Since arriving in this world, Yan Qing had never felt as happy as she did today — and the source of her happiness turned out to be one small parrot.

“Did Commander Shi happen to mention its name?” Yan Qing grew curious.

“Miss could always ask it yourself,” Jing Zhi said with a mischievous smile. “It understands everything.”

Yan Qing found this delightful and asked, “What is your name?”

“Big Tiger, Big Tiger!”

All three burst out laughing.

Jing Zhi pointed a finger at it in mock reproach. “You’re tiny little thing — how dare you call yourself Big Tiger? That’s hilarious.”

“Big Tiger, Big Tiger.”

“Good morning, Yan Qing, good morning, Yan Qing.”

Big Tiger started bouncing around again.

Jing Zhi said, “The person Commander Shi sent mentioned that this parrot is very clever — it only takes about ten or so repetitions to teach it a phrase.”

“Got it, got it.” Big Tiger let out its sharp, peculiar call again. “Good morning, Yan Qing.”

Yan Qing grabbed a handful of bird feed and offered it up. The smile in her eyes spread all the way into her heart.

“Big Tiger, let me ask you something — who taught you the phrase ‘Good morning, Yan Qing’?”

Big Tiger ate its fill contentedly, then started bouncing again. “Shi Ting, good morning. Shi Ting, good morning.”

Yan Qing was startled. She quickly made a hushing gesture at it.

This was her own courtyard — if someone passing by heard the bird calling out Shi Ting’s name, that would be quite a problem.

Fortunately, Big Tiger called out twice and then quieted, crouching on the middle perch of the cage and playing dead.

“Commander Shi must have taught it that,” Jing Zhi said. “Don’t let his usual cold, keep-your-distance manner fool you — when it comes to things that matter to Miss, he pays the most careful attention.”

Yan Qing smiled — a smile that came from the heart. She was genuinely grateful to Shi Ting. To him, it may have been no more than a birdcage and a small bird. But to her, it was an extraordinary joy.

After breakfast, Yan Qing carried Big Tiger with her to pay her respects to the Master of the Yan household.

Thinking to put a smile on the old man’s face, she spent the whole walk teaching Big Tiger new phrases. The parrot proved every bit as clever as promised — before they even reached the lakeside, it could already cry out “Good day, Master” in its sharp, squeaky voice.

Just as she passed through the moon arch gate, several servants came pushing and hauling someone out from the other side, arguing all the while. “We’re going to report this to Steward Song and send him to the Jinlin Guard.”

The young man being restrained was dressed in plain cotton clothes, with clean cloth shoes, regular features, and the look of someone no more than eighteen or nineteen. He was struggling fiercely against their grip.

“I didn’t kill anyone. What right do you have to detain me? Let go, let go of me!” The young man’s face was flushed crimson with agitation.

Murong said, “Miss, I recognize that man. He’s one of the household’s drivers — his name is Di Huai. I’ve dealt with him a few times. He’s sharp-minded and capable, and he knows some martial arts. He doesn’t seem like someone capable of doing something terrible.”

“So that’s Di Huai.” Jing Zhi had the air of someone who understood the situation entirely. “I’ve heard his driving is the best in the household — all the ladies and misses prefer to ride in his car when going out.”

As they spoke, Di Huai caught sight of Yan Qing. On instinct, he wrenched himself free from the others with all his strength and lurched toward her.

Murong stepped in front of Yan Qing in an instant and called out sharply, “What are you doing?”

Di Huai dropped to his knees on the ground not far away, his body prostrating low against the damp stone path. “Please, Sixth Miss, speak up for me. I truly did not kill anyone. I have been falsely accused.”

The others, upon noticing Yan Qing, also came forward and bowed in greeting.

“Stand up and tell me what happened.” Yan Qing gestured to Murong that there was no need to worry. It was plain to see that Di Huai only wished to plead his innocence — he had no intention of harming her.

Murong stepped aside, but kept a watchful eye on Di Huai’s every movement.

“Stand up and speak.” Yan Qing truly could not bear watching people fling themselves to the ground at every turn. But in this society, servants knelt before their masters, and subordinates knelt before their superiors.

Di Huai remained on his knees, the fabric at his kneecaps already soaked through by the rain that had not yet dried from the ground.

“Sixth Miss, I did not kill anyone.”

“Sixth Miss, he did kill someone. He beat Liu Qi to death.” One of the servants rushed in. “We all saw it with our own eyes.”

The two beside him nodded in unison. “We definitely saw it.”

“I did not.” Di Huai refuted loudly. “I only hit him with a stick. I didn’t kill him.”

Yan Qing’s head was beginning to ache from the clamor. She raised a hand to signal quiet. “You say someone is dead — where is the body?”

“Just in the back garage area. We were on our way to report it to Steward Song.”

“Go and find Steward Song first. I’ll go take a look.”

The servants all stared at Yan Qing, expressions equally puzzled.

They had only heard that this Sixth Miss was weak and timid. And yet here she was, hearing about a death and showing not the slightest fear — not only unafraid, but actually prepared to go and look at a corpse herself. Could it be that the rumor about her falling into the lake and being possessed by something was actually true?

The Yan household’s rear courtyard contained a dedicated garage. It housed three vehicles in total: two box-nosed motorcars and one cargo truck.

A row of simple flat-roofed rooms had been built beside the garage — used partly for storing goods, partly as lodgings and a dining space for the household’s drivers.

The body the servants spoke of lay sprawled in the open space in front of that row of rooms. The deceased was on his back, facing upward. There was a foul substance around his mouth, and on the ground near the left side of his face was a large pool of vomit.

