Li Huazhang and Ming Huashang came out from the guards’ quarters. The sky had grown overcast; layer upon layer of clouds pressed down, as if it might snow again. Li Huazhang gave orders to have Old Master Feng’s body and the key pieces of evidence transferred to the prefectural office, stationed officers to guard the crime scene, and once all this was done, Feng Yi still had not sent the list of Feng estate personnel.

Li Huazhang and Ming Huashang had no choice but to go to the inner courtyard themselves. They had gone to find Feng Yi as their first stop of the day; after a full half-day, his list had only just made its tardy arrival.

The Feng family pressed them to stay, and stay again; Li Huazhang’s manner was pleasant but his refusal was absolute. When they finally climbed into the carriage for the ride back to the prefectural office, Ming Huashang let out a long, relieved breath — only then did she feel how thoroughly, devastatingly exhausted she was.

Li Huazhang had not ridden today and was with her in the carriage. He saw that the moment she got in she stopped talking and knew she was spent; he drew her against his knee and gently rubbed her temples: “Rest if you are tired. I will wake you when we arrive.”

They had slept only two hours last night, and the whole day had been one round of questioning after another. Ming Huashang felt as though needles were pricking in her temples. But she still forced herself to rally and said to Li Huazhang: “You rest too — you do not need to look after me.”

Li Huazhang gave a quiet hum of acknowledgment, but his hands did not stop. The warm pressure of those long, slender fingers against her temples brought an enormous measure of relief from the drilling pain inside her head. Ming Huashang closed her eyes and, without quite realizing it, drifted off.

When Ming Huashang became aware again, she was being carried in someone’s arms along a covered walkway, her whole body swathed in a large, soft cloak with only her face exposed. The familiar buildings of the prefectural compound surrounded her; the plants and flowers in the garden had been put there by her own hands.

Ming Huashang struggled to free her hands from inside the cloak and wrapped her arms around the neck before her: “Did you not say you would wake me?”

“It is only a short distance — it does not matter.” Li Huazhang looked down and asked: “Did the wind wake you?”

Ming Huashang shook her head. This cloak must have been fetched from the prefectural office at Li Huazhang’s instruction; the fabric was soft and dry, saturated with the familiar, clean, wide-open scent of cedar — the same as him. Ming Huashang buried her face in the familiar fragrance and blurted out: “Have I put on weight?”

Li Huazhang paused, thinking he had not heard correctly: “Pardon?”

Ming Huashang thought of her increasingly unrestricted eating since getting married and felt a surge of private anxiety: “It is winter — I have been eating a lot lately. Have I gotten fat?”

Li Huazhang smiled despite himself; his arms tightened around her as he stepped over the threshold with ease: “No.”

Li Huazhang carried Ming Huashang into the room. The maids had received word and were ready; they moved in smooth coordination — pouring hot water, bringing pastries, fetching clothes. Ming Huashang changed her outer garments for fresh, fragrant ones she wore at home and sat on the couch with a bowl of hot ginger tea; only then did she feel she had come back to life.

Li Huazhang had also changed into a plain round-collared robe in teal-green. Being at home, he had not put on his sash; the soft fabric followed the lines of his body, the contours of his slender, lean waist hinted at rather than revealed, his movements like willow branches in the wind or green pines in the snow — a pleasure to watch in every way. Li Huazhang sat down and reached out to feel Ming Huashang’s cheek, then relaxed: “Better now. Earlier you were so cold all over — I was worried you were falling ill.”

Ming Huashang felt a bowl of hot tea fill her from within, and then ate several of Jin Bao’s pastries; she felt as if she had been restored to full strength: “I am fine — my constitution is as strong as an ox. I never get ill!”

That was a rather ungraceful way to describe herself. Li Huazhang was resigned; seeing her stuff one cake after another into her mouth, he said: “Do not eat so much — we are about to have a meal.”

“It is fine.” Ming Huashang waved him off airily: “Am I the type to eat two pastries and then not be able to eat dinner? Do not worry — it has absolutely no effect.”

Li Huazhang gave her a look of quiet resignation and told the maids to set the meal. The food the Feng household had prepared had been no small banquet, but it was still most comfortable eating at home. After a hot, hearty meal, Ming Huashang’s energy was restored and her mind could work again.

She took the sachet out from her old clothes: “This is a sachet Old Master Feng used before. Do you still have the medicine Baozhu filled for us?”

“I have it.”

“Good.” Ming Huashang said: “Take this old sachet, the medicine Baozhu just had prepared, and that formula she wrote out — all together to the physician to examine. See if all three are the same, and whether there is any poison in them.”

