It was Lin Sui’an’s first time seeing a thief’s reconnaissance marks, and honestly, she hadn’t the faintest idea what any of them meant.

There were squares, rectangles, triangles, parallelograms, wavy lines, crosses, ticks, circles, dots, and asterisks. Some circles had dots inside them; some stars had crosses through them; some were a string of dots. There were also all manner of combinations of symbols, drawn in extremely inconspicuous places with thin charcoal sticks — such as beneath the threshold of the rear gate.

If Yun Zhong Yue had not pointed them out, these outsiders never would have spotted them.

Lin Sui’an very much wanted to ask what each symbol meant — but one glance at Yun Zhong Yue’s air of swaggering, bouncing arrogance made her utterly disinclined to open her mouth and ask. Hua Yitang appeared to be in the same position, undergoing a fierce internal struggle as he shot sidelong looks at Yun Zhong Yue. His little fan snapped shut, then open; open, then shut — faster and faster, the rhythmic click-click-click bringing out a cold sweat on Magistrate Song’s forehead.

“Ahem — if I may venture to ask, great hero Yun — what do these marker symbols signify?” Magistrate Song asked.

Yun Zhong Yue clicked his tongue, swept back his robe, and crouched down, pointing at the combination of dots, lines, and circles beneath the threshold. “At the third quarter of the hour of Chen — high foot traffic, loose security at the rear gate, no guard dogs inside the residence.”

Magistrate Song was deeply impressed. “Every trade has its master craftsman, indeed.”

Hua Yitang couldn’t hold back any longer. He crouched down too. “What does a circle with a dot in it mean?”

Yun Zhong Yue: “This residence is a priority target.”

“And one short vertical line with three horizontal dots?”

“That indicates the reconnaissance time.”

“And the wavy line?”

Yun Zhong Yue sighed in resignation. “Hua the Fourth — as the saying goes, cats have their way, mice have theirs. Be a good carefree military gentleman and don’t dream of snatching our thieves’ bread.”

Hua Yitang let out a dismissive “Hmph.” “Stingy.”

“What this means,” Lin Sui’an said, “is that this thief came to the rear gate of the Hua residence on some day at the third quarter of the hour of Chen.”

Mu Xia: “From the hour of Chen-beginning to Chen-midpoint is when the rear kitchen takes in deliveries. The back lane is very busy — vegetable deliverers, meat deliverers, grain deliverers, oil deliverers, water deliverers. Half a shichen earlier, the night-soil carriers would have been passing through as well.”

Hua Yitang stood up. “Where are the other marks?”

Yun Zhong Yue didn’t answer. He had been drawn in by the woodblock prints pasted on the rear gate — two magnificent, imposingly flamboyant Iron-Blooded Floral God of Wealth door guardians smiling their grand, gorgeous smiles at everyone present.

Yun Zhong Yue burst out laughing. Lin Sui’an turned her face away: So mortifying!

Hua Yitang: “Oi!”

Jin Ruo came running over. “Yita and I found marks too — in the rear kitchen.”

The rear kitchen’s marks were different again from the previous ones, with added triangles and rectangles, drawn on the kitchen wall beside the stove. If one did not look carefully, one might easily mistake them for soot.

Yun Zhong Yue crossed his arms and translated: “At the third quarter of the hour of Wu — the rear kitchen is empty, the guards are drowsy.” It also recorded the position of the rear kitchen.

“This thief came to the rear kitchen on some afternoon?” Hua Yitang glanced at Mu Xia. “Around midday each day, are there often outsiders coming and going within the residence?”

Mu Xia’s expression sharpened. “I will go and summon the resident steward at once.”

Everyone continued forward, following the trail of markers. They found various combinations of symbols in the privy’s baseboards, on the water room’s cistern, on the vegetable cellar door, and on the garden’s rockery stones. The deeper into the inner residence they went, the more complex the symbol combinations became — particularly the various combinations of squares, rectangles, and triangles. This time, even Yita had guessed what they meant.

