Lin Sui’an thought that Jin Ruo’s skill at tracking and reading traces had grown yet again. To her eye, the embroidery room was tidily kept, with no sign of disorder, and it had been locked from the outside — so how on earth had he determined this was the primary crime scene?

“The most obvious clue is here,” Jin Ruo said, pointing to three evenly spaced circular marks on the low couch. “The surface of this couch is bamboo-woven, and the back of the cushion has three areas of wear. Based on their position and shape, there should originally have been an armrest here — Lian Xiaoshuang would have leaned against it while she embroidered. But the armrest is nowhere to be seen.”

Jin Ruo then pointed beneath the couch. “There is something under there.”

A Tang-era couch was similar to a low bed — four legs reaching the floor, suitable for sitting or reclining, with a hollow space beneath. The frame was solid wood and very heavy, seldom moved, so the area beneath was generally a neglected dusty corner.

Ling Zhiyan carefully reached in with his gloved hand and fished out a small, flat, rounded piece of wood. The top surface had white raw wood exposed, the underside was smooth, and the outer edge was coated in red lacquer. He sniffed it. “Ordinary poplar. The break is very fresh.”

Hua Yitang studied it for a moment. “By the shape, it looks like a fragment from the leg of an armrest.”

Jin Ruo set the fragment on the circular mark in the cushion — it fit exactly.

“When the killer strangled Lian Xiaoshuang, he accidentally broke the armrest. A fragment of the leg fell under the couch. When the killer cleaned up the scene, he must have missed it and left it behind.”

Jin Ruo pointed to a spot about three chi to the left of the low couch. The three of them tilted their heads to look, and found a thin layer of fine black debris on the floor — like ash. Unless one bent down and looked at an angle in just the right light, it was impossible to see.

Ling Zhiyan carefully dabbed up a small amount with his gloved finger. Hua Yitang sniffed it. “It’s burned charcoal ash.”

Lin Sui’an understood at once. “There was a brazier here.”

Jin Ruo stood and estimated the positions and distances. “The killer strangled the victim, laid her flat, then shifted her sideways. The brazier’s position was just right — close to the thighs.”

Lin Sui’an: “Convenient for the killer to brand the peach blossom mark on the body’s leg.”

Jin Ruo then gestured for the three of them to come to the two large crates against the wall. He pointed to the lid of the left crate. “All four corners have signs of wear. The lid has scratch marks. Originally, another crate of the same size sat on top of it.” He opened both crate lids — inside, each was packed full of embroidery cloth, stuffed in very tightly with almost no gaps. “The cloth has been packed in too densely — the original contents of the upper crate must have been transferred into these two.”

Lin Sui’an: “That is to say, the third crate very likely is the one that was used to transport Lian Xiaoshuang’s body?”

Jin Ruo nodded, and moved to the rear window. He pushed open the window and pointed at the muddy ground outside. “The ground outside the back window has a ring of marks that correspond in size to a crate. The crate had been placed outside the back window for some time, and at one point contained something heavy. Also—”

Jin Ruo stepped aside so the three of them could see more clearly. Caught in the hinge joint of the window frame were three strands of hair.

Ling Zhiyan: “The killer placed the crate outside the back window, then lifted the body and tipped it through the window into the crate. As the body went over the sill, those strands of hair were left caught in the frame.”

Hua Yitang’s fan waved rapidly. “It makes absolutely no sense — it is far too strange.”

“There is something even stranger.” Jin Ruo led the three of them out of the embroidery room and closed the door. “After the killer sent the body out through the back window, he deliberately cleaned the floor — which is why there are no obvious footprints or drag marks. And finally, he locked the embroidery room. I examined the lock before that surname Hua opened it, and it showed no signs of being forced. The killer had a key.”

“Perhaps the key was on Lian Xiaoshuang’s person, or in the embroidery room, so it would not have been surprising for the killer to have it. The real question is the killer’s behavior—” Ling Zhiyan frowned. “Why move the crate to the back window first, and then put the body in?”

Hua Yitang: “If the body were placed inside the crate first, it would be too heavy to carry easily.”

