The first day of the tenth month was the day of Gao Cun’s release from prison.

Five years earlier, Gao Cun had been sentenced to five years of penal labor for the crime of breaking and entering with intent to steal. Ordinarily such a theft would not have warranted so long a sentence, but that year had been particularly unlucky — Yidu had been plagued by the peach blossom murderer, and martial world bandits had been pouring in to take advantage of the chaos. To maintain public order, the authorities tried and sentenced all crimes with maximum severity. The constable chief at the time, Wu Zhengqing, had worked day and night rounding up criminals until the jails were nearly full to bursting.

Five years had passed in the blink of an eye. Walking out of the prison gates, Gao Cun felt as though he had returned from another world.

A prison guard handed Gao Cun a bundle containing the standard three items issued upon a prisoner’s full-term release: a change of clothes, fifty copper coins, and a travel document. He clapped Gao Cun on the shoulder. “Old Gao, you conducted yourself well during your time inside — shows your nature isn’t bad. Once you’re out, live a decent life. Don’t come back.”

Gao Cun bowed respectfully. The guard gave a satisfied nod and shut the gate.

Gao Cun breathed two deep lungfuls of fresh air, found a secluded corner, changed into clean clothes, tidied his appearance, left the yamen compound, crossed the Jade Rainbow Bridge, and walked into the Jinli Night Market.

The seventh double-hour of the night had passed. The sky was dim. The irregular officers of the market office climbed up to light the lamps, one after another. Gao Cun had been inside too long — plunged suddenly into this dazzling blaze of light, he was uncomfortable, and could only try to keep to the stretches of shadow where the lanterns did not reach.

The Jinli Night Market was a crush of people, shoulder to shoulder, jostling for space. Vendors lining the road called their wares at the top of their lungs.

Candied fruit, white cake, minced meat porridge, plum drink — the smells were thick and cloying enough to make a person nauseous. Persian red amber wine, silver wine vessels from the Great Food Kingdom, ten-year ginseng slices from Goryeo, wooden water vessels from the eastern islands — all priced at outrageous figures; the fifty coins on Gao Cun barely covered the cost of a single comb. Water-polished mirrors, coarse ceramic cups, face powder, silk fans — all women’s trinkets and trifles.

Crabapple blossoms bloomed in raucous profusion all along the street. White-robed scholars milled about like a herd of brainless sheep, jostling and calling out as they pushed toward them. Gao Cun turned away in contempt. Women in heavy makeup, wearing flirtatious hair ornaments, paraded past. Gao Cun walked with his head low and eyes downcast, his gaze tracking one after another silk-gowned figure as it brushed past him, his tongue running over the corner of his mouth.

“Mister, up ahead, watch out — coming through, coming through — oof!” A peddler with a steaming carrying pole came rushing toward him and knocked Gao Cun sideways. The peddler apologized repeatedly, pulled a piece of white sugar cake from the steamer tray and pressed it into Gao Cun’s hand, and hurried off. Gao Cun bit into it — sickly sweet, almost nauseating — and tossed it on the roadside.

The Jinli Night Market was louder and more vexing than he remembered. Gao Cun quickened his pace and passed through the Changxuan Gate in the final moments before it closed for the night. Past the Qingyuan Bridge, seven li more to the north, and at last he saw the abandoned farmstead. The familiar broken door boards, the familiar old locust tree, even the sound of the crows had not changed — Gao Cun smacked his lips a couple of times — still the same.

He walked straight to the ancestral shrine in the rear courtyard, kicked the board aside, brushed away the tattered account banners, and found half a statue lying silently on the offering table like a dried and shriveled corpse.

Gao Cun picked up the statue and wiped it off. His fingers pried at its base, working out a wooden wedge to reveal a hollow. He pressed his index and middle fingers together and probed inside, then pinched out something between them.

It was a pitch-black iron hairpin, with a tiny iron peach blossom set at its tip. The five petals were long since red with rust from years of neglect.

