The Feng Family private school was located in Yangguan Ward, bordered on the east by the official river and separated from the government compound by only a single wall, sitting on the same latitude as Liuhua Ward where Hua Family’s residence stood. Its grounds were so vast that even two Liuhua Wards could fit within them — a clear testament to its towering significance in Yangdu.

Yet the Feng Family private school at this moment stood utterly deserted: its hundred-odd teachers and thousand-odd students had all fled, and the place was as empty as a gate before which no visitors came. Only two constables guarded the entrance, and even they did not dare block Hua Yitang — the group walked in without any obstruction, and found the immense courtyard within cold, wind-swept, and desolate.

“Why is this godforsaken place so unsettling?” Jin Ruo muttered, rubbing his arms.

“When it was full of people it didn’t feel this way — now that it’s empty, it truly is uncomfortable,” Mu Xia said. Behind him, over a dozen Hua Family attendants wore equally pale expressions.

Lin Sui’an surveyed the surroundings. The private school’s overall architectural style matched the underground school in the rice shop — but on a far grander scale, with artificial hills, garden courtyards, and even a small man-made lake. With just the few of them, searching such a place for bodies buried over years would be like hunting for a needle in the ocean.

Hua Yitang, however, appeared to already have a clear plan in mind. He led everyone through the front hall and middle hall, through the covered walkways, and straight into the back garden, where his gaze fixed on a four-story pavilion tower rising before them, its sweeping eaves and black columns imposing and grand. Hua Yitang led everyone up the tower to its highest floor, and surveying all sides from the railing, murmured: “At the Qi Xi Festival in the fifth year of the Xuanfeng Reign, Feng Family private school held a poetry gathering. Elder Pei the Seventh and I wandered here on a whim, intending to enjoy the view from a great height — but Feng Yuyi and his group came rushing over, and without a word of explanation set upon us. I thought nothing of it at the time, only that Feng Yuyi was being his usual unreasonable self. Thinking back on it now, there must have been something amiss here —” Hua Yitang muttered quietly, “What was he trying to hide?”

Lin Sui’an followed his gaze over the scene below: the garden was lush and splendidly arranged, with ponds, artificial rockeries, small bridges, and peculiar stones scattered throughout. The landscape design displayed clear intention — at first glance it seemed to follow some particular system of geomantic arrangement, though with Lin Sui’an’s store of knowledge, she genuinely could not begin to name it.

Hua Yitang’s little fan moved faster and faster, and his murmuring grew faster too: “Supreme Yin at Yin, Red Bird at Mao, Hook-Bringer at Zi, Dark Warrior at Xu, White Tiger at You, Azure Dragon at Chen… therefore the divine spirit shifts once every four or five days, responding to the three with the five…”

Lin Sui’an blinked. What on earth is he talking about? It sounds terribly impressive.

Suddenly, Hua Yitang’s fan stopped. He shook his head repeatedly. “No, no, that’s not it.”

Lin Sui’an: “…”

Hua Yitang began fanning again: “One, three, seven, nine occupy the four cardinal positions — one is the sovereign, in the north, symbolizing the ruler who faces south; three and seven are the ministers and generals, in the east and west… two, four, six, eight occupy the four diagonal positions… That’s not it either — not the Nine Palaces of the Celestial Disk.”

Lin Sui’an: What exactly is this person doing?!

Jin Ruo: “Does he actually know what he’s doing?!”

Mu Xia quietly gestured to the attendants behind him. “Go back to Hua Family’s residence and bring more people.”

One attendant grimaced unhappily. “How many people?”

“As many as possible.”

The attendant acknowledged the order and withdrew.

Lin Sui’an and Jin Ruo exchanged twitching glances. Hua Yitang swapped to yet another set of references: “Could it be a terrestrial board system? The two equinoxes and two solstices occupy the four cardinal positions… That doesn’t line up either. Nine Fields? The Twenty-Eight Lunar Mansions? The Eight Extremities? The Eight Winds? The Northern Reaches of the Great Wastes? No, no…”

Jin Ruo: “Has he read too many books and scrambled his brain?”

Lin Sui’an: Ha.

