Ming Huashang blinked, glanced at the Director of the Imperial Academy, and then dipped in a polite bow to Xie Jichuan. “Secretary Xie.”
Xie Jichuan made a soft sound of displeasure and strolled toward her. “Second Younger Sister, it has only been a few days, yet you are already so formal with me?”
His words were a mixture of dissatisfaction and something approaching a pout, yet his tone was as if he were coaxing a child — making it impossible for anyone to take offense. Not even a trace of his usual cool and detached manner remained. None of the Huang household had expected Xie Jichuan to be on such close terms with Ming Huashang, and they were all struck momentarily dumb.
Even Director Huang’s wits took a moment to catch up. He considered himself a man of distinction, and held his social circle to exacting standards — only those of the pure official class and the literary gentry would do. Xie Jichuan had been born into the Xie clan of Chen Commandery, a man of brilliant talent and untrammeled spirit. His much-told story of declining to finish his examination paper and placing third among the jinshi candidates had not harmed his reputation in the least — on the contrary, it had become something of a legend in literary circles. Xie Jichuan was now serving in the Eastern Palace, drafting edicts for the Crown Prince — a man who, on every count, met Director Huang’s requirements for a valued acquaintance.
Today was a rare occasion to have Xie Jichuan as a guest, and Director Huang had come home in high spirits — only to learn that his wife had let an outsider in and had even opened the room of that unfilial daughter of his. He was instantly furious. The people of the Jing Zhao Prefecture had been pestering him for some time already, and now they were brazenly entering his home — the height of impudence! He had immediately ordered someone to throw the uninvited visitor out, but then Xie Jichuan, upon hearing this, had expressed great interest and insisted on coming along to see — even greeting this woman in the most familiar, offhand manner, as if no one else were in the room.
Director Huang glanced at the two of them in puzzlement and asked: “Secretary Xie, you two…?”
Xie Jichuan turned with a smile. “Seeing an old acquaintance, I got carried away for a moment — forgive me for making a spectacle of myself, Director. This is the second young lady of Duke Zhenguo’s estate. Her elder brother, Jingzhan, is my closest friend, so she is as good as a younger sister of my own.”
Director Huang’s lips moved slightly. With things stated so plainly by Xie Jichuan, he could hardly continue to press the matter of Ming Huashang’s forcible entry into the Huang household — to do so would be to show disrespect to the Xie family and to the Eastern Palace itself.
Director Huang could not help casting another glance at Xie Jichuan. There were so many families in the capital, and when you traced the connections, many had ties of kinship with one another. Xie Jichuan treated even his own real cousins and sisters with an attitude of detached equanimity — why should he care so much about a friend’s younger sister?
What he had said just now had carried a faint undercurrent of warning. Surely it meant more than simply backing up a friend’s sister.
Director Huang produced a hollow smile and said, “So this is the young Miss Ming. This courtyard has long been left unused by the household — it should have been cleared out long ago. How could we receive honored guests in such a place? Please come this way, Secretary Xie, Miss Ming.”
Xie Jichuan waved him off. “There’s no need. I happen to enjoy staying in places like this. Second Younger Sister — what brings you here?”
Ming Huashang quietly rolled up the portrait in her hand and said, “My elder brother wished to call on the Director, but the Director has unfortunately been occupied every time. The murders in Chang’an cannot wait any longer, so I took the liberty of asking Madam Huang to bring me into the estate to see if anyone had any information about the killer.”
Director Huang was most averse to anyone raising the subject of his “stain,” yet Ming Huashang insisted on laying it bare to his face. Madam Huang and the maidservants all clenched their handkerchiefs, watching the Director’s expression with bated breath.
Director Huang’s expression was indeed very unpleasant. But Ming Huashang was an outsider — he could not do anything to her — and once she was sent away, Madam Huang and the maidservants would certainly receive a thrashing on her behalf.
Since this had all been started by her, she would answer for it herself — she would not pass the cost on to Madam Huang. She deliberately chose to lay Director Huang’s hypocrisy bare right to his face: if the enormous charge of obstructing the investigation came down on him, she would see whether he still dared to act out. If he could not afford to bear a charge that great, then he would have no grounds to punish Madam Huang for it.
As expected: after she spoke, Director Huang’s expression darkened, but he dared not fly into a rage as he had before. Xie Jichuan, with no visible show of it, swept a look over Ming Huashang, and went on smiling as he asked: “And did Younger Sister find what she was looking for?”
“Still in the process of asking.”
“I’ll stay and keep Younger Sister company.” At those words, Director Huang’s brow contracted sharply and he was about to interject, but Xie Jichuan said lightly, “His Majesty has commanded the Crown Prince to oversee this case. If it is not solved before the new year, it will not only be the Jing Zhao Prefecture that suffers — the Eastern Palace, the Ministry of Justice, and the Court of Judicial Review will all be implicated. As the Crown Prince’s secretary, it is naturally my duty to spare the Crown Prince this burden.”
Xie Jichuan’s words shut off every avenue of objection for Director Huang. No matter how much he fancied himself, he was merely a Director of the Imperial Academy — a title with prestige but no real power. How could he dare to offend half the court’s practical authority? He could only swallow his displeasure and put on a show of compliance. “But of course. Serving the sovereign is the duty of us all as his officials. Madam…”
Madam Huang looked up in momentary surprise. “What are your instructions?”
“Gather the entire household. Allow the Secretary to question them. Whatever he needs and whatever he wishes to ask — give your full cooperation.”
Madam Huang gave him a quiet, expressionless look, then lowered her eyes and answered in a tone of dutiful submission, “Yes.”
With the master of the house having given his consent, Ming Huashang no longer needed to work in the shadows. She questioned several maidservants, gradually piecing together the appearance of Yuyan.
Yuyan had been Huang Caiwei’s personal attendant. Four years ago she had accompanied Huang Caiwei to Qingshan Temple to offer incense, and had been killed by the perpetrator. Huang Caiwei was the daughter of the Director of the Imperial Academy; Yuyan was no more than a lowly maidservant. Everyone — including the Jing Zhao Prefecture — had been entirely indifferent to her death. The entire case bore the name “The Huang Caiwei Case,” and the associated case files ran to six thick volumes — yet the passages concerning Yuyan amounted to less than a single page.
It was only from the mouths of the Huang household’s servants that Ming Huashang could glimpse the young woman of fifteen who had once been just as youthful, just as lovely, but who had been erased beneath the shadow of her mistress’s light by the difference in their station.
Ming Huashang revised the sketch again and again, never satisfied. She discarded yet another ruined draft and sighed: “Drawing is so hard.”
Xie Jichuan stood to one side, arms folded, and said coolly: “Is it? You call that drawing?”
When it came to sharp remarks, no one could best Xie Jichuan. Ming Huashang shot him an irritated glare. “If you’re so capable, why don’t you come do it?”
Xie Jichuan let out a dismissive scoff, and actually walked over. “Move.”
Ming Huashang’s fists tightened — but she thought of how the sooner this was done, the sooner she could go home. She wrestled out a smile and placed the low stool with solicitous care, then handed the brush to Xie Jichuan. “Please, Elder Brother Xie.”
While Ming Huashang had been asking questions, Xie Jichuan had been listening throughout, and the sight of her several excruciating “draft portraits” had, without him quite noticing, already assembled the composition in his mind. Ming Huashang had assumed that someone as fastidious as Xie Jichuan would surely disdain to use her brush — but without a word he took it from her, and with a mere two strokes had already traced the soft, delicate line of a face.
He painted with extraordinary speed, and the outline of a young woman appeared rapidly on the paper. Ming Huashang stood to his side watching, and had to admit that Xie Jichuan’s arrogance was well-founded. The portrait beneath his brush fit perfectly with the image in her mind of what Yuyan should look like.
In almost no time at all, Yuyan’s portrait was complete. Xie Jichuan set down the brush and, though he said not a word, his every gesture proclaimed: Look how exceptional I am.
Ming Huashang was most skilled at handling exactly this sort of person. She immediately arranged her face into a sweetly beaming expression and lavished him with praise: “Elder Brother Xie, you are so incredibly accomplished — truly worthy of the man who earned his jinshi ranking with an unfinished paper. Your learning is excellent, your essays are superb, and even your painting is this outstanding. Is there anything in the world you are not good at? There is still one more portrait here, but I’m afraid I cannot do it justice — could you help me improve it?”
