From the moment Ming Huazhang had heard the old servant describe how the Lu couple had died in a fire four years ago, a feeling of wrongness had settled over him — his instincts told him that this had not been an accident, but murder.
A husband and wife who had slept in separate quarters for years, suddenly found in the same room. They did not move, they did not flee, they did not call for help as the fire consumed them. Death by coal smoke inhalation was possible, but unlikely.
By Auntie Xu’s account, the Lu master had never allowed servants to keep watch overnight — a habit maintained over many years without incident. A man like that could not possibly have been unaware of the danger of sleeping with braziers burning in a sealed room. And what was more, during this period Lu Du had actually been living in the family home, and had nearly been burned alive himself — only saved when servants came to wake him. That, to Ming Huazhang, only heightened his suspicion.
He had met Lu Du. This was an extremely intelligent and cautious person. He would never be the kind to sleep through a fire without noticing. Combined with Ming Huashang’s analysis that four years ago something of great significance must have happened to the killer — something that radically relieved his psychological pressure and caused him to abandon killing — Ming Huazhang was now almost certain that Lu Du had something to do with his parents’ deaths.
This was not difficult to verify: all that was needed was to open the Lu family coffins and have a coroner examine whether the two had been burned alive or killed first and then set on fire. When Ming Huazhang learned that the courtyard where Lu Du’s father had once lived was the very same Lengqie Courtyard, he immediately took his leave of Auntie Xu and spurred his horse back toward Chang’an at full speed.
He had a premonition: this place was very likely the site of the crimes — both his father’s and his own.
He had slipped away from Jingzhao Prefecture without telling anyone, dressed in ordinary clothes, so his comings and goings drew no particular attention. He entered the city at once and headed straight for Qingchan Temple. The novice monks took him for an ordinary worshipper and paid him little notice. Ming Huazhang seized the moment when the path was clear, and slipped over the wall into Lengqie Courtyard. He was just wondering whether things had gone too smoothly when, to his surprise, he walked straight into two people.
People he knew, at that.
Ming Huazhang looked at Ren Yao and Jiang Ling and asked in astonishment, “What are you doing here?”
Jiang Ling scratched his head, equally bewildered. “Didn’t Ming Huashang tell you?”
Ming Huazhang fixed his gaze on Jiang Ling and Ren Yao’s expressions, and the thread he had been holding taut inside him snapped. His face went cold as ice — the angrier he was, the quieter his voice became. “What’s happened to her?”
Even Jiang Ling, for all his obliviousness, realized in that moment something had gone wrong. He had assumed this operation had been arranged by Ming Huashang and Ming Huazhang together. But Ming Huazhang had no idea?
Of course he hadn’t. With Ming Huazhang’s temperament, had he known in advance, he never would have permitted her to take such a risk.
Jiang Ling faltered and could not quite look Ming Huazhang in the eye. Ren Yao cut them both off without ceremony: “That’s enough — now is not the time for this. She’s already been taken by Lu Du. The only thing that matters right now is finding the hidden mechanism to the underground chamber, or it’ll be too late for anything.”
Only then did Ming Huazhang learn the full picture: Ming Huashang had devised a plan to draw the snake out of its hole. She would follow Lu Du, find a chance to engage him in conversation, and provoke him into making a move against her. Once the “snake” had taken the bait, she would use a coded signal to alert Ren Yao and Jiang Ling, who would come in to intercept and catch Lu Du in the act.
The plan looked sound on paper — but in practice, there was one enormous flaw.
Ming Huashang had already been taken by Lu Du — but when Jiang Ling and Ren Yao entered, they could not find the entrance to the underground chamber.
Jiang Ling saw Ming Huazhang’s expression and knew he was in the wrong. With a guilty conscience he said, “Don’t worry — she brought plenty of hidden weapons. Even if something really did go wrong, she can protect herself. She just didn’t want to kill Lu Du — she wanted to keep him alive if possible. That’s why she called us here, so we could catch him in the act.”
There was still no warmth in Ming Huazhang’s expression, but he did not reproach Jiang Ling or Ren Yao. He said in a calm, measured tone, “Find the mechanism first.”
Now that things had come to this, shouting and assigning blame would not solve anything. What mattered most was finding Ming Huashang.
Ming Huazhang drew a deep breath and forced his mind clear, thinking rationally about where the mechanism for an underground chamber would most likely be concealed.
Jiang Ling and Ren Yao had been running their hands over the bookshelves and floor tiles — the most conventional hiding places for mechanisms. Jiang Ling had even laid flat on the floor, tapping tile after tile with his ear pressed against the stone. Ming Huazhang stood back and watched them steadily, then moved forward — and walked toward the Buddha statue.
