Qin Wenzhou asked excitedly: “Not suicide?”
Qi Xun nodded. “The deceased’s face is ashen-gray, with petechiae on the skin, bulging eyes, cracked lips, small ulcers on the tongue, swollen ears, and a slightly distended abdomen. These are signs of poisoning—specifically *yu stone* poisoning.”
“Yu stone’s toxicity is similar to arsenic, though less intense. Daoists often use it in alchemy. In small doses, it can dispel cold and dampness. But in excess, it is poison. Among common households, it is most often seen in rat poison. I suspect your investigation found that Chang Qing died from ingesting rat poison.”
Qin Wenzhou’s eyes lit up. “Exactly! Rat poison! The jar was at his bedside, half-used. Everyone assumed suicide. Yesterday, the prefecture’s coroner said the same.”
Qi Xun lifted Chang Qing’s right sleeve, showing them. “My lords, look. His sleeve, his chest, and his collar bear dark stains. The stains are yellowish, not greasy, with faint scents of ginger and cardamom. This is a common remedy for vomiting and diarrhea.”
“Yu stone poisoning is not as swift as arsenic. Victims suffer hours of diarrhea, vomiting, and severe cramps. It is a long, painful death. If suicide, choosing this poison is unwise. And he would not take the remedy I mentioned.”
“Therefore, I deduce someone poisoned him. He later vomited and had diarrhea, but dismissed it as food poisoning. He then took the common household remedy of ginger and cardamom soup.”
Qin Wenzhou frowned. “Perhaps he regretted it after taking poison?”
Qi Xun smiled. “If he regretted it, why take ginger-cardamom soup? He knew he had swallowed rat poison.” She added, “If you doubt me, I can perform a dissection.”
Qin Wenzhou looked to Fu Jue.
Fu Jue nodded. “Do it.”
Qi Xun nodded briskly, selecting her scalpel.
Outside, Qi Zongyi and the students gaped. “Truly dissect? But the body is a gift from one’s parents…”
Qin Wenzhou replied: “Headmaster Qi, do not be pedantic. With so many doubts, finding the truth quickly is the best way to honor the dead.”
Qi Zongyi hesitated, then sighed. Behind him, a dozen students—some only twelve or thirteen, the eldest seventeen or eighteen—looked horrified. To them, the female coroner seemed like a ghost. Only Sun Ling’s eyes shone bright, as if she had found a treasure.
Qi Xun quickly chose her scalpel. She loosened the deceased’s collar, pulled away the belt with a sharp tug, and exposed the chest and abdomen. Outside, gasps sounded.
Sun Ling instinctively turned her gaze aside, but remembering Qi Xun was a woman, she forced herself to look—until she saw Qi Xun reach for the waistband of the corpse’s trousers.
Qi Xun hesitated, realizing it was improper. She looked to Qin Wenzhou.
“My lord, for dissection, it is best that idle onlookers withdraw.”
Qin Wenzhou agreed, ordering Qi Zongyi and the students outside. They were scholars, unused to such sights, and obeyed. Only Sun Ling refused. She declared: “The *Book of Rites* says, ‘Knowledge comes from investigating things; only then can wisdom be attained.’ They spend their days reading, yet are less than I, a woman. I will not leave. I am neither disgusted nor afraid.”
Qin Wenzhou sighed helplessly. Qi Xun found the princess amusing, but said nothing more. She stripped Chang Qing’s garments. At that, Sun Ling’s face flushed red and pale, and she turned away.
The corpse lay bare in the cold, its ashen hue more ghastly. According to Qin Wenzhou, death had occurred about a day and a half earlier. Qi Xun’s examination confirmed it. To prove whether ginger soup had been consumed, she needed only to check the stomach contents.
Qi Xun cut beneath the sternum, down to the stomach. Because death was recent, blood seeped quickly. Soon, the hall reeked of iron.
Qi Xun’s eyes above her mask were focused and severe, unlike her usual lively demeanor. Fu Jue’s gaze traced her hands, then lingered on her long lashes.
The dissection was slow, time passing as cold wind swept through. Men shifted and stamped their feet, but Qi Xun held her posture. Her sleeves were rolled to the forearm, her exposed skin pale-blue from the chill, veins faintly visible beneath.
“Zhou Wei, fetch a basin—” Qi Xun’s voice broke the silence. Her bloodied hands lifted a mass from the corpse’s abdomen.
Zhou Wei hurried out and returned with a washbasin. Qi Xun placed the mass inside, examined it carefully, and then looked up. “The stomach contains ginger residue, just as I suspected—he drank ginger soup. There are also fragments of mung bean skin. Judging by digestion, he ate it the night before last—likely mung bean porridge or cake. The poison was probably ingested then.”
“His body shows no external injuries or bruises. He was not force-fed. He unknowingly consumed the poison mixed into food or sweets. This should be investigated among the academy.”
She paused, then added: “His esophagus and throat are badly damaged—he vomited repeatedly that night. Hence, little residue remains in the stomach. The intestines contain rice-like matter, consistent with yu stone poisoning. If the privy at his quarters is searched, more evidence will be found. The ginger soup was likely brewed by himself at midnight.”
Her words proved that Chang Qing was poisoned. Yet Qin Wenzhou asked: “If Chang Qing was murdered, could he have killed the other three?”
Qi Xun looked at the other corpses. “That requires further examination.”
She tidied Chang Qing’s body, keeping the stomach remnants. Zhou Wei brought water for her to wash the blood from her hands.
Fu Jue and Qin Wenzhou had left the Court at noon, arriving at Bailu Academy by late afternoon. The sun was already low. To examine all four bodies thoroughly would take longer than the day allowed. Qin Wenzhou looked to Fu Jue, awaiting his decision.
Fu Jue pondered briefly. “Since it was not suicide, the other three deaths are also suspicious. For now, seal the academy. Have Li Lian summon everyone who entered or left in the past seven days. Except for officials and the Court of Justice, no one else may move.”
He turned to Song Huaijin. “Today, Lord Song, please lead the questioning.”
Li Lian, captain of the prefecture guards, was present and obeyed at once, taking men to carry out the order.
Song Huaijin nodded. “We must also investigate the victims’ backgrounds.”
Qin Wenzhou said: “This was asked yesterday. The first victim, Liu Xi, was stabbed with a brush. Seventeen years old, son of Liu Yuan, Assistant Minister of Personnel. He studied here for three years, failed last year’s exams, