“Kou’er, don’t let her deceive you!” Su Chengxian came scrambling over on all fours. A red swollen handprint had bloomed across his left cheek, making him look even more like a pig’s head. “That poem — that poem was copied from her!”

Luo Kou’s eyes flooded again with eager, expectant light as she looked at Su Chengxian.

The Luo family members also voiced their doubts:

“Lin family Niangzi, how can you prove this poem was given to you as a declaration by Young Master Su?”

Lin Sui’an held up the diary. “The date is written here in plain sight.”

Su Chengxian’s face drained of color. “You must have stolen the declaration poem I gave to Kou’er and forged this diary! This is exactly what she is — the most venomous of women — to have devised such a despicable scheme to tear me and Kou’er apart!”

“Whether it is forgery can easily be determined,” Meng Man said loudly. “Lin Niangzi, would you allow us to examine your diary?”

Lin Sui’an hesitated slightly. This diary was, after all, the original owner’s private record; it probably wasn’t suitable for public reading.

“She doesn’t dare! That diary must be suspect!” Su Chengxian bellowed.

Lin Sui’an: “…”

This man truly understood the original owner’s nature very well. If she were here, she would certainly be unwilling to let the secret thoughts of her heart be publicly read — for a woman, that would have been unbearably humiliating.

The Luo family members jeered:

“Such a despicable village woman!”

“To use such a vicious scheme to sabotage our Luo family and Su family alliance — her heart is condemnable!”

“Master of the house, a woman with a heart like a snake and a scorpion’s tail — have her driven out at once!”

“Drive her out!”

“Drive her out!”

The hall erupted with shouts and abuse. Su Chengxian straightened his clothing, donned once more the skin of a civilized gentleman, and bowed to Luo Shichuan. “Master Luo, my feelings for Kou’er are known to heaven and earth. This declaration poem was composed by Su with his heart and soul. I ask the master to discern the truth clearly!”

“Master of the house, this matter is surely not simple. It concerns Kou’er’s future for life — we cannot listen only to Su Chengxian’s side of things. I beg the master to be cautious.” Meng Man said urgently.

Luo Shichuan frowned, deliberating for a moment. “Kou’er, what do you think?”

Luo Kou looked at Su Chengxian, her eyes shimmering, her cherry lips pressed tight. “I — I don’t know…”

Luo Shichuan sighed.

Luo Kou clutched her handkerchief, looking on the verge of tears.

Lin Sui’an’s chest gave a dull ache. She recalled the last lines of the original owner’s diary:

【…my heart aches and rages to think of how young Luo Niangzi, so young and deeply in love, has also been deceived and persecuted by that wretched Su-pig…】

If it concerned the Luo family’s daughter, the original owner probably wouldn’t mind. With that thought, Lin Sui’an gently patted Luo Kou’s hand.

Su Chengxian made as if to rush over, then remembered the mark on his face and retreated two steps, howling: “Kou’er, do not be swayed by this scheming, treacherous woman!”

Lin Sui’an treated it like a dog barking and paid no attention. She pressed the diary into Luo Kou’s arms. “Whether what I say is true or false, judge for yourself.”

Luo Kou looked up in surprise, glanced at Luo Shichuan, who gave the slightest nod. Luo Kou set her jaw with a look of resolve, tucked the diary close, and walked quickly away. Su Chengxian made to follow, but the stony-faced Meng Man stepped in his way.

Su Chengxian shoved Meng Man roughly aside. “Master Luo, what is the meaning of this?! Would you rather believe a village woman than me, Su?!”

Luo Shichuan’s expression did not waver. “If Young Master Su has a clear conscience, what harm is there in letting Kou’er read the diary?”

Su Chengxian’s voice turned imperious. “Master Luo — the Su family has never suffered such an outrage!”

At those words, the faces of the Luo family members all changed. One after another they spoke up:

“Master of the house, this truly is improper!”

“Young Master Su is of a noble scholar-official family — our Luo family’s behavior has been too disrespectful. If word gets out, it could damage the Luo family’s name!”

“If the facts bear out what Young Master Su has said, Luo is willing to make amends on bended knee.” Luo Shichuan rose to his feet. “But until the facts are clear, I ask Young Master Su not to see my daughter again.”

Lin Sui’an sat in the Luo family’s inner hall, continuously shifting the weight of her hips left and right to ease the numbness in her legs.