Xie Jichuan, who as a rule could not be moved to paint in public and never left his brushwork lying about for others to see, inexplicably picked up the brush again and repainted Ming Huashang’s portrait of Huang Caiwei from scratch — this time not merely capturing the spirit but attaining a likeness so precise it seemed to press close to the living person.
When Madam Huang saw it, she could scarcely believe her eyes. Ming Huashang, observing Madam Huang’s unwavering gaze fixed on the portrait, said, “Madam, you must grieve. When the case is resolved, I will have this portrait delivered to you as a keepsake.”
Madam Huang’s eyes went wet; she nearly let the tears fall. “Thank you so much.”
Xie Jichuan raised an eyebrow and tugged at Ming Huashang’s sleeve without a word. Ming Huashang turned her head, gave him a discreet glare, and continued in a gentle voice comforting Madam Huang: “Madam, please set your heart at ease. We will certainly bring the killer to justice and win back what is owed to Caiwei and Yuyan.”
Madam Huang expressed her gratitude again and again, and personally saw them out to the inner gate. Once they were outside, Xie Jichuan had been restraining himself the whole way, and finally could not help but murmur in an aggrieved tone: “That was my painting. Who gave you the right to give it away?”
“There is no anguish so universal as a parent’s love for a child. Madam Huang lost her beloved daughter — let her have it as something to remember her by.” Ming Huashang spoke with a veneer of sincerity, and with an utter lack of any real remorse beneath it, offered her flattery: “It is because you painted it so beautifully that I did so. ‘Having come to understand the vastness of the world, one still has tender feeling for the smallest blade of grass’ — I believe Secretary Xie possesses precisely that breadth of spirit.”
Xie Jichuan’s objection paused on his lips — and he found himself genuinely entertaining the notion that leaving one painting out in the world was no great matter at all. He waited a moment, gave a light scoff, and said: “So — you’ve finished making use of me, and now you go back to calling me by my title?”
Ming Huashang was utterly without words. She kept her patience and smiled. “I was only doing that to show my admiration for you. If Elder Brother Xie dislikes it, then I’ll go back to the other way.”
As Xie Jichuan and Ming Huashang talked, they had already reached the main gate of the Huang household. Today, to avoid attracting attention, Ming Huashang had come in Madam Huang’s carriage. Now she had to wait for her own carriage to be brought around from the Eastern Market.
Just as Ming Huashang was about to say goodbye to Xie Jichuan — leaving him there while she and Zhao Cai waited for the carriage — a long gust of wind swept through. Withered yellow leaves were caught up into the air, fluttering and swirling like thousands upon thousands of butterflies. Ming Huashang had just stepped out through the gate when she instinctively looked up, and came face to face with the person arriving.
He wore a crimson round-collar robe beneath a black outer cloak, and was climbing the steps toward them. The sky was caught in that uncertain hour between day and dark, and the dusk seemed to have washed him in cool tones — cold and dense, beguiling yet grave.
He raised his eyes. One instant before or one instant after and it would have been missed — but he raised them at precisely the right moment, and his gaze met that of both Ming Huashang and Xie Jichuan at once.
All three of them went still for a fraction of a second. Ming Huazhang stopped in his tracks. From behind him, one of his attendants came running to catch up: “Second Young Master, wait — Second Miss left a message saying she would be all right, and if you force your way into the Director’s residence, you may be impeached—”
The attendant came close enough to see who was on the steps and nearly bit through his own tongue. “Se— Second Miss?”
The wind in the street seemed to have been told to hold its breath. Ming Huashang was surprised for just a single beat, but she was the first to move, delighted, bounding down the steps. “Second Elder Brother, how did you come to be here?”
Ming Huazhang reached out from beneath the cloak, his fingers dark against the heavy black fabric — all the more slender and fine-boned for the contrast. He caught Ming Huashang’s hand and looked over at Xie Jichuan without expression, saying lightly: “When I got back to the estate and found you weren’t there, I sent people out to look for you at once. You really are capable of causing commotion. I went to the Eastern Market first and asked the shop-keepers there, and that’s how I found out you had come to the Director’s residence.”
