The night lay heavy. The incense had long since burned to ash, and its fragrance hung stale and close. The Widow Liu lay on her bed, unable to sleep for a very long time.

When she closed her eyes, her thoughts could not help but drift. For the past several days, the authorities had not appeared at her door again. Everything seemed calm on the surface — peaceful and undisturbed — yet whenever she went out, she always had the feeling that someone was watching her from behind. When she turned to look, there was never anyone there.

The Widow Liu could not stop second-guessing herself. Had the authorities found out? How much had they discovered? They had not come to question her — what were they waiting for?

The Widow Liu swung between suspicion and desperate hope. Perhaps, she kept thinking, this had truly blown over.

Ever since Ming Huashang had left, the Widow Liu had been living in this cycle of suspicion and self-denial. Any small sound or movement set her on edge, and matters were made worse still by the child’s illness that dragged on and on with no improvement. Through the prolonged, grinding torment, the Widow Liu’s nerves were growing worse by the day — she had even started to experience hallucinations over the past few days.

The uncertainty of walking on a hair’s breadth, never knowing when it would snap beneath her feet, was almost enough to drive her mad. Especially now, in the dead of night, when all was silent around her and yet in her mind it was as though a dozen voices were arguing at once. The Widow Liu tossed and turned for a long while, then forced her eyes open in bitter stubbornness — thinking, almost with spite, that the authorities might as well come drag her away. Even that would be better than the psychological torment of right now.

A gust of night wind swept through, setting the bed curtains rippling; the cold crept in like a rising tide. The Widow Liu rubbed her arms, puzzled. Had the maid forgotten to close the window before leaving? Why was there a draft?

She got up to latch the window. Tonight, for some reason, the window was unusually difficult to shut. The Widow Liu shoved it into place with effort, and frowned: “What has gotten into these maids — they cannot even be bothered to close the window when they leave?”

She was still muttering as she turned back — and let out a short, sharp cry, slamming her back hard against the window.

The bedroom door had opened, at some point, without her noticing. Three dark figures loomed in the doorway. One was dressed in black, wearing an official’s hat, its face — if it could be called one — completely black and indistinguishable; it held a set of chains. The other was dressed in white, holding a feather fan, a long tongue protruding from its mouth, startlingly vivid against its pallid face.

They stood in the doorway, their robes drifting without any wind to stir them. Most unsettling of all was what they held between them — a figure with blood streaming from every orifice, its robe hem hanging empty and hollow below the waist, deeply eerie.

What was this? The Black-Faced Spirit and the White-Faced Spirit? A wronged soul come demanding retribution? She had brought a Taoist priest in to perform an exorcism — how had these things still found her?

The Widow Liu’s legs buckled beneath her on the spot. She summoned the last of her composure: “Who is playing ghost here?”

The figure in the middle stepped forward, arms trembling as it reached toward her: “Beloved wife — do you not recognize me?”

The White-Faced Spirit with the pallid complexion and the red tongue furrowed its brow and glanced sideways. Was that line in the script? Jiang Ling was already improvising additional lines for himself?

The Widow Liu too was briefly knocked off balance by the words “beloved wife.” Her brow drew together with faint unease: “Who are you?”

Jiang Ling felt someone give his lower back a savage pinch. His eyes flew wide open, and he forced himself to hold back the pain. This time there was no need to pretend — his voice naturally came out quavering and unsteady: “Liu, my love — the judge told me that someone lodged a grievance against me three years ago. I have incurred a debt of blood. I am to be cast into the Uninterrupted Hell, doomed to be boiled and fried in oil. Only a life-for-a-life can spare me the ordeal. Liu, my love — you and my son are my nearest and dearest kin. Save me!”

The Widow Liu frowned, taking in the scene at the doorway with careful eyes. Clearly she was already growing suspicious. Ming Huashang thought in alarm: this is going wrong — and urgently signaled with her eyes.