The medicine Baozhu had prepared for them was most likely harmless; the crucial item was the sachet that Old Master Feng had been wearing when he died. That sachet had already been brought back as evidence, and Li Huazhang had immediately sent someone to test it upon their return. He took the old sachet and said to the attendant: “Send this to the coroner and have him focus particularly on this sachet and the sachet that was found on Feng Rong’s person.”

The attendant accepted the order and withdrew. The maids quietly filed out one by one until the room held only the two of them, and they could speak more freely. Ming Huashang asked: “Any new developments from the body?”

“Nothing yet. The coroner found no wounds, which is consistent with our assessment last night — it appears to be poisoning. But what specific poison it is would be difficult to say.”

Ming Huashang thought as she spoke: “Old Master Feng had no wounds on his body, was in everyone’s sight the whole time he was alive before his death, and was never seen to come into contact with anyone. Either someone poisoned his food and drink in advance, with a delayed effect that took until the hour of Zi to work — or in the moments when the fireworks went off and most of the guards were drawn away, someone slipped inside and killed Old Master Feng. If it is the former, anyone who had contact with his food and drink could be the killer, with Feng Kun — who personally carried the tea up, was alone with Old Master Feng, and afterwards ‘accidentally’ knocked over the teapot — being the primary suspect. If it is the latter, the guards watching the Star-Picking Tower are very suspicious, and the guards have been under Feng Yi’s full charge; the fact that today he also delayed handing in the name list means he too very likely has a connection to Old Master Feng’s death.”

Li Huazhang pointed out: “We discovered Old Master Feng was dead at the hour of Zi — that does not necessarily mean the poison took effect at the hour of Zi. At the third quarter of the hour of Hai, he stood up to drink tea — that is the last time we saw him move. From then until the hour of Zi he lay motionless in the reclining chair; it is quite possible the poison took effect during that period.”

“That is also possible.” Ming Huashang tried as hard as she could to hold herself back, but finally could not help saying: “When the poison took effect, he looked so undisturbed — reclining in the chair, motionless, as if he were sleeping?”

Li Huazhang sighed: “Which is why identifying the cause of death is the most urgent thing. Precisely what poison killed him — that is what matters most.”

Ming Huashang was not skilled at examining bodies, and even less skilled at toxicology. She returned to what she did best and, calling to mind the layout of the third floor of the Star-Picking Tower, tried to reconstruct the killer’s profile from the crime scene in reverse: “This killer is very different from the ones before. The crime scene is too ordinary — it is almost impossible to see any trace of a killing.”

Li Huazhang asked: “Is it because the killer was so meticulous and careful that no trace was left?”

“No.” Ming Huashang shook her head. “Yu Qiong at the Tianxiang Tower — she was careful enough, was she not? And there was also Liao Yushan, who announced his killings to the authorities in advance — he was meticulous enough, was he not? But both of their crime scenes had been stripped of identifying details and timeline clues yet still bore extensive evidence of the killing itself. Put it this way: walking into the Tianxiang Tower or the explosion site, you could sense immediately that someone had died there. But the Old Master Feng case is different. The third floor of the Star-Picking Tower is too ordinary — going in, you would only think someone had been living there; it is very hard to see it as the scene of a murder. Either the killer was extremely careful — or they knew Old Master Feng very well.”

“So it must be an insider — no doubt about it.” Li Huazhang said: “I feel the same. There is no such person as the Nimble Hand — or rather, the so-called ‘Nimble Hand’ is someone from inside the Feng estate. The whole business of the Thief Saint sending a letter three days before to announce he would come and steal the treasure was a charade they cooked up themselves.”

Ming Huashang also thought so. From the moment, three days ago, when word spread so quickly that the Thief Saint was coming to steal from the Feng estate, she had been a little suspicious. The storytellers in the teahouses gave vivid, detailed accounts of how the Thief Saint was capable of miracles, how he had come and gone as he pleased through layer upon layer of guards to leave a letter at Old Master Feng’s bedside — but the only people who knew the details of that letter were the authorities, the Feng household, and the Thief Saint himself. Li Huazhang and Ming Huashang had not disclosed anything to anyone; the Thief Saint still had not gotten his hands on the Marquis of Sui’s Pearl and had no reason to go around publicizing the details himself. That left only the Feng household.

“But why?” Ming Huashang could not understand: “They already had the Marquis of Sui’s Pearl — why not simply keep it quietly at home and profit from it in silence? Why fabricate a Thief Saint and broadcast it to the entire world?”

