In the bureaucracy of Great Zhou, no one was unaware of Huo Weilou’s temperament. Though he held power over the entire court, he was never indulgent in women, and most of all despised any trace of “female influence” in official duties. The number of officials punished by him for matters involving women was beyond count.
He Cheng was instantly terrified. “No, no… she is not a coroner of Qingzhou Prefecture. She is from Qingshan County, under this prefecture’s jurisdiction.”
Huo Weilou was barely past twenty, yet standing before the crowd, he carried the weight of a mountain peak. His phoenix eyes narrowed, his voice sharper than the winter wind: “That impoverished little county, the one ranked lowest in Qingzhou’s annual tax records?”
He Cheng was startled. He hadn’t expected Huo Weilou to know Qingzhou so well. Fearing for his subordinate, he hurried to explain: “Miss Bo serves as coroner in Qingshan County, but she is not of the lowly registered class, nor officially employed by the yamen. She knows medicine, and her skill in examining corpses is exceptional, so she has long assisted the prefecture.”
A woman, not of the coroner’s caste, yet serving as one — unheard of.
Huo Weilou’s face betrayed no emotion. He merely said: “Wherever I conduct official business, no women may enter.” With that, he stepped forward, passing by Bo Ruoyou without allowing her to rise, without even a glance. He was Marquis Wuzhao, bowed to by all. To him, Bo Ruoyou was no more than dust on his shoe — not worth brushing off, only to be blown away by the wind into the snow.
If Huo Weilou treated her so, how could others dare acknowledge her? The crowd followed in silence, He Cheng’s eyes full of apology but too fearful to plead for her. They surged in like a tide, then swept out again, leaving Bo Ruoyou kneeling alone in the freezing courtyard. Though of humble status, she had never suffered such disdain. She thought, even if she rose and left now, it would not disturb that lofty Marquis Wuzhao. Yet in the end, she did not dare.
The sky grew dim, the north wind rose, and Bo Ruoyou looked up at the heavens, heavy with snow, her sigh lost in the gale.
Entering the courtyard, Huo Weilou’s gaze darkened. He took in the talismans and gourds, then strode straight to the main hall. The door was half open. At a glance, he saw the eerie scene within. Yet his expression did not change. He entered, stood before the bier, and swept his eyes calmly over the corpse and the paper effigies.
“When the second son, Zheng Wenchen, was pushed from the tower, why was it judged to be the old madam’s ghost?”
Huo Weilou had been in the household for no more than two cups of tea, yet already knew the case in full. Now, seeing the corpse, he struck directly at the heart of the matter.
At that moment, a richly dressed man stepped forward respectfully: “That day was our mother’s *seventh-day*. The household held a ritual that required all children and grandchildren to attend. Everyone came — except Second Brother. Later, servants went to look for him, and said he had gone up to Yaoyue Pavilion, locking the door behind him.”
The speaker was none other than the third son of Marquis Anqing’s household, Zheng Wenyàn. He continued: “When we heard, we felt something was wrong. At that time, we already suspected Second Brother was involved in Mother’s death. So we all went to Yaoyue Pavilion. Just as we reached the base of the tower, we saw Second Brother standing at the railing on the third floor. Behind him, a shadow moved in the darkness. We were puzzled — then saw that shadow push Second Brother down. And the robe that shadow wore was the very one Mother had worn when she died.”
“Mother was devout in Buddhism. That robe was made of crow-blue silk, embroidered with cloud patterns, fashioned after a monk’s garment. There was only one such robe in the world. Since it was what she wore at death, it was burned after she was dressed in funeral clothes. Yet that night, under the bright moon, though high above, we all saw clearly. The figure’s build and posture were exactly like Mother’s. She was old, her back stooped — and so was that shadow.”
Zheng Wenyàn finished with a long sigh, grief flooding his features as if he might weep. “It is said that the form one has at death is the form of one’s ghost. Mother labored all her life, only to be harmed by her own son. Surely that is why her soul could not rest, turning into a malevolent spirit.”
