After finishing breakfast, Ren Yao returned to bed to catch up on sleep. Jiang Ling had been keeping watch on Tianxiang Tower, but as he looked around, his gaze drifted inexplicably to Ren Yao.
During the day Ren Yao was brash and fierce, but asleep she was unexpectedly docile and harmless. She lay on her side, legs slightly curled up against her chest, like an infant in the womb.
It was a posture that spoke of deep insecurity — was she afraid of something even in her dreams?
Jiang Ling did not even realize how long he had been staring at Ren Yao, his mind wandering. He found himself thinking that the peonies in Luoyang must be in full bloom right now, a pity they could not go see them this year; then he thought about Chang’an, which had so many famous temples and ancient sites — he wondered whether Qujiang Pool was worth visiting…
A sudden sound came from the doorway. Jiang Ling snapped back to his senses at once and instinctively stood up with his hand on his blade. The door was pushed open a crack, and a figure slipped nimbly inside. The person looked up, saw Jiang Ling standing there tense and ready to draw, and froze: “What are you doing?”
Jiang Ling saw that it was Ming Huashang, and slowly came to his senses: “Oh, it’s you.”
“Yes, it is.” Ming Huashang looked at him with surprise. “My second elder brother just gave the signal whistle just now — didn’t you hear it?”
Jiang Ling’s breath caught. Ming Huashang took one look at his expression and understood: “Don’t tell me — at such a critical moment, you were daydreaming? We are in the middle of a mission. What on earth were you thinking about?”
Jiang Ling was embarrassed. He truly did not know why his mind had wandered so badly that he had heard nothing at all. He said: “Keep your voice down — she’s still sleeping.”
But Ren Yao had already heard the commotion and was groggily sitting up: “Who’s there?”
After Ming Huashang heard Ming Huazhang’s signal, she had immediately told her elder brother that Xie Jichuan had gone to examine the medicine. Ming Huazhang went to find Xie Jichuan; Ming Huashang came to wait in Jiang Ling and Ren Yao’s room and told them what had happened that morning.
“The mute servant actually put medicine in the wine?”
“Not entirely the mute servant.” Ming Huashang said. “The true mastermind was the madam.”
Ren Yao was not sure whether her mind was still foggy from sleep or whether the turn of events was simply too bizarre. She stared blankly for a moment, truly unable to make sense of it: “Why would the madam do something like that?”
Ming Huashang shook her head: “Hard to say. Let’s wait for the results from Second Brother and Brother Xie. If the autopsy confirms that Zhang Ziyun died from Overlapping Dream Powder, we can arrest the madam and ask her the reason ourselves.”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible just yet.” A thin, cool, sardonic voice suddenly came from outside the window. All three turned their heads and saw that the window had been pushed open at some unknown moment, and a figure was perched on the sill, watching them with a half-smile.
A second figure in dark clothing dropped lightly through the gap and landed on the floor, saying without inflection: “Don’t waste time. Get inside quickly, and be careful — passersby on the street might see you.”
Ming Huashang’s face lit up with delight: “Second Brother!”
Xie Jichuan pulled his long legs in and landed with ease, saying: “Second Little Sister, I’m here too, you know. How can you have eyes only for him?”
Ming Huazhang did not even spare him a glance. He sat down at the table and said: “Don’t mind him. I went to the mortuary and examined Zhang Ziyun’s body. The autopsy details are lengthy — Xie Jichuan, you go first.”
Xie Jichuan closed the window and sat down wherever he found space, saying: “I inquired at the apothecary. The medicine in the mute servant’s room is a remedy commonly used in brothels, and among them is one called Overlapping Dream Powder. It is a powerful sedative. After ingesting it, the body grows feverish and the mind becomes muddled — one drifts in a haze as if inside a dream. It is especially potent when mixed with wine. Physicians originally used this drug to compound anesthetic powders, but once it made its way into brothels its original purpose was entirely perverted. Brothels often use it to render women unconscious and force compliance. Of course, there are also clients with particular tastes who use it for other purposes.”
The further Xie Jichuan spoke, the more unsuitable his remarks became. Ming Huazhang coughed and shot him a cold sideways glance. Xie Jichuan spread his hands: “All right, then I have nothing more to say. That is all I know.”
