After Shi Ting left, Shi Xin was just admiring the piece of calligraphy he had left behind when Chun Xiu hurried in. “Madam, the Sixth Miss of the Yan Family hasn’t left — she is asking to see you.”

“The Sixth Miss?” Shi Xin hadn’t expected Yan Qing to come back, and quickly said, “Please show her in.”

When Yan Qing entered, Shi Xin had already set aside the calligraphy and stepped forward to greet her. “Sixth Miss, what brings you to me?”

“Please just call me Yan Qing, Madam.” Seated in her wheelchair, Yan Qing inclined her head slightly. “I’ve come to ask a favor.”

“Please, speak freely,” Shi Xin said, though she turned it over in her mind and could not think what Yan Qing might possibly need from her.

“Mr. Liu is Shun Cheng’s foremost cloth merchant. He has traveled widely and seen a great deal of the world. I’d like to ask Mr. Liu to help me acquire a particular type of fabric.”

“Fabric?” Shi Xin was taken aback.

“This fabric is called non-woven cloth. It is not sold domestically, but I happen to know how it is made.” Yan Qing produced an envelope and offered it over. “I have written out the production method and drawn up the specifications. If Mr. Liu is interested, he is welcome to take a look.”

“Non-woven cloth?” Shi Xin had been at Liu Huan’s side long enough to have heard a great deal — and yet she had never heard of such an unusual fabric.

“This cloth requires no weaving in its production, which is why it is called non-woven cloth. It is moisture-resistant, antibacterial, breathable, non-flammable, easy to decompose, and inexpensive to produce. It has applications in medicine, industry, the home, and garment-making alike. Used to make grain sacks, for instance, it can prevent both moisture and pests.”

“You would hand over the production method to me without asking anything in return?”

Yan Qing smiled. “I have no wish to profit from this. Whatever Mr. Liu chooses to do with it afterward is none of my concern. All I ask is that, once Mr. Liu is able to produce the non-woven cloth, he make certain items for me. The specifications are all in the envelope — I have drawn up the designs already — and I will pay fair market price.”

Shi Xin had not yet recovered from her astonishment. She held the envelope for a long moment, unable to calm herself.

After some time, she finally asked, “And what is it that you would like made, if I may ask?”

Yan Qing smiled. “Autopsy gowns.”

Even after Yan Qing had gone, Shi Xin opened the envelope to find four pages inside. The first pages laid out the method for producing non-woven cloth in meticulous detail; the remaining pages contained design drawings — some depicting masks, others autopsy gowns, each rendered with remarkable precision.

Shi Xin sighed with genuine admiration. “Xing Zhi was absolutely right. This Sixth Miss is no ordinary person.”

—

As Shun Cheng entered the month of June, temperatures climbed rapidly. The young misses and ladies of the household had begun bringing out their short-sleeved and sleeveless garments.

When Yan Qing rose that morning, her head felt heavy. She lay still for a while before she gradually felt better.

She washed and ate her breakfast, then decided she would go to school.

“Miss, you’ll probably need to go out through the back gate,” Jing Zhi said with a grin.

“Why?” Yan Qing was puzzled. “Are they repairing the road out front?”

“No,” Jing Zhi said, covering her mouth. “The road out front is perfectly fine — if anything, it’s crowded with people.”

“Is there some excitement at the mansion today?”

Murong came in from outside. “The main entrance is surrounded by reporters from various newspapers and magazines — and they’re all here to see you, Miss.”

“To see me?” Yan Qing pointed to herself. “Whatever for? I haven’t broken any laws, and I haven’t been spreading rumors.”

“Miss made quite a sensation at the poetry gathering at the Liu Mansion yesterday. These reporters are all here to commission work from you.”

Yan Qing said nothing.

“Miss’s poem, ‘Farewell to Cambridge,’ has swept through every street and lane of Shun Cheng like a spring breeze overnight. There isn’t a soul who hasn’t heard of it.”

Yan Qing pressed her hand to her forehead. “I didn’t write that.”

