The moonlight fell softly upon Qi Yuansheng’s face, beautiful as a woman’s, washing his complexion white as frost and snow.

“How do you know about Xiu’er—” He paused, then added, “So he came after all.”

Unhurried footsteps sounded from behind. Lin Sui’an’s heart stirred; from the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of petal-like robes rising in the night wind as Hua Yitang stepped forward to stand beside her, three scroll-books in hand.

“On the third day of the first month of the first year of Xuanfeng, Qi Sheng and his son filed a report with the authorities: their daughter Qi Yuan had gone missing at the market. She was eight years old. The constables searched for a month and found no trace of her. Case closed.” Hua Yitang raised the first scroll. “Qi Sheng’s wife had died young, leaving behind a son and a daughter. The family was destitute and made their living copying books. After Xiu’er vanished, Qi Sheng dragged his ailing body in search of his daughter but found nothing, and died in despondent grief. As for Qi Sheng’s son — he simply disappeared.”

The corners of Qi Yuansheng’s mouth curved slightly, as if encouraging Hua Yitang to continue.

Hua Yitang raised the second scroll. “This I found at the grave record shop in Dongchao. Its contents are unremarkable — miscellaneous travel writings — with no author’s name, but the calligraphy is exceptional. It bears Chen Zhu’s annotations; Chen Zhu addressed the author as ‘Teacher.'”

Qi Yuansheng’s eyes shifted ever so slightly, yet he still said nothing.

Hua Yitang held both scrolls up together. “The handwriting on the case closure document bearing Qi Sheng’s signature is identical to the handwriting in the miscellaneous writings. I recall that in his youth, Chen Zhu once studied calligraphy under a xiucai. Chen Zhu was Qi Sheng’s student.”

Qi Yuansheng let out a quiet, drawn-out sigh.

Hua Yitang raised the third scroll. “This one was found at the Juanyu Teahouse, the one Chen Zhu frequented.” He unrolled it with a flourish and held it open for Qi Yuansheng to see. “Written within is the content of the Ten Tortures. The handwriting matches Chen Zhu’s exactly.”

Lin Sui’an was greatly startled and quickly cast her eyes over it. Sure enough — this was the very scroll she had seen in the memories of both Chen Zhu and Dongchao. So it had been Chen Zhu who wrote it.

“The vulgar poem about the Feng family — its point of origin was also traced to the teahouse.” Hua Yitang said. “Qi Yuansheng, all of this was done at your instruction!”

Qi Yuansheng tilted his head slightly back, his brow bathed in moonlight. “And? What else?”

“You bided your time for four years, laying careful plans. First, you used that vulgar poem to draw the Feng family’s attention onto me, using me as a shield. Then you successively killed Yan He and Jiang Hongwen — partly for revenge, and partly to draw me into the web through a series of murders, inflaming the conflict between the Hua and Feng families. You used the Hua family to investigate and uncover the evidence of the imperial examination fraud, toppling the Feng family in one decisive blow. Then, taking advantage of the Hua family’s move to absorb the Feng family’s holdings, you drew out the White Livestock Case that the Feng family had concealed for years. The meticulous mind behind it, the thoroughness of the plan — it is truly astounding.”

Qi Yuansheng said: “Oh? And why would I do all of this?”

Hua Yitang drew a fourth scroll from within his robes. “This is evidence that you changed your household registration before taking up your post at the Yangdu Prefecture Office. And evidence that you used your position as a clerk to launder Dongchao’s identity and purchase the grave record shop and the derelict buildings surrounding it. Your original name was Qi Yong. Qi Sheng was your father. Qi Yuan was your sister. Everything you did — was to avenge your sister and your father.”

Qi Yuansheng nodded. “Hua Yitang, you are indeed clever — even cleverer than I had imagined. Had you not traced things back to me so swiftly before, I would not have been forced to play my final card and activate Dongchao. Dongchao need not have died.”

“And what of Chen Zhu?!” Hua Yitang’s voice turned sharp. “He helped you all along — why did you have to kill him?!”

“Because he was too naive. He actually harbored the absurd hope of avoiding bloodshed and death — imagining that a single wretched poem and one copied scroll of the Ten Tortures could frighten the Feng family. He nearly ruined everything.” Qi Yuansheng sighed. “He had spent too long at your side. Your naivety rubbed off on him.”

Lin Sui’an could not help glancing at Hua Yitang. She could see the veins standing out along his neck — he was clearly suppressing his fury with great effort.

“Since you are so clever, I have a question for you: why did I kill Zhou Changping?” Qi Yuansheng said.

Hua Yitang drew a breath. “Governor Zhou had long been under the Feng family’s thumb. Wanting to break free of them, he became useful to you. Dongchao — you and he conspired to silence him under cover of the chaos, didn’t you?”