Ming Huashang knew she was in the wrong and managed a guilty laugh. She had not expected to stay so late, nor had she anticipated that Ming Huazhang would return to the estate early today. What a pity — if only he had been just half an hour later, she could have managed to cover the whole thing up.
She was already thinking to herself about how she would explain it — or rather, how she would try to talk her way around it — when the new year arrived. Meanwhile she said breezily: “Today I happened to run into Madam Huang in the Eastern Market. We got along very well in conversation, so I came along to pay a visit to the Huang household, and it so happened that Elder Brother Xie was here as well. It was thanks to Elder Brother Xie helping me with the portraits that I didn’t have to agonize much longer.”
Xie Jichuan and Ming Huazhang’s gazes met, and something seemed to flicker and pass between them in the air. Ming Huazhang smiled, tightened his hold on Ming Huashang’s hand, and said: “I see. Thank you.”
Xie Jichuan also smiled. “Helping my second younger sister is what I ought to do. Second Younger Sister — you said a little while ago that you had discovered something very important. What exactly was it?”
Ming Huashang could not recall saying any such thing, and asked in genuine puzzlement: “I’ve said so many things — I can’t remember which one you mean. Which do you mean?”
Xie Jichuan smiled pleasantly and said, with a tactful air: “You’ve forgotten? It was about the killer.”
Ming Huashang felt Ming Huazhang’s hand tighten slightly, cool around her wrist. She gave a small tug — it did not come free. If anything, the grip seemed to become more of a constraint. Ming Huashang silently drew her shoulders together a little and said: “It’s not simple to explain quickly, and it’s a bit cold here. Why don’t we go back to the estate and talk?”
Both of them had noticed that Ming Huashang was cold. Before Xie Jichuan could get a word in, Ming Huazhang had already unclasped his outer cloak and draped it around Ming Huashang’s shoulders. Ming Huashang felt its weight settle on her, and found herself enveloped in the cool, steadfast fragrance of pine.
It was the scent Ming Huazhang always wore. Much like the man himself — gentle yet forceful, seemingly understated, yet like a tall pine in winter, its aspect unchanged by the cold.
While Ming Huashang was still collecting her thoughts, Ming Huazhang had already said with easy composure: “Thank you for looking after her today. As it happens, I have some matters to report to the Crown Prince. Shall we continue the discussion at Duke Zhenguo’s estate?”
Xie Jichuan smiled with equal ease, as though two old friends were reuniting: “Gladly. Since I came to Chang’an, I haven’t visited your residence. Today is a good opportunity.”
Ming Huashang glanced from one to the other and quietly drew the cloak tighter. Was it just her imagination, or was there something odd about the atmosphere?
Ming Huazhang had brought Ming Huashang’s carriage along when he came. Ming Huashang got into the carriage, while Ming Huazhang and Xie Jichuan rode on horseback, one before and one behind, flanking her carriage. It was only after she settled comfortably in the carriage that Ming Huashang realized she was still wearing Ming Huazhang’s cloak. She quickly leaned out of the carriage window. “Second Elder Brother, wait — your cloak!”
Ming Huazhang glanced over, and said almost instinctively: “Never mind, keep it on — you’ll catch cold.”
“That won’t do at all — I’m inside a carriage, how would I possibly catch cold?” Ming Huashang paid him no mind. She signaled the driver to bring the carriage a little closer, reached out, and threw the cloak over his shoulders herself.
There was a gap between the carriage and Ming Huazhang’s horse, and in order to fasten the ties, Ming Huashang had to lean half her body out of the window. Seeing this, Ming Huazhang could only rein his horse closer and let her fuss about at his collar.
Xie Jichuan had mounted his horse first, and the familiar horse, knowing its master’s habits, had already set off at a light canter. But there was no sound of hoofbeats from behind. Xie Jichuan pulled on the reins and looked back — and saw Ming Huashang fastening Ming Huazhang’s cloak.
Half her body was nearly out of the window as she focused intently on tying Ming Huazhang’s fastenings. Ming Huazhang’s expression was somewhere between indulgent and resigned; he held the reins in one hand, and with the other hovered at her waist, steadying her.