Gao Cun gazed at the peach blossom hairpin, smiling in a daze, mumbling to himself, “Those people said my fate held no peach blossoms — that I would never find a wife. What rubbish. I will see this peach blossom bloom on every woman in the world — one, two, ten, twenty… ha ha ha ha ha ha—”

“So you hid the peach blossom hairpin here. Truly unexpected.”

Without warning, a voice sounded from directly behind Gao Cun. He lurched around in shock, his pupils contracting to pinpoints.

In the depths of the dark night, a young man had appeared — snow-white robes like blossoms, strikingly handsome — languidly waving a fan, watching him with a smiling gaze.

What kind of creature was this? A ghost? A fox spirit?!

Every hair on Gao Cun’s body stood on end. The iron hairpin pricked his palm, jolting him back to reality. This young man had a shadow, had feet — he was a person.

Gao Cun: “Who are you?!”

The young man’s eyes curved in a smile. “Gao Cun, forty-six years of age. Home address: number three hundred and four, Qu Lian Street, Western Fourth Ward. He earns his living primarily as a dockworker at the port. His father was a drunkard — died early. His mother: unknown. Grew up in poverty, dull by nature and poor at conversation, lacking in ambition. Was still unwed past forty. Five years ago, convicted of theft and sent to prison — sentenced to five years of penal labor. Neighbors and acquaintances, upon hearing the news, expressed nothing but regret, saying: he was an honest man.”

Cold sweat began to trickle down Gao Cun’s face.

The young man: “What a pity they never knew — this so-called ‘honest man’ was the peach blossom murderer, the scourge of Yidu!”

Gao Cun let out a furious shout, raised the iron hairpin, and lunged at the young man. In the blink of an eye, a dark shadow cut through the air. There was a click, and Gao Cun was seized hard by the throat, his feet lifted clean off the ground.

The hand around his neck belonged to a young woman in black — hair as black as her clothes, her gaze as sharp as a blade. Her fingers twisted the faintest bit, and Gao Cun’s vision went black, suffocating on the verge of death — then the grip on his throat abruptly loosened. Gao Cun crashed heavily to the ground, gagging and coughing. His vision gradually returned.

Yamen officers and irregular officers stood packed on every side, holding torches that lit the entire ancestral shrine as bright as day. Leading them was Yidu’s own constable chief, Wu Da, who bowed respectfully to the young man. “Greetings, General Hua.”

Gao Cun was dumbfounded. “Why — why?!”

“You want to know why we tracked you down?” Ling Zhiyan stepped forward. “Simple — because of Pi Xi.”

Gao Cun’s eyes bulged, spiderweb-like veins of blood creeping through them.

Ling Zhiyan: “After Tuyuan was beheaded, the peach blossom murderer vanished. Everyone concluded that Tuyuan was the true peach blossom murderer. But there was another possibility: the murderer was forced to stop for some reason — such as being imprisoned for an unrelated crime, with no way to act.”

Hua Yitang: “In prison, you must have been simultaneously shocked and delighted to hear that Tuyuan had been executed. Perhaps that was the very moment when you noticed that a little thief called Pi Xi harbored an admiring fascination with the peach blossom murderer. How convenient — if I were in your place, I would have done everything possible to brainwash this Pi Xi, to build up the peach blossom murderer into some sort of great hero, and then, little by little, reveal the locations of the peach blossom murderer’s killing grounds — all so that one day, once Pi Xi got out, he could become a second Tuyuan.”

Hua Yitang sighed again. “Unfortunately, while Pi Xi knew the locations of the peach blossom murderer’s crime scenes, he did not know the details of the killings. One small trick was all it took to expose the gap in his knowledge.”

Ling Zhiyan: “Why would someone who was not the peach blossom murderer know the locations of the killing grounds? There was only one explanation: Pi Xi had been in contact with the real murderer. Pi Xi’s network of associations was not difficult to investigate. After a simple filtering, the most suspicious person was clearly whoever he had encountered inside the prison.”

