Pixi drove the carriage at full gallop through the night.

From Da Ci Temple to the Jinxi Ward and Ma Chuan Street where Xiao Lian’s house stood, the shortest route was to follow Jinjiang Night Market all the way west, around the South Second Ward and past the West Market. By now it was nearly the midpoint of the hour of the Pig — close to when Jinjiang Night Market would close for the night. The road was packed with vendors, delivery men, and pedestrians, shoulder to shoulder — not just impassable by carriage, but a struggle even on foot.

Pixi saw that Lin and Hua were in a hurry, and volunteered to take a shortcut. It could indeed be said that this man deserved his reputation as the top driver of Duan Jiu’s estate — which lanes were less crowded at this hour, which lanes could fit a carriage, which ward gates had become little more than formalities, which streets allowed a carriage to gallop — he knew each one perfectly. He drove with seven twists and eight turns, weaving and threading through, somehow bypassing Jinjiang Night Market entirely. The carriage cut through the Yamen Quarter all the way into the inner city, squeezed in through a hole in the Western Market’s ward wall, made two more loops — and drew smoothly to a stop.

Lin Sui’an pushed open the window and looked out. The carriage had stopped in the narrow alley behind Xiao Lian’s house. The carriage body was wedged perfectly between two cargo wagons — a feat of parking that was nothing short of masterly. From this back alley, heading east to its end was the Western Market ward gate, and just outside the ward gate was the drainage ditch where the killer had dumped the body. Pixi had entered from a hole in the ward wall on the western and southern sides.

Hua Yitang was very satisfied. He tossed Pixi a gold leaf. “Pixi really is a living map of Yidu.”

Pixi was all smiles. “Fourth Young Master flatters me. I drive Miss Duan out every day — naturally I know every main road and side street in Yidu. I’ll wait here outside this gate. If the two of you need the carriage again, just call out and I’ll come.”

The government office’s seals were still on the back gate, unbroken. Hua Yitang peeled off the seals, and the two stepped quickly inside.

Xiao Lian’s house was just as it had been before — only quieter and darker. Hua Yitang produced a luminescent night pearl for lighting and skirted around the embroidery workshop. Ahead was the main wing.

In the pale moonlight, a solitary wind bell hung from the eaves. The night breeze moved through the overhang; the bell rang softly — ding, ding, ding — as though calling a name that would never receive an answer.

The two of them instinctively lightened their footsteps. Lin Sui’an leapt up and unhooked the wind bell. The ringing stopped. The bell lay quietly in Hua Yitang’s palm.

This wind bell was identical in form and markings to the marriage-luck bell at the Matchmaking God’s shrine — but inside and out it was mottled with rust, evidently left without any care for a long time. The paper slip below had faded; the writing on it was long past reading. Hua Yitang raised the night pearl, rotating the bell slowly, examining the inside carefully.

Lin Sui’an craned her neck forward to look as well. She simply could not make it out. The closer she leaned, the nearer she came to Hua Yitang’s shoulder. “Is there writing?”

Hua Yitang’s shoulder stiffened. He suddenly took three large steps sideways and away, his fine eyes staring at Lin Sui’an — the light in them more captivating and dazzling than the night pearl itself.

Lin Sui’an was completely baffled. “What?”

Hua Yitang wiped the back of his hand quickly across his earlobe — Lin Sui’an’s breath had just blown directly onto it, at once tickling and burning, and yet she looked entirely unaware of what she had done. He felt a profound agony that only heaven could know. “Ahem — there is writing.”

Lin Sui’an was overjoyed. “Is it that man’s name?”

“Not a name.” Hua Yitang let out a long breath, steadied his heart, and held the night pearl out toward Lin Sui’an. He crouched down, produced his small portable writing set and spread it on the ground, then used his left hand to run slowly along the inside of the bell, eyes narrowed, while his right hand moved swiftly across the paper.

Lin Sui’an crouched beside him, holding the night pearl, watching a string of characters flow from the tip of Hua Yitang’s brush onto the paper. Her brow furrowed tighter and tighter — she recognized them. They were ancient seal script.

