Only one day had passed since the autumn examinations of the Liang Dynasty, yet the case of the death in the examination compound had already spread throughout every street and alley.

It was said that there was a poor scholar who had lost his father early and depended on his mother for survival. His mother killed fish at the fresh fish market to make a living, supporting her son in his pursuit of scholarly fame. This son had a photographic memory and could compose essays with ease—he was naturally a top scholar candidate, yet after taking the examinations for over ten years, he still failed to pass. It wasn’t until his mother died that this son learned from somewhere that for many years, the imperial examinations in the capital had been rigged through collusion between Ministry of Rites officials and wealthy families, causing his rightful scholarly achievements to be deliberately delayed!

The poor scholar, filled with grief and indignation, poisoned himself in his examination cell. Before dying, he caused such a commotion that it alarmed the authorities into a thorough investigation, and only then did outsiders learn of this scandal.

Yet this scholar’s life was already over, but even in death he could not rest in peace. When officers from the Court of Judicial Review went to search the scholar’s home, they encountered neighbors and relatives who had come to help with the funeral arrangements. When the two groups met, they started fighting. Some fellow examination candidates had seen this scholar’s final poetry composition, and someone wrote it out on paper and scattered it all over the streets—

“Tragic is the fate of scholars, studying hard without knowing fatigue. Reading until eyes grow dim, holding brush until hands grow callused… Ten attempts for one degree, fame always comes too late. Even those who achieve office have temples turned to silver threads…”

“Pitiful are the days of youth, spent in poverty and lowliness. When a man grows old and sick, what use is wealth and status… Deep in vermillion-gated mansions dwell milk-toothed children. Looking like women, with bright skin nourished on fine grain…”

“Hands never holding books, bodies never wearing armor. At twenty inheriting noble titles, family gates receiving hereditary honors… Daily outings when spring comes, clothing so light and luxurious. Morning drinks with gamblers, evening appointments at pleasure houses…”

“Selling titles to pay gambling debts, piling gold to select beauties. Beyond music, women, dogs and horses, they know nothing else… Mountain saplings and valley pines, terrain follows high and low. Since ancient times nothing can be done, you are not alone in sorrow…”

Mountain saplings and valley pines, terrain follows high and low!

This poem spread overnight from the Hanlin Academy above to the rouge alleys below. The flower houses and tea shops on both sides of Luo Yueqiao turned this incident and poem into theatrical pieces performed everywhere.

The officers from the Court of Judicial Review wanted to arrest people, but the law cannot punish the masses—everyone was spreading it, everyone was talking about it. They couldn’t arrest everyone in the capital—the jails at the Criminal Justice Department wouldn’t have enough room!

This poem even reached the palace.

The anger of scholars might seem insignificant individually, but gathered together it burned like raging fire, difficult to extinguish. Poor scholars from various academies gathered together to block censors’ sedan chairs in the streets, and memorials flew like snowflakes to the emperor’s desk.

The emperor had already heard rumors about examination fraud. Now with such a major scandal in the imperial examinations, losing face and feeling deceived and mocked by his ministers, he flew into a rage and ordered a thorough investigation. The Vice Minister of Rites was immediately stripped of office and imprisoned. As the investigation continued, it reached Judicial Review Official Fan Zhenglian—

In the Fan residence, chaos reigned everywhere. Maids and servants wailed together. Zhao Shi tightly gripped Fan Zhenglian’s arm and asked frantically, “Master, what is happening?”

The search team had arrived at the gate, with Prince Ning personally overseeing the imperial order. Fan Zhenglian still had guests dining in his residence, but seeing this scene, they scattered like birds and beasts.

Officers blocked the front and back gates for security. Just one day ago, Fan Zhenglian had ordered his subordinates to search Scholar Wu’s home at the temple entrance, trying to suppress this matter. Yet in such a short time, their positions had completely reversed.

His heart trembling, he approached Prince Ning who was executing the imperial order, pleading in a low voice: “Your Highness, Your Highness, His Majesty is…”

Things hadn’t yet reached the point of confiscating the entire estate—there was still hope for a turnaround. Prince Ning always maintained the appearance of a kindly old man. Hearing this, he only consoled gently: “Minister Fan need not be anxious. His Majesty only asked this prince to examine your household assets.” While instructing his people to search and inventory, he said to Fan Zhenglian: “Only Minister Fan must accompany this prince to the Criminal Justice Department. Please rest assured, Minister—it’s just for questioning. You have always been upright and honest. Once the interrogation is clear, we will certainly restore your good name.”

“Oh, by the way,” Prince Ning remembered something else, “the Vice Minister of Rites has already confessed his crimes and is imprisoned. You are only temporarily detained, so no need to worry.”

His voice was gentle, his tone carrying a smile, yet it struck like thunder from a clear sky, leaving Fan Zhenglian unable to recover for a long moment.

The Vice Minister of Rites had actually confessed!

How could it be so fast?