Jiang Ling noticed and said, still with his ear to the floor, “We already checked the Buddha. No mechanism.”
The statue was fixed to the wall and could not be rotated in either direction. The Buddha faced forward, his expression conveying compassion for all beings. Ming Huazhang stopped before the statue and studied it. Then he raised both hands and placed them over the Buddha’s eyes, and closed them.
A faint sound of chains and gears turning came from within the room. Jiang Ling’s hand slipped; he jerked back just in time and watched with his own eyes as the bricks in front of them sprang outward, revealing a dark, hollow shaft below. He was still staring in stunned silence when a gust of cold air swept past him and Ming Huazhang had already leaped down.
Jiang Ling gave a start, had just opened his mouth to warn — and caught himself, lowering his voice urgently: “Watch out for traps!”
His collar was seized from behind. Someone yanked him up and flung him to one side without ceremony. “Stop wasting words and get out of the way.”
Jiang Ling stumbled forward several steps before managing to catch himself on the edge of falling. He tugged his collar straight and muttered curses under his breath as he followed them down. “The path is wide enough for everyone and you still have to shove past me — are you out of your mind?”
He dropped into the chamber and could faintly hear someone speaking. Jiang Ling pressed himself against the wall and listened intently, then mouthed silently: “What’s he saying?”
Ren Yao shook her head and motioned for him to keep quiet. Just then a woman’s voice replied from the other end of the chamber. Jiang Ling recognized Ming Huashang’s voice; he was still trying to make out what she was saying when Ming Huazhang’s gaze suddenly turned ice-cold, and he spun and charged forward.
Ren Yao did not know what had prompted Ming Huazhang to move all at once, but she trusted his judgment and raised her spear in the same instant. It was fortunate they had anticipated this — they intercepted Lu Du just before the blade would have reached Ming Huashang.
Ren Yao had been enduring wave upon wave of undeserved misery during these days of city patrol, and now at last she had found the root cause of it all — she showed no quarter. She swept her silver spear horizontally and struck Lu Du hard across the body. He doubled over in pain, and Ren Yao closed in with a kick to the front that sent him crashing flat to the ground.
Ren Yao felt that using a spear to deal with someone like him was an insult to the Ren family’s tradition. She tossed the silver spear to Jiang Ling and went in with her bare fists.
It was only thanks to Jiang Ling knowing her habits and stepping back in time that he was not stabbed through on the spot. He looked on with mild exasperation. “Could you at least give me a warning before you throw things?”
Ren Yao was busy throwing punches and had no attention to spare for Jiang Ling. Jiang Ling took up Ren Yao’s spear and moved to check on Ming Huashang — but when he turned, he found that Ming Huazhang had Ming Huashang in his arms, his expression severe and his gaze dark, and was with great focus examining her limbs and body, as if there were room for no one else in the world.
Jiang Ling paused mid-step, rubbing the back of his neck, unsettled by a feeling he couldn’t quite name.
A sister in danger, an elder brother full of concern — that seemed entirely natural. But looking at their gestures, why did it leave Jiang Ling with a vague sense that something was transgressing?
Ming Huazhang had been the first to move, but he had gone nowhere near Lu Du — he had gone straight to Ming Huashang. He untied the ropes on her, said nothing at all, and with a grave expression began checking her wrists and ankles. Ming Huashang felt a little guilty and explained weakly, “I had hidden weapons. If Senior Sister Ren and the others hadn’t come, I would have used the sleeve crossbow to shoot him.”
As she spoke, she quickly showed Ming Huazhang the sleeve crossbow — the tip of the bolt gleaming with a faint, eerie green, clearly coated in a drug. This was a special weapon fashioned by Xuan Xiaowei: compact and lightweight, looking no different from a piece of jewelry, which was why Lu Du had not noticed it.
But Ming Huazhang was not consoled. The difficulty he faced now was precisely because Cen Hu had died, leaving no one alive to contradict the verdict. If Lu Du also died, how would Ming Huazhang ever overturn the case?
Ming Huazhang understood very clearly that if pushed to the absolute limit, she would not have fired. And precisely because of that, he felt all the more guilty.
After Ming Huashang finished, she braced herself for Ming Huazhang to scold her — she’d even rehearsed her argument. Yet Ming Huazhang asked her nothing. Cautiously, she asked, “Second Brother — you’re not angry with me?”
Ming Huazhang confirmed that Ming Huashang was unharmed, and only then realized his own fingers had gone numb with cold, his heart pounding violently, his blood seeming to have reversed course through his whole body. Of course he had been afraid for her — but she had put herself in this danger entirely for his sake. What right did he have to reproach her?
