Hui An led the two of them through the main hall and into a small courtyard at the rear. The courtyard was not large, but it was kept clean and tidy.

“This is where Hui Yuan lived in her lifetime.”

“Since her passing, no one has occupied this courtyard,” Hui An said. “But someone comes by regularly to clean it.”

Yan Qing noticed that all the other courtyards around them were filled with trees, flowers, and greenery, yet this particular courtyard had not a single blade of grass or leaf to its name. Curious, she asked: “Why is there nothing growing in Venerable Hui Yuan’s courtyard?”

“Hui Yuan was allergic to pollen and floral scents, so her courtyard had no plants.”

The three of them entered the small courtyard. Apart from the furniture and decorations still in place, it had been stripped of everything else.

“After Hui Yuan’s death, all her belongings were burned along with her,” Hui An explained.

“And this piano?” Yan Qing noticed a piano resting near the window inside the room, draped in a white gauze cloth.

“Hui Yuan had a profound love of music and never ceased composing throughout her life. This piano was originally to be burned as well, but in the end it was kept.”

“Hui Yuan once took on a young female disciple, is that right?”

Hui An nodded. “She was a small girl who had come to the nunnery with her family to offer incense. For some reason she wandered off and found her way into Hui Yuan’s courtyard. She heard Hui Yuan playing the piano and was fascinated. Hui Yuan also took a liking to the girl and gave her a brief lesson in finger technique. To everyone’s surprise, the child was extraordinarily gifted — she grasped it immediately. Hui Yuan felt a bond of fate between them and mentioned it to the girl’s family, who agreed to send her here to study the piano.”

“What was the little girl’s name?”

“She was called Ling’er.”

“Does the abbess remember anything about her family?”

“I only recall that each time she came for her lessons, she was brought by a woman of forty or fifty years — dressed in plain working clothes, clearly a servant. The girl’s family only came once themselves. I never met them properly and have no real recollection of them. Hui Yuan and they were only acquainted in passing.”

“Does the abbess know Ling’er’s family name?”

Hui An shook her head. “Hui Yuan only ever called her Ling’er. Beyond that, I don’t know much.”

“When did Ling’er stop coming?”

“After Hui Yuan’s death, she never came again. That would be more than ten years now, which means she must be in her mid-twenties by now.”

Yan Qing and Shi Ting exchanged a glance.

So even Hui An knew nothing of this Ling’er’s origins. And the only person who had known — Hui Yuan — was already dead.

Ling’er was Qian Lan. And where Qian Lan had lived before returning to the Qian family, and who she had come into contact with, proved entirely impossible to investigate. The woman seemed to have appeared from nowhere, every inch of her shrouded in mystery.

Just then, a long rumble of thunder rolled across the sky. Moments later, dark clouds came tumbling in from not far away, and a cold, gusting wind set the great trees beyond the courtyard swaying violently. Before long, heavy drops of rain came crashing down from above, pooling rapidly into murky puddles on the bare earth of the ground.

“It’s raining,” Shi Ting said, glancing at the sky. “That came on fast.”

“The mountain weather has always been like this,” Hui An said. “Even a few clouds can bring a torrential downpour. By the look of this rain, it won’t stop anytime soon. Dusk is falling as well. Both of you are welcome to rest here on the mountain for the night — I’ll have someone prepare a clean and comfortable room for you.”

Shi Ting saw that the rain was coming down in sheets, and that setting off down the mountain now would be unwise. He thanked Hui An and made arrangements with Yan Qing to stay the night.

Hui An sent a young novice to show the two to a guest room at the back. As it was neither a festival day nor a day of prayer, the nunnery had few visitors staying, and what few there were had been unable to leave because of the rain.

Shi Ting stood at the window, watching the rain pour down in curtains outside. The courtyard grounds below were a sea of mud.

Yan Qing came up from behind and stood beside him, looking out alongside him.

“With Hui Yuan dead, the trail to Qian Lan’s past has been cut off.”

Shi Ting said: “With only the name Ling’er to go on, tracing her family will be no easy matter.”

“Indeed.” Yan Qing stretched out a hand to catch the rain. The faintly cool drops fell into her palm, quickly soaking it through.

“Qing Qing, do you think Hui Yuan was killed by someone?”

“I never saw the body — it’s only speculation.” Yan Qing withdrew her hand and shook the water from it. “Actually, if we were to find Hui Yuan’s grave and exhume the body for examination, the truth could be found. But doing that now would clearly serve no purpose. Ling’er was only a small child at the time — she could not possibly have committed murder. I believe Hui Yuan’s death had nothing to do with her.”

“Hui Yuan was most likely killed by the First Madam,” Shi Ting reasoned. “She would have been the only one with motive.”

As the two spoke, the sky had gradually grown dark.

That evening, a young novice brought their dinner — two vegetable dishes and a soup, all meatless. Though simple and plain, the food had been prepared with considerable skill and tasted delicious.

Yan Qing asked the young novice: “Is there a waterfall somewhere in the back mountain?”

