“Lu Lian, courtesy name Zhuoguang, pays his respects to all the honorable—”
Lu Zhuoguang loved watching traditional opera.
It was just past noon, and he was standing outside an opera house with a crowd of idle onlookers. The bitter winter wind carried the noise of people coming and going, while the rising and falling melodies from inside the theater drifted out intermittently.
Before long, he recognized the performance as The Thunder God’s Punishment of the Evil General, a popular opera that had been all the rage recently.
He couldn’t help feeling disappointed.
Over the past few years, the play had been revised again and again, becoming increasingly popular with each new version. It told the story of a foolish and incompetent barbarian general who suffered ten consecutive defeats in the northern frontier. In the end, the general abandoned his wife and children and fled for his life, causing the Great Qi dynasty to lose a hundred li of territory and suffer countless casualties.
The disaster brought upon the people was so great that the Thunder God descended from the heavens. He caught the fleeing barbarian general and struck him down with heavenly lightning, executing him on the spot.
The thunderfire burned through ten li of woodland and stopped the invading enemy forces in their tracks. This bought enough time for reinforcements to arrive at the northern frontier, preventing the Great Qi dynasty from losing half its territory.
This was a story known to every citizen of Great Qi.
The truth, however, was rather different.
The barbarian general, who had been responsible for countless deaths, had not actually been struck down by the Thunder God. Instead, he had met a far more humiliating end: he was captured alive by the enemy, beheaded, and his head was displayed publicly as a warning to others.
Even now, several years after his death, the Great Qi dynasty had yet to recover all the territory it had lost.
The general’s name was Helian, and the people still hated him with every fiber of their being. As a result, storytellers had invented more than a dozen different versions of his execution, ensuring that he suffered a particularly miserable death in every performance.
At that moment, the drums and gongs inside the opera house boomed like thunder.
The performance had reached the scene in which the Thunder God descended from heaven to deliver divine justice. The audience burst into applause, cheering loudly. Even the idle people gathered outside joined in the laughter.
Lu Zhuoguang, however, remained unimpressed.
He had never been particularly interested in this play.
Fortunately, the guard who had come to escort him had finally arrived. After searching through the crowd, the guard spotted Lu Zhuoguang’s exceptionally tall figure and hurried over.
“Young Master Lu, the officials are all waiting for you in the carriage,” he said quietly.
Lu Zhuoguang turned his head slightly, allowing the sunlight to fall across his face.
He had a pair of deep, jet-black eyes that contrasted beautifully with his fair complexion. His eyebrows were neat and well-defined, and whenever he smiled, his features took on a gentle, refined elegance.
Even his voice was clear and pleasant to the ear.
“Let’s go,” he replied.
The carriage was parked beside the road. It was spacious and imposing, with three seats arranged around a small tea table inside. Each seat was occupied by a man.
The man sitting in the middle was Qi Xuan, who wore the official uniform of the Ministry of Justice. He was the emperor’s nephew, the Prince of Ling, and also served as the Minister of Justice.
At present, he had his eyes closed, resting quietly.
The man sitting on the left wore a luxurious sable-fur cloak. His appearance was extravagant, and he was the only son of the Grand Secretary, one of the most powerful officials in the imperial court. He worked at the Supreme Court and was named Zhao Ke.
Zhao Ke was a man who loved extravagance and grand displays.
Although he had been ordered to accompany the others on official business, he had managed to turn the journey into quite a spectacle. Not only had he brought along his beloved concubine, but more than a dozen guards had also accompanied the carriage, surrounding it at both the front and back.
Wherever his party went, people stopped to stare, causing delays at every turn.
Now, he had even insisted on taking a detour through half the city just to pick up a minor guest of the Zhao household.
He certainly behaved like a spoiled young master who believed himself above the law.
Zhao Ke held a string of bodhi prayer beads in his hand, rolling them between his fingers until they clicked noisily.
The sound was particularly irritating inside the carriage.
The young man sitting on the right glanced at him and silently cursed him in his heart.
That spoiled Zhao heir is dressed up like a peacock. Does he look like someone who has come here to handle official business?
The young man was Cui Hui, the newly appointed Deputy Right Censor-in-Chief of the Censorate.
