The Empress intended to tour Qujiang Garden during the Flower Festival and had ordered the Jing Zhaoyiin office to apprehend the killer by the fourteenth day of the second month, ensuring a smooth departure of the imperial procession from the palace. Though the Empress had said the fourteenth, in practice the Three Departments and Six Ministries dismissed from duty at the shen hour — which meant they would need to have the killer in custody and the report delivered to the Ministry of Justice by the shen hour of the thirteenth at the latest.

Everyone at the Jing Zhaoyiin office was spinning like tops. Even Ming Huashang found she could no longer make herself scarce — she arrived early and sought out the hurrying Ren Yao: “Elder Sister Ren, I will join you all in searching the streets today.”

Ren Yao and Wei Zi were in the middle of discussing the day’s personnel assignments. She looked up at Ming Huashang’s words. “You drew the map that narrowed the search area — the actual manhunt is the responsibility of the Imperial Guards. You stay here at the Jing Zhaoyiin office and spare yourself the effort.”

Ming Huashang said: “Catching the killer matters most — there’s no need to divide it into ‘your task’ and ‘mine.’ I may not be strong, but there’s no time to waste now, and every additional person helps. Let me come with you.”

They were indeed short of hands. Seeing Ming Huashang’s insistence, Ren Yao did not press the point further. The two of them were still in conversation when a group of people entered through the gate. Wei Zi looked over, and gave Ming Huashang a hearty slap on the back: “What are you following us for? Your brother is here — go follow him.”

Wei Zi’s voice carried with no restraint, and the entire courtyard heard it. The group of newcomers had reached the center of the yard and were looking in their direction. The figure at their head was Ming Huazhang.

Ming Huashang had parted from Ming Huazhang the previous night on bad terms and had no desire whatsoever to see him. She had even made a deliberate detour on her way out that morning specifically to avoid him. Now, called out by Wei Zi without warning, she felt acutely uncomfortable. She grabbed Ren Yao by the arm and turned. “I need to speak with Elder Sister Ren — we’re going ahead.”

She kept her head down, pulled Ren Yao along, and all but ran out the door — as if something were chasing her. Wei Zi called after them several times, puzzled, scratching his head: “What’s the hurry? What is so urgent it has to be said away from people?”

Ming Huazhang glanced sidelong after her retreating figure, then withdrew his gaze and said to Wei Zi with composure: “I would ask you to look after her today. It’s cold, and she feels the chill — please give her this hand warmer, and there’s no need to say it came from me.”

Wei Zi took it without ceremony and hugged it to himself, grumbling: “What is wrong with you two? Both of you have things to say that can’t be said directly — one goes running outside, the other sends it through a middleman. Fine, I’ll remember.”

Ming Huazhang’s lips pressed into a thin line. He was like the light of early dawn — pale and faint and transparent, as though the next moment he would be swallowed entirely by daylight. He inclined his head toward Wei Zi with great sincerity. “Thank you.”

Wei Zi waved him off with a casual “you’re welcome” and went loping off after Ren Yao and Ming Huashang. Ming Huazhang watched the three figures disappear, until the officer behind him could not help prompting: “Deputy, the Jing Zhaoyiin is waiting for you.”

Ming Huazhang came back to himself, straightened his robe, and walked forward with long strides: “Let’s go.”

The Jing Zhaoyiin, as the chief official of the Jing Zhaoyiin office, occupied quarters in the most central location. As Ming Huazhang entered, he caught the faintest trace of something metallic in the air — a scent almost too subtle to register. He frowned inwardly, and noticed a cloth balled up beneath the desk leg, stained at the center.

Had the Jing Zhaoyiin’s cough worsened this far?

The Jing Zhaoyiin saw them come in and immediately turned to official business. The thought passed through Ming Huazhang’s mind and was instantly buried beneath the urgency of the case.

“Only two days left on the deadline — any lead on the killer?” the Jing Zhaoyiin asked.

“Not yet,” the head clerk said. “But sixteen wards have still not been searched. The Imperial Guards will cover six of them. I will have our constables push harder on the rest, and aim to complete the search of the entire city by tomorrow.”

