Shi Ting went to the window and examined it — burned beyond recognition. From the filth-covered floor, he picked up the window latch.

The latch was warped and blackened by heat, lying in a heap of black ash.

On this type of window, the latch was always on the inside. Residents would slide it shut before sleeping at night and open it again in the morning when they wanted air.

“The latch is in the open position.” Shi Ting frowned. “If someone saw the brothers standing at the window calling for help, it means both men were still conscious. And since the latch was open — this isn’t a tall building — why didn’t they just open the window and escape?”

Shi Ting’s question stumped everyone in the room.

Finally Zheng Yun spoke. “Could it be that someone had sealed the window from the outside, so even with the latch open, it couldn’t be pushed outward?”

Shi Ting nodded. “In an ordinary country house like this, the doors and windows are easy to open. As long as someone was still conscious when the fire broke out, escaping would have been simple. What time did the fire start?”

“Around eight in the evening.”

“At eight o’clock, the brothers would not have gone to bed yet, much less shut and latched everything. Who was the first to discover the fire?”

“Here’s what happened — that evening, a family in the village happened to be holding a funeral. Almost everyone went to help out. By the time anyone noticed the fire, it was already too late.”

“But didn’t you say someone saw the brothers at the window calling for help? At that point, rushing in should still have saved them.”

“The courtyard gate was locked, and the top of the wall was lined with jagged glass shards. By the time the villagers fetched a ladder to climb over, it was too late.”

In the countryside, courtyard walls were typically built quite high, and shards of sharp glass were embedded along the top — not to keep out people, but wild animals. Being at the foot of Kui Mountain, the village was frequently raided by wild boars and wolves, which not only took livestock but sometimes attacked people as well.

When Shi Ting arrived, he had noticed the latch on the courtyard gate — a metal sliding bolt with a hole at one end through which a padlock could be threaded to secure the gate. This type of lock could be fastened from either side.

As for the key, it was typically kept under a brick or stone just outside the window — an unspoken custom among country folk.

That night, someone had climbed a ladder over the wall into the courtyard, found the key, and unlocked the gate. The crowd surged in and began fighting the fire.

“When I was feeling around under the window for the key, I saw two shadows through the glass — they were pounding on the window, crying out in the most pitiful way.”

“Are you certain the people inside were the two herb-buying brothers?”

“It was them. The elder one was tall, the younger one short. After the fire was put out, both of them were burned beyond recognition as human beings, but people who knew them identified them right away. It was Qiao Sheng and Qiao Zhong, the two brothers.” Cui Xiao Wu recalled the scene and still felt a chill, along with a deep sense of sorrow. “Those two were kind-hearted people, on good terms with everyone in the village. Qiao Sheng first stumbled upon Wuyin Village five years ago and discovered Wugen growing on Kui Mountain. That’s when we learned that the scruffy plant we’d taken for granted was actually worth a great deal of money. Qiao Sheng made an agreement with the villagers — every year in April and May, he would come to Wuyin Village to purchase Wugen, and in exchange, the villagers would not breathe a word about it to outsiders. For three consecutive years, both Qiao Sheng and the villagers held to their agreement. The villagers kept their mouths shut, and Qiao Sheng never cheated them — he paid fair prices, never shorted anyone on the weight, and he also knew medicine, often giving free acupuncture treatments to villagers suffering from rheumatism. During the month he spent in Wuyin Village buying Wugen, every household competed to have him over for a meal.”

“After Qiao Sheng died, what happened to the Wugen in Wuyin Village? These past three years, where have you been selling the harvest?”

Cui Xiao Wu said, “After Qiao Sheng died, the village chief had everyone pool their Wugen together. He and Zhu San and some others took it down to Wenshan County together. Zhu San knew a pair of brothers there who ran a pharmacy and were willing to buy Wugen — but at half the price. Though the villagers’ income dropped significantly, as long as the Wugen had a buyer, people accepted it.”

“Did Qiao Sheng always bring his younger brother with him?”

“Qiao Sheng said that he and his brother had no parents, that they grew up depending on each other, and that wherever he went, his brother would always be with him. His younger brother was small — looked only fifteen or sixteen, thin and slight, always yawning as though he could never get enough sleep. But he was quite lively and got along well with the children of the village.”

“You were standing right outside the window at the time — do you know why they didn’t escape through it?”

Cui Xiao Wu froze, then scratched his head. “That’s right — they could easily have climbed out through the window.”

