Su Yuji heard the person behind her call out “Miss” and found it utterly baffling. She stared warily at the newcomer and asked: “Who are you?”

The person was a woman of around forty years of age, kind-eyed with a face worn by the years, bearing all the marks of a hard life. When she saw Su Yuji, tears ran freely down her face as she cried out in grief: “Madam, this old servant has not failed in her duty — I have finally found the young miss. You may rest in peace on the other side!”

Su Yuji had been about to ignore the woman. A complete stranger suddenly weeping at her on the street — could this not be some kind of fraud? But then this woman’s mouth had uttered the word “madam.”

Su Yuji had been on the verge of leaving, but upon hearing that word she could not help but stop.

Her mother had died of illness when she was four years old. The mother in her memory was always frail and distant, lying in a room that smelled heavily of medicine, looking at her with cold indifference — and at times Su Yuji even had the impression that Su Mother hated her.

But why?

Young Su Yuji had not understood. It was only after Su Mother passed away, when the maternal relatives came to mourn and were murmuring among themselves, that Su Yuji caught fragments from her aunts’ complaints: her mother had not given birth to her — she had been picked up off the road by her grandmother.

From that point on, Su Yuji had become exceptionally well-behaved. She feared her grandmother might have a change of heart and no longer want her; she feared her father might sell her to recoup the years of investment. Her only recourse was to make herself excel at everything, in hopes that if she was good enough, her grandmother would not regret having picked her up.

Fortunately, there was Su Xingzhi. He had helped raise her from childhood, and in her life he had been part older brother, part father, part mother. After Su Father died, Su Xingzhi became the head of the household and continued to treat her just as he always had. Only then did Su Yuji slowly settle her fears and stop living in constant anxiety.

After so many years, she had long since stopped thinking about her biological family. A pair of parents who had abandoned her — what was there to look for? The Su household was her home.

But today, a stranger had suddenly told her that her mother had been searching for her all these years. Su Yuji knew rationally that she should not be easily taken in, but the desire for a mother’s love coiled around her like a vine, and her heart could not help but give rise to a desperate fantasy.

Perhaps she too had her own family. Perhaps her parents had not abandoned her — perhaps some misfortune had separated them and driven them apart.

Su Yuji could not stop herself from turning around, and with what she thought was a well-concealed manner examined the woman before her, asking: “Who are you? Why do you know me?”

The woman wiped her tears forcefully, then wept and laughed at once: “This old servant was an intimate attendant of Madam Wang Shi of Duke Zhenguo’s manor. Seventeen years ago, the madam went into labor on the outskirts of the city near the Southern Mountains, and after giving birth suffered a hemorrhage and fell unconscious. At that time this old servant was occupied with caring for the madam and had no attention to spare. The young master and young miss were being looked after entirely by the madam’s wet nurse, Nanny Su. Who could have imagined that Nanny Su would harbor such wicked intentions and switch you, Miss, with her own granddaughter?”

When Su Yuji heard the name of her grandmother, her heart gave a violent lurch and her whole being felt as though she had fallen into a dream: “What?”

“Your grandmother, a woman of the Su clan, once served in Duke Zhenguo’s manor — surely the young miss is aware of this? But did you know that in that same year, her daughter-in-law was also in Chang’an managing a commercial property for Madam Wang, and around the same time gave birth to a girl? No matter how much the Su family accumulated in that shop, it could not compare to the boundless wealth and prestige of a ducal manor. That old woman harbored wicked thoughts and took a reckless gamble: amid the chaos at the mountain villa, she brought her own granddaughter to the villa and substituted her in place of the young miss. Then she hurried back to her home village with you, the young miss, in her arms, and told everyone you were a child of the Su family. With this act of substitution, she exchanged a daughter of a ducal house for a weed from a peasant family.”

Su Yuji listened to all of this in a state of complete stupor. She thought of her mother’s inexplicable hatred toward her, of the complicated look in her grandmother’s eyes whenever she looked at her — and suddenly, everything she had never been able to make sense of now seemed to have an explanation in this single moment.

Yet Su Yuji still had not completely believed what the woman in front of her was saying. If she had truly been switched, then the one who should be seeking her out now would be her own flesh and blood, not a complete stranger of a servant woman. Who knew whether what this woman said was true or false?

“This is a matter known to very few,” Su Yuji said skeptically. “If even Duke Zhenguo’s manor had never discovered it, how do you come to know of it?”