Ming Huazhang frowned. “Chang’an has one hundred and eight wards in all. We cannot, and need not, go through every single one. The first victim, Qian Yi, died at the Brocade Tower in the Western Market. The second, Chu Ji, died in the southern section of Chang’an County under the western jurisdiction. The third, Yan Jingcheng, though he lived in the eastern city, kept his main apothecary in the Western Market — which leads me to believe the killer likely resides in the southwestern part of Chang’an. Sending people to search the eastern city, where the powerful and wealthy are concentrated, is a waste of time and personnel. Better to pool all available forces in the western city and re-search the wards around the Western Market.”

Given sufficient time, Ming Huazhang would certainly have favored searching every ward for safety — but with barely two days remaining, rigid adherence to procedure would only cause delays. Better to take a calculated risk and search twice over the area of highest probability.

Besides, it was not entirely a gamble on his part. He genuinely believed the killer would be found near the Western Market.

Chang’an was divided in two by the Avenue of the Vermillion Bird. The eastern city held the Daming Palace, Qujiang Pool, the Pingkang District, the official news offices, and more — and so drew the wealthiest and most powerful residents, with aristocratic households clustered in the northeastern quadrant and most court-granted residences in the southeast. The western city was considerably more ordinary — largely common citizens and foreign merchants in their residences, with only officials of modest career and slender means making their homes there.

No one commits crimes in a place entirely foreign to them. Looking at the killer’s movements, it was clear the western city was the territory he knew.

The Jing Zhaoyiin furrowed his brow. “We are right at the deadline, and there are still sixteen wards we haven’t touched. At this moment, to abandon all that ground and go back over territory we’ve already searched once — isn’t that reckless?”

Ming Huazhang held his ground. “But finding the killer is the entire point. Why do work we already know is pointless?”

The Jing Zhaoyiin considered in silence, then slowly shook his head. “The closer we come to the final moment, the less room there is for recklessness. Proceed according to the original plan. If things move quickly enough and the full city has been covered with time to spare, a second pass is not out of the question.”

Ming Huazhang’s brow knit tight. The reasoning was sound enough — but in practice there would be no time remaining after a full sweep of the city. With a fixed amount of time, limited energy, and limited personnel, how could they afford not to make choices? And yet his view was too much of a gamble for the other officials of the Jing Zhaoyiin office. The Jing Zhaoyiin made his final decision: speed up the search of the remaining wards. Ming Huazhang could not argue his way through it, and fell silent, his chest heavy with a deep and helpless frustration.

Ming Huazhang led his group to the eastern city. He had been through the questioning procedure enough times by now that it ran on its own rhythm — and unsurprisingly, it turned up nothing. Around midday, while the officers and constables rested at the roadside, Ming Huazhang’s thoughts drifted to Ming Huashang, and without quite thinking about it he stopped a child running nearby. “Do you know the Imperial Guard’s uniform when you see it?”

The child had grown up in Chang’an’s streets and lanes, with sharp eyes trained on the world. He answered brightly at once: “I do.”

“Good. Then take this money, buy three cups of five-spice drink, and go find the Imperial Guards searching the western city. Tell them…” Ming Huazhang hesitated, then said: “Actually, don’t say who sent it — just ask the Guards to pass them to Adjutant Wei or Adjutant Ren. The rest of the money is yours.”

The child agreed, grabbed the coins, and ran off. One of the officers nearby spoke up in a hurry: “Deputy, you can’t give the money upfront — he’ll take it and run!”

Ming Huazhang shook his head and said quietly: “It won’t matter. I trust him. Besides, the fact that children this age of ten or so are already out making their own living is a failing of the government to begin with. If he takes the money and runs, it means the court has let him down, and made him unable to trust the outside world. In that case, the money is simply what he’s owed.”

The officer stared at him, then said with genuine feeling: “Deputy, you think too well of people. With a heart this kind, others may not return it in kind — you’ll be taken advantage of.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Ming Huazhang clasped his hands behind his back and looked out at the busy, crowded lanes of Chang’an. He said, almost to himself: “This is what I ought to do. It has nothing to do with anyone else’s response.”

The brief rest ended. Ming Huazhang led his group on to search the next ward — and after a short while someone came to report: “Deputy, there’s a child here asking for you.”

“A child?” Ming Huazhang looked back in surprise and saw the same errand-running boy standing not far off, arms hugging two bamboo tubes, waving to him. Ming Huazhang walked over. “Why have you come back? Were you unable to deliver them?”

“I delivered them,” the child said. “A pretty lady took them. She brought me to the Western Market and bought me two cups of chilled red bean cream, and asked me to bring yours to you.”