He had only just received his promotion and had barely settled into his new position when an important assignment landed on his shoulders. Before leaving the capital, he had been full of enthusiasm, rolling up his sleeves and preparing to accomplish something significant.
Unfortunately, after spending the entire morning dealing with Zhao Ke’s laziness and indulgence, most of his enthusiasm had already worn away.
Yet Zhao Ke was the only son of Grand Secretary Zhao, a powerful figure in the imperial court. Although Zhao Ke himself held no particularly high office, his father’s influence ensured that people treated him with deference wherever he went.
Even when an entire morning had been wasted because of him, Prince Ling, who was sitting in the same carriage, had not uttered a single word of criticism.
Cui Hui was silently grinding his teeth in frustration when a voice suddenly came from outside.
“Your Highness, the man has arrived.”
Prince Ling opened his eyes slightly.
“Let him in.”
The scholar for whom the carriage had gone out of its way to travel halfway across the city was a guest of the Zhao household.
In those days, a menke, or household retainer, was someone who attached himself to a noble family or powerful official, offering his skills and knowledge in exchange for food, shelter, and financial support.
Although retainers generally enjoyed a slightly higher status than ordinary servants or household attendants, many were still regarded as dependents who lived off their patrons. Some people looked down on them for that very reason.
Lu Zhuoguang, however, was different.
He had distinguished himself among the many retainers under the Zhao family.
Cui Hui had heard about him from his colleagues long ago. Whenever Zhao Ke attended social gatherings, he usually brought Lu Zhuoguang along. The two behaved like close friends, addressing each other as brothers.
On some occasions, Lu Zhuoguang had even appeared beside Grand Secretary Zhao himself.
It seemed that he was enjoying considerable favor within the household.
According to the rumors, although Lu Zhuoguang possessed the title of a xiucai—a scholar who had passed the lower-level imperial examination—his appearance was far more impressive than his academic achievements.
No one seemed to know what methods he had used to stand out among the Zhao family’s many retainers and earn such favorable treatment.
Cui Hui had been curious about him for quite some time.
The moment he heard that Lu Zhuoguang had arrived, he immediately turned his attention toward the carriage door.
The carriage rocked slightly as someone lifted the heavy curtain.
The first thing to appear was a pair of gentle eyes, clear and warm like polished jade.
Then the man bent down and stepped inside.
When he raised his face, Cui Hui finally saw his appearance clearly.
The rumors had not exaggerated. Lu Zhuoguang was exceptionally handsome.
His eyebrows and eyes were dark and striking, while the faint smile on his lips softened his otherwise bold features. Altogether, he possessed a gentle, scholarly elegance that made him pleasant to look at.
He slowly bowed to the three officials.
His movements were unhurried, almost leisurely, giving him the air of a refined gentleman.
“Lu Lian, courtesy name Zhuoguang, pays his respects to all the honorable officials.”
Zhao Ke immediately greeted him with great enthusiasm.
“Brother Zhuoguang, we’ve been waiting for you! Come, sit here!”
Lu Zhuoguang showed no embarrassment at having kept three important officials waiting. He calmly took the seat beside Zhao Ke.
Compared with the young master, who had a broad nose, narrow eyes, and rather unremarkable features, Lu Zhuoguang’s appearance seemed even more extraordinary.
Cui Hui still had no idea how much the man actually knew.
However, judging from his bearing and appearance alone, the word outstanding was certainly appropriate.
Once everyone had settled in, the carriage began moving slowly.
As luck would have it, the opera inside the theater was reaching its conclusion. Applause and cheers drifted through the streets and into the carriage.
Prince Ling turned toward Lu Zhuoguang and asked in a gentle voice, “Young Scholar Lu, do you enjoy listening to opera?”
Lu Zhuoguang’s eyes shifted slightly. His gaze settled lightly on the prince before he answered.
“When I have some free time, I occasionally stand outside and listen to a few lines. It is simply a way to pass the time.”
Prince Ling chuckled.
“That reminds me of an amusing incident. In the opera profession, once an actor puts on a painted face, it can be difficult to tell whether the performer is male or female. Some time ago, a young master spent a fortune supporting his favorite performer. Only after the show ended did he discover that the beautiful actress was actually a man. He grabbed the performer by the collar and demanded his money back. The whole affair became a laughingstock.”
Lu Zhuoguang looked puzzled.
