The Crown Prince had, for once, shown some backbone and managed to requisition the Palace Guards to assist. Ming Huazhang, Ren Yao, and Jiang Ling led their men in combing the city, so busy their feet barely touched the ground — which left Ming Huashang and Xie Jichuan with nothing to do.

Ming Huashang’s role had been limited to the early stage of marking out likely areas, giving the soldiers a more focused direction for their searches, but actually finding someone still depended on the frontline experience and instincts of those on the ground. Xie Jichuan, meanwhile, was idle purely because he was too lazy to endure the hardship of going out to search, and so he spent his days loitering around Ming Huashang, that physical wreck.

With nothing to occupy them, both turned their attention to the scene the killer had left behind last. They were endlessly fascinated by the murderer’s riddle, and spent their days in the pavilion picking it apart from every angle, trying to find where the killer had hidden the name of the next victim.

Unfortunately, after examining every single floor tile in the pavilion, they had come up empty. Xie Jichuan was puzzled. “This doesn’t make sense. The pavilion is only so big — where could he have hidden it? Unless he wrote the name somewhere outside?”

Xie Jichuan’s gaze drifted toward the river and the tree line. Ming Huashang thought for a moment, then shook her head. “I don’t think so. His first two gifts — the longevity lock and the plaque — both seem obvious in hindsight, but placed in context, one was for Manager Qian celebrating the birth of a son, and the other was for a physician of great renown. It was perfectly natural for them to receive such things. The killer thinks very highly of himself. He would never write the clue somewhere jarring — carving it on a tree or a stone would be far too crude. I suspect the riddle is right in front of us — somewhere everyone can see, but no one would notice.”

Xie Jichuan looked the pavilion over and raised an eyebrow. “What is this pavilion called?”

Ming Huashang walked outside and circled it. “No name written, but there is a couplet here.”

Xie Jichuan lightly stepped over the railing to read the couplet on the outer side: “At sunrise the morning colors go ungoverned; in the bright moonlight, flowing water goes wherever it will.”

Ming Huashang ran a finger along the couplet’s edges. Even though the surface had been blackened by smoke, she could tell the wood underneath was quite new. “Was this sign recently replaced?” she asked.

Xie Jichuan called someone over to ask. The constable bowed in reply. “In answer to the Secretariat Gentleman and Second Miss Ming: this was replaced last year when the capital was relocated, as part of a city-wide refurbishment in preparation for receiving the imperial procession.”

So the government had replaced it… Both Ming Huashang and Xie Jichuan felt a twinge of disappointment. Ming Huashang asked, “When you replaced the sign, is this the same board that’s there now?”

The constable looked carefully, then shook his head helplessly. “My lady, all these couplets look much the same — I truly cannot remember.”

Ming Huashang thanked him and let him go. Xie Jichuan looked up at the couplet again and said, “It’s still a lead, at any rate. Let’s take it back and see what we can make of it. At sunrise the morning colors go ungoverned; in the bright moonlight, flowing water goes wherever it will — if a name is hidden in these characters, it will not be easy to find.”

The couplet was utterly unremarkable, composed entirely of common characters that could be combined and rearranged to spell out half the names in Chang’an. Xie Jichuan prided himself on his quick mind and talent for puzzles; he refused to believe he could be bested by a murderer. He stared hard at the couplet, arms folded in silence, his thoughts racing through combinations of characters.

Ming Huashang had no talent for word puzzles, and after staring at it for a while, she sensibly gave up. She paced around the pavilion, nagged by the feeling that they had overlooked something.

After several circuits, her eyes fell on the outline the Jing Zhaoyiin’s office had chalked on the ground, and she suddenly clapped her hands. “Of course! Who says the only evidence at the scene is this pavilion? There’s still the body!”

Ming Huashang and Xie Jichuan copied down the couplet and headed back to the Jing Zhaoyiin’s office, stopping on the way at the mortuary to examine Yan Jingcheng’s remains. Xie Jichuan had overseen the original autopsy, so he now introduced Ming Huashang to the body with practiced ease. “This is Yan Jingcheng. When we found him, he had been burned beyond recognition — we identified him entirely by the ornaments on his person.”