“It is nothing more than the pursuit of fame and fortune.” Li Huazhang said: “The Feng Family has wealth but no standing. They wanted to use the Marquis of Sui’s Pearl to elevate their family’s reputation, and then have it stolen by the ‘Thief Saint’ in full view of the public — so they could gain both face and substance: reputation on the outside, treasure secured on the inside. What they did not anticipate was that their scheme worked too well: a real person saw an opportunity and moved against them, exploiting the very trap they had laid to kill Old Master Feng and take the Marquis of Sui’s Pearl, leaving a scapegoat in a Thief Saint who does not even exist.”

Ming Huashang raised an eyebrow: “You suspect Feng Kun?”

“No — Feng Yi.” Li Huazhang said: “Feng Kun wants to seize the family estate, and he does have motive. But as the eldest son, the Feng family’s assets would naturally fall to him the moment Old Master Feng died; his motive exists, but was not so urgent. If he were truly the killer and personally delivered poisoned tea, that would be remarkably foolish. Feng Yi is different: while Old Master Feng was alive, he held real power, but the moment Old Master Feng died, he would only be working to benefit someone else. He would want to use his time managing household affairs to transfer as much as possible before the end, so he also has a motive for stealing the Marquis of Sui’s Pearl.”

That was logical — but not quite enough to convince Ming Huashang: “It is certainly in Feng Yi’s interest to do so, but the disadvantages outweigh the benefits. Old Master Feng favored him so deeply — he could perfectly well manage the household and secretly transfer assets at the same time. What benefit was there to him in killing the Old Master?”

“That is something we would have to ask him himself.” Li Huazhang said: “He was responsible for guarding the Star-Picking Tower — he would know better than anyone whether anyone had entered. But he still insists it was the Nimble Hand who stole the goods and killed the person. If he had nothing to hide, why would he lie? And I asked him to compile a list of everyone in the Feng estate’s outer household. I have just looked at the list — the number of people on it is far less than the actual number.”

“Is that so?” Ming Huashang took the list and turned through the pages one by one. “How do you know the numbers are short?”

“I made an estimate during the patrols last night.” Li Huazhang said: “A large number of jianghu figures and able-bodied young men suddenly flooding into Shangzhou, all armed — of course I would look into that carefully. The Feng household was recruiting in the name of guarding the treasure. I had already suspected they had another purpose. Today Feng Yi concealing the true numbers confirms that their intentions were not above board.”

It was true: whatever the manner of Old Master Feng’s death, Feng Yi’s repeated lies were certainly not a normal response. Ming Huashang asked: “If you suspect him, why are you still leaving him in the Feng estate?”

“There are too many people of uncertain origin in the Feng household — we should not flush the prey before it is ready.” Li Huazhang said: “Besides, right now this is all only my suspicion; there is no evidence to prove Feng Yi has done anything. Better to leave him in place: when we understand clearly what he is trying to do, it will not be too late to act.”

“All right.” Ming Huashang nodded: “Tomorrow, let us go back to the Feng estate and have another look. I want to see what tricks Feng Yi is actually trying to play.”

On the morning of the fifth day of the twelfth month, the city gates finally reopened, though everyone entering and leaving had to have their identity checked — the inspection was extremely thorough. As the citizens queued at the city gates, they were all talking about the death at the Feng estate.

The Feng household was now the hottest topic in Shangzhou. The Thief Saint had originally sent the Feng family a letter naming a specific date — the Zi hour on the fourth day of the twelfth month — to steal the Marquis of Sui’s Pearl; this alone had already made the Feng estate the center of great attention. The Feng household had been on a war footing ever since, its posture making everyone’s expectations soar to their highest — and then what? The Marquis of Sui’s Pearl had been kept in a high tower and surrounded from all sides, yet it was still stolen by the Thief Saint; and Old Master Feng, who had been keeping watch beside his treasure, had died under mysterious circumstances with the cause of death still unknown, in full view of everyone.

The whole affair had it all — jewels, a Thief Saint, death — strange and fantastical, and it set the citizens’ appetite for gossip instantly ablaze. Teahouses and restaurants everywhere were full of people arguing over the case. Some said it was that miraculously gifted Thief Saint who had stolen the Marquis of Sui’s Pearl and killed for it in front of all eyes. Others said it was the Feng family’s two sons fighting over the estate, battling fiercely to the death. Still others said it was the work of a ghost — the Marquis of Sui’s Pearl had passed through the hands of various royal palaces across many dynasties, and the soul of some long-dead princess was attached to it; she was absorbing the vital essence of those who owned it to take revenge for the destruction of her kingdom.

