Lu Shouhuai had departed from the Court of Judicial Review’s prison at the Hour of the Goat that day. After bidding farewell to his family at the western city gate, he was to be escorted to the Huaikou Post Station some twenty-odd li away in the western outskirts. Around the end of the Hour of the Monkey, the first transfer acknowledgment report was to be sent back, confirming that the prisoner had officially set out on the road.

It was now the end of the Hour of the Rooster. The city gate had long since received that transfer acknowledgment report — yet Lu Shouhuai had been found dead on the road to Huaikou Post Station, a mere ten li from Shangjing.

The body, which had been transported back to the western outskirts, had mud and sand packed into its mouth and nostrils. The face was swollen, and both hands clutched tightly at grass and stones.

Xie Lanting needed only a single glance to understand: “Someone held his head down and drowned him in the river.”

Zhang Zhixu covered his mouth and nose with his sleeve, both startled and puzzled. “Who would go to such lengths against him?”

Xie Lanting’s gaze turned toward him, a thought forming on his lips — then stopping there.

Zhang Zhixu understood.

Though the conflict between the Zhang and Cheng families showed no outward signs, both Cheng Huaili and he harbored a deep wish for each other’s demise. Lu Shouhuai, as Cheng Huaili’s most trusted right-hand man, had met with this sudden calamity — making him, naturally, the prime suspect.

But he had been right under Xie Lanting’s watchful eye the entire time, with an airtight alibi.

Xie Lanting questioned the minor official: “At what hour was the transfer report sent out, and at what hour did it arrive at the city gate?”

The official answered: “It was dispatched on horseback from the post station at the end of the Hour of the Monkey, and arrived at the city gate half an hour later.”

Without another word, Xie Lanting turned his horse and rode straight back into the city.

Zhang Zhixu was not a man of the Court of Judicial Review, so naturally he could only follow along. But as his carriage trailed behind, something suddenly struck him as wrong.

Xie Lanting had ridden directly to the gate of Chen Baoxiang’s courtyard.

“Is your mistress home?” he asked the gatekeeper as he dismounted.

The gatekeeper rubbed his eyes and replied with a yawn: “She is — she hasn’t gone out at all.”

Xie Lanting swept inside with a lift of his robes, crossing the corridor and making his way through to the main room at the back, where he could already see from a distance that Chen Baoxiang was still brewing tea.

“Magistrate Xie?” She looked up, puzzled. “What brings you here in the dead of night?”

Striding quickly to her side, Xie Lanting swept his gaze over everything on the table.

When they had left, there had been ten tea cakes on Chen Baoxiang’s table. At the rate of one per half hour, only two or three should have remained.

But now, a full six tea cakes still sat on the table.

“Where did you go?” He fixed his eyes on the person behind the tea table and demanded in a cold voice.

Chen Baoxiang looked utterly baffled. “I haven’t gone anywhere. What’s the matter?”

“Is there anyone who can vouch for you?”

“Han Xiao, and the household servants — they’ve all seen me.” Chen Baoxiang frowned with displeasure. “Is Magistrate Xie interrogating me right now?”

Zhang Zhixu came up from behind and gave Xie Lanting a firm tug, eyeing him with a furrowed brow.

Xie Lanting stumbled a couple of steps, then managed a strained smile. “I was a little hasty, I admit. But if you had truly been here brewing tea this whole time, how could so many tea cakes still be left?”

“You mean these?” Chen Baoxiang held up a tea cake and said helplessly, “These are expensive — a hundred coins for just this little lump. Of course I have to use them sparingly.”

Zhang Zhixu spun around to glare at her upon hearing this. “I told you to use a whole piece when brewing, and you’ve gone and broken one in half again?”

“A little more or a little less, what’s the difference? Besides, if I used a whole piece every time, my daily expenses would be enormous.” Chen Baoxiang lamented, “What kind of fortune would a person need to actually practice this tea craft properly?”

Xie Lanting was taken aback. Remembering this person’s habit of pinching every coin, his expression did ease somewhat. “Have the servants of your household been with you the whole time?”

“Not with me directly — they’ve been keeping watch nearby.” Chen Baoxiang said. “Han Xiao comes to refill my water every half hour, and I’ve made two trips to the privy, both times running into a household servant along the way.”

The post station had sent the transfer acknowledgment report, which meant Lu Shouhuai had first been escorted to Huaikou Post Station, before being seized by the killer and dragged back to be drowned in the river.

