At breakfast time, Ling Zhiyan came again.

The reason for that “again” was that he had come three days in a row.

Ten days prior, the serial drowned-bodies case that had cost Dali Court Prefect Chen Yanfan a third of his hair had at last been broken. The main culprit, Bei Meng Wen, was sentenced to immediate decapitation; the accessory, Yingtao, was sentenced to exile. The case documents were submitted to the Ministry of Justice and the Censorate for retrial. Given the case’s extremely brutal methods and profoundly damaging social impact, the Ministry of Justice and the Dali Court gave it special expedited treatment; within two days the retrial verdict was issued, affirming the original sentence.

Five days prior, Bei Meng Wen had been executed at the entrance to the South Market ward. The crowd of residents watching the execution filled every street and alley — comparable to a grand festival. The prisoner cart carrying Bei Meng Wen set out from the Dali Court prison, traversed the southern city of Luo, crossed the Luo River, traveled south along Zhongqu Avenue to Changxia Gate, then returned by the same route to the South Market. This was the specially designated procession route for the most heinous criminals. The Dali Court constables and prison attendants escorted the cart forward, with bronze gongs clearing the way ahead, and three stentorian constables read aloud the criminal’s offenses and the Three Tribunals’ verdict the entire way — its purpose being to popularize the law, deter crime, and educate the people. The drowned-bodies case had one added element: the refutation of the rumor about “the Water Serpent Spirit’s killings.”

Despite the Dali Court having made advance plans and setting out a full hour early, the onlooking crowds on the route were so dense that traffic was severely congested, and the prisoner cart’s procession moved extremely slowly. It nearly failed to arrive before the appointed time of execution. In the end, for the final stretch from Sishun Ward to the South Market, the Dali Court constables were forced to call out and clear a path ahead, and only by hurrying as fast as they could did they get Bei Meng Wen onto the execution platform before the midday hour.

Mu Xia had scouted the area early on and the day before had rented a tea house in Xishan Ward. Sitting on the third floor, one had a perfect view of the execution grounds without having to see any bloody scenes — undoubtedly the best viewing spot. The scene of rotten vegetables and spoiled eggs being hurled that Lin Sui’an had anticipated did not materialize — the custom of wasting food as an outlet did not seem to be in fashion here. The residents of the Eastern Capital were simple and frugal in their ways, using only clods of earth — each throw producing a puff of dust — accompanied by the distinctly flavored curses of the Eastern Capital dialect. It had its own peculiar charm.

The moment Bei Meng Wen’s head hit the ground, nearly half the Eastern Capital erupted.

In the crowd, Lin Sui’an spotted familiar faces: the parents of Feng Er Niang, the grandfather of Qu Si Niang, the two elder sisters of Zhou Xinghong. They did not cheer. Instead they knelt on the ground and wailed, as though wishing to cry out all the grief and bitter resentment that had accumulated over so long.

Hua Yitang faced into the sunlight, his white robes billowing like snow in the wind. He poured out the tea in his hand onto the ground and said softly:

“The departed have departed; the living carry on. May our great Tang have no more unjust souls.”

Lin Sui’an’s gaze followed his voice upward toward the vast sky above the great and imposing Eastern Capital city and let out a long breath of relief.

After that, Ling Zhiyan became a regular guest at the morning table of the Hua Family’s sixty-sixth manor.

The day before yesterday, he had eaten two plates of filled pastries, three bowls of flat noodles, and one steamer of steamed buns, and brought one piece of news: the recommendation letter nominating Hua Yitang for the special imperial examination had been approved. He and Dali Court Assistant Minister Zhang Huai were the joint recommenders — the only candidate in this round of the special examination to be jointly recommended by two officials. In light of this good news, Hua Yitang swallowed his fury over Ling Zhiyan’s shameless act of packing up four steamer trays of steamed mutton to take away on his way out.

Yesterday, Ling Zhiyan had set his sights on the “Brahmin Light Tall Noodles” — quite discerning of him. This particular pastry was made using the latest technique for producing “cane sugar,” a rare delicacy — even a common food stall would charge ten coins per steamer tray. Ling Zhiyan ate three trays by himself and then attempted to walk off with the last two, but fortunately Jin Ruo’s mouth was big enough to gulp down the remaining three pieces in one go, much to Judicial Inspector Ling’s reluctant and disgruntled departure with two large packets of filled pastries instead.

Today, Judicial Inspector Ling arrived at the break of dawn. When Lin Sui’an looked up she nearly spat out the mutton soup in her mouth. He had actually brought two four-tiered large food boxes — red lacquered rosewood, square and solid — clearly intent on taking the “eat what you can’t finish and pack the rest” philosophy to new heights. Jin Ruo’s eyes went so green with envy they might have popped out.

