Lin Sui’an had half her body sheltered behind an old scholar tree, so stunned that her hands and feet had gone numb. She wasn’t sure if Ling Zhiyan had eaten something bad — perhaps a sudden stomach illness — or whether it was something else entirely. She peered out for a look. Ling Zhiyan seemed to have already brought up everything in his stomach, and was now dry-heaving acid. From this angle, she could see that the corners of his eyes were scarlet, with traces of moisture within. His expression was suppressed and pained.

Lin Sui’an thought grimly: could this be psychosomatic vomiting?

Footsteps drew near. The iris-petal sleeves of Hua Yitang’s robes drifted to her side, and he said quietly:

“Four years ago, there was a series of home invasion murders and robberies in the Eastern Capital. The killer’s methods were extremely brutal. Within three months, seven households were slaughtered, none left alive. For a time, the Eastern Capital was gripped by panic and awash in rumors. The Court of Judicial Review was ordered to crack the case. After a month of tracking, they were convinced the suspect was a wandering outlaw, and laid an all-encompassing net to capture and kill him. But on the very night he was caught, yet another household was massacred — a family of four: the father, the mother, and the son all died. Only the thirteen-year-old daughter, hiding in a cellar, managed to escape.”

Lin Sui’an had a feeling that what came next was the real point. “And then?”

“With the young girl’s eyewitness testimony, the true culprit was quickly identified — not that wandering outlaw at all, but an unremarkable-looking butcher. On the day the true killer was beheaded, the girl didn’t appear. The Court of Judicial Review evaluator assigned to liaise with the girl — a junior official of the eighth grade, lower rank — felt something was off, and went to check on her at her home. He found the girl’s body.”

Lin Sui’an’s heart lurched.

“The girl had taken her own life, leaving a letter addressed to that Court of Judicial Review evaluator.”

Lin Sui’an: “…What did it say?”

Hua Yitang shook his head: “No one knows. All that is known is that afterward, that Court of Judicial Review evaluator fell gravely ill and suffered lasting effects. Day to day there is no obvious sign of it, but for unknown reasons, he sometimes suddenly and uncontrollably vomits, runs a low fever for days on end, and several times the situation became quite dangerous.”

“And that Court evaluator — could he be —” Lin Sui’an looked over. “Director Ling?”

Hua Yitang tapped his fan against his forehead, looking somewhat troubled. “Chen Yanfan said that they believe Sixth Young Master Ling cannot bear to deal with cases where the victims are young women, which is why he was barred from getting involved from the start.”

It is clearly post-traumatic stress disorder, Lin Sui’an thought — but then reconsidered, feeling something wasn’t right.

“If it were truly as Chief Justice Chen says, then Ling Liulang should have had an episode when the body was found in the Yunshui River, or when Fangke was conducting the autopsy.”

“I also feel what they’re saying is too much of a stretch. There must be hidden circumstances no one knows about.” Hua Yitang scoffed. “But that blockheaded Chen Yanfan is firmly convinced of this nonsensical theory. He pulled me aside and went on and on at length, insisting I look after his precious Sixth Young Master. Truly insufferable — living up to his name: Chen Fanfan, the maddening old bore.”

Lin Sui’an found this a little amusing. Hua Yitang’s mouth was full of complaints about what a nuisance this was, but his face was written over with genuine concern for Ling Zhiyan — a classic case of his mouth saying one thing and his heart meaning another.

Listening to the sounds Ling Zhiyan was making, it seemed to have reduced to dry heaving. The two of them stretched their necks from behind the tree to peer out, feeling rather at a loss.

Lin Sui’an: “Do you think it would be awkward if we went over there right now?”

Hua Yitang: “Why are you asking me? I’m not a roundworm living inside his stomach!”

“You’re both men — your thoughts should be similar naturally.”

“How could someone as clever and quick-witted as I be compared to that single-minded, stiff-as-a-block fellow?”

“Then please, clever and quick-witted Fourth Young Master, use that brilliant mind of yours to think — what on earth should we do right now? Are we just going to stand here watching him retch up bile?”

“I have something for vomiting.” A pale hand appeared out of nowhere, giving both of them such a fright that their hearts nearly leaped out of their mouths.

Fangke was holding a small white porcelain bottle, standing expressionlessly behind the two of them. The next instant, both Hua Yitang and Lin Sui’an shoved him with their combined efforts behind the scholar tree.