Lin Sui’an: “So the killer’s strength was insufficient—”

Jin Ruo: “That makes it even stranger. That crate is large and heavy. One person simply cannot carry it — it would have to be dragged. But there are no drag marks in the courtyard whatsoever.”

Ling Zhiyan: “Did the killer also clean the yard?”

“There is one other possibility,” said Hua Yitang. “The killer was not alone — there may have been an accomplice, and together they could move the crate to the back window ahead of time. But that too makes no sense: if they could carry the crate, why couldn’t they take the body along with it?”

A moment of silence.

Ling Zhiyan crossed his arms. “The killer was able to handle the body and the scene calmly and methodically after committing the murder. This indicates the killer is an extraordinarily cold and ruthless individual.”

Lin Sui’an scratched her head. “An ordinary person would not have such formidable psychological fortitude. So the killer is either a repeat offender, had this planned in advance, or is simply a person of innate ruthlessness.”

Hua Yitang tapped his own forehead with his fan. “But the killer left behind the armrest fragment and the charcoal ash — and there are even hairs on the window. That is not the work of a habitual criminal. It reads more like a first-timer.”

All three said in unison: “This killer is full of contradictions.”

Hua Yitang paced in a slow circle, thinking. “What if the killer did this deliberately?”

Ling Zhiyan: “To what end?”

Jin Ruo rolled his eyes. “Don’t ask me — I only tell you what the killer did. As for why the killer did it, you can figure that out yourselves.”

Lin Sui’an: “What was the murder weapon?”

Jin Ruo shook his head. “Not found.”

The four of them stared at the embroidery room, frowning for a long while, and arrived at no conclusion. They walked around to the back of the building. This time, Jin Ruo finally found drag marks on the ground — they extended from the back window of the embroidery room all the way to the rear gate of the residence. They pulled it open, and all four of them were stopped cold.

Beyond the rear gate was an alley — neither wide nor narrow. On both sides, it was packed with horse carts, donkey carts, ox carts, and flat-bed carts, all loaded with crates and large bundles of goods. A few cart drivers dozed against their bundles. A steady stream of carts came and went, and looking in the direction of the flow, it led directly to a section of the ward wall between the West Market and Jinxi Ward, which had been broken open to create a shortcut passage. By all appearances, this had become a makeshift parking area for goods vehicles.

With traffic this dense, any trace of evidence would naturally have been obliterated long ago.

Jin Ruo let out a click of his tongue, pulled a packet of white sugar cake from inside his robe, and strolled over to the cart drivers, eating as he struck up a casual, friendly conversation.

Hua Yitang, Lin Sui’an, and Ling Zhiyan followed the traffic flow and continued ahead.

By this time it was past the early you-hour. Yidu was perpetually shrouded in mist and cloud, so night fell earlier here. The sky had taken on a vast inky blue. The lanterns of the West Market had been lit, shops were shutting up one by one, but carts, horses, and people on the roads were still plentiful. They followed the main street of the West Market out through the ward gate, heading toward Jin River.

The Inner City District where the West Market sat and the Southern Third District where Huanhua Creek flowed were separated by Jin River, connected by the South City Bridge — a six-pier stone slab bridge, three zhang wide, with four lanes of two-way traffic, bustling with people and carts. Crossing the South City Bridge and continuing southeast for half a quarter-hour brought one to Zhang Yi Tower, where the famous Jin River Night Market began, stretching along the riverbank all the way east, past Scattered Flower Tower, and ending at the Small East Gate.

For the sake of nighttime lighting, starting from the West Market ward gate, both sides of the South City Bridge and the entire Jin River bank were lined with tall lamp posts — painted red and reaching over two zhang in height. Every evening as dusk fell, the constables of the West Market and the South Market would erect tall wooden ladders and hang string after string of lanterns on the posts. When the river wind stirred, the lantern strings swayed and drifted, a romantic sight.