Gao Cun clutched the hairpin in his fist so hard blood seeped between his fingers.

“Ah — at this point you’re surely wondering again: with so many criminals in that prison, how was the real murderer singled out?” Hua Yitang waved his fan. “Also simple. One need only filter out the criminals who entered the prison around the time Tuyuan was caught, then release them in batches and track each one. A real murderer would inevitably show their hand.” Hua Yitang broke into a luminous smile. “In other words, from the moment you stepped out of prison, you had already walked into a net spread across the sky. There was no escaping.”

Gao Cun went limp all over and collapsed to the ground.

“Gao Cun — what do you have left to say?!” Ling Zhiyan thundered.

Gao Cun’s body gave a violent shudder. He struggled to his feet, eyes blazing crimson as he howled, “Do you know why I killed those women?! You don’t understand! You don’t know! You can’t know how deeply I was hurt by women! How miserable I was, how much hatred I carried —”

“Thud!” Lin Sui’an delivered a savage kick squarely into Gao Cun’s face. His nasal bone snapped, his face pressed against the ground, and like a fish on the verge of death he wheezed and coughed blood, his whole body convulsing with terror.

“I have absolutely no interest in your wretched, self-pitying history,” Lin Sui’an said. “All I want to see is how you die!”

Hua Yitang gave a cold laugh. Ling Zhiyan raised his hand. “Take him back to the cells!”

Jin Ruo sat in the carriage, gleefully counting the gold leaf coins in her pouch — one coin, wipe it clean; two coins, wipe it clean; three coins — she counted all thirty of them, and then looked up, impossibly reluctant, before singling out one and holding it out to Lin Sui’an. “The real peach blossom murderer has finally been caught — Master, you should be happy!”

Lin Sui’an’s lingering anger subsided slightly under her disciple’s coaxing. She flipped the gold leaf back to Jin Ruo. Jin Ruo let out a cheer. “Thank you, Master! Master is magnanimous! Master is mighty!”

Lin Sui’an had to laugh despite herself. “Didn’t Jing Men reach an agreement with the Hua family — that all intelligence the Hua family needs is provided free of charge? Why take money this time?”

Jin Ruo slapped her knee. “Master, you don’t know — that Wu Zhengqing, all those years ago, arrested well over a hundred thieves to make his record look good, and the one surnamed Hua required every single released prisoner to be tracked — not one to be missed. A surveillance operation on this scale naturally commands a separate fee!”

Lin Sui’an blinked. Hua Yitang waved his fan with a look of complete indifference. “Money should naturally be spent where it counts.”

Jin Ruo tightened the pouch and tucked it into his robe, then cupped his hands. “Many thanks for the business. Next time something like this comes up, please think of Jing Men first!”

Hua Yitang gave a dismissive “tsk.” He raised his fan to lift the carriage curtain and gazed out at the night. The cascading radiance of the city flowed through his dark pupils like a boundless river of stars.

Lin Sui’an sensed that something was weighing on Hua Yitang’s mind. After a moment, she asked, “Is it alright to let Censor Ling return to the yamen alone?”

“With the peach blossom murderer case closed, Ling the Sixth is sure to be so excited he can’t sleep — he’ll stay up all night to get the dossiers in order. A pampered and tender-skinned idler like me absolutely cannot endure that kind of hardship,” Hua Yitang said. “Poor sleep makes a person ugly.”

Jin Ruo’s eyes rolled all the way to the sky. Lin Sui’an pressed a hand to her forehead.

Suddenly, Hua Yitang snapped his fan shut. “Stop the carriage.”

The carriage halted in front of a small wine shop.

An entirely ordinary wine shop — three or five broken tables, a counter with only seven or eight wine jars, three of them empty, and the remaining ones without even a name written on them — presumably cheap, unrefined brew. The shop boy was asleep on the counter, drool soaking the account book. The account book was nearly blank; business was bleak.