She should have thought of this earlier. That man was so cunning — he had eliminated every link between himself and Xiao Lian. How could he casually leave his own name in a marriage-luck bell?

Since he had dared to leave the bell here, he must have been confident that no one would discover the secret within — or even if discovered, no one would be able to guess who he was.

“What do these characters mean?” Lin Sui’an asked.

Hua Yitang frowned. “Son, son — when I behold this fine person, what should I do?”

Lin Sui’an: “Pardon?”

“It is from the Book of Songs — ‘Zhouniao.’ ‘Twined and bound the kindling wood, three stars hang in the sky. What night is this night? I behold this fine person. Son, son — with this fine person, what shall I do?'” Hua Yitang said. “It is a love poem.”

Lin Sui’an: “Could this be the love poem that sealed Xiao Lian’s relationship with her lover?”

Hua Yitang sighed. “The problem is, this poem is so commonly used as a declaration of love that it offers absolutely no way to identify who the person is.”

The two fell silent.

Lin Sui’an glanced at the wind bell, then at the eaves, and suddenly had a flash of inspiration. She rehung the bell on the eave, pushed open the door to the main room, and went inside. She sat down at Xiao Lian’s dressing table and slid the window open.

Hua Yitang immediately understood Lin Sui’an’s intention, stepped behind her, crouched down, and observed the direction of the wind bell from behind Lin Sui’an. “Every day when Xiao Lian sat here to apply her makeup, she could look up and see the bell. The bell points directly toward —”

The two met each other’s gaze. “Sanhua Tower…”

They were very close. Lin Sui’an could even see the long lashes of Hua Yitang’s eyes trembling three times, and the brilliant light flowing through his pupils — utterly bewitching.

Lin Sui’an: Hm?

“You two are going too far!” Jin Ruo’s voice arrived before he did. He came shouting and yelling, storming to the window and hammering on the sill. “Do you know what time it is, and you’re still out here being all romantic?!”

Hua Yitang thumped down flat on the floor. Lin Sui’an leapt to her feet, brushed off the goosebumps on her arms with forced composure. “What is it?”

Jin Ruo clattered against the window frame. “Sixth Elder Ling sent word — they found the murder weapon used to kill Xiao Lian on Qu Hui’s person. It might be embroidery thread.”

“What?!” Lin Sui’an was shocked.

“Where is Qu Hui?” Hua Yitang sprang up with a carp-flip and asked at once.

“Qu Hui has disappeared.” Jin Ruo said quickly. “Today Ma Biao’s men went to Qiuyue Teahouse and caused a scene. Qu Hui was there too. Those wastrels said all sorts of things — even mentioned that Wu Zhengli had found a new lover and was hanging some broken wind bell at his bedside. Sixth Elder Ling guessed that Qu Hui must have been shaken by it and gone to find Wu Zhengli at the Wu family’s house to cause trouble — he wants us to get over there fast!”

“Wait!” Lin Sui’an called urgently. “What did you just say about a wind bell?”

Jin Ruo’s tone turned vinegary. “Teacher, stop pretending you don’t know — isn’t it the marriage-luck bell you and Hua Yitang just went to see at the Matchmaking God’s shrine next to Da Ci Temple? You made me run all that unnecessary distance —”

Hua Yitang: “You said Wu Zhengli has a marriage-luck bell hanging at his bedside?”

Jin Ruo paused. Only now did he notice that his teacher and Hua Yitang’s expressions were both off. He straightened up his manner at once. “Yes.”

Hua Yitang: “Is there a name — or lines of poetry — inside the bell or on the slip below?”

“I don’t know about the inside. I heard the paper slip hanging from the bell had a line of a love poem on it.” Jin Ruo scratched his head. “Something about — having gruel for dinner, then iced drinks —”

Hua Yitang: “‘On this night, this night of all nights, I behold this fine person.'”

Jin Ruo: “That’s it, that’s the one.”

Lin Sui’an’s breath caught. She and Hua Yitang exchanged a lightning-fast glance.