Getting from here to the western city gate took half an hour, and riding on horseback to Huaikou Post Station took another half hour or more. Accounting for the round trip, Chen Baoxiang would have needed more than two hours to commit the crime.

His guard lowering, Xie Lanting pressed a hand to his forehead. “Which means there is no way you could have been at the riverbank in the western outskirts.”

“What riverbank?” Chen Baoxiang looked toward Daxian in confusion.

The latter gave her a brief account of what had occurred in the western outskirts.

“Lu Shouhuai is dead?” she exclaimed. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

Zhang Zhixu immediately clamped a hand over her mouth and gave Xie Lanting an apologetic smile. “She’s young and doesn’t know any better — she’s just talking nonsense.”

Xie Lanting pursed his lips. “I have always been rigorous in my investigations. I would never grow suspicious over a few careless words. My earlier suspicion of her arose only because the time of Lu Shouhuai’s departure from the city happened to be discussed right here today.”

“I was completely absorbed in my tea brewing,” Chen Baoxiang said, pulling Zhang Zhixu’s hand away from her mouth. “How could I have been listening to what you were saying?”

And indeed — she had no compelling reason to want Lu Shouhuai dead. The small grudge she had with Cheng Huaili earlier was hardly worth taking such a great risk over.

Compared to Chen Baoxiang, the farmers whose families had been ruined by Lu Shouhuai were far more likely suspects.

Xie Lanting left in a frazzled state, continuing his investigation of other suspects.

Chen Baoxiang propped her chin in her hand and watched his retreating figure. “Magistrate Xie can be quite frightening sometimes.”

“Did he scare you?” Zhang Zhixu said, pressing his lips together. “He’s been that way since childhood. While the other classmates were playing cockfighting or pretending to be great kings, he would insist on dragging us all into holding court.”

“Yin Fengshi and Xu Buran, subjected to his overbearing nature, were put on trial as criminals from the time they were children all the way to adulthood. Even I was assigned the role of a scribe, writing confessions every single day.”

Chen Baoxiang turned to look at him, her gaze a little dazed.

Zhang Zhixu touched the tip of his nose. “Not funny? I did say my childhood was remarkably dull.”

“No, it’s not that…” She tilted her head, seeming about to say something, then stopped herself and changed the subject. “Daxian, being a record clerk is terribly dull — I never seem to get assigned anything of substance.”

Zhang Zhixu thought it over. “There have been riots in many areas of late, so the military constabulary should be quite busy. I’ll go ask on your behalf tomorrow and find out if they’ve somehow overlooked you.”

“Wonderful.” Chen Baoxiang smiled sweetly, then broke off another half piece of tea cake and continued steeping it.

The news of Lu Shouhuai’s death barely caused a ripple with her — but in Shangjing, it set off a tremendous uproar.

Cheng Huaili, like a man possessed, wheeled himself into the palace to seek imperial audience, making pointed insinuations throughout about the Zhang Family’s treacherous ambitions. Zhang Zhixu was not to be outdone either — after proving the Zhang Family’s innocence, he pressed vigorously for the Emperor to dissolve the betrothal between the two families.

The Grand Princess was only too happy to sit on the sidelines and watch the spectacle unfold, leaving the new Emperor so vexed that his mouth broke out in sores.

“Lu Shouhuai’s death was nothing more than an accident,” the new Emperor said to Cheng Huaili. “The Court of Judicial Review has already investigated. They say they cannot rule out the possibility that he fell into the water and drowned on his own.”

“Your Majesty, Lu Shouhuai was a prisoner being transported into exile. How could he possibly have made his way back from beyond Huaikou Post Station on his own, only to slip and drown halfway there?! It is plainly the work of the Zhang Family’s people — they already sent someone disguised as a ghost to frighten me and steal my life-saving medicine, and they sent their subordinates to smash up my shops as well—”

“Minister.” The new Emperor cut him off sharply. “The Zhang Family is bound to you by marriage.”

The Zhang and Cheng families had to remain on peaceful terms. The larger this matter grew, the more it would give the Grand Princess an opening to exploit.

Cheng Huaili had discerned it — whenever anything involved the Zhang Family, the Emperor would not yield. No matter what happened between them, the Emperor wanted both families to remain useful to him, without falling into conflict.

His eyes darkening as he lowered them, Cheng Huaili cupped his hands in a bow. “This official understands.”