Zheng Wenyàn died in his own study.
Night had fully fallen. When Huo Weilou brought Bo Ruoyou to the study, the courtyard was ablaze with lamplight.
Third Madam Liu collapsed on the ground, weeping, with Zheng Wenyàn’s young son Zheng Hao clinging to her. The boy’s face was pale, trembling as he cried, as though he had suffered a terrible fright.
The Embroidered Uniform Guard on duty reported: “The old madam’s funeral rites ended at the hour of You. During that time, I followed Third Master Zheng. Later, he personally escorted the ritual masters out of the estate, then returned to his own courtyard. I remained at the gate. Less than half an hour after he entered, he suddenly left with a grave expression and came straight here. I did not know what troubled him. He entered the study and did not come out again. I kept watch at the gate. After another half hour, Second Young Master Zheng came looking for him. He entered alone. I first heard him knocking. He knocked for a long time, but there was no reply. Just as I sensed something was wrong, I heard him cry out in alarm inside.”
“I rushed in. Second Young Master was pale as snow, collapsed beneath the window, crying out ‘Grandmother.’ I saw he had torn the window paper. Looking through, I saw Third Master sprawled across his desk, the smell of blood heavy in the air. Knowing it was dire, I used my dagger to break the latch. But when I entered, Third Master was already dead.”
Having finished, the guard knelt to plead guilty. “I failed in my duty. Please, Marquis, punish me.”
Huo Weilou had ordered this guard to follow Zheng Wenyàn since morning, and indeed he had remained close all day, later keeping watch outside the courtyard. By his account, there was no dereliction. Yet now, after two deaths in the Zheng household, a third had occurred.
Even so, Huo Weilou’s gaze was stern as he swept over the man. “Go and accept punishment.”
The guard’s face turned pale, but he seemed relieved as he withdrew.
The Third Madam and Zheng Hao had arrived first. Supported by two maids, she sobbed uncontrollably. Huo Weilou knew he could gain nothing from questioning her now, so he entered the study with Bo Ruoyou.
The Zheng estate was vast; each master had a separate courtyard for study. This one had a wide main hall, with small side rooms to the left and right. The central hall was spacious, divided only by a treasure cabinet, and on the right stood tall bookshelves, crammed with volumes. On the left was the reception and study area.
Zheng Wenyàn lay sprawled across his desk. A finely wrought *vajra pestle* was driven into his back, blood streaming down his spine. Beneath the desk and chair, a pool of crimson spread like a lake.
The stench of blood made the scalp prickle. Though Huo Weilou stood in the brightest light, a darkness clung to him, cold and impenetrable. Bo Ruoyou knew — Huo Weilou was enraged.
For a killer to strike here, under his watch, was intolerable.
Cold sweat streamed down Prefect He’s forehead; he could not stop wiping it with his handkerchief.
Eunuch Fu looked at Zheng Wenyàn’s corpse with pity. “In broad daylight, he was still alive, and now…”
“Examine the body.” Huo Weilou suddenly ordered.
Bo Ruoyou acknowledged softly and stepped toward Zheng Wenyàn.
The corpse’s warmth had not fully dissipated, the wound not yet scabbed. With slight movement, she found the body unusually limp and soft. His lips were parted, his eyes half-open, the marks from lying on the desk clearly visible. His arms on the desk and feet on the floor showed no signs of livor mortis. All this indicated Zheng Wenyàn had died within the past half hour.
While Bo Ruoyou examined the body, Huo Weilou surveyed the room. The hall was spacious, its windows provided excellent light — yet every window was locked shut.
Locked from the inside, with the door bolted too. How had the killer entered?
More bizarre still, the murder weapon was the *vajra pestle* driven into Zheng Wenyàn’s back.
The room was silent enough to hear a pin drop. Then, from the courtyard outside, hurried footsteps approached, and the voices of Zheng Wenan and others rang out. Zheng Wenan first comforted the Third Madam, then rushed to the study door.
At the sight of Zheng Wenyàn sprawled across the desk, blood pooling beneath him, Zheng Wenan cried out sorrowfully: “Third Brother—”
Huo Weilou allowed him inside, pointing to the weapon in Zheng Wenyàn’s back. “Do you recognize this?”
Zheng Wenan’s expression changed. “This… this is the ritual implement used today for Mother’s funeral rites. The masters intended to take it away, but Third Brother insisted it be left, saying it should remain in the mourning hall to ward off evil.”
Huo Weilou frowned. “So it was placed in the mourning hall?”