Ming Huashang picked up the gold jewellery and shattered jade from the tray beside him and said, with genuine feeling, “It seems one really ought to wear gold jewellery — it survives fire and won’t shatter.”

Xie Jichuan raised an eyebrow. “If one plans on attending an explosion, then yes, quite.”

Ming Huashang ignored him and went through Yan Jingcheng’s personal effects one by one. Xie Jichuan watched languidly for a while, then let out a soft sound of surprise and called the guard over. “Has anyone been in here during this period? Something feels like it’s missing.”

The guard was greatly alarmed. “No, sir! My lord, I make my rounds every day and check several times through the night — no one has gotten in.”

“Is that so?” Xie Jichuan stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I didn’t make a particular note of it, but I have the impression there was more on him than this.”

Ming Huashang set down a fragment and asked, “Jichuan, is something wrong?”

Xie Jichuan thought for a moment, then slowly shook his head. “Never mind — perhaps it’s my imagination. Is there anything useful among these items?”

Ming Huashang sighed. “Nothing. Just ordinary rings, a belt, and pendant ornaments. The gold content is rather generous, but there’s nothing else out of the ordinary.”

Xie Jichuan had expected as much. He glanced at the sky and said, “It’s nearly end of shift — let’s go. Time to head back into the city.”

The mortuary guard saw them out with great care. Over the past few days, the security checks throughout Chang’an had grown noticeably stricter, and walking through the streets one could feel the tension in the air. Ming Huashang and Xie Jichuan had the Jing Zhaoyiin’s office’s tokens, so they passed through the city gates without difficulty and made their way toward Tongji Ward. As they walked, Xie Jichuan asked, “You’ve been out running around every day — do your family not object?”

“They do,” Ming Huashang said. “But I don’t listen.”

Xie Jichuan gave a quiet laugh. “The impression you give people and who you actually are — they really are nothing alike.”

Ming Huashang had a sweet, gentle appearance, and her way of speaking was soft and lively — altogether she looked very well-behaved. When he first met her, he had assumed she was yet another pampered young lady of good family. It was only after seeing her in person at a murder scene that he realized: beneath that pretty and delicate exterior, there could beat a heart that was restless and entirely uncontained.

Ming Huashang blinked innocently, her eyes large and clear, the very picture of someone incapable of mischief. The two of them kept up an easy, meandering conversation, and soon the Jing Zhaoyiin’s office was just ahead. Ming Huashang, eager to see Ming Huazhang, wasn’t paying attention and walked right into someone.

The person standing in the way was a thin, slight man. He was knocked by Ming Huashang and, as though something had frightened him terribly, stumbled back two quick steps and actually fell to the ground. Ming Huashang was startled and hurried to help him up. “I’m sorry — I didn’t see you standing there. Where did you fall? Do you need to see a physician?”

Though Ming Huashang felt she hadn’t used much force, the man had still fallen, and that was ultimately her fault. But to her surprise, the man reacted to her as if she were a venomous snake — he violently dodged her outstretched hand, scrambled up from the ground regardless of his injured foot, and half-limped, half-ran away.

Ming Huashang’s hand remained suspended in the air. She stared after him in bewilderment. “I hadn’t even finished speaking… Are you really all right?”

The man had already run far off. Xie Jichuan came to a slow stop beside her, glanced at the figure’s retreating back, and said, “He can still run, so the foot can’t be too badly hurt. Don’t worry about him — let’s go.”

Ming Huashang frowned, braced her hands on her knees as she straightened up, and said, “This is the first time I’ve ever seen someone get knocked into who doesn’t get angry, doesn’t try to extort the other person, and just runs off without a backward glance.”

Xie Jichuan said idly, “In a big forest you’ll find all sorts of birds. Maybe he’d just done something with a guilty conscience and was feeling nervous.”

Ming Huashang still found it very strange. She and Xie Jichuan talked as they walked into the Jing Zhaoyiin’s office — and right at the entrance they ran into Ren Yao and Jiang Ling. Seeing them making a great show of escorting someone in, Ming Huashang asked in surprise, “Sister Ren, what’s going on?”