Hua Yitang raised a finger. “Shh —”

Fangke: “Sick? Treat it. Something to say? Say it. Need to pass wind? Pass it. What are you shushing for?”

Lin Sui’an: “Does this remedy for vomiting actually work?”

Fangke: “I modified it from Yi Ta’s tea formula.”

Hua Yitang snatched the porcelain bottle away. “Do you have a grudge against Ling Liulang?”

“I believe the effect will be exceptional.”

Lin Sui’an thought: I’ve fallen for your scheme!

The three of them were in the middle of squabbling when Lin Sui’an suddenly gave a start. From the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of a shadow behind them. She reached back, grabbed Hua Yitang’s collar, and flung him forward, while she herself dropped into a crouch behind the tree in one smooth motion.

Go, Fourth Young Master Hua!

Ling Zhiyan was standing three paces away, looking surprised.

Hua Yitang scrambled to stuff the porcelain bottle back into his sleeve, then shook his fan a couple of times with a nonchalant air, tilted his head, and began reciting: “Fragrant grasses stretch endless, willows fresh and green, petals fall — pfft, what a dreadful spot, not a single flower — ahem — fragrant grasses stretch endless, willows fresh and green, falling leaves drift like petals in flight. To think the Court of Judicial Review’s rear court would have scenery like this — ah, Sixth Young Master Ling, what a coincidence! Are you here to admire the weeds too?”

Ling Zhiyan’s color and lips were both somewhat pale. His bearing was still straight as a pine. His gaze paused a moment on Hua Yitang’s face, then shifted slightly to take in Lin Sui’an and Fangke.

Fangke wore a wooden expression and sidled behind Lin Sui’an.

Lin Sui’an grabbed a branch as cover for her face, feeling profound embarrassment: Hua Yitang, where did your usual talent for weaving nonsense go?! Why does it always fail at the critical moment?!

Ling Zhiyan lowered his eyes, pressed his lips together and gave the faintest smile. He cleared his throat. “Ling still has a few more questions for those three next of kin. Would the three of you be willing to accompany me?”

“Of course, of course!” Hua Yitang hooked his arm around Ling Zhiyan’s shoulder with the ease of old friends. “Once you’re done with the questions, let’s all go out for a stroll. There’s a Wang Family Food House in the Southern Market — their mutton soup bo tuo noodles are said to be quite famous. Your stomach is empty right now, and something warm and hearty is just what you need —”

Ling Zhiyan said helplessly: “Ling just needs something simple. Afterward I’d like to go back to the Records Hall to look over the files —”

“Those files have practically been worn through from all your flipping. If there were any clues, you’d have found them by now. As they say, even a capable person can’t solve an impossible problem — let’s go out for a walk. Who knows, maybe we’ll stumble upon some unexpected clue?”

Ling Zhiyan paused. “Does the Fourth Young Master mean —?”

“As they say, man proposes and heaven disposes. Hua has had a disposition of outstanding luck since birth — once I put my hand to something, there isn’t a case that can’t be broken! And furthermore, today we have Lin Niangzi and Doctor Fang assisting us — it’s like adding wings to a tiger!”

With that, Hua Yitang turned and winked at Lin Sui’an.

Lin Sui’an understood. Hua Yitang was referring to her golden ability. Though the two fragments of memory they’d obtained so far were both confusing, they shared one common thread: both were connected to marketplaces and crowds. Given the nature of Hua Yitang’s protagonist aura for stumbling onto things, perhaps going out to look for clues really was the optimal approach.

Lin Sui’an winked back at Hua Yitang.

Hua Yitang raised an eyebrow and winked again.

Lin Sui’an had no choice, and squeezed her eyelids in acknowledgment: Fine, I got it.

Hua Yitang was delighted, and happily strode off with Ling Zhiyan in tow.

Fangke stared at Lin Sui’an with an odd expression for a good while, then shook his head, let out a sigh, and walked away too. Vaguely, it seemed she could hear him quietly muttering to himself: “And yet she is the master of Qian Jing. To have such poor judgment…”

Lin Sui’an: Hah?

The Southern Market did indeed have a Wang Family Food House.