“He didn’t know Dongchao was my man, nor did he know what I was truly after.” Qi Yuansheng shook his head. “He killed Dongchao simply to curry favor with both the Feng and Hua families. Sometimes, there is simply no predicting the manner of stupidity a petty schemer will commit.” He paused. “But that is not why I killed him.”

Hua Yitang closed his eyes for a moment. “The first case of a young girl going missing was in the twelfth year of Xuanqi. Qi Yuan disappeared two years later. In the years before that, eighty-six young girls had already vanished. Every record states—”

“…the constables searched for a month and found no trace. Case closed.” Lin Sui’an murmured.

A red light rose in Hua Yitang’s eyes. “Zhou Changping bore the charge of Governor of Yangdu, responsible for the lives and safety of six hundred thousand of its people. Yet he occupied his post without performing his duties — incompetent and negligent. He was the very source from which ten thousand evils sprang. Ten thousand deaths could not atone for his crimes.”

“When the authorities have neither virtue nor integrity nor will to act, the common people cannot voice their grievances, cannot ease their fury, cannot give voice to their sorrow. Ants driven to the edge of the abyss can only fight back with everything they have.” Qi Yuansheng revealed a desolate smile, turning his gaze toward the dazzling lights of Yangdu spread below the mountain. “Like me. Like Dongchao. The only path left was blood for blood, life for life. I had no choice.”

“That is not true!” Hua Yitang’s eyes burned red. He spoke in a steady, resolute voice. “There must have been another way.”

Qi Yuansheng turned back, his gaze traveling across to Lin Sui’an. “Lin Niangzi, you still have not told me — how did you know her milk name was Xiu’er?”

The night wind sent Qi Yuansheng’s robes billowing wildly, like the great white wings of a butterfly about to take flight.

He was standing far too close to the cliff’s edge.

Lin Sui’an’s heart pounded. She moved forward without drawing attention to herself. “I saw her in a dream. She was holding a bowl of rice cake, saying she wanted to give it to her brother. She also said that watching her brother smile was what she loved most.”

A flicker of disorientation passed through Qi Yuansheng’s eyes. He let out a soft laugh — and that smile was just as she had seen it in Xiu’er’s memory, beautiful as a painting.

“I can no longer remember clearly,” he said. “Perhaps what you say is true.”

The wind suddenly surged. Qi Yuansheng was swept off his feet and plummeted over the cliff’s edge. In that split second, Lin Sui’an lunged forward in a single stride and leapt out over the precipice. Her left hand seized Qi Yuansheng’s arm in an iron grip; her right hand drove Qian Jing, still in its sheath, hard into the cliff face. But she had forgotten about the fracture in her right hand — it simply could not bear the weight of two people. She held on for the span of a single breath before her right hand began to slip from the hilt.

Then, without warning, a thick rope of rough hemp came swinging down. In two swift loops it bound itself around Lin Sui’an’s waist. She looked up, and to her astonishment, she saw Ling Zhiyan and Hua Yitang hauling on the rope together, side by side — their handsome faces both flushed crimson from the exertion.

Hua Yitang: “Ling the Sixth, you arrived too late!”

Ling Zhiyan: “Hua the Fourth, next time you leave a message, could you make it a little less roundabout?”

“I even drew you a map — are you blind?”

“You didn’t make the time clear!”

“Obviously you were supposed to set out immediately!”

“Both of you, shut up and pull!” Lin Sui’an bellowed.

The two scions of great clans immediately fell silent and hauled on the rope with all their might. Lin Sui’an was drenched in sweat from the pain, her entire body drained of strength. What was most infuriating of all was that Qi Yuansheng, hanging below her, actually burst out laughing.

“Lin Sui’an, you truly are a strange person. Why is it that you can always guess what I am about to do? It was the same when you went looking for the source of the Ten Tortures, and it is the same now.”

Because the cliff-jumping scene is such a tired old cliché!

Lin Sui’an gritted her teeth. “Your enemy Feng Yuyi is still alive. Are you really willing to die like this, before settling things with him?”

Qi Yuansheng tilted his face upward, his smile widening. “Of course I have not forgotten about him.”

“Then come back with me! We will see that justice is done for you!”

Qi Yuansheng shook his head. His other hand strained upward and, one by one, pried Lin Sui’an’s fingers apart.

Lin Sui’an: !!!

“I do not trust you.” Qi Yuansheng’s voice and smiling face sank into the dense night mist, leaving behind only a sweep of desolate, snow-white emptiness.

Facing the fury of Doctor Yue, Lin Sui’an discovered for the first time that when a beautiful person flew into a rage, the result was not pleasing to behold at all — it was, in fact, rather frightening.