Ren Yao let out a small sound of acknowledgment, loosened her wrist guard, switched her blade to the other hand, and replied, “This is a witness. We’ve already found the jewellery shop that made the longevity lock for Madam Liu’s son. Toward the end of last year, someone did come into their shop to place a custom order for a longevity lock. The customer was wearing a cloak at the time, so the staff couldn’t make out the face, but they remember the build. We’ve apprehended a suspicious individual based on your sketch, and the Jing Zhaoyiin is in the back interrogating him now. Ming Huazhang has asked us to bring the shop assistant in to identify the person.”

Jiang Ling ambled along behind, carefree as ever. “Where did you and Xie Jichuan disappear to? You only just got back. Ming Huazhang’s been asking for you every quarter-hour — he’s been driving everyone mad. He said to tell you that if you come back, you should go to his quarters to rest and wait for him to finish the interrogation before heading home together.”

Ming Huashang nodded. “No need for that — I’ll go find him myself.”

Ren Yao said, “Let’s walk together then — I need to bring this person to the inner hall.”

Jiang Ling checked the time and had a premonition that he would again fail to leave work on schedule. He spotted Xie Jichuan standing still and grabbed him by the arm. “I can’t get away — nobody gets away. Come on, let’s all go hungry together.”

The Jing Zhaoyiin’s public court was divided into the outer hall and the inner hall: the former was open to the public to observe, while the latter was not. Today the office was using the more private inner hall. The sound of the magistrate’s gavel could be heard from a distance, and without a word to each other, all of them softened their footsteps and entered the courthouse.

The Jing Zhaoyiin was seated at the head of the hall, conducting the interrogation of the suspect. Ming Huazhang sat to one side with his sleeves composed. He caught sight of the newcomers out of the corner of his eye, and when he saw Ming Huashang among them his gaze softened. He extended a hand, beckoning her over.

Ming Huashang tiptoed over to stand behind Ming Huazhang, who took hold of her wrist and settled her at his side. Neither of them exchanged any words; they listened quietly to the proceedings at the front.

Ming Huashang had arrived mid-interrogation. After listening for a while, she pieced together the situation: the suspect was a small-time vendor who sold fireworks and firecrackers. He was solitary by nature, nearly forty, with neither wife nor child. Neighbors had caught him following respectable women on several occasions, and his comings and goings were suspicious enough that no one wanted anything to do with him. The authorities had deemed him a very likely criminal and brought him in for questioning.

The Jing Zhaoyiin’s expression was severe. He slammed the gavel down sharply and bellowed, “You scoundrel He Yong — are you still not telling the truth? Was it you who killed Qian Yi, Chu Ji, and Yan Jingcheng?”

“My lord, this commoner is wrongly accused!” The man kneeling in the hall was slovenly dressed, mumbled when he spoke, and his eyes darted about everywhere — making him look distinctly sinister and unsavory. He begged desperately, “I’m a nobody — I can’t even get close enough to speak to men of that rank. How could I possibly have the means to blow them up?”

“How dare you talk back!” The Jing Zhaoyiin roared furiously. “Multiple people have seen you repeatedly appearing near Jinxiu Tower, following Madam Liu’s carriage. You clearly coveted Madam Liu’s beauty, and resented your own poverty and loneliness, so you killed her husband! Do you confess or not?”

The man kept crying his innocence, but no matter how many times he protested, he couldn’t produce any real content, and it was frankly unconvincing. The Jing Zhaoyiin didn’t want to waste his breath. He turned a stern expression on the shop assistant and asked, “Was he the one who came to your shop that day?”

The shop assistant frowned, staring hard at the kneeling man and looking him over from left to right, then said hesitantly, “He looks a bit like him.”

The witness had spoken, and that, as far as the constables were concerned, settled it. They began chiming in one after another. “He’s definitely the culprit. Just look at that sinister face — you can tell he’s not a good sort.”

“Exactly — small and thin, dark and strange, and spending all his time around gunpowder. That’s got to be him.”

Ming Huazhang’s brow tightened almost imperceptibly. He rose and bowed to the Jing Zhaoyiin. “My lord, we cannot proceed this way. When you point to a single person and ask a witness to recall, the witness will feel they resemble the suspect even if they do not.”

