“The cause of Duan Hongning’s death was strangulation. The murder weapon was a hemp rope. The killer’s method was brutal — the rope nearly severed her cervical vertebrae. The ligature marks on Duan Hongning’s neck match the hemp rope found on Pi Xi’s person. The residue under Duan Hongning’s fingernails includes a small amount of human skin and blood. Pi Xi’s arm bears scratch marks consistent in shape with Duan Hongning’s fingernails.”

Fangke’s voice drifted into Lin Sui’an’s ears, calmly recounting the post-mortem findings. “The peach blossom brand on the thigh was applied after death — five peach blossom petals, the size and markings of which are a perfect match with those on the bodies of Lian Xiaoshuang and Mimina, made by the same instrument. Upon comparison, it is indeed the peach-blossom-shaped iron hairpin in Pi Xi’s possession.”

It appeared that the killer who murdered Duan Hongning was indeed Pi Xi beyond any doubt…

Lin Sui’an quietly sighed to herself. Her senses returned one by one. She wanted to open her eyes, but her eyelids were too heavy — she heard the sound of carriage wheels rolling over the ground, the carriage swaying rhythmically — she must be lying flat. The pillow beneath her head was very comfortable, warm and fragrant. A faint coolness pressed lightly against her temples — she could smell the refreshing scent of a mind-clearing balm.

“Duan Hongning was killed by Pi Xi, Lian Xiaoshuang was killed by Qu Hui, Mimina was killed by Wang Jingfu — three different killers using the same peach blossom iron hairpin. But these three seem to have no connection with each other, which is truly contrary to reason.” Hua Yitang’s voice was very low and soft — she could even feel his breath.

Lin Sui’an quickly realized she was lying with her head in Hua Yitang’s lap — a not entirely seemly position. She thought it truly was not proper, and yet her body was so weary and languid, far too comfortable to move.

“Pi Xi insists that he himself is the Peach Blossom Killer, but I feel there must be more to this than meets the eye.” Ling Zhiyan said.

“Normally killers do everything they can to deny guilt — who on earth would actively volunteer to be a serial killer, unless their head is broken.” Jin Ruo’s voice.

Hua Yitang said, “Could it be that he has some particular reason for which he must become the Peach Blossom Killer?”

Ling Zhiyan said, “Once we return to the prefectural office, we must question this man thoroughly.”

Jin Ruo said, “If you ask me, just give him a thorough beating — his entire eight generations of ancestors will come out clean.”

Fangke said, “Have him slaughtered. Flay his skull. One look at his brain and I’ll know.”

All three voices changed register at once. “No need, no need, no need for that.”

Lin Sui’an laughed silently to herself and discovered something remarkable — listening to everyone idly analyze the case like this, the fatigue and aching in her body was gradually dissipating. A long-absent sense of vigor flowed like a gentle stream back into her limbs. Her eyelids stirred and she opened her eyes.

The first thing that came into view was Hua Yitang’s throat. Then his clean jawline, his jade-smooth neck — Hua Yitang’s neck looked very white and soft, like tofu. Lin Sui’an thought to herself: I wonder what it would taste like to take a bite.

Hua Yitang, who had been holding forth, seemed to sense something, and lowered his head. The moment their eyes met, Lin Sui’an distinctly felt the “leg pillow” beneath her head go suddenly rigid. Hua Yitang’s earlobes turned red.

Honestly, Lin Sui’an had thought the position was a little awkward at first — but now, seeing that Hua Yitang was even more awkward than she was, she instantly felt no awkwardness at all. She propped herself up with both hands and sat upright.

Everyone in the carriage stared fixedly at her.

Hua Yitang held a small jar of aromatic balm, his expression tinged with worry. Seeing that Lin Sui’an’s color had improved considerably, he let out a breath of relief.

Jin Ruo said, “Master, are you not sleeping well lately? How do you keep passing out?”

Ling Zhiyan said, “Lin Niangzi — are you perhaps too overtaxed?”

Fangke said, “What did you see?”

Ling Zhiyan started, Jin Ruo let out an “ah?”

Lin Sui’an took the jar of balm from Hua Yitang’s hands, scooped out a generous lump, and rubbed it into her temples. “In Duan Hongning’s memory, there were three women… no — at that time they should still have been children. One was Mimina, one was Lian Xiaoshuang, and one she didn’t recognize. They had been buried somewhere very dark. Afterward… they escaped—it was a very desolate place, with a moon, tall trees, and a begonia tree in bloom.”

Ling Zhiyan’s and Jin Ruo’s eyes nearly dropped out of their heads. Fangke said with sudden understanding: “In other words, Lian Xiaoshuang, Mimina, and Duan Hongning had known each other since childhood.”

Lin Sui’an nodded. “Their clothes were in tatters, all of them bearing injuries, none older than ten—” The rest she left unsaid. Based on their condition at the time, one could almost be certain that they were…

“The white livestock?” Hua Yitang asked quietly.

Lin Sui’an sighed and neither confirmed nor denied it.

