Jin Ruo peered over, and immediately burst into thunderous laughter. “Hahahahaha! Isn’t that the fake Flower God that the one surnamed Hua impersonated? How come there’s a knife in its hand — could that knife be — ” He glanced at Lin Sui’an. “Qian Jing…? Hahahahahahaha —”

Did this rascal have no fear of others recognizing them?

Lin Sui’an spun around and delivered a slap — only to find that Jin Ruo’s skills had grown; he spun out of reach in a nimble whirl, laughing even harder.

Lin Sui’an pressed her palm to her forehead. This is mortifying!

By now the vendor had also sensed something odd. His eyes darted back and forth between Hua Yitang and the woodblock image of the Iron-Blooded Flower God of Wealth a couple of times, then he slapped his thigh. “Well, well — now that you mention it, young master, there’s quite a resemblance, quite a favorable look!”

Hua Yitang stifled a laugh, snapped his fan open with a crack, and said, “How right you are, my good man. I feel a most particular affinity with this Iron-Blooded Flower God of Wealth! Mu Xia — purchase every last one of this gentleman’s woodblock prints and bring them home. Keep one set for ourselves, and pack up the rest; have them sent by fast horse to Yangdu, the Eastern Capital, Yidu, and Guangdu!”

Lin Sui’an cried, “Hey!”

“Let the entire Tang Kingdom — from the oldest white-haired elder to the youngest toddler — learn of the Iron-Blooded Flower God of Wealth’s glorious deeds!” declared Hua Yitang triumphantly.

Jin Ruo: “Hahahahahahahahaha hic!”

Lin Sui’an: “……”

The vendor grinned from ear to ear. With brisk efficiency he rolled every single woodblock print up neatly, bound them with hemp rope, and rolled up over a hundred prints in total — quite a voluminous stack. Yita beckoned Azure Dragon and Vermilion Bird to help, and there was a tremendous fuss and commotion, drawing all the nearby stall vendors crowding over to watch.

One person asked: What’s going on? Another replied: See that young master over there — the one dressed like a butterfly? Visitor from out of town, never seen the world. Bought over a hundred woodblock prints, says he’s taking them home as gifts.

Hey, what great luck! My brother-in-law’s younger brother also makes woodblock prints — I’d better go tell him quick; he might be able to make a tidy profit.

My big nephew also sells woodblock prints, just down the street. I’ll go call him over too.

My goodness — word spread from ten to ten and ten to a hundred. In no time at all, every woodblock print vendor in the market had converged on the spot, crying out their wares one after another. Hua Yitang was in high spirits to begin with, and was the sort to feed off a crowd’s energy — his little fan flying vigorously, he turned away no one, buying up everything wholesale; an entire street erupted in excitement. The traders stopped trading, those going home didn’t go home; cooks abandoned their pots, tailors set down their shears; young women, young wives, young men, old men, children — all came surging over to watch these free-spending out-of-towners from afar.

Lin Sui’an stood to one side wearing the expression of someone who has given up all hope. Trying to stop him would be useless anyway, so she let the pot be broken since it was cracked — she simply wouldn’t admit to anyone that the Iron-Blooded Flower God of Wealth had anything to do with her. Blame it all on Hua Yitang.

“…Are there any woodblock prints of the Goddess of War?” A voice drifted up faintly from within the crowd, nearly swallowed by the surrounding clamor. Lin Sui’an’s sharp ears caught it. She traced the sound — and saw an elderly person with a full head of white hair, leaning on a walking stick, groping and pressing through the throng. The crowd surged; the elderly person’s steps were unsteady, nearly stumbling and falling several times, perilously so.

Lin Sui’an quickly darted forward and guided the elder to a more open spot. “Elder, it is too crowded here. Please be careful.”

The elder thanked her repeatedly. “I heard people in the market saying the woodblock print vendors are all gathered here. May I ask — do you have any prints of the Goddess of War? I want to paste one at home for protection.”

Yicheng’s woodblock prints came in many versions, and Lin Sui’an did not know which depicted the Goddess of War, so she supported the elder and went to ask the vendors. The moment they heard the name “Goddess of War,” every one of them changed color and shook his head — they had never heard of any such figure, they said.

The elder grew agitated. “Nonsense! The Goddess of War is the guardian deity of Yicheng! Our Yicheng folk have always used the Goddess of War’s image to ward off evil! And you’re telling me there are no prints of the Goddess of War — you ungrateful wretches, every last one of you!”

“Old uncle, please lower your voice!” The vendor who had first sold prints to Hua Yitang waved his hands frantically. “That name — the Goddess of War — it cannot be spoken anymore!”

The elder was flushed with fury. “I want to welcome the Goddess of War into my home!”

