In the chamber, a wooden tub sat behind the folding screen, white steam rising in plumes. The mandarin ducks painted on the screen seemed almost to be swimming. Tiānxiāng Pavilion had made the screen deliberately translucent for a certain ambiance — when someone bathed behind it, a shadowy silhouette could be glimpsed from outside, an effect of half-concealed beauty, like a pipa only partly shielding its player’s face.

Naturally, even if the screen had been completely opaque, Jiang Ling would not have used it.

Misty warmth filled the room. It was a fine spring night, and the three figures in the room faced each other in silence, seemingly full of tender feeling.

In reality, all three were simply staring at each other in a standoff, nobody willing to move first, nobody speaking. Finally, Jiang Ling could hold on no longer; he broke down with a look that was embarrassed and faintly aggrieved, and said, “So — can we discuss what we’re going to do next?”

“If you want to bathe, just bathe,” Ming Huashang said. “It’s not as though I’ll be watching.”

Ren Yao yawned. “Exactly. Hurry up — what is there for a grown man to be so hesitant about when taking a bath?”

Jiang Ling felt a mysterious and inexplicable sense of crisis, as though his purity was in danger. He silently clutched his collar. “It’s not the bathing — but what are we doing tonight?”

“Why didn’t you just say so.” Ren Yao shot to her feet and walked toward the bed, rolling her shoulders. “Bathe, don’t bathe — either way. I’ve never seen anyone drag things out like you. If we’re not sleeping, what else are we supposed to do at night? We’ve been running around all day — I’ve been tired for ages.”

Jiang Ling watched in growing alarm as Ren Yao headed straight for the room’s only bed. “Wait — stop right there!”

Ren Yao paused and looked back at him. Her expression plainly said: you had better actually have something to say.

Jiang Ling stuttered for a long moment, then screwed up his courage and said, “There’s also a chaise over here.”

“I’m sleeping on that,” Ming Huashang reminded him lightly. “Jiang Ling, don’t feel burdened by this. Ren-jie and I have talked it over — we trust you. You don’t need to worry about male-female propriety.”

“I care!” The very thought of sharing a room with Ren Yao made Jiang Ling’s whole body revolt. “She’s a woman after all — how could I sleep in the same room with her? If word got out, I’d have to marry her!”

“Silence!” Ren Yao’s face flushed scarlet. She grabbed a bolster pillow and hurled it straight at Jiang Ling’s face. “Who in the world wants to share a room with you?”

Jiang Ling was caught completely off-guard and was knocked to the floor. He shoved the pillow away angrily and opened his eyes to find Ming Huashang looking down at him from above with a warm and benevolent expression. She said, “What were you imagining? I meant: Ren-jie sleeps in the bed, I sleep on the chaise, and you sleep on the floor.”

Jiang Ling stared, then grew even more indignant. “On what grounds?”

He had been pampered from birth — spoiled, yes, but still a pampered young master. He had always had people blowing his soup cool before it touched his lips. When had he ever been subjected to such mistreatment?

Ming Huashang said, “There’s only one bed and one chaise. Someone has to sleep on the floor. You’re the only male present — surely you wouldn’t make the two of us, the weaker women, sleep on the ground?”

She only remembered they were weaker women when it was convenient — Jiang Ling was furious enough to fume. Ming Huashang saw he was about at his limit and pulled back with a smile. “All right, I’m teasing you. Ren-jie and I will squeeze into the bed together — you take the chaise.”

That was more like it. Jiang Ling picked himself up off the floor with his pillow, and Ming Huashang, out of a sense of comradely duty, reached out to help him up. Just as Jiang Ling was about to close his fingers around hers, a knock sounded at the door.

“Guest, the water will go cold — are you finished?”

That was Ming Huazhang’s voice! Ming Huashang’s heart leapt with delight; by reflex she pulled back her hand. Jiang Ling hadn’t expected it and pitched forward with a heavy thump, landing even harder on the floor.

Ming Huashang didn’t so much as glance at the man on the ground — she stepped right over Jiang Ling and ran eagerly toward the door. “Coming, coming!”

Ming Huashang opened it. Outside stood a male servant, eyes downcast. He said quietly, “The madam was afraid the water would go cold and sent me to ask if there’s anything else the guests require.”

“We’ve finished washing,” Ming Huashang said. “Come in and take the tub away.”

We?

Ming Huazhang suppressed a frown, kept his expression calm, and entered the room as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

Jiang Ling and Ren Yao looked strangely at the doorway — why had Ming Huashang just let someone in? Not that it mattered, but this person did look somewhat familiar.

Jiang Ling was rubbing his backside in pain, and said hesitantly, “Darling, who is this…?”

Ming Huazhang lifted his head, and for just an instant cold light shot from his eyes. “What did you call her?”

