Lin Xiao arrived at the palace gate, and from a distance he could already see a slender, petite figure in Daoist robes standing before the white jade balustrade.

Lin Xiao quickly slowed his pace, discreetly steadying his breathing. This was the first time she had come looking for him — he was a little surprised, and more than that, filled with an inexplicable and inexpressible joy. Though he did his utmost to conceal it, traces of it still showed on his face.

The gate guards saw Lin Xiao walk past with a radiant, glowing expression and exchanged a puzzled glance with one another. This Commander Lin was famous for his stern, unsmiling bearing — yet this smile of his was like ice and snow melting away: beautiful, certainly, but also honestly quite beyond their comprehension.

Qin Yao had been standing with her hands clasped behind her back, curiously examining the solemn-faced guards and the towering palace walls. Seeing Lin Xiao come out, she quickly went forward to meet him: “Young Lord.”

Lin Xiao gave her a quick once-over. She was still wearing that grey-blue Daoist robe, her jet-black hair bound up at the crown of her head, revealing a length of snow-white, delicate neck. Her appearance was undeniably fine — but what was more rare was this quality of clean and refreshing ease about her. A pity only that her complexion was still fair to excess and lacking in color. Ever since that very first time he had seen her, Lin Xiao had suspected she might have a constitution of innate deficiency, but regrettably he had never found an opportunity to ask her about it. He had a vague feeling that this might be connected to her becoming a Daoist.

The two drew near one another. Lin Xiao asked: “A’Yao — is something the matter?”

Qin Yao gave Lin Xiao a formal bow, then said with a note of slight embarrassment: “Forgive me for intruding. But, Young Lord — do you still remember the young woman who was sitting beside you at the Donglai Establishment that evening, urging you to drink?”

Lin Xiao was first taken aback, then felt a touch of discomfort. So she really had seen it. The Crown Prince and Seventh Brother never went drinking without having beautiful women for company, and that evening had naturally been no exception. At the time, he had vaguely glimpsed a familiar figure in the doorway and had thought it was a trick of his imagination — but it turned out she had really been there.

He could not help feeling a little chagrined. Would she think of him as a frivolous and dissolute person because of this?

After a quiet pause, he said: “I remember there being someone like that at the time, but I did not pay particular attention.”

This was the truth. He had never been inclined toward the games of romance and coquetry, and had absolutely no interest in the painted songbirds and swallows surrounding him — how could he have paid particular notice to a concubine-companion urging drinks?

“Oh.” A look of disappointment crossed Qin Yao’s face. “That young woman died in Pingkang Ward yesterday. Her foster mother insists that my elder brother’s classmate is the murderer, and that gentleman has now been locked in the Court of Judicial Review’s prison.”

Lin Xiao was taken aback: “Something of this sort actually occurred?”

Qin Yao nodded: “What is strange is that when the woman died, both her eyes had been excavated — and yet there was not the faintest trace of grievance. I keep feeling there is something peculiar in all of this.” She looked up at Lin Xiao and deliberated for a moment, then said hesitantly: “Could I ask the Young Lord for a favor — to take me and my Master to examine the young woman’s body?”

She was not accustomed to asking others for favors, and without realizing it her tone had softened by three degrees.

This was not a particularly difficult matter, and moreover it was the first time she had come looking for him to ask for help. Lin Xiao immediately nodded: “Tell me when you would like to go, and I will make the arrangements.”

Qin Yao was astonished — he had not even knit his brows, and had agreed to it just like that, so simply?

Unable to conceal her relief and excitement, she thanked him repeatedly: “Many thanks, Young Lord. I appreciate your trouble.”

Lin Xiao rather did not want to hear the words “thank you” coming from her lips. After a quiet pause, he spoke again: “I will have someone see to the arrangements right away. Once everything is in order, I will escort you there myself. Where will you be waiting for word?”

“I will head straight back to Qingyu Temple to fetch my Master — we can return to the inner city in about one two-hour period. By then, we will go directly to the outside of the Court of Judicial Review’s prison to await the Young Lord’s word.”

Wang Yikun was not being held in the Court of Judicial Review’s prison, however, but had been temporarily detained at the Censorate.

He was now the top graduate of the examination results, a newly minted scholar who belonged directly to the Emperor — so as long as his guilt had not been established, he could not be held together with common criminals.

The Wang family had served as officials for generations, with an unblemished and prestigious reputation throughout the family. Wang Yikun’s father currently held the position of Minister of Finance — one of the most pivotal and influential pillars of state in the court. After Qu Ziyu and Feng Boyu went to the Wang residence to send word, although he was furious and shaken to his core, he could not immediately order his son released in an overt and brazen manner, lest it give others grounds to criticize him. After much deliberation, he arranged to have his son placed in the Censorate through indirect channels, where he was kept in comfortable conditions with plentiful food and drink.

The foster mother, a woman of iron-tongued tenacity, had fastened her accusation squarely on Wang Yikun — insisting he had killed her foster daughter. Since the present dynasty upheld the principle that “guilt is established by confession,” even though she could produce no further concrete evidence, the Censorate officials had no choice but to follow proper procedure and call the case to trial.

First came the accused’s own testimony.

Wang Yikun had grown up with everything going smoothly, and this was the first time he had ever encountered something so impossible to defend himself against. In the space of just one night, the honest and stout-faced young man had become visibly haggard.

