— How did Li Qianggui die?

The old man inside was quiet for a moment, then slowly began: “Ah… you’re asking about Li the Scabhead next door?”

Shen Mo nodded. “Yes, Li the Scabhead.”

The old man replied: “Last autumn… I think it was shortly after the Mid-Autumn Festival — Li-shi came to my home to borrow white cloth, saying her husband had died. We rushed over to the Li family, and saw Li the Scabhead lying in bed, his head cut off, the whole bed soaked in blood.

When we asked Li-shi what had happened, she was in a vacant, senseless state, unable to speak coherently.

Since there was no one else in the Li family, several households in the village helped manage the funeral. At the mourning hall, Li-shi suddenly broke into hysterical laughter. After that, she stopped eating and drinking — wouldn’t let a drop of water pass her lips — and before long, she was gone too.”

The old woman sitting at the threshold let out a long sigh. “Li-shi… she was a pitiable woman…”

It was a fairly candid answer. She had said everything that needed to be said — no deliberate evasion of key clues, no wordplay.

Now it was Du Lai and Fu Miaoxue’s turn to ask the second question.

After a brief whispered exchange, Fu Miaoxue eagerly posed it:

“The villagers bolt their doors at night and refuse to open them — is it because they’re afraid of the bone-carrying woman? Why?”

The old woman began tapping her pipe, knocking it against the ground with a steady *thunk thunk*, clearly very displeased with Fu Miaoxue’s question. “My old man only knows things related to the Li family next door.”

Fu Miaoxue pursed her lips. “Hmph~”

Du Lai murmured a few words in her ear.

Fu Miaoxue’s eyes rolled around in their sockets, and she posed the question anew: “After the Li family line died out, why did everyone start bolting their doors tightly at night and refusing to open them?”

There — now it was related to the Li family.

Fu Miaoxue wasn’t done after just asking. She went on, arms akimbo and full of righteous fire: “If you ask me, it was your lot who drove Li-shi to her death! Bloody useless lot — stop talking out of all sides of your mouths! I know how this goes, I’ve seen it plenty — husband dies, leaves behind a widow with no support, easy target, isn’t she? Everyone in this village had a hand in Li-shi’s death! You all wanted to seize the Li family’s land! Their house! That’s why Li-shi cannot rest in peace — she pushes her husband’s remains forward, unable to lay him in the earth!”

The old woman found herself inexplicably saddled with a headful of accusations, and flew into such a fury that smoke nearly billowed from her nose. She shot to her feet and shouted: “*Xing ying mang! Gong!!!*”

Fu Miaoxue was furious, and pointed at the old woman as she demanded of the others: “Is she cursing me in the Fuzhou dialect?!!”

Bai Youwei stood to the side gloating: “Don’t you understand the Min dialect?”

Fu Miaoxue said indignantly: “Understanding Min opera and being able to speak the Min dialect are two completely different things!”

Just as some people can sing Cantonese songs without actually being able to speak Cantonese.

The old man inside got agitated too, raising his voice: “The Li family was dirt poor — what would we gain by murdering them for profit?! The reason the village bolts its doors at night is because Li-shi’s vengeful spirit has not dispersed! Everyone is afraid of inviting malevolent forces into their homes, so at night, no matter what sounds they hear, they won’t open their doors!

Li the Scabhead had a head full of scabs and not a coin to his name — if it weren’t for the village helping out, he couldn’t even have afforded a wife! How could we possibly be scheming after his estate?! What utter nonsense!”

Fu Miaoxue listened, blinked, and turned to murmur quietly to Du Lai: “Hmm, wrong guess.”

Rather disappointed.

Du Lai asked Shen Mo and Bai Youwei: “There’s still a third question. Do either of you have something you’d like to ask?”

Shen Mo frowned slightly and said: “I had originally planned to ask whether the Li family had any enemies, but given all this, the possibility of a vendetta seems unlikely.”

Du Lai also nodded. “In a rural mountain village, if a killing happens at all, it’s usually the result of a verbal quarrel turned violent on impulse. But a killing in the middle of the night suggests premeditated planning — and yet, if it was truly planned out in advance, why kill only Li the Scabhead and leave Li-shi unharmed when she was in the same bed?”

Bai Youwei looked at them both and said: “If neither of you has a question, I would like to ask why Li the Scabhead and Li-shi had no children.”

—