In the sweltering mid-June weather, Zhu Yan’s forehead was beaded with sweat after examining the corpses for a while. Just as she was about to wipe it with her sleeve, Shen Du reached out with a silk handkerchief to dab her brow.
The handkerchief looked strangely familiar. Zhu Yan’s eyes suddenly widened as she remembered it was her own. Her third sister, Zhu Caiwei, often taught her embroidery in her spare time. Knowing she had to report to the Ministry of Justice daily and accompany Shen Du on case investigations and autopsies, Zhu Yan had made an improved version – longer and wider, with a double-layered face and ribbons on both sides. It was perfect for covering her face and blocking odors, so she always carried it. How did it end up in Shen Du’s hands?
“Shen…”
Before she could finish, Shen Du had moved behind her, passing the embroidered handkerchief through her hair and tying it. Seemingly unsure, he leaned in slightly and asked in a low voice:
“Is it too tight?”
Zhu Yan’s pretty face froze, nodding and shaking her head bashfully. She then looked up at him with some difficulty, a bewildered expression on her face.
Shen Du chuckled softly, adjusting the tightness himself. Seeing her watery eyes, his throat tightened. He quickly stepped back, pointing at the dismembered body parts in her hands and clearing his throat:
“Have you made any deductions?”
Zhu Yan followed his gaze. The person’s eyeballs had shriveled and sunk into the eye sockets, staring at her with black holes.
“Ah!”
Zhu Yan snapped back to reality, feeling somewhat surreal. Seeing Shen Du standing motionless, she chided herself for overthinking, yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that his behavior had been unusual lately.
“What? Do you want me to tie it again?”
Zhu Yan shook her head, focusing her thoughts, and began slowly:
“I estimate it’s been fourteen to fifteen years. Without dissection, I can’t be more precise.”
Shen Du’s eyes urged her to continue.
“The varying degrees of skin dehydration are similar to preserved fruits. First dried, then soaked in syrup, the fruit’s surface dehydrates unevenly over months or years. We can estimate the time based on this principle.”
Shen Du was taken aback. “Over a decade ago? Wasn’t the Half-Face Ghost incident only a few years back? Did they start so early? And why cause a commotion now?”
Some things were truly perplexing. Neither Shen Du nor Zhu Yan could understand.
“Some are from five or six years ago, others three or four. Li Kaixiang’s, for instance, is recent, so it’s mostly unchanged. But due to delayed preservation, there’s some livor mortis and internal organ decay. The food found in his abdomen matches Li Kairui’s account, with the addition of datura.”
Shen Du was aware of this. Li Kaixiang’s death was orchestrated by Ji Dafu, so naturally, the drinks were spiked. He moved closer to Zhu Yan, looking down at the dismembered parts in her hands, lost in thought:
“I fear these cases are not as simple as they appear. Their decision to cause a disturbance now must be to set the stage for a larger conspiracy.”
Zhu Yan stepped slightly away, straightening up. Her gaze became more solemn: “Grand Secretary, you must remain vigilant and solve this case quickly!”
Shen Du frowned in displeasure, “Husband.”
This woman’s constant use of “Grand Secretary” grated on his nerves.
Zhu Yan was startled, “What?”
Shen Du looked down at her, his usual impassive face now clearly showing dissatisfaction.
Zhu Yan coughed, her cheeks flushing slightly, “You never insisted on it before. Isn’t it just a form of address? Why be so particular? Besides, we’re on official duty now.”
But Shen Du persisted, “It’s different.”
Was this woman deliberately obtuse? He had laid his heart bare, and she either didn’t understand or didn’t want to.
“Grand Secretary” was how his subordinates addressed him. The difference between the two forms of address was one of distance.
Zhu Yan was equally uncomfortable. With so many dismembered bodies around, Shen Du’s insistence on her calling him “husband” made her wonder if he was running a fever.
Was this still the impartial, duty-bound White King of Hell, Grand Secretary Shen Du?
“How about,” Zhu Yan bargained, intimidated by Shen Du’s threatening gaze, “How about just Shen Du? Shen Du, let me tell you about these human preserves…”
Her small face was cupped and turned to face Shen Du, his angry expression all too real: “It must be ‘husband.'”
This…
The speechless Zhu Yan couldn’t help but roll her eyes at Shen Du. Seeing his serious face, she had to comply: “Alright, Grand… Don’t glare! I mean, Big Brother, Big Brother.”
“What Big Brother? Husband!”
When men become stubborn, they’re no less persistent than women.
Zhu Yan had no choice but to agree: “Husband, husband, husband. Happy now?” Phew, had Shen Du turned into a three-year-old? How childish.
Shen Du pressed his lips together, somewhat displeased. This was just lip service.
Never mind, good things come to those who wait.
Zhu Yan suddenly remembered something Wang Buzui had said. She led Shen Du to Er Mazi’s corpse, pointing at the characters carved on it, “Yesterday, Wang Buzui was muttering this phrase. What do you think it means?”
The body showed signs of decay, with a greenish tinge and livor mortis. Shen Du couldn’t see clearly, so he leaned in closer. As he raised his hand, something fell from his sleeve.
A small woven pig made of rattan – Zhu Yan had seen it before.
Noticing the fallen object, Shen Du quickly picked up the woven pig, blew off the dust, and tucked it back into his sleeve.
Suddenly, Zhu Yan’s mind cleared, as if awakening. She raised her hand and knocked her head a few times.
She spoke, “Shen Du, once this case is over and we return to the capital, let’s get a divorce!”
She wasn’t one to make unreasonable demands. She could admit that through their daily interactions, she had indeed developed feelings for him.
But Shen Du had another love. Between old love and new, people often say the new conquers the old, but that’s a lie.
An old love is like a thorn; when stirred, it can cause heartache.
A gentleman would wish others well in love, but she was no gentleman, nor did she wish to be petty.
Shen Du’s face instantly darkened. “What did you say?”
This sudden change in expression was like a thunderstorm breaking out on a sunny day. Zhu Yan instinctively trembled inside.
“Nothing.”
“Zhu Yan, I’m not deaf.”
Although Shen Du spoke casually, Zhu Yan detected a different tone.
Her blood rushed, and her mind boiled. “What’s wrong with suggesting a divorce? Or do you want to abandon me instead? They say a day as husband and wife brings a hundred days of affection. Though ours is fake, we at least have the title, right? We’ve worked on so many cases together, shouldn’t that count for something? Can you stop staring at my head? Killing me won’t solve anything. Spare my life, and you can summon me from the Ministry of Justice whenever you need me, isn’t that better?”
The more she spoke, the angrier she became, but at least some rationality returned. Consequently, her words became increasingly timid.
Shen Du exhaled, clutching his lower chest, unable to utter a word as he looked at Zhu Yan.
He was truly so angry his liver ached.