Huo Weilou turned his gaze on him.
Zheng Wenyàn’s appearance was refined, his manners proper as befitted a noble son. Yet under Huo Weilou’s glance, he quickly lowered his head, as if his grief were but a thin veil, pierced at once by that look.
Huo Weilou withdrew his eyes. “So Zheng Wenchen died from the fall?”
Zheng Wenyàn quickly replied: “Exactly. His head was smashed, blood everywhere, dead on the spot. His body is now kept in the west wing. If Marquis wishes to see it, you may at once.”
Huo Weilou did not move, but looked again at the old madam’s corpse. “Prefect He, what do you say?”
He Cheng, the chief official of the case, jolted at the sound and answered at once: “My lord, I believe ghostly murder is far too sensational. Though it was seen with our own eyes, doubts remain. At that time, the old madam was already dead. The second master’s death may have been caused by someone else. As for the old madam’s passing, it may have been due to a sudden hidden illness.”
He Cheng spoke tremblingly. He had gone to the front hall earlier to discuss an autopsy, but just then heard that envoys from the capital had arrived. He was already alarmed, and never imagined it would be not the Marquis Xinyang’s people, but the dreaded Marquis Wuzhao himself!
Later, the formal greetings delayed him further. Fortunately, Marquis Wuzhao soon asked about the case. Yet even now, He Cheng had not had the chance to raise the request for an autopsy.
Huo Weilou frowned. “Hidden illness?”
He Cheng was about to answer when Zheng Wenyàn stepped forward respectfully: “My lord, my mother was always healthy, with no illness. Otherwise, she could not have kept vigil all through New Year’s Eve. Therefore, the prefect’s words are impossible.”
He Cheng looked at him with some disapproval. “Third Master, the old madam was elderly. Though she seemed healthy, her organs could easily have harbored hidden disease. Living in comfort, symptoms might not show, but sudden death could still occur. It is not impossible.”
Zheng Wenyàn fixed his gaze on He Cheng. “This case has been in your hands for half a month. All this time, you said you could not find the cause of death. Now that Marquis is here, you suddenly speak of a hidden illness. I wonder what logic that is?”
His courteous words were like a blade at He Cheng’s throat.
He Cheng hurriedly glanced at Huo Weilou. “Third Master, you are mistaken. These are not my desperate words — they are the coroner’s findings!”
Zheng Wenyàn gave a mocking laugh. “Which coroner?”
He Cheng raised his hand, pointing outside toward Bo Ruoyou. “Miss Bo! It was Miss Bo who said so!”
Zheng Wenyàn’s sneer deepened. Thinking of the rumors about Huo Weilou, he grew even more brazen. “And you believe the words of a mere woman? This courtyard holds my mother’s remains. To bring an outsider here without permission was already disrespectful. And now you present a woman’s nonsense before the Marquis? I wonder what spell she has cast on Prefect He to confuse him so?”
He Cheng was always cautious around nobles and his tongue was clumsy. He could not withstand such barbed words. At last, he blurted: “How is it nonsense? Though Miss Bo is a woman, she has helped this prefecture solve several difficult cases! In all my years in Qingzhou, not a single case has remained unsolved. Nearly every case in the past two years was resolved with her aid!”
He Cheng’s face flushed with anger.
Zheng Wenyàn glanced at Huo Weilou’s impassive expression, then chuckled. “Very well. Then tell us, Prefect — what hidden illness caused my mother’s death?”
Just moments before, He Cheng had spoken with confidence. But this question left him speechless. His face froze. “This… regarding this, I must seek Third Master’s opinion. Miss Bo suspects the old madam died of an undiagnosed illness, but to determine exactly which one, she must examine further. That requires dissection. I wonder if Third Master…”
“What? Dissection?” Zheng Wenyàn’s voice rose sharply. His eyes flicked toward Huo Weilou, then he forced his tone lower, though anger still surged. “My mother’s status was exalted! How could you dare dissect her? And her spirit is not yet at peace. If you provoke her resentment further, creating new calamity, who will bear the blame then?”