“How could anyone fail to distinguish between a man and a woman? A woman’s breathing is usually finer, and because her bones are lighter, her footsteps and movements tend to be more delicate. Even without looking at her face, there should still be ways to tell the difference.”
His answer sounded rather strange.
Apart from Zhao Ke, everyone inside the carriage turned to look at him at the same time.
Lu Zhuoguang’s clothes appeared somewhat old-fashioned and worn, but his collar was snow-white, and the fabric remained neat and smooth. He wore no gold or silver ornaments. His fair skin and clean appearance only enhanced his refined bearing.
From head to toe, he looked every bit the part of a well-educated scholar.
No one could tell whether he had simply made an absurd remark on a whim or whether he truly possessed the ability to distinguish a person’s gender by listening to their breathing and observing the weight of their footsteps.
Before anyone could question him further, however, Lu Zhuoguang smoothly changed the subject.
“I certainly don’t have enough spare money to spend a fortune supporting an opera performer,” he said with a smile. “I only listen to a few lines from time to time for entertainment.”
Once the carriage left the busy streets behind, it gradually picked up speed. Before long, it passed through the city gates and headed south.
Why had three high-ranking officials and one scholar gathered in a carriage and left the capital just before the end of the year?
The answer lay in an urgent report that had arrived in the capital several days earlier.
The county magistrate of Danyu County, Xu Feng, had suddenly been murdered.
As soon as the urgent report reached the capital, it was immediately submitted to the emperor.
The timing could hardly have been worse.
The country was already suffering from natural disasters during the bitter winter season. Rivers had frozen several feet deep, while the southern regions continued to endure devastating floods. Countless ordinary people had frozen to death, and the imperial court was struggling to deal with the mounting crisis.
Now, news of a government official’s murder had arrived on top of everything else.
The emperor flew into a rage and publicly berated the officials responsible for failing to carry out their duties properly.
Under ordinary circumstances, the suspicious death of a minor county magistrate would hardly have been enough to mobilize so many important figures in the imperial court.
The reason this case had attracted such extraordinary attention was that Xu Feng was no ordinary official.
Thirteen years earlier, Xu Feng had been a highly respected tutor to the Crown Prince. He had enjoyed considerable prestige and had once been a prominent figure in the imperial court.
He had also grown up alongside the man who now served as the Left Censor-in-Chief, and the two had been classmates at the Imperial Academy.
Xu Feng was known for his gentle temperament, humility, courtesy, and integrity. As an official, he had always been upright and impartial. He enjoyed an excellent reputation and had built many friendships throughout the court.
However, everything changed when the Crown Prince was framed by enemies and accused of plotting to seize the throne.
The late emperor flew into a rage and stripped the Crown Prince of his title. At first, the fallen heir was imprisoned in a remote valley known as Death Valley. Later, he was exiled to Lingnan, far from the capital.
The court subsequently launched an investigation into everyone associated with the Eastern Palace.
As the Crown Prince’s tutor, Xu Feng was among the first to be punished.
Only after numerous officials pleaded on his behalf was his life spared. His position was stripped away, his social status was reduced to that of a common criminal, and he was sent to the northern frontier.
After the current emperor ascended the throne, the old case was finally reviewed. The Crown Prince’s name was cleared, and the accusations against his followers were overturned.
Xu Feng was also released from his degraded status.
Yet despite having the opportunity to return to the capital and reclaim a more comfortable life, he chose not to.
Instead, he requested a position as county magistrate in Danyu County, claiming that he wished to spend his remaining years in peace and retirement.
Unfortunately, he had not enjoyed even a few peaceful years before news of his death reached the capital.
The Left Censor-in-Chief had been deeply attached to Xu Feng. Upon hearing that his old friend had been murdered, he braved the bitter wind and snow and rushed to the palace in the middle of the night.
He wept so bitterly that his tears and runny nose streamed down his face. He begged the emperor to investigate the case thoroughly and nearly froze to death while standing in the icy weather.
Prince Ling, Qi Xuan, was even more devastated.
In front of the assembled civil and military officials, he had broken down in uncontrollable sobs, soaking both sleeves with tears.
Because he was none other than the former Crown Prince who had been framed thirteen years ago.