The novice answered: “Yes, there is a waterfall in the back mountain. On days without rain, you can just faintly hear it. But now with all this rain, you can’t make it out.”

“Then tomorrow, if the weather clears, could you take us to see it?”

The novice found Yan Qing pretty and warm in manner, and felt a natural fondness for her. She offered a kind warning: “Patron, I can take you there tomorrow. But please, do not wander at night. Things have not been peaceful in this nunnery of late.”

“Not peaceful?” Yan Qing blinked. “Has something happened?”

The novice wore an expression as though she wished to speak but dared not. She did not explain, only shook her head: “Just take it to heart, patron. Whatever you hear in the night, do your best to ignore it.”

As Yan Qing lay in bed that evening, the novice’s words kept running through her mind. She turned to Shi Ting. “Could this nunnery be haunted?”

Shi Ting laughed and pinched her cheek. “Could it be that the great forensic physician Yan still believes in ghosts and spirits?”

“Did you see how mysteriously that young novice spoke? What else would you call it besides a haunting?”

“This is Baiyun Nunnery — the deities enshrined here are all divine immortals. What ghost or demon would dare make trouble in a place like this?” Shi Ting pulled her into his arms. “She was simply trying to frighten us.”

Yan Qing thought of the look of genuine fear in the novice’s eyes and felt, in her gut, that this was not so simple.

“I’m not afraid in any case — I have my husband to protect me.” Yan Qing nestled into Shi Ting’s arms and wrapped herself around his waist, then closed her eyes contentedly.

The two lay entwined in bed. Outside, the rain drummed steadily against the window panes. The night was noisy in its way, yet somehow made for the easiest sleep.

Yan Qing drifted off and had been asleep for some unknown stretch of time when a peculiar sound jolted her sharply awake.

She opened her eyes to find that Shi Ting had already woken. His eyes were deep and alert, listening intently to something.

Noticing that Yan Qing had stirred, he made a hushing gesture.

Yan Qing sat up and tilted her own ear, listening carefully.

The rain had gradually softened, so the sound came through with unusual clarity.

It was a piano.

Because of the distance, the notes drifted in and out, carrying with them a quality of mournful longing. On this rain-drenched night, the sound was unspeakably eerie and chilling.

The longer Yan Qing listened, the more familiar it seemed, and she could not help but exclaim softly: “That’s ‘Love Unreachable.'”

This piece, “Love Unreachable,” had been composed by Hui Yuan herself. It had become wildly famous when performed by a popular singer of the day, and even now it could still be heard sung in dance halls.

“It seems to be coming from the courtyard where Hui Yuan once lived,” Shi Ting said, his voice very low. “Do you remember that piano?”

“Someone is playing ‘Love Unreachable’ in Hui Yuan’s courtyard?”

The thought made even Yan Qing’s skin crawl.

No wonder the young novice had urged her again and again: if you hear anything in the night, act as though you heard nothing.

Yet on a night as desolate as this, to suddenly hear the most famous piece of a dead woman drifting out from the courtyard where she had once lived — no one could be expected to simply let that pass.

“I’ll go and look,” Shi Ting said, putting on his outer coat and getting out of bed.

“I’m coming with you.” Yan Qing quickly followed.

The two took an umbrella from beside the door and stepped outside. The moment the door opened, a blast of cold air carrying rain rushed in.

The wind against her skin made Yan Qing shiver involuntarily. Her arm instinctively looped through Shi Ting’s.

She was a forensic physician. She did not believe in the supernatural. She believed that all such “hauntings” were the work of living people.

The two picked their way through the mud to the courtyard where Hui Yuan had once lived. But before they had even drawn close, the piano notes stopped abruptly. Only the soft patter of rain remained in the air.

They had no lantern and could only feel their way forward through the darkness. As they reached the courtyard gate, a shadowy figure suddenly flashed from within the yard.

Shi Ting immediately set off in swift pursuit.

“Be careful,” Yan Qing called out urgently.

Shi Ting moved fast and was swallowed by the darkness in moments.

Yan Qing stepped quickly into the courtyard — but both courtyard and room were empty.

After a short while, she heard footsteps approaching through the rain. Shi Ting had returned.

Alongside Shi Ting was a young novice nun, soaked through to the bone. Yan Qing recognized her at once — it was the same novice who had warned her earlier that day, the one called Jing Xin.

“Was it you in the courtyard just now?” Yan Qing asked, a slight frown crossing her face.

Jing Xin had not expected to be caught by Shi Ting and Yan Qing. She explained: “This piano music sounds every time it rains. I grew too curious and decided to investigate myself — I never imagined running into the two of you.”

“It wasn’t her,” Shi Ting said, apparently already reading Yan Qing’s thoughts. “When I found her, she was soaked through. If she’d been sitting inside playing the piano, she wouldn’t be drenched like that.”

Jing Xin nodded vigorously. “I don’t know how to play the piano at all.”

“Then who do you think was playing?” Shi Ting asked.

—