“But Miss composed it right there at the gathering — how could anyone doubt it? They say that Miss Ma went home and pulled out every Chinese and foreign poetry collection she owns. She spent the entire night searching for proof that Miss had copied it, and came up with nothing.”

Yan Qing thought to herself: a person who doesn’t exist in this era — of course nothing could be found.

“It truly wasn’t written by me. It was written by a Mr. Xu,” Yan Qing said. “Never mind. I’ll go out the back gate.”

As she spoke, she picked up the newspaper from the table. “Any news today?”

“You are the news today, Miss.”

Yan Qing opened the paper and, sure enough, found an article with the headline: “A Single ‘Farewell to Cambridge’ Opens a New Chapter in the History of Free Verse.”

Yan Qing said, “Isn’t that rather excessive?”

The article offered an extensive analysis of “Farewell to Cambridge” and lavished it with praise. The final line read: As for where Cambridge lies, it likely rests within the heart of every person who loves this poem.

Yan Qing turned to the next page and was immediately met with a row of bold black characters: Head-Bashing Maniac Strikes Again — Textile Worker Brutally Slain!

“There’s been another head-bashing case in Shun Cheng?”

Jing Zhi said, “I heard about it too. Last night around midnight, a textile factory worker was attacked on her way back from the night shift — her skull was smashed in. Before her, two other women had already been killed.”

Yan Qing’s brow furrowed. She read through the article from start to finish.

The piece was written in a sensationalized style to attract readers — exaggerated in places, with many fabricated details. It could not be taken at face value.

“Forget school for now. I’m going to the Military Police Department.”

Jing Zhi laughed. “I knew Miss would take an interest in this case.”

Murong also spoke up with a look of worry. “Three head-bashing cases in a row — Shun Cheng is gripped with fear. Even here at the mansion, a strict rule has been put in place: no one is to go in or out alone after 10 o’clock at night.”

“The killer has been targeting women walking home alone late at night. One cannot be too careful.”

After slipping out through the back gate, there was indeed no sign of any reporters here. Dihuai’s car was already parked in the open area. When he saw Yan Qing emerge, he immediately jumped down from the vehicle.

“Sixth Miss, there are quite a few reporters out front. We’ll take a different route.”

“To the Military Police Department.”

The Military Police Department was a hive of activity — telephone bells ringing constantly, officers everywhere clutching folders and conferring in hushed voices as they hurried back and forth. In the main hall, a temporary meeting area had been set up; a session was in progress. A small chalkboard was plastered with photographs from crime scenes, and a web of lines had been drawn across it in complex, overlapping patterns.

“Report, Director,” a young officer stepped forward and saluted crisply. “The Sixth Miss has arrived.”

At the words “Sixth Miss,” several of those in the meeting visibly brightened.

“I knew the Sixth Miss wouldn’t stand by and do nothing.”

“The Sixth Miss has come just when we needed her most.”

Shi Ting set down his pen and looked up. “Please show her in.”

He paused, then changed his mind. “On second thought, I’ll go myself.”

Seeing Shi Ting go out to receive her personally, Bai Jin nudged Zheng Yun with his elbow. “Yesterday the Sixth Miss shook the whole literary world with a single poem, you know — ‘I shake out my sleeves and take away not a single cloud’s flame.’ Did you hear about it?”

Zheng Yun shot him a look. “Spend that gossip energy on the case instead. You might actually help crack it.”

“You, Zheng Shu-shi — what a waste of a name. Your mother gave you a name with both the character for ‘books’ and the character for ‘knowledge,’ all so you’d be well-read and learned. And yet look at you.”

“My name was chosen by my grandfather.”

“You are a genuinely dull person. No wonder no woman has ever taken a liking to you.”

“I keep myself upright. Unlike some people who live lives of idle excess and indulgence.”

“Zheng Shu-shi, who are you calling idle and indulgent? You’re the idle and indulgent one.”