The inner hall was spacious — at least two hundred square meters in floor area. The entire structure sat on a raised stone foundation, with a ceiling height of over four meters, large windows and doors. The most exquisite feature was the carved lattice on the windows — birds, fish, and insects rendered with lifelike delicacy, the inner surface covered with translucent paper that kept out wind while letting in light; together with the shifting play of light and shadow, it produced a wonderfully misty, artistic quality.

On the east side there was a partition; beyond it lay a bedroom, which it would not be appropriate to inspect. On the north side stood three screens — wooden frames with paper faces, with no patterns at all. The master of the Luo household clearly favored an unadorned, understated aesthetic. Behind the screens stood a wall of bookshelves stacked with scroll books, bamboo strips, and bound volumes; at the very bottom lay bundles of fine and coarse hide cord.

Outside the screens stood a wide platform that resembled a broad couch, with a low table placed on it and an elaborate arrangement of tea implements set out upon it, a small clay furnace with its fire burning low, water burbling and bubbling.

Lin Sui’an noticed a three-legged curved low stand beside her cushion and observed Luo Shichuan’s sitting posture; she deduced this must be an armrest — one could prop one’s arm on it for a more relaxed lean. Still far less comfortable than a chair or sofa, but better than pure kneeling.

Luo Shichuan unhurriedly poured a bowl of tea and set it before Lin Sui’an. “Please.”

The tea was greenish and murky, bubbling faintly with some mysterious foam. Lin Sui’an steeled herself and took a sip. A wave of bitterness shot straight up into her skull. Good lord — absolutely undrinkable.

“Our people were sent to Xuanyuan County a month ago,” Luo Shichuan said. “We should have a reply any day now.”

So Uncle Luo had seen through Su Chengxian long ago, and today had simply been waiting for an opportunity to deal with the scoundrel.

Lin Sui’an set down the tea bowl and spoke directly. “Master Luo is a man of clear perception.”

Luo Shichuan shook his head. “I merely know my own limitations. The Su family of Suizhou is one of the Five Clans and Seven Sects — their family prestige is illustrious, and even though they have somewhat declined in recent years, they are still entirely beyond the reach of common people like us, merchants and traders. My clan members have all been dazzled by the Su family name; blinded by self-interest, they have lost their virtue and their conduct. As head of this family, I am truly ashamed.”

“Does Master Luo suspect that Su Chengxian’s identity is fraudulent?”

“Young Master Su does indeed carry a Su family token, and I have also verified his travel document — those cannot be faked. However—” Luo Shichuan said, “the scholar-official family tree is large and complex, with many legitimate and branch-line descendants, each of different standing. How to tell one from another, only they themselves probably know clearly.”

Uncle Luo was being remarkably tactful. Looking at what a sorry state Su Chengxian was in, he was almost certainly a throwaway offshoot of the clan — not fit to be seated at any table of consequence, barely able to dupe commoners with his aristocratic dreams.

With that thought, Lin Sui’an absently picked up the tea bowl and took a sip; the bitterness nearly rearranged her facial features again.

Luo Shichuan quietly replaced her bowl with a fresh one and poured plain water into it, setting it before her.

“Why was Lin Niangzi willing to give the diary to my daughter?”

Lin Sui’an sipped the plain water; her taste buds came back to life. “We are both women. I could not bear to see her deceived by a petty villain and have her life ruined.”

Luo Shichuan was silent for a long moment. “Lin Niangzi is righteous and noble-spirited,” he finally said. “Worthy indeed of being the master of Qian Jing.”

“Master Luo knows about Qian Jing?!” Lin Sui’an exclaimed.

Luo Shichuan nodded and rose to retrieve from behind the screen a bamboo scroll, which he unrolled with great care. The scroll was badly damaged — its edges bore traces of burning, and though re-strung with hide cord, it still looked precarious.

“I am passionately fond of restoring ancient texts. This book came to me from an official of the shadow courts — its provenance is now untraceable. It records a number of ancient renowned implements, most of which have vanished from the world.” Luo Shichuan pointed to one column. “Qian Jing is recorded here.”

Lin Sui’an squinted, staring at the battered, limb-missing seal-script characters on the bamboo strips, and had a premonition that this wouldn’t go well.

【…omens of the uncanny…calamity and omen… at the first crack of heaven’s light… the ominous blade Qian Jing… ghost… subduing curses… washed in emerald, the edge grows keen… a thousand kinds… demonic and evil… slash… cleanse…】

In short: this blade was bad luck.

Lin Sui’an suddenly felt that the blade hanging at her waist was uncomfortably warm.

