Shi Guang was in a good mood, and even spoke to Qiucao gently and pleasantly.

“Congratulations, Second Young Master,” Qiucao said as she helped Shi Guang remove his coat and hung it on the rack.

“Aren’t you jealous?” Shi Guang took the teacup Qiucao handed him and took a sip.

Qiucao said, “I know my station is lowly — how could I dare be jealous? Besides, whatever Second Young Master likes, Qiucao likes as well.”

“You certainly know how to talk.” Shi Guang smiled.

“I’ve heard that Fifth Miss of the Yan Family is quite pretty, and as a legitimate daughter of the Yan Family, she is a perfect match for Second Young Master.”

Shi Guang had been bringing the teacup to his lips when he heard the words “Fifth Miss” and froze. “What did you say? Fifth Miss?”

Qiucao caught herself and smiled. “Madam may not have had the chance to inform Second Young Master yet — the marriage arrangement has changed. It was originally Sixth Miss who was to come over, but now it has been switched to Fifth Miss.”

“What?” Shi Guang set his teacup down heavily on the table; the tea inside splashed out in a wide puddle.

Seeing Shi Guang’s sudden change in expression, Qiucao was startled. “Second Young Master, Fifth Miss is a legitimate daughter and is in good health…”

“What do you know?” Shi Guang said with a darkened face and walked out. He had only taken a few steps before Madam Shi blocked his path.

“Where are you going?” Madam Shi demanded.

“I’m going to find the Marshal.” Shi Guang said in agitation. “He gave his word to fix the marriage arrangement — why is it being changed so casually?”

“Your father’s health is poor. Don’t go and upset him.” Madam Shi shot Shi Guang a stern look. “This was my doing. I pressured Mr. Yan into going to your father to change the engagement.”

“Mother, why would you do this?” Shi Guang, who was ordinarily so composed, rarely lost control of his emotions like this. “Did you ever think to ask for my opinion?”

“Everything I do, I do for you. Or do you truly want to marry a cripple? I’m still waiting for her to carry on the Shi family line and expand the family.”

“Yan Qing is not an ordinary woman. You don’t understand her at all.”

“I don’t care whether she’s ordinary or not — if she can’t have children, she cannot marry you.” Madam Shi’s tone was severe. “Now even if you object, nothing can be changed. The date has been set and cannot be altered. Your grandmother is eagerly waiting to bring good fortune to the Marshal. I’m warning you — don’t go stirring up any more trouble. If you do, you’ll have to reckon with the consequences yourself.”

After Madam Shi left, Shi Guang sank listlessly into his chair. He knew clearly that everything was beyond recovery.

He was greatly trusted by the Marshal right now, and might soon be promoted to Young Marshal. At such a critical juncture, he could not afford to take a single misstep.

He could go to the Marshal to argue, or stake everything to preserve his engagement to Yan Qing — but as Madam Shi had said, the consequences of doing so were beyond what he could bear.

A map hung on the wall, divided into several sections by thick red strokes. He knew that he could not allow himself to be consumed by personal matters. His true ambition should be this vast and magnificent land.

At that moment, he actually felt a little envious of Shi Ting — perhaps only someone with no ties could act without restraint.

Seeing Shi Guang looking so distracted and lost, Qiucao’s eyes turned and she stepped forward to console him. “Second Young Master, if you like Sixth Miss, it’s not as though there’s no way.”

“What way?” Shi Guang asked without energy. In his heart, all hope for this marriage had been extinguished.

“Fifth Miss is a legitimate daughter — you can marry her as your wife. But Sixth Miss is a concubine-born daughter whose reputation has suffered due to the broken engagement. If you were to take her as a concubine, that wouldn’t be inappropriate either.”

Shi Guang narrowed his eyes, then they brightened. “That actually makes some sense.”

“Sisters married to the same man is nothing unusual throughout history — it has even been praised as a fine tale. For Sixth Miss to be able to marry Second Young Master, even as a concubine, would be her honor.”