“Are you deaf, or are you stupid? Can you not remember a single thing I have told you?!” Doctor Yue roughly changed the splint on Lin Sui’an’s right arm. The pain made Lin Sui’an hiss through her teeth. “I will say this one more time: this arm of yours must not be put under any strain whatsoever for the next month! If you do something reckless again, this arm will be ruined for good!”

Lin Sui’an said: “Doctor Yue, you have been saying that for three days now.”

“Am I wrong?!”

“You are right, you are right, absolutely right! I promise I will strictly follow medical instructions next time!” Lin Sui’an bobbed her head up and down repeatedly.

“My reputation as Yue Luo will sooner or later be ruined by your hands.” Doctor Yue gave a heavy sigh, then cradled Lin Sui’an’s left hand and examined it. “Is the right hand still the same?”

“Yes.”

Doctor Yue clicked her tongue, turned her head, and began writing out a prescription. “I will prescribe you a decoction to calm the heart and clear heat. Let us try that first.”

“Thank you, Doctor Yue.” Lin Sui’an looked down at her gently trembling left hand. Since returning from Poppy Mountain three days ago, it had remained in this trembling state — completely unable to muster any strength. The sensation of Qi Yuansheng’s palm, the warmth of it, seemed to linger there still. Lin Sui’an sighed inwardly. In the end, she had not been able to save him.

“I am going to look in on Hua the Fourth,” said Doctor Yue, lifting her medicine case. “Will you come along?”

Lin Sui’an nodded and rose to her feet. “Of course.”

The garden where Hua Yitang resided lay in the southeastern part of the Hua estate, a walk of two cups of tea’s time from Lin Sui’an’s own quarters — and this was already the shortest distance between any two gardens on the estate. Once through the garden’s main gate, one followed the covered corridor past Lotus Pond, Boat-Drifting Lake, the Rainbow Bridge cluster, the Maple-Viewing Grove, and the Moon-Listening Pavilion, among other scenic spots, before finally arriving at Hua Yitang’s residence, “The Tranquil Retreat” — a walk of roughly half an hour. The first time Lin Sui’an had come, she’d had the distinct impression of strolling through a public park. To put it plainly and without exaggeration: if one didn’t eat a proper meal beforehand, one wouldn’t have enough energy left to walk back and sleep.

The scene before the Tranquil Retreat was the same as always. Mu Xia led a host of serving maids and attendants waiting outside the door. Everywhere the eye fell, there were heads — bearing exquisite pastries and savory dishes, freshly brewed tea, chilled cold drinks, a dozen cricket jars, seven or eight golden canary cages, five or six tanks of golden carp. Today, there were even two fighting roosters added to the collection. In short, every manner of food, drink, and entertainment was on offer. Anything one could think of, they had brought; anything they hadn’t thought of, they simply hadn’t been asked for yet.

Doctor Yue rolled her eyes and pushed through the crowd. Lin Sui’an murmured her amazement — goodness, these offerings were refreshed day after day, each time something new; it was a thorough demonstration of how extravagantly indulgent the upper classes of this wicked feudal society truly were.

When Mu Xia caught sight of the two of them, she let out a heavy sigh.

Doctor Yue: “How is he today?”

Mu Xia: “From the hour of si until now, only two steamer baskets of steamed buns have been sent in, along with half a pot of tea, two platters of sliced raw fish, and three bowls of chicken soup. The Frost-and-Snow Drink came back untouched — not a single sip.”

Lin Sui’an glanced at the sky. It had barely just passed the midpoint of the si hour. Hua Yitang had already eaten that much — wasn’t he worried about indigestion?

Doctor Yue: “He is indeed eating far too little.”

Lin Sui’an nearly threw out her back.

Mu Xia: “I brought all of the Fourth Young Master’s favorite pastimes and amusements, but he would not even spare them a glance. He won’t let us come in to attend to him either. The Fourth Young Master has not bathed in three days, and he has even stopped wearing his sachet. What are we to do!”

Hua Yitang — someone who so adored making himself fragrant and beautiful — had actually stopped wearing his sachet?

“The situation is indeed very serious.” Lin Sui’an said gravely.

Doctor Yue pressed her ear against the outside of the door and listened for a moment, then shook her head. “This is beyond my ability to treat. You will need to find a more capable healer.”

Mu Xia’s face crumpled like the skin of an orange. “Lin Niangzi, what on earth happened to all of you on Poppy Mountain that day? Why did the Fourth Young Master come back like this? It has been a very long time since he has been this—” Mu Xia paused, then said, “Lin Niangzi, is there anything you can do?”

Lin Sui’an looked at her own gently trembling left hand and sighed: the root cause of her ailment and Hua Yitang’s was, most likely, one and the same.

Lin Sui’an gestured for everyone to step back two paces. Under the puzzled gazes of the crowd, she kicked open Hua Yitang’s door with one foot, walked straight inside, and then — to a chorus of sharp intakes of breath — kicked the door shut behind her with her foot.