Small vendors from both the west and south markets arrived early, pushing their carts to claim the best spots at the night market. Calligraphy and paintings, bronze wares, jewelry, musical instruments, fruits, and snacks were all laid out for sale. Zhang Yi Tower and Scattered Flower Tower even hosted evening reading groups and poetry gatherings organized by folk associations. As the saying went: “A thousand night-market lanterns light the jade-green sky; on high towers, crimson-sleeved guests teem and fill.” Smoke and shimmer rose from Jin’s waters, fragrance drifting on all sides — it was a scene of magnificence.

It was a pity that the three of them were in no mood at all to enjoy the night market. They stood side by side on the South City Bridge, staring at the rushing Jin River with troubled expressions.

Hua Yitang traced the positions of Jinxi Ward, the West Market, and Huanhua Creek through the air with his fan. “From here upstream toward Jinxi Ward, the entire stretch falls within Huanhua Creek’s upper reaches. Following the water flow, the area around the West Market and the South City Bridge is entirely plausible as a body-disposal point.”

Lin Sui’an: “But the West Market and the South City Bridge have enormous foot traffic. Throwing a crate that large into the river there would be far too conspicuous.”

Ling Zhiyan: “Lian Xiaoshuang’s time of death was between the you-hour and xu-hour of last night. The physician said the body lay undisturbed for at least three hours — meaning the body remained flat in the embroidery room until sometime after the chou-hour before being placed in the crate and moved.”

“Those cart drivers said that stretch of street is always crowded with goods carts — one more or one less would attract no notice, so wherever the killer parked the transport cart would have gone unnoticed as well.” Jin Ruo came over clutching his white sugar cakes — now down to two pieces, which he promptly stuffed into his mouth. “The Jin River Night Market runs until around the zi-hour, after which foot traffic thins considerably. If the killer disposed of the body after the chou-hour, it should not have been too difficult.”

Ling Zhiyan shook his head. “Calculating by the water flow speed, even if the body were dropped into the river right at the West Market exit, it would reach Huanhua Creek in half an hour. But the body was discovered at the shen-hour today — working backwards, the body should have been cast into the river around the wei-hour. The timing does not match.”

Hua Yitang fanned himself faster and faster. “If I were the killer, I would certainly not choose the daytime to dispose of a body — I would choose the dead of night. But the killer’s disposal time happened to coincide with the busiest period at the Huanhua Creek papermaking mill. So this timing was deliberately calculated. What was the killer’s purpose?”

He paused. “The Huanhua Creek incident caused such a commotion — if anyone had seen someone throw a crate into the river, they would have reported it to the authorities long ago. But three hours have already passed since the body was discovered, and there has been no eyewitness report at all. Which means—”

A bell rang in Lin Sui’an’s mind. She stepped up onto the bridge railing and leaped, grabbed the lamp post, and with both hands drove herself upward while her feet rapid-stepped against the post in quick succession. She shot to the top of the lamp frame and stood up straight, her black robes billowing fiercely in the night wind.

The series of moves was too swift and dazzling for words. The pedestrians and carts on the bridge all stopped, everyone gaping upward in stupefaction. Ling Zhiyan’s eyes went wide. Hua Yitang forgot to fan himself entirely. Jin Ruo shouted up: “Shifu, what are you doing?!”

Lin Sui’an: “Admiring the view. Enjoying the breeze.”

A crate large enough to carry a body could not be thrown in during the daytime without witnesses — which meant the disposal site was hidden. Yidu’s waterways were as complex as those of the Eastern Capital, and there must be some unknown underground channel or hidden conduit that fed into Huanhua Creek — most likely somewhere nearby.

Not far away, the Jin River Night Market blazed like a glittering galaxy. Jin River glittered with rippling light, everywhere a scene of brilliant illumination — everywhere, that is, except one spot.

Coming out of the West Market ward gate, to the west of the main road, lay a small patch of darkness. No light whatsoever. When the wind blew through, only faint tree shadows could be seen shifting vaguely.

Lin Sui’an flipped and dropped down, called “Jin Ruo, follow me,” stepped across the bridge railing, and vaulted over the crowd, running against the flow until she reached the dark patch — which turned out to be the outlet of a drainage channel.