“Did you notice anything unusual on the window — wooden planks nailed across it from outside, perhaps?”

Cui Xiao Wu shook his head. “At the time all I could think about was saving people. I wasn’t paying attention to details like that.”

“After the brothers died, what was done with the bodies?”

“The village chief handled it. He said the Qiao brothers were city people and that we couldn’t very well send them back to the city for burial.”

When the village chief stood before them again, he was clearly puzzled as to why the Military Police Bureau had begun investigating the Qiao brothers’ case.

“Officer, that was an accident from three years ago. Many villagers saw with their own eyes that they were burned to death. What’s the point of looking into it now?”

Shi Ting said, “Just answer my question — what was done with the bodies of Qiao Sheng and Qiao Zhong?”

“They were outsiders with no family to claim them. I had people bury them in the unclaimed grave field.”

“Can you still find the burial site?”

“I’m afraid… I’m afraid not anymore…”

When the group arrived at the unclaimed grave field, they understood why the village chief had said so. As far as the eye could see across that stretch of hillside, there was nothing but grave mounds — large and small, packed tightly together into one great burial ground.

The village chief said, “It’s not that I won’t try to find it for you — it’s genuinely impossible. Back in my great-grandfather’s day, a plague swept through Wuyin Village and killed more than half the population. The bodies carried disease, and people were afraid to bury them in their own family plots, so this hilltop was opened up as a new burial ground. What you see here — all these densely packed graves — are not only the plague victims from that time, but also later unmarked graves and the burials of infants who died in childhood.”

With so many graves, there was truly no way to locate the Qiao brothers’ remains. They couldn’t very well go digging up every mound one by one.

“Caw — caw!”

A harsh, raspy sound cut through the air. Two jet-black crows landed on one of the grave mounds.

Because these were all wild, unattended graves, no one came to make offerings. The mounds had nothing on them but weeds — not even a single sheet of paper money burned in tribute.

Bai Jin startled. Whether it was the effect of the surroundings or not, he couldn’t say, but he felt a cold, eerie wind pressing in from all sides, raising the hair on the back of his neck.

Back at the small courtyard where they were temporarily lodging, Yan Qing and Murong were peeling potatoes. Jianguo lay curled at Yan Qing’s feet, playing his faithful role as guardian.

Food in Wuyin Village was scarce, and potatoes were the staple of this season. To keep everyone from growing sick of them, Yan Qing found a different way to prepare potatoes at every meal.

“Did you find the Qiao brothers’ graves?”

Bai Jin slapped the dust off himself, looking deflated. “Don’t even mention it. That place is a wild cemetery — hundreds of mounds at the very least. Even the village chief and the men who did the burying can’t remember which one it is.”

Zheng Yun added, “Seventh Brother, are you sure the deaths of these brothers are connected to the case of Zhu San and the others taking their own lives?”

Shi Ting said, “I have three suspicions. First: I found a lighter in Zhu San’s dwelling. That particular lighter is only sold at foreign goods shops in Shun Cheng. Qiao Sheng was from Shun Cheng, so it’s quite possible Zhu San received the lighter from him. Second: Zhu San and the others all met their ends on the fifteenth of April each year, and the very night the Qiao brothers burned to death was also the fifteenth of April. That should not be a coincidence. Third: Since the Qiao brothers came to purchase Wugen, they must have carried a substantial amount of cash. Yet according to the village chief, no one ever saw any money belonging to them — that money was likely destroyed in the fire. But if the village chief is telling the truth, why did we find no trace of valuables when we sifted through the scene? Paper currency can burn completely, but silver dollars and copper coins cannot be destroyed by fire. The Qiao brothers would certainly have carried silver coins. And what about their luggage? They couldn’t have come empty-handed. If the bags were made of rattan or leather, the material would burn — but the clasps and hinges are iron. Even if the bags themselves burned away, those parts would not simply vanish.”

“So Seventh Brother’s thinking is that someone sealed the Qiao brothers’ doors and windows, set fire to the house to burn them alive, and then took the money and valuables?”

“The killer likely entered the premises beforehand, stole the valuables, and then — so the brothers wouldn’t discover the theft — set the fire and burned them alive when they returned.”

“But what does any of that have to do with Zhu San and the others’ deaths? A lighter alone doesn’t prove much — maybe Qiao Sheng simply gave it to him as a gift.”

—