Zheng Wenyàn ground his teeth. “Not just that little girl — even if the King of Heaven himself came, he would never touch my mother’s remains!”
He Cheng sighed helplessly. “Third Master, all is for the sake of solving the case. Do you not wish to know how the old madam died? To truly uncover the truth of her passing is the only way to comfort her spirit in heaven.”
Zheng Wenyàn sneered again, ready to rebuke further — but suddenly, Huo Weilou turned. He walked slowly out the door, stopping beneath the corridor, his gaze sweeping toward the courtyard gate.
The cold wind moaned, dark clouds pressed low. Amid the snow and ice, Bo Ruoyou still knelt. Yet her posture was like the bamboo embroidered on her cloak — unbent, unbroken.
Huo Weilou’s narrow eyes glinted. “She will perform the autopsy?”
He Cheng hurried to answer. “Yes, Marquis.”
From behind, Zheng Wenyàn snorted. “Does Marquis also think it impossible? That woman looks so young. I believe Prefect He is bewitched by her beauty, to trust her words! The yamen has many methods of investigation — why must it come to dissection?”
“Let her perform the autopsy.”
The world seemed to fall silent.
Zheng Wenyàn stared at Huo Weilou, unable to believe those four words had come from his mouth.
He Cheng too was stunned, unable to react. Only moments before, Huo Weilou had declared: *Wherever I conduct official business, no women may enter.*
Yet now his words were cold, heavy as iron, beyond dispute: “When I came, I bore the trust of the Marquis Xinyang. If the old madam’s death is truly in doubt, it must be investigated thoroughly. For this, any price may be paid.”
Marquis Xinyang was the old madam’s elder brother.
Zheng Wenyàn opened his mouth, but no words came. Even without Marquis Xinyang’s commission, if Huo Weilou decreed an autopsy, who among them would dare oppose?
Huo Weilou’s word was final. He spoke lightly: “Bring her in.”
Behind him, a crowd of retainers followed. Among them was one who stood out — hair streaked with gray, face pale and beardless, even his eyebrows faint. Compared to the young, stern guards with blades at their sides, he was strikingly unusual.
As soon as Huo Weilou finished speaking, one man stepped forward with a smile. “This old servant will fetch her. Kneeling so long is truly pitiful.”
His voice was slightly sharp — he was a eunuch.
Ordinary men would never dare act without command in front of Huo Weilou. Yet this man did so, and Huo Weilou’s expression remained unchanged. He only turned back toward the hall. “Remove these things, and bring a chair.”
At his word, the blade-bearing guards entered. Soon, the paper effigies were carried out of the room.
Those effigies had been meant to suppress the old madam’s restless spirit!
Zheng Wenyàn and Fifth Master Zheng Wen’an stood outside, eyes filled with fear, not daring to breathe.
The guards’ robes bore silver-thread embroidery of the three-legged, one-eyed golden crow — the emblem of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, who served the Emperor above and investigated officials below. These men did not kneel even to princes. The Zheng brothers, however bold, would never dare obstruct them.
At the courtyard gate, Bo Ruoyou was frozen stiff. She thought helplessly: So this is the famed Marquis Wuzhao. Rumor says he avoids women, though past twenty, he keeps no maidservants. Some say he suffers from a hidden illness; others whisper he favors men.
Bo Ruoyou could not tell if Huo Weilou was ill, nor if he favored men. But she could see clearly that he truly despised women’s involvement in official duty. She rubbed her knees. Just as she thought she would kneel until nightfall, footsteps approached behind her. Then came a voice, slightly odd in tone: “Miss, forgive us. You’ve been left kneeling far too long—”
Bo Ruoyou turned. Before her appeared a kindly face. The man sighed. “Our Marquis understands everything, except how to care for young ladies. Come, rise.”
His smile was gentle, his tone soft with apology. Bo Ruoyou was taken aback. “You are…?”