He recounted: “Yesterday, I and my fellow scholars from the Zhaozhao Academy went out for drinks. On passing a wine house called the Flourishing Resplendence Establishment, we entered and ordered food and wine. I then rose to use the privy. As it turned out, although the wine house looked spacious, the privy was set on the second floor. After using it, I encountered the proprietress in the corridor. She said only that she would lead me back to my table, and guided me toward a closed room. At the time it was already growing somewhat dark, and the second floor had no lamps lit. Before I had a chance to get my bearings, the proprietress inexplicably pushed me into the room and then locked the door from the outside. I immediately knocked on the door and called for help. After quite some time, the door finally opened — but the proprietress came back with a number of her staff and blocked me inside the room, all the while shouting that I had killed someone. Only then did I discover that a young woman was lying on the floor of the room.”

He raised his head, full of furious indignation: “Censorate Director, I have never even met that young woman — I did not even know her name. Why would I, for no reason, do her harm? It is obvious that the proprietress was the one who set the trap, and is deliberately trying to frame me!”

His father, Wang Weitang, sitting behind the curtain listening, nearly choked with rage at his son’s words. For all his years of studying, his son could not even maintain a basic vigilance against people, and had so easily been tricked by a common market woman. It was infuriating.

Next came Qu Ziyu and Feng Boyu testifying before the court. Both were the finest and most outstanding examples of young men — their speech clear and articulate. In just a few sentences, they reconstructed the events of that day, establishing that Wang Yikun had arrived at the wine house with them and had not even had time to commit the crime — so what murder was there to speak of?

But the proprietress, Wen Niang, told a completely opposite story: “Master Wang had long been acquainted with our Yao Niang, and had harassed her repeatedly out of lust. Yao Niang did not dare show anger and could only deal with him as best she could each time they met; when she truly could not avoid him, she would reluctantly endure his company for a short while. That day, Yao Niang had not been feeling well since morning — it was still early, and she was too tired to go back to the rear courtyard, so she rested on the second floor. By evening, Master Wang had come to drink with several friends, and on hearing that Yao Niang was on the second floor, he used the privy as a pretext to go find her. I happened to overhear sounds of a struggle coming from the room and — in fear of Master Wang’s violent temper — could only stand outside the door anxiously. Later, when the sounds coming from inside sounded truly wrong, and I was afraid Yao Niang was in danger, I finally summoned my courage and had the door broken in. But when we entered—” She said this, and her eyes reddened, her shoulders heaving in intermittent sobs. “When we entered we saw my Yao Niang lying on the ground, with no breath left in her. Your Honors, Yao Niang has grown up by my side since she was small — always gentle and obedient. Now she has blossomed into a young woman like a flower, and has not yet married — yet she has died this miserable death. Your Honors must seek justice for her!”

Wang Yikun’s jaw hung open. How could there be a person this shameless in the world? He was so taken aback that for a moment he even forgot to be angry, and it took him a long while before, trembling with fury, he pointed at Wen Niang and said: “You — you — how can you—”

Wen Niang did not look at Wang Yikun at all, only pressed a handkerchief over her eyes and went on sobbing with exaggerated heaves of her shoulders.

Qu Ziyu and Feng Boyu, standing to the side listening, both looked at Wen Niang in puzzlement. With a story full of holes this obvious, the slightest investigation of the scene would immediately expose the lies. Surely she was not so foolish as to be shooting herself in the foot?

Yet Wang Weitang, sitting behind the curtain, was thinking at an even deeper level than Qu Ziyu and Feng Boyu. Having soaked in the world of officialdom for many years, he had many allies, but also no small number of enemies lurking in the shadows. A frame-up this blatant, a trap this transparent — what was the other side’s true purpose? Could it be that this was not aimed at his son at all, but at him? The more he thought on this, the darker his expression grew.

At this point, an elderly, aged woman entered the hall. With practiced ease she gave the Censorate Director a bow, then said with downcast eyes: “This old woman has examined the matter and can confirm: Yao Niang is still a maiden of intact virtue.”

Qu Ziyu, Feng Boyu, and the others had no experience in such matters, and hearing these words, all found themselves somewhat ill at ease. Yet Wen Niang seemed extraordinarily shocked — she snapped her head up, her voice failing her: “Impossible!” Before realizing she had misspoken, she quickly clapped a hand over her mouth and lowered her head again.

The old woman paid her no mind, and simply waited for the Censorate Director’s reply.

The Censorate Director gave a nod and dismissed the old woman. He then summoned the coroner and asked: “Now that the body has been examined, what was the cause of the woman’s death?”

The coroner replied: “In reply to Your Honor — the cause of death was strangulation by the throat, leading to suffocation.”

“Were there any other wounds on the body?”

“There were.” The coroner hesitated for a moment. “Both eyes of the body had been excavated before death.”

At these words, the entire hall was shocked into silence. Everyone had assumed Yao Niang’s eyes had been removed after she died — but it turned out they had been gouged out while she was still alive. What savage brutality — just imagining it was enough to make one’s blood run cold.

Wen Niang, upon hearing this, began weeping again, whimpering and sobbing.

“Do you have evidence for this determination?” The Censorate was astonished, and pressed the coroner.

“This humble one has previously examined bodies from which the eyes were removed after death. If the eyes are removed post-mortem, because the blood within the body has already congealed and ceased to flow, very little blood is lost during the removal, and the face and head of the body are generally relatively clean. However, the body that was delivered yesterday, although someone had deliberately wiped the face clean, was soaked with long-since-dried blood around the hair at the temples, and its complexion was unusually pallid — clearly indicating that there had been a major loss of blood before death. This humble one therefore concludes that the eyes were excavated before death.”

The Censorate Director stroked his beard, then turned to question the constables who had gone to examine the body at the scene: “When you went to the Flourishing Resplendence Establishment to examine the body, was there a large quantity of blood near the body?”