Hua Yitang’s expression had turned terrible. “Could it be that Xiao Lian’s lover is Wu Zhengli?”

Time was short. The three of them left the inner city district and made straight for the Yamen Quarter. Wu Zhengli’s house was in the First Ward West of the Yamen Quarter at Number Eighteen Wanli Street — that was, in fact, Wu Zhengli’s residence. On the way, Jin Ruo gave a concise account of what had happened at Qiuyue Teahouse and with the counterfeit Hundred Flowers Tea. Hua Yitang responded with a cool laugh and the verdict: “A fitting punishment for his own misdeeds.”

With Jin Ruo leading the way, Pixi drove the carriage faster than before. It took less than a quarter-hour to arrive at the Wu family’s guest manor at Number Eighteen Wanli Street — the home of Wu Zhengli.

Lin Sui’an had barely jumped down from the carriage when she saw Mu Xia pulling up in a carriage across from them. Ling Zhiyan helped Hua Yimeng down from the carriage, and Fangke also came, his large wooden chest strapped to his back.

Ling Zhiyan spotted the two of them, his eyes lighting up. He said urgently, “Qu Hui may be the murderer who killed Xiao Lian!”

Hua Yitang was faster and more urgent still. “Wu Zhengli may be Xiao Lian’s lover.”

Ling Zhiyan: “!!”

Lin Sui’an grabbed her blade and went to kick open the gate — her foot had not even touched it when the gate swung open on its own, and a head poked out from inside. Lin Sui’an barely managed a last-moment swerve to avoid kicking him square in the face.

The man wore a long robe and a head wrap, and by his age and manner of dress appeared to be a steward. He was startled by Lin Sui’an, then looked up, recognized Hua Yitang and Ling Zhiyan, and saw Fangke’s attire — he was overjoyed. “Military Advisor Hua, Judicial Inspector Ling — you’ve brought a physician!”

Hua Yitang lifted his robe hem and pushed inside at a run. “Where is Wu Zhengli?”

“He’s in the inner courtyard — let me show Military Advisor Hua the way.” The steward fell into a trot, and started grumbling as he went. “Military Advisor Hua, thank goodness you’ve come. Somehow both Wu Counselor and the family head have started vomiting and purging — no idea what’s happened. We called in several doctors, and they all said it was poisoning, but as for managing their personal food and medicine, I’ve been overseeing everything myself — there’s no way anyone could have gotten poison in —”

Ling Zhiyan: “Did Ma Biao and his group come by today?”

The steward: “Ah? Young Master Ma? He came this morning — even brought Hundred Flowers Tea. Wu Counselor and the family head both drank some — could it be the tea? That can’t be right, can it? Young Master Ma and Wu Counselor have known each other for over a decade! You’d think he wouldn’t harm our Counselor —”

Two columns of maidservants ran past, carrying washbasins and towels, hurrying along with quick bows to the steward and the others before rushing off again.

Hua Yitang clicked his tongue. “Has Qu Hui come?”

The steward nodded repeatedly. “She has, she has. The madam does indeed love the family head deeply — the moment she heard the family head was ill, she rushed right over. Truly, it’s a sorry thing to say, but the household has been in an uproar here, and it was the madam who took charge and steadied things. Though the two have already had a formal separation, this bond from their days as young husband and wife is genuinely touching —”

Hua Yitang stopped in his tracks, feeling something was not right. “Wu Zhengli is staying in the side courtyard?”

The steward: “The main courtyard is cooler — Wu Counselor gave it up for the family head to stay in first —”

Ling Zhiyan immediately seized on the key detail: “The marriage-luck bell at the bedside — whose is it? When was it brought into the room? What is its origin?”

The steward saw Ling Zhiyan’s expression was grave, and answered solemnly: “It was Wu Counselor who brought it back from Da Ci Temple two years ago. It was put away for quite some time. Two days ago, after returning from Sanhua Tower, he had me take it out again for some reason. With the family head coming to stay, the household has been so busy — there hasn’t been time to move it to Wu Counselor’s side courtyard yet —”

So Xiao Lian’s lover was not Wu Zhengli, but Wu Zhengli!