Shi Guang stood up and gave Qiucao a slight smile. “You are occasionally quite useful.”

“It is my duty to share Second Young Master’s concerns.”

Shi Guang pinched Qiucao’s chin. “Very good.”

“However, Second Young Master must not rush. For now, you should focus on completing the marriage with Fifth Miss as soon as possible. Afterward, you can ask Madam to act on your behalf — she dotes on Second Young Master most of all and will naturally help you plan.”

Shi Guang felt Qiucao’s words were very sound. Even though his heart was burning with impatience, he forced it all back down.

In any case, Yan Qing was right there — she wasn’t going anywhere. Sooner or later, she would be his.

~

In the early morning, Shun Cheng was covered in a light mist — not heavy, drifting sparsely through the air.

Along the roadside, street vendors selling breakfast had set up their stalls: some making wonton soup, some frying oil sticks, others selling fried cakes and noodles.

Liu Cui had risen very early. She left the house without even eating breakfast. She worked for a wealthy household, going there each morning to prepare breakfast and in the evenings making dinner, then tidying up the house a little before knocking off and heading home.

The household she worked for was headed by the director of the Zhongqi Bank. After his wife passed away three years ago, he had lived alone in this two-story building.

Liu Cui took out her key, unlocked the door, and changed into slippers. Seeing no one in the sitting room or the washroom, she guessed that Director Song had not yet gotten up, so she went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

By the time she finished making breakfast, it was already half past six in the morning. Usually at this hour, the director was already sitting at the dining table.

Liu Cui waited another five minutes without seeing the director come downstairs, so she went up to the second floor. The second floor had three rooms: the director’s bedroom, a study, and a storage room.

Liu Cui knocked on the bedroom door. There was no movement from inside.

“Mr. Song, Mr. Song — it’s time to get up.” Thinking he was a heavy sleeper, she knocked harder.

After knocking repeatedly for a while, she happened to glance toward the doorway of the study.

Because the corridor light was dim, she seemed to see a red liquid seeping out from beneath the gap under that door. She steeled herself and walked closer for a better look, and immediately let out a sharp scream.

Liu Cui tried to push open the study door, but it was locked. She scrambled around until she found the key and unlocked it. Inside, the curtains were drawn, and with insufficient light, nothing could be seen.

When she switched on the electric light, she saw Director Song collapsed in a pool of blood. His face was a bloody, mangled mess, and the crimson blood ran from his face all the way down to the soles of her feet.

“The deceased is Song Zixian, director of Zhongqi Bank,” Bai Jin said, camera in hand as she photographed the scene. “Age 43, living alone. His wife died of illness. He has one daughter and one son.”

Song Zixian had fallen in front of the study desk, head pointing north, feet pointing toward the window.

The curtains were drawn tightly shut. The window latch showed no signs of forced entry. According to Liu Cui, the study door had also been locked — she needed a special reverse-lock key to open it.

Song Zixian’s hand gripped a pistol, the barrel of which was inserted into his own mouth. His face was severely distorted, nearly unrecognizable.

“Seventh Brother,” E’Yuan said, looking at the body. “Let’s call my mentor over. I think this might be a case.”

“Not a suicide?” Bai Jin was puzzled. “A sealed room, the deceased shot in the mouth — this looks like a classic suicide scene to me.”

“Just a gut feeling,” E’Yuan said.

Shi Ting considered. “Send someone to bring Yan Qing here.”

The deceased was Song Zixian, director of the main branch of Zhongqi Bank — the nation’s largest bank, which played a vital role in Shun Cheng’s economic development. The sudden death of the Zhongqi Bank director would inevitably shock those at the highest levels; this could not be handled as an ordinary case.

If it was ultimately proven that Song Zixian had taken his own life, all would be well. But if he had been murdered, this would be an extremely troublesome case, and the Military Police Division would face pressure from both superiors and the public.

