Like the vast majority of cities in the Tang Kingdom, the Eastern Capital adhered to the traditional layout of wealthy north and impoverished south. Luobei — the northern city of Luo — bordered the Imperial City, and was largely home to the nobility, aristocracy, and officials. Land prices and elevation alike were considerably higher than in Luonan, the southern city. Every inch of ground was worth its weight in gold. Unlike the distinctly unconventional Hua Family, ordinary merchants simply did not have the financial means or social standing to purchase land and build residences here.

The Eastern Capital, as the foremost of the Tang Kingdom’s five great capitals, drew merchants from across the entire country and the wider world. The sheer number of wealthy individuals was remarkable. Since their social status barred them from settling in Luobei, the next best option was to find the most favorable locations in Luonan — and the thirteen wards immediately south of the Luo River, separated from Luobei by only a stretch of water, were the most coveted. Three waterways cut through this area, offering excellent transportation links, and the geomantic conditions were considered exceptional. The district had gradually become the Eastern Capital’s most well-known enclave of prosperous households.

The thirteen wards stretched from Yanqing Ward in the east to Huihe Ward in the west, bounded to the north by the Luo River and to the south by the South Market. Each ward was roughly half the size of a standard ward, with a comparatively low population density and uniformly large, spacious residences — comparable, by way of analogy, to the riverside villa districts of a modern metropolis. Children of the Eastern Capital had been reciting this nursery rhyme since they were small: “Thirteen wards, six zones of land, four rivers and nine waterways at the very heart. East is Yanqing, where the sun rises bright. West is Huihe, where the clouds burn red at night. Water from the north brings rolling wealth. Light from the south shines from the great market’s mouth.”

Fujiao Ward occupied the central area of these thirteen wards — a location that was, it had to be said, quite intriguing. This particular ward had more than eight hundred and thirty-six households, over seventy percent of which were foreign nationals who had obtained Tang Kingdom residency, with Persian merchants making up the majority. The moment the ward gates opened, one was met with a sea of blue eyes and blonde hair, all clad in Tang-style garments and wearing tall felt caps, the air filled with a cacophony of Persian and accented Tang Chinese mingled together. Sitting in the carriage looking out, Lin Sui’an had the distinct and surreal sense of being on an overseas tour.

The men Ling Zhiyan had brought were all elite officers from the Court of Judicial Review — fifty strapping, capable men, led by Ming Feng and Ming Shu in disguise. They had changed into civilian clothes, abandoned their horses in favor of carriages, and departed in staggered groups to attract less attention. Ling Zhiyan himself had changed into ordinary clothing: a black robe, a black scholar’s headband, a white jade belt, and short leather boots — the very picture of an aristocratic young gentleman.

The person designated to receive Ling Zhiyan was the ward headman of Fujiao Ward. Each ward in the Eastern Capital had one headman, supported by two clerks, who was responsible for managing household registrations, overseeing agricultural cultivation, inspecting unlawful activity, collecting taxes, mediating neighborhood disputes, and other day-to-day affairs — roughly equivalent to a combined neighborhood committee chair and local tax official. The position was generally filled by a person of high standing and respected character, chosen by ward residents.

To Lin Sui’an’s considerable surprise, this ward headman was a Persian man by the name of Tatargan. He was approximately thirty years old, with golden hair braided into ornate plaits bound with silver thread and coiled atop his head. His golden horseshoe moustache had been waxed, its curled ends folded inward to form two neat little rings — a style so firmly fixed that a gale of ten on the Beaufort scale could not have dislodged it — and he spoke Tang Chinese with a more authentic accent than Lin Sui’an.

Ling Zhiyan did not mention outright that he was investigating a series of murders. He said only that he was looking for someone to assist the Court of Judicial Review with inquiries. Tatargan listened to the description and his brow furrowed into a deep knot. “Investigator Ling, to speak frankly — of the eight hundred and thirty-six households in this ward, well over half match your requirements. Where on earth would we even begin to look?”

