn cabinet for dishes, and a table for eating. Of the two side rooms, one had been occupied by the old couple who had since died, and the other by the former husband and wife who had lived here. Shi Ting assigned Yan Qing and Murong to the cleaner of the two side rooms, while the four men shared the other.

Once the sleeping arrangements were settled, everyone gathered for a case meeting.

With no electric light available, they huddled around a single oil lamp whose flame swayed gently in the draft. In its amber glow, Bai Jin produced the broken branch he had retrieved from the tree.

“I found this in the tree earlier, Seven. Can you tell how it was snapped?”

Shi Ting examined it through the evidence bag with care. “Given the position and height of this branch on the tree, it could not have been broken by a person putting weight on it. This looks more like it was struck by an external force.”

“Struck by an external force?”

Something seemed to occur to Shi Ting. “I’ll go back to the scene again tomorrow and take another look.”

Zheng Yun said, “I went door-to-door among Zhu San’s neighbors. They all say Zhu San was of sound mind — no psychiatric condition.”

“Zhu San had no illness. Da Zhu had no illness. Two physically strong men suddenly picking up cleavers and hacking at themselves — it does seem beyond reason.” E’Yuan sighed. “That must have been agonizing. A normal person would drop the cleaver after one strike. Yet they actually managed to hack all the way through their own necks.”

“Their mental state at the time was in an extreme frenzy. In that condition, they would have been unable to feel pain.” Yan Qing said, “They may have had no underlying psychiatric disorders. But someone used a special method to drive them mad.”

Shi Ting looked across at her through the dim light. The warm amber glow made her features seem softer than ever.

“You believe these are not suicide cases?”

“If Old Li, Zhu San, and Da Zhu all died in this same way — by self-inflicted cleaver wounds — then I believe this is no accident. This is premeditated murder.”

“If it is murder, this killer has been remarkably patient — three years, three victims, all on the same date.”

Zheng Yun said, “Regardless of who the killer is, the person who slaughtered the ten members of the Xu family was absolutely not Zhu San. First, no property stolen from the Xu family was found in his home. Second, he had no jeep — only a pedal three-wheeled cart. Third, no murder weapon was found.”

Zhu San had been fully cleared of suspicion, but this also meant the Xu family massacre had gone from a case with a glimmer of hope to one that had sunk back into darkness.

The group had arrived in Foggy Hollow Village with high expectations. Now a certain dejection had settled over them.

The Xu family case remained unsolved, and now the mysterious self-inflicted cleaver deaths among the villagers had been added to the pile. This journey to Wenshan had truly been one complication after another.

After the meeting broke up, Murong went out to the courtyard to fetch water and boil it. Bai Jin hurried over to help.

Jianguo lay lazily beside Yan Qing’s wheelchair, enjoying his leisure like a man of leisure who had earned it.

“Yan Qing.”

She turned toward the voice and found Shi Ting standing behind her.

He had removed the outer layer of his uniform jacket and stood in only a white inner shirt, its hem tucked into the belt at his waist, his broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted frame fully evident.

“Here,” Shi Ting offered her a clean towel and a toothbrush with tooth powder — and even a small tin of face cream painted with peonies.

Yan Qing was surprised. “Where did you get all of this?”

“I bought them in the county seat.” He seemed slightly self-conscious. “I thought you might be able to use them, so I picked up a set for you.”

When Yan Qing reached up to take them, her fingertips accidentally brushed his fingers. From the feel of it, he had recently washed his hands — his skin was faintly cool, and that cool touch traveled from her fingertips all the way to the center of her chest.

Her hand pulled back slightly. She lowered her head quickly. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Shi Ting withdrew his hand. “Get some rest early.”

“You as well.”

When Murong came back in carrying the basin for washing, she found Yan Qing turning a small tin of face cream over and over in her hands.

“Miss, when did you bring that with you?”

Yan Qing smiled and said nothing.

“Could it be that Director Shi gave it to you?” Murong set down the basin.

Yan Qing quickly tucked the tin away. “I’m going to wash my face.”

Murong was perceptive. She had watched Shi Ting’s attentiveness toward Yan Qing every step of this journey, but when she thought of her young mistress’s existing betrothal to Shi Ting’s second elder brother, a heaviness settled in her heart.

If it were up to her, she would choose Director Shi without a moment’s hesitation. Though he lacked favor with the Commander-in-Chief and held no real authority, he was a man of integrity, and brilliantly capable. Yet the man her young mistress was to marry — Shi Guang — was said to already have a serving girl sharing his quarters.

In the old days, serving girls in that role had been commonplace. But in this era, serving girls rarely signed over their freedom with an indenture, and they were fully at liberty to refuse anything beyond their working duties with their employers. However, if that employer happened to be powerful and influential, there would naturally be no shortage of girls hoping to advance their position. Even if they could not become the official mistress of the household, being taken as a concubine eventually meant a life of comfort and prestige.

That night, the thick fog of Foggy Hollow Village had still not lifted. Through the window came the calls of insects whose names none of them knew.

Yan Qing lay quietly, the soft rhythm of Murong’s breathing beside her.

“Murong, are you asleep?” Yan Qing turned her head on the pillow.

Murong’s eyes gleamed in the dark. “Not yet, Miss. Can’t sleep?”

“A little.” So much had happened over these past two days, and it had left her restless. “Murong, let’s talk.”

“What would you like to talk about, Miss?”

“For instance — has there ever been someone you liked?”

Murong gave a soft laugh. “Miss, is it that you’ve come to like someone?”