“I see — a thousand varieties of demonic evil, all of which it can cleanse. Hence the name, Qian Jing — ‘Thousand Purity.'” Luo Shichuan nodded in approval.

Lin Sui’an: “…”

Uncle Luo, your reading comprehension skills were truly something to behold.

Luo Shichuan carefully rolled the bamboo scroll back into its cloth bag and pushed it toward Lin Sui’an. “Please accept this as a gift of gratitude. I hope you won’t refuse it.”

Lin Sui’an was quite overwhelmed. “Many thanks!”

Another key item acquired.

Luo Shichuan sighed again — from the moment he had entered the room he seemed to have done little but sigh. “Lin Niangzi is so young, yet already the master of such a divine blade. And yet Kou’er—”

Lin Sui’an, having received a gift, naturally wanted to offer a word of comfort. “Su Chengxian is deep-scheming and sweet-tongued with a venomous heart. Kou’er Niangzi is still young; it’s not strange that she couldn’t see through him. But she is a blessed young woman, with Master Luo and Brother Meng looking out for her. I’m sure a good match awaits her.”

“Still young and therefore unable to see through people…” Luo Shichuan gazed out the window. “I rather think the ability to judge people has little to do with age…”

Lin Sui’an followed his gaze and saw, standing tall in the courtyard, an osmanthus tree. A few flower buds had just emerged among the leaves, and even now a faint sweet fragrance drifted over. Lin Sui’an had lived in the north before transmigrating and had rarely seen osmanthus trees; the fragrance left her pleasantly drowsy, and she found herself wondering what it would be like when the whole tree bloomed.

“This tree was planted when Kou’er was born. Meng Man was four years old that year, newly arrived at the Luo household, still unable to string words together clearly. How quickly fourteen winters have passed — like a white horse glimpsed through a crack in the wall.” Luo Shichuan’s eyes grew warm and gentle. “When Kou’er was first learning to read, I taught her the Thousand Character Classic under this tree. When she couldn’t remember the text she would peek at Meng Man; Meng Man would always help her. Those two grew up as childhood companions, innocent and inseparable. I still remember — on a Mid-Autumn night all those years ago, the osmanthus in full bloom, fragrance filling the air, Kou’er and Meng Man appeared with two little mud-smeared faces and presented me with a tea-urn they had been hiding away for days. The tea that night was so good…”

Adding osmanthus cakes would have made it even better, Lin Sui’an thought.

“If Lin Niangzi does not mind, would you join us for moon-viewing on Mid-Autumn night? By then, I believe all will be settled.”

Lin Sui’an smiled and cupped her hands. “I would be happy to. Only—”

“Only?”

“Master Luo — don’t forget my twelve pigs.”

Luo Shichuan burst out laughing, his brow smoothing, his eyes bright and clear.

This was the first time Lin Sui’an had seen Luo Shichuan laugh.

It was also the last.

Luo Shichuan was as good as his word. Three days later, just as the Luo household servants brought in the midday meal, Meng Man appeared and delivered six strings of coins — the full and genuine article: one hundred coins to a string, sixty strings total, several dozen jin packed into a leather sack, which hit the low table with a resounding creak.

“Don’t you have paper banknotes or exchange certificates?”

“What are paper banknotes and exchange certificates?”

“…”

Lin Sui’an collected herself and decided to finish the midday meal first. The reason she called it the “midday meal” was because people here ate only twice a day: once in the morning and once in the afternoon. The morning meal was called the “midday meal,” its staple food being millet; the afternoon meal was called the “evening meal,” its staple being rice, occasionally with wheat-flour dishes. The meat and vegetable portions were rationed and served separately — probably a dietary habit formed because grain yields in this world were insufficient.

Beyond that, Lin Sui’an had gleaned only surface-level information about this world. The setting appeared to be a parallel historical era blending elements of the Sui and Tang dynasties; the imperial family was of the surname Xuanyuan. The kingdom had stood for over three hundred years in unbroken prosperity, and its national title happened also to be Tang. The current emperor was the tenth of his line, with the reign era name of Xuanfeng. Within the country, the most exalted bloodlines after the imperial family were those of the aristocratic clans known as the Five Clans and Seven Sects. The Su family, in which Su Chengxian belonged, was the most poorly-off of the five clans; reportedly no member of the Su family had held an official post at court for over thirty years — they were teetering on the edge of decline. Yet even so, the scholar-official bloodline still stood at a height common people could not begin to dream of reaching.