Ming Huashang actually already knew all of this — the conversations she had with the maids had been considerably more explicit than this — but since Ming Huazhang was also present, she felt slightly awkward. She pretended not to understand, and changed the subject: “Why would the madam put a sedative in Zhang Ziyun’s wine?”
“Still unclear.” Ming Huazhang smoothly took back the lead and said: “According to the case records, when Zhang Ziyun was found dead, a three-inch-long dagger had fallen beside his right hand, and there was a knife wound on the right side of his neck. There were no traces of a third person at the scene, so the Jing Zhao Office ruled it a suicide. I examined Zhang Ziyun’s body. Although the wound on his neck had pierced a blood vessel, the edges of the wound showed no contraction, and there were no purple-black clots beneath the skin. By rights, severing the carotid artery should cause massive bleeding, and the surrounding tissue should show swelling and redness — yet his wound was remarkably clean.”
Ming Huashang, Jiang Ling, and Ren Yao were all still beginners and had not studied wound identification. They listened with confusion. Xie Jichuan began to understand: “You mean…”
“The wound on his neck was forged after his death by someone deliberately staging it to look like a suicide. There was definitely a third person at the scene.”
“So that means, at some point between the hour of Xu and the hour of Hai that day, someone must have entered Feng Qing Si Yuan.” Xie Jichuan asked: “Did you determine the true cause of death?”
“His face was cyanotic, with pinpoint hemorrhages in his eyes, and his lips and fingernails were a purplish-red. He should have died from asphyxiation.” Ming Huazhang caught sight of the other three staring at him like baffled groundhogs, and considerately rephrased: “That is to say, he was smothered.”
Ming Huashang and Jiang Ling said “Oh” at the same time. Jiang Ling said: “That I understand. No matter what kind of man Zhang Ziyun was, he was still a grown man. To smother him without anyone outside hearing anything, the killer must have been a young and physically strong man, yes?”
“Not necessarily.” Ming Huashang suddenly spoke up. “Brother Xie, how long does Overlapping Dream Powder remain effective?”
Xie Jichuan thought for a moment: “Approximately one shichen.”
Ming Huashang nodded, seeming to work something out: “Then it fits. Don’t forget that the madam put Overlapping Dream Powder in the wine she sent Zhang Ziyun — and she sent the wine right at the hour of Xu. If he drank it, he was very likely still unconscious when the killer entered. Which means during that period, anyone at all — man, woman, young, or old — could have smothered him with ease.”
Ming Huazhang gave a small nod: “I specifically went and asked Yuhu. He said that when he entered the room that day, he saw wine vessels on the table and two wine jars on the floor, one of which was half-empty. Overlapping Dream Powder takes effect very quickly. While we cannot be certain exactly when he drank, at the very least before the hour of Hai, Zhang Ziyun was unconscious. In other words, during that interval, anyone at all could have smothered him effortlessly.”
Excellent — after all this deliberation, the range of suspects had not narrowed in the slightest. Ren Yao was somewhat disheartened: “After all this trouble, we still don’t know how the killer entered the sealed room, and we still don’t know who the killer is. A whole day has passed and there’s not a shred of progress.”
“Who says so?” Ming Huashang said. “Actually, the killer has already revealed quite a lot. The more complex the method of murder, the more it shows that the killer is timid.”
“Timid?”
“Yes.” Ming Huashang fixed her gaze on a point in the distance, as if recalling someone she knew. “The killer created a locked-room murder, which shows that they are meticulous yet cowardly and cautious. After smothering Zhang Ziyun, they used a dagger to stage a suicide, which shows they were afraid of being implicated. Their position must be very vulnerable — we can be certain they are not an assassin sent by the court, a minister, or some prince.”
Now that Ming Huashang put it that way, Ren Yao found it made sense. If she herself were sent to assassinate some Zhang San, she would have grabbed the painting and fled at the first opportunity after succeeding — she would never waste time and effort staging a suicide. Ren Yao had a sudden flash of insight: “The killer is inside Tianxiang Tower!”