The servant woman said indignantly: “How could it have gone undiscovered? Duke Zhenguo suspected the true identity of the twins on multiple occasions. In the third year of Chuigong and again in the second year of Tianshou, he went to the Su household time and again to inquire into the truth. Nanny Su met with the duke in secret on those occasions and used clever words to deceive him. Later, as the twins grew up and the duke came to cherish deeply his only daughter, he was unwilling to believe she might be false — and gradually let the matter drop. Only this old servant, who has grieved all these years for the madam who died in childbirth and whose own flesh and blood was then stolen, has never stopped searching. And now at last I have found the young miss. Miss, you were born a daughter of a noble ducal house, the celebrated twin with the auspicious name — that honor should rightly belong to you! And yet it has been stolen and occupied by a girl of peasant stock. This old servant cannot bear to even think of it, and grieves for both the young miss and the madam.”

Su Yuji’s mind buzzed and rang. When this woman had first approached her, she had believed only three parts in ten — but when the woman brought up the third year of Chuigong and the second year of Tianshou, the scales in Su Yuji’s heart swung violently: those three parts became five.

When she was seven years old, she had indeed once come across a man at the Su household. The man’s clothing was ordinary, yet he carried about him an indescribable air of nobility. The look he gave her at the time had been very strange. Afterward Su Yuji asked her grandmother who the man was, and her grandmother had been visibly startled, had looked this way and that, and deflected the question to change the subject.

In the end, Su Yuji had never learned the man’s identity — until just the other day, when she had caught sight of Duke Zhenguo on the street, walking home with Ming Huazhang and Ming Huashang, and she had suddenly realized with a start: the man she had encountered at the age of seven had been Duke Zhenguo himself.

A man of Duke Zhenguo’s standing — why would he have appeared in an obscure little village on the outskirts of Taiyuan? His visit was a matter worth marking; why had her grandmother concealed it?

Things Su Yuji had never thought deeply about now suddenly unfolded before her in all their brutal clarity. It turned out her grandmother had deceived her — it turned out that the origin story she had privately nursed and been unable to release was a performance staged by the Su family just for her.

Had all of it been for that one girl? An image flashed before Su Yuji’s mind: Ming Huashang’s clear, bright eyes. Truly a person the love of ten thousand people gathered upon — not only Duke Zhenguo adored her, her brother adored her, but even the Su family’s elders had adored her.

Su Yuji suddenly had a very frightening thought: her grandmother had known — but did Su Xingzhi know?

Su Yuji forcibly dug her nails into her palm, compelling herself to calm down, then lifted her gaze and asked: “What is your purpose in telling me all this?”

The servant woman wore an expression of righteous indignation and said: “Miss, this old servant only cannot stand to see someone else occupying a nest that does not belong to them, and wants to see the right order restored. The riches and glories of a ducal house, the adoration of a twin older brother — all of that should rightfully belong to you. Now it has been stolen by that lowly peasant girl — how is this just? Miss, I have heard that Duke Zhenguo’s manor is already arranging a marriage match for that imposter. If she secures a good marriage and weds into an aristocratic family, where is the justice in that? Miss, you must act quickly to expose her for what she is — you cannot allow her to get what she wants!”

Su Yuji looked at the servant woman with cold eyes and said: “I grew up in a peasant family myself — are you calling me lowly?”

The servant woman froze for a moment, but immediately apologized to Su Yuji. Su Yuji watched the servant woman’s quick, darting eyes and felt a fire burning within her — a mixture of fury and cold detachment.

The woman’s manner of speaking was certainly stirring, but she was far too eager. Did she really think Su Yuji could not read between the lines? This servant woman was trying to incite her — hoping to goad Su Yuji into going to Duke Zhenguo’s manor to make a scene.

If she had truly suffered an injustice, she would not swallow it silently. But she would not be used as a pawn by someone pulling strings in the background either.

The servant woman claimed to be an old attendant of Wang Shi, and kept speaking of acting for Madam Wang’s good — but Su Yuji was not inclined to believe this. She was more convinced that this woman was a servant of one of the manor’s concubines who, for reasons unknown, had found her out and wanted to use her as a scapegoat to stir up trouble. Whether the story about her and Ming Huashang having been switched was true or false, a person who was goading her to rush over and cause a scene was absolutely not acting in her interest.