The Western Market? Ming Huazhang frowned — weren’t the Imperial Guards supposed to be searching Pinghe and the surrounding wards? What were they doing near the Western Market? He was still mulling this over as he reached out — only for the child to clutch the bamboo tubes closer and announce: “This one’s mine. This one is yours.”

Ming Huazhang paused, then was quietly exasperated. Chilled red bean cream was not cheap — it required milk, sugar, and clean ice, and even in Chang’an it was an indulgence beyond most wealthy households, let alone within reach of children who survived by running small errands. So that was why she had given him chilled cream in the middle of cold weather — she had primarily bought it for the child. He was merely an afterthought.

Ming Huazhang took the bamboo tube with good grace and said to the child: “Thank you.”

The errand was done; the child could no longer resist running his tongue along the sugar-coating of his cream. He asked with interest: “What are all these people here doing? Just now I went to Zhaoguofang looking for you and you were gone — I had to ask all kinds of people before I found out the Jing Zhaoyiin office had moved here.”

Operational details were not to be shared with outsiders. Ming Huazhang said simply: “We’re looking for someone.”

“Who are you looking for?”

Ming Huazhang did not brush the question off just because the questioner was a child. He took out a set of likenesses from his sleeve. “We are looking for several people. A beggar. A man in a cloak. And a man who is peculiar and reclusive, who rarely leaves his home. Do you recognize any of them?”

It was a routine inquiry — Ming Huazhang had no real expectation that a ten-year-old child could help him. To his surprise, the boy studied the likenesses for a moment and pointed to one. “I know him.”

Ming Huazhang was startled. What a stroke of fortune — he had picked a random errand child off the street, and this child happened to know the small beggar who had passed messages for the killer? But on reflection, it made sense — similar age, both running errands across Chang’an. It was not implausible that they knew each other.

“Do you know where he can be found?” Ming Huazhang asked.

“I haven’t seen him in a long time.” The child dug out a large spoonful of cream. “I’ll try to ask around.”

“Good.” Ming Huazhang reached for the Jing Zhaoyiin’s official token, then thought better of it and exchanged it for a jade pendant, which he pressed into the boy’s hand. “If you hear anything, go straight to the Duke Zhenguo household with this and tell the gatekeeper you need to find Ming Huazhang. They will find somewhere to put you up — you need not worry. I will make sure they have chilled cream ready for you.”

The promise of free cream needed no further persuasion. The boy agreed on the spot without hesitation. After he had gone, one of the officers walked over: “Deputy — what was that about?”

Ming Huazhang shook his head slowly. “Nothing. A small wager. Let’s carry on.”

Ming Huazhang seemed to be particularly favored by luck that day. At the shen hour, yet another piece of information came back from a channel he had set in motion long ago, expecting nothing from it. The messenger reported that the county magistrate of Huxian had written to him, and when Ming Huazhang tore open the letter, he found the magistrate claiming credit: in their county’s household register, the names of Song Baiyan’s parents had been located.

Anyone renting or selling a property was required to register their name with the local county office. After Ming Huazhang had sent inquiries to the surrounding counties, a clerk in Huxian had turned the records over at leisure — and had actually found the entry. The official correspondence had been slow, however, and the letter had only now arrived in Ming Huazhang’s hands.

This was an unexpected stroke of good fortune. Ming Huazhang asked: “Has anyone else seen this letter?”

“Not yet,” the messenger said. “Among the dispatches that arrived by official post, I noticed this one was addressed to the Deputy and brought it directly.”

Ming Huazhang was relieved. He held the letter in his hand, glanced at the officers mechanically going through their questions nearby — then, after no more than two breaths of deliberation, made up his mind. “Continue the search according to the current plan. I need to step out. I likely won’t be back tomorrow — please report my absence on my behalf, and if the Jing Zhaoyiin asks, say I had some personal matter to attend to.”

·

Changshou Ward.

Wei Zi had just finished a cup of five-spice drink and found he had absolutely no appetite left for chilled cream. He grumbled: “What is Ming Huazhang thinking, suddenly sending me five-spice drink? If I’d known you were going to treat us to chilled cream, I wouldn’t have drunk his.”

Ming Huashang shot him an unamused glare. “Someone gives you something and instead of being grateful you find fault with them. Don’t eat it next time.”