Zheng Wenan shook his head. “No, not yet. It was stored with the other ritual items, to be arranged again tomorrow for Mother’s hall. Third Brother said since the case was unsolved, Mother should lie in state for forty-nine days, with all rites completed before burial.” His nose stung with grief. “This afternoon, he was fine. How could this happen…”
As he spoke, more voices rose in the courtyard. Soon, a graceful, dignified figure appeared at the doorway.
Zheng Yunní stood at the doorway, her face pale with shock. Her beautiful eyes trembled, tears brimming at the corners. “Third Uncle…”
In just one month, three people of the Zheng household had died — all close kin. Zheng Yunní swayed, clutching the doorframe to steady herself.
Zheng Wen’an turned and saw her, speaking with concern: “Yunní, don’t look. Go and stay with your Third Aunt.”
Choking back sobs, Zheng Yunní nodded. She stood frozen for a moment before retreating.
Seeing her, the Third Madam’s wailing grew louder. Zheng Yunní softly comforted her, and after a while, the Third Madam calmed slightly. Huo Weilou, who had ordered the Embroidered Uniform Guards and constables to search the courtyard, walked over.
The Third Madam’s eyes were red from crying. Seeing Huo Weilou approach, she grew fearful. “Marquis, my husband died unjustly. Please, you must find the killer and avenge him…”
She broke into sobs again. Huo Weilou asked sternly: “Zheng Wenyàn had returned to his courtyard. Why did he suddenly come here to the study?”
The Third Madam froze, wiping her tears. “I do not know. Today, my husband was exhausted from the funeral rites for his mother. He meant to rest. But after changing clothes, his expression suddenly changed, and he hurried out. I called after him, but he did not look back. I was preparing the meal then, so I let him go. Later, when the food was ready and he had not returned, I sent Hao’er to find his father. Half an hour later, I learned something had happened.”
She glanced at the study door, crying again. “My husband was only thirty. Hao’er is just seven. How are we to live, mother and child alone…”
Zheng Yunní listened, tears in her eyes, comforting the Third Madam while soothing Zheng Hao.
The boy buried his head in his mother’s arms, still trembling. Huo Weilou looked at him. “What did you see just now?”
If one listened closely, Huo Weilou’s tone was gentler. But to Zheng Hao, Huo Weilou himself was terrifying, no matter how he spoke.
The boy grew more frightened. The Third Madam sobbed: “Marquis, Hao’er said he saw Mother… he said he saw Mother’s ghost.” Her face showed terror. “The doors and windows were locked. If not a ghost, how could anyone enter to kill? But why would Mother harm my husband? He never harmed her. Second Brother died on her seventh day, and today is her second-seventh day…”
Murmuring, her fear grew stronger. She clutched Zheng Hao tightly, as if afraid the ghost would come for them both.
Zheng Yunní shook her head. “Third Aunt, don’t speak nonsense. There are no ghosts or spirits!”
The entire courtyard was gripped by fear of ghostly murder. Only Zheng Yunní remained calm. Huo Weilou glanced at her briefly, then asked the Third Madam: “Before Zheng Wenyàn left, what did he do? Did he see anyone, hear anything?”
The Third Madam looked dazed, struggling to recall. The more she thought, the deeper her frown, clearly unable to remember anything useful.
Just then, Bo Ruoyou’s voice came from inside the room: “Marquis, please come in—”
Huo Weilou did not hesitate. Entering quickly, he saw Bo Ruoyou standing beneath the west window beside the desk, holding something up for him to see. “Marquis, I found the reason Third Master suddenly left.”
Her tone was heavy. Huo Weilou saw clearly — in her hand was a half-burned sheet of paper. It was gold-flecked stationery. Stepping closer, he was unsurprised to read the words: “On my second-seventh day.”
On my seventh day, your death will come.
Yin year, yin hour, for my life to be repaid.
Moments earlier, another sheet of gold-flecked paper had borne the same words, except “seventh day” was now “second-seventh day.”
Huo Weilou and Bo Ruoyou exchanged a look, both eyes filled with grim resolve.
The killer was timing deaths to the old madam’s funeral rites, cloaking them in the guise of her ghost. If the words were true, another death might occur on the next seventh day. Was the killer’s elaborate scheme simply to murder, or was there some deeper purpose?
Both Huo Weilou and Bo Ruoyou felt the same foreboding: beneath the eerie surface of this noble household lay a secret long hidden, now about to emerge.