The room was astonishingly large. The outer chamber alone measured some five hundred square feet. The rows of windows on the east and west were shut tight, the daylight filtered into fragments by the carved latticework and scattered in lonely patches across the floor.

Hua Yitang sat before a six-paneled landscape screen, barefoot, wearing only a thin, round-collared long robe. He had not even put in a hairpin — his hair was loosely gathered with nothing but a coarse ribbon. His body was hunched, his neck bowed as he stared at the three scroll-books spread open on the table.

Lin Sui’an slipped off her shoes, grabbed a soft cushion and gave it a pat, then sat down across from Hua Yitang. The scroll-books were ones she recognized — the contents Hua Yitang had presented to Qi Yuansheng on Poppy Mountain. One was the text of the Ten Tortures that Chen Zhu had copied; one was the case file on Qi Yuan; and one was the miscellaneous travel writings that Qi Yuan’s father had composed.

Hua Yitang still held a scroll in his hands, his fingernails picking and picking at the binding cord.

Lin Sui’an drew a breath, wanting to say something, but she was never one for easy conversation — half-introverted as she was, she struggled to chat. She searched her mind and found no suitable words, and could only conclude with a sigh.

Hua Yitang’s lashes trembled slightly. He set the scroll down on the table with both hands, and after a long silence, said: “I never actually found evidence that Qi Yuansheng had changed the household registrations for himself and Dongchao.” He untied the binding cord on the scroll and pulled it open. Inside, it was entirely blank. “Qi Yuansheng had done it perfectly. He left no trace whatsoever. The evidence I spoke of — I fabricated it all to trap him.”

Lin Sui’an’s eyes went wide.

“If I had not laid that trap for him — if I had not pressed him so hard into a corner — he would never have chosen a dead-end path.”

Lin Sui’an was silent for a moment. Then she placed her trembling left hand before Hua Yitang’s eyes. He jerked his gaze up sharply. “What happened to your hand?”

“It has been trembling without stop. Unable to muster any strength.” Lin Sui’an tried to clench her fist and failed once again. “Because a bright and living life vanished from within this very hand.”

“That is not your fault! I saw it — it was Qi Yuansheng himself who pried your fingers apart!” At those words, Hua Yitang’s voice caught involuntarily.

Lin Sui’an spread all five fingers wide, as if offering comfort to Hua Yitang, or perhaps speaking to herself: “He was so clever — clever enough to bring down the all-powerful Feng family, clever enough to use the Hua family to his fullest advantage. How could a word or two from you have truly deceived him?” Lin Sui’an curled her fingers again, and this time, she finally managed to close them into a fist, the trembling stilling at last. “In truth, he had long since calculated his own ending.”

Hua Yitang stared at Lin Sui’an’s hand, his lashes trembling faintly.

Lin Sui’an said: “Qi Yuansheng’s suffering was so grievous that it is only natural to pity him and rage on his behalf. Yet there is also innocent blood on his hands.”

Hua Yitang murmured quietly: “…Chen Zhu…”

“Yan He and Jiang Hongwen deserved their deaths without question. But in the moment Qi Yuansheng raised his blade and killed Chen Zhu, he became a murderer no different from Feng Yuyi.” Lin Sui’an said softly. “That is the greatest tragedy of all.”

The room fell quiet. The window panels rattled softly — the wind had picked up outside.

Hua Yitang rose to his feet, walked barefoot to the window, and pushed it open. Golden leaves were tossed up by the wind, swirling as they fell into his palm — and before he could catch them, they flew away again.

Hua Yitang looked up at the branches and leaves for a long while, then turned around. His eyes shone bright as stars.

“What do you want to eat? My treat.”

Lin Sui’an stretched out flat on the cushion. “No need. I just had breakfast. I’m worried about indigestion.”

And so this case is officially closed — let the petals fly!

The loose ends that remain will continue to be revealed in chapters to come.

The greatest challenge of this story arc was: Qi Yuansheng.

He is a truly extraordinary character — from the moment he appeared on the page, he swiftly slipped beyond my control (weeps), his intellect soaring far past what I had originally planned (sobs harder), and all I can say is, characters have minds of their own (wipes tears).

The title of this arc is “A Young Man’s Parting Is Never Light,” taken from “To My Younger Sister” by Wang Anshi of the Song Dynasty — it speaks primarily of the bond between siblings.

The poem in full:

A young man’s parting is never light, And meeting again in old age stirs sorrow too. Over a humble table of cups and dishes we laugh and talk, While by the dim lamplight we speak of a lifetime. I lament that the lakes and seas have kept us apart these three years, And now I set out again for ten thousand li of dust and sand. When I ask of a date for our next meeting, I send word by letter as the wild geese fly south.