“In the trigram Li there is brilliance, and all things illuminate each other… battle at Qian, Qian is the trigram of the northwest… Kan is water…” Hua Yitang muttered through another long string of incomprehensible things, and then his eyes sharpened to a point. With a sharp snap, the fan closed. “Such endless dithering, such hesitation — this is absolutely not Hua Family’s way of doing things. Mu Xia!”

Mu Xia: “At your command, Fourth Young Master.”

Fourth Young Master raised the folding fan high overhead and brought it sweeping downward, commanding with magnificent force: “Dig the whole thing up!”

Jin Ruo: “…”

Lin Sui’an: “…”

In the end, Hua Yitang fell back on the strategy of overwhelming numbers. Fortunately, Hua Family’s residence was nearby, and the number of attendants was staggering — in less than half an hour, over a hundred people had been assembled, wielding hoes and iron spades, digging up the earth three feet deep, determined to overturn every last inch of the garden. The garden was vast, however, and the digging was slow going. After a full hour of hard, roaring labor, the thing they were looking for had not been found — but Ling Zhiyan had arrived.

“Fourth Young Master Hua, are you planning to reduce the Feng Family private school to dust?” Ling Zhiyan stood in the middle of the devastated back garden, eyelids twitching.

Hua Yitang fanned himself in leisurely strokes. It was nearly noon; the sun blazed fiercely down, and a faint sheen of sweat had gathered at his temples. By contrast, Lin Sui’an seemed untouched by the sunlight entirely — her eyes were dark and deep, her complexion pale, and there wasn’t a single drop of perspiration on her.

In truth, Lin Sui’an was not merely free from heat — she was cold, and growing colder by the moment. It was a chill she could not quite describe. With every additional stretch of ground that was dug open, the cold grew heavier. She could not tell whether the chill was rising from beneath the earth or from somewhere inside herself. The noon sunlight did not seem to reach her — only from Hua Yitang at her side radiated a faint warmth, enough to keep her from going completely numb.

Ling Zhiyan sighed. “What exactly are you looking for?”

Hua Yitang lowered his fan: “Ling the Sixth — have you heard of ‘white livestock’?”

Ling Zhiyan paused: “White what?”

“You haven’t heard of it,” Hua Yitang said, looking at Ling Zhiyan steadily. Then he gave a single nod. “Good.”

Ling Zhiyan: “What are you talking about?”

“Found something! There’s something here!”

Far across the garden, a hoe could be seen thrusting above the surface and waving frantically — the person must have descended into the pit. The onlookers nearby all surged over at once, but upon glimpsing what was inside the pit, scattered back just as quickly.

“You’re the timid one — stay here. I’ll go look.” Lin Sui’an gave Hua Yitang a brief instruction and strode over quickly. Behind her, Hua Yitang called something after her, and Ling Zhiyan’s voice sounded as well — Lin Sui’an caught none of it. She moved fast, arriving at the edge of the pit in moments. Everyone pulled the attendant out of the pit with hands and arms working together. The pit was deep — roughly the height of a person — and roughly four feet in diameter, enough to hold two or three people.

Lin Sui’an jumped in. Beneath her foot came a crack — she had stepped on something. She bent down and picked it up: a slender, fragile piece of white bone, appearing to be a child’s rib. Lin Sui’an crouched and swept the ground — and a bone-cutting chill drove into the tips of her fingers, very close to the sensation she felt when her body slipped from her control. Her fingers trembled. Compelled by something beyond reason, she raised her head and looked around.

Embedded into the walls of the pit were dense clusters of skulls — small skulls, unmistakably children’s — their eye sockets packed full of black earth, as though a multitude of dark pupils were looking at her, silently.

“Eeeee — Hmmm —”

A piercing ring, sharp as a steel needle driving into the brain. White light like ten thousand slicing blades tore through her field of vision. Lin Sui’an’s hands flew out blindly and caught the wall of the pit — she lost control and slid, collapsing to her knees. Consciousness felt as though it were being yanked by some irresistible force, pulling free of her body at terrifying speed. Before her eyes, the white light faded and great darkness took its place — and then, in that darkness, a trace of fragrance wrapped around her: an expensive, rich, fruit-blossom scent. The darkness parted, and in it she glimpsed Hua Yitang’s bright, luminous eyes.

“Lin Sui’an! Lin Sui’an!”