“Exactly.” Ming Huashang said. “They need to continue living inside Tianxiang Tower, which is why they were so constrained and cautious. We can eliminate the guests from that day and the temporary laborers. The killer must be one of the women or the debt-bonded servants permanently residing in Tianxiang Tower.”
Hope was finally in sight. Ren Yao’s spirits lifted, and Jiang Ling patted her on the shoulder: “Don’t be impatient. See — talking it through always finds a way.”
Ming Huazhang had also arrived at this conclusion, but there were too many women and servants in Tianxiang Tower. They could not make a scene; they needed to narrow the range further. Ming Huazhang asked: “What would you need in order to draw a more precise profile?”
Ming Huashang answered honestly: “Hard to say — I’d need to see the crime scene. But I still cannot figure out how the locked room was created. I originally thought the killer used some poison or sedative to kill from a distance, but Second Brother, you say Zhang Ziyun was smothered. That is strange. During that time period, Feng Qing Si Yuan was watched like an iron fortress by Xuan Xiaowei. How did the killer get in?”
This was the very problem that had troubled Ming Huazhang all night. He had deliberately surveyed the terrain the previous day and found no blind spots in the surveillance. Something came to him: “By the way, there may be one more detail useful to you. In the gaps under Zhang Ziyun’s fingernails I found fine red threads, yet there was nothing of a similar colour on Zhang Ziyun’s clothing. It’s possible that the killer that day was wearing a red garment.”
Xie Jichuan asked: “What material?”
Ming Huazhang said: “Too small to tell, but it should be a silk or satin fabric that can shed individual threads.”
Ren Yao and Jiang Ling immediately tried to recall who in Tianxiang Tower wore red clothing. Jiang Ling ventured: “The madam?”
Ren Yao added: “Shantea also likes red skirts.”
Ming Huashang thought this was strange: “A person meticulous enough to evade dozens of pairs of eyes would wear red silk to commit a murder? Red is conspicuous and delicate, and it is easy to leave traces at the scene. Only Shantea would favour that kind of clothing.”
Thinking of Shantea, something vaguely flickered in Ming Huashang’s mind. Ming Huazhang had just said these threads were found under Zhang Ziyun’s fingernails?
A flash of insight: “I remember now — I saw a red thread on the third-floor staircase too. At the time I thought it was some unlucky person whose clothing had gotten snagged, just like mine had. Is there any chance those two are connected?”
Ming Huazhang visibly grew serious, and said in a low voice: “Take me to see it. Now.”
“Of course. But…” Ming Huashang glanced outside, looking troubled, “…by now almost everyone in Tianxiang Tower is awake. If we stand around on the staircase, it will be far too conspicuous.”
That was indeed true — especially since the third floor housed many of the brothel women, and there would be constant coming and going. Ming Huazhang fell into silent thought. Jiang Ling was feeling somewhat hungry, but since everyone was still discussing the mission he did not feel it appropriate to bring up eating, so he grabbed a piece of fruit to tide himself over.
He bit into it with a crunch and had taken only two bites when he noticed Ming Huazhang looking at him. The bite of fruit lodged awkwardly in his mouth. He felt a prickle of unease and asked: “What is it?”
Shortly before noon, the pampered Young Master Jiang finally woke from his sleep. The moment he was up, he had the madam summon every woman in the tower to attend him and keep him company in his entertainment. The madam naturally dared not refuse, and with the exception of Shantea, who had an injured leg, she drove all the rest downstairs to the main hall to sing, dance, and play music, making every effort to ensure the Young Master was satisfied.
Jiang Ling wore a smile on his face, enjoying the extravagant treatment of dozens of women revolving around him alone. He dodged another uninvited hand for what felt like the hundredth time, and said through a strained smile to Ren Yao: “How much longer? I can’t hold out.”
Ren Yao was equally uncomfortable. If it had not been for Jiang Ling’s near-tearful insistence on keeping someone by his side, Ren Yao would never have agreed to play the role of “favoured handmaid” — she would far rather have gone with Ming Huazhang to investigate.
In hindsight, she should have been more steely-hearted. Ren Yao endured the suffocating reek of face powder and said with difficulty: “Bear with it a little longer. It should be nearly over.”