Entering through the Southern Market’s quarter gate, heading due east along the main street, turning a right angle at the crossroads intersection, you could see the Wang Family Food House’s signboard — red lacquer with gold characters, very impressive. Below the signboard hung a wide menu board, more than three feet across, listing the day’s offerings: mutton soup bo tuo noodles, light tall noodles, bi luo pastries, scallion plain noodles, and meat-stuffed steamed buns (mostly mutton filling, occasionally chicken or duck — almost never pork, which had absolutely no standing in this era). The foundation of the building sat high up, requiring five or six steps to reach the entrance. The door faced south, directly toward the Red Adornment Quarter. Seated in a private room on the second floor, one could see the courtyard of Fan Ba’s establishment with perfect clarity.

At the first quarter past noon, the ladies of Fan Ba’s had just risen, trailing their multi-colored gauze skirts as they drifted through the garden — like wisps of colored clouds floating past.

Unfortunately, other than Lin Sui’an, no one in the private room had the least interest in this pleasing sight.

Ling Zhiyan was deep in study of the next-of-kin witness statements he had just obtained. The bo tuo noodles in his bowl had already gone cold and congealed. Hua Yitang was the exact opposite — six empty bowls stacked in front of him, happily eating his seventh. Fangke had eaten half a bowl and started to doze, slumping against his large wooden case and drifting off. Lin Sui’an waved to the attendant who was peeking in from outside the door to come and clear the table, and at the same time ordered a fresh hot bowl to replace Ling Zhiyan’s cold noodles.

Ling Zhiyan didn’t even notice his noodles had been swapped. He gobbled down two bites absently. “Qu Si Niang and Feng Er Niang both had their bodies discovered in the waterways roughly ten days after going missing. Before their disappearances, both had gone out to purchase household goods. Qu Si Niang went to the Western Market; Feng Er Niang went to the Southern Market.”

Qu Si Niang was the blind woman — she lived in Guangli Quarter, next to the Western Market. Because her blindness made getting around difficult, she generally only went to the Western Market for daily necessities. Feng Er Niang was the female corpse discovered yesterday — she lived in Liren Quarter, near the Yongdun Gate. Like most of the Eastern Capital’s ordinary residents, she preferred to shop at the Southern Market.

“Well, there’s yet another common point.” Hua Yitang gave a satisfied belch and settled comfortably against the armrest, his layered and elaborate robes spreading out around him like a Samoyed sprawled in the sun to dry its fur. “All fifteen women’s last known whereabouts before their disappearances were at a marketplace. Eight went to the Southern Market, four went to the Northern Market, and one went to the Western Market.”

Ling Zhiyan: “Only Qu Si Niang went to the Western Market —”

Lin Sui’an: “The killer most likely drugged and abducted them at the marketplace, then brought them home and killed them.”

“None of their heads showed signs of being struck by external force or a hard object.” Fangke said with his eyes closed.

Hua Yitang: “Could it have been a knockout drug?”

Fangke: “Possibly. If they were held captive for several days before being killed, the drug would have long since metabolized. There would naturally be no way to detect it on the bodies.”

Ling Zhiyan: “The Eastern Capital has a curfew. All three market quarters open at the first watch of noon and close at the fourth watch of the hour of the Rooster. Starting at the first watch of the hour of the Dog, the quarter gates of each district begin to close in succession. In other words, the killer would have had to act in broad daylight, in full view of everyone — is that even possible?”

Lin Sui’an: “Have the Jingzhao Prefecture or the Court of Judicial Review ever received any reports of abductions in the streets?”

Ling Zhiyan shook his head. “All three market quarters are densely crowded areas. Once the market opens, the market supervisors’ constables patrol back and forth to maintain order. There has never been any report of such a brazen crime.”

Lin Sui’an had absolutely no faith in the market supervisors’ constables. She had seen them during the previous ambush — a bunch of useless drunks. But she did believe in the sharp eyes of ordinary people. If something truly abnormal had occurred, with so many passersby, someone would have noticed something amiss. But there had been no such reports, which meant the killer wasn’t using conventional methods to abduct people — but rather something far more covert and difficult to detect.

“Even if we racked our brains here, it wouldn’t help us figure out what special method the killer used to disguise their actions.” Hua Yitang sat up and pointed with his fan at the statement from Feng Er Niang’s mother. “Before Feng Er Niang disappeared, she wanted to have a new outfit made, and so was frequently visiting various fabric shops in the Southern Market to look at cloth. Perhaps we can start from there.”