“This is — a layout, of the residence — outrageous!”

Yun Zhong Yue: “A residence of this size — that the thief could map it this thoroughly — means he has been here more than once. Possibly several times a day. Very patient.”

Lin Sui’an: “If that is the case, it means this person has an identity that not only grants access to the rear kitchen, but allows them to go as deep as the inner courtyard garden without arousing suspicion.”

Magistrate Song: “Could it truly be an inside job after all?”

Hua Yitang shook his head. “Quite the opposite — precisely because this thief came so frequently to reconnoiter, it proves he is not someone from inside the Hua residence.”

Yun Zhong Yue: “He’s a novice. Poor memory. If it were me, I wouldn’t need such complicated markers — one walk-through and it’s all committed to memory.”

Everyone in the group simultaneously shot Yun Zhong Yue a pointed look.

Mu Xia arrived with the resident steward in tow. The resident steward, named Mu Tong, was forty years old and the full-time housekeeper of the Hua Family’s Two Hundred and Fifty Manor. During the normal periods when the manor stood empty, he was responsible for daily upkeep, staffing, procurement, and financial accounting — he knew the situation even better than Mu Xia. Apparently having been briefed by Mu Xia, he arrived carrying a register.

The register recorded the names of all persons entering and leaving the Hua residence, with their times of entry and departure, the nature of their business, and even which parts of the Hua residence they had visited. The thoroughness of the work was considerable.

In chronological order, the main categories of outsiders who entered the Hua residence were: night-soil carriers, firewood deliverers, charcoal vendors, vegetable farmers, and butcher-shop assistants — these came almost every day, but their movements were confined entirely to the rear kitchen area. The grain and flour merchants came roughly once every half-month, sometimes in the morning, sometimes in the afternoon, and likewise stayed only in the rear kitchen.

The one category that was different — the water carriers. Sometimes they came twice a day, morning and evening; sometimes three times a day, split between morning, midday, and evening. And unlike the others, their routes covered not only the rear kitchen but also the water room, vegetable cellar, and privy — and for the past half-month, they had also visited the garden.

“Why do the water carriers come so frequently?” Hua Yitang asked.

Mu Tong: “Fourth Young Master may not be aware — Yicheng has a particular geographical character. It is rather arid, with no rivers or lakes, relying chiefly on well water. But the local well water is highly alkaline, and in bad weather it turns bitter and brackish. So the more discerning households in the city purchase mountain spring water for their cooking and drinking. The best spring water comes from Lianhua Mountain, ten li from Yicheng. It is not easy to transport, and the fees are not cheap. Over time, Yicheng has developed a considerable trade of water carriers, who make their living delivering water. Because the distance is great and the Hua residence has many residents, one delivery often does not last a full day — so typically two or three deliveries a day are made.”

Hua Yitang nodded. “What did the water carriers go to the vegetable cellar for?”

“Beneath the vegetable cellar is the ice cellar. As the weather grows colder, the season for making and storing ice is approaching, and some spring water needs to be stored there in reserve.”

“Does the garden also use mountain spring water?”

“The garden’s rockery consists of Taihu stones — expensive, and they love moisture. Yicheng is dry and windswept, and Taihu stones need to be cleaned and maintained with water regularly. If well water is used, mineral deposits will form on the stone surface and damage the stone base. So every so often, mountain spring water is used to clean them. In preparation for Fourth Young Master’s arrival this time, cleaning began a week ago.”

Jin Ruo slapped his palm. “That’s it — these water carriers are by far the most suspect.”

Lin Sui’an: “How many water carriers regularly come and go from the Hua residence?”

Mu Tong looked somewhat troubled. “Roughly seventeen or eighteen.”

“That many?”

“Some come in the morning, some at midday, some in the evening — the Hua residence uses a great deal of water, so many are needed.”

Magistrate Song: “Simple enough — arrest them all and interrogate them one by one. The thief will surely come out.”