Good — now Jiang Ling was certain. This person was definitely familiar. He studied Ming Huazhang’s face and his own expression turned to near-horror. “How did you end up looking like this?”

Ming Huazhang said coolly, without the least flicker of emotion, “You were sent here to investigate a case — not to carouse. What exactly have you been doing?”

Ming Huashang looked around the room. At this moment, tall red candles were burning and misty warmth filled the air; Jiang Ling lay on the floor in a state of disarray, clutching a pillow and inelegantly rubbing his backside. The scene did look rather indecent.

Ming Huashang hurried to explain: “Second elder brother, don’t misunderstand — Jiang Ling’s foot slipped and he accidentally fell. This has nothing to do with us.”

Jiang Ling’s eyes went wide, and before he could protest at Ming Huashang calling herself innocent, he heard Ming Huazhang say, “I wasn’t talking about you — I was asking him. What did you just call her?”

Jiang Ling blinked, and finally understood — they were birds of a feather after all. He gave a disdainful “hmph” and sprawled on the floor with defiant ease, lazily bouncing one foot in the air. “Darling. She’s my favored maidservant — if I can’t call her darling, am I supposed to call her beloved concubine?”

He was practically stomping all over Ming Huazhang’s most dangerous ground. Ming Huazhang’s gaze went cold. “You’ve read books for enough years — are you incapable of coming up with two characters for a false name?”

“The more false names, the easier it is to make mistakes — what if I slip up when I’m in a hurry?” Jiang Ling slid a glance at Ming Huazhang out of the corner of his eye. “Besides, we’ve been calling her that all day. You’re just her brother, not her husband. She doesn’t even mind — what are you unhappy about?”

Ming Huazhang fixed Jiang Ling with a long, steady look. His fingers seemed to twitch slightly. Ming Huashang quickly tried to smooth things over: “Second elder brother, let it go — it’s just a name. I really don’t mind.”

Ming Huazhang looked back at her. Ming Huashang felt an inexplicable chill run down her spine.

She felt she had been quite broad-minded and considerate of the bigger picture — so why was her brother displeased?

Ren Yao could see that Ming Huazhang’s expression was off. She pulled out another pillow and gave Jiang Ling an impatient thwack. “Sit up properly. You’ve arrived at just the right time — we’ve found out some things and were just about to report them to you.”

Jiang Ling sat cross-legged with poor grace. Ming Huazhang settled into the seat Ming Huashang had been using; even with a cold expression he did not lose his composure, and asked with calm clarity, “What things?”

Ming Huashang sat beside Ming Huazhang in a tidy, well-behaved little bundle. She reached up to pour him a cup of tea and was stopped when Ming Huazhang pressed the back of her hand: “Don’t pour it. Three people in here and four tea cups used — an outsider will spot the inconsistency.”

Ming Huashang froze. “Then how will you drink anything?”

Ming Huazhang said mildly, “I’ll use yours.”

Ming Huazhang’s voice was so low it was like snow falling through spring air — Jiang Ling and Ren Yao caught none of it. Even if they had, they wouldn’t have thought twice about it; two siblings sharing a cup was perfectly ordinary.

Ming Huashang, on the other hand, went still.

Using the same cup? She looked instinctively at her own tea things — the rim of the pale bluish-grey celadon saucer seemed to still hold the faint sheen of moisture. Ming Huashang’s ears turned hot all at once. She told herself firmly that this was perfectly normal between siblings, suppressed her discomfort, and refilled the cup.

The pale celadon cup sat right in front of Ming Huazhang, but his attention seemed to be entirely on what Ren Yao was saying, and he did not reach for it. Ren Yao summarized the most important points: “After Ming Huashang went out today, we stayed in the suite and coaxed the madam into talking. We learned something rather unexpected — though we’re not sure how important it is. It turns out Yùqióng is actually from an official’s family. When she was four, her family became entangled in a political struggle at court, and that is how she ended up in this place.”

Ming Huazhang’s eyes grew somber. “What was her father’s name?”

“That we don’t know. But apparently her original surname was Zhao, and her father was once regarded as a man of principle and integrity at court — yet sixteen years ago, during the Crown Prince Zhānghùai’s rebellion, her father was found to be a co-conspirator and sentenced harshly. Her father and brothers were executed, the other male relatives banished three thousand li, and the female members of the family were confiscated and sent to the Entertainment Bureau. Her mother and sister died not long after entering the Bureau, and she is the only member of the family left alive.”

Upon hearing how catastrophically Yùqióng’s entire family had fallen, Ming Huashang couldn’t help but let out a sigh — and missed the way Ming Huazhang’s fingers tightened sharply beside her.

Ming Huazhang asked, “Her father was actually a close confidant of Crown Prince Zhānghùai?”