“I am Fu, an attendant to the Marquis.”
Bo Ruoyou understood, then asked: “Has the Marquis ordered me to leave the household?”
Eunuch Fu chuckled. “Leave? Not at all! The Marquis wants you to examine the body. Quickly, stand.”
This was beyond Bo Ruoyou’s expectations. Still astonished, she felt Eunuch Fu lightly support her, his voice turning serious: “Miss, this is your only chance. If you miss it, you truly will have to leave.”
Following Eunuch Fu into the main hall, Bo Ruoyou saw the room brightly lit, the paper effigies all removed. Huo Weilou sat upright in a broad chair, sword at his side, his gaze deep and inscrutable as it rested upon the old madam’s corpse.
At the sound of footsteps, Huo Weilou’s eyes swept toward her.
Bo Ruoyou happened to look at him as well, and unexpectedly, their eyes met once more. Her heart gave a sudden jolt. She quickly lowered her gaze, adopting a posture of obedience. Yet Huo Weilou raised his brows slightly. Though she was cowed by his presence, her eyes held neither fear nor resentment — a rarity.
He Cheng stood behind Huo Weilou and spoke: “Marquis, Miss Bo is skilled in autopsy. If she is permitted to dissect, the cause of the old madam’s death will surely be revealed.”
Huo Weilou’s face betrayed no joy or anger, yet his words made both Bo Ruoyou and He Cheng blanch: “If she truly can examine, let her stay. If she cannot, I will hear no excuses.”
He Cheng’s vision went dark, nearly collapsing to his knees. He understood well: if the cause of death was not found, it would mean he had failed in his duty — and worse, he had relied on a woman. In the bureaucracy, Huo Weilou was known as the Jade-Faced King of Hell, a ruthless and merciless figure. He Cheng felt his official hat might not be safe.
By contrast, Bo Ruoyou remained composed. Her delicate brows lifted slightly, but her expression quickly returned to calm.
Huo Weilou noticed and pointed toward the corpse. “Go.” After a pause, he added: “All idlers, withdraw.”
The Zheng brothers exchanged glances. Eunuch Fu said, “Wait outside. You won’t be able to bear it.”
Zheng Wenyàn and Zheng Wen’an looked at each other, then bowed to Huo Weilou before retreating.
Bo Ruoyou removed her cloak, rolled up her sleeves, and selected her instruments. As she stood by the bier, Huo Weilou’s phoenix eyes narrowed — for upon her, he saw a focus and solemnity he knew well, almost cold in its intensity.
Outside, the sky was dim. Inside, more oil lamps were lit, illuminating every detail.
The bright light reflected Bo Ruoyou’s refined features. Behind Huo Weilou, Eunuch Fu clicked his tongue softly. “Rare, truly rare. A beauty is always lovelier by lamplight — but beside a corpse, lovelier still.”
His voice was low; Bo Ruoyou, absorbed in her work, did not hear. But He Cheng and Huo Weilou did.
He Cheng, already sweating from tension, glanced sideways — and saw Huo Weilou’s gaze fixed deeply on Bo Ruoyou’s face. He Cheng’s heart jolted. Bo Ruoyou’s beauty was rare even in Qingzhou City. And Huo Weilou, however disciplined, was still a man. Could it be…?
But just as the thought formed, Huo Weilou’s eyes dropped, calm and steady, to the knife in her hand. Clearly, more than her face, he wanted to see how she would cut into the decayed corpse.
He Cheng was dumbfounded. So the rumors were true!
Bo Ruoyou’s first cut was precise, slicing three inches below the ribs.
The old madam had been dead for many days, her body swollen with decay, especially at the chest and abdomen. As the flesh was cut open, a stench that had accumulated in the abdominal cavity spilled out. He Cheng and Eunuch Fu instinctively frowned, but Bo Ruoyou’s expression did not change. Her motions as she cut the flesh were as calm and ordinary as slicing tofu.