The only person genuinely happy was Yita. Ling Zhiyan was perhaps mindful that coming to freeload every day was not entirely decent, so he was particularly gracious about Yita’s tea — accepting whatever was served, occasionally offering a word or two of praise. In Yita’s heart his status was now nearly on a par with Fangke.

Hua Yitang’s fan tapped tap-tap-tap against his head. “Ling Sixth Young Master, have you taken my Hua family for your Dali Court’s canteen?”

Ling Zhiyan with unhurried composure transferred several plates of steamed buns on the table into his food box, his movements composed and well-measured, with the bearing of a great family’s scion. “The culinary skill of the Hua Family chef is without equal in the Tang realm. Assistant Minister Zhang is most fond of it, and Director Chen has also spoken his praises.”

Hua Yitang rolled his eyes and gave a short “Ha.” “Spare me the flattery! Just say what you’re here for.”

Ling Zhiyan ate two filled pastries, wiped his mouth, and sat up straight. “Assistant Minister Zhang and Director Chen have said that since the Fourth Young Master of the Hua Family is so generous in his gifts—” (Hua Yitang roared: “I never gave anyone a gift — it was you with your shameless thick face who took it all!”) “—they would not accept something for nothing. The Ministry of Works Vice Minister Lu Yingjie is hosting a banquet today. If the Fourth Young Master of the Hua Family is not occupied, he would be welcome to join Judicial Inspector Ling and Assistant Minister Zhang in attending.”

Oh ho! Lin Sui’an understood — the Dali Court crowd was going to help Hua Yitang make connections!

“Ministry of Works Vice Minister Lu Yingjie — if I recall, he and Ministry of Rites Vice Minister Wen Zhong are quite close—” Hua Yitang blinked, snapped open his fan with a flourish, reclined against his armrest in a posed manner. “Ah, now I understand completely. I helped your Dali Court crack the drowned-bodies case, and you are certainly grateful beyond measure and filled with a thousand parts admiration and ten thousand parts respect — yet too embarrassed to say so directly. So you’ve racked your brains and wrung yourself left and right to come up with this roundabout way of thanking me.”

Lin Sui’an: “…”

How does anything that passes through this fellow’s mouth come out tasting different?

Ling Zhiyan cleared his throat with some awkwardness. “In any case, tonight please bring your letter of recommendation and your poetry and literary compositions, Fourth Young Master. Assistant Minister Zhang will personally recommend you to Vice Minister Lu.”

Hua Yitang nodded. “A letter of recommendation can certainly be written on the spot. The issue is — I never write poetry and I’ve never composed essays.”

Dead silence fell across the room. Even the sound of Jin Ruo chewing his steamed bun stopped. Everyone stared at Hua Yitang in unison.

Ling Zhiyan’s composed face began twitching of its own accord. “You… what did you just say?!”

Hua Yitang fanned himself with a smile. “Hua is, after all, the foremost wastrel of Yangdu. His time is naturally consumed by eating, drinking, and making merry. As for composing verse and writing essays — oh dear, oh dear — not my strength, not my strength.”

Fangke gave a dismissive “Tch.” Jin Ruo rolled his eyes so hard they might have rivaled a steamed bun. Yita remained as enthusiastic as ever, crying out “Fourth Young Master is magnificent!” Mu Xia smiled warmly and poured Hua Yitang a cup of tea to wet his throat.

Lin Sui’an found it rather amusing watching Ling Zhiyan’s face turn blue-green. Suddenly he shot to his feet, drew a long breath, and bellowed: “Hua Yitang!”

Hua Yitang called back cheerfully: “Right here!”

Ling Zhiyan closed his eyes, suppressed his fury, handed both food boxes to Mu Xia — “Please deliver these to the Dali Court” — then turned and dragged Hua Yitang out the door. “Now, right now, immediately — go write poetry!”

Hua Yitang was yanked and stumbled along, crying: “Hey hey hey, Ling Sixth Young Master — you can’t rush a duck into the water or shove a sow up a tree, can you?!”

“You’re not even as capable as the sow!”

“Now that’s not a fair comparison — where in the world would you find a sow of such magnificent bearing and handsome appearance… no, wait, I’m male — also not right — I’m not a pig either — oh my, that hurts, that hurts, that hurts — Ling Sixth Young Master, slow down — as the saying goes, pulling a seedling won’t help it grow; rushing things leads to failure; some matters cannot be forced — ah, ah, ah, ah—”

Everyone watched the two figures disappear into the distance, at a collective loss for words.

Jin Ruo asked Mu Xia: “Is that Hua fellow truly completely unprepared for the examination submission?”