The only patron in the entire wine shop was a man, unshaven and rough-faced, drinking his wine in gloomy silence, the side dishes scraped clean.

It was Wu Zhengli.

Hua Yitang stood quietly in the doorway and only watched — he did not go in.

Lin Sui’an and Jin Ruo glanced at each other, each at a loss for what this frivolous noble intended, and tacitly said nothing.

After a long while, Hua Yitang unfolded his fan, sauntered over, and sat down across from Wu Zhengli, his expression set in its habitual mask of a smile that did not reach his eyes. “Master Wu — it has been a while.”

Wu Zhengli looked up. “Well, well — if it isn’t the Hua family’s Fourth Son. What brings you to have a drink with a ruined man like me?”

Hua Yitang: “Still money for drink — means you’re not ruined enough.”

Wu Zhengli gave a couple of humorless laughs. “Seeing me like this — you must be very pleased.”

“Hua is not pleased in the least.” Hua Yitang flapped his little fan. “Lian Xiaoshuang is dead. Qu Hui is dead. Even Wu Zhengqing is dead. And yet you — you are still not dead. Heaven truly has no eyes.”

Wu Zhengli burst out laughing, threw his head back and drained another cup of wine. “I’m not dead yet — but I might as well be. A living death! Ha ha ha ha ha ha — a living death, a living death —”

Hua Yitang watched quietly. He watched Wu Zhengli laugh himself out, drink himself out, slump across the table, and fall asleep. Then he stood up, straightened his sleeves, produced a pouch of gold leaf coins, and tossed it by Wu Zhengli’s hand. He turned and walked out of the wine shop.

Lin Sui’an and Jin Ruo stared at him in open shock.

Jin Ruo: “Have you lost your mind?! Wu Zhengli is human garbage — why are you giving him money?!”

Lin Sui’an: “You… feel sympathy for someone like him?”

Was this really a moment of weakness?

Hua Yitang turned toward the carriage. “Whether it becomes a path back to life or a road to ruin — that’s for him to decide.”

The moonlight fell over his petal-like robes, billowing in the wind, cold as water.

Moonlight spilled across the empty street. Wu Zhengli ran in a cold sweat, sprinting as fast as his legs could carry him.

He clutched an entire large bag of gold leaf coins to his chest. What was this if not the grace of heaven — a windfall, a gift from above! With his skill, all he needed was one night to win it all back — a new start, a new life!

Before long, Wu Zhengli spotted the sign of the Fang Yuan Gambling House. Yidu’s biggest gambling den — the place where his fortune had once soared. His old, glorious starting point!

The gambling den was packed wall to wall, screaming with voices. Wu Zhengli breathed in the familiar smell and every pore in his body opened wide with appetite — frenzy, desperation, greed… this was his world, his future, his destiny!

The house dealer moved forward with a welcoming smile showing all thirty-two teeth. “My goodness, Master Wu, what a rare guest! Come, come, come — right this way!”

Wu Zhengli clutched his gold leaf coins, glanced around, and leaned in to speak low. “Any new tables opened recently? I’m feeling lucky today — I want to put down something big!”

“You couldn’t have picked a better time! We’ve got a newcomer at the house — the luckiest hand you’ve ever seen. Everyone who’s placed bets at his table has walked away with a full purse.”

“Take me there at once!”

“This way, please —”

Wu Zhengli followed the dealer through one turn and another, up to a second-floor private room. He pushed the door open. Inside was an oil-gleaming redwood gambling table, ringed by gamblers. Piled in front of each gambler were stacks upon stacks of gold bars. They shouted and cried, laughed and wept — clearly all drunk on their winnings.

Wu Zhengli pushed his way in eagerly and saw at once that this table was betting with dice — his strongest game. Overjoyed, he pulled out his gold leaf coins and slapped them on the table.