The speculation toward the end became more and more outlandish, veering steadily toward the fantastical and sensational. While the street gossips were embroidering the romantic escapades of every princess and royal consort who had ever owned the Marquis of Sui’s Pearl, the prefect of Shangzhou was boarding his carriage with his wife to go and investigate the case at the Feng estate.

When the door wardens of the Feng estate saw the Prince of Yong and the Princess of Yong had come again, they hurried forward to receive them. Li Huazhang took Ming Huashang inside and said to the Feng household servants: “Is your Second Young Master available? There are some things I would like to ask him.”

“Yes, yes. Your Highness the Prince of Yong, please wait — this servant will go and call Second Young Master at once.”

Li Huazhang and Ming Huashang waited in the main hall for the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, but there was still no sign of Feng Yi. The Feng household servants grew somewhat embarrassed and said hurriedly: “Second Young Master may be busy — he will be here very shortly. Please forgive us, Your Highness — this servant will go and send someone to hurry him.”

“No need to trouble yourself.” Li Huazhang stood and said, quite without inflection: “If he is busy, we will go and find him.”

Li Huazhang and Ming Huashang knew the way to the inner courtyard; they went in through the inner gate and went straight to Feng Yi’s residence. When they arrived, however, the Second Mistress came out to meet them, looking very flustered: “However have the two Highnesses come all this way in person — I have already sent someone to find Second Young Master, but he was in a bad mood last night and did not sleep in his room; he went to the water pavilion to clear his head. That girl Zi Yu — the water pavilion is practically right next to the inner courtyard, and she is dawdling this badly, with the Prince of Yong and the Princess of Yong here?”

Ming Huashang heard that Feng Yi was not in and instinctively felt something odd: “Feng Yi did not come back last night? He stayed outside?”

“That is right. After Your Highnesses left yesterday, Second Young Master said he was in low spirits and wanted to go to the water pavilion for a while. After dark I sent someone to call him back; he said he was unsettled and wanted to sit quietly with his wine for a while and would not come back that night.” The Second Mistress even began to talk to herself: “How much can he have drunk last night? It has been this long and the wine is still not off? Both of you, please forgive me — Second Young Master may have drunk too much. This concubine will go to the water pavilion to find him; please wait just a moment, Your Highnesses.”

Ming Huashang and Li Huazhang exchanged a glance. Ming Huashang said: “Second Mistress, please do not trouble yourself — we will come along.”

The Second Mistress very much did not want an outsider to witness Feng Yi drunk, but with the Prince of Yong and the Princess of Yong insisting, she could say nothing further. She wore a warm, welcoming expression outwardly while giving her trusted maid a pointed look — signaling her to run ahead to the water pavilion and alert Feng Yi.

Ming Huashang saw all this and pretended not to notice. The party made their way through the garden, crossed the winding wooden walkway over the water, and came to the water pavilion. There were already a great many people inside; the maids were calling out for Second Young Master in every direction. The Second Mistress saw this and her eyelid twitched: “Still have not found Second Young Master?”

“No.” The maid shook her head, eyes downcast, not daring to meet the Second Mistress’s gaze: “Sister Zi Yu said Second Young Master is not in the water pavilion and asked us to help look.”

“Not in the water pavilion?” The Second Mistress’s brow was tightly drawn. “That is impossible. Second Young Master clearly said yesterday he was in the water pavilion drinking — how can he not be there?”

Ming Huashang and Li Huazhang looked at one another without comment, reading the same suspicion in each other’s eyes. Could it be that Feng Yi had fled? Li Huazhang was about to call people to search the city when from behind the water pavilion there came a high, piercing scream that seemed to cut straight through the eardrums.

“Ahhh!”

Li Huazhang reacted fastest and ran at once toward the source of the sound. Ming Huashang gathered her skirts and followed close behind. The two of them passed through the water pavilion to the fishing platform at the back, where they saw a maid on the ground, fallen there in shock, her face chalk-white and her whole body trembling uncontrollably.

Li Huazhang signaled Ming Huashang to be careful, then slowly circled past the maid and looked down into the water.

The lake had frozen in the overnight chill, the water turned a deep, black-tinged blue. Dried lotus stalks lay scattered across the surface, their leaves coated with frost, as though the moment of their last decline had been sealed in ice just as it arrived. Far beneath the dark green surface of the water, through the stems of the withered lotus, there was visible a face — bloated and white from soaking, swollen beyond recognition.

It was the person they had been looking for — Second Young Master of the Feng household, Feng Yi.