“You only need to provide detailed household registration records and have someone show us the way,” Ling Zhiyan said. “Both those on the register and those off it.”

Tatargan agreed readily, dispatched a clerk behind him to go and fetch the records, and then let his gaze drift across the several carriages behind Ling Zhiyan — two sweeping passes — before falling silent, hands clasped behind his back, eyes darting about.

Jin Ruo peered through a crack in the carriage window and muttered, “Why do I get the feeling this ward headman has the look of a weasel about him?”

Hua Yitang: “The ward headman is the person most familiar with the affairs of this ward. Everything he says is an attempt to deflect and delay. He is definitely hiding something.”

Jin Ruo’s eyes lit up. Clutching the little beggar boy, he pushed open the carriage door. “I’ll go have a wander about.”

“Jin Ruo,” Lin Sui’an called after him. “The killer’s household may contain female relatives — possibly accomplices.”

Jin Ruo paused, gave a brief nod, and jumped down from the carriage.

Hua Yitang and Fangke turned to look at Lin Sui’an simultaneously.

Lin Sui’an: “I once read about a series of murders and sexual assaults — the perpetrators were a husband and wife. The wife, who was heavily pregnant, lured young women back home in an effort to keep her husband’s affections, and then, after her husband had violated them, helped him kill the women.”

Fangke’s dry eyelids twitched. Hua Yitang drew a sharp breath, tapping his fan tip rapidly against his temple. “A woman…”

Fangke said nothing for a moment, then reached into the large wooden chest and produced nine small ceramic vials sealed with red wax, which he lined up in a row on the seat. Lin Sui’an was so startled that she spun around and squeezed herself in next to Hua Yitang. Hua Yitang shrank back into the corner of the carriage, staring wide-eyed. “Elder Fang — are these vials from your earlier visit to Baochuan Mausoleum and the mass graves—”

“From each of the nine corpses, I cut away a small piece of facial skin and left it to soak in these overnight. The timing should be about right now.” Fangke pulled out one of the stoppers, examined it, then gave it a sniff. “There is a faint floral fragrance — sweet and cloying. Would either of you care for a whiff?”

Hua Yitang’s head shook so fast it became a blur. Lin Sui’an had been fairly curious about what liquid could be inside those tiny vials, but stopped herself from asking. Her sixth sense told her it was better not to know.

Fangke looked faintly disappointed as he replaced the stopper. “While I was previously studying the popular erotic publications circulating in the Eastern Capital, several of them mentioned a particular fragrant balm — applied to a woman’s lips, it turned them as pink and soft as flower petals, carried a sweet and aromatic scent, had a rich, yielding texture, was long-lasting in color, and, with prolonged use, supposedly produced a remarkable anti-aging effect. It was said to be a tribute item from overseas. Due to its popularity, a similar face powder and blush were also released. For reasons unknown, however, this extraordinary fragrant balm abruptly vanished from the market approximately five years ago.” Fangke raised an eyebrow. “Does this not sound familiar?”

Hua Yitang: “It bears a strong resemblance to the aromatic substance I found in the case files — the one reportedly capable of keeping fruits, vegetables, fish, and shrimp fresh.”

Lin Sui’an: “Could they be made from the same base ingredient?”

“This fragrant balm was priced far beyond the means of ordinary women,” Fangke said, replacing the vials one by one into the large wooden chest. “I am going to pay a visit to Hongqiao Ward.”

It was, Lin Sui’an thought, a genuinely promising line of inquiry. If the fragrant balm truly worked as described, the headliners and courtesans of Hongqiao Ward would certainly have spared no expense acquiring it. With luck, a small remaining stock might be traced — which would be a significant lead indeed.

“Do wait a moment, Elder Fang.” Hua Yitang leaned out of the carriage window, produced a purse of gold leaf, and tossed it over. He paused. “Do take care of yourself!”