Though called a drainage channel, it was more like a narrow stream, running down from the West Market district below, its surface covered by stone slabs over three cun thick. The drainage channel ran directly into Jin River, with Huanhua Creek’s tributary not far downstream. Apparently, for the sake of the city’s aesthetic, a line of dense pagoda trees had been planted along the side of the road, with low shrubs below the embankment. Lin Sui’an was about to go down to investigate when Jin Ruo, who had followed close behind, grabbed her arm. “Let me.”

Jin Ruo slipped sideways into the shrubbery and his figure vanished into the darkness in an instant. Occasionally a soft, gentle gleam could be seen flickering — the night-luminescent pearl Hua Yitang had given him.

Lin Sui’an knew she would be of little help down there and crouched at the roadside to wait. Far off, Hua Yitang and Ling Zhiyan came running toward her — both conspicuous, moving against the flow of people. Then suddenly, in the crowd behind them, Lin Sui’an spotted a small, squat man. He was poking his head about nervously, also moving against the current, wearing a melon-rind cap, and keeping a distance of five or six paces behind Hua Yitang.

Lin Sui’an snapped upright and barked: “Who goes there?!”

The shout startled everyone — not just the short man, but even Hua Yitang. Ling Zhiyan, to his credit, reacted instantly. He spun around without warning. The short man panicked and bolted. Ling Zhiyan launched after him in pursuit — but before he had taken two full steps, a dark gust of wind swept past his eyes. A foot shot out and planted itself on the short man’s back. The short man let out a shriek and went flat on the ground like a steamrolled pancake.

Lin Sui’an cheerfully peeled the short man up from the ground, gave him a shake, and held him up in front of Ling Zhiyan and Hua Yitang. “Caught a spy.”

The short man was about twenty years old, his trouser legs rolled up, both calves thick and muscular — clearly someone who had spent years in a running-errand type of work. His escape speed had been considerable, and if not for Lin Sui’an’s startling swiftness, he might well have gotten away.

The man had apparently never been caught this fast before in his life. He was trembling with fright, eyes nearly popping out of his head, his whole body sweating. “A-a-a-a noble heroine, spare me! I was just passing by!”

Hua Yitang smiled pleasantly, tapping the short man’s face with his fan. “Judicial Supervisor Ling, what is the penalty for following and harassing an imperial official?”

Ling Zhiyan’s expression was grave. “At the lighter end, exile. At the severe end, death by strangulation.”

“I didn’t! I wouldn’t! You have the wrong man!” the short man wailed. “I’m from the Yamen Gate — my name is Mao San. My gate master sent me to watch Lian Niangzi’s residence!”

Lin Sui’an: “……”

Yamen Gate? What kind of name was that for a sect?

“Your gate master knows Lian Niangzi?” Hua Yitang’s eyes turned sharply cold. “Don’t tell me it was your Yamen Gate that killed Lian Xiaoshuang!”

“No no no no!” Mao San shook his head frantically. “Our gate master was acting on someone else’s request!”

Ling Zhiyan: “On whose request?!”

Mao San was on the verge of tears. He shot a glance at Lin Sui’an — Lin Sui’an bared her teeth in a grin. Mao San’s face went paler still, and he curled his legs up, trembling like a frightened frog being dangled in midair.

“It’s … the head of the Wu Family in the southern district — Wu Zhengli.”

Hua Yitang narrowed his eyes. “Surname Wu, of the Zheng generation—”

“Yes yes yes — Head Wu is the elder cousin of the prefectural office’s Judicial Affairs Advisor Wu Zhengqing — we’re all one family!” Mao San said ingratiatingly.

Hua Yitang and Lin Sui’an exchanged an expressionless glance.

Hua Yitang: Well now — when fortune comes, even a wall can’t hold it back.

Lin Sui’an: After a whole evening’s work, we’ve finally got something.

“Why did Wu Zhengli send someone to watch Lian Xiaoshuang’s residence?” asked Ling Zhiyan.

“That’s … probably … to make sure nothing came out that would embarrass him …” Mao San’s eyes shifted evasively. “This Lian Niangzi seemed respectable on the surface — an embroiderer — but she was actually a covert woman of ill repute.”

(Author’s note: no updates for two days over the weekend — waving a handkerchief)