He and the Vice Minister of Rites had been secretly colluding for years. Once the Vice Minister was imprisoned, how could he alone escape unscathed? Moreover, why was it the Criminal Justice Department and not the Court of Judicial Review? Prince Ning spoke of temporary detention, but the implications were clear—Fan Zhenglian’s good days were over!

He looked up and vaguely saw a golden, glittering celestial ladder in the void gradually crumbling to dust, like a heavy coffin lid crashing down heavily upon his head.

“Master, Master—”

Behind him came Zhao Shi’s panicked wails.

Fan Zhenglian’s eyes rolled back white, and he collapsed unconscious.

…

Since the examination candidate’s suicide by poison in the compound, new developments kept coming one after another.

First, they discovered the Vice Minister of Rites had secretly colluded with examination candidates’ families, brazenly facilitating proxy test-taking and fraud in the compound. The Vice Minister of Rites was imprisoned. Later, even that famous “Judge Fan the Blue Sky” of the capital was implicated.

It was said that Court of Judicial Review Official “Judge Fan the Blue Sky” was the one who had colluded with the Vice Minister of Rites, using the autumn examinations to amass wealth and line his own pockets.

Fan Zhenglian had quite a good reputation in the capital, so when this news came out, most people refused to believe it.

At the medical clinic, Du Changqing was moving the wooden signboard from outside indoors. The sky was overcast and gloomy—it was about to rain.

He said: “That Judge Fan the Blue Sky—a man who manages criminal justice—managed to extend his reach into the examination compound. Quite capable indeed.” He then asked Lu Tong for information: “Didn’t you go to his house before to deliver medicine to his wife? How come you didn’t notice he was that kind of beast?”

Lu Tong replied: “The truly honest have no reputation for honesty. Those who establish such reputations are corrupt.”

Du Changqing rolled his eyes: “I don’t understand.”

He placed the signboard on the counter and glanced at the felt curtain in the inner quarters, moving closer to Lu Tong: “Speaking of which, what’s really going on between you and Rongrong?”

Lu Tong followed his gaze to where the felt curtain hung motionless between the courtyard and inner quarters. She pressed her lips together and said nothing.

Xia Rongrong had been avoiding Lu Tong these past few days.

Previously, when there were no patients at the clinic, Xia Rongrong would do embroidery work in the shop while chatting with Lu Tong. Recently, when Lu Tong was on duty at the clinic, Xia Rongrong and her maid would often go out, returning only when it was late, hardly conversing with Lu Tong.

Anyone with eyes could see she was avoiding Lu Tong—even Du Changqing had noticed.

“Did you two quarrel?” Du Changqing looked at her suspiciously. “That doesn’t seem right either. With your temperament, you don’t seem like someone who could get into arguments.”

Yin Zheng passed between them, pushing Du Changqing aside with a smile: “Shopkeeper Du shouldn’t pry into young ladies’ thoughts—you wouldn’t understand anyway.”

Du Changqing snorted: “I’m too lazy to pry anyway.” He called for A’Cheng to go back. Before leaving, he reminded Lu Tong: “It’ll probably rain tonight. Close the doors and windows properly—be careful not to let the medicinal herbs get wet.”

Lu Tong agreed. After Du Changqing left, she closed the clinic’s main door and returned to the courtyard.

It was already lamp-lighting time. Autumn days grew dark early. Xia Rongrong’s room showed lamplight, a dim yellow glow seeping through the window cracks onto the stone courtyard floor.

Lu Tong returned to her own room.

Yin Zheng was rummaging through the trunk for clothes for Lu Tong to wear out tonight. Autumn had come too early to the capital—seemingly turning cold overnight. Autumn clothes hadn’t been made yet, and all the old clothes in the trunk seemed too thin.

Lu Tong stood before the small Buddhist shrine, facing the white porcelain Guanyin statue, found incense and lit it.

In the dimness, the burning incense flickered like ghostly eyes in a graveyard, bright and dim alternately. She inserted the incense into the shrine.

Yin Zheng finally found a white cloak, shook it out a few times in the lamplight, then glanced at the dark sky outside the window and sighed deeply: “It’s about to rain again.”

Lu Tong stared at the Guanyin statue before her and spoke softly, unclear whether to herself or others: “Isn’t rain good? Rain on phoenix tree leaves at the third watch… I love rainy days most of all.”

Yin Zheng was startled, but Lu Tong had already turned around and taken the cloak from her hands.

“Let’s go.”

…

The autumn rain was desolate in the night.

Misty mountain rain wove itself into a dense net between heaven and earth, heavily enveloping the entire mountain from top to bottom.

At the foot of Mount Wangchun, someone wearing a straw raincoat walked with heavy and light steps alternately on the muddy mountain path.

Cold wind cut across his face like knives. Liu Kun tightened his raincoat, his lips pale from the mountain cold.

He didn’t understand how things had come to this.

The whole family was still dreaming of “two successful sons in one household,” but overnight everything had turned upside down.

In the final session of the autumn examinations, a student had committed suicide by poison in the compound, causing such a commotion that it drew court attention. This then exposed the scandal of Ministry of Rites collusion with candidates for proxy test-taking. All related persons were arrested for questioning, including those high-ranking officials.