Ming Huazhang stood against the wall not far away, all but blending into the darkness. Honestly, he very much wanted to pretend he could not see anything — but at this point, if Ming Huashang and the others failed to draw out a confession after all this theatrics, or worse, were exposed on the spot, the Jing Zhaoyin would only lose more face.

He could only sigh, accept his fate, and pick up the prepared props.

Ming Huashang caught the response and felt a great wave of relief. With a deep, mysterious sweep of her sleeve, a wind sprang up from nowhere, sending her white robes billowing and snapping — eerily, ghostly. She stood in the wind gripping her feather fan, her expression utterly blank, and intoned: “The hour has come. The Ghost Gate opens. Qian Yi — it is time for you to go.”

As she spoke, a cluster of green light appeared at their feet, giving the impression that they might rise up on it at any moment. The figure in the center seemed to be torn by some invisible force — blood began to flow suddenly from all seven orifices. In pain and desperation, it reached toward the Widow Liu: “Liu, my love — save me! The judge says your natural lifespan stretches sixty more years — please, give your life to save mine!”

The Widow Liu was overwhelmed by this extraordinary spectacle and shrank back hard. When terror pushed past its peak, a person could not even scream — she trembled all over, her teeth chattering: “No! You faithless wretch — why should I shorten my own life for you? Get away from me!”

Ren Yao, watching from a commanding height, gave a subtle hand signal, then channeled the inner strength of a trained warrior into the chains, rattling them with a crashing sound — as though some invisible force was pressing down from above. Jiang Ling struggled against restraints that did not exist, his face contorted: “You did this to me — you made me owe this life debt! It is your fault! Give it back to me — give it back!”

The Widow Liu let out a piercing scream, clapping both hands over her ears: “Lies! You were the one who first proposed killing him so we could be together forever — what does it have to do with me? You are the one who first proposed it — if anyone is going to hell, it should be you!”

Ming Huashang heard the Widow Liu confess to the killing and was overjoyed. She was just about to give Jiang Ling the signal that things had gone far enough — when Jiang Ling, seized by his performance instincts, kept dramatically struggling while advancing into the room: “How could you be so cold-hearted! Hell is freezing — I am taking you and the child with me!”

The Widow Liu had already been on the edge of mental collapse these past days. With the ghost pressing closer and closer, she was pushed to her limit. She grabbed whatever was near her, not even looking at what she picked up, and hurled it at the doorway. Jiang Ling was deep in his performance and had no warning — a dark shape came flying at him, and he cried out before he could stop himself, catching a feather duster squarely in the face.

The Widow Liu went still. The Black-Faced and White-Faced Spirits went still. Even the inexplicable breeze drifting through the corridor went still.

Ming Huazhang, who had been manually generating the wind and the green light, pressed his fingers to his temple. He felt a genuine headache coming on.

The Widow Liu stood frozen for a moment, then snapped back. What ghost would get hit by a feather duster? And besides — even with blood plastered all over the face making the features unrecognizable, Qian Yi had never been this tall.

Someone was playing a trick on her!

The Widow Liu grabbed the windowsill and pulled herself upright, fury flooding in: “Someone get in here — intruder!”

That single cry from the Widow Liu shook the whole building. Sounds of shuffling immediately stirred throughout Jinxiu Tower; lights kindled in window after window. Ming Huazhang let out a quiet sigh, gripped his sword, and rose straight to his full height.

His bearing was upright and powerful; even in a night-raid outfit, he remained like a wall of white jade — formidable and clear. He walked to the center of the corridor, faced the many rooms of Jinxiu Tower, and announced in a calm, resonant voice: “There is no need to pursue anyone. There is no intruder. I am Ming Huazhang, Deputy Jing Zhaoyiin of the Jing Zhaoyin — here to investigate a case.”

The building appeared still, but every door and window had been pulled open a crack; countless eyes peered from behind the gaps. When the Widow Liu saw Ming Huazhang, her expression changed utterly. She knew that whatever she had said just now, Ming Huazhang must have heard every word. She was not about to give in so easily and be taken — and if she was going down, she intended to drag a court official down with her.