Shi Cheng looked over at the two of them with weary resignation. “You’re giving me a headache.”

“Old Shi, you be the judge — which of us two is the more fickle one?”

“Do you even need to ask?” Shi Cheng shrugged. “Bai Squad Leader, who was that woman cradling a child at the entrance looking for you yesterday?”

Bai Jin’s eyes went wide. “What the — don’t talk nonsense. That was my second cousin’s wife.”

Shi Cheng shook his head with an expression that said you didn’t even spare your own second cousin’s wife.

While they were all talking, Shi Ting had already wheeled Yan Qing in. Rather than going to the meeting area, he headed straight for the autopsy room.

Once they were out of earshot, Bai Jin rubbed his eyes. “Did you all see that — the look on Seventh Brother’s face just now?”

“We’re not blind,” Shi Cheng said with a broad grin. “Seventh Brother likes the Sixth Miss.”

“Is E’Yuan in the autopsy room?”

“Probably not — he just went to the records room.”

Bai Jin raised an eyebrow and made a gesture: let’s go take a look.

In the autopsy room lay a body, draped in a white cloth. Dark bloodstains marked the fabric in patches.

Shi Ting said, “The deceased was discovered on Chang Sheng Street. A shop owner went out early in the morning to throw away rubbish and found the body buried under a pile of refuse, with only a pair of feet sticking out.”

“Where is the medical examiner?”

“He’s in the records room completing paperwork. The body only just arrived.”

As Shi Ting spoke, he glanced toward the doorway. Yan Qing followed his gaze — she noticed nothing unusual.

On the other side of the door, Bai Jin — who had been pressed against the gap, listening intently — made a quick shh gesture. Shi Cheng and another officer below him nodded at once.

Just as the three of them were deep in their eavesdropping, Zheng Yun raised his leg and delivered a swift kick to Bai Jin’s backside. Bai Jin let out a yelp and tumbled headfirst through the autopsy room door.

Yan Qing startled as a cascade of people came spilling in.

“Sixth Miss, good morning, good morning!” Bai Jin scrambled to his feet with a sheepish grin.

Yan Qing smiled. “Good morning.”

“You look like you have nothing to do,” Shi Ting said, walking over. “The victim was most likely attacked around midnight. Go map out all the possible routes she may have traveled, and while you’re at it, interview every household along the way near the crime scene.”

“But I haven’t had breakfast yet.”

“If you come back without finding a single witness, you won’t be having dinner either.”

Shi Cheng couldn’t help but press a hand over his mouth to stifle his amusement.

Shi Ting looked at him. “You’re not exactly free, either. Go look into the victim’s social connections. Come back without a clear picture, and dinner is off the table for you as well.”

“Yes, sir.” The group hurried to salute and then beat a sheepish retreat.

The moment Shi Ting turned around, he found Yan Qing trying to suppress a smile. He gave a helpless shake of his head. “I’ve given you something to laugh at.”

“I think they’re quite endearing.”

“Endearing?”

“Yes.” Yan Qing’s lips curved. “They take things well, and the bond you all have is easy to see.”

“What happened to Bai Squad Leader and the others?” E’Yuan strode in with documents in hand. “They all looked miserable.”

Then he spotted Yan Qing, and his face lit up. “Master, you’re here.”

“I saw the newspaper this morning and couldn’t put it out of my mind,” Yan Qing said. “So I came.”

“Master, your timing is perfect. This body was just brought in — the examination hasn’t started yet.” E’Yuan handed her an autopsy gown.

These gowns had been reused countless times, and even after washing and disinfecting, the smell of blood never entirely left them.

Yan Qing thought: if Liu Huan showed interest in her proposal, she would be able to outfit the Military Police Department’s medical examiners with disposable autopsy gowns.

Her second uncle always said: a medical examiner who knows how to protect themselves is a good medical examiner.

E’Yuan removed the white cloth and took off the victim’s clothing. Yan Qing’s gaze was drawn immediately to the wounds on the victim’s chest. “What is this?”

—