Fangke gave Hua Yitang an inexplicable look, then swept away in a flash of red.

Lin Sui’an shot Hua Yitang a sideways glance. Hua Yitang patted his chest with his fan, heaving the sigh of an old man. “Elder Fang is still quite unworldly and lacks a way with words. Going alone into that place is walking into the lion’s den — Hua Yitang is deeply worried, deeply worried indeed!”

Lin Sui’an: “……”

I refuse to believe a word of it! She had seen his poorly concealed smile. If he hadn’t been otherwise occupied at this moment, this man would have followed along just to watch Fangke embarrass himself. Though, now that she thought about it, Lin Sui’an tried to picture the stone-faced Fangke being surrounded by a crowd of seductively beautiful courtesans — heh. She rather wanted to go and watch the spectacle too.

Tatargan’s dispatched clerk returned presently, bringing back two boxes of household registration scrolls. The first box contained the cases selected according to Ling Zhiyan’s criteria — households with male members of the appropriate age, engaged in commerce, in possession of a boat and carriage, and with large residences. This amounted to more than three hundred households, a staggeringly large number that gave no indication of how long the investigation might take. The second box contained households provisionally excluded from suspicion: households whose male members were away from home for long periods with only female relatives and children remaining, households whose owners were conducting business elsewhere with only elderly servants left behind, and over a dozen empty foreign-owned residences whose occupants had returned abroad for the approaching end-of-year celebrations.

Ling Zhiyan came aboard the carriage and had a brief discussion with Hua Yitang, laying out a rough search strategy and route, before leading the team out in a hurry. Lin Sui’an had intended to go along, but Hua Yitang held her back, tilting his head meaningfully toward the ward headman outside.

True enough, though Tatargan appeared to cooperate fully on the surface — dispatching his only two available clerks and four constable-runners to assist Ling Zhiyan — he himself had claimed pressing business to attend to and had not gone along. The moment the Court of Judicial Review’s men moved off, he quickly slipped away from the crowd and ducked into a narrow alley near the ward gate.

Lin Sui’an exchanged a glance with Hua Yitang, slipped out of the carriage, and followed silently behind. Tatargan moved at a brisk trot, frequently glancing back with considerable caution, weaving left and right through the narrow winding lanes. Lin Sui’an dared not follow too closely, yet could not afford to fall too far behind. The pursuit was grueling. She was led on a winding course through twisting alleys for several long circuits, but at last she emerged, and watched as Tatargan entered a courtyard residence. Unable to follow any further, she could only stand watch outside the gate.

Less than a quarter of an hour passed before the courtyard gate opened and five or six men in foreign-style clothing emerged, each wearing a large felt cap, walking hunched over. They scattered in an instant, fanning out in different directions, leaving Lin Sui’an completely caught off guard. She was still deliberating which one to follow when several figures suddenly burst from the shadows and gave chase. One of the retreating figures looked oddly familiar — Lin Sui’an recognized the silhouette as Tianshu, one of the Seven Stars.

Pure Gate Sect members. Lin Sui’an relaxed, thought it over, and decided to stay put rather than move.

Another quarter of an hour passed before a figure emerged from the courtyard wearing a Tang-style long robe, a bamboo hat, and a pair of thick-soled sheepskin boots. Lin Sui’an recognized the boots as Tatargan’s — and her heart leapt. The more suspicious this man’s behavior, the more incriminating it was.

Perhaps feeling he was now safe, Tatargan slowed his pace considerably and blended into the foot traffic without attracting a second glance. Fujiao Ward’s four main streets intersected in a grid pattern, threaded through by numerous smaller lanes and alleys, and Tatargan moved with evident purpose, frequently switching routes and directions — south, then north, east, then west — and somehow, throughout his entire passage, not a single Court of Judicial Review officer crossed his path. No doubt the constable-runners he had assigned to guide the search team had deliberately left gaps in the coverage.