Wei Zi received an inexplicable scolding, and turned to Ren Yao with a wounded expression. Ren Yao said flatly: “Serves you right for talking too much.” Wei Zi fell silent and took his frustration out on the chilled cream. Changshou Ward was only one ward away from the Western Market, and the streets were lively with foot traffic. Ren Yao looked at the passing crowd, her expression troubled. “We’re more than halfway through the day, and by my count we have only a day and a half left. We’ve abandoned the wards we were originally assigned and come back to comb an area that’s already been searched — isn’t that too much of a gamble?”

Ming Huashang thought for a moment, then shook her head. “Knowing what I know of the killer, I believe there’s a much greater chance he lives near the Western Market. Our ultimate goal is to find the killer — not to complete a citywide search. If that’s the case, why wouldn’t we go where the probability is highest?”

Ren Yao considered this and nodded in agreement. “This area was originally covered by the Jing Zhaoyiin office — the Imperial Guards haven’t been here. We should find someone who knows the area to show us around.”

Meanwhile, in the eastern city, the Zhang household was a world away from the urgency of the manhunt.

A sharp crack of shattering porcelain sliced through the stillness. Zhang Changzong shot to his feet, fury written across his face. “Is this true?”

“It is true,” Li Chongfu said. “Duke Ye, I heard it very clearly. After Prince Shao returned from Princess Taiping’s banquet, he said many unpleasant things about you to Princess Yongtai and her husband. From what they said, both Prince Shao and the Prince Wei heir had critical things to say about His Majesty as well — as though they felt His Majesty had given you too much power. They also said…”

Zhang Changzong’s voice turned icy. “What else did they say?”

Li Chongfu bowed his head. “They also said that you and Duke Henguo learned only the arts of serving and entertaining — not the arts of governance — and have no business meddling in affairs of state.”

A crash rang out. Zhang Changzong swept the tray of fruits and silver dishes from the table in a fury. Cherries rolled in every direction. Zhang Yizhi glanced at his younger brother with cool eyes and said: “Six, listening to music requires stillness. You are too easily agitated.”

Zhang Changzong laughed with contempt. “Someone is pointing at my face and insulting us — I am in no mood to listen to music. After all the effort I spent speaking well of Prince Wei, his son repays me by speaking this way behind my back. What a heartless, shameless ingrate.”

Zhang Yizhi’s gaze darkened. He looked toward Li Chongfu and said: “Thank you, Prince Ping’en, for this report. When others attack the two of us, you alone have always been willing to speak up for us. We do not know how to repay your loyalty.”

Li Chongfu said: “It is only what I should do. Duke Henguo and Duke Ye need not be so formal. I have been away from the palace too long; my stepmother may find fault with me if I delay further. I shall take my leave now, and come again another day to pay my respects to the Dukes.”

Zhang Yizhi kept up his air of polished refinement, inclining his head: “Take care, Prince Ping’en. It was a rushed visit today — there was no time to exchange words with Yun-niang. Please convey my regards to her on our behalf.”

Yun-niang was Li Chongfu’s principal consort — and also a niece of the two Zhang brothers. Li Chongfu had come to the Zhang residence today under the guise of his wife returning home to visit family. Li Chongfu acknowledged this and took his leave.

After Li Chongfu had gone, Zhang Yizhi’s manner chilled entirely. He said sharply: “Six — you were discussing our dealings with Prince Wei right in front of Prince Ping’en. What were you thinking?”

Zhang Changzong gave a contemptuous snort. “He’s nothing but a lesser son — his birth mother is out of favor, the Crown Prince takes no notice of him. I trust he wouldn’t dare breathe a word.”

“He is still the Crown Prince’s son,” Zhang Yizhi replied, unmoved. “Six — times are not what they were at the height of our favor. If you don’t change this habit of speaking without restraint, it will be the ruin of us both one day.”

Zhang Changzong laughed bitterly. “The ruin is already being prepared — not in the future. Even now there are those who resent us, who want our power stripped back. His Majesty is still in good health, yet people already dare to dismiss us so openly. If we do not make an example of this now, who knows how they will treat us later? I want them to understand: so long as I, Zhang Changzong, hold power — whether His Majesty is strong or ailing, living or dead — the Zhang family will not fall.”

Zhang Yizhi knew his younger brother well. The moment he heard this, he understood something had already been decided. He frowned: “What are you planning to do?”

“Only to return the favor in kind — to report their words to His Majesty.” Zhang Changzong narrowed his eyes, and set his foot down on one of the bright-red cherries, grinding it slowly beneath his heel. “Let us see, then, whether their arts of governance are truly greater than my arts of serving.”