A sheen of moisture passed through Hua Yitang’s eyes. He drew out the small writing set he always carried with him. “What did the last person look like?”

“Very thin and small, a melon-seed face, plain-looking,” Lin Sui’an recalled. “Half her face bore lash wounds, not yet healed — they would likely leave scars.”

With such sparse descriptors, even the finest master painter in the capital would have no basis for a brushstroke. Hua Yitang’s expression was one of helplessness.

Ling Zhiyan’s face shifted slightly. “Could it be the left side of her face?”

Lin Sui’an was greatly surprised. “How does Judicial Supervisor Ling know?”

“The female proprietor of the Qiuyue Tea House, the lady named Snow Autumn, once suffered an injury to the left half of her face,” Ling Zhiyan said. “When I saw her before, she had concealed it with a particular style of makeup. If one did not look carefully, it was almost indistinguishable from normal skin — it was thanks to the third daughter of the Hua Family pointing it out to me that I noticed.”

Lin Sui’an’s eyes lit up. “What does Snow Autumn’s makeup look like?”

This question had truly stumped the dashing Judicial Supervisor Ling. After much deliberation, he produced one sentence: “Quite white.”

Hua Yitang, Jin Ruo, and Fangke all simultaneously pressed their palms to their foreheads.

Unexpectedly, Lin Sui’an actually understood him. “The kind of white where the face seems to glow faintly?”

Ling Zhiyan was overjoyed. “Exactly!”

“That all fits!” Lin Sui’an slapped her knee. “Duan Hongning’s makeup technique involves layering fine gauze, mica, and face powder onto the skin to form a second layer — a secret method she does not share with others. If Snow Autumn can use this secret technique, it proves she had a very deep connection with Duan Hongning, and she is in all likelihood the third person in Duan Hongning’s memory! Jin Ruo, let’s quickly—what are you doing?”

Jin Ruo’s eyeballs were practically protruding, like a goldfish’s bubble eyes. “Master, you can really see a dead person’s memories?!”

Ling Zhiyan said, “What?!”

“When has your master ever lied to you?” Lin Sui’an beamed. “Let’s go!”

With that, she leapt out of the carriage in one bound. “To the Qiuyue Tea House—”

Her voice had not yet faded, and she was already long gone. Jin Ruo hurriedly chased after her at full speed.

The carriage fell quiet. Ling Zhiyan was still in a daze. He first looked at Hua Yitang — Hua Yitang was staring at a blank sheet of paper in his hand, his expression mournful, clearly not in the mood to talk. He looked over at Fangke — Fangke’s eyelids drooped as he started to feign sleep. With no other option, Ling Zhiyan could only lean his head out to ask the carriage driver Mu Xia: “Just now… that… what Lin Niangzi said… what exactly did she mean?”

Mu Xia smiled serenely. “What the Son of Heaven does not speak of are disorder, force, chaos, and the supernatural. Truth becomes illusion when illusion is taken as truth. Why does Judicial Supervisor Ling need to get to the bottom of everything?”

Ling Zhiyan fell into thought and slowly settled back into his seat, thinking to himself: He was still too young, it seemed. Not to mention comparing himself to the fourth young master and Elder Fang — he was not even as composed as Mu Xia.

However, what Chief Judicial Supervisor Ling did not know was that the all-capable chief steward Mu Xia was also hearing of this matter for the very first time, and his heart had already erupted into a storm:

Lin Niangzi’s ability is absolutely extraordinary! Truly, she and the fourth young master — who goes wherever death follows — are a match made by heaven!

The Pure Gate disciples had prepared horses at the city gate long ago. Lin Sui’an and Jin Ruo changed horses and entered the city, riding at full gallop to the Qiuyue Tea House. They found the tea house door locked and bearing a “day off” sign, though today was not one of Qiuyue Tea House’s regular rest days — it had been a temporary adjustment.

Lin Sui’an’s heart sank. In Duan Hongning’s memory, the four young women were all dead except for one. She had just traced this person, and now she had gone missing again — could it be another situation of impending doom?!

No, please!

“Jin Ruo, quickly—” Before Lin Sui’an had finished the sentence, Jin Ruo had already fired off a smoke signal. The crimson smoke carried a sky-shaking whistle that pierced the clouds. Blue signals, yellow signals, and white signals competed to shoot into the sky one after another. Only one signal appeared — a deep crimson — from the northwest direction.

“Found her!” Jin Ruo narrowed his eyes to read the direction. “Outside the Great Western Gate — Yujiang Dock!”

The two mounted their horses and galloped toward the blazing red sunset sky.

Mu Xia drove the carriage, entering the Yidu Prefectural Office in the scarlet light of the setting sun. Wu Da rushed over to meet them, his words coming in rapid fire: “Military Adviser Hua, Judicial Supervisor Ling — this subordinate has imprisoned Pi Xi and is ready to question him at any time.”

Hua Yitang said a brief “Very well” and turned to walk toward the prison. Wu Da, however, blocked him and added half a sentence more: “Prefect Chi and Chief Historian Xia have asked the two of you to come to the flower hall for a chat.”

