He pointed to the deceased’s clothing. “It is summer now, but the body is dressed in a gray woolen sweater, a padded cotton jacket, and padded cotton shoes — clear evidence that the victim was killed during the winter months.”

He searched through the clothing once more and found nothing of value as a clue. Beyond the clothes on his back, the deceased had nothing on him — no money, and no object of any kind that might establish his identity.

“The sweater is pure wool, the padded jacket is filled with white down, and the shoes are leather with a cotton lining. The deceased lived comfortably, yet there is not a single coin in his pockets, nor a wallet. The killer took the victim’s valuables after murdering him.”

“Was it robbery — or something else?”

“Hard to say.”

“What do we do now? Bring the body back to the Military Police Department?”

“Bury it back for now.” Shi Ting said. “With that red-barked poplar here, it will be easy to find again.”

“Bury it back? Why?” Yan Qing did not understand. Should the body not be brought back to the Military Police Department as soon as possible for an autopsy, and then a search for the victim’s identity?

A moment of bewilderment later, and Yan Qing understood at once what Shi Ting was after. It likely had something to do with the guests staying at the inn.

Shi Ting had already begun filling in the pit. Afterward, he gathered some sod from nearby and laid it over the surface. By the time he finished, his work was so convincing that no sign of disturbance remained.

Shi Ting brushed the mud from his hands. “You remember the innkeeper mentioning that there were guests in the inn? It is not mushroom season — so what are those people doing out in this forest?”

Yan Qing’s heart lurched, and she looked toward the now-reburied remains. “Surely they have not come here because of him?”

“We cannot be certain, but it is highly probable.”

“So what do we do now?”

“For the time being, we should not startle the prey. Let us go to the inn.”

When Shi Ting and Yan Qing returned to the inn, the innkeeper had already fallen asleep in his reclining chair, his snoring rising and falling in waves.

“Innkeeper — checking in.”

The innkeeper jolted awake and sprang from the chair. “Who — who is checking in?”

Seeing Shi Ting and Yan Qing, he immediately broke into a smile. “Did you two not say you were not staying?”

“My girlfriend said the air here is good and she would like to spend a couple of days relaxing.”

As he spoke, he turned and gave Yan Qing a tender look.

Yan Qing knew perfectly well he was putting on a performance for the innkeeper’s benefit, but her heart still quickened at the word girlfriend. She could not help it.

“Your girlfriend has excellent taste. Not only is the air good here, but I have game as well. If you two stay, I will make you a braised mountain mushroom and wild chicken soup tonight.”

The innkeeper led the two inside and cheerfully produced a registration ledger. “I must trouble you both to sign in. It is the law now — all inn guests must register. Otherwise, if there is a surprise inspection one day, we will both be fined.”

Yan Qing had once read through the Shun Cheng Regulations, and there was indeed a provision requiring inn registration. She felt a growing admiration for Shi Ting’s far-sightedness — this was a policy that had only come into effect in more recent times, yet he had already thought of it in this era.

Shi Ting wrote down two names at random.

As he wrote, he noted that five other people had registered before them, occupying four separate rooms.

“This is a small establishment — only five rooms upstairs. The other four are already taken, so I am afraid I must put you both in this one.” The innkeeper opened a door. “This room is a little smaller, but if you open the window you can see the forest behind — not a bad view. If you are lucky, you might even see wild pheasants fighting.”

The room was indeed small, with only one bed and a table with chairs.

The curtains were old and sun-bleached to a faded shade. The table and chairs had also lost their lacquer, exposing the cheap wood beneath.

The innkeeper pushed open the window to let in fresh air.

“Innkeeper, who is staying in those four rooms?” Shi Ting asked casually.

The innkeeper replied, “Four men and one woman. One man and the woman are a couple — they are in the room next to yours. The other three are all young men in their twenties, with much the same accent.”

“Do they know each other?”

“Probably not. Apart from that couple, I have never seen any of them speak. They do not even nod to each other when they pass.”

“Innkeeper, do you have newspapers here?”

“Of course, of course.” The innkeeper said. “Which day would you like?”

“I would like the newspapers from the winter of the year 201.”

The innkeeper let out a sound of surprise. “Newspapers from two years ago?”

“That is right.” Shi Ting said. “To be frank, my girlfriend and I came here partly to look for someone — someone who went missing in the winter two years ago.”

“Is that so.” The innkeeper looked quite sympathetic. “You will have to wait a moment then. Newspapers from two years ago — I will have to look for them.”

“And please prepare us some lunch as well — add the meal to the room charge.”

Shi Ting handed the innkeeper the remaining half-pack of cigarettes. “Many thanks.”

The innkeeper accepted the cigarettes with unconcealed delight and went off.

Yan Qing asked, puzzled, “How did you know he would have newspapers from two years ago?”

“When I gave him the cigarettes earlier, he took one look and knew they were expensive. Then he said he had seen the brand advertised in the newspapers — which tells me he reads the papers regularly, and not just the news. He lives out here year-round, and apart from newspapers there is nothing else to occupy him. So I concluded not only that he has them, but that he keeps every one he has read — carefully.”