After roughly a quarter of an hour, Tatargan arrived before a residence in the eastern district of Fujiao Ward. It was one of the rare small-fronted properties in the ward — a single-panel black lacquered wooden gate, no guardian stone beasts flanking the entrance, the courtyard walls towering high. Lush greenery filled the interior, and the crown of a tall poplar tree spilled over the wall, casting its shadow across half the street. Among the leaves were scattered a few small white blossoms.

Tatargan knocked four times — three short, one long. Then he leaned close to the gate and murmured something. The wooden door creaked open a narrow crack, and he slipped through sideways. The door swung silently shut behind him.

Lin Sui’an glanced around in all directions. The location was secluded, with almost no passersby. The opportunity was too good to miss. She leapt up, scaled the wall, and dropped into the poplar tree on the other side, crouching in the fork of a branch to survey the courtyard below.

It was a three-courtyard garden compound with at least twenty or more rooms of varying sizes. Tatargan had entered through the rear side gate; the front entrance presumably faced the main street. The owner appeared to have an appreciation for elegance — a tasteful rear garden had been built at the back, complete with trees, flowers, rockery, and a small pool. The compound was quiet in a way that struck her as odd. Lin Sui’an watched from the tree for some time and could not spot a single soul. Tatargan had vanished entirely — perhaps he had gone along the corridor toward the front courtyard, or perhaps he had entered one of the side rooms.

Having come this far, it seemed a waste not to have a look around.

Lin Sui’an dropped from the tree, sprang off a piece of rockery, and pulled herself up onto the roof of the covered walkway. The corridor was exceptionally well-crafted — a double-tier, enclosed perimeter circuit that could access virtually every part of the compound. Lin Sui’an lowered her center of gravity, lightened her footfalls, and moved like a leaf swept up in a swift wind, skimming along the corridor roof. She completed a circuit of the rear garden first, then the middle courtyard, then the front. She swept through every side room — and after a full circuit of the entire compound, she had not found so much as a ghost, let alone a person. She was genuinely puzzled. Failing to find anyone else was one thing, but Tatargan too seemed to have vanished without a trace.

In moments like these, Lin Sui’an keenly felt the absence of a mobile phone. If she could have called Jin Ruo right now for backup—

Then suddenly, something clicked in her mind — she recalled the connected underground tunnels that had led to the murder site during the Yangdu serial killing case. Could this compound too be a decoy, concealing a hidden passage to another location somewhere within it?

The more she thought about it, the more plausible it seemed. She jumped down from the corridor at once and began searching the area, and indeed — near the side rooms of the middle courtyard — she discovered traces of footprints. Their direction led straight to the main hall of the front courtyard. Following the prints, she reached the area in front of the main hall — where the gravel floor gave way to wooden planking — and there, lacking Jin Ruo’s exceptional tracking skills, she lost the trail entirely. Lin Sui’an scratched her head, feeling a little deflated.

As expected — specialized skills must be left to specialists. Tracking was a highly advanced technique she simply could not master.

Then, at that precise moment, a click sounded from behind her. The tightly shut doors of the main hall swung open, and Tatargan came charging out, babbling frantically in what sounded like a mix of languages, followed closely by a long procession of people hefting boxes, carrying poles on shoulders, and lugging burlap sacks — an enormous, jostling crowd of Hu tribesmen, Tang Chinese, and a great number of Persians.

Lin Sui’an blinked. She could barely believe her own eyes. Tatargan and the whole entourage froze completely.

A gust of wind swept through. The large wooden doors of the main hall groaned on their hinges.

Tatargan’s voice suddenly shot up an octave in a shrill scream: “She’s from the authorities — seize her!”

Lin Sui’an bared her teeth in a grin and spun Qian Jing through a flourish.

Well, well. After this stretch of misfortune, luck had finally decided to pay her a visit.