“Step back, step back — there’s nothing worth gawking at over a dead body. Move along, all of you, back to whatever you were doing.” The train officer on duty shoved the crowd back with rather rough gestures.

Someone near the front lost their footing, and their shin knocked against Yan Qing’s wheelchair. Murong quickly grabbed the handles, her expression displeased. “Please watch where you’re going.”

“It’s fine, he didn’t do it on purpose.” Yan Qing had intended to smooth things over, but her words caught the attention of the very person she was speaking about.

He had been standing just outside the carriage. Hearing her voice, he turned his head.

Yan Qing was still wondering whether to say hello when he was already striding over on his long legs.

The man had shed his uniform and wore a short black leather jacket, paired with black trousers and high-top leather boots — an outfit that would have been considered remarkably fashionable even in modern times. Yan Qing found herself quietly impressed by his sense of style.

Shi Ting lifted the cordon tape and said, “Come in.”

Yan Qing glanced around, confirmed he was addressing her, and asked, “A case?”

“Suspected.”

Since it was a suspected case, the carriage was technically a crime scene, and ordinary bystanders naturally could not enter freely — though she was one of those very bystanders herself.

Murong and Jing Zhi were naturally kept outside. Yan Qing wheeled herself forward and followed behind Shi Ting.

After only a few steps, the man ahead of her suddenly stopped. As she drew closer, he took hold of the wheelchair handles himself and pushed her forward.

Watching Shi Ting push Yan Qing away, both maids stood there momentarily dumbstruck.

The incident had occurred in Carriage 9 — a carriage with two soft-sleeper compartments and over forty hard seats. The deceased was found in Compartment 2.

The first to discover the body was one of the train’s attendants. According to her account, she had been passing by Compartment 2 when she noticed the door was slightly ajar. She had intended to remind the passenger to keep it shut for safety, but when no one answered her knock, she pushed the door open — and saw a red silk scarf fluttering from the curtain rod. When she leaned toward the window to get a closer look, the color drained from her face: hanging from that scarf was a woman, her body suspended outside the train window, being dragged forward by the moving locomotive.

“Seventh Brother.” A handsome young man stepped out of the compartment. He wore a grey-white shirt beneath a dark Western-style waistcoat, his necktie loosely and carelessly knotted — giving him the air of a rakish young gentleman.

Yan Qing and this young man exchanged a glance, a small question forming in her eyes.

The last time Cui Nong had thrown herself into the well, the detective who had handled the scene was this very same handsome inspector. What was he doing here too?

And both he and Shi Ting were in casual dress, which meant they clearly were not on official duty. Had they simply happened upon a murder case while traveling?

“Sixth Miss, how do you do.” The handsome inspector politely extended his hand, then noticed the white gloves he was wearing and suddenly remembered he had just examined the scene and handled the body. He gave a sheepish smile. “I am Bai Jianchuan. You may also call me Bai Jin.”

Men in Xin Guo had both a given name and a courtesy name. The given name — typically a single character — was used only by close intimates and one’s wife. The courtesy name — two characters — was what friends and colleagues used.

This dashing inspector’s given name was Bai Jin, and his courtesy name Jianchuan. Inviting Yan Qing to use his given name was a bit of a tease.

“This is Bai Jianchuan, captain of our Second Unit.” Shi Ting suddenly spoke up. “You may call him Captain Bai.”

Yan Qing smiled and inclined her head. “Captain Bai, how do you do.”

Bai Jin couldn’t help sneaking a glance at his own superior. The way it was phrased sounded like a straightforward introduction, and yet the more he turned it over in his mind, the more something felt slightly off — though he couldn’t quite put his finger on what.

“Director Shi, where is the body?”

“Inside. The forensic examiner is conducting his inspection.” As Shi Ting pushed open the compartment door, a wave of metallic, blood-tinged air washed over them.

—