With everyone in the main hall attending the young master, the third floor was unusually quiet. Shantea was shut up in her room sulking. With her doors and windows closed, she naturally had no idea how bustling it had become at that very moment on the staircase of the east building.
Ming Huashang, Ming Huazhang, and Xie Jichuan had gathered on the staircase. Ming Huashang relied on her memory to find the wooden plank and said: “Second Brother, Brother Xie — look, right here.”
Ming Huazhang crouched down, his hand slow and steady, and drew a fine thread from between the splinters. Xie Jichuan stood on the other side and asked: “Is it the same?”
Ming Huazhang held it up to his eyes and nodded with certainty: “The same.”
This thread was rather long. Ming Huashang leaned over to look at it and said: “This looks like it was drawn from silk fabric.”
The three exchanged a glance, and the same thought came to them at once: “Shantea’s red silk ribbon for dancing.”
Ming Huazhang told Xie Jichuan to secure the evidence, then reached out to help Ming Huashang stand up from the staircase and said: “It seems my instinct was right. That piece of red silk ribbon that had mysteriously been cut shorter — it cannot be unconnected to the murder. Why would the killer cut a section from the ribbon?”
Ming Huashang saw the black void of the gap beneath the staircase and felt a wave of fear. In her inattention she swayed slightly. Ming Huazhang immediately stepped forward and caught her around the waist: “Careful.”
The staircase passage was narrow. With three people standing in it there was barely room to move. Ming Huashang was very nearly draped entirely on Ming Huazhang’s arm. She felt somewhat embarrassed, carefully shifted a step to the side, and said: “I’m fine, I’ll just hold onto the wall.”
Ming Huazhang disagreed: “There’s nothing to grip on the wall. You had better hold onto me—”
Ming Huazhang suddenly stopped mid-sentence. Ming Huashang followed his gaze curiously. Above them was nothing but a ventilation window. She asked: “Second Brother, what is it?”
Ming Huazhang’s expression turned very cold. He said to Xie Jichuan: “Watch her.”
Xie Jichuan moved a step closer to Ming Huashang and asked: “What did you find?”
Ming Huazhang gave no answer. He moved down the stairs three steps at a time, and sure enough found an identical ventilation window in the same position on the second floor. Ming Huashang sensed something was wrong and carefully followed him down: “Second Brother, is there something the matter with this window? I went inside before — there’s a small compartment in there, with no passage connecting to Feng Qing Si Yuan.”
“No — there must be.” Ming Huazhang’s face turned deathly pale, his eyes deep and dark. “This is bad. We made a grave mistake last night. We may have let the killer escape.”
“What?”
Ming Huazhang pointed to the small, square ventilation window on the second-floor wall and said: “Last night, the killer could have entered the crime scene through here. It is quite possible they have already destroyed crucial evidence.”
Xie Jichuan came down from behind, looked the window up and down, and frowned: “The opening is certainly wide enough for a woman of ordinary build to pass through — but the window is so high up, and the wall has nothing to grip. She couldn’t climb up.”
“She could.” Ming Huazhang looked toward the spot where the thread had been found and said: “Do you remember how Shantea danced? If one drapes the silk ribbon over the wooden board on the third floor and stands on the second-floor staircase, she can grip the silk ribbon and pull herself up into the ventilation window.”
Xie Jichuan studied the positions of the staircase plank and the ventilation window, and as he looked his expression grew colder: “It seems possible — but it would be best to find a woman to test it.”
Everyone instinctively looked toward the main hall. Ren Yao was seated beside Jiang Ling, surrounded by a crowd of supple, lightly dressed young women who were enthusiastically feeding them refreshments.
They looked rather busy.
Xie Jichuan’s expression was somewhat ambiguous: “I’m afraid the signal whistle won’t reach them. Shall I go and call her over?”
Ming Huashang looked the distance up and down, then suddenly said: “Second Brother, let me try.”
Ming Huazhang was startled and instinctively objected: “Absolutely not — it’s too dangerous. What if you fall?”
Ming Huashang knew perfectly well that Ren Yao’s physical ability was far superior to hers and that letting Ren Yao go first would be more suitable. But Jiang Ling and Ren Yao were being watched by too many pairs of eyes, and calling Ren Yao away now could easily cause unnecessary complications.
