By mid-morning, Qi Xun stepped out of the courtyard and ran into Zhou Wei, who was holding two steaming flatbreads. He handed one to her and said, “The heir of Marquis Linjiang left for the capital before dawn!”
Qi Xun ate as she walked. “And Lord Song?”
“At Qi Ran’s quarters.”
Qi Xun turned east, speaking with her mouth full. “The heir had long wanted to return to the capital. Let him go. We won’t cross paths again anyway.”
She didn’t dwell on it. By the time she reached Qi Ran’s room, she had finished the bread. Entering, she saw Song Huaijin speaking to Qi Ran.
“Yang Fei is dead. The killer has confessed. Though the case is twelve years old, you had attendants then. From Yang Fei, Yu Ming, and Xin Yuanxiu, the truth can still be traced. I advise you to confess honestly, or you’ll suffer worse.”
Qi Ran’s face was wrapped in cotton cloth, ghastly to behold. His wounds pained him, sweat pouring. Fear gnawed at him—overnight, Yang Fei had died, the killer was caught, and the old crime was exposed. He didn’t know if he would survive, but he knew his career was ruined. Hatred filled him. He shut his eyes tight and refused to speak.
Song Huaijin, once respectful of this Ministry of Works official, now saw clearly. He sneered coldly. “So you’re determined to stay silent. No matter. In the capital, there are ways to make you talk.”
He turned to a Court officer named Feng Lang. “From now on, you personally guard him.”
Feng Lang obeyed. Song Huaijin left the room and met Qi Xun outside. “For the next two days, you need only prepare the autopsy reports. Once back in the capital, they’ll be presented in court.”
Qi Xun glanced toward Qi Ran’s chamber. “And him?”
Song Huaijin snorted. “Half-dead now. Leave him. Once back in the capital, he’ll be thrown into our dungeon for a few days. Then, by imperial order, he’ll be transferred to the Heavenly Prison. He’ll suffer plenty. He’ll talk then.”
Qi Xun, a year in the Court of Judicial Review, knew the process. “So we return in two days?”
Song Huaijin nodded. “Yes. We’ll conclude the case in the capital—just in time for the New Year.”
They had been at the station for seven days. The case was solved quickly, though Xu Li had been cunning. Xin Yuanxiu and others were killed under their noses, leaving them frustrated. But now Xu Li’s crimes were clear, the evidence gathered, the confessions recorded. They could return to the capital to finalize judgment.
Over the next two days, Song Huaijin and his men collected all remaining evidence. On the eve of departure, Wu Shuang’s remains were buried in the Wu family graveyard. Xu Li, shackled, offered incense and bowed. After a night’s rest, he joined the Court’s convoy back to the capital.
Besides Qi Ran, Wu Han, Liu Xie, Yu Ming’s servants, and Post Master Liu Yishan were also taken to testify. The return procession was vast. Because of Qi Ran’s injuries, they traveled slowly. On the first day, they followed the southern official road, crossed Yanxing Mountain, and at dusk lodged at a farmhouse at its foot.
The next morning, snow began to fall, slowing their progress even more. Fortunately, at the foot of Mount Yu, northwest of the capital, there was another official post station. Though small and mostly used for changing horses, they crowded inside—it was still better than sleeping in the carriages.
But it was truly cramped. Learning that even the floor space was tight, Zhou Wei muttered during supper, “This place is barely half a day’s journey from the capital. I heard Mount Yu once had an imperial palace. By rights, this area shouldn’t be so desolate. Why is there not even an inn nearby?”
The station’s narrow hall had only two tables. Song Huaijin, Wu Han, and the chief officers sat at one, while the rest of the runners squeezed around the other. Zhou Wei’s words silenced the chatter. Xie Nanke looked at him. “You don’t know the story of Mount Yu?”
Zhou Wei was not from the capital. His wealthy family had purchased him a post in the Court of Judicial Review. Like Qi Xun, he had only served a year and knew nothing of Mount Yu’s legends.
Xie Nanke turned to Qi Xun. “Do you know?”
Qi Xun was busy eating and looked up curiously. “I don’t. What’s the story? Tell us.”
Xie Nanke said, “Years ago, this place was bustling. Mount Yu held an imperial palace. Commoners couldn’t go up, but the mountain’s foot had many scenic spots. In spring and summer, crowds flocked here. Until fifteen years ago—during the Yaohua Rebellion.”
Zhou Wei perked up at the mention of a royal tale. “What was the Yaohua Rebellion?”
“The palace on Mount Yu was called Yaohua Palace. The rebellion began there. Fifteen years ago, in the eighteenth year of Jianyuan, during the Lantern Festival, the late emperor brought his consorts, princes, and officials of fourth rank and above to Yaohua Palace for the celebration. That night, at the palace banquet, the second prince died mysteriously—”
Everyone gasped. How could a noble imperial prince die?