Her hearing returned for a single moment. Beyond Hua Yitang’s frantic cries she heard Ling Zhiyan’s voice carrying from somewhere distant: “What did you just say?! Administrator Zhou…”

All the noise receded from her, growing remote. Lin Sui’an closed her eyes, and fell again into darkness.

Lanterns glowed softly and floated high above, drifting in the wind. The river below mirrored their light, rippling and glittering. A warm hand held hers tightly. Laughter and chatter brushed past her as a cheerful crowd swept by. She looked up and caught a glimpse of half a smiling face.

“Little Ying’er, hold on tight — there are so many people. Don’t get separated. Which lantern do you like? A’niang will buy it for you.”

The light of the lanterns blinked out. A thread of sunlight fell on her small, chubby hand, which held a soft, warm steamed bun. Outside the window stretched a continuous sweep of mountain ranges. Someone sat across from her — a pair of large hands gently tousled the top of her head and said:

“San Niang, eat well and you’ll grow nice and tall. A’Ye will go up the mountain tomorrow and catch you a rabbit to play with. Would you like that?”

Light and shadow shifted. An oil lamp swayed. She lay tucked in a warm blanket, the embers in the brazier glowing and dancing. Two silhouettes sat at the table — a woman sewing a garment, a man working an abacus.

“Si Niang turns ten tomorrow — we can’t keep dressing her in old clothes.”

“Tomorrow we’ll trade out some of the shop’s stock. Get Si Niang a new skirt. I’ve seen the other girls all like pomegranate skirts — they’re beautiful.”

Mist rose in the night. The sharp smell of medicine flooded her nose. An empty medicine bowl sat on the table. She was being cradled in someone’s arms, rocking gently to and fro.

“Er Niang is so brave — she didn’t even cry after drinking the medicine. Tomorrow A’niang will buy candied fruit for you. Little brother will have some too, Er Niang will have some too. Shall we all eat together?”

She was rocked and rocked, until the ceiling became the narrow walls of a boat cabin. The creak of oars was her lullaby, and a woman’s voice, soft and honeyed, sang a gentle song, swaying with the murmur of water.

“The Jiuchu River flows clear and bright, A’niang’s baby has eyes full of light. Watch the sun sink behind the eastern hill, listen to the birds singing on the mountain still. Fish return to the pond, frogs hide beneath the lotus, and A’niang’s baby must come home too —”

The morning glow spread its first golden scales across the sky. She pushed open the door and ran out, her small hands cradling a little bowl of soft-steamed cake.

“Brother! Brother! Brother! Brother!”

A hurrying young man turned his head. The strands of hair at his temple, blown loose by the wind, caught the gold of the morning light.

“Brother has already eaten. Have it yourself, Xiu’er.”

“A’Ye said studying is hard work. Brother should eat it.”

“All right. When brother comes home tonight, we’ll eat it together.”

“Brother always says that and then stays away for ages…”

“This time, brother promises to come back early.”

“Then brother has to smile, and Xiu’er will believe him.”

“Why does Xiu’er always ask brother to smile?”

“Because brother is handsome, and Xiu’er loves watching brother smile the most.”

The young man bent down and lightly patted the top of her head. Morning light fell into the young man’s clear eyes, beautiful as a painting.

Lin Sui’an opened her eyes. She looked up at a high ceiling and ornate latticed windows — Hua Family’s style. Her eyes were terribly dry. The pillow behind her ear was soaked through.

“Doctor Yue, come quickly, look at her — she’s wrong, something’s wrong!” Jin Ruo burst through the door in a frantic rush, pulling a not-particularly-pleased Doctor Yue along with him. “She just kept crying! It was terrifying!”

“I told you before — Lin Niangzi is simply exhausted. A proper night’s sleep will set everything right — oh, and she’s awake already?” Doctor Yue said. “How did you sleep?”

Lin Sui’an sat up and touched the corner of her eye. The tears had long since dried — not a trace remained.

“Did you… have a nightmare?” Jin Ruo asked carefully.

Lin Sui’an paused, then shook her head. “It was not a dream.”

What she had seen were the final lingering attachments of those children — the things they had held most dear in this world.

Through everything so cruel and devastating — their last thoughts had remained so warm, so pure.