Ming Huashang flexed her hands and feet: “It’s all right — I can do it. And besides, Second Brother is here.”
Xie Jichuan said drily: “With him here, are you not going to get hurt when you fall, or something?”
Why did Ming Huashang constantly invoke “my second elder brother” as though, with Ming Huazhang present, the sky itself could come crashing down and it would still not be cause for concern?
“Be quiet.” Ming Huazhang shot Xie Jichuan a cold stare. “Go into that little compartment and receive her from the inside.”
Although Xie Jichuan was prone to sarcasm, he still slipped unobserved into the compartment to clear the way for Ming Huashang. Ming Huazhang took out a soft rope from his person, tied it to the stair beam where the red thread had been hanging, and cautioned her again: “Be careful.”
Ming Huashang peered out, and the moment no one was looking their way she darted to the second-floor staircase and caught the rope Ming Huazhang tossed down: “I know.”
Ming Huazhang watched her struggling to climb the wall with the rope, and opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. In the end he sighed quietly, stepped behind her, and supporting her at the waist, half-lifted her up to the ventilation window: “Careful.”
She had not even stopped to check whether the rope on the third floor was tied securely — she had simply stepped up herself on the strength of a single word from him. What had he done to deserve such trust?
With Ming Huazhang’s help, Ming Huashang climbed through the window. Before she could even think about how to get the rest of her body in, a pair of long, slender, slightly cool hands reached in from inside, gripped her arms, and lifted her down.
Ming Huashang was still dizzy when her feet touched the ground. She instinctively grabbed the arms of the person in front of her: “Brother Xie, wait a moment — I’m a little dizzy.”
At that moment, the nearby door shifted softly and Ming Huazhang slipped inside. He took in their posture and paused for a brief instant.
Ming Huazhang looked steadily at Xie Jichuan. Xie Jichuan calmly released her and said: “It seems your hypothesis is workable.”
Although Ming Huashang’s demonstration had been rather disastrous, it at least proved the route was viable. If one substituted a woman with stronger legs and core, she should be able to use the rope’s support to climb from the staircase up into the ventilation window and enter the small room.
Ming Huazhang imperceptibly encircled Ming Huashang’s wrist and drew her to his side: “You go look for the hidden passage. I’ll stay with her.”
This little compartment was meant for servants to rest briefly, and the space was very limited. Ming Huazhang steadied Ming Huashang into a seated position, freeing room for Xie Jichuan to move.
Xie Jichuan groped through the darkness. Ming Huashang recovered after a moment, and then felt quite embarrassed: “I’ve caused trouble for you all again…”
“No trouble.” Ming Huazhang said. “If anything, I was the one who put you to trouble.”
With the compartment door shut, it was extremely dark — Ming Huashang could not even see her own legs. Ming Huazhang seemed to sense her fear, and slowly tightened his hand around her palm, telling her without words that he was there.
Darkness pressed in with all its unknown and fear, yet his breathing was steady and his hand firm, giving off a powerful sense of security. Ming Huashang’s heart grew inexplicably calm. Outside, some woman was singing — naturally one could not expect refined classical music from a place like this. A melody of frivolous, lingering notes drifted in through the crack under the door. Ming Huashang heard the words of the song and curled her fingertips in embarrassment.
Her fingers inadvertently grazed Ming Huazhang’s palm. Thinking she was frightened, he gripped her hand all the more tightly. In the murky darkness, the only thing with a strong, vivid presence was the young man at her side.
Feeling unable to remain silent any longer, Ming Huashang searched for something to say: “So — on the night of the murder, the killer used this method to enter the second-floor room?”
His low, clear voice drifted toward her from beside her: “That’s right. Looking at the timing, the madam must have sent wine to Zhang Ziyun around the hour of Xu. Shortly after, Shantea performed, leaping from the third floor to the stage. When a maid casually tucked the silk ribbon behind the curtain, the killer quietly hid at the back, and the moment no one was watching, cut a section of the ribbon and slipped into the staircase. Draping the ribbon over the beam above, the killer used the ribbon to climb through the ventilation window into this compartment, then passed through the hidden door into the adjacent Feng Qing Si Yuan, and smothered the unconscious Zhang Ziyun.”