The servant woman finished her apology, then fixed her eyes on Su Yuji’s expression and asked: “Miss, as for the matter of being switched—”

“There is no evidence,” said Su Yuji flatly. “Going there rashly without proof could easily be turned against me. I should wait until I have gathered sufficient evidence before going.”

The servant woman paused for a moment, then quickly smiled and nodded in agreement: “The young miss is so thoughtful — it is this old servant who was hasty. Miss, if there is anything you need, this old servant is here to help.”

Su Yuji’s black-and-white eyes settled on the woman steadily and unblinking — it made even her feel intimidated. The servant woman stiffened slightly and asked with confusion: “Miss?”

Su Yuji withdrew her gaze and said coldly: “This matter still needs to be considered carefully. I have my own plans.”

The servant woman made agreeable sounds and said: “If the young miss has any instructions, you may leave word for this old servant here. This is the address of this old servant’s son — a trustworthy place, rest assured it is safe.”

Su Yuji took the slip of paper the servant woman offered, scanned it, said nothing, and tucked it away. The servant woman, perceptive to the atmosphere, said with tact: “This old servant will not disturb the young miss any further. Whenever the young miss has thought things through, you may come and find me at any time.”

Su Yuji had been cold and blunt with the stranger of uncertain origin — not showing her an inch of warmth. After the woman left, she stood with the slip of paper clutched in her palm, heart hammering wildly, and was by no means as composed as she had appeared.

Ming Huashang was the person who had taken her identity? Ming Huazhang was actually her biological older brother? And Su Xingzhi was actually the son of the people who had perpetrated the switch?

These revelations were too shattering to Su Yuji’s understanding of everything she knew. She felt faint on her feet, stumbling as she walked, and had to press herself against the wall and sink down. Her spirit felt as though it had been split in two: one half screaming furiously about how they had the right to do this to her, and the other half whispering quietly that Ming Huashang was not that kind of person — could there be some mistake in all this?

Precisely because she knew Ming Huazhang and Ming Huashang — the very people at the center of this story — she had been able to detect the parts of the servant woman’s speech that had distorted the truth while she was being incited. If she had never met Ming Huashang, had never worked alongside her several times, right now she would certainly have been swept away by fury and hatred and rushed straight to Duke Zhenguo’s manor to demand answers.

Su Yuji’s mind was in turmoil, and she had not the faintest idea what to do. She crouched there for a while, then slapped herself hard on the cheeks to force herself back to composure, pushed herself up against the wall, and rose.

In her current state of mind, she was plainly in no condition to go to the Western Market to buy things. Better to go back first and calm down.

After Su Yuji left, the servant woman from just moments before appeared at the mouth of the alley — though now she stood straight-backed with a cold expression, not a trace of the earlier loyal and devoted servant’s manner remaining. She watched Su Yuji’s retreating figure with icy eyes, summoned a pigeon with a whistle, and wrote swiftly on a strip of paper: “Reporting to Your Highness: the fish has taken the bait, but still hesitates. A heavier lure is needed.”

·

Inside the Capital Prefecture, it was yet another busy and ordinary day. Constables straightened their swords and headed out to patrol the streets. The clerk on duty stood with a stern face, delivering a reprimand to the soldiers. The records clerk, clutching a packet of medicine, strode hurriedly along the corridor. He stopped before the Junior Administrator’s office, smoothed his robes, and called out in a clear voice: “Shaoyin, the things you requested have been found.”

From inside came a faint reply: “Bring them in.”

The records clerk pushed the door open and, upon taking in the scene inside, paused — then lowered his eyes and bowed respectfully to Ming Huazhang: “Shaoyin Ming.”

Ming Huazhang’s eyes remained on the case files. He gestured toward the adjacent table and said: “Set them here.”

The records clerk could not help but lift his gaze, taking in the sight of the young woman casually leaning back at Ming Huazhang’s side, holding a tray of pastries and openly reading through the documents — a sight that left him wanting to speak yet unable to, yet unable to stay silent yet unwilling to speak. In the end, deciding that his official cap mattered more, he resigned himself and averted his gaze: “Yes, sir.”

After the records clerk left, the impeccably composed and properly seated Ming Huazhang shot Ming Huashang a displeased look and said with faint added weight: “Sit properly.”