They were standing so close together — yet neither of them seemed to notice it. Not even the servants on either side of them seemed to find it at all out of the ordinary.
Ming Huashang tied a firm double knot in Ming Huazhang’s cloak fastenings, making certain it would absolutely not come undone in the wind, and then drew her hands back with great satisfaction. Ming Huazhang helped steady her back into the carriage, and then, without drawing any attention to it, loosened the ties that were now pulling slightly at his throat, and said: “Sit properly. Let’s go home.”
The night wind was desolate; the chill of deep autumn was pitiless — yet somehow those words carried an altogether different warmth. Ming Huashang’s face broke into a smile, her eyes bright like scattered stars. “All right.”
Duke Zhenguo’s estate — the servants were not surprised by the Second Young Master returning late, and could accept the Second Miss accompanying him, but truly had not anticipated that this late in the evening the Young Master would bring a guest home besides. After a period of bustling about, the three of them were seated in Qinghui Courtyard. Xie Jichuan took a light sip of the chenxiang drink and, studying the clear amber liquid, seemed to be deep in thought. “The flavor of this drink seems rather unlike what you find elsewhere.”
“It is different.” Ming Huashang said. “After I bought the recipe I made some changes of my own. Second Elder Brother doesn’t like the taste of cinnamon bark, so I removed it and added herbal notes instead.”
Ming Huazhang’s expression was perfectly composed as he drank his chenxiang drink without hurry. Xie Jichuan looked at him, and for reasons he could not quite explain, could not hold back the remark: “Jingzhan, you used to be the most self-disciplined of men — keeping yourself in check in all things, tasting everything lightly and never allowing yourself to be addicted, absolutely refusing to indulge your own desires for the pleasures of food and drink. How is it that now even the drinks you take must be made to special order?”
Ming Huashang choked slightly and stared at Ming Huazhang in disbelief. Heavens — her second elder brother had been that hard on himself?
Ming Huazhang, undisturbed by both pairs of eyes on him, set his cup down with unhurried composure, wiped his hands with a cloth, changed his outer robe and shoes, and only then strolled over. He said, with cool clarity: “A person’s thinking can change. What I think now is that certain principles cannot be violated — while certain other lines need not be a cause for self-affliction.”
Ming Huazhang and Xie Jichuan held each other’s gaze, and something of complex import seemed to pass between them. Ming Huashang found her eyes drifting without her will to his hand.
Long and well-proportioned, with clearly defined knuckles. So very fine.
The way Ming Huashang lowered her head was too obvious for either Ming Huazhang or Xie Jichuan to miss. Ming Huazhang, realizing she was looking at his hand, suddenly recalled that more than a few people over the years had remarked that his hands were very fine.
Ming Huazhang was naturally indifferent to such things. Face and hands were gifts from one’s parents, determined by birth, not something to be attached to; it was virtue and conduct that a gentleman should pursue, and caring about mere outer appearance was hopelessly shallow. Yet at this particular moment he was wiping his hand for a surprisingly long time — long enough that Xie Jichuan, sitting across from him, gave a quiet, knowing hum.
Ming Huashang became aware that she had been staring fixedly at her own elder brother’s hand and felt genuinely mortified. She hastily picked up her cup and said: “Second Elder Brother is quite right — people ought to live for themselves; whatever is comfortable, that is the way to go. Elder Brother Xie’s hands are also beautiful — I was thinking so just now when you were painting. You hold the brush in a particularly lovely way.”
Indeed, Xie Jichuan also had beautiful hands, and that little word “also” from Ming Huashang was most eloquent.
Xie Jichuan could not suppress a soft, brief laugh — and sure enough, across the table, Ming Huazhang’s expression cooled. Xie Jichuan, harboring a certain mischievous impulse, deliberately asked: “Second Younger Sister — of all the people you have seen, whose hands do you find the most beautiful?”
Ming Huashang blinked, clearly not having expected Xie Jichuan to actually press the point in some sort of competition. She glanced from the corner of her eye at her elder brother sitting upright and still as a statue, apparently not caring in the slightest, then at the pleasantly smiling Xie Jichuan across the table — who was, beneath the white, demonstrably something else entirely. Her mind raced. At last, a flash of inspiration struck: “Elder Sister Ren’s hands are beautiful. Oh, and Elder Sister Su — hers are lovely too.”