“Are the Luo family members still pressuring Master Luo to pursue an alliance with the Su family?” Lin Sui’an asked.

Meng Man nodded grimly. “The scholar-official families place the utmost importance on bloodline. With the sole exception of the Hua Family of Yangdu, who are a law unto themselves, none of the Seven Sects would ever agree to marry outside the Five Clans. In recent years the Su family has declined; out of necessity they have agreed to allow their sons to marry outside the clan. The Luo family members all see this as a once-in-a-thousand-year opportunity they cannot afford to pass up.”

Lin Sui’an: “…”

The way he described it, the Su family sounded like they were selling breeding stock.

“The family retainer sent to investigate Xuanyuan County should return tonight. If nothing goes wrong, by tomorrow—” Meng Man paused at that, then clasped his hands together. “I misread you earlier, Lin Niangzi. My apologies.”

Lin Sui’an: “Hm?”

“When you signed the annulment document, I thought you had forgotten our agreement and felt quite aggrieved. But it turns out you had already decided on your course of action — I truly am ashamed of myself.”

Agreement? What agreement?!

Lin Sui’an was frantic internally, but dared not show it. She could only mumble vaguely, “It’s all right.”

Meng Man looked mildly embarrassed.

Lin Sui’an: Please don’t make that face — it puts me under tremendous pressure!

“So — how has Luo Niangzi been these past few days?” Lin Sui’an scratched her head to change the subject.

Meng Man’s expression grew subdued. “She hasn’t come out in three days. She won’t see anyone.”

“Has she been eating?”

“What?”

“Has she been eating properly?”

“…She’s barely been eating, but she has taken some of the food and tea that’s been brought.”

Lin Sui’an nodded. “If she can eat, it’s not serious.”

“…”

Lin Sui’an picked up her tea bowl and ventured tentatively: “I heard Master Luo say that you and Luo Niangzi are childhood companions…”

The question had a remarkable effect. Meng Man’s face flared red as a monkey’s backside; he was so flustered he nearly knocked over the table.

The tension in Lin Sui’an’s chest eased.

So Meng Man was in love with Kou’er. Which meant that his agreement with the original owner had almost certainly been something like hoping she would reconcile with Su Chengxian — there was nothing romantic between the two of them.

Good.

“M-Meng-mou still has to make a trip to the East Market — f-f-first — first excuse me.” Meng Man jumped to his feet, his face still bright red.

“Shopping?” Lin Sui’an brightened. “I’ll come with you — an extra pair of hands.”

“There is no need to trouble Lin Niangzi. Tomorrow we’re receiving the Mu family merchant convoy’s sixth escort team, and there’s a great deal of purchasing to be done; and we also need to prepare the Mid-Autumn moon-viewing fruit tonight. Kou’er loves dried grapes — if we don’t go now they’ll be sold out at the East Market — s-some other day I’ll take Lin Niangzi—” Meng Man sprinted out the door, face still scarlet.

Lin Sui’an didn’t know whether to laugh or shake her head.

Who knew this fellow would be so thin-skinned.

Hold on — hadn’t he just said today was Mid-Autumn? Lin Sui’an sat with that thought, then pulled out the ancient bamboo scroll and read through the entry on Qian Jing once more, her gaze resting on a particular line.

【…washed in emerald, the edge grows keen…】

These were the only consecutive words in the entry, but she couldn’t make head or tail of it. Better to ask Uncle Luo — the master reading comprehension champion — about it tonight.

With that plan settled, Lin Sui’an took a leisurely afternoon nap, enjoyed the evening meal, and when night had fallen, strolled unhurriedly out the door. As she walked she found herself amused; going along like this almost felt like she was heading to a date with Uncle Luo.

Come to think of it, Uncle Luo was nearly fifty, yet healthy and composed in bearing and quite handsome; he must have been a striking young man once. Compared to her own father—

Lin Sui’an’s footsteps paused. She gave a self-mocking smile.

If there was one thing she was most satisfied about since transmigrating, it was this: from now on, she had nothing to do with that person ever again.

A pale amber glow floated down like gauze onto her feet. Lin Sui’an looked up, startled — she had already reached the inner courtyard. The inner hall’s lamplight filtered through the lattice window, casting flower-shadow patterns dancing across the ground; the fragrance of osmanthus drifted in the dark. The courtyard floor was laid with thick bamboo mats; the small tables held fresh green fruit, and one dish of dried grapes, catching candlelight. Among the leaves of the osmanthus tree clustered pale yellow tufts — buds on the very edge of blooming.

The courtyard was very still. No one was there.

The roots of Lin Sui’an’s hair stood on end. She sensed an atmosphere she could not quite name — as though some invisible creature were lurking in the darkness, silently watching her.

Lin Sui’an gripped Qian Jing tightly and stepped forward quietly, straining her ears for any sound in every direction. No wind. No sound. No insects. Only the soft scrape of shoe soles across the grass.

Then — the lamp inside Luo Shichuan’s window went out. The entire courtyard plunged into darkness. Thick clouds had gathered overhead without her noticing, blotting out the moon.

“Master Luo?” Lin Sui’an walked to the door and tapped lightly on the panel. The door swung open with a creak. Lin Sui’an reflexively stepped back half a pace and hesitated.

There is a saying: don’t pursue the desperate into a corner; don’t enter a dark room. Something doesn’t feel right here!

Just then, from within the gap of the open door, a suppressed breathing sound drifted out, which sounded like it could be Luo Shichuan’s.

Lin Sui’an suddenly recalled a piece of popular health advice: middle-aged and elderly people who fall often cannot get back up on their own, and if not handled properly it could become life-threatening. She immediately pushed the door open and rushed in. “Master Luo, are you—”

In that instant, Lin Sui’an caught a smell: astringent and metallic, thin as the microorganisms floating on a pond’s surface, settling without warning across every inch of skin exposed to the air. Something within her body surged upward as if to meet it — the two presences devouring each other, tearing at each other. A sharp ringing filled her ears. Every muscle in her body seemed to fall under a curse, turning rigid as stone.

Suddenly a violent pain erupted at the back of her neck. Lin Sui’an collapsed, and in the last instant before consciousness fled, she remembered where she had encountered this smell before — this body knew it intimately —

It was the smell of human blood.

Lin Sui’an was jolted awake by the sound of frantic pounding on the door.

The first thing she saw was the high ceiling beam. Her first thought was that she had transmigrated again, until she heard Meng Man’s voice shouting from outside the door.

“Master of the house! Master! Are you all right?!”

Lin Sui’an pressed her hand to the back of her neck and sat up, vision swimming black at the edges, the back of her skull throbbing. She looked around: beneath her was the blue-brick floor; to her left, a bookshelf stacked with volumes; on the floor, a tangle of fine hide cord; to her right, a three-panel wooden-framed paper screen — this was Luo Shichuan’s room.

The memories of the previous night came rushing in like a tide. Lin Sui’an stiffened with a start and muttered an internal curse. Supporting her aching head, she rose, moved around to the outside of the screen — and a trail of vivid red blood slammed into her vision.

Lin Sui’an’s mind went numb. Her gaze involuntarily followed the blood trail: it curved around the low table in a wide arc, mixed with bloody footprints. The trail ended at a pair of blood-stained boot soles. Lin Sui’an’s gaze traveled slowly upward from the boots — legs, body — until it reached Luo Shichuan’s face. He sat propped against the inner door, ramrod-straight and stiff, head lolling to one side, eyes closed. His face, neck, and hands were all ashen white. His left chest bore a gaping wound; half his body was saturated with blood. The entire room reeked of iron and rot.

Outside, someone was hammering against the door panels with all their strength, causing Luo Shichuan’s body to keep jolting. Lin Sui’an snapped back into focus and checked herself swiftly: hands, clothing, shoes — all clean, no blood. Then she swept her gaze rapidly around the room.

Every window was shut, the lattice frames intact, the window paper unbroken. The room’s furnishings were tidy, with no signs of struggle. The ceiling showed no obvious damage; the bed canopy was drawn up high, revealing the sleeping platform within — quilt folded neatly, a black garment hanging from the clothes rack, the blue-brick floor gleaming faintly. Apart from that ring of bloodstains, not a drop of blood anywhere else. Most critically, the door behind Luo Shichuan’s body was barred on the inside by a bolt as thick as a man’s wrist, now rattling violently at each blow from outside — and then, with a crack, it broke apart. The door was shoved violently open; Luo Shichuan’s body toppled sideways to the ground.

Sunlight, heavy with moisture and the fragrance of flowers, poured into the room. In the doorway stood Meng Man, followed by seven or eight servants and one middle-aged man in a black silk robe. Every expression in the crowd was dark and unreadable.

Lin Sui’an swayed heavily. She understood now — a sealed room, a corpse, and the only suspect standing at the scene. This world of theirs was, of all things, a real-life locked-room murder mystery.