Shen Mo and Du Lai hurried back to the village head’s house and found Bai Youwei and Fu Miaoxue already waiting at the gate.

Fu Miaoxue was looking at Bai Youwei with a strange expression the entire time, as if staring at something peculiar.

Bai Youwei paid no attention to Fu Miaoxue’s scrutiny. She simply looked the two men up and down and asked with suspicion: “How come you didn’t change clothes?”

They had been gone so long without changing a single item — had something held them up?

Shen Mo said flatly: “We found a place. We’ll take you there in a moment. Tell us your side first — did you find anything?”

“Yes.” Bai Youwei gave a slight nod. “While we were paying our respects, the village head’s head fell out of the coffin. His wife, Ma-shi, suddenly went mad and burst into laughter. A guest said that when something happened at Li-shi’s place before, she had laughed the same way. So we were planning to go to the Li family home to take a look.”

“That’s quite a coincidence, then.” Shen Mo smiled faintly and glanced at Du Lai. “The place we found is Li-shi’s home — where Li-shi used to live.”

Bai Youwei immediately asked: “Where does Li-shi live?”

The corner of Du Lai’s mouth curved in a cold smile. “East of the village. By the old willow tree.”

…

The sky was overcast, as if rain might fall at any moment.

The four of them hurried toward the eastern end of the village.

Along the way, Bai Youwei and Fu Miaoxue told Shen Mo and Du Lai about the axe.

Du Lai said with puzzlement: “By that logic, the person who killed the village head must be someone in his own household. The game won’t provide useless clues — could it be that both killers are the same person? And the bone-carrying woman has a grievance, so she keeps refusing to bury her husband?”

“Ancient people did have a saying about dying with eyes wide open from lingering injustice,” Shen Mo mused thoughtfully. “The husbands of both Li-shi and Ma-shi were beheaded. The killer could very well be the same person. If we follow the line of reasoning about a wrongful death demanding justice, then only by finding the killer can Li-shi finally lay her husband’s remains to rest.”

“And if we don’t follow that line of reasoning?” Fu Miaoxue asked curiously.

Bai Youwei said: “When a person dies and cannot be laid to rest in the earth, there are only two possible reasons: an enemy yet unvanquished, or a wish yet unfulfilled.”

The bone-carrying woman — did she have an enemy yet unvanquished? Or a wish yet unfulfilled?

The village was small. Without realizing it, amid their conversation, the four arrived at the eastern edge of the village, where a mud-brick house stood.

Compared to the village head’s blue-brick, tiled-roof home, the Li family’s dwelling looked thoroughly destitute.

— There was only one brick room; the kitchen was a simple thatched lean-to thrown up in the yard; the courtyard wall was even more rudimentary — branches and wheat stalks mixed with yellow clay, piled to half a person’s height, with a row of bamboo strips stuck along the top. A firm tug, and clods of earth would cascade down.

The courtyard gate was locked — rust-encrusted, long untended. Shen Mo exerted barely any force at all before the bolt hasp tore free from the wooden gate.

Inside was a scene of utter desolation…

After Li the Scabhead and Li-shi had died, no one had lived here again.

In the yard, yellow paper talismans and dust swirled and tumbled on the wind. Weeds rustled and whispered on the rooftop. The door needed only a gentle push to creak open with a groan.

Two funerals had been held here in succession, and the room still bore traces of the mourning hall that had been set up: a few sheets of spirit money coated in dust, a few white candle stubs burned to nothing, and a wooden tablet standing in the center of the room.

Written on the tablet was a name: *Spirit tablet of the late husband, Li Qianggui.*

Li Qianggui — that must be what Li the Scabhead’s given name had been.

“Didn’t Li-shi die too? Why is there only one tablet in the room?” Fu Miaoxue asked curiously, poking the wooden tablet.

Du Lai pulled her hand back. “After Li-shi died, there was no one left in the family, so naturally there was no one to make a tablet for her.”

Sometimes when a family had few members, neighbors and villagers would help manage the funeral rites together — but a spirit tablet was something only a family member or close relative could erect.

Bai Youwei surveyed the whole room and murmured: “How is it they had not a single child…”

“In that case, let’s go ask the neighbors,” Shen Mo said.

The moment he spoke, everyone fell silent.

They had recited classical texts and solved the Luban lock. So this time… what would it be?

—