“Fourth Young Master naturally prepared everything long ago.” Mu Xia said with a warm smile, picking up the food box. “He just wanted to tease Judicial Inspector Ling.”

Jin Ruo: “…”

Fangke: “Has the Fourth Young Master of the Hua Family been so idle he’s about to fart?”

Lin Sui’an: “I actually think today is the happiest day Judicial Inspector Ling has had in a long while.”

Everyone was stunned: Which eye did you use to see Judicial Inspector Ling being happy?

Quite happy, Lin Sui’an thought contentedly to herself, sipping her mutton soup — just look at those bulging veins on the dashingly handsome Ling’s forehead, those rolling, round, wide eyes, and that decisive, powerful bellow of a voice — far more energetic than in the past two days.

Hua Yitang paid a painful price for his amusement: Ling Zhiyan locked him in a room and decreed that he could not come out until he had written twenty poems. Before leaving, he also dispatched Ming Shu and Ming Feng to guard the door. Hua Yitang howled and wailed inside the room like a ghost in the night — and after all the labored moaning and halting effort he finally managed to produce one poem.

The poem read as follows:

Alone and cold, tears soaking both my front lapels, Boundless sorrow as the evening sun sinks west. Head empty as the autumn wind that comes to nothing, Sixth Young Master, hear my mournful nightly cries.

Everyone’s unanimous verdict: heartfelt and sincere — complete and utter nonsense.

At the beginning of the You hour, Ling Zhiyan arrived. Upon seeing Hua Yitang’s poem, he seethed with fury, face iron-grey. After much internal struggle, he had no choice but to resign himself, and with a grim expression invited Lin Sui’an and Hua Yitang to board the carriage together, preparing to head to Vice Minister Lu’s residence.

Lin Sui’an was surprised: “I’m not taking the special examination — what use am I at such a gathering?”

Ling Zhiyan: “Vice Minister Lu has long been fond of collecting and appreciating weaponry. He has long heard the name of Thousand Purity and particularly extends an invitation to Lin Niangzi to attend, wishing to view this ancient legendary weapon in person.”

The Ministry of Works Vice Minister oversaw all state-run industries including the country’s civil and water engineering projects, military weapons, machinery, mining, and textiles, among others. He undoubtedly had considerable expertise in weapons and blades — perhaps he would have a different perspective on Thousand Purity’s origins.

Lin Sui’an nodded. “It is an honor beyond expectation that Vice Minister Lu should not disdain to invite me.”

Vice Minister Lu was greatly pleased, gave three loud slaps to Lin Sui’an’s shoulder, and went off cheerfully to welcome the next guests. Only then did Lin Sui’an understand why Hua Yitang’s features had just been thoroughly rearranged — this fine fellow had extraordinarily powerful hands. She wondered who would win in a comparison with Wan Lin.

Before long, Lin Sui’an saw Bai Ruyi — apparently thinner than before, his body so slight it seemed like a sheet of paper. He saluted feebly, then sought out a corner to sit down in, eyes glazed, staring at the tea cup on the table as if he might fall asleep at any moment.

Hua Yitang came over and murmured: “Do you think the Bai family is pressuring him about marriage again?”

Lin Sui’an: “Thinking optimistically, perhaps he’s just been staying up late in diligent study.”

Assistant Minister Zhang: “Speaking of which, I wonder if Fourth Young Master has heard a certain joke going around about the special examination?”

Hua Yitang: “Does Assistant Minister Zhang mean the joke that the special examination is for the Holy Emperor to select a consort?”

Ling Zhiyan: “What?!”

Assistant Minister Zhang raised an eyebrow: “So Fourth Young Master knows it already.”

Hua Yitang fanned himself with unhurried grace. “Hua naturally heard it as a joke—” the fan paused, “—but there are those who have taken it seriously!”

Ling Zhiyan’s eyes flew open suddenly. Lin Sui’an followed his gaze, and inwardly let out a soft “wow.”

Su Yiyun floated in. He wore robes white as snow, his bearing like drifting clouds, his hair black as satin, a jade hairpin of emerald green at his crown, his complexion so fair and luminous it was nearly translucent. His brows and features were already handsome; today they appeared particularly beautiful, like a white crane poised for flight. In an instant he became the focal point of the entire room.

“He’s that fellow from the Suizhou Su family — what’s his name again?” Zhang Huai said in surprise. “Why does he look like a completely different person?”

The frequency of Hua Yitang’s small fan waving quickened considerably; he even laughed aloud.

Lin Sui’an was suddenly enlightened: so the elixir from Hao Sixth’s place also had the side effect of “whitening the skin, smoothing wrinkles, and restoring hair growth.”

[Closing skit] Chen Fanfan (ears perked up): Did I just hear some kind of hair restoration secret formula??