Everyone’s expressions shifted. They immediately quickened their pace.

The side courtyard was in a rather awkward, out-of-the-way location. They went around a covered walkway and through a back garden — a good quarter-hour of running before they finally came within sight of the side courtyard gate. Servants and maidservants were crowded outside the locked gate, whispering among themselves.

The steward was furious. “What are you all doing standing out here?! Why aren’t you inside attending to Wu Counselor?!”

The servant: “Just now Wu Counselor suddenly started shaking all over and vomited a large amount of green liquid, then passed out. It was terrifying!”

The maidservant: “The madam happened to arrive. She said Wu Counselor and the family head were both poisoned with Longshen fruit, and that they needed genuine Hundred Flowers Tea to treat it. She happened to have Hundred Flowers Tea on her, and said we were in the way, so she chased us all out of the courtyard and then bolted the gate.”

“The madam looked so frightening when she spoke just now!”

“She’s always been so gentle and mild in how she talks to the servants before — I’ve never seen her like this, whatever’s come over her today —”

“Fourth Young Master!” Hua Yimeng’s face went chalk-white. “I can smell blood!”

Before the words left her mouth, Lin Sui’an kicked the courtyard gate open and darted inside. The courtyard was small, with only two side rooms. The back room was dark; the main room’s window was faintly lit. Lin Sui’an slapped the main room’s door open with her palm — a wave of rank, fetid air hit her full in the face. She hastily covered her mouth and nose with her sleeve.

The interior was dimly lit. Directly facing the door was a single-panel folding screen, embroidered with two intertwining begonia branches. Shadows moved behind the screen; a woman’s soft laughter drifted out. The laughter was uncanny, like the weeping of ghosts.

Lin Sui’an’s skin erupted in goosebumps all over. Behind her, Hua Yitang, Ling Zhiyan, Jin Ruo, Fangke, and Hua Yimeng also came surging in. Sensing something was deeply wrong, they steeled themselves and made their way around the folding screen — and froze, eyes wide open.

A crumpled, blood-soaked quilt lay strewn on the floor, drenched in blood and green vomit. Blood dripped steadily from the edge of the bed. Wu Zhengli was sprawled on the bed, arms and legs flung wide, both eyes bulging outward. His upper body was soaked through with blood.

Qu Hui was seated astride Wu Zhengli, both hands gripping a kitchen cleaver, plunging it into Wu Zhengli’s chest — one thrust, one thrust, one thrust. With each thrust, Wu Zhengli’s body convulsed. With each convulsion, a torrent of blood mixed with green vomit surged up from his mouth. With each thrust, Qu Hui laughed once.

The scene was so horrifying that everyone was frozen in shock.

The steward, who had come in last, let out a hysterical scream. Lin Sui’an’s scalp went numb — she leapt forward, seized Qu Hui, and physically dragged her off the bed, wrenching the cleaver from her hands.

Fangke rushed to the bed and swept the scene with a single glance. He shook his head. “Completely shredded. Nothing to be done.”

Hua Yimeng shrank behind Ling Zhiyan and retched all over Ling Zhiyan’s back. Ling Zhiyan’s face went green. Jin Ruo’s face also went green — he pinched his nose and cowered as far back as he could.

Hua Yitang was deathly pale. He handed Lin Sui’an a fragrant handkerchief. Ordinarily the most fastidious of all, he had not vomited, had not covered his mouth and nose — instead, he stared fixedly at Qu Hui, his eyes rimmed red as blood.

Qu Hui seemed to have entered another world entirely. She knelt on the ground, her hands empty now of the cleaver, yet still mechanically repeating the stabbing motion. One thrust — one laugh — tears streaming down through the blood on her face. Her lips moved in a murmur:

“Xiao Lian… you loved this man most of all, didn’t you… I found him… I finally found him… he is coming to keep you company… Xiao Lian, are you happy… are you happy… are you happy…”