Hua Yitang raised an eyebrow, thinking to himself: the sun must have risen in the west today.

For it was well known that Prefect Chi Jia and Chief Historian Xia Ren were archetypal “coasting” officials, whose governing philosophy was summed up in eight characters: “Make big things small, and small things nothing,” and whose work ethic was embodied in four words: “Not my problem.” The two had been run ragged by the string of cases and had made all manner of excuses to take consecutive days off. How had they suddenly changed their ways today, showing concern for a case?

Ling Zhiyan was greatly heartened. “Prefect Chi and Chief Historian Xia are truly devoted to their duty and the people.”

Wu Da’s expression was somewhat difficult to read. “Word is that someone from the Censorate has come to examine the case files for the Peach Blossom Killer’s new string of murders.”

Hua Yitang and Ling Zhiyan exchanged a glance — both were rather surprised.

The foundation of the Tang Kingdom’s judicial system was the “Three Courts of Law.” The three courts were the Censorate, the Ministry of Justice, and the Court of Judicial Review. Simply put, the Court of Judicial Review handled case adjudication, the Ministry of Justice handled review, and the Censorate handled case oversight — the three divided responsibilities, cooperating and yet checking each other. In cases of grave importance or difficulty, a joint deliberation by the Court of Judicial Review, the Ministry of Justice, and the Censorate could be requested — what was known as “joint adjudication by the Three Courts.”

The Censorate had the authority to impeach officials and rectify legal standards, including a unique power known as “impeachment by rumor” — that is, when hearing that someone had committed a crime, the Censorate could impeach that person before the Emperor regardless of whether conclusive evidence existed. The Court of Judicial Review and the Ministry of Justice were then required to follow up with an investigation, and even if the suspect ultimately proved innocent, the Censorate official who had brought the impeachment would not be held liable for false accusation.

But this did not mean that the Censorate could fabricate evidence or frame people at will. In practice, the vast majority of cases submitted by the Censorate were overturned by the Court of Judicial Review — and the grounds for overturning them were varied and colorful. The sensible ones wrote “insufficient evidence,” the outrageous ones wrote “pure slander,” and the most absurd response on record had actually said “go to hell.”

The Chief Censor Fang Feiguang had fought no small number of battles with the Court of Judicial Review’s Chief Justice Chen Yanfan over matters of case initiation, and the relationship between them had deteriorated to the extreme. It was no exaggeration to say that even the Censorate’s dogs would spit twice if they passed the Court of Judicial Review.

Although the Censorate could supervise the Court of Judicial Review’s adjudications, it had no authority to intervene in the Court’s adjudication process. That is to say, the Censorate could re-examine the case files from five years ago on the Peach Blossom Killer, but could not interfere in the as-yet-unresolved case of Lian Xiaoshuang.

Therefore, the Censorate’s dispatch of someone at this moment to examine the case files was not only against the rules, but also quite peculiar.

Hua Yitang lowered his voice. “Could it again be a colleague of yours in the Shadow Censorate?”

Ling Zhiyan shook his head, indicating he had not received any intelligence about this.

The two went directly to the flower hall, where Prefect Chi and Chief Historian Xia were already waiting outside the door, pacing about like two headless flies. Upon seeing Hua Yitang and Ling Zhiyan, they were overjoyed. “Military Adviser Hua, Judicial Supervisor Ling — you’ve finally arrived. The superior official has been waiting a long while!”

Without waiting for a response, they flung open the doors of the flower hall like a pair of doormen, one on each side.

In the flower hall sat a person dressed in a wide, plain robe, wearing a black headpiece. He had a square face, a goatee, bright, clear eyes, and greying temples. Upon seeing the two, he rose unhurriedly, smiled, and said: “Hua Family’s fourth son, Ling Family’s sixth son — many years since we last met. You have both grown up.”

Hua Yitang narrowed his eyes. He had no recollection of this person at all — but from his tone, it seemed this man was acquainted with the Hua Family.

Ling Zhiyan’s expression shifted slightly. He gave a deep bow. “Ling Zhiyan of the Court of Judicial Review pays his respects to Lord Jiang, the Censor-in-Waiting.”

Jiang… the Censor-in-Waiting?

Hua Yitang immediately recognized the identity of the visitor.

The Censorate has one Chief Censor, from the third rank, on the same level as the Chief Justice of the Court of Judicial Review, who presides over the court’s affairs. There are two Censors-in-Waiting, of the upper fifth rank, overseeing the Palace Surveillance and the Regional Surveillance respectively.

This Censor-in-Waiting, since his surname was Jiang, must be Jiang Wende, in charge of the Palace Surveillance — a man from the Jiang Family of Taiyuan. If Hua Yitang remembered correctly, by seniority, this man should be Jiang Dongyi’s paternal uncle.

Author’s Note: Traveling with a sacred beast — updates may be irregular. As long as I have time, I will do my best to write. (Bowing)

This arc is beginning to wrap up.