The Jing Zhaoyiin’s expression darkened. “Minor Magistrate Ming, His Majesty has commanded us to solve this case within ten days. You have been obstructing us at every turn — what is your purpose? The witness says he resembles the suspect, and you dare question the witness?”

“Your subordinate would not dare.” Ming Huazhang lowered his eyes slightly, but his voice remained clear and composed — a sharp contrast to the deference his posture suggested. “It is precisely because a human life is at stake that this official dares not close the case rashly and bring harm to an innocent person.”

With Ming Huazhang openly squaring off against the Jing Zhaoyiin again, everyone in the hall quietly bowed their heads — no one wanted to catch the fallout. In the silence, Ming Huashang suddenly spoke to the man in the dock. “Your name is He Yong?”

He Yong stared blankly for a moment, not understanding what such a beautiful young woman was doing in a courthouse, and stumbled over his words. “This commoner is.”

Ming Huashang drew a sheet of paper from her sleeve, unfolded it, and asked, “What do you see here?”

He Yong stared at her blankly and shook his head. “This commoner cannot read, my lady. I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

Ming Huashang held up the paper bearing the words “At sunrise the morning colors go ungoverned; in the bright moonlight, flowing water goes wherever it will” and showed it to those assembled. “This is a couplet I copied down from the scene of Yan Jingcheng’s death. Secretariat Gentleman Xie suspects that the name of the next victim is hidden within these characters. Secretariat Gentleman Xie is of the Chen Commandery Xie family — a talent renowned since youth — and even he has not been able to unravel the riddle’s meaning. Is he Yong, a commoner who cannot even read, capable of composing a couplet that could stump Secretariat Gentleman Xie?”

Xie Jichuan, arms crossed, stood somewhere at the back of the crowd. He arched an eyebrow almost imperceptibly, and gave a faint laugh. “Second Little Sister, are you praising me or insulting me?”

“Secretariat Gentleman Xie is a talent of the finest caliber — known throughout Chang’an and Luoyang alike. That is naturally a compliment.” Ming Huashang didn’t even blink. “He Yong is reclusive and sullen, living alone — outwardly he resembles my profile, but in spirit, not in the least. The killer is without question someone arrogant and self-important, someone who loves to lecture others. He Yong is not that person. You’ve all worked hard these past few days. Tomorrow I will join everyone in the search — I’d ask that you please extend the search further out.”

·

The sky had gone dark. A group of tall, powerfully built constables trudged out of the Jing Zhaoyiin’s office in utter exhaustion, with several young people trailing at the end. Once everyone else had moved off, Xie Jichuan smiled a smile that did not quite reach his eyes and said, with a peculiar edge to his tone, “You two siblings are something else. One openly clashes with his direct superior, and the other fans the flames and adds fuel to the fire.”

Ming Huazhang’s voice remained cool. “That is precisely what ought to be done. A human life is at stake — I would rather spend more effort than wrongly condemn a single person.”

Ming Huashang watched Ming Huazhang, still fuming while forcing himself to suppress it, and found it rather amusing. She reached out and shook his arm in a familiar way. Ming Huazhang pressed his hand over hers and, though he said nothing, his temper subsided considerably.

Having soothed Ming Huazhang, Ming Huashang turned to the others with a smile. “It’s only because I knew you were all here that I dared to speak so boldly. Tomorrow I’ll go with Second Brother to search. The word puzzle — I’ll leave that to you, Brother Xie!”

Ming Huazhang said coolly, “What makes him your ‘Brother Xie’? Why do you go to him with everything?”

“Then how convenient,” Xie Jichuan said. “This Xie has meager talents and no gift for puzzles. Why not take it yourself?”

Ren Yao walked behind them with her blade, eyes darting over the three people ahead with a thoughtful look on her face. Jiang Ling strolled beside Ren Yao with his hands clasped behind his back. Seeing those two locked in a standoff, he magnanimously announced, “Since neither of you can figure it out, leave it to me. Give me one day — I guarantee I’ll crack it!”

The two facing off — Ming Huazhang and Xie Jichuan — said nothing. Jiang Ling felt the weight of the mission on his shoulders and stepped forward boldly. “Truly, this team cannot function without me… Ow!”