Ming Huazhang looked at the purple bruises on her wrists, his heart aching with guilt all at once. “I am useless. This case has nothing to do with you — if I could have found the evidence myself, you would never have had to touch any of it.”
Ming Huashang quickly replied, “Second Brother, don’t say that. This was the Dual ç’§’s assignment — I wasn’t only helping you, I was fulfilling my own duty. If I were a helpless woman with no ability whatsoever, that would be one thing. But I can find the killer. Am I supposed to stand back and do nothing — stay in the manor and enjoy my comfort while watching him prey on one innocent girl after another?”
Ming Huazhang knew that this was what Ming Huashang wanted to do, but still: “I am too useless. If I had found this place sooner, if I had dealt with the trouble inside Jingzhao Prefecture sooner, you wouldn’t have had to take this risk.”
“Second Brother, no one can know anything before its time.” Ming Huashang tightened her grip on his fingers. “Investigating this case belongs to both of us. You can only be of use if you’re willing to take risks — someone who refuses to put themselves in danger will never accomplish anything.”
While Ming Huashang and Ming Huazhang were speaking, a deliberate cough came from nearby. Jiang Ling cut in: “How about you have a look at that person first before you carry on with your sibling devotion? He looks like he’s about to be beaten to death by Ren Yao.”
Ming Huashang startled and quickly looked back. Lu Du, with his refined appearance and urbane manner, was ordinarily the picture of a distinguished gentleman from a great house, well-regarded by women wherever he went. Now he was battered and bruised, begging miserably for mercy — not a shred of that poise remained.
The sight was deeply satisfying to Ming Huashang. She deliberately climbed down from the stone platform, trotted over, and said, “Senior Sister Ren — move aside, let me have at him.”
Jiang Ling overheard this from behind, the corner of his eye twitching slightly, and looked toward Ming Huazhang. The most upright and principled Ming Huazhang had no reaction to this whatsoever — he simply watched her with that same steady composure, as though whatever Ming Huashang did, he would be right there behind her to manage the consequences.
Ren Yao had worked up a sweat. She loosened her wrists and stepped aside. “He really can’t take a hit. Not worth my time. Careful you don’t dirty your hands.”
“Understood,” said Ming Huashang — and hiked up her skirt and delivered a solid kick. The movement was anything but decorous.
Lu Du had not expected the demure-looking Ming Huashang to do something so coarse. Caught off guard, he took the full force of it — and because Ming Huashang’s aim was imprecise, the tip of her shoe connected directly with Lu Du’s face.
Lu Du tumbled to the ground and lay there, one hand clutching his jaw and staring up at Ming Huashang with seething resentment. Ming Huashang stretched her arm, and said, “What — do you feel humiliated to be struck by me? But this is exactly what you are: small and worthless. Though your body has grown to a man’s size, your heart is still that of a thirteen-year-old child. You are frozen — forever that child who lacked the courage to resist what he witnessed, who could only turn away from it, hiding, who could only satisfy himself by bullying those weaker than himself. Lu Du — I pity you from the bottom of my heart.”
Lu Du had maintained some semblance of dignity even while Ren Yao beat him, but when he heard Ming Huashang’s words, something raw was laid bare. He lunged at her like a man deranged, only to be kicked back by Ren Yao.
His back crashed hard against the cold, wet floor, the impact driving the breath from his chest. Lu Du looked up and found Ren Yao standing over him, her narrow phoenix eyes full of cool contempt. “Stay still. Don’t move. Move again and I won’t be polite about it.”
The Feathered Forest Army managed the city’s peace and security, and Ren Yao had been arresting all manner of curfew-breakers and petty criminals throughout this period. Handling offenders was second nature to her. After Ren Yao had Lu Du bound, Ming Huazhang asked: “The female beggar five years ago, Huang Caiwei and Yanyan four years ago, Cheng Siyue this past tenth month — did you kill them?”
Lu Du, who had maintained human appearances until now, had been entirely broken. He answered with flat exhaustion: “Yes.”
“On the twenty-second day of the tenth month — how did you commit the crime?”
“I had noticed before that the silk curtains in Qingchan Temple affected how colors appeared, so that day I deliberately spoke with the abbot, monks, and others beforehand, making sure they would remember I had been present. When the dharma ceremony began, I had my servant who was wearing blue clothing take my place kneeling in the private chamber to pass as me. I slipped outside during the commotion, led Cheng Siyue to my study, deceived her into drinking tea laced with a soporific, then brought her here.”