Ming Huashang made a sound of acknowledgment, not moving an inch. Ming Huazhang waited for some time, quite certain he could not outlast his younger sister, and could only resign himself with a sigh. He adjusted the angle of the case files and slid them in front of her, gathered up the pastry crumbs that had fallen, and even tucked a cushion behind her lower back so she would not end up leaning crookedly and growing up with crooked bones.

Ming Huazhang opened the medicine packet the records clerk had brought and consulted the paper beside it, identifying each item one by one. After returning from Jinxiu Tavern, he had immediately sent for the case files from the tenth year of Tianshou to look for the record of Proprietor Feng’s death at the tavern. At the time, the Capital Prefecture’s presiding officer had concluded Proprietor Feng died of illness and had not written much — only a brief account of how the Capital Prefecture received the report, how it deployed its staff, how it handled the matter, and then nothing more.

It was only through Ming Huazhang’s careful and methodical work that he had been able to send someone to investigate Huichun Hall — the pharmacy Liu Shi had used to fill the prescriptions. This inquiry revealed that Huichun Hall was quite a significant establishment, being a hundred-year-old institution of established reputation. There was no shortage of long-standing medical halls in Chang’an, but Huichun Hall had endured because they possessed a proprietary secret medicine with remarkable efficacy for treating heart ailments, passed down through the generations from father to son alone — never from father to daughter, never from master to apprentice. They were admirably secretive about it. The common people trusted their ancestral craft and visited Huichun Hall for all manner of ailments, head-aches to fevers — and even titled officials had been known to patronize them.

The current heir of the Huichun Hall lineage was a man named Chu Ji. This Physician Chu was said to have surpassed even his forebears in medical skill, and was quite well-known in the southern part of the city. The one Liu Shi had hired at high price to treat Proprietor Feng was this very man.

Huichun Hall’s secret formula for heart ailments was their most celebrated offering, so it was entirely plausible that Liu Shi would seek him out. What followed was as the cook had described: Chu Ji came in person to examine Proprietor Feng, wrote a prescription, but kept the formula secret — requiring a token to fill the medicine only at Huichun Hall.

Ming Huazhang had sent someone to ask at Huichun Hall, and it was confirmed that three years ago Liu Shi had indeed visited the shop frequently, and that the day before Proprietor Feng died, Liu Shi had also come. As usual, Huichun Hall had sold her the already-prepared herbal medicine, and Liu Shi only needed to decoct it once at home. Huichun Hall had no way of knowing why Proprietor Feng would suddenly fall critically ill and die.

Ming Huazhang naturally did not dare to suggest that the respected establishment’s prescriptions were at fault. He had sent a constable to obtain the same prescription for treating critical heart conditions, brought it back to the Capital Prefecture for study — but Ming Huazhang’s knowledge of medicine was limited and he could not identify many of the herbs, so he had gone to the Grand Medical Office to bring in a Medical Examiner to help reverse-engineer the formula.

That morning the Medical Examiner had delivered both the medicine packet and the written formula. The Examiner had, however, made a special note on the paper that in the matter of medicine, the margin of error was vast; the processing methods of different medical establishments were fundamentally different, and even knowing the types and quantities of the herbs, without knowing the order of preparation, the reverse-engineered formula might not save a life — it might in fact take one.

Ming Huazhang had no intention of pilfering anyone’s secret formula. But the Medical Examiner’s words had reminded him: with the exact same herbs, the difference between poisoning someone and curing them might lie in the smallest of margins.

Ming Huazhang’s slender fingers held up a dark brown slice and examined it carefully, then asked Ming Huashang: “I recall that aconite root is toxic, isn’t it?”

Ming Huashang had just finished reading through the testimony. She stretched lazily and naturally leaned back against Ming Huazhang: “Yes. The instructor who taught poisons at the Southern Mountains mentioned it. The entire aconite plant is toxic, and its lateral roots, when processed and used medicinally, are called processed aconite. If the dosage of processed aconite is too large, or if it is not boiled long enough, or if the processing quality is poor, it can cause poisoning upon consumption.”

Ming Huashang and Ming Huazhang both recalled what the cook had said: that the afternoon before Proprietor Feng died, someone had witnessed Qian Yi secretly giving something to Liu Shi. What if that had been a toxic preparation of aconite?

Ming Huazhang glanced back and noticed Ming Huashang leaning against him while reading through the case files — but this time he said nothing about her improper posture. Ming Huazhang placed the aconite back in the medicine packet and sighed: “If Proprietor Feng truly died of aconite poisoning, then no wonder the silver needle test showed nothing. Those poisoned by aconite do not show obvious external signs — it appears to be a death by illness. Proprietor Feng had already had a heart condition to begin with; an untrained eye could easily be fooled. Liu Shi then rushed to bury Proprietor Feng — with three years passed by now, the body would have decomposed. There is no physical evidence left.”

“So even if Liu Shi and Qian Yi’s conduct is highly suspicious, they cannot be convicted?”

“Very difficult.”

Ming Huashang let out a long sigh, looking at the testimony in her hand: “Then I feel even more certain that the Jinxiu Tavern explosion was a premeditated murder out of revenge. Jinxiu Tavern has certainly been seeing quite a lot of activity lately.”

And indeed, aside from the incident on the night of the Lantern Festival, Chang’an had mercifully seen no further explosions in the days that followed; the three-day celebrations ended peacefully. The lanterns across Chang’an’s streets were taken down one by one. The staff of the Capital Prefecture, Ming Huashang included, all breathed a sigh of relief.

Day by day the time passed. New foreign dancing girls arrived at the Western Market, new wine shops opened, and the commoners flocked in droves, drawn by the sound of drums beating for the Hu spinning dance. The sound of the explosion on the night of the Lantern Festival gradually receded into the distance — leaving only the victims’ families and the Capital Prefecture to remember that a murder had taken place at Jinxiu Tavern.

These past few days, Jinxiu Tavern had indeed been quite the scene. First, Proprietor Feng’s nephew Feng Liang showed up claiming that since the tavern had originally been Proprietor Feng’s property, and now that Qian Yi was dead, the establishment rightfully ought to be returned to the Feng family. Then Qian Yi’s younger brother, Qian Yue, stepped forward saying that it was only natural for property to pass from father to child, and that the tavern belonged to little Bao’er; since the nephew was still too young, he as the uncle was willing to manage it on the child’s behalf. Finally, a widow named Hu from the same ward turned up outside Jinxiu Tavern weeping, claiming Liu Shi was a fickle woman, that the son she had borne was not Qian Yi’s child at all, and that she herself was carrying Qian Yi’s posthumous offspring and demanding an equal share of the family assets.

Well then — what a remarkable establishment this modest Jinxiu Tavern was. Looking at this whole cast of characters, not a single one of them was of upright character.

Ming Huashang clicked her tongue in amazement: “Qian Yi married his master’s widow right after his master died, and then not even two years later he was having an affair with that widowed neighbor Hu, even getting her pregnant. Sure enough — a man who cheats once will never turn over a new leaf. I wonder if Liu Shi knew about him and Widow Hu, and whether she regrets it.”

Ming Huazhang found it incomprehensible and said in genuine puzzlement: “He already had Liu Shi as his wife, a son, and a stable life — why would he still go around flirting and picking up other women? Did he have nothing better to do?”

Ming Huashang leaned back against Ming Huazhang’s shoulder, giving him a sideways glance with a half-smile, and said: “Maybe some men just enjoy secret pleasures within arm’s reach — they get a thrill from the forbidden.”

Ming Huashang waited for her saintly, gentleman-like older brother to rebuke her and cite the classics to condemn such immoral behavior. Yet after waiting a long while, the person behind her made no sound at all.

Ming Huashang sat up in surprise and turned to look at Ming Huazhang: “Second Brother, why aren’t you saying anything?”

Ming Huazhang sat straight-backed, with the composed bearing of a jade statue, and said with detachment: “How would I know the thoughts of men like that.”

Ming Huashang was rendered speechless for a moment, then murmured in agreement: “That’s true — Second Brother is open and upright, a true gentleman. How could you have any appreciation for something as morally depraved as an apprentice taking his master’s widow as his wife? In this case, the three most likely beneficiaries — Feng Liang, Qian Yue, and Widow Hu — all went to see the Hundred-Years Lantern, and theoretically each had the opportunity to tamper with it. Of these, Feng Liang may have been seeking revenge for Proprietor Feng and wanted to reclaim Jinxiu Tavern after killing Qian Yi; Qian Yue may have been jealous of his brother’s money, since if his brother were gone he could justifiably seize the assets in the name of his underage nephew; Widow Hu has the least reason of all to kill Qian Yi — with Proprietor Qian dead, who would prove that the child in her belly is his? She still needs Qian Yi as her financial backer. She should not be the one to have killed him.”

