Since the Su Family had reserved the entire venue for the evening, Sanhua Tower’s first through fifth floors were closed to all other patrons. The proprietor had specifically set aside the private rooms on the fifth floor for the performers — the courtesans from Red Fragrance House, the musicians from the music pavilion, and the dancers from Eternal Day Pavilion — to use for changing costumes.
Minina was the featured dancer of Eternal Day Pavilion — in modern terms, something like the principal of a dance company — and had been specially arranged in the highest-grade room, called the Swallow Hairpin Chamber, situated in a particularly secluded location.
Coming down from the staircase, winding past a brilliantly colored folding screen four zhang long and one zhang high, then walking to the very end of a corridor — there one would see the wooden sign for the Swallow Hairpin Chamber. The double-leafed door of green panels and red lattice was tightly shut. Beneath the door’s crack seeped a pool of vivid red blood, spreading outward along the grain of the floorboards, like a grotesque map drawn in blood.
The proprietor of Sanhua Tower, a few servants, and several male dancers stood guard far back from the door, frightened to a pallor, and came hurrying forward when they saw Hua Yitang and the others arrive. “Adjutant Hua, look — this, this, this blood, blood, blood—”
Fangke crouched down, dipped a finger in the blood, and smelled it. “Human blood.”
Ling Zhiyan estimated the distance. “For it to have flowed all the way out to here, the volume of blood is very large. Inside there is most likely—”
Hua Yitang’s expression grew somber. “Proprietor, seal all entrances and exits immediately — no one is to leave Sanhua Tower. Jin Ruo, send word to the Pure Gate disciples stationed outside Sanhua Tower. Have the nearest disciples go to the prefecture office — tell them it is my order, and have the constable bring the officers of the law here immediately as reinforcement.”
Jin Ruo acknowledged and sprinted to the window at the far end of the corridor. She leaned out and fired a signal flare up into the night sky.
The proprietor mopped the sweat from his face in frantic, disordered strokes. “All the guests tonight are noble families. If they insist on leaving, I — I wouldn’t dare stop them!”
Hua Yitang: “Tell them — any person who dares step one foot outside Sanhua Tower should not blame Lady Lin’s Qian Jing for cutting off their legs.”
“Yes, yes, yes!” The proprietor led his servants and rushed off.
Ling Zhiyan crossed to the door of the Swallow Hairpin Chamber in two strides and pushed at it — it didn’t budge. He turned to the dancers. “Are you certain Minina is inside?”
One of the male dancers, also from the western regions and speaking with the distinctive rolled consonants of that accent, replied: “Inside. After performance, she went back, and has been inside ever since. Has not come out.”
Lin Sui’an stepped forward, pressed her palm against the door panel — being careful not to use too much force — and there was a cracking sound from within. The door bolt had snapped. The two door panels swung open slowly with a drawn-out creak.
A strange odor rushed out to meet them — fishy and sweet at once, fragrant and sour together. Lin Sui’an and Ling Zhiyan simultaneously covered their noses and stepped back half a pace, so stung they could barely keep their eyes open.
Behind them, Jin Ruo drew in a sharp, audible breath.
Lin Sui’an forced her eyelids open. She saw blood everywhere, a long smear of it running from the doorway deep into the room. Her gaze followed the blood slowly forward — and upward — and came to rest on a pair of suspended feet. Bare feet. Blood dripped from the toes. Gold bells hung from the ankles. A pair of scarlet lantern trousers was soaked through with blood and pressed flat against the legs. A horizontal saber was buried in the abdomen, blood dripping steadily from the blade’s edge. The skin of the abdomen was startlingly white. Scattered golden hair curtained the chest and face. Three thick leather cords were bound tightly around the neck and both wrists. The head was drooped sideways to the right. On the left side of the neck was a gaping bloody cavity. Minina’s entire body was suspended from the ceiling beam in the shape of a cross. She was completely dead.
The ceiling and the left wall were splattered with blood. Behind the body, the window was thrown open. Through it one could see the inky night sky and the lively, luminous glow of the Brocade River night market. The river wind howled. The body swayed in the wind, and a strand of golden hair lifted — revealing half of one ink-green eye.