“I’m still in a hurry to take up my post in Andu. I don’t have the leisure to interrogate them one by one.” Hua Yitang handed the register to Jin Ruo. “Bring me a map of Yicheng.”

Jin Ruo muttered “how did you know I’d have a map” under his breath, then produced the map and handed it to Hua Yitang. Without waiting for an order, Mu Xia had already called for attendants to bring a table, chairs, a lamp, and the four treasures of the study — even an incense burner had been set up.

Hua Yitang rolled up his sleeves, smoothed his robe, and sat down. Wetting the tip of his brush with ink, he asked: “Magistrate Song — apart from the six estate owners, have any ordinary residents had things stolen?”

Magistrate Song hesitated. “There have been, but they were worthless items from commoner households. The county office filed reports, but since the estate owners’ valuables were more important —”

Lin Sui’an’s brow furrowed. A cold glance swept in Magistrate Song’s direction.

Magistrate Song felt as though a bucket of ice water had been poured over him, freezing his heart, liver, spleen, lungs, and kidneys solid.

Yun Zhong Yue let out a contemptuous snicker. “Chamber pots, belly bands, dog bowls, wigs, cured ham — quite the valuable items indeed!”

Hua Yitang’s expression turned grave. “To a common household, every needle and thread is precious. What Magistrate Song said just now is not something a local official and parent of the people should be saying!”

Magistrate Song jolted to attention and quickly cupped his hands in apology. “Song was in the wrong to say so!”

“Go and retrieve the incident report files.”

“Yes, yes, yes! Someone — go and fetch the files!”

“Please have Magistrate Song first mark the locations of the five estate owners’ residences on the map.”

“Oh? Of course, of course!”

After Magistrate Song had marked the map, Hua Yitang had Mu Tong mark the routes the water carriers used to enter and leave the city, and then added Tian Guicheng’s home in his own hand. He studied the map in silence, his left hand moving rapidly over the surface, measuring something.

This time not only Magistrate Song was baffled — even Yun Zhong Yue was at a loss. He asked: “What is Hua the Fourth doing?”

Jin Ruo: “The Hua fellow claims to be some sort of inner disciple of Reverend Shiye of Jinguang Grotto at the Seven-Star Observatory — says that with a mere pinch of his fingers, he can calculate seven or eight parts of anything in the world. Right now he’s probably calculating where the criminal lives.”

Yun Zhong Yue’s face twitched oddly. “He’s bluffing, surely?”

Jin Ruo shrugged. “Believe it or don’t — the serial killer in the Eastern Capital was found exactly this way.”

Yun Zhong Yue’s entire scalp twitched. Whatever expression was hiding behind the human-skin mask must have been something remarkable, to produce so strange a reaction. He turned to look at Lin Sui’an and lowered his voice. “Is that true or false?”

“False,” Lin Sui’an said helplessly. “Hua Yitang uses a method of deductive inference to solve cases. Simply put, he combines the locations of the crimes, the suspect’s daily habits, and the psychology of the criminal to calculate the most probable address range where the criminal lives.”

Yun Zhong Yue’s eyes twitched wildly. The human-skin mask nearly slipped off, and he stuck it back on again in a hurry. “That sounds even more preposterous!”

The county office’s files arrived. Hua Yitang scanned through them at a rate of twenty lines per eye-sweep, annotated the map in fluid, sweeping strokes, drew a deep breath, and then buried himself in drawing large circles, small circles, long lines, and short lines. Yicheng was not a large city, and the water carriers’ routes were quite regular — the volume of calculation was several times smaller than in the Eastern Capital murder case. In no more than a quarter of an hour, Hua Yitang had locked onto the target. His brush tip landed with a decisive tap. “The thief’s home is on this street.”

Magistrate Song: “What — what?!”

Jin Ruo took a look. “Oh, Nanchao Lane — not far.”

Lin Sui’an: “Bring the steward’s register.”

“Understood! Whoever among the water carriers in the register lives on this lane — that’s the Yicheng thief!” Jin Ruo’s face was alight with excitement. “Yita — Green Dragon, Vermilion Bird, White Tiger, Black Tortoise — come with me to catch the thief!”