Yan Qing looked impressed. “By the way, you wrote false names in the registration ledger just now. Is this not a law you yourself established?”

“Identity cards are not yet widespread, so authentic name registration is very difficult. It is trivially easy for innkeepers and guests alike to fabricate names. This law I established is more a means of laying the groundwork for the future than anything that can be immediately enforced.”

Yan Qing very much wanted to tell him how practical his thinking was — that in modern society, real-name hotel registration had become universal throughout the country, and had made an irreplaceable contribution to the stability of a law-governed society.

“Do you think those people in the other rooms know each other?” Yan Qing asked. “Or did they happen to arrive at the same time by coincidence?”

“They know each other.” Shi Ting’s tone was certain. “If you were staying at an inn and came face to face with another guest in the corridor, what would you do?”

“Offer a greeting, or at least a nod. It is the most basic courtesy.”

“Precisely. So people who show no outward sign of interaction are not necessarily strangers. On the contrary — not only do they know each other, they are actively working to conceal that fact.”

“But why would they conceal it?”

“I do not know.” Shi Ting shook his head. “We need to see them in person first.”

Before long, footsteps sounded on the staircase, and the innkeeper hurried up carrying a large stack of newspapers.

“Found them.” Having been well rewarded, the innkeeper was prompt and thorough. “Here are the newspapers from the winter of the year 201 — I was not sure I had them all, so I brought the autumn ones as well.”

Shi Ting was genuinely grateful. “Thank you.”

“My wife is preparing a meal for you both — please wait just a little longer.”

After the innkeeper left, Shi Ting pulled out a chair and sat down.

“What are you looking for?” Yan Qing asked.

“The person buried beneath the red-barked poplar died in the winter of the year 201. I thought there might be missing person notices in the newspapers — if we can establish the identity of the deceased, we can determine our next steps.”

“That makes sense.” Yan Qing also picked up a newspaper. “Let us look together.”

Three months of winter, thirty issues of newspaper per month, four pages per issue front to back — reading through all of these from beginning to end was no small task.

Yan Qing had worked through ten days’ worth of papers when the innkeeper’s wife came to deliver lunch.

Two bowls of rice, a dish of braised mountain mushrooms with potato, and a dish of pickled radish with salted green onion oil.

The innkeeper’s wife smiled as she set it down. “The small dish is complimentary. Please enjoy.”

After eating, the two resumed reading. They read until the sun had declined in the west and the light inside the room was growing dim.

The inn had no electricity — only oil lamps.

When Shi Ting went to light the oil lamp, he glanced down and saw someone returning from the forest below. The man carried a hoe and a spade over his shoulder and appeared thoroughly exhausted.

“Innkeeper, heat some water — I need a bath,” he shouted into the building.

Before long, two more men returned one after another, carrying the same tools and keeping a distance of several dozen feet between themselves, exchanging no words.

The last to return were the young man and woman. The woman was clearly completely spent and had no energy even for conversation.

“I am going downstairs for a moment.” Shi Ting lit the oil lamp and set it on the table.

“Take care of yourself.”

Watching the door close behind Shi Ting, Yan Qing lowered her head and returned to the newspapers.

After Shi Ting descended, he came face to face with the man who had been the first to return. The man walked with his head down, moving in haste.

“Excuse me — where can I get hot water?” Shi Ting stepped into his path.

The man seemed startled for an instant, but quickly composed himself. “Ask the innkeeper.”

“Thank you.” Shi Ting lowered the arm he had used to block the way. The man promptly left.

The other two men who had come back later were sitting on benches in the courtyard washing their feet. Though they were seated close to one another, they did not speak.

Shi Ting walked over to one of them and crouched down with an air of curiosity. “I saw you all carrying hoes. What were you digging for?”

The man looked at him with sharp wariness. “We were not digging for anything.”

“Then what were you in the forest for? Are you forest wardens?”

“Digging for mushrooms.” The other man answered. “The oil mushrooms here are delicious.”

“And where were you digging for them? I would like to go dig some as well.”

The man had a short temper. “You will not find any. Do not waste your time.”

At that moment the young man and woman passed by. Shi Ting quickly stood up. “Excuse me, miss — might I trouble you for something?”

The young man and woman tensed immediately, and the woman moved to hide behind the man.

The man asked, “What is it?”

Shi Ting scratched his head with a slightly sheepish air. “My girlfriend says there are mosquitoes here, and I forgot to bring mosquito repellent when we left. I was wondering if the young lady might have some.”

“Sorry, we did not bring any either.” The man declined politely.

“No trouble at all — my apologies for disturbing you.”

The man looked at him. “What are you and your girlfriend doing here?”

The moment those words left his mouth, several pairs of eyes swung in Shi Ting’s direction. Within those gazes, beyond the wariness and suspicion, was a keen and dangerous edge.

Shi Ting stepped closer to the man and lowered his voice. “We actually came here for fishing, but then the rain caught us. I took the opportunity to bring her along, and with just the two of us alone together under one roof — well, you know how it is…”

The man gave a knowing laugh, the look of one man understanding another perfectly well.

He clapped Shi Ting on the shoulder. “Seize the moment, brother.”

—