“Perhaps.” Ren Yao shrugged. “Sixteen years ago was still the Yǒnghuī era — Gaozong was gravely ill, the court was full of rumors and dangers, and people were swept into factional struggles every day. Who knows what the true circumstances of their family were?”

Ming Huashang echoed with a sigh, “That’s right — sixteen years ago, we had only just been born.”

“You two?” Jiang Ling, for some reason, always focused on the extraneous details. “You’re only sixteen this year?”

“That’s right.” Ming Huashang pointed to Ming Huazhang. “You probably won’t believe it, but my elder brother is the second youngest in our group.”

Jiang Ling, Ren Yao, and Xie Jichuan were all seventeen. Ming Huazhang and Ming Huashang were twins, only sixteen this year.

Jiang Ling and Ren Yao both looked at Ming Huazhang as though they’d seen a ghost. It was no wonder they were startled — Ming Huazhang gave off an air of such steadiness and dependability, and Ming Huashang had been referring to him as her elder brother so constantly, that without realizing it both of them had come to regard Ming Huazhang as a senior. Yet Ming Huazhang was actually a year younger than they were?

Jiang Ling suddenly felt rather useless. Ren Yao too was filled with a sense of urgency. Ming Huazhang gave a quiet cough. “Don’t digress — continue with the matter of the top courtesan.”

Ren Yao continued: “There’s not much else to tell, really. The madam said Yùqióng was extraordinarily gifted — she studied diligently at the Entertainment Bureau, and by thirteen she had achieved complete mastery. Her talent for music and painting is unequaled, and her water-transfer painting technique is entirely her own; not even the disciples of Master Yǎn can match it. Yùqióng is proud, though — she says music can be heard by anyone, but painting cannot be understood by everyone. So she only demonstrates her painting skill to those with a genuine understanding of art, and the water-transfer method she will not show regardless of the price offered, unless the person meets her own standard. The only time recently she performed the water-transfer technique was apparently for Zhang Ziyun — which is why Zhang Ziyun was so overcome with joy that he abandoned his earthly body and sent his soul to live inside the painting.”

Ming Huashang listened and exclaimed at how remarkable it was. Ming Huazhang lowered his lashes, silent in thought. Jiang Ling said, “Actually, I’ve been wanting to ask — what is the water-transfer painting technique?”

Ren Yao’s eyelashes fluttered rapidly and she went blank. Ming Huashang shook her head with perfect honesty: “Don’t look at me — I can’t play, compose, paint, or draw. I genuinely don’t know.”

Jiang Ling clicked his tongue slowly. “And here I thought I was the only one who didn’t know. So you two don’t know either? And yet you were both nodding along and saying how impressive it was?”

Ren Yao’s face went red. “What business is it of yours?”

Ming Huazhang came back to himself. “It is a painting technique — you paint on water, then use raw xuan paper to absorb the ink. I don’t know the specifics myself; we can have Xie Jichuan demonstrate it for you another time.”

Every expression on Jiang Ling’s face migrated to the wrong position on his head, and his feelings were complicated. “He even knows how to do that?”

“If he doesn’t, he can learn,” Ming Huazhang said with serene calm, as though he were suggesting something perfectly ordinary.

Jiang Ling went speechless. Ming Huazhang continued, “I still can’t confirm whether what happened to Shanchá has anything to do with the killer, but to be safe, none of you should sleep tonight. Keep close watch on the Romantic Contemplation Suite. My suspicion is that the killer will visit the scene tonight. Whatever method was used to create the locked-room illusion, we need only watch the Romantic Contemplation Suite and we can wait for them to walk into our trap.”

Both Ming Huashang and Ren Yao agreed. Ming Huashang quietly reproached herself — why hadn’t she thought of the waiting-at-the-crossing strategy herself? Then she heard Ming Huazhang say, “All three of you are crowded into one room — your angle of observation is too limited to monitor the Romantic Contemplation Suite properly. The best arrangement would be to divide into two rooms: have Ming Huashang move to the Flower-Piled Brocade Suite across the way.”

Everyone in the room went still. Ming Huashang was the first to react, her alarm evident. “Second elder brother — that won’t do. The Flower-Piled Brocade Suite is right next door to the scene of the crime!”

“I know.” Ming Huazhang glanced at her calmly. “The perpetrator is human, not a demon or a ghost. Are you too frightened to stay there?”

Ming Huashang was at a loss for words.

She firmly believed that a clean conscience feared no shadow, that there were no ghosts in this world, only malicious people — yet the prospect of staying right next to the room where someone had died was, truthfully, rather daunting.

Ming Huashang tried to salvage the situation. “Actually I could just…”

Stay here with Jiang Ling and Ren Yao — she genuinely didn’t care about the propriety of it. Before she could finish, Ming Huazhang cut her off without warning: “If you’re truly frightened, I’ll keep you company.”