The dealer at the center of the table raised his head and fixed a steady gaze on Wu Zhengli.

The dealer was only thirteen or fourteen years old, with golden hair and brilliant blue eyes, speaking with a strange curling accent. “Place your bets — no changes once placed, and no regrets in life or death~”

At the third quarter of the fifth double-hour of the morning, Wu Da rushed into the Judicial Office, nearly colliding with the freshly brewed hundred-flower tea that Mu Xia had just prepared.

“General Hua — at the second quarter of the fourth double-hour this morning, a body was discovered in the Yujiang River beside the Western Fourth District!”

Lin Sui’an, who had been dozing in the large armchair, opened her eyes. Hua Yitang leaned against the cushion and stifled a yawn. “Man or woman? Has an examination been done?”

“Doctor Fang has already examined the body. Death by drowning.” Wu Da paused. “The Western Fourth District is well known throughout Yidu for its gambling dens. Every year… every month… gamblers who ‘slip’ into the water —” he trailed off, “it’s impossible to count them all.”

Hua Yitang took the tea cup Mu Xia offered him. “In other words — gambled away everything and jumped into the river to end it?”

“…Yes.”

Lin Sui’an found herself sitting up straight without realizing it. Hua Yitang sipped his tea slowly, eyes half-lidded. “Has the identity been confirmed?”

“Confirmed. It is Wu Zhengli.”

Lin Sui’an’s heart skipped half a beat.

Hua Yitang took a sip of tea, set the cup down, picked up a dossier, and began slowly leafing through it. A faint glimmer of something crossed the depths of his eyes and was gone. He murmured something.

Wu Da had not caught the words. “General Hua, do you have any instructions?”

“Send someone from the Wu family to claim the body.”

Wu Da acknowledged the order and withdrew quickly.

Lin Sui’an stared at Hua Yitang for a long moment, then looked away. With her sharp hearing, she had of course heard every word clearly. What Hua Yitang had murmured was: “Just as I thought — he chose the road to ruin.”

Lin Sui’an could not quite settle on what she felt about this. She turned it over in her mind, and in the end arrived at only one thought:

He brought it upon himself.

“General Hua, thanks to your decisive action this time in apprehending the true peach blossom murderer, Grand Prefect Chi and I would certainly have been torn apart by the Censorate!” Senior Scribe Xia came bounding in with flushed cheeks, lifting his robes, and snatched up the tea on Hua Yitang’s table, draining it in a single gulp. “Grand Prefect Chi has already reviewed the peach blossom murderer’s dossier. Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!”

Lin Sui’an silently rolled her eyes, picked up a piece of white sugar cake, and chewed. Good heavens, the sugar content was through the roof — no wonder Jin Ruo constantly talked about losing weight while only gaining more.

Hua Yitang rose and returned the greeting. “Senior Scribe Xia flatters me. This was only what a subordinate ought to do.”

“To have General Hua in Yidu is truly the great fortune of the common people!” Senior Scribe Xia gave Hua Yitang a satisfied clap on the shoulder. “What a blessed day this is — double happiness! Xia is overjoyed! Overjoyed!”

Hua Yitang blinked. “And what is the other happy occasion?”

Senior Scribe Xia made an appreciative sound, produced a gold-rimmed invitation card from his sleeve, and pressed it into Hua Yitang’s hand. “The Suzhou Su family has risen from the ashes — tomorrow is the investiture ceremony of their new patriarch. They have specially invited us all to attend. General Hua must not decline!”

Hua Yitang’s eyes went wide. “The Su family’s new patriarch — who?”

Senior Scribe Xia looked pleased with himself. “Naturally, it is Yidu’s foremost talent — Su Yiyun.”

“Pffft —” Lin Sui’an sprayed white sugar cake across three feet of floor.

Short Extra Scene

Ling Zhiyan stared at the invitation card Senior Scribe Xia had just delivered, utterly perplexed:

Alas — does absolutely anything qualify as a family patriarch these days?