“Furthermore, Elder Sister-in-Law almost certainly knew about Cui Nong — and quite possibly knew that Elder Brother was involved in her death.”

“Cui Nong’s was a double death?” Both Jing Zhi and Murong stared in shock. “That’s… that’s truly too cruel.”

“Miss, everything you’ve put together explains every clue and inconsistency perfectly. It’s as if you were there at the scene when it happened.”

Though Yan Qing had not been able to perform an autopsy, with her many years of forensic experience as her foundation, her reconstruction of the events should be somewhere between eighty and ninety percent accurate.

“Calculating the time, Cui Nong’s parents should be arriving soon. Jing Zhi, find an opportunity to meet with them alone and tell them what happened, as fully as you can. Right now, the only people who can compel the Jinlin Guard to reopen the case are Cui Nong’s closest kin.”

Jing Zhi understood the weight of what she’d been asked to do, and her expression turned solemn. Regardless of whether Cui Nong had been motivated by social climbing, the fact that two lives had been lost was more than enough to send Jing Zhi’s sense of justice blazing.

One thing, however, had been nagging at her, and she had swallowed it back several times before deciding to speak.

“Even though he is my Elder Brother, the law makes no exceptions for sentiment.” Yan Qing had already read Jing Zhi’s thoughts and spoke to answer her unasked question before she could voice it. “Emotion is no justification for allowing a criminal to go on living freely.”

Once, she had a childhood friend she’d been fairly close to, who had taken a life through negligence. And Yan Qing had been the forensic examiner assigned to the case.

The friend’s parents had secretly come to find her, hoping she might exercise discretion and write a report ruling the death accidental. She had refused them without hesitation — and afterward, her “lack of human feeling” was repaid with the friend’s parents pointing at her face and cursing her as a heartless ingrate.

In the end, the friend was sentenced to four years for manslaughter. Both the friend and the parents declared they were severing all ties with her.

What they didn’t know was that the excellent lawyer who represented the friend at trial had been arranged through her own quiet intervention, and the reason the sentence was reduced to only four years was that she had discovered precise evidence during the autopsy proving the act had been unintentional — along with the faint, residual signs that the friend had made an emergency attempt to save the victim.

She had never said any of this aloud. Because she was a forensic examiner, and everything she did was done to be clear before her own conscience, and to be worthy of the dead.

Of these experiences, Jing Zhi and Murong knew nothing. In their eyes, Yan Qi had never treated Yan Qing particularly well, and at times had openly sided with Yan Qin in making things difficult for her. That Yan Qing harbored no great warmth toward this Elder Brother of hers was perfectly understandable.

By the time the dinner hour approached, Cui Nong’s parents and younger brother had arrived to claim her body. Jing Zhi had been following alongside Steward Song the whole time, looking for a moment to approach Cui Nong’s family privately.

Back in Yan Qing’s courtyard, the kitchen had already sent over the day’s menu options.

The Yan Family was a large and prosperous household. Every meal hour, the kitchen was always bustling with activity. When Master Yan was at home, he occasionally gathered everyone together to dine. When he wasn’t, each courtyard ate separately.

All the other courtyards ate whatever the kitchen prepared. Only Yan Qing’s courtyard was different — the person managing the kitchen would send someone over to ask for her preferences and prepare a custom menu tailored to her tastes.

Yan Qing glanced over the menu the servant had delivered and said mildly, “There’s no need to send a menu from now on. Whatever the kitchen prepares, bring that.”

The servant was clearly put in a difficult position. “Sixth Miss, these are the steward’s instructions. Won’t you please choose a few dishes?”

“I am a member of the Yan Family, so my meals and allowances should be the same as any other member of the Yan Family. There is no need for special treatment. If Father asks about it, tell him this is my own preference.” With that, she did not glance at the menu again.

The servant stood there for a moment, then said “Yes” and quickly withdrew.

Back in the kitchen, the servant reported the exchange to the steward…