The group cheered and ran off. Magistrate Song finally snapped to attention and hurried after them with his constables in tow.

Hua Yitang crossed one leg over the other in the grand armchair and lifted his teacup for a leisurely sip.

Yun Zhong Yue looked at Hua Yitang the way one looks at something supernatural.

Lin Sui’an understood Yun Zhong Yue perfectly. The first time she had seen Hua Yitang apply geographic criminal profiling, she had been just as staggered — and had genuinely wondered for a moment whether Hua Yitang was a computer come to life.

Hua Yitang had clearly noticed Yun Zhong Yue’s stare. He set down his teacup, lifted his chin, and with a snap threw open his fan, beginning to sway with practiced, self-satisfied elegance.

Yun Zhong Yue rolled his eyes, then transferred his gaze to Lin Sui’an. “Is Lin Niangzi not going to help?”

“An impostor — Jin Ruo is more than sufficient.” Lin Sui’an hugged Qian Jing and gave Yun Zhong Yue a sideways look. “What I need to keep a close eye on is the genuine article.”

Yun Zhong Yue smiled faintly and began to amble slowly about the courtyard. Lin Sui’an followed his every step, maintaining a distance no greater than Qian Jing’s striking range — so that at the first sign of any unusual move from Yun Zhong Yue, a single slash would finish it.

As they walked, Yun Zhong Yue stopped in front of the kitchen door. Two more lavish Iron-Blooded Floral God of Wealth woodblock prints were pasted on the kitchen door panels. Yun Zhong Yue stared at the prints — and grew oddly still, as if lost in a reverie.

Lin Sui’an’s gaze moved between the prints and the outline of Yun Zhong Yue’s back, and something stirred in her heart. “If you like these God of Wealth prints, I’ll give you one. Hua Yitang bought several hundred of them.”

Yun Zhong Yue: “I couldn’t possibly — I’d have nightmares.”

“If you don’t like the God of Wealth, I have a print of the War Goddess — said to ward off evil and protect the home.”

The moment those words left her mouth, Lin Sui’an suddenly felt that the atmosphere around Yun Zhong Yue had changed. It was a heaviness that was difficult to name — as though something had pressed his shoulders three parts lower.

Yun Zhong Yue turned slowly. Through the human-skin mask, his true expression was invisible, but Lin Sui’an could see his eyes — jet black and fathomless, like a dark spring in the dead of night: the surface placid and still, but deep undercurrents churning beneath.

Lin Sui’an’s brow stirred. “The War Goddess wears a mask on her face. I think she looks rather like you.”

Yun Zhong Yue regarded Lin Sui’an in silence for a long moment. The left side of his face twitched twice, pulling into a strange, skewed smile. “According to legend, the War Goddess who guards Yicheng carries a horse-slaying blade and is peerless wherever she turns her gaze — one woman holds the pass, ten thousand men cannot advance — with the power of one against a hundred. She sounds more like you, actually.”

Lin Sui’an went blank. Her first instinct was: My god — could it be that the original owner of this body, beyond the titles of “Master of Qian Jing” and “Breaker of Armies,” has a third hidden identity? Are you kidding me? Stacking buffs? She had absolutely no desire to be handed such a melodramatic plotline!

“Crack!” A plum-blossom folding fan cut across Lin Sui’an’s line of sight, and Hua Yitang’s puffed-up face squeezed into the gap. “What are you two doing?”

Lin Sui’an: “Hm?”

“His face is both ugly and old — what is there to look at?!” Hua Yitang asked, his round eyes staring wide.

Lin Sui’an: “……”

Big brother — we were just getting to the critical part of the conversation, what are you interrupting for?!

Yun Zhong Yue let out a laugh. Yita came sprinting in, face lit up with delight, shouting: “Brother Jin is amazing — they caught the thief!”

Side Story

Fangke: Zzzzz. Zzzzz.