This was the first time Bo Ruoyou entered the Marquis Anqing’s residence.
The heavy snow had just cleared, and the sky was a brilliant blue. Pavilions and towers stretched in grandeur, painted in vermilion and adorned with splendor. In the distance, snow weighed down the pines and cypresses, their branches glittering like jade; nearby, beneath the white walls, two clusters of wintersweet bloomed defiantly against the cold, their fragrance drifting through the air.
Bo Ruoyou walked slowly behind He Cheng, the Prefect of Qingzhou, while quietly taking in the vast and elegant estate.
It was the thirteenth day of the first lunar month, and the weather was still bitterly cold. Yet He Cheng carried a handkerchief, wiping the thin sweat from his brow as he walked. “To summon you during the New Year, it’s only because I truly have no other choice. This case is terribly difficult. In all of Qingzhou, aside from you, I can’t think of anyone else who could help.”
Two days earlier, constables from the prefectural yamen had gone to Qingshan County. That very night, Bo Ruoyou boarded a carriage bound for Qingzhou City, traveling without pause for two days and nights, arriving at the Marquis’s residence only moments ago.
It could only mean that He Cheng had run into another troublesome case.
He Cheng, stout and round from middle age, wore a fur-lined robe today that made him look even bulkier. “The deceased is the old madam of the Marquis’s household. On New Year’s Eve, she kept vigil in the Buddha hall. But on the morning of the first day, she was found dead there. By the time she was discovered, her body was already stiff. Nearly half a month has passed, yet the cause of death remains unknown. And not only that—strange things have happened in the household…”
Bo Ruoyou was startled. She hadn’t expected the deceased to be the old madam herself.
Qingzhou was a major stronghold in the south of the Great Zhou dynasty. Though hundreds of miles from the capital, it was home to many noble families. The Zheng clan of the Marquis Anqing was one such family. From the time she set out until she entered the city, Bo Ruoyou had heard no word of the old madam’s death—proof that the household had kept the matter tightly concealed.
Seeing He Cheng fall silent, Bo Ruoyou asked softly, “Strange things?”
Her voice was gentle and clear. He Cheng turned to look at her: bright eyes like stars, brows fine as ink strokes, dressed in a blue Xiang skirt with a pale cloak patterned with bamboo branches. She carried herself with quiet grace and composure, like a steadfast bamboo.
He Cheng sighed and looked away. “First, let’s examine the body. The old madam’s death is peculiar. She had no chronic illness, no visible injuries, and it wasn’t poison. You know how it is—when the cause of death can’t be determined, and there are no other clues, the case is impossible to pursue. These past days, my head feels as heavy as a drum.”
Bo Ruoyou sensed he was holding something back. Seeing his sweat-soaked brow, she reassured him: “Every death must have a cause. Please rest assured, sir—I will do my utmost.”
He Cheng gave a bitter smile. “I trust you. But you must be quick.”
His tone grew heavier. “You are one of us, so I won’t hide it. You know the Marquis Anqing’s household is of exalted status. The old madam herself was born into the Marquis Xinyang’s family, and if you trace further back, she was the cousin of the late Empress Dowager Xiaoyi. Her death is therefore of great consequence. News of the case has already reached the capital. Marquis Xinyang has dispatched people to Qingzhou—they may arrive tonight.”
He Cheng drew a deep breath. “The case has been sealed under strict secrecy. The household insists it must be solved quietly, without a sound. For now, I’ll take you to examine the body. But you must find the cause of death before dusk—no, not even by dusk. Within one hour, if possible.”
Only then did Bo Ruoyou understand the urgency behind He Cheng’s anxiety. Though not a native of Qingzhou, she had grown up in Qingshan County, which was under its jurisdiction. By chance, she had become the county yamen’s coroner. Normally, He Cheng only summoned her for long-unsolved cases or those involving many deaths.
Seeing He Cheng anxious as if his brows were on fire, Bo Ruoyou also gathered her focus. The two of them turned past two flower beds, and the deeper they went, the more secluded the location became. Just as Bo Ruoyou was about to ask how much farther the place of repose was, a quiet little courtyard came into view.
The courtyard had white walls and gray tiles, with snow still unmelted outside. Two clusters of purple bamboo stood tall and green. He Cheng said, “This is where the old madam lies in rest.”
He led Bo Ruoyou through the gate. As soon as she stepped inside, Bo Ruoyou frowned.
White mourning banners hung in the yard, but strangely, beneath the eaves were two wooden gourds painted with cinnabar. Outside the main door stood an ancient bronze cauldron, incense sticks burning within. Above the door, two bright yellow talisman papers were firmly pasted.