The atmosphere in the room seemed to contract almost imperceptibly. Ming Huazhang quietly folded the cloth, set it aside, and said nothing — clearly with no interest whatsoever in continuing this topic. “What did you two discover today at the Huang household?”
Ming Huashang let out a silent breath of relief. She could speak freely again. She immediately sprang up, dashed to the writing desk for the portraits, and then came trotting back, spreading them out one by one in front of Ming Huazhang and Xie Jichuan. “Second Elder Brother, Elder Brother Xie — what do you see?”
The two men sat where they were — Ming Huazhang straight-backed as a pine, Xie Jichuan lazily propped on one arm — and both fell silent. Ming Huashang waited expectantly for a while, and then gradually realized that their gazes were not quite fixed on what was depicted in the portraits.
Or more precisely — not on the people the portraits were meant to depict.
Xie Jichuan gave a faint smile. “Jingzhan’s brushwork has grown more refined. This portrait is vivid, like a person brought to life.”
Ming Huazhang said: “Your style is also quite distinctive — no wonder Huashang remarked that you hold the brush beautifully.”
Ming Huashang looked down, and only then realized that with the comparison so plainly in front of them, the portrait she had drawn stood out in its wretchedness with painful clarity, while the portraits by Ming Huazhang and Xie Jichuan were each beautiful in their own distinct way.
Ming Huashang decided not to wait for them to speculate and simply announced her conclusion: “In these four portraits, Huang Caiwei is flamboyant, and Chu Jun is coquettishly beautiful — but among them, the young Huang lady’s maidservant Yuyan and the recently murdered Third Young Lady Cheng Siyue of Duke Chengguo’s estate are the same type. They both have a gentle and well-behaved quality to their looks — a kind of beauty that is harmless and unthreatening, and that gives the impression of being younger than their actual age.”
Ming Huazhang had been looking at her attentively all along; Xie Jichuan, too, had, without quite noticing, sat up straight. Ming Huashang placed Yuyan’s and Cheng Siyue’s portraits side by side, pushed Huang Caiwei’s halfway beneath them, and set Chu Jun’s to one side entirely.
After arranging the portraits this way, she continued: “My conjecture is this: in the Huang Caiwei case, the true target was not Huang Caiwei at all — it was Yuyan. But Yuyan was a servant, and as a servant her movements were not free. The killer, to prevent the secret from getting out, had no choice but to kill Huang Caiwei as well. Huang Caiwei had been spoiled by her family and was somewhat impulsive and headstrong in temperament; Chu Jun was even more so — the two of them are far removed from the sort of quiet, submissive young girl this killer is drawn to. Therefore, I suspect that the Chu Jun case was committed by someone who imitated the method — it was not the work of the serial killer.”
Ming Huazhang sat with eyes lowered, saying nothing. Xie Jichuan thought for a moment and asked: “You mean the Chu Jun case and the chain-murder case have no connection to one another — the killers were neither in league nor cooperating, and indeed may be two completely unrelated people who do not even know each other?”
“That’s right.” Ming Huashang said with absolute conviction. “We need to find at least two killers.”
This conclusion was extremely grave. The murders had already alarmed the Empress; the Eastern Palace, the Ministry of Justice, the Court of Judicial Review, the Censorate, and the Jing Zhao Prefecture — a whole chain of officials — were all watching this case. If the judgment were wrong, and it led the investigation in the wrong direction, causing a loss of time, it would bring the Empress’s rebuke down on all those officials, and Ming Huazhang was especially likely to see his official career come to a dead end.
Ming Huashang understood perfectly well how great a responsibility her words carried — one offhand statement from her, with no evidence to back it up, could affect the advancement or demotion of any number of people. But she still chose to speak her judgment through to the end. “I’ll now give separate initial portraits for the two cases. I’ll start with the simpler one — the Chu Jun case.”
“The killer in this case is male, between the ages of twenty-five and forty, brutal in temperament and erratic in behavior. He has had no formal education and has never served in the military. He has been starting trouble since childhood, has likely done time in prison, and may have a record with the authorities. He is unmarried and frequents pleasure quarters; he is highly mobile and unstable — in short, he is a desperate fugitive. What that means is that he very likely committed offenses elsewhere and then fled to Chang’an.”
Neither Ming Huazhang nor Xie Jichuan objected; they found the description credible. Since neither had anything to add, Ming Huashang continued: “The chain-murder case is considerably more complex. We have no record of the very first case involving the beggar woman, so I can’t make a good judgment on that — I can only draw the broadest possible outline. This killer is the opposite of the one in the Chu Jun case. He has received a refined education; he is cultured and precise; his current circumstances are likely comfortable. Because I don’t know the details of the first case, I don’t dare state his age rashly — but I can say with certainty that he is drawn to young girls between the ages of fourteen and sixteen, and the more fragile and unthreatening they appear, the better. He was on good terms with — or even knew personally — all four victims: the beggar woman, Huang Caiwei, Yuyan, and Cheng Siyue. I cannot speak to the beggar woman’s personality, but Cheng Siyue and Yuyan were both well-behaved, obedient girls — Yuyan especially, as a maidservant, was someone that only frequent acquaintances would have had access to. So the killer must be someone who visited both the Huang household and Duke Chengguo’s estate. Four years ago he lived near the Pudu Temple. Now he lives within the city of Chang’an.”
Ming Huazhang’s brow rose slightly. “How did you arrive at that last point?”
“Because I noticed that his marking method changed from taking the tibia to taking finger bones. I still don’t know what he does with the bones — but stripping finger bones requires much less space than stripping a tibia, and produces far less blood. So I suspect he lives in Chang’an and cannot drain away large quantities of blood without attracting attention, which is why he had to make do and switch from the tibia to finger bones.”
If Ming Huashang’s assessment was accurate, this narrowed the range and could help them eliminate a great deal of wasted effort. But was the portrait right?
Xie Jichuan leaned against the table and said nothing. He had gone to the Huang household today at Director Huang’s invitation, but it had also been partly to send a message to Director Huang on behalf of the Crown Prince. With Ming Huazhang involved in the case, even the Crown Prince had been forced to take on a supervisory role; if Ming Huazhang failed to solve it, the Li family’s influence, which had been so painstakingly rebuilt, would be dragged down again.
And so when he saw Ming Huashang at the Huang household, Xie Jichuan had gone along with the current and spoken up for her. Not that she seemed to have needed it — Xie Jichuan would wager that even without him today, she would have made her exit intact and with her clues in hand.
The case at Tianxiang Tower had been a matter of no suspects at all, while this one had too many. When they had had to choose between Yu Qiong and the old madam, Xie Jichuan had chosen wrongly, and Ming Huashang had been right. This time, would she be right again?
The flame of a candle popped. No one in the room spoke, waiting for Ming Huazhang’s decision.
Ming Huazhang thought in focused silence for a while, then spoke — his voice calm and steady. “Starting tomorrow, we divide into two groups according to the portrait. One group takes the Chu Jun case; I’ll have people keep surveillance outside the pleasure quarters and look into the men Chu Jun had contact with. Even though she was a woman of the pleasure quarters, whoever led her out of the city without incident must have been someone she knew, or even one of her regular patrons. The second group handles the true chain-murder case. There are many suspects along the route, but the number who actually satisfy every condition in Huashang’s portrait is not large.”
Ming Huashang let out a quiet, soundless breath of relief. The stone pressing on her chest finally felt like it was lifting. It had been like an invisible weight on her shoulders these past few days; she had tasted nothing of her food and found no peace in sleep, her mind occupied with the killer every waking hour. Now the initial portrait was finished, and there was nothing more for her to do for the time being — she would wait until Ming Huazhang found new evidence, and then refine it.
Xie Jichuan glanced at Ming Huazhang. “You’ve made up your mind? The Emperor gives the deadline as before the new year, and if this portrait turns out to be flawed and you miss the real killer — what then?”
Ming Huazhang understood perfectly well; no one knew better than he did what the risks were. But even so, he sat straight and unflinching, his eyes clear and unwavering. “Trust the person, do not suspect them — suspect them, do not employ them. I trust her.”