“That’s him — the driver, Liu Qi.” One of the servants pointed at the body.

Yan Qing handed Big Tiger to Jing Zhi. Murong pushed her wheelchair up to the body.

Murong felt at the deceased’s neck for a pulse, then lifted his eyelids and looked. She shook her head at Yan Qing. “He’s dead.”

From following Yan Qing, Murong had picked up some basic knowledge of examining bodies — so that she could assist her mistress when mobility was an issue.

“Come here.” Yan Qing looked toward the servants standing not far off.

They filed obediently over, involuntarily bowing their heads — none of them quite willing to look directly at Liu Qi’s body.

“What are your names?”

The sturdier of the young men answered first. “I’m Qian Deyou, one of the drivers.”

“I’m Zhang Qian from the kitchen.” This person still carried the smell of cooking smoke — even without being told, Yan Qing had already guessed he worked in the kitchen.

“I’m Zhao Zhu — I do odd jobs.”

Yan Qing looked over the three of them. “You all saw Di Huai beat Liu Qi to death?”

All three nodded in unison. “We saw it. No question about it.”

Yan Qing pointed to Qian Deyou. “You — describe what happened.”

Qian Deyou swallowed. Faced with this Sixth Miss, he suddenly felt a little nervous.

“Today there were no carriages to drive, so Zhao Zhu and Zhang Qian came to find me for a game of cards. The three of us were sitting at the door playing. Zhang Qian lost and refused to pay up, so we got into an argument. In the middle of all the bickering, we looked up and saw Di Huai and Liu Qi come out of the room together, arguing as they walked. When they reached the doorway, Di Huai grabbed a stick from beside the door and hit Liu Qi across the back with it. Liu Qi fell down. We thought he had only been knocked out, but after quite a while he still wasn’t getting up. Zhang Qian went over to check — and Liu Qi was actually dead. Killed by Di Huai with one blow.”

Yan Qing noticed that the doorway did indeed have a small table set out, with a scattered deck of cards still lying on top.

“Di Huai — do you confirm what Qian Deyou has said?”

Di Huai shook his head vigorously. “Sixth Miss, I only hit him once with a stick, and I hit him across the back. I truly did not kill him.”

“And you are all certain — Di Huai only struck him once?”

The servants all nodded.

Yan Qing directed Murong to lift the deceased’s clothing. Liu Qi’s chest had no open wounds, but across his back was a single horizontal band of subcutaneous bruising.

“What did you use to strike Liu Qi?”

Di Huai pointed to a stick lying nearby. “That stick.”

It was not a thick stick, but it was sturdy. Comparing it against the bruise on Liu Qi’s back, it was clear enough: Di Huai had struck Liu Qi’s back with that very stick, and Liu Qi had collapsed from the impact.

But a blow with a wooden stick to the back could not cause instantaneous death — Liu Qi had died for another reason.

At that moment, Yan Qing noticed a slight swelling at the back of Liu Qi’s skull. She asked Murong to part Liu Qi’s hair for a closer look, and her assessment solidified.

“Murong, go and summon the authorities. Liu Qi was indeed beaten to death — but Di Huai is not the killer.”

Everyone present exchanged looks of bewilderment.

“Not Di Huai? How can that be — we saw it ourselves.”

“This Sixth Miss isn’t a member of the guard. How can she be so certain Di Huai didn’t do it?”

“Stop asking questions and wait for the Jinlin Guard to arrive.”

While the others murmured among themselves, Di Huai had already knelt again before Yan Qing. He pressed his forehead to the ground three times, each one firm and resonant. “Many thanks to Sixth Miss for upholding justice for Di Huai.”

Yan Qing observed the young man — his features honest and open, his eyes clear and unguarded, holding nothing beyond gratitude.

She had encountered many criminals. As the saying goes, a guilty conscience leaves its mark. People with average psychological resilience will, after committing a crime, display a range of restless and anxious behaviors. An experienced investigator can read the microexpressions of a criminal and draw an accurate judgment about whether they are guilty or lying.

Yan Qing’s study of microexpressions was only surface-level — and yet even she could tell: Di Huai was not lying.

While they waited, Yan Qing had the scene sealed off so no outsiders could enter. All those connected to the matter — Di Huai and the three servants — stood obediently to one side, awaiting the Jinlin Guard’s investigation.

About half an hour later, Bai Jin and E’Yuan arrived with two guards.

The first thing Bai Jin noticed was not the body — it was Big Tiger, still in Jing Zhi’s hand.

That parrot was Shi Ting’s beloved pet. Word was that he had raised it from the moment it hatched, and the bird was remarkably clever — it had won him over completely.

A knowing look crossed Bai Jin’s face, and he nudged E’Yuan with his shoulder. “Liang Ping, did you see that? Our Seventh Brother has gone and given the bird away.”

“What?” E’Yuan had no time for such things. His eyes were fixed on the body.

“You immovable log — talking to you is a waste of breath.” Bai Jin clicked his tongue at him in exasperation.

E’Yuan paid him no mind. Bai Jin began muttering to himself, “Truly, even the greatest hero can fall before a beautiful woman — let alone someone as exceptionally brilliant as Sixth Miss. It was inevitable that Seventh Brother would be unable to resist.”

“Will you stop muttering nonsense and get to work?” E’Yuan shot him a glare.

Bai Jin curled his lip, then went off to put on shoe covers and gloves for the trace examination.

E’Yuan came to stand before Yan Qing and greeted her respectfully with a single word: “Shifu.”

After Yan Qing had explained everything she knew in detail, she turned her wheelchair to leave. E’Yuan instinctively called out to stop her. “Shifu, aren’t you staying to assist with the autopsy?”