The Widow Liu gathered her thin sleeping robe around her, tilted her chin slightly downward, and said: “Deputy Jing Zhaoyiin — this concubine is currently a widow, and a widow alone. I was unaware the Deputy Jing Zhaoyiin would be coming. What brings him here so late at night?”

A court official paying a night call on a widowed woman — word of that getting out would ruin even the most promising career. Yet Ming Huazhang, under the scrutiny of all those unreadable eyes, remained entirely composed. His posture was like jade. He gripped his sword and turned, presenting her with his profile — though his eyes were not on her, the Widow Liu still felt a crushing pressure that could split mountains and brook no opposition.

“I was remiss in not sending notice in advance — the fault is mine. However — are those the words you wish to speak before all these witnesses, Madam Qian?”

The Widow Liu let out a cold laugh, unmoved: “This subject was sleepwalking just now and may have said something incoherent. Can a person be convicted on the strength of words spoken in a dream?”

Ming Huazhang stood at the boundary of light and shadow; in profile, his features seemed carved at the line between yin and yang — righteousness and elegance, cold severity and quiet beauty, each perfectly balanced with the other. He turned his gaze to her slightly, his eyes burning dark and bright, cutting with a clarity that left nothing to hide behind: “Heaven’s net is wide and yet lets nothing slip through. Whether or not you confess — I will keep investigating. Even if it takes ten years, or twenty, I will find the proof. I will convict those who deserve conviction, and I will punish those who deserve punishment. Whether you confess or not only affects the severity of your sentence.”

“Confess of your own accord, and in consideration of the child, your sentence may be reduced. Remain obstinate and wait for the Jing Zhaoyin to find the evidence — and the only thing awaiting you is the death penalty. Have you thought about what becomes of a child with no mother to protect him?”

·

The guest room was lit warmly. A maid set down a cup of tea, and on her way out she could not help but steal a glance to the side.

Three oddly costumed figures were sitting in the corner — one with a white face, one with a black face, and one with blood all over its face. At first glance, it was quite unsettling.

Except the one covered in blood was pulling at the White-Faced Spirit’s elongated tongue and laughing uproariously.

Eerie and terrifying, yet somehow also faintly absurd, and faintly bewildering. The maid’s expression grew distant and dreamy. Was this really how the authorities conducted their investigations these days? So… unconventional?

Ming Huashang gave Jiang Ling’s hand an impatient slap and began settling her account with him: “Why did you not stick to the plan? You nearly ruined the entire operation — do you understand that?”

“If not for my improvisation, would she have confessed so easily?” Jiang Ling was entirely unrepentant, made a face, and blood began leaking from his seven orifices again. He played with it for a moment and said: “The Gui family’s devices are something else — well worth their reputation as people who make a living off the dead. Give me that tongue — I am taking it to scare people with later.”

Ren Yao, at her limit, grabbed Jiang Ling’s ear and twisted: “You still have the face to say anything?”

Jiang Ling was wrenched nearly sideways, baring his teeth: “Let go, let go — there is a witness being questioned right there — you are disrupting the court!”

Xie Jichuan rubbed his face mask and quietly moved himself further away from those three idiots.

Ming Huashang noticed and asked curiously: “Elder Brother Xie, why do you carry a face mask on you?”

“It was not a habit before.” Xie Jichuan leaned with crossed arms against the room divider, coolly: “Since getting to know all of you, it has become one.”

“Quiet.” Ming Huazhang breathed in deep and reminded himself to keep emotion from his face — to have patience and magnanimity. He pressed his knuckles together with force, suppressing the urge to chase this band of demons and monsters out of the room, and addressed the situation in as steady and calm a voice as he could manage: “Widow Liu — you said that killing the man was Qian Yi’s idea first. What happened exactly?”