The vendor said, “No one has made a print of the Goddess of War in over thirty years.”

“Nonsense — I had one freshly printed just before the new year. It’s only been a few days — how can there suddenly be none? You must be looking down on this old man for having no money. I have money! I want to welcome the Goddess of War into my home, to protect the homeland!”

Lin Sui’an understood now. This elder was probably so advanced in age that the mind had grown confused.

“Little brother, why not print one now?” Lin Sui’an suggested. “The elder has come a long way.”

The vendor let out a long sigh and rummaged through his basket for a good while, eventually producing a black cloth bundle. He found a quiet corner away from the crowd, unwrapped the cloth, and inside lay an old, worn woodblock print carving. He laid out paper, brushed on ink, and made a smooth, steady impression. He lifted it with both hands, blew it carefully dry, rolled it up, and pressed it into the elder’s arms. “There you are, uncle — hold it carefully, and don’t let others see it. Right, right — I’ll take the money — you walk slowly.”

The elder held the rolled print to his chest as though cradling a treasure, and hobbled away on his walking stick, swaying with each step.

Lin Sui’an stared at the carving plate on the ground, lost in thought. “Is this the Goddess of War?”

The vendor crouched down and carefully wiped the ink from the carving, murmuring quietly. “Yicheng has had no Goddess of War for a long time now.”

“I see this Goddess of War is of heroic bearing — bold and distinguished. May I have one printed as well?”

The vendor looked back at Lin Sui’an, opened his mouth, sighed deeply again, lowered his head, re-applied ink to the block, printed a sheet for Lin Sui’an, blew it dry, rolled it up, offered it with both hands, bowed with clasped fists, then collected his things and departed.

Lin Sui’an felt that the final clasped-fist bow was not directed at her — but at the Goddess of War in her hands.

The Hua Family’s secondary estate in Yicheng: Hua Residence Number 250. The numbering alone radiated a particular sort of cleverness.

Mu Xia had long since notified the resident household staff, who had been cleaning and sweeping for three full days in advance. The entire estate gleamed and sparkled, renewed from top to bottom.

Yita directed the Hua Family servants to carry in the luggage. Azure Dragon, Vermilion Bird, White Tiger, and Black Tortoise were charged with transporting Hua Yitang’s six large chests of robes. Vermilion Bird, the most articulate of the Four Celestial Guardians, had been entrusted with a key responsibility: explaining to the maids how to care for the garments — how to iron them, how to hang them, how to scent them with incense, how to guard against moisture, and how to sort and arrange the accessories by category. After hearing all this, several maids had stars spinning in their eyes.

Mu Xia was busy overseeing the evening meal, leading four cooks in the rear courtyard to select ingredients. Those bringing vegetables, those bringing fruit, those bringing wine, those bringing meat — all were queued at the back gate in a long line. A servant rushed out in a panic to find the water delivery man, collided with a cart and overturned half its load of fruit, which rolled out in every direction across the ground.

Hua Yitang had all the woodblock prints unloaded from the cart, then had two guards each carry a large bucket of paste to follow him. With great enthusiasm, he went strolling about the estate — plastering images on every door, sticking them on every window. In less than half a double-hour, the entire secondary estate was festooned with glowing likenesses of the Iron-Blooded Flower God of Wealth; every five steps one sentry post, every ten steps another picket — there was simply no way to rest the eyes.

Lin Sui’an could only take the approach of “out of sight, out of mind,” retreating to the main hall to enjoy a moment of peace.

All of the Hua Family’s residences and secondary estates had been furnished with grand master chairs — reportedly a trend that had swept the Tang Kingdom, now selling all over the country and beyond its borders. The one Lin Sui’an was currently seated in was the latest improved version, with widened armrests, a thicker lumbar support, and an added footrest. Leaning back into it brought the comfort of a sofa. Fangke had already fallen asleep in his chair.

Lin Sui’an was examining the woodblock print of the Goddess of War.

The figure in the print wore black armor, riding a white horse, wielding a horse-slaying sabre six feet in length — imposing and awe-inspiring. She was a woman, but her face was hidden — she wore a black mask, with only thin slits left at the eyes, nose, and mouth.

Jin Ruo leaned over. “This woodblock print isn’t as detailed as the Iron-Blooded Flower God of Wealth. Cheap goods, right?”

Lin Sui’an said, “Don’t you find the person in this print somewhat familiar?”

Jin Ruo tilted his head. “Do you?”

Lin Sui’an tapped her finger on the print. “This mask looks quite similar to Yun Zhong Yue’s — just a different color.”

Jin Ruo’s expression turned alarmed. “Master, don’t tell me you’ve developed a bit of a thing for Yun Zhong Yue?”