Liu Kun couldn’t understand how the death of just one poor scholar could cause such an uproar and bring down so many people simultaneously.

The family’s entire savings—1,600 taels of silver scraped together through frugal living—had gone down the drain. More frightening still, Liu Zixian and Liu Zide had also been taken away by officers.

The case pulled up radishes and brought out mud. Catching Liu Zide for proxy test-taking in the compound wasn’t enough—even Liu Zixian’s examination results from years past were dug up. It was said that account books from the Vice Minister of Rites’ residence had been discovered, implicating countless households in misfortune.

Liu Kun didn’t care about other families’ troubles—he only wanted to save his sons.

Liu Kun had originally intended to seek help from Court of Judicial Review’s Fan Zhenglian, since the proxy test-taking affair was something Fan Zhenglian had arranged and facilitated through connections. Who knew that this afternoon came news that Fan Zhenglian had also been taken away.

Seeing the situation turning dire, his wife Wang Chunzhi grew anxious, worried about their two sons, and rushed to the government office to plead. Instead, she was temporarily detained on charges of causing disturbances.

Those who had previously flattered them immediately changed their tune upon seeing this scene, eager to distance themselves completely. Liu Kun couldn’t find a single person to help, and in this desperate situation, he received a letter.

He didn’t know who had slipped the letter through their main gate—it was stuck in the courtyard. When he opened it, the message was simple: there was a way to rescue his two sons, but he needed to come to the foot of Mount Wangchun at midnight tonight, where someone had something to give him.

Liu Kun didn’t know who had written this letter. With everyone avoiding his family, they had no other relatives in the capital. Liu Kun didn’t suspect the letter writer had malicious intentions—his whole family was imprisoned and destitute, with nothing worth coveting.

He guessed this letter might be a contingency plan left by Fan Zhenglian. How could such a high-ranking official like Fan Zhenglian surrender without resistance? He must have already arranged other escape routes through intermediaries. After all, between them was a hidden, never-revealed patron—the Grand Tutor’s Manor.

Thinking of this, Liu Kun’s face regained some color.

It must be so, he repeated to himself, unsure whether he was trying to convince others or himself.

Lost in such wild thoughts, his footing on the mountain path grew increasingly muddy. He discovered he had somehow wandered into a clearing among dense shrubs and thorns.

No, calling it a clearing wasn’t quite right. Among the wild grass were countless earthen mounds, like numerous silent human figures in the darkness, staring at him with cold and eerie presence.

Rain drops hit his face. Liu Kun shuddered violently and snapped back to awareness.

This was a mass grave.

Like a blow to the head, Liu Kun completely awakened.

How had he wandered into a mass grave?

Looking at the cold burial mounds all around, he suddenly felt several degrees of fear and was about to leave when footsteps sounded behind him.

Liu Kun jumped in fright and spun around, seeing a snowy white shadow gradually emerging from behind a protruding burial mound in the distance.

This shadow appeared slender and light, blurry in the night rain, like a drifting, unreal painting. Liu Kun felt his legs trembling and his entire scalp tingling.

The white shadow stopped before him.

Mountain rain drizzled, cold wind swept through wild grass, occasionally mixed with unknown beast calls in the distance. The smell of earth mixed with bone decay from the burial ground was particularly nauseating.

He lacked the courage to look up at the monster or ghost opposite him, only staring down at his own feet. Gradually, he noticed something wrong.

In the weak light of the fire starter, a long, sinister shadow stretched out.

A shadow?

Do ghosts have shadows?

As he thought this, he heard rustling sounds from ahead, so he gathered courage to look up.

Up close and clear now, the white shadow wasn’t some drifting painting, but a person wearing a white cloak. This person now pulled back the hood, revealing a beautiful face.

Brows like spring mountains, eyes like autumn waters, with a white silk flower at her temple adding several degrees of mournful beauty—that sorrow also carried a touch of pitiful charm.

A young woman.

Liu Kun was stunned. Before he could speak, she had already said: “You came.”

He started, suddenly understanding, and joy appeared on his brow: “You’re the one who wrote me the letter?”

He had said this wild mountain wilderness couldn’t suddenly have someone appear—it must be someone arranged by Fan Zhenglian. That made sense; with officers searching everywhere in the city for people, discussing plans on the mountain was actually safer.

The woman nodded, then looked at him and called: “Uncle.”

Uncle?

Liu Kun was bewildered. What did this mean?

Mount Wangchun’s peaks were drenched in autumn rain, soaking the mass grave in a layer of wet, cold silence.

The woman sighed softly: “It seems Uncle doesn’t remember.”

“When you left Changwu County years ago, you borrowed fifty taels of silver from my father. I personally delivered it to you.”

Like a thunderclap, it instantly illuminated the confused fog churning in Liu Kun’s mind.

He stared at the person before him, his eyes filled with inexplicable horror.

“You’re little Tong?”

You have a new assassination order to review~