Inside the courtyard, only two yamen runners kept watch. Seeing He Cheng bring a woman, they showed no surprise; instead, they cupped their hands respectfully to Bo Ruoyou. “Miss Bo.”
Bo Ruoyou had examined bodies at the prefectural yamen many times before and was already familiar with these men. She nodded, and He Cheng asked, “Has anyone come today?”
The runners shook their heads in unison. He Cheng seemed relieved, then led Bo Ruoyou toward the main hall. At the door, he stopped, his round body swelling as he drew in a deep breath.
Bo Ruoyou thought to herself: The case happened days ago—why would He Cheng still fear the old madam’s corpse?
Just as the thought settled, He Cheng pushed the door open. Bo Ruoyou instinctively looked inside—and at once, her expression stiffened. Now she understood why He Cheng had taken such a deep breath.
The hall was square and dim. In the very center lay the bier, upon which the old madam of the Marquis’s household rested. She wore a black mourning robe embroidered with longevity patterns, the traditional five-collar, three-belt attire. Though the weather was bitterly cold, she had been dead for nearly half a month. From the collar, her face was visible; from the sleeves, her hands protruded—both swollen and mottled with livid corpse spots, no longer human in form.
But what made Bo Ruoyou’s color change was not this.
The hall was spacious, the bier standing alone in its emptiness. Yet flanking it on both sides were more than ten paper effigies of boys and girls, gaudy in red and green.
The paper children stood half the height of a person. The boys wore bright red brocade, the girls deep green skirts. They surrounded the bier like real children gathered around a grandmother. If they had been alive, it would have been a scene of familial joy. But the grandmother was dead, and the grandchildren were false.
Anyone who saw such a sight would feel their skin crawl.
Bo Ruoyou pulled her cloak tighter. “My lord, this…”
He Cheng seemed helpless. “It’s a long story. Don’t be afraid — they’re all fake. First, examine the body.”
Bo Ruoyou thought to herself: Even if they were real, it would be just as terrifying. Stepping inside, her breath caught. She first smelled a faint metallic tang of blood. Looking closer in the dim light, she saw that the bier was covered with talismans, and the paper boys and girls were painted with strange vermilion symbols.
Bo Ruoyou frowned. “My lord, does the household believe that the old madam dying during the New Year is inauspicious?”
The blood scent was from a dog’s blood. Combined with the gourds and bronze cauldron in the courtyard, the cinnabar charms, and the paper effigies, this was no simple ritual to ward off evil. It looked more like an attempt to suppress some malignant spirit.
He Cheng sighed. “If it were only that, it would be simple. Go ahead and examine the body. Xiao Bo, this time I truly rely on you. If the envoys from the capital arrive and I still have nothing, I won’t be able to explain myself.”
The instruments were all prepared; she could begin at any time. Yet staring at those paper effigies, Bo Ruoyou felt uneasy. “My lord, could these things be moved aside?”
He Cheng gave a bitter smile. Clearly, he was unsettled by the paper children. “They must not be touched—”
Bo Ruoyou sighed. “Then please add two more lamps.”
The lamps were quickly lit. Under their glow, the paper boys and girls appeared even more garishly frightening.
Paper effigies were called “summoning the gate of shadows,” steeped in yin energy. There was a rule: their eyes were painted but not dotted, so now their hollow black gaze seemed to fix upon her. Though a chill crept into her heart, Bo Ruoyou’s face remained calm. She lit herbs, such as atractylodes, to dispel odor, placed a fragrant pill in her mouth, and then approached the bier to examine the body. The moment her eyes fell upon the corpse, her entire bearing changed. Gentleness faded; solemn focus filled her gaze. The aura of quiet grace was instantly wrapped in a frost of “keep away.” Even He Cheng held his breath, not daring to disturb her.
Seeing her like this, He Cheng couldn’t help but recall the first time he summoned her to examine a body.
That was two winters ago, when a massacre occurred in Qingzhou City. The prefectural coroner had examined the bodies for days without finding a cause of death. The yamen had searched in vain for clues. In his despair, He Cheng heard of a skilled female coroner in Qingshan County, said to make the dead “speak.” Half skeptical, he summoned her.
It was five days before he finally saw the legendary female coroner. But when she appeared, she was only a young girl with a face like a flower. He Cheng was furious, thinking he had been deceived by rumors. Yet that very night, Bo Ruoyou examined dozens of decayed corpses, quickly deducing the killer’s method and even sketching out seven or eight parts of the murderer’s likeness. Three days later, the case was solved. At year’s end, it became a shining achievement recorded in He Cheng’s merit book.