Ming Huazhang listened quietly, his bearing impeccable, while his fingers gradually tightened — slowly rubbing against his knuckles. Qian Yi and Liu Shi were an apprentice and his master’s wife with no blood relation, and she had dismissed them with such contempt. What about himself then?

Ming Huazhang suppressed the shame in his heart and, in his customarily cool tone, said: “Widow Hu has no motive for murder — but Liu Shi does.”

Ming Huashang’s eyes brightened and she snapped her fingers in realization: “Of course — how could I have forgotten her. She came into the marriage bringing the inherited assets, and yet Qian Yi had been pursuing another woman on the side, carrying on an inappropriate relationship with the widow next door. If Widow Hu bore a son, it would directly threaten her standing, and at the very least would take away half the family property. Given how much she cares about her son, she was absolutely capable of killing Qian Yi to protect her son’s inheritance. The lantern was right there in Jinxiu Tavern, and as the proprietress she would have found it far easier to tamper with it than any of the others.”

“But these are still only conjectures.” Ming Huazhang unrolled a scroll and tried to look for new breakthrough points. “The greatest danger in investigation is having a preconceived suspect. Once a bias forms, you unconsciously begin looking for evidence against the person in your mind. If an innocent person is wrongly convicted, we become the criminals. Whether Proprietor Feng truly died of natural causes or was murdered bears directly on this case’s suspect and their motive — it cannot be left unclear. Even if Proprietor Feng genuinely died of illness in the night, we cannot on that account wrong Liu Shi.”

Ming Huashang found this very reasonable — so she might as well leave the difficult reasoning to her older brother. She comfortably leaned back against Ming Huazhang’s shoulder, and after a while Ming Huazhang heard the breathing beside him grow steady and even. He turned to look: Ming Huashang’s eyes were closed — she had fallen asleep.

He had been about to wake her and send her to the couch, but when he raised his hand, he could not bear to push her awake.

For the past several days she had been by his side every moment. She went out with him early in the mornings and stayed until he was done for the day in the evenings. However long Ming Huazhang was at the office, she would accompany him that long. Even when she could barely keep her eyes open from drowsiness, she refused to leave.

Ming Huazhang had told her several times to go on ahead, but she had shaken her head each time, saying that time once gone never returns and she wanted to make every day count. Ming Huazhang knew she wanted to crack the case quickly, and however much he felt for her, he could only endure.

Ming Huazhang bowed his head and looked at her profile for a long, long time. Her eyes were beautifully shaped — ordinarily like a clear spring, always so lively and animated, never settling for a moment. Now that they were closed, she was like a sea crabapple in the lazy warmth of spring, like snow settling on a red plum — with a vividness and elegance that was wholly its own, untouched by worldly concerns.

It seemed that without his noticing, the little girl with the gap-toothed smile and tearful face had grown into an upright young woman of poise and grace. She had developed the gorgeous, feminine beauty of a grown woman; she had developed her own convictions and pursuits; she had even come to have admirers.

Ming Huazhang stared at her, as though under a spell, and his cheek began to draw closer without his awareness. His lips had nearly touched her forehead when outside there came a heavy tramping of boots: “Shaoyin, terrible news — in the south of the city—”

A constable had received a report and, recognizing the familiar location, ran quickly to report to the Junior Administrator. He shoved the door open with a bang, and saw the Shaoyin’s hand loosely cupped over the shoulder of the young woman sleeping there, while two eyes, sharp as cold blades, locked onto him.

The constable stumbled over his words and forgot entirely what he had meant to say. At that moment the young woman was already woken by the noise, blinking and opening her eyes in a daze: “How did I fall asleep… Second Brother, has something happened?”

Ming Huazhang gave the constable an icy stare, then looked at her, his voice still gentle as a breeze: “Nothing — just a minor matter. You can go back to sleep.”

Ming Huashang, seeing that there was someone at the door, hurriedly straightened her hair and sat up properly. Only then did the constable dare to enter, wearing a look of distress: “Shaoyin, it’s not a minor matter — something serious has happened!”

“What is it?”

“The Divine Physician Chu Ji whom you had us keep watch on — he was blown up and killed in his own medicine hall early this morning.”