“At that time, the Second Prince was the legitimate son of Empress Sun, destined to be the crown prince. His death enraged the late emperor. High-ranking officials were present, so the emperor immediately sealed Mount Yu and ordered the Three Judicial Offices to investigate. The inquiry unleashed a storm of bloodshed in the capital.”
“The Second Prince’s death was tied to the Fourth Prince, son of Consort Lu. Behind him stood his maternal grandfather, General Lu of An’guo; his uncle, Marquis Ning of Changsu; and his tutor, Marquis Wei of Yongxin. These three families conspired to kill the Second Prince and support the Fourth Prince as heir.”
“In our dynasty, nothing is more forbidden than fratricide among the imperial bloodline. The late emperor was furious. He recalled Marquis Linjiang, Fu Yun, from the northern frontier. The Fourth Prince and Consort Lu were ordered to die. General Lu’s clan was executed to the ninth degree. The Wei and Ning families were executed to the third degree. To call it a bloodbath in the capital is no exaggeration.”
This was fifteen years ago. Most present had been children then, and remembered little. Only Wang Su, older, recalled: “I remember the purge. Many officials were replaced. Families fled to avoid implication. For half a year, the capital lived in terror.”
“Cough, cough—” Song Huaijin suddenly coughed, then turned to them. “Eat your meal. Don’t gossip idly. These matters aren’t for you to chatter about.” He smiled at Wu Han and the others. “Forgive the ignorance of the juniors.”
Xie Nanke and Wang Su had spoken too loudly, drawing attention. Wu Han waved it off. “No matter. Fifteen years have passed. It’s no longer taboo. His Majesty is wise, open to speech. Just last year, he granted amnesty. Old stories can be told.”
Liu Xie added gravely, “Perhaps. But back in the capital, be cautious. The Second Prince was the emperor’s own brother. Others may forget, but the Empress Dowager and Duke Zhong’s household have not. They still pursue the old case. Be careful.”
Song Huaijin agreed quickly, glaring at Xie Nanke and the others until they fell silent. Only after the chief officers left did Zhou Wei whisper to Xie Nanke: “Wasn’t the case settled? Why do the Empress Dowager and Duke Zhong still pursue it?”
Xie Nanke lowered his voice. “It was sudden then. The emperor struck hard. But the Lu, Wei, and Ning families had deep roots. They wouldn’t submit willingly. Their elders were executed, but the younger members escaped. The Guard Bureau hunted them, but only caught some of Ning’s kin. Lu and Wei’s descendants are still at large. Fifteen years later, they’re grown—men in their twenties.”
Zhou Wei muttered, “No wonder.” Turning, he saw Qi Xun listening intently. “Did you hear? This case was bigger than any we’ve seen. I wonder if we’ll ever witness such a grand case in our lifetime.”
Qi Xun shot him a look. “Let’s hope not. Or we might lose our heads.” She finished her meal and left. Outside, the cold bit hard. She pulled her cloak tight and hurried to her quarters.
Zhou Wei followed. “Lose our heads? But the Three Judicial Offices handled that case! To judge imperial blood, nobles, generals—that’s glorious!”
Qi Xun opened her door. “Imperial cases can never be fully uncovered. If you learn what you shouldn’t, you’ll lose your head.” She shut the door, ending the conversation. “We leave at dawn. Go sleep.”
Zhou Wei muttered, rubbing his nose where the door nearly hit him, and left.
Qi Xun removed her cloak, warmed her hands, washed with the little hot water, then curled into bed. Outside, the winter wind howled. Nearing the capital, she suddenly worried about her pet grass turtle—had it frozen? Then she remembered: turtles live a thousand years. Even if she died, it would live. Breathing deeply, she drifted into sleep.
The next morning, they set out on the official road toward the capital. By dusk, they neared the southern gate. From afar, the towering city walls awed them. At the gate, Song Huaijin showed his Court of Judicial Review badge. The guards checked briefly and let them pass.
Through the dark gate tunnel, they entered the bustling capital. Qi Xun rode in the middle of the convoy, passing the side streets of the imperial avenue, heading toward the Court of Judicial Review south of the palace walls. By the time they arrived, night had fallen. The suspects were sent to the dungeon. Wu Han and Liu Xie went their own ways. Song Huaijin arranged the witnesses’ lodgings.
By late evening, Song Huaijin granted Qi Xun three days’ leave. She thanked him happily, mounted her horse, and rode west through the lantern-lit streets to her modest home in Anning Ward.
