Hui An’s body was carried into the courtyard where she had lived. The nuns gathered at the courtyard gate — some grief-stricken, some frightened, some weeping in anguish.

Yan Qing had no proper autopsy instruments on hand, and could only conduct an external examination to determine the cause of death.

Fortunately, Hui An had a shaved head, so there was no need to remove her hair — the wound on the back of her skull was clearly visible.

“The deceased has three lacerations with subcutaneous hemorrhaging on the right occipital region, the right parieto-occipital region, and behind the right ear. On palpation, there is crepitus suggesting underlying skull fractures. Based on the severity of these injuries, there would have been extensive cerebral contusion and hemorrhage — this is the primary cause of death.”

Yan Qing continued examining the body’s exterior. Apart from the head injuries, there were a number of abrasions. “These wounds are fresh with no vital reaction — they were likely caused by the body being dragged and handled during recovery.”

Shi Ting nodded. “The injury to the back of the skull is not something the deceased could have inflicted herself. She was struck from behind. Can you determine the weapon?”

“The shape of the hemorrhagic pattern is roughly circular, suggesting a curved blunt instrument. To inflict this kind of blow, the object would need to have significant weight — most likely a metal object.”

“It’s a pity that the body was exposed to the current for so long,” Yan Qing added with some regret. “Otherwise there would have been more trace evidence.”

“A metal object with a curved surface?” Shi Ting turned over Yan Qing’s words in his mind, then turned and began searching Hui An’s room.

As abbess, Hui An’s room was furnished simply, with no valuables in sight. It was evident she had led a frugal life, free of any indulgence.

Against the southern wall beside the bed stood an altar table. On it rested a Buddha statue, and in front of the altar sat a bronze censer that should have held burning incense. But when Shi Ting lifted the censer, it was empty — and scattered around it were traces of spilled ash.

“It seems we’ve found the murder weapon.”

Shi Ting brought the censer to Yan Qing. “This censer is made of solid bronze — it has considerable weight. And look here — it’s been wiped, but there are still traces that appear to be blood.”

Yan Qing took it and examined it carefully, then compared it against the wounds on the deceased. “It does appear to be the one.”

“Can you determine the time of death?”

“Based on the degree of rigor mortis, death occurred between ten and midnight last night.”

“The music started at around nine thirty, which means Hui An was killed after the music began.” Shi Ting’s brow furrowed. “A rainy night, the sound of a guqin, the waterfall — Hui An and Hui Xiu’s deaths are nearly identical.”

“Why would the killer hang her in the waterfall after killing her?”

Shi Ting said, “It’s said that a corpse perpetually washed by flowing water can never find peace in the afterlife. The killer must have harbored deep hatred for the deceased.”

“Could it be someone she knew?”

“Given the time of death — after ten o’clock — Hui An would already have been resting. Only someone she knew could knock and enter at that hour. And this censer was sitting on the altar table, which was positioned beside her bed. A stranger couldn’t have approached the altar while Hui An was awake without triggering some kind of struggle.” Shi Ting swept his gaze around the room — clean, orderly, undisturbed. No signs of a fight. And based on the position of the wound, Hui An had her back to her attacker when she was struck. To let someone stand behind you so comfortably, that person had to be someone she trusted.

“So the killer must be inside Baiyu’an Convent,” Yan Qing said.

“Yes. The killer is hidden here, within these walls.”

Outside, the nuns were gathered — some whispering among themselves, some covering their faces to cry. When Shi Ting emerged, they all turned to look at him with bewildered expressions.

“Who was normally responsible for Abbess Hui An’s daily needs?”

“I was.” Jing Shu stepped forward, her expression one of deep sorrow. “I handled everything — her meals, her clothing, all of it.”

“Come with me.”

Jing Shu entered the courtyard. Perhaps at the sight of these familiar surroundings, grief welled up in her all at once, and she began to weep quietly.

“My condolences.” Shi Ting had her sit in a chair to the side. “The person who killed Abbess Hui An is still at large. I ask for your cooperation in our investigation so we can find the killer as soon as possible.”

Jing Shu wiped her tears. “Ask whatever you wish — I will answer truthfully. The abbess was good to me. I want to find her killer just as much as you do.”

Seeing that the grief in her eyes seemed genuine, Shi Ting said, “Tell me about Abbess Hui An’s activities last evening.”

“Last evening, the abbess first asked Jing Xin to take good care of the two of you, then went to recite sutras for a while. After dinner she said she was a little tired and wanted to retire early. But even though she said she wanted to rest, she still went through the convent’s account books — some devotees had recently pledged donations for incense offerings, and she was planning to renovate the back shrine hall.”

“Was Hui An normally very frugal?”

“The abbess came from a poor family. Even after becoming abbess, she continued to live simply — her food, clothing, and lodgings were no different from ours. She never set herself apart. She would rather wear a robe that had been mended again and again than spend money on a new one. Every bit of income she had went into developing this convent.”

“Why was she so devoted to building up the convent?”

“Because of the war. The abbess was displaced when she was young and nearly starved to death on the roadside. It was the old abbess who found her and took her in. When she first came to the convent, Baiyu’an was just a small nunnery — not well known in the area, with few visiting devotees. The old abbess had her heart set on growing Baiyu’an into something great, and poured tremendous effort into it. Before she passed, she asked our abbess to take her place and charged her with making Baiyu’an the largest convent in the region.”

“What was Hui An like in her dealings with others?”

Jing Shu could no longer hold back her quiet sobbing. “The abbess was a good person. She was kind to everyone and never struck or scolded us. Everyone was fond of her.”

“Were you aware of any grievances between her and anyone else? Not necessarily open quarrels — I mean situations where something she did may have harmed someone’s interests or gone against someone’s wishes.”

“The abbess cared only about Baiyu’an. The treatment of those of us who lived here was quite ordinary, and our monthly wages were meager. Many of the nuns here, though they had entered monastic life, still had family members to support — some had relatives who depended on what they earned to survive. I’ve heard people grumble privately that the abbess was too strict, that she would rather pour money into dead stone and wood than give it to the living.”

“Who said that?”

“Many people said it.”

“Whose families depended on them to survive?”

Jing Shu thought for a moment. “Jing Xin and Jing Yuan. Both come from poor families, and each has several brothers and sisters. Jing Xin in particular — her father and mother are both ill and on medicine year-round, and she has three younger brothers and two younger sisters. The whole family depends on her. She once told me that she never wanted to become a nun — her family told her it was easy work that paid well, so she agreed to come. She came here young, just like me. Jing Yuan’s situation is a little better. Her mother is ill, and her father works as a shopkeeper’s assistant at some shop. But her father doesn’t want to pay for treatment, so the cost of her mother’s medicine has always fallen to Jing Yuan.”

Jing Shu sighed. “Last month when wages were paid, the abbess withheld half a month’s wages from everyone on the grounds that the roof of Huaqing Hall needed repairs, saying she would make it up the following month.”

“Would she actually have made it up?”

Jing Shu shook her head. “When people heard that, their hearts sank. Because when the abbess said she would make something up, she never did.”

“And what did Jing Xin and Jing Yuan do afterward?”

—