The Widow Liu kept her face lowered, indifferent: “Exactly as you suspect. I killed Innkeeper Feng. With Qian Yi dead now, whatever I say is a dead man’s word with no one to dispute it. What is the point in you going through the motions, Lord Investigator?”

Ming Huazhang ignored her hostility and pressed on: “Why did you kill him?”

The Widow Liu wore an outer robe loosely draped over her shoulders. She tilted her gaze up to look at Ming Huazhang and laughed softly: “Lord Investigator — you are young and talented, rising fast. I imagine you have no way of understanding how far someone at the bottom of society will go just to survive. I was a lowly fisherwoman with a passable face — and once I had clawed my way onto a high perch, I had the gall to want love on top of it. I deserved to be looked down on. Even a kitchen maid thought herself better than me.”

Ming Huashang asked: “So three years ago, when you found love and respect in Qian Yi, you took a desperate gamble and killed Innkeeper Feng so you and your lover could be together?”

The Widow Liu said nothing. Her expression went blank and disdainful — as though she could not be bothered. Ming Huashang nodded, then deliberately said: “I understand. So after the marriage, when Qian Yi grew colder and colder toward you — and even betrayed you by keeping a mistress on the side — that was why you were so furious that you killed him?”

“I did not!” The Widow Liu suddenly flared up. She met the eyes of those around her and looked away again with studied indifference, her voice sardonic: “Your lordships have already decided my guilt. What more is there for me to say? Kill one husband or two — either way it is death. Do as you like — whatever you think, that is what it is.”

“It matters.” Ming Huazhang said, steady and unhurried. “I will not spare those who are guilty — but I will not lay upon someone a punishment that does not belong to them. I am asking you again: did you kill Qian Yi?”

The Widow Liu blinked hard, forcing back tears. She still used her most careless tone: “No. If I had been capable of making explosives this powerful, I would not have needed to go to so much trouble when I killed Innkeeper Feng.”

Ming Huashang’s attention sharpened instantly: “How did you kill Innkeeper Feng?”

“With medicine.” The Widow Liu said. “He had a heart condition and needed to take medicine every day. I replaced the aconite root in his prescription with an inferior grade — intending to kill him slowly. But it was too slow. Innkeeper Feng had already noticed me and Qian Yi. I was afraid the delay would cost us, so I had Qian Yi go to the West Market and buy a large quantity of highly toxic aconite, mixed it all into the medicine, and then lured Innkeeper Feng into drinking it. Shortly after he drank it, he began to convulse. I covered his mouth to keep him from making any noise. After a time, he went still. I waited through the night and called for help the next day.”

Ming Huazhang asked: “How did you know aconite was toxic?”

That she could even tell the difference between aconite prepared too briefly — which caused a slow death — and aconite that would cause immediate, violent collapse, and could be disguised as accidental.

The Widow Liu pressed her lips together, averted her eyes, and said: “Physician Chu Ji told me.”

Ming Huazhang raised his brows, genuinely taken aback: “Huichun Hall’s Chu Ji?”

The Widow Liu nodded — which was as much as admitting it. This made things even stranger. Xie Jichuan, who had been silent this whole time, spoke: “He was a renowned physician throughout Chang’an. Why would he risk his reputation for the sake of a tavern keeper’s wife?”

Chu Ji was already dead, and the Widow Liu had nothing left to conceal. She said flatly: “Because I had seen him kill someone.”

The room was startled into silence. A cold glint passed through Ming Huazhang’s eyes. He asked in a low voice: “Who did he kill?”

“His apprentice. Song Yanbo.”

Ren Yao and Jiang Ling both looked bewildered — another unfamiliar name appearing out of nowhere. But Ming Huashang thought of it at once. When she had gone to examine the Huichun Hall scene, she recalled that one of the medicine boys had indeed mentioned the physician once had a senior apprentice who died in an accident while preparing medicines.

Ming Huashang stepped in: “But the medicine boy clearly said that the senior apprentice died from not taking sufficient precautions while processing herbs — poisoned by the medicine itself.”