A ringing sound went off in Lin Sui’an’s mind. Minina’s eye seemed to rush toward her in a three-dimensional burst. The world before her suddenly went black, then white. Gradually, the image in her vision became a brilliant full moon, and reaching branches — like the pale, withered hands of many ghosts — straining desperately toward it. In her ears rose a low sound of weeping and laughing, the crying like a ghost’s, the laughter like a demon’s, enough to make one’s blood run cold.
Then an icy pair of hands covered Lin Sui’an’s eyes. Her legs went unsteady, and she leaned back into the person behind her, and caught the scent of an endless, gentle fragrance of fruit wood.
Lin Sui’an’s racing heart slowly settled.
“I saw the moon. Dead trees. There was crying. And laughter…”
“All right. I understand.”
Hua Yitang’s voice grew softer, but his hands grew colder, and a faint dampness was seeping from his palms.
Lin Sui’an heard Jin Ruo’s footsteps entering the room, treading through the blood with soft, wet sounds. Lin Sui’an pulled Hua Yitang’s hands away. Her fingers pressed against his damp palm. “Were you frightened?”
Hua Yitang looked away without speaking.
Lin Sui’an understood. “The body’s positioning is admittedly rather alarming this time.”
Hua Yitang turned to look at her abruptly, eyes bulging. “I was scared—”
Lin Sui’an blinked innocently.
Hua Yitang suddenly deflated. “Never mind.” He pulled out his “Four Small Treasures” and rapidly sketched and noted down everything in the scene.
The Swallow Hairpin Chamber had originally been a private dining room and had only been temporarily commandeered. The room’s usual furnishings — sitting couches, table desks, armrests and the like — had all been moved and stacked against the walls: ten table desks in total, ten sitting couches, ten armrests. Tea sets and tableware were neatly arranged on the rack near the door. By the window stood a floor-length bronze lampstand with candelabras. All the candles on it had been extinguished.
Jin Ruo tiptoed around the room in a circuit, shaking her head repeatedly. “There’s too much blood — the traces are all buried under it. Everyone come in.”
Fangke had already put on his autopsy gloves and examination coveralls, and was the first to enter. He circled Minina’s body once, measured the wound at the abdomen with his fingers, and looked up at the ceiling beam.
Jin Ruo and Ling Zhiyan leapt upward in a single bound and lay along the beam, examining it with care.
Ling Zhiyan: “Three ox-hide cords, one finger thick. Judging by the knots, they were tied by the same pair of hands. There is not much marking on the beam beneath the cords — the cords were not there for long—”
Jin Ruo tilted her head close, pressing her eye almost against the beam. “No dust on the beam — it must have been cleaned not long ago.”
Fangke spread a reed mat and a white cloth on the clean section of the floor, then passed Lin Sui’an a pair of gloves and a coverall. “Bring her down.”
Lin Sui’an put on the equipment, and carefully supported the body by the legs. Jin Ruo and Ling Zhiyan one by one loosened the leather cords at the neck and wrists. Minina slipped into Lin Sui’an’s arms. Her death had been very recent and rigor mortis had not yet set in. The body was still soft, and the skin still retained a faint trace of warmth. When Lin Sui’an laid the body on the white cloth, she almost felt as though the woman could still be saved.
Fangke parted the golden hair covering Minina’s face, revealing a beautiful pale countenance. Lin Sui’an sighed. This passionate, incomparable dancer would never dance again…
“The cause of death should not be difficult to determine. Shall we examine her here, or bring her back to the prefecture office?” Fangke turned to ask.
Hua Yitang clenched his teeth. “Examine here.”
“Just as well. The fresher, the more accurate.”
Fangke began pulling his autopsy tools from the large wooden case one by one.
Ling Zhiyan walked to the doorway, crouched down, picked up the broken door bolt and slid it back into position, then looked it over. “The door was bolted from the inside.”
Jin Ruo leaned out of the window and peered down. “This is at least ten-odd zhang above the ground. Unless someone is like Master or like Yun Zhong Yue — not entirely human — an ordinary person, or even an ordinary martial artist, would certainly die if they tried to drop from here.” She scanned upward. “And from here to the eaves of the sixth floor is three zhang, with nothing nearby to step on or push off from. Climbing up would mean dying even faster.”
Lin Sui’an shot Jin Ruo a look, then hung out the window and looked upward herself, confirming the same. Hua Yitang walked around the lampstand in a circle, picked up a half-used candle, smelled it, sneezed, and put it back down with great distaste. “Could this be a locked-room—” He stopped short.