Her house had two courtyards, neither rich nor poor, left to her by her late master, coroner Cheng You’an. Orphaned, from a disgraced clan, she had been diligent and filial. Cheng You’an had cherished her and, before his death, gave her the house as shelter.
She entered, tied her horse, and stepped into the small, bare courtyard. Inside, the rooms were icy from days without heating. Lighting a lamp, she went straight to her bedroom to check her grass turtle. She had raised it for five years, carrying it from Luozhou to the capital. After Cheng You’an’s burial, it was her closest companion.
The turtle lay still in its porcelain basin. She poked it. Its head retracted. Relieved, she changed clothes, lit the kitchen fire, and boiled water, moving briskly.
After sipping hot tea, she sighed out the cold. Though her work was hard, she never neglected herself. She cooked noodles, ate slowly, then bathed in a full bucket of hot water. Warmed inside and out, she felt alive again.
She spoke a few words to the turtle. It ignored her. She chuckled, climbed into bed, and fell into dreams.
Living alone, she had little to do. Though Song Huaijin valued her, she dared not slack off. After resting two days, on the third morning she returned to the Court. With the year’s end approaching, everyone was busy. She learned that Qi Ran had confessed in the dungeon and felt a measure of relief. She busied herself with small errands at the office.
Once the truth was uncovered, a coroner’s work was no longer needed.
Qi Xun reported daily, but no new cases arrived before the New Year. On the twenty-ninth day of the twelfth month, the Furong Station case was formally concluded.
In the back hall, Song Huaijin told the investigators: “This case was neither swift nor slow. Fortunately, the killer was caught, and the twelve-year-old crime was uncovered. Sentences are set. Xu Li will be executed after the New Year. Qi Ran was exiled beyond the northern frontier yesterday. In this weather, he likely won’t survive the journey.”
Qi Ran’s wounds were still fresh, but Emperor Jianzhang was furious. The Three Judicial Offices gave him no time to heal. He was sent north into the bitter cold.
Qi Xun breathed easier. The case was settled, and all could enjoy the New Year. She returned home, cleaned her house, bought red paper to paste “Fu” characters, and on New Year’s Eve purchased sweets, wine, and meat—celebrating peacefully.
After the holiday, she paid respects to her late master Cheng You’an’s old friends. On the fifth day, she returned to the Court.
At the gate, Zhou Wei greeted her, radiant in a new robe. His family had joined him in the capital for the festival. He looked especially bright.“Qi Xun, have you heard?”
She blinked. “Heard what?”
“The great victory in Youzhou! Xiliang was crushed!” Zhou Wei said excitedly. “When the heir of Marquis Linjiang returned to the capital, the war was already decided. He was wounded, so he came back early.”
“On the third night of the New Year, the victory report arrived, along with Xiliang’s request for peace. His Majesty was overjoyed. That very night, the Ministry of Rites discussed granting the heir his father’s title. Several carts of rewards were sent. The street before Marquis Linjiang’s mansion was blocked with people bringing gifts!”
Qi Xun frowned. “How do you know?”
“I went to watch the excitement!” Zhou Wei grinned.
Qi Xun sighed. “So… will we make peace?”
She cared little for the Marquis’s honors, but rejoiced that Da Zhou’s victory spared the people from war. Zhou Wei shrugged. “Not sure. The court must debate. Lord Song will know.”
Qi Xun shook her head and went with him to the office. The Court was quiet. Song Huaijin was absent. Qi Xun helped clerks organize last year’s case records. Familiar with her diligence, they welcomed her even into the archives.
Days passed. The news of Youzhou’s victory spread, though peace terms remained undecided. On the tenth day, Song Huaijin returned and assigned officers to new cases outside the capital. None required Qi Xun.
Restless, she idled for two days. On the thirteenth, near noon, she arrived late. At the gate, Zhou Wei was waiting. “Finally! Any later and you’d be guilty of neglect!”
Qi Xun was puzzled. “What? A case?”
Zhou Wei’s eyes shone. “Yes! And not just any case—a major one. The Ministry of Justice and the Court of Judicial Review will investigate together. You’re the coroner. The chief officer of the Ministry has named you for the autopsy!”
Qi Xun felt something odd. Before she could ask, Zhou Wei leaned in. “Guess who the new chief officer is?”
She thought. “Minister You?”
She had met Minister You before. But Zhou Wei shook his head. “No, no. Minister You was reassigned. The Ministry has a new official—”
As they entered the main hall, Qi Xun’s eyes fell on a figure in a white fox-fur cloak. More striking was the wheelchair he sat in.
She froze, incredulous.
Zhou Wei revealed the answer: “Surprised? It’s the heir of Marquis Linjiang! He now serves as the Minister of Justice. This case—he will oversee it!”
Qi Xun’s lips tightened. Yes—she had not expected that.