Ming Huazhang asked: “How did you dispose of the body?”
“My carriage was parked in the courtyard. When it was over, I loaded her body into the carriage. I changed clothes myself, sent my servant home first, then drove the carriage alone to the south of the city and disposed of her remains at a location I had chosen.”
Ming Huashang recalled that the young novice monk at Qingchan Temple had mentioned that on the twenty-second he had even helped Lu Du with his carriage as he was leaving. At that moment, just on the other side of the curtain, a body had already been lying there.
Above ground: a solemn and elaborate dharma ceremony. Below: the blood-stained ground of unspeakable crimes. The Buddha’s eyes were half-open, half-closed — perhaps even he did not wish to see the absurdity of the human world.
Ming Huashang asked, “Did the abbot and monks of Qingchan Temple know?”
Lu Du shook his head. “They did not.”
“And the abbot of Pude Temple?”
“He believed I only wanted to frame Cen Hu. That man was a seasoned criminal who had been hiding within Pude Temple for some time — the abbot had long been uneasy about him.”
Ming Huazhang took over: “Four years ago, your parents died in the fire — was it premeditated murder on your part?”
Lu Du was silent for a long moment, then laughed. His hands were bound and he could not press them together, so he simply uttered a short Buddhist invocation. “Yes. It is the best thing I have ever done.”
“How did they die?”
“Poison.” Lu Du concealed nothing, giving everything freely. “Arsenic.”
Ming Huazhang noted this and said coldly, “I advise you not to entertain any illusions. I will have the Lu family grave exhumed for examination. Any lie you have told me, I will find.”
Lu Du simply closed his eyes and murmured sutras softly to himself, as though he had already passed into another world. Ming Huazhang gathered evidence from the chamber. Ming Huashang, Ren Yao, and Jiang Ling climbed out of the underground passage, and sunlight poured in through the long windows — brilliant, as though the paradise promised in the scriptures truly existed beyond.
Jiang Ling asked, “Were you actually tied up this whole time?”
“Of course,” said Ming Huashang. “If I hadn’t been, how would he have spoken so freely about how he committed his crimes? Don’t worry — I was mentally alert throughout. When he tied me I deliberately adjusted the position of the sleeve crossbow. One shot would have been guaranteed.”
Just hearing about it was enough to make Ren Yao’s nerves tighten. She asked, “Weren’t you afraid that something might go wrong while you were completely unable to move?”
Ming Huashang was actually quite confident on this point, and replied with calm certainty: “No. Someone as insecure, self-important, and desperate to be seen as he is — he would absolutely want his prey to be conscious while he tormented them slowly, savoring the sight of their hope rising and falling. So before I woke, he wouldn’t do anything to me. And besides: nothing ventured, nothing gained.”
Ren Yao had been about to say that what she had done was reckless madness — but her mouth opened and closed several times, and in the end all that came out was a long, quiet sigh. “The two of you operate in exactly the same way — relentless until the goal is achieved. No wonder you are siblings.”
To this, Ming Huashang only gave a small, quiet smile and said, very softly, “Perhaps — that is fate.”
Fate moved in its immense, unhurried course, flowing without pause. Many people were swept apart by the current — and others, going round and round, would always be guided by fate to the same place.
·
The first year of Shengli, autumn.
I finally passed the Ministry of War’s examinations and became the court official I had always dreamed of being. Not the kind of so-called female official in the inner palace — those who serve the Empress in name but are maids in substance. A real official, with real patrols, real guard duties, real active service.
When I used to train in the inner quarters, I believed that passing the military examinations would resolve every difficulty. But when I truly arrived at this point, I realized that for a woman to inherit her family’s legacy, to step up to the starting line — that was only the simplest first step.
On duty, my superiors always give me the easier assignments. During drills, the male soldiers watch me. Then there is the matter of eating, sleeping, changing clothes — they never stopped reminding me, in one way or another, that I am a woman.
I could only start earlier, do more, to prove that I do not require special treatment. My maidservant could not understand, and asked me why I was persisting in this delusion — as the daughter of a Marquis’s household, I never had to endure these cold looks to begin with.
Perhaps it is because there is always one fool who, no matter how early I rise, will be there too — grumbling and yawning — keeping me company. When everyone around me was doubting me, he never said a single word against it. That made me willing to believe: my persistence has meaning.
I had thought this road was vast and long, but when I took the first step, I found — it is not so much, after all.
The road is long and obstructed; we who seek it, press on.
Ren Yao, night watch notes, Feathered Forest Army, Northern Guard.
— Case Four: The Soul Departed, The Buddha’s Grievance — Complete.