Hua Yitang’s entire body froze in place. His eyeballs rolled wildly in all directions. His lips trembled frantically. “Ah — ah — ah — ah — ah—”
Lin Sui’an: “…”
What was happening to him? Had he glitched?
Jin Ruo pointed at Hua Yitang’s ankle. “Ah — ah — ah — ah—”
A pale white hand had appeared at Hua Yitang’s ankle, its arm extending directly out of the wall. Every hair on Lin Sui’an’s head stood upright — had the story switched to a ghost drama?!
Ling Zhiyan swept over like a gust of wind, crouched down for a close look, and pried the hand from Hua Yitang’s ankle. “There’s a pulse — it’s a living person.” With that, he rapped on the wall from which the arm protruded. With a click, the wall crumbled — revealing that it was only a paper screen, painted and textured to resemble the wall.
“You three between you don’t add up to one full measure of courage.” Fangke rolled his eyes, stepped forward with Ling Zhiyan, grabbed the hand, and dragged. Out from behind the screen came a woman in a faint, the outer corners of her eyes done in red, hibiscus blossoms in her hair — it was the courtesan Duan Hongning, first of Red Fragrance House.
Hua Yitang, thoroughly shaken, scrambled over to Lin Sui’an’s side, clutched her sleeve with one hand and pressed the other to his chest, calling out in distress. Jin Ruo, seeing it was a living person, instantly recovered all her courage and pressed in close to investigate. “This screen is movable — you can shift it aside.” She gave it a kick and squeezed through the gap. “There’s another room back here. Very dark.”
Ling Zhiyan lit a fire-stick and followed immediately. A moment of quiet — then the two of them gave simultaneous cries.
Hua Yitang: “Wha — wha — wha — what is it?!”
“Incredible!” Jin Ruo called.
Ling Zhiyan: “Fourth Young Master! Lady Lin!”
Lin Sui’an grabbed Hua Yitang by the collar and pulled him through as well. Visibility was severely limited — nothing but the one small point of Ling Zhiyan’s fire-stick light. Jin Ruo and Ling Zhiyan stood facing each other. The fire-stick’s glow fell to the ground and illuminated another person — lying spread-eagled on the floor, eyes closed. It was Wu Chengqing.
Hua Yitang pinched his nose. “What is that smell? It stinks horribly.”
It was indeed unpleasant. Like the rubbish bins of a seafood market, Lin Sui’an thought.
Jin Ruo crouched and felt for Wu Chengqing’s pulse, then made a disapproving sound. “What a shame — still alive.”
Hua Yitang took out his luminescent night pearl and looked around. This was a very peculiar room. Every window had been sealed shut — not a sliver of light came through. Against one wall stood a bronze lampstand matching the one in the outer room in style, with several half-burned candles on its holders.
Hua Yitang did not light those candles. Instead, he held the night pearl low and crouched down. Only then did Lin Sui’an notice — beside the lampstand was a wide, ornately decorated resting couch, and a small wooden side table. The table’s surface was bare. The couch also lacked its usual pillow and cushions.
“Hey, over here!” Jin Ruo beckoned Hua Yitang over and snatched the night pearl from his hand, holding it close to the floor. There — a trail of bloody footprints, heading toward the northernmost wall. Everyone followed the prints to the wall, where the last print was half a footprint, with the other half disappearing into the wall itself.
Jin Ruo grinned, rapped on the wall with her knuckles — a hollow sound — then felt around the wall’s surface until she found a concealed catch, hooked it, and pulled. A hidden door swung open.
Beyond the hidden door was another pitch-black passageway. Jin Ruo used the night pearl to light the way, watching as the bloody footprint trail grew fainter and fainter, until it was almost invisible. The passageway ended, and everyone squeezed through a small door at its mouth — and found themselves in yet another side room. Jin Ruo quickly searched the room, but there was no longer any trace of the footprints.
Lin Sui’an walked swiftly to the main door of the side room and pushed it open — to discover they had arrived at the third floor of Sanhua Tower. One turn, and there were Sanhua Tower’s interconnecting staircases, leading in every direction.
The entire floor was deserted. From above came the faint, muffled sounds of shouting from the sixth-floor pavilion.
Side story:
Lin Sui’an: This wretched detective’s constitution of mine.