“You know,” Jin Ruo complained, “why do you go jumping into pits full of dead people for no reason? Then you just fall asleep, and then you start crying out of nowhere, and Hua Yitang wasn’t even here — you scared me half to death…”

Lin Sui’an: “Where is Hua Yitang?”

“Ling Zhiyan pulled him away to investigate the case. When he left, he told me and Doctor Yue at least ten thousand times to take care of you — he was fussier than a little old grandmother.”

“What case?”

The memories from just before she lost consciousness began to drift back. A sense of foreboding rose in Lin Sui’an’s chest.

“Administrator Zhou was poisoned to death — quietly, without a sound, right there in the prefectural office study,” Jin Ruo said. “By dove poison!”

Lin Sui’an’s mind went blank with a sudden ringing.

Fragments surged into her thoughts: the bamboo slips of the Ten Cruelties, Dong Chao’s riddle, Yan He’s severed head, Chen Zhu’s charred remains, the hidden chamber in the underground school, the layers of white bones in the Feng Family back garden, the memorial tablets in the fruit shop, the dim lamplight of the records hall — and beneath that lamplight, a face utterly devoid of expression — gradually overlapping with another face she had seen within the golden finger’s memories.

Lin Sui’an threw herself out of bed and demanded sharply: “Where were the remains found in the Feng Family private school buried?”

Jin Ruo blinked and pointed northward. “Yumeiren Mountain.”

Yangdu was crisscrossed with waterways and the climate was humid. The terrain sloped high in the north and low in the south, and the northern districts were drier and more pleasant to live in, giving rise over time to a pattern where the wealthy lived in the north and the poor in the south. The northern reaches of Yangdu were prized above all, particularly Yumeiren Mountain north of the outer city walls — with three waterways winding around its base and rich, lush vegetation covering its slopes, it was considered a place of prime geomantic fortune, divided up and claimed by powerful families to build ancestral burial grounds and secure blessings for their descendants.

Lin Sui’an had slept for two full days and nights. During that time, with Hua Family’s formidable wealth, manpower, resources, and sheer efficiency, they had chosen a site on Yumeiren Mountain, interred the remains, and erected a burial mound. Because so many sets of bones were all mingled together with no way to identify who was who, they could only be buried together. Hua Yitang had personally composed the epitaph, and had even engaged eminent monks to perform rites and pray for the peaceful passage of the departed souls.

The burial mound was on Golden Gate Peak, the most auspicious site on Yumeiren Mountain — and only an endeavor as lavish as Hua Family’s could afford it. When Lin Sui’an found the burial mound by following the map, night had already fallen. Looking down from the summit of Golden Gate Peak, one could see the ten thousand lights of Yangdu city — the Mingshui River, the Dongshui River, and the Huanya River, three waterways descending like the Milky Way falling from heaven to earth, brilliant and boundless.

Lin Sui’an was not the first to arrive. Someone had come before her. That person wore a wide white mourning robe, a white mourning band at the head, one hand resting on the tombstone, gazing at the place where the night sky met the earth below.

The wind rose from the mountain’s foot, tangling the branches at the top of the cypress tree beside the burial mound, drawing from it a low, mournful keening.

Lin Sui’an let out a quiet breath and spoke: “I could never understand — that day, Dong Chao was only a moment away from killing me. Why, at the crucial instant, did he lose his concentration? I thought at first it was because he panicked when he saw Administrator Zhou arrive with crossbowmen. But thinking back on it now — he lost his focus because he saw the person he had been waiting for. The last person Dong Chao looked at was not Hua Yitang. It was you — concealed behind Hua Yitang, mixed in among the yamen clerks.”

“I had not expected the first person to come would be you,” the man’s voice rose and fell with the wind. “I assumed it would be Hua Yitang, or Ling Zhiyan.” He turned around. “When did you first begin to suspect me?”

“From the very first moment I saw you,” Lin Sui’an said.

“Why?”

“Because —” Lin Sui’an paused, genuinely finding it hard to say aloud. “You are too handsome.”

Unexpectedly, this made him laugh — a long, light smile, with the mourning band floating in the moonlight, white as snow.

“The way you say that — it sounds very much like her.”

“She was your younger sister. Her name was Xiu’er, wasn’t it?” Lin Sui’an took a step forward and lowered her voice. “Qi Yuansheng.”

I know you all have already guessed it.