It lasted only an instant, and then the image was gone.

Lin Sui’an’s expression changed dramatically. What had that been just now? It felt very similar to the memory image from the original owner — but she hadn’t brought the bronze mirror with her, so it definitely hadn’t been triggered by the mirror. And moreover… it didn’t seem to be the original owner’s memory.

Lin Sui’an remembered the pattern on the tea bowl. Those were Luo Shichuan’s tea implements.

Could this have been Luo Shichuan’s memory?

Lin Sui’an was alarmed. Why would she be receiving Luo Shichuan’s memories? A side effect of transmigration?

No — calm down. There had to be something in common between the two instances. If she found the connection, she could find the key that triggered these visions.

In her momentary distraction, Zhu Dachang had clearly grown restless. Lin Sui’an pressed her fingers tighter without ceremony; Zhu Dachang’s eyes went wide as an ox’s and he wheezed helplessly, “I was — I was just a little short of breath—”

Lin Sui’an reached her conclusion in an instant: eyes.

Both times the vision had appeared, she had first looked into a pair of eyes. The first time had been her own eyes in the bronze mirror — more precisely, the original host’s dead body’s eyes. The second time had been the eyes of Luo Shichuan’s corpse.

Could it be that she only needed to look into a corpse’s eyes to see a fragment of that corpse’s memories?!

What a bizarre golden finger to have. And not exactly auspicious.

What made it even worse was that the visions were so perplexingly obscure — completely useless!

While Lin Sui’an’s inner world reeled with turmoil, the coroner’s examination continued without interruption. Those dry, skeletal fingers moved over the mouth, tongue, chin, and throat. The voice came like a rusted saw dragged across the lid of a coffin. “Mouth closed. Tongue not pressing against teeth. Chin and throat undamaged.” The fingers moved to the chest; he cut open the garment. “Left chest, half a cun below the second rib at the vital point — stabbed — cloth torn — heavy bleeding.” He pressed a finger against the wound and examined for a moment, then continued: “Wound length one cun, width three points, depth four cun and one fen. Wound track oblique, penetrating the inner membrane. Wound width broad, with cross-hatched markings extending outward. Blood fluid present. The lips of the wound have multiple colored blooms of bruising, with residue of black grit.”

Good lord. Lin Sui’an felt very strongly at this moment that she would very much like to throw herself into a river. She had essentially not understood a single one of the specialist terms the coroner had just used.

And it wasn’t only her — Zhu Dachang, an actual county adjutant, appeared to have been equally lost, and hissed over at one of his constables: “Who is this coroner? Where’s Coroner Li?”

The constable broke out in a cold sweat. “A new hire, surname Ding. Old Li went home to visit family — this fellow came to fill in.”

Zhu Dachang: “You’re trying to be the death of me!”

“The work’s too grimy — no one wants to do it. At least we got someone.”

“…”

Coroner Ding seemed entirely oblivious, methodically rolling the body over and continuing the examination: back, rear skull, shoulder blades, left side, right side, armpits, both legs, feet, the soles of the feet, the toes. When all had been examined, he took out a white cloth from his case, covered Luo Shichuan’s body, collected his tools, lit a fire in a small basin and burned the paper charms the paperweight had held, then poured vinegar over the flames, stepped twice over the basin, rinsed his hands thoroughly with soapwort, and stood quietly to one side.

“What is the cause of death?” Lin Sui’an asked.

Coroner Ding: “A blade instrument pierced the chest — this should be… the fatal wound.”

“What weapon was used?”

“The weapon was four cun and three fen long, three points thick, half a cun wide, iron construction.” The coroner thought for a moment, glanced back at the tea implements on the low table. “Estimated weapon: the fire tongs.”

Fire tongs? Lin Sui’an swept her gaze quickly — she remembered now. The tongs Luo Shichuan had used to grip the tea coals were missing. Those tongs were the weapon?!

“Whose are the bloody footprints on the floor?”

Coroner Ding: “Left by the deceased.”

So Luo Shichuan had been stabbed near the low table, then walked — bleeding — to the door. Trying to call for help?

“Time of death?”

“Between the first hour of Hai and the second hour of Zi.”

In other words, between approximately nine o’clock at night and one o’clock in the morning. Sure enough, Luo Shichuan had still been alive when she arrived — if only she had been more careful, she might have been able to save him…

Lin Sui’an’s chest felt heavy. She drew a deep breath.

He is gone. Catching the killer is what matters now.

After a pause, Coroner Ding raised his cloudy eyes — it was unclear whether he was looking at Lin Sui’an or at Zhu Dachang — and said: “Initial examination has raised doubt. Request permission to perform an internal examination.”

Zhu Dachang: “What?!”

Luo Kou and Meng Man both cried out: “What did you say?!”

In any era, it seemed, the dissection of a body was too cruel a blow for the family to endure.

Lin Sui’an calmly pressed one finger harder against Zhu Dachang’s neck; Zhu Dachang’s voice shot up eight tones. “Granted!”