The abdomen opened, revealing the rotted, discolored organs. To most, it was an indistinguishable mess. But Bo Ruoyou carefully examined within, her face solemn, her dark eyes sharp as blades, as though no anomaly could escape her gaze. In that moment, she seemed almost sacred, awe-inspiring. Even if ghosts did exist, none would dare approach her.
The hall lamps flickered, then burned bright again. Outside, night had fully fallen, the small courtyard swallowed by snow and darkness, lending a mournful, eerie air. Inside, Bo Ruoyou’s slender, pale fingers were soaked in cold corpse fluid, yet her hand on the knife remained steady. Nearly an hour later, she exhaled and straightened. A thin sheen of sweat covered her brow; she was visibly fatigued.
He Cheng could not wait. “Xiao Bo, what have you found?”
“The old madam did indeed die of a hidden illness.”
With that, Bo Ruoyou fixed the cause of death.
“In the abdominal wall, I found extensive internal bleeding. This was caused by blood vessels in the abdomen knotting, blocking circulation, and then swelling until they ruptured. The condition had existed for two or three years, but at first showed no symptoms, making it hard to detect. Within the last three months, the old madam should have suffered back pain. But for the elderly, aches are common, so the household likely ignored it.”
He Cheng pressed: “So the old madam was not murdered?”
Bo Ruoyou’s brows knit, hesitation flickering in her eyes.
Huo Weilou, silent until now, spoke: “Say it plainly.”
Bo Ruoyou pursed her lips. “Judging from the amount of bleeding and the degree of rupture, the knots were not large enough to burst on their own. Medical texts record that when abdominal blood vessels swell to the size of a cup, they can rupture even while lying down. But the old madam’s were no larger than a walnut. Without an external cause, sudden death should not have occurred.”
Huo Weilou asked evenly: “What circumstances could trigger it?”
Bo Ruoyou thought. “Labor and exhaustion, extreme anger, or physical collision. A shove, a fall, such things could induce it…”
The old madam could not possibly have died from labor or exhaustion. But if it were the other two circumstances, suspicion would be grave indeed.
Huo Weilou looked toward the door. “Bring Zheng Wenyàn in.”
Bo Ruoyou carefully arranged the corpse. Soon Zheng Wenyàn and Zheng Wen’an entered. Before they could glance at the body, Huo Weilou asked: “Repeat in detail the events before and after the old madam’s death.”
Zheng Wenyàn, unaware of the autopsy results, quickly replied: “On New Year’s Eve, Mother insisted on keeping vigil. She was devout in Buddhism, often spending nights in the temple copying sutras. So after a little persuasion, we did not stop her. We thought it was just another ordinary night. But the next morning, we found her dead in the temple.”
“That night, Mother was alone in the temple — she did not allow maids to attend her. Only the next morning, when a maid opened the door, was her death discovered. At the time, she lay neatly dressed before the Buddha shrine, as if asleep. But when we approached, we realized she had long since passed, her body already cold and stiff…”
Bo Ruoyou’s expression suddenly softened with pity. Huo Weilou, sharp-eyed, turned to her at once. “Well?”
Bo Ruoyou spoke gravely: “Marquis, Prefect — this hidden illness strikes swiftly and violently. The victim suffers agonizing abdominal pain, unbearable, lasting about the time of two cups of tea before death. That night, with no one outside the temple, the old madam was tortured to death in silence.”
An elderly woman, dying in agony with no one to know — it was truly heartbreaking.
But Bo Ruoyou was not finished. “Such piercing pain would make anyone struggle and cry out. Yet the next morning, the old madam was found lying neatly dressed, as if asleep. If Third Master’s account is true, then someone else must have been in the temple that night.”
Her voice turned cold. “That person watched the old madam suffer, not only refusing to help, but perhaps even silencing her cries. After she died, they arranged her clothing, posing her as though peacefully asleep.”
Inside the hall, silence was so deep that one could hear a pin drop. Huo Weilou looked at Bo Ruoyou, and for the first time, there was a trace of warmth in his eyes.