In the hall sat Fu Jue, along with Wei Qian, Minister of the Court of Judicial Review, and Qin Wenzhou, Prefect of the Capital. Wei Qian, in his sixties, frail and often ill, rarely appeared at the office despite holding the chief post. Usually, Song Huaijin handled cases and reported to him. Qin Wenzhou, as head of the metropolitan prefecture, seldom came to the Court of Judicial Review unless the case was grave.
Qi Xun wondered—did their presence mean the case was truly serious, or was it because Fu Jue was here?
“My lord, Qi Xun has arrived.”
As she stepped forward, Zhou Wei’s loud voice drew every gaze.
Qi Xun’s face grew solemn. From within, Lin Wei remarked, “The coroner kept us waiting.”
Feeling guilty, Qi Xun hurried in and bowed. “Greetings, my lords. Greetings, Your Excellency. I am late—please punish me.”
Wei Qian, hair white at the temples, looked at Fu Jue and Qin Wenzhou. “You usually arrive early. Why is it late today? You’ve kept the heir and Lord Qin waiting.”
Qi Xun felt bitter—she hadn’t expected a sudden summons. She bowed again to Fu Jue and Qin Wenzhou. “Please forgive me.”
Qin Wenzhou glanced at Fu Jue.
Fu Jue’s gaze lingered on Qi Xun, warm and steady. “It’s no matter. Coroner Qi’s skill is exceptional. I saw it at Furong Station. Today’s case will need her full effort.”
Half a month had passed since she last saw him. His voice was strong, his wounds healed. Hearing praise in his words, Qi Xun looked up. His brows were clear, his illness nearly gone. The white fox cloak framed his handsome features, giving him an air like jade and pine.
Their eyes met. Fu Jue seemed to read her thoughts. She quickly lowered her gaze. “I dare not claim such. I will do my utmost.”
Qin Wenzhou, familiar with her, smiled. “Little Qi, you earned great merit with Huaijin outside the capital. At Furong Station, several died, and you uncovered two old skeletons. You judged them clearly. Even the heir knows your skill—he chose you for this autopsy.”
Qi Xun repeated humbly, “I dare not.”
Qin Wenzhou’s smile faded. He turned to Fu Jue. “Shall we tell Song Huaijin and Coroner Qi about the case?”
Fu Jue nodded. Qi Xun stepped to Song Huaijin’s side.
Qin Wenzhou spoke gravely. “The case is at Bailu Academy in the southern city. Four are dead, each by different means. And—the killer has committed suicide.”
Qi Xun was startled. If the killer was dead, why investigate?
Song Huaijin asked, “The killer killed himself?”
Qin Wenzhou nodded. “Four days ago, the academy head found a student dead—his heart pierced by a broken brush. Another was strangled with zither strings. The case was reported to the prefecture. Two days later, a third student was smothered with wet pages. Yesterday, a fourth died—poisoned. In his room, we found an unfinished play manuscript.”
Fu Jue continued. “Bailu Academy admits many poor scholars from afar. They struggle in the capital, some selling calligraphy, others writing plays for theaters. The last victim, Chang Qing, often wrote scripts for major theaters.”
Qi Xun didn’t see the link between plays and murder, but listened closely. Fu Jue said, “His unfinished play was titled *The Tale of the Qilin*. It tells of three scholars who come to the capital for exams, but are coerced by corrupt officials and murdered. The three scholars die exactly as the three students at Bailu Academy did.”
The deaths mirrored the play?
Qi Xun glanced at Song Huaijin. He met her eyes, both troubled.
Fu Jue coughed lightly. Qi Xun looked at him again. He continued: “The play was unfinished, treasured by Chang Qing. No one else at the academy had seen it. Yet after the third death, he poisoned himself.”
“So—the play was unseen by others, yet the three deaths matched its story. Therefore, is he the killer?” Qi Xun pieced it together. “If so, he is indeed the prime suspect.”
Fu Jue nodded.
Qin Wenzhou added: “The strangeness of this case lies here—Chang Qing had no reason to kill the other three. He quarreled with two of them, yes, but the third was his fellow townsman, who entered Bailu Academy a year earlier and often looked after him. Others said their relationship was excellent. Without sufficient motive, he may not be the killer.”
The key was the play manuscript. If another person had seen it, they could frame him. Song Huaijin said: “If we can prove the playwright did not commit suicide, then suspicion grows even stronger.”
Fu Jue murmured assent, then looked at Qi Xun. “The prefecture’s coroner examined him once already and judged it a poison suicide. But that makes no sense. Because of the gravity of this case, the Court of Judicial Review must assist.”
Qin Wenzhou continued: “Bailu Academy is the foremost school in the realm. Many top scholars have come from it. Now, the court plans to open a women’s school. Princess Ningyang intended to establish it at Bailu Academy this year. But with murders here, the plan is delayed. Moreover, the first victim was the son of Liu Yuan, Assistant Minister of Personnel. Afterward, Liu Yuan petitioned both the prefecture and the Ministry of Justice. Now His Majesty and Princess Ningyang are aware.”
Song Huaijin’s face tightened—another case under Emperor Jianzhang’s eye.
Fu Jue said calmly: “The Ministry of Justice leads, the Court of Judicial Review assists. Do not worry. Any errors will be theirs to explain to His Majesty.”
Song Huaijin bowed. “We’ll follow your command.”
Fu Jue nodded. “Then let us go to Bailu Academy.”
Bailu Academy lay by Mochou Lake in the southern city, half an hour’s ride. Qi Xun fetched her coroner’s kit, pondering how such a grave case arose there.