Luo Kou fainted in Meng Man’s arms. Meng Man glared at Lin Sui’an with a flash of resentment as he carried Luo Kou away in haste.

Four constables stepped carefully onto the grass mat and carried away Luo Shichuan’s body. Coroner Ding followed. The cartographer had by now finished the furniture and layout diagram — quite detailed, with the orientations of the doors and windows, the bed canopy, and the bed platform all clearly marked, and even the positions of the tea implements on the low table labeled. From the diagram, Lin Sui’an learned for the first time that the grinding-stone object was called a tea mill, the box with the small drawer was a tea sifter, and the little earthen stove was indeed called a furnace.

Zhu Dachang swallowed. “Hero — any further instructions?”

Lin Sui’an folded the layout diagram single-handed and tucked it into her front. She reversed her grip on Qian Jing and pressed the flat of the blade against Zhu Dachang’s carotid artery. Zhu Dachang let out a yelp and nearly passed out on the spot.

Two constables changed color dramatically. “Stop!”

Mu Zhong: “Girl — killing a court official is a capital offense!”

Lin Sui’an pressed the blade flat against Zhu Dachang’s throat and backed slowly until she stood before the screen, roughly a zhang from the doors and windows — a comfortable buffer distance, she estimated. She spoke loudly: “Constables — come inside. Check the windows, the roof beams, the floor, and the ceiling.”

The two constables looked at each other in puzzlement, glanced at Mu Zhong. Mu Zhong nodded. Only then did the constables enter the room and swiftly examine every window, beam, and ceiling panel. The look they turned on Lin Sui’an afterward was fiercer than ever.

Lin Sui’an steadied herself inwardly. Zhu Dachang and the constables were deferring to this man completely — Mu Zhong’s background was clearly not simple. If she wanted to clear herself of the murder suspicion, he might be a key to breaking through.

“What did you find?” Mu Zhong asked.

The constables reported back:

“No footprints from anyone else on the floor.”

“All windows sealed from the inside. Lattice frames intact, window paper unbroken.”

“Thick undisturbed dust on the roof beams — no sign of anyone stepping on them.”

“Ceiling intact and undamaged. Roof tiles show no sign of displacement.”

Mu Zhong glanced at Lin Sui’an.

“Has the craftsman who built this room arrived yet?!”

“Here, here—” a small old man stuck half a head through the door. “This room was built twenty years ago — I have the building plans here.”

“Does this room have any hidden chambers or secret passages?”

“No, no — Master Luo was an upright man, he had no liking for such things.”

The bottom dropped out of Lin Sui’an’s heart a little further.

Could this truly be an airtight sealed room with no solution?

Mu Zhong smiled. “You’re the one who killed him, aren’t you?”

This mountain-beard was insufferable.

Lin Sui’an’s patience was fraying. She shifted the blade, nearly grazing Zhu Dachang’s throat.

Zhu Dachang was sweating in rivers down his neck. “I — I — I — I believe the hero is absolutely not — not — not — not a person of murderous disposition.”

“If the sealed room has no exit—” Lin Sui’an’s gaze dropped to the door bolt on the floor — “then the only entrance is also the exit.”

Mu Zhong followed her gaze, his expression shifting. He picked up the two halves of the door bolt from the blood pool and held them together to examine them, then shook his head. “Yes, it was genuinely broken by force.”

“I saw that. It was broken by impact.” Lin Sui’an said.

Mu Zhong’s cheek twitched.

“Are there any particular grooves or scratches on it?”

“Door bolts naturally have scratches all over them—” Mu Zhong muttered, but ran his fingers all the way along the bolt anyway. “There actually are!” He held up half the bolt for the two constables behind him to see. “On the square-cut edges — small grooves. As though deliberately ground there.”

The constables: “Oh oh oh.”

Mu Zhong’s eyes lit up. “Do you have a hemp rope?”

A constable quickly untied a length of leg-binding hemp rope and passed it over. Mu Zhong fitted the rope into the groove, wound it twice — a perfect fit.

“Now look at the door panels around the edges,” Lin Sui’an said.

The two constables pressed themselves against the door panels and searched meticulously. Mu Zhong, more forcefully, simply tore both panels off their hinges entirely. The three of them felt every inch of both sides; then one constable suddenly let out a shout: “There is blood here!” He pointed to the top edge of the right panel. “And a groove.”

Mu Zhong leaned in and ran his finger over it. He turned, his expression filled with astonishment. “Girl — how did you know?!”

Zhu Dachang: “What groove?”

Lin Sui’an released a breath. “Thank you, Conan.”

Zhu Dachang: “What Conan?”

Mu Zhong’s expression still held a shade of disbelief. He rose, pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his hands, and said: “Girl — if you can explain this sealed room clearly, I will provisionally accept that you are not the killer.”