The Widow Liu let out a derisive laugh, a cold smile on her lips: “An accident? A physician with three generations of medical knowledge, who knew every pharmacological detail — disguising a murder as an accident would be effortless.”

“Murder?” Ming Huazhang fixed his gaze on her, and asked: “How did you know?”

The Widow Liu let out a long breath, shifted her position, and leaned back against the armrest. She spoke slowly: “That was six years ago.”

“At that time, I was still a lowly fisherwoman. One day, Physician Chu’s wife had ordered some fish from me. The next morning I carried two fresh live fish and hurried to deliver them to Huichun Hall — only to find no one inside. My customer had not paid yet, and I could not leave, so I waited in the kitchen. I was not careful and leaned into the woodpile and fell asleep. Later, I was startled awake by voices. I crept over to look, and found two people arguing in the medicine workshop at the back — an old man and a young man. The young man had his back to me and I could not see his face — but I could clearly see the old man slipping a large quantity of powder into a half-drunk bowl of herbal brew. In the end, the old man pointed at the young man and cursed him for ‘betrayal’ and ‘coveting the family’s secret prescriptions’ before storming off. The young man downed the rest of the brew in anger. Not long after, he began to convulse. I was frightened out of my wits and fled as fast as I could. The next day, I heard that the revered physician’s beloved disciple had died from a poisoning accident while preparing medicine — Physician Chu was devastated with grief at the loss. And so I understood: even a physician of great virtue and high standing could kill out of envy. We are all the same — equally petty and ordinary. No one is better than anyone else.”

Ming Huashang was scrambling for something to write with, and in the end simply dabbed a finger across the blood on Jiang Ling’s face and quickly wrote the key words down on her costume. Ming Huazhang caught a glimpse of Ming Huashang and Jiang Ling’s exchange and pressed his lips together, forcing himself to look away. He asked: “And then? Did you report it to the authorities?”

“Report it?” The Widow Liu gave a short laugh of contempt: “Why should I have? Would the authorities offend a physician famous throughout Chang’an on behalf of a lowly fisherwoman like me? And would the dead man’s estate be divided up and given to me? Oh — he was just a poor student with nothing to his name. There was even less reason to bother.”

Ming Huazhang asked: “What happened after that?”

The Widow Liu said with a detached ease: “Lord Investigator, you have already worked it out — why ask me? Naturally, things followed from there: I fell into luck when Innkeeper Feng took a liking to me, reinvented myself as Madam Feng, and went on to be faithless and unfaithful. I used what I knew to coerce Physician Chu into helping me commit a murder.”

“Did he help?”

“No.” The Widow Liu said. “He did not trust me, and I did not trust him either. All he told me was that his prescription contained aconite, which could be used to kill if the root was insufficiently processed — and that even if anyone discovered it, it could be passed off as an accident. He would not provide the medicine himself — he told me to find it on my own.”

Xie Jichuan slowly nodded to himself from the side: “So each of you held the other’s secret but without any proof. Neither could expose the other. A very clever arrangement.”

The Widow Liu smiled faintly, and tilted a glance from her reclining position toward Xie Jichuan: “Many thanks for the young lord’s compliment.”

Today’s questioning at the Widow Liu’s had turned up enormous progress. Ming Huazhang rose to his feet and inclined his head: “Thank you for your cooperation, Madam. I have one final question: from whom did you purchase the medicine?”

“I have no idea.” The Widow Liu answered without hesitation. “I am a woman — what would I know of the world outside? Everything was brought back by Qian Yi.”

“He never told you where the medicine came from?”

“Never.” The Widow Liu said. “Innkeeper Feng had long since handed all the purchasing and delivery at Jinxiu Tower to him — he had every connection available. Innkeeper Feng trusted him fully, so why should I not?”

Ming Huazhang nodded. There was nothing more to ask. He raised his hand — gracious as ever, composed and courteous even now: “Madam — you are suspected of the murder of your first husband. By law, you must be taken into custody. Please come with us.”