Founded at the dawn of the dynasty, Bailu Academy had grown from a private scholar’s school to a national institution, its students spread across the empire. Now jointly overseen by the prefecture and the Ministry of Rites, it was second only to the Imperial Academy in prestige.
Qi Xun jogged with her kit. Outside, officials’ carriages and horses were ready. She found her assigned horse, mounted swiftly, lean but agile—Lin Wei clicked his tongue in admiration.
She rode with Song Huaijin and Xie Nanke at the rear of the convoy.
On horseback, Qi Xun whispered to Song Huaijin: “My lord, why has the heir gone to the Ministry of Justice?”
Song Huaijin replied softly: “His leg wound may never heal. And with the victory in Youzhou, Xiliang seeks peace. Negotiations may take time. But I think he chose the Ministry himself.”
Their low voices carried. Inside the carriage, Fu Jue and Lin Wei heard clearly. Lin Wei said: “Coroner Qi is well regarded by Lord Song.”
Fu Jue answered gently: “To be valued by one’s superior is a good thing.”
Lin Wei pressed: “Does my lord truly believe she can find something new?”
The prefecture’s coroner had already examined the body, finding nothing. If Qi Xun also failed, this joint investigation would be pointless.
Fu Jue rubbed an old scar on his knuckle. “Shall we wager?”
Lin Wei shook his head quickly. “No, no… I believe in her skill. She will find clues. I have no doubt!”
Fu Jue smiled faintly.
Lin Wei muttered: “I’ve never won a bet against you. I won’t be tricked again.” Then he glanced outside. “Why not choose the Ministry of War instead of Justice? Investigating cases is tedious, nothing like the battles in Youzhou.”
Fu Jue looked out too. Beyond the curtain, laughter drifted from the riders. He said softly: “Forget Youzhou. The capital is where we must live and stand.”
Lin Wei nodded obediently.
Bailu Academy sprawled wide, covering all land east of Mochou Lake. Qi Xun’s party followed the stone-paved street to the lakeside. Passing a great Lingbi stone inscribed “Bailu Academy,” they reached the main gate.
By now, the sun was slanting west. The gate was shut, and two prefecture officers were waiting at the side entrance. Seeing the convoy, they hurried forward. “My lords, the headmaster and students await in the Mingli Hall.”
Qin Wenzhou dismounted. Fu Jue was lifted down in his wheelchair. The Court officers dismounted too. Together they entered through the side gate. Mingli Hall was the academy’s guest hall. Before they reached it, a white-haired elder approached with dozens of students behind him—and among them, a young woman in a bright red gown.
The white-haired elder looked dignified and venerable, but before he could speak, the young woman in red stepped forward: “Lord Qin, why investigate further? Wasn’t it said yesterday that Chang Qing truly poisoned himself?”
She was fair-skinned and striking, her brows and eyes brilliant, her words proud and commanding. As she spoke, her gaze fell on Qi Xun among the crowd. Surprised, she asked: “Who is she?”
Qin Wenzhou smiled. “Your Highness, this is the Court of Judicial Review’s coroner. The case is full of doubts. The heir has decided the Court must assist. It cannot be dismissed so easily.”
The woman turned to Fu Jue. Her voice softened. “Brother Fu Jue, what arrangement is this?”
Fu Jue’s tone was cool. “Sun Ling, this is a murder case. You cannot meddle.”
Sun? So she was of the Sun family and a princess. Qi Xun quickly realized: this was Princess Changle of Duke Zhong’s household, beloved of the Empress Dowager and the emperor.
Fu Jue’s face was gentle as jade, but when his voice turned cold, even Qin Wenzhou grew uneasy.
Sun Ling’s expression shifted. She pouted. “The Princess ordered me here. Fine, fine—investigate then…” She glanced again at Qi Xun, surprised to see a woman among the officers.
Qin Wenzhou turned to the academy head, Qi Zongyi. “We must re-examine the bodies. Lead the way.”
Qi Zongyi was startled, and the students behind him whispered. A female coroner? They doubted her.
Qi Zongyi led them to the chamber where the bodies lay.
Sun Ling walked behind Fu Jue, but kept turning to look at Qi Xun. Soon she came to her side. “What is your name?”
“I am Qi Xun.”
“How long have you examined corpses?”
“Seven years.”
Sun Ling’s eyes widened. Qi Xun expected disdain from such a noble lady, but instead she studied her and asked: “Are you better than the prefecture’s coroner I saw yesterday?”
Qi Xun smiled. “No worse.”
Sun Ling clicked her tongue. “Then I want to see if you’re truly skilled. If you are, I’ll speak for you before the Princess!”
Qi Xun didn’t know how to respond. Sun Ling lowered her voice, glancing at the students. “They surely think you’re inferior to yesterday’s coroner. You must prove them wrong!”
Qi Xun laughed softly. “I will.”
Sun Ling hadn’t expected her to answer without modesty. Her eyes shone with anticipation.
They passed two winding corridors and reached a secluded courtyard. Qi Zongyi gestured. “Please—”
Four corpses lay in the central hall. Qin Wenzhou personally brought Qi Xun inside. The attendants lifted the white cloths. He pointed. “This is Liu Xi, dead the first night. This is Yang Jun, the second. This is Zeng Wenhe, the third. And that is Chang Qing.”
Chang Qing lay on the rightmost bier. Qi Xun set down her kit, donned gloves and a mask, and stepped forward. Sun Ling and the students stayed outside, covering their noses as she pried open the dead man’s lips, examined his hair roots, eyes, and nose. They recoiled, disgusted.
But soon Qi Xun spoke without lifting her head: “Chang Qing did not kill himself.”