“This is a very simple mechanism,” Lin Sui’an said, laying the door panels and bolt pieces out on the floor and demonstrating as she explained: “The killer first fitted a hemp rope into the groove without tying a knot, then placed the bolt in its resting position. The killer pulled the two rope ends up through the groove at the top of the door panel, exited the room, pulled the door shut — even if the panel and frame were flush, the rope would not be pinched. Then, from outside, the killer slowly pulled the rope taut to slide the bolt into place, and finally withdrew the rope. The entire sealed room was complete.”

Mu Zhong ran his finger over the groove. “Not ground — cut. And there’s blood on it. Probably made with the fire tongs.”

Zhu Dachang: “Where did the rope come from?”

Lin Sui’an: “Materials were at hand. Luo Shichuan had a great deal of fine hide cord at the bottom of his bookshelf for repairing ancient texts — stronger than hemp rope.”

A constable: “Heavens above!”

Mu Zhong: “Who is the killer?”

Lin Sui’an cut him a glance. Did he take her for Conan? Or Kindaichi? Pointing a finger and calling on her grandfather’s name as the solution materialized out of thin air?

“Are there any footprints outside the door?” she asked.

Mu Zhong: “Heavy rain fell in the fourth watch last night. The ground was smooth when I arrived — not a footprint.”

Lin Sui’an: “…”

It had rained last night? She had no memory of it at all — she had presumably been unconscious by then.

“So the killer committed the crime before the rain, and the rain conveniently erased all footprints and traces.” Lin Sui’an murmured.

“Master Mu—” Zhu Dachang asked quietly, “This young woman truly isn’t the killer? We truly don’t need to take her to jail?”

Mu Zhong glanced at Zhu Dachang. “With just the few of you — could you even take her?”

Zhu Dachang rubbed his neck with residual apprehension, then lowered his voice a few more degrees: “But we still have you, Master Mu!”

Mu Zhong: “Where is the county magistrate of Nanpu County? Luo Shichuan was at least a notable household in Nanpu County — the master of the family has died under murky circumstances, and yet the magistrate doesn’t even make an appearance?”

Zhu Dachang pulled a pained face. “The previous magistrate retired to his home village; the new one hasn’t arrived yet. There’s only me and the administrative adjutant Zhang holding things together — and Master Mu, you know how it is, the administrative adjutant has always outranked the judicial adjutant, and Adjutant Zhang has always been at odds with me. And now on top of all that this bizarre murder case comes up. Master Mu, you absolutely must help me catch the true killer — otherwise my only option is to resign and go home and grow cabbages.”

The constables also scrambled in: “When Master Mu served as constable commander in Xintong County he cracked case after brilliant case — those legendary exploits are still widely talked about among us constables. For such a small case as this, it would be no trouble at all for you.”

So this mountain-beard had once served as constable commander and was a celebrated solver of cases. No wonder both the pig-intestine adjutant and the constables hung on his every word. Lin Sui’an had finally heard something useful and thought: looks like I made the right bet after all.

Yet Mu Zhong shook his head. “I resigned from the post of constable commander over ten years ago. And even at that time, the credit was not mine alone — I had the help of a distinguished personage.”

Zhu Dachang’s eyes lit up. “Might it be possible to invite that distinguished personage—”

Mu Zhong burst out laughing. “Him? Far too busy. No time.”

“Then I resign!” Zhu Dachang buried his face in his hands.

“If you want to solve a case, why look far when you have someone right here?” Mu Zhong said, and paused. “I have not yet asked how I should address the young lady.”

“Lin Sui’an.” Lin Sui’an waved her hands quickly. “I don’t know how to solve cases.”

Mu Zhong: “Until the true killer is caught, you will remain a suspect.”

Lin Sui’an’s eyelid twitched. “Solving cases is something that should properly fall to the authorities…”

She couldn’t quite finish that sentence with any conviction. Several hefty constables were staring at her with big hopeful eyes; Zhu Dachang’s bovine gaze shimmered with the starlight of desperate expectation.

Lin Sui’an felt a small flicker of vanity.

Sure enough — transmigrators really do have a certain protagonist’s glow.

Lin Sui’an cleared her throat. “First — gather all the Luo family members and all the household servants and verify their alibis.”

No one said anything. Everyone looked surprised.

Lin Sui’an assumed they didn’t understand the phrase “verify alibis” and explained further: “Ask them where they were and what they were doing last night between nine o’clock — Hai initial — and the second hour of Zi, and whether anyone can confirm their whereabouts.”

“Why ask the Luo family members?” a constable asked.

“I recall they don’t reside in Yanren Ward — they live in the Eastern Rear Ward,” Zhu Dachang added.

Lin Sui’an: “Hm?”

Mu Zhong: “After the night curfew begins, the ward gates are closed. The other Luo family members couldn’t even get in, could they?”

Lin Sui’an: “…”

The protagonist’s glow, barely assembled, was punctured by the needle of “no common knowledge” and deflated with a hiss.