Ren Yao had drawn her scabbard back. She said impatiently, “Shut up. Fool.”

·

The Grand Palace.

A eunuch carrying a box walked in. A palace maid noticed him and asked, “Eunuch Zheng, is today’s document chest heavy?”

Among the palace eunuchs, ranks were graded from the Emperor’s personal attendants, to the senior managing eunuchs, to the hall eunuchs, to the reporting eunuchs, to the attending eunuchs, and finally to ordinary eunuchs. The eunuch carrying the box was surnamed Zheng. He had served in the palace for over a decade, and had recently been promoted to the rank of reporting eunuch. The palace maids of the Falcon Guards Directorate had all grown accustomed to calling him Zheng the Reporting Eunuch.

Zheng the Reporting Eunuch stopped, bent slightly at the waist, and said in a tone that was a little fawning, “Lighter than yesterday’s. Tonight I shall have to trouble the ladies once again.”

Although Zheng the Reporting Eunuch had more seniority than these palace maids, he was still a eunuch, and his work — lugging the intelligence documents from outside the palace to inside, and back again the next day — was simple manual labor, utterly worlds apart from the palace maids who sat at their posts inside the hall reading and reviewing correspondence. Eunuchs, despite being castrated, were still men, and they simply lacked the fineness and thoroughness of palace maids. The Empress thus relied far more on the maids — from Shangguan Wan’er, who was known as the Empress’s inner Chancellor, to this group of maids who analyzed intelligence on the Empress’s behalf. All of them were existences that no eunuch could afford to offend.

The palace maids served in the Falcon Guards Directorate and spent their days handling secrets that even the Three Departments and Six Ministries might not know. Naturally they did not regard a single eunuch with any particular respect. A palace maid sighed, waved her sleeve, and said, “Leave it here, then. Looks like we’ll be reading half the night again.”

Zheng the Reporting Eunuch eagerly obliged and said, “Please sit, my lady — these documents are quite unwieldy. Allow this servant to carry them over for you.”

Zheng the Reporting Eunuch transferred the sealed letters from the box to the desk, and even tidied the floor before excusing himself with an apologetic smile and withdrawing. The palace maid rubbed her aching shoulders and resigned herself to picking up the topmost letter, beginning her work for the day.

With practiced, mechanical efficiency she broke the wax seal on the envelope, skimmed the contents at a glance, and jotted a brief note when something was worth recording. Most letters were tossed into the brazier beside her — read and burned, reduced to ash without ceremony. Then she tore open one particular letter and let out a small sound of irritation — the most visible expression of feeling she had shown all day. “Trouble.”

What was this matter of the “Twin Walls”? They had no business taking on something they couldn’t handle. He had been the one to volunteer for the mission in the first place, and now that he couldn’t complete it, he was demanding the Falcon Guards Directorate supply him with every book they had relating to the formulation of gunpowder, to be left under the great willow tree at the southeast corner of the Guangde Ward wall by the hour of the Rabbit tomorrow morning.

The Falcon Guards Directorate had a notorious reputation, but in truth its original stated purpose, when the Empress had established it, had been the compilation of books and documents. Under the leadership of Zhang Yizhi, left and right Falcon Guards — twenty members on each side — were meant to wait upon the Empress with brush and ink, giving the Zhang brothers a legitimate reason to remain in the palace. Although the Directorate had by now become synonymous with the keeping of male favorites and the staging of banquets and amusements, there genuinely was a substantial collection of books housed within it.

Everything from star charts and astrology to topography and geography — the Falcon Guards Directorate had it all. For gunpowder-related materials, the Twin Walls had certainly come to the right place.

The palace maid privately felt disdainful for a moment, but in the end she rose and went to the archive room to find what the Twin Walls needed. The Directorate operated under strict protocols; before leaving, she of course did not forget to throw the remaining letters on her desk into the brazier to be burned immediately.

But in her haste to leave, her hand wasn’t steady, and the slip of paper rotated once in the air and came to rest draped over the rim of the brazier, its edge slowly curling up into black ash.