“What?”

“Whatever you do, don’t let the one surnamed Hua find out, or it’ll be an all-out tantrum and a bloody storm for sure!”

The sleeping Fangke produced a strangled noise from his throat.

Hua Yitang came sauntering grandly into the main hall, fan swaying. Jin Ruo snatched the woodblock print at lightning speed, tucked it into his lapel, and sat down elsewhere as if nothing had happened, picking up a plate of white sugar cakes to munch on.

Lin Sui’an noticed a lump of paste on Hua Yitang’s wide sleeve. Amused, she gestured to him to wipe it off. Hua Yitang glanced down — and instantly leapt to his feet. “Mu Xia — back to the room, change clothes —”

Vermilion Bird walked in with a cold expression. “The Head Steward is in the kitchen. He has no time for you. The clothes haven’t been ironed yet. Wait.”

Hua Yitang froze. Lin Sui’an and Jin Ruo stifled their laughter.

Vermilion Bird added one more sentence. “Someone has come to call. It is the Yicheng county magistrate.”

The Yicheng county magistrate had not come alone. He also brought six of Yicheng’s local gentry and prominent households — a certain Squire Zhang, Squire Li, Squire Tian, Squire Lu, Squire Kong, Squire Wang — and they filled an entire room, with an average age of around fifty.

The Yicheng county magistrate had a horse-face, was surnamed Song, and when he opened his mouth, every sentence carried the flavor of deep-seated grievance. “I have long heard that Hua Fourth Master is brilliant and learned, versed in a thousand arts, and has cracked countless extraordinary cases — truly the Tang Kingdom’s foremost master detective. I have been waiting day and night for you, and at last you have arrived!”

The moment everyone heard this opening, they all understood at once.

Fangke snapped his eyes open. “How many people have died? Where are the bodies? Are they still fresh?”

Magistrate Song waved his hands in a fluster. “No, no, no — no one has died!”

Fangke clicked his tongue.

Yita came in carrying a tea tray and served new-brewed Hundred Flowers Tea to everyone in turn. The cup set before Fangke was naturally the specially prepared hellfire-smoked tea. Fangke took a sip; his expression improved somewhat.

Hua Yitang cradled his tea bowl and blew on it gently. “What is the case?”

Magistrate Song wiped perspiration from his brow. “This case — it’s not exactly large, not exactly small, and is truly difficult to put into words —”

The squires were growing anxious at this:

“Oh, Magistrate Song, stop beating around the bush! The Tang Kingdom’s foremost master detective, Hua Fourth Master, is here before us. We may never get such an opportunity again!”

“At this rate, when will any of us be able to sleep at night?!”

Hua Yitang blinked. “Magistrate Song, please speak plainly. I am all ears.”

Magistrate Song sighed. “In recent months, Yicheng has been plagued by a rooftop thief. A great many things have been stolen, and the people of Yicheng are in a state of constant anxiety, unable to sleep at night. It is most vexing!”

Lin Sui’an’s mind gave a sharp ping. “What kind of rooftop thief?”

“No one has ever seen this thief’s face!” said Magistrate Song. “The person comes and goes without a trace, mysterious and unfathomable. And this thief is extraordinarily brazen — before each theft, they even send a flower-note announcing it in advance!”

So saying, he produced an envelope from his robe and handed it to Hua Yitang. Inside was a flower-note with a sprig of plum blossoms painted in the lower right corner, and several crooked characters written upon it:

【On the tenth day of the tenth month, at the third quarter of the Zi hour — the most prized possession of your household’s master.】

The expression on Hua Yitang’s face was difficult to describe. “The paper is plain grass paper; the ink is discolored and has a slight odor — likely cheap market stock as well. The plum painting is — rather unattractive. And the handwriting — even worse. May I ask impertinently — what was stolen?”

“From my house!” Squire Lu raised his hand. “It was my wife’s… ahem… her bodice undergarment…”

“Pfft —” Lin Sui’an, Jin Ruo, and Fangke simultaneously sprayed their tea.

The corner of Hua Yitang’s eye twitched. The flower-note in his hands had suddenly become a hot potato — neither comfortable to hold nor possible to put down. He pinched it by one corner with thumb and forefinger, trying to covertly slide it back into the envelope.

“Not so fast, Fourth Master Hua!” Magistrate Song pointed. “This thief signed a name on the back of the flower-note.”

Hua Yitang rearranged his expression and slowly turned the flower-note over. His pupils contracted abruptly.

Three characters, written in a spindly, pinched hand: Yun. Zhong. Yue.

Short Skit

Yun Zhong Yue: Achoo! Achoo! Achoo!