From the time he was a young boy beginning his education, Xu Feng had served as his tutor. He had grown up under the man’s guidance and had learned much of what he knew from him.
To Qi Xuan, Xu Feng was not merely a teacher. He was someone who had shaped his entire life.
Now that his beloved teacher had been murdered, Qi Xuan was determined to travel to Danyu County personally and uncover the identity of the person responsible.
He would not rest until the truth was revealed.
Afterward, Grand Secretary Zhao arranged for his son, Zhao Ke, to accompany the prince.
His responsibilities were twofold: first, to assist Prince Ling with the investigation, and second, to deliver the funeral gifts and help settle Xu Feng’s wife and children.
The Censorate also dispatched Cui Hui to accompany them. His duties included assisting with the investigation and supervising the proceedings to ensure that everything was handled properly.
Originally, the party was supposed to consist of only three men traveling with minimal arrangements.
However, Zhao Ke had little interest in traveling simply.
Not only did he bring Lu Zhuoguang along as his personal retainer, but he also brought two beautiful concubines and more than a dozen guards.
Their procession looked less like an official investigative mission and more like a wealthy young master’s leisurely excursion.
After leaving the capital, Zhao Ke even openly admired the scenery along the way, showing no apparent urgency to reach their destination.
Prince Ling, Qi Xuan, was naturally kind and easygoing. He was also still immersed in the grief of losing his beloved teacher, which made him even quieter than usual.
Consequently, no matter how dissatisfied Cui Hui became, he could only swallow his complaints. He had no opportunity to speak his mind openly.
As for Lu Zhuoguang, he always wore a warm, courteous smile, but remained quiet for most of the journey.
He spent nearly all his time reading and rarely initiated conversations with anyone.
It was difficult to tell whether he was simply too weak to lift anything heavy or whether his hands were too precious to be burdened with ordinary tasks.
Apart from his books, writing brushes, and paper, he refused to carry anything himself.
He summoned the guards to assist him even more frequently than Zhao Ke did.
In practice, he behaved like a second young master of the Zhao household, ranking just below Zhao Ke himself.
The carriage stopped only at relay stations to rest.
For two consecutive days, the party traveled from early morning until late at night, barely taking any breaks.
By the time they reached Danyu County, it was already around five in the afternoon.
The city gates were heavily guarded. Soldiers stood in several layers, inspecting everyone entering or leaving the city.
The guards stopped the entire party outside the gates and subjected them to a lengthy inspection, delaying their entry by fifteen minutes.
It was not until around seven in the evening that they were finally allowed inside.
The deputy county magistrate hurried out to welcome them, braving the freezing wind as he repeatedly apologized for the delay.
He explained that natural disasters had been frequent throughout the southern regions. Snow had fallen for days, and countless people had died or been injured. Many refugees fleeing the disaster had passed through the area.
The multiple layers of guards at the city gates were intended to prevent displaced people from entering the city and causing unrest.
Furthermore, since the county magistrate had recently been murdered, the entire city had been placed under heightened security.
The deputy county magistrate was named Feng Zong, a man over forty years old.
He was remarkably efficient.
First, he ordered the yamen runners to carry the visitors’ luggage to the accommodations prepared for them. Then he invited them into a warm room heated by a brazier and served them steaming hot tea to help them recover from the cold.
He was so busy running around that sweat soon covered his forehead.
Before long, he had arranged everything for his distinguished guests.
Once everyone was settled, he immediately began reporting the details of Xu Feng’s murder.
However, the first thing this seemingly reliable and efficient official said after sitting down was utterly absurd.
“Honorable officials, ever since Magistrate Xu was murdered, this humble official has been unable to sleep peacefully. I have investigated the case repeatedly, day and night. After much consideration, I must respectfully offer my opinion: this case could not have been committed by a human being. I’m afraid we may never find the murderer.”
Qi Xuan had not even had time to shake off the dust and exhaustion of the journey.
The moment he heard those words, his expression darkened.
“What do you mean by that? What do you mean it could not have been committed by a human being? Are you suggesting that my teacher was killed by an animal?”
Feng Zong looked frightened. He did not dare meet the prince’s eyes, yet he gritted his teeth and continued.
“Please forgive this humble official, Your Highness. I believe Magistrate Xu was not murdered by a human being. Rather, his life was claimed by the underworld’s messengers of death.”