In the dark, Murong could not see the pink that rose in Yan Qing’s cheeks. She only heard the mildly indignant sound she made: “How could that be.”

“Miss, what do you think of Director Shi?”

At the mention of Shi Ting, Yan Qing felt her heartbeat quicken. Her heart knocked steadily against her ribs, and warmth crept into the tips of her ears.

“He’s…very good,” Yan Qing said plainly.

“I think well of Director Shi too. Only — he’s not favored by the Commander-in-Chief, and is outranked and overshadowed by both his elder brothers.” Murong’s voice carried a note of regret. “With his abilities, he should have a far greater reach.”

Yan Qing looked toward the window. Beyond it, beneath the fog, even the moonlight was blurred and indistinct — just like when she had first come to this world, uncertain, adrift, with no clear path ahead.

If not for meeting Shi Ting, if not for her work helping the military police solve cases, she might have been nothing more than a useless young miss in the household, quietly awaiting a marriage, awaiting children, passing her life in nameless obscurity.

“Murong,” she said, a quiet smile in her voice, “Director Shi is far from as simple as he appears on the surface.”

Murong raised herself halfway up in bed, eyes wide. “Miss — what does that mean?”

“There is a phrase that goes ‘when the nation is at peace, the people are safe’ — but perhaps it should read the other way around: ‘when the people are safe, the nation can be at peace.’ For a nation, for a city, only when the people live in stability can the state grow strong. In others’ eyes, the military police have no power, no prestige — nothing more than a department that manages public order, far inferior to any actual military force. But since the military police was founded, it has upheld justice and crushed wrongdoing, and its reputation among the common people has grown by the day. Mention Shi Ting’s name to any ordinary person, and you will hear nothing but praise.”

Murong thought about it. “I suppose that’s true. Jing Zhi is herself one of Director Shi’s admirers — in her words, if Shun Cheng is peaceful today, more than half the credit belongs to Director Shi.”

“Water can overturn a boat, but it can also carry one to shore. Whoever holds the hearts of the people will, in the end, hold everything under heaven.” Yan Qing smiled. “Shi Ting built the military police, but that is not where his ambitions end.”

Murong’s breath caught. “Miss, do you mean—”

“There is an old story about nine princes competing for the throne. Nine sons born to an emperor, every one of them wanting the crown. If I say it like that, do you understand?”

“I understand.” Murong could not help but feel a surge of admiration for her young mistress. “Miss, you see through things so clearly.”

Yan Qing shook her head gently. “Shi Ting is exceptionally capable and gifted — that is his innate advantage. But he is a son born outside the formal succession, unrecognized by his father and overshadowed by others — that is his disadvantage in resources. To obtain what he wants, he must bide his time, conceal his strength, and the military police serves as his most effective cover.”

“Miss means that the military police is only part of Director Shi’s strength — that in the shadows, he also has…”

“Shh.” Yan Qing raised a finger to her lips. “Some things can only be understood in the heart. They cannot be spoken aloud.”

Murong said nothing more. She simply closed her eyes and lay back down. She understood — for people like them, it was better to know as little as possible.

Outside the door, Shi Ting stood wrapped in his uniform jacket, motionless, until the room grew gradually quiet. Only then did he turn and walk away.

He had been kept awake by the case and had come out intending to take a walk. He had not expected to hear Yan Qing and Murong’s conversation — and found himself the very subject of it.

He had always known Yan Qing was sharp. He had not expected her sharpness to exceed even his own estimation of her.

If the person who had spoken those words tonight had been anyone other than her — anyone at all — he did not think he would have allowed that person to see the next morning’s sun.

Morning came, as it always did, the sun rising and burning through the heavy fog, casting light onto the thin, worn earth.

Foggy Hollow Village endured more than two hundred foggy days each year. Today was rare — clear skies, clean air — and in the absence of its usual haze, the small mountain village revealed itself to be quiet and serene.

Standing in the courtyard, you could look across and see Huai Mountain in the distance, its peaks imposing, its forests dense, mist still coiling around the midpoint of the slopes so that only the lower half of the mountain could be seen.

Everyone had risen early, for the case surrounding Zhu San still needed to be investigated.

After washing up, Murong had already prepared porridge. The group ate a simple breakfast and then split up to cover different tasks.

Bai Jin and Zheng Yun went into the village to conduct inquiries. Shi Ting and Yan Qing prepared to investigate Old Li from the east end of the village. E’Yuan continued to examine the remains. Murong stayed behind to prepare lunch.

With the assignments made, the group dispersed at once.

Old Li from the east end had been dead for two years, and his surviving family still shuddered at the memory of what had happened. They were visibly reluctant to receive Shi Ting and Yan Qing’s visit, clearly unwilling to speak of it.

In his day, Old Li had been a barber — mediocre at the craft, and not much sought after by the younger generation.

The house he had lived in was a new and spacious compound, clearly built not long ago. The courtyard contained two rows of chicken coops and a pig pen, all recently constructed.

Compared to the village homes they had passed along the way, Old Li’s compound could be called splendid.

Old Li’s son, Li Tie Niu, had been collecting medicinal herbs on the mountain when he slipped and tumbled into a ravine. Both his legs had been broken in the fall, leaving him bedridden ever since.

Yan Qing gave him a few medicated plasters, and he became open and forthcoming at once.

Old Li’s wife, upon seeing how warmly her son was responding, was clearly displeased — but she did not try to stop him. She turned and went outside to work.

—