Ming Huazhang said with certainty: “So there must be a passage from this room to Feng Qing Si Yuan.”
“Well, don’t just stand there talking.” A cool, languid voice came from the darkness. “Second Little Sister is a grown person — she can rest on her own perfectly well. Can you come over and help?”
Ming Huashang felt bad about that and quickly stood up: “I’ll look too.”
Ming Huashang could not see anything. She was navigating entirely by feel. She seemed to touch a cool, smooth wall and was just beginning to explore it more carefully when someone grabbed her wrist.
Xie Jichuan’s smiling voice rang out: “Little Sister, it’s me.”
Ming Huashang quickly stepped back in embarrassment and bumped into someone else entirely. Ming Huazhang caught her by the arm and steered her toward the wall: “There’s no need for you to do this kind of rough work. Just wait here in peace.”
“Hey.” Xie Jichuan’s tone turned distinctly unfriendly. “The one doing the rough work is still right here, you know.”
Ming Huashang said: “Second Brother, don’t worry about me — go help Brother Xie.”
Ming Huazhang made a sound of assent, yet did not move a single inch. Xie Jichuan made a displeased noise. To appease him, Ming Huazhang idly turned over some of the nearby wooden shelving, giving at least a token show of effort.
Ming Huazhang suddenly asked: “Who lives in the northernmost room on the third floor?”
“Do you mean the room closest to the staircase?” Ming Huashang tilted her head upward and said: “I specifically asked about that — Yuqiong lives there.”
Following the layout of Tianxiang Tower, Yuqiong’s room was positioned directly above this compartment, and there was also a ventilation window in the wall up there. Climbing out of it would bring one directly into the staircase passage.
Ming Huazhang slowly acknowledged this and said: “Then we will need to add another person to our considerations. Last night, it is very possible that Yuqiong also went out — we simply did not see it.”
While Tianxiang Tower had only Shantea who could perform aerial silk dancing, Yuqiong had grown up in the Imperial Music Academy and need not be ignorant of dance. With her physique, she would be perfectly capable of climbing out of the ventilation window in her own room, dropping onto the staircase, then leaping from the third-floor landing to the second-floor landing, and crawling through the compartment’s ventilation window without alerting anyone outside, opening the hidden door and entering the scene.
If that was truly the case, she could have come and gone last night without anyone being the wiser, and no one would know what evidence she had destroyed. This would be enormously detrimental to their investigation.
“I considered this as well.” Xie Jichuan’s voice broke through the darkness: “But on the night of the murder, Yuqiong was in the west building. To reach the east building she would need to pass through the main hall. It would be impossible for the killer to be her.”
Ming Huazhang exhaled softly and said: “Even so, someone was in this place last night.”
Xie Jichuan froze for a moment, then immediately understood: “You found the hidden door?”
“More or less.” Ming Huazhang pointed toward the wooden shelf on the south wall. “The moment I came in, I felt this shelf was slightly odd. The compartment has such a small space — why not build a tall shelf? Now I understand: because the footprint of this shelf precisely blocks a door.”
Ming Huashang quickly reached out to feel — yes. She had been so busy searching the walls and floor for gaps that she had overlooked the most obvious spot. Xie Jichuan walked over without even stopping to verify whether it was true, and with a slightly sour air asked: “How did you find it?”
“Mainly because I was keeping the young lady company.” Ming Huazhang replied unhurriedly. “I was just idly turning things over and happened to notice there was light showing through here. Light means a gap.”
Ming Huazhang and Xie Jichuan moved the shelf aside. Ming Huazhang tried pushing — and sure enough, it gave way.
Ming Huazhang’s face was composed as he was the first to step inside.
The loud music and dancing from the main hall below fortunately masked any sounds from their side. Ming Huashang entered last and was met by a familiar layout — desolate, forlorn ground — and knew at once that this was the site of the murder: Feng Qing Si Yuan.
Their earlier reconstruction had been entirely correct. The killer had very likely returned to the scene a second time and destroyed certain clues. Anyone who had gone out that night — the madam, Shantea, the mute servant, and Yuqiong, who had the particular geographic advantage — all remained possible suspects.