Zheng the Reporting Eunuch came in to add coal and noticed the fire was almost out. He took up the iron tongs to stoke it.

His back shielding the view, he quietly raised his eyes and saw the words that hadn’t yet burned.

·

The next morning, Ming Huashang was leaning against the side of the carriage, so drowsy she could barely keep her eyes open. Ming Huazhang had unusually decided not to ride horseback and was sitting in the carriage with her. He looked at her state and said helplessly, “If you really can’t stay awake, just go home and sleep. You’re not actually needed for the search — I can go on my own.”

Ming Huashang forcibly pried her eyes open and shook her head stubbornly. “No, I’m not sleepy. I’m wide awake.”

Ming Huazhang looked at her, let out a gentle sigh, supported her head and placed it on his lap. “Sleep a little longer. I’ll wake you when we reach the Jing Zhaoyiin’s office.”

Ming Huazhang’s legs were long and straight, well-proportioned, and Ming Huashang was asleep the moment she touched them. Ming Huazhang looked at her sleeping profile — utterly unguarded — and raised a hand to shield her eyes from the light. He said calmly to the driver outside, “Go slower. She’s asleep.”

The driver quickly eased the horses’ pace, and they took a long time to reach the Jing Zhaoyiin’s office. As the carriage entered Guangde Ward, Ming Huazhang held Ming Huashang steady with one hand and with the other lifted the carriage curtain, gazing silently out.

Unsurprisingly, beneath the great willow tree at the southeast corner, a box had been set down. The lingering chill of early spring, the trembling morning breeze, willow fronds swaying in the wind — everything was wrapped in the pale, misty light of dawn, serene and beautiful.

Yet Ming Huazhang knew that at this very moment, untold numbers of eyes were watching that box from every hidden corner, lying in wait like coiled serpents, waiting to see who would approach.

He had taken only a single glance before he withdrew his gaze and replaced the curtain without expression. He gently nudged the person resting on his knee and said warmly, “Huashang, we’ve reached the Jing Zhaoyiin’s office. Time to wake up.”

His fingers were long and slender, the knuckles clearly defined, and they carried a natural coolness. In her sleep, Ming Huashang was only dimly aware of what felt like a mosquito — brushing faintly and uncertainly across her face, tickling her to distraction, insufferably irritating. Unable to bear it any longer, Ming Huashang slapped at the mosquito, turned over, and went right back to sleep.

Ming Huazhang looked at the red mark now on his own hand, gave a quiet sigh, and stopped being gentle. With his other hand, he slipped it behind the back of her neck, and with the ice-cold touch jolted her awake. “Huashang. Time to get up.”

Ming Huashang drooped her way up the steps, rubbing the back of her neck and complaining, “Why didn’t you wake me? Now my neck hurts from sleeping.”

Ming Huazhang swept his robe aside and ascended the steps, casting a sideways glance at Ming Huashang without a word. He had graciously acted as a human pillow, and was now getting blamed for it. He shook out his sleeves and, without telling her that her sleeping posture was atrocious, said with quiet evenness, “Very well. Today I’ll try to finish early, and you can go home to sleep.”

The two of them walked one after the other toward the main hall, and at the entrance ran into the Jing Zhaoyiin. He looked them both over and asked, “Where are you going to search today?”

Ming Huazhang stood straight-backed and unhurried, and bowed with clasped hands — bearing neither the awkwardness of having clashed with his superior the previous day, nor any trace of arrogance. He said calmly, “In reply to the Jing Zhaoyiin, this subordinate is scheduled to go to Yong’an Ward today.”

The Jing Zhaoyiin nodded, gave Ming Huashang a final glance, said nothing more, and turned and walked away. Once he had gone far enough, Ming Huashang stuck out her tongue and quietly moved closer to Ming Huazhang’s side. “Second Brother, since you’ve offended the Jing Zhaoyiin, he won’t hold a grudge against me too, will he?”

“Why? Are you afraid of being implicated by your brother?”

“Nothing like that. I’m worried that when I’m not here, he’ll make things difficult for you.”

Ming Huazhang let out an extremely quiet and faint laugh. “Very well — then you’d best stick close to me, and don’t let me walk alone.”