Song Zixian’s residence was not far from the Yan Family mansion. Twenty minutes later, Yan Qing arrived at the scene. By this time, examination boards had already been laid across the floor of the ground level, and Bai Jin was leading two officers in lifting fingerprints from the scene using carbon paper and tape.

In the study, Yan Qing saw the body of Song Zixian. He had fallen in front of the desk, his head stained with blood. The curtains that had previously been drawn shut were now pulled open, and sunlight flooded the room in a brilliant glare.

When Shi Ting saw her, his gaze instantly softened. “I’m troubling you again.”

“So polite?” Yan Qing smiled. “What’s the situation?”

“The scene looks like a suicide.” Shi Ting said. “The doors and windows are all locked, and no signs of a third party’s presence have been found. However, I have a few points of doubt.”

Shi Ting walked to Song Zixian’s body and pointed at the leather shoes on his feet. “The deceased is wearing a blue sleep garment, but has a pair of leather shoes on his feet. Ordinarily, no one would dress that way at home.”

“We found this at the scene.” Shi Ting picked up an evidence bag containing a golden bullet casing. “After comparing it with the gun in Song Zixian’s hand, the casing was fired from this weapon.”

Shi Ting walked to a nearby wall. “This is where the casing was found. It and the location where the deceased was shot form a straight line.”

“Doesn’t that just prove the bullet was fired from inside the deceased’s mouth?” a junior officer interjected.

“There are no impact marks anywhere around where this bullet was found.” Shi Ting said. “When a bullet hits a wall, it leaves a mark — some bullets embed directly into the wall, some fall, even ricochet. “

“Maybe the bullet didn’t hit the wall and dropped straight to the floor?”

“If that were the case, it would be even harder to explain.” Shi Ting said. “Theoretically, a bullet’s trajectory should align with the barrel axis. But due to air resistance, gravity, and the gun’s own construction and precision, it cannot travel in a perfectly straight line — especially when this bullet passed through a skull. If we were to conduct a ballistics test, the projectile absolutely would not land in this position. Simply put, this position is too ‘precise’ — precise to the point of looking as though someone deliberately placed it there.”

“You suspect it’s a murder?” Yan Qing immediately understood.

Shi Ting nodded.

“Let me examine the body first.” She wheeled her chair over to the body.

While Yan Qing examined the body, Shi Ting’s attention was drawn to the overturned medicine bowl on the desk.

It was a white ceramic bowl with a small amount of medicinal liquid still remaining inside. He held it up to his nose and sniffed, then passed it to Yan Qing. Her nose twitched slightly. “Fennel and soybeans.”

“What illness is that for?”

“A folk remedy for treating high blood pressure.”

Song Zixian was on the heavier side and frequently attended social functions — it would be no surprise for him to have hypertension.

Shi Ting called for housekeeper Liu Cui. Liu Cui had received quite a fright, and it had taken some coaxing from two officers to calm her down somewhat.

“Sir, I didn’t kill anyone.” Liu Cui said as soon as she saw someone in uniform. “I found the director collapsed on the floor and ran downstairs to phone the police.”

“Don’t worry,” Shi Ting said. “If you didn’t kill anyone, we won’t falsely accuse you. Please cooperate and answer a few questions for me.”

Liu Cui nodded.

“Did Song Zixian have high blood pressure?”

“Yes. Mr. Song was diagnosed with high blood pressure three years ago. He tried many medicines but none helped. Recently, a doctor recommended a remedy — he said eating soybeans and fennel could treat it. I grind the soybeans into powder, add fennel, and boil it together. The master drinks a bowl every evening.”

“A full bowl?”

“Yes.” Liu Cui said. “I boiled a full bowl and brought it up yesterday. Because it was too hot, the master always waited until it had completely cooled before drinking it.”

“What time did you bring the medicine?”

“Eight-thirty. I get off at eight-thirty — it’s the last thing I do before leaving.”

“Before you left, did anyone come by?”