Ling Zhiyan frowned. “Does the Fourth Young Master know how many fabric shops there are in the Southern Market?”

“We can just ask the market supervisors’ office, can’t we?” Hua Yitang said. “It would be best if we could get a map of the Southern Market’s quarter layout.”

Ling Zhiyan nodded and stood. “I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time, Sixth Young Master — we’ll wait here for your good news.” Hua Yitang cheerfully waved his fan in farewell as Ling Zhiyan’s silhouette disappeared into the crowd. Then he immediately rose and said to Lin Sui’an: “No time to waste — let’s go.”

Lin Sui’an glanced at Fangke. The red-robed coroner had his eyes closed and waved a dismissive hand. “Off you go. Don’t see you out.”

“Do you think Doctor Fang has already figured something out?” Lin Sui’an asked.

“Doctor Fang is a sharp mind. If we don’t tell him, he won’t ask. And if he doesn’t ask, we don’t need to tell him.” Hua Yitang smiled. “A mutual unspoken understanding.”

Lin Sui’an shrugged — neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

“Tell me what you saw in Feng Er Niang’s memory,” Hua Yitang said, “in more detail this time.”

To tell the truth, this was somewhat difficult for Lin Sui’an. The images had lasted only a few seconds, and putting them into words felt hopelessly inadequate. She could only give the same dry, sparse account once more.

“It was an overcast day. There were dark-colored eaves. The signboard was also dark, with yellow characters. It said something-something fabric shop — probably four characters — I think…”

Even Hua Yitang was somewhat stumped by such a vague description. He walked along, fan spinning rapidly, brow deeply furrowed, robes billowing in the wind. The noisy crowds swept past him on either side, leaving no impression whatsoever. Then suddenly, he stopped in his tracks, turned, and entered a stationery shop.

The stationery shop sold the four traditional scholar’s tools. Hua Yitang bypassed the standard brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones, and instead picked out a small lacquered black case, about two inches wide and four inches long — small enough to hold in one hand. Inside the case was a small ink bladder, a miniature brush only three inches long, and a roll of slightly yellowed paper. Lin Sui’an had seen this set of equipment before — it was the kind of portable writing kit used by Hu merchants traveling by camel, a sort of pocket-sized notebook for this era.

This time, Hua Yitang asked his questions in far more detail: “What was the approximate shape of the eave you saw? Were there any wind chimes hanging from it? Were there ridge-beasts? Was there moss on the roof tiles? What was the angle of the upturned eave? Roughly how large was the signboard? Was it fully black or dark blue-black? Was there a decorative border on the frame? Wheat-ear-shaped or striped? What style of calligraphy were the characters? Were they gold or yellow, or perhaps orange…?”

Guided by Hua Yitang’s leading questions, Lin Sui’an found her recollection of the image growing clearer and her description increasingly specific. Hua Yitang confirmed each detail as she spoke, adding and correcting as he went. By the tenth draft, some semblance of a picture had begun to emerge. Drawing on all the discarded drafts, he focused his full attention and produced the eleventh.

Lin Sui’an watched as the image under Hua Yitang’s pen gradually took shape, her mouth opening wider and wider.

Good lord — was this wastrel some kind of brainwave scanner? He had reproduced the golden ability’s image one-to-one with perfect fidelity! The level of detail was comparable to a black-and-white photograph — and he’d even gone to the trouble of noting the colors.

Hua Yitang set down his brush and dabbed the faint sweat from his temple with his sleeve cuff. “How is it — is it accurate?”

Lin Sui’an gave a big thumbs-up. “Fourth Young Master is mighty!”

Hua Yitang let out a breath of relief. “Then we need only follow this drawing to find the fabric shop —”

“Aiyo? Isn’t this the Zhu Hu Fabric Shop in the Guo Chun Alley of the Southern Market?”

A head materialized right beside the two of them, mouth chomping away on a fried sugar cake. A greasy fingerprint was stamped directly onto the drawing.

Hua Yitang: “Hey!”

Lin Sui’an’s palm flew out and landed on the back of the head. “Where in the world have you been?!”

Jin Ruo rubbed the back of his head, used his tongue to pick at the oil residue stuck in his gums, and grinned broadly. “See? They really can’t do without me!”