At that time, Bo Ruoyou was only sixteen years old, yet already as calm and steady as she was today. Her gaze now was deep and penetrating, sweeping over every detail of the corpse. The funeral robe was tightly fastened, but the rot at the neck had soaked the collar with corpse fluid. The face was no longer human in form, yet bore no external wounds. After a brief pause, she leaned forward and loosened the robe. The degree of decay exceeded her expectations, worsened by incense and candles once lit in the room.
The warmer the chamber, the faster the rot. Now not only the lips and nose oozed foul fluids, but the chest and abdomen bore green mold and tiny maggots. Other parts of the body showed corpse-green and swelling. By lamplight, she could even see branching purple veins bulging beneath the skin.
Even so, the body was intact: no bruising at the neck, no suspicious marks on the chest, abdomen, legs, or back. The hands and feet showed only ordinary decay. Corpse spots had already settled and spread. From these signs alone, nothing unusual appeared. After examining the surface, Bo Ruoyou pressed carefully over the internal organs, then inspected the scalp, where hair had begun to fall with rot.
After two sticks of incense had burned, she straightened and said solemnly: “There are indeed no signs of poisoning, nor of external injury. No foreign objects in the head or body caused death.”
With every word she spoke, He Cheng’s face grew more despondent. When she finished, he was nearly in tears. “So you cannot find the cause of death either?”
“Not finding these causes does not mean there is no cause.” Pausing, Bo Ruoyou said firmly, “I suspect the old madam died from a hidden illness that suddenly struck. To confirm, an autopsy is required.”
He Cheng was startled. “The old madam was always healthy. And with her noble status, how could we possibly dissect her body?”
In Great Zhou, funeral customs were conservative. Even in death, the body must not be harmed.
Bo Ruoyou had encountered such situations countless times, so she was not surprised. She explained calmly: “Many hidden illnesses show no signs in life, yet can cause sudden death. To reach a conclusion, only dissection will suffice. The old madam was elderly; hidden diseases in her organs are very possible. But which illness, I cannot judge from the surface. Once we know, we can compare with her condition at the time of death, and determine whether others were involved.”
Few coroners dared to perform autopsies, but Bo Ruoyou was known for it. He Cheng knew she was right, yet sighed. “Whether we can dissect is not for me to decide. In this household, the masters rule. To cut open the body, their consent is needed.”
Seeing her confusion, He Cheng explained: “After marrying the old Marquis, the old madam bore five sons. The eldest inherited the title after the Marquis died, but three years ago, he too passed away, leaving no heir. The title has remained vacant. Since then, the old madam has managed the household. The other four sons lived here as well. Now that she has died, the third and fifth sons are in charge. They will likely refuse.”
Bo Ruoyou asked instinctively: “And the second and fourth sons?”
At her question, He Cheng’s expression turned strange. His eyes flicked to the corpse, and he even stepped back toward the door, as if afraid the old madam might rise.
“The fourth son is traveling abroad, now hurrying home.” He should have continued about the second son, but his words broke off. Again he stepped back toward the door. “I told you before—the household has suffered strange happenings since her death—”
Bo Ruoyou did not know why he repeated himself, but she wanted to know. She looked at him quietly.
He Cheng’s lips pressed tight, his eyes showing fear. “The old madam was found on the morning of the first day. The coroner judged she died between midnight and dawn. At that time, the third master and others said her death was tied to the second master. All last year, he and the old madam quarreled bitterly over the succession to the title. On New Year’s Eve, they fought again.”
Bo Ruoyou said softly: “Then now, the second master is imprisoned?”
He Cheng’s gaze hardened. “No. He is dead.”
“Not only dead, but in full view of all, the old madam pushed him from the third floor of Yaoyue Pavilion.”
Bo Ruoyou’s brows furrowed instantly. “But the old madam was already…”
“That day was the seventh of the first month — her *seventh-day* memorial,” He Cheng explained, his gaze involuntarily drifting toward the corpse. “So, everyone in the household says it was the old madam’s ghost, seeking revenge, that killed the second master.”
T/n: In Chinese folk belief, it is said that the spirit of the deceased returns home on the seventh day after death.
At that, though her back was to the corpse, even Bo Ruoyou felt a chill crawl up her spine. She now understood why so many paper effigies had been placed. Ritual masters often claimed that when an elder’s soul was restless, it could become malevolent. Offering paper children was said to pacify or suppress such spirits.
Bo Ruoyou steadied herself. “So this case actually has two dead. My lord, do you believe ghosts can kill?”
He Cheng gave a bitter smile. “If I did, then every difficult case would have its excuse. Why would I call you whenever I’m at a loss?”
Bo Ruoyou’s voice was firm. “Whether ghosts kill or not, I cannot say. But men pretending to be spirits to harm others — that is all too easy. My lord, should we also examine the second master’s body?”
He Cheng sighed. “It must be examined. But at present, it is difficult. After the second master’s death, the third master insisted he was the murderer. The body has been kept elsewhere, awaiting proof that he harmed the old madam. Thus, the yamen has not yet examined him.”
Qingzhou was full of noble families, and the Marquis Anqing’s household was especially exalted. He Cheng, though a prefect, was of humble birth and had no powerful background. Thus, he had to tread carefully, and in this case, he was completely constrained. Sweat poured from his brow, showing his deep anxiety. Glancing at the sun already slanting westward, he knew he could not delay. Once night fell and envoys from the capital arrived, matters would only worsen. “Enough. I’ll go now to speak with the third master. If I can gain permission, I’ll trust you to examine the body—”
He Cheng could be overly cautious, but in official duty, he was rarely negligent. He was, in truth, a good official who sought justice for the people. Bo Ruoyou said, “Very well. I will wait here.”
He Cheng nodded, pointing to a side room. “Stay there — it’s warmer.”
With that, he turned and left, giving instructions to a runner, and departed with one of them.
Once He Cheng was gone and the runners remained outside, the hall was left to Bo Ruoyou alone. Now that she understood the purpose of the ritual setup, her initial fear had faded. She turned to face the old madam’s corpse. She had never seen a ghost, nor did she believe in ghostly murder. She only wondered: in this grand household, who could have disguised themselves as the old madam to kill the second master, then vanish without a trace, leaving everyone to believe it was a spirit? And the old madam herself — was her death truly from hidden illness, or was she murdered?
He Cheng’s absence stretched longer than she expected. She watched the sun sink lower, then saw clouds drift across, dimming the light. Cold wind rustled through the courtyard, as if snow might fall again.
Waiting too long, with the weather turning, Bo Ruoyou grew anxious. She paced the courtyard.
Snow lay thick, like white silk upon the ground, the mourning banners above swaying in the wind. The little courtyard seemed all the more bleak and desolate. Seeing no sign of He Cheng, her heart sank. If he delayed so long, it could only mean he had failed to persuade the masters of the household.
“Is there no other way besides dissection?” As Bo Ruoyou pondered, footsteps finally sounded outside the courtyard.
The steps were many — a large group was approaching!
Her face tightened, and she quickly moved toward the gate to greet them. But just as she reached it, her steps faltered.
There were indeed many people coming. Before she even saw He Cheng, her gaze collided with a pair of phoenix eyes, cold as a frozen lake. Their owner was tall and commanding, with sharp, handsome features. He wore a dark black robe embroidered with golden dragons, exuding the domineering aura of nobility. The cold wind lifted snow from the ground, sending it swirling upward, and caught the hem of his robe, making the golden dragon pattern flare.
Bo Ruoyou’s heart gave a jolt — *royalty!*
She froze. Those phoenix eyes, upon seeing her, instantly darkened. A chilling voice rang out: “Why is there a woman here?”
The displeasure was unmistakable. He Cheng hurried forward in alarm, his voice trembling. “My lord, forgive me, forgive me. This is the coroner I summoned.” He shot Bo Ruoyou a warning glance. “Why are you standing there? This is Marquis Wuzhao — pay your respects!”
The change came too suddenly. Fortunately, Bo Ruoyou was always composed. She recovered at once, lowered her gaze, and knelt. As she knelt, her expression grew solemn.
It was Marquis Wuzhao!
Though she had grown up in Qingshan County and knew little of Qingzhou’s nobles, the name “Marquis Wuzhao” was thunder in her ears. He was like the sun and moon in the heavens, casting his light across every inch of Great Zhou.
Marquis Wuzhao — Huo Weilou. His mother was the current Princess Royal, his father the hereditary Duke Ding. At eighteen, he was ennobled for his military achievements. Later, he was entrusted by the Emperor with overseeing the Embroidered Uniform Guard, investigating officials high and low, and presiding over the Three Judicial Offices. He was second only to the Emperor himself. Ordinary people feared him; officials dreaded him like the King of Hell. It was said that, just last year alone, he dismissed and prosecuted nearly 100 officials for incompetence.
Bo Ruoyou’s heart trembled with shock. At that moment, she heard Huo Weilou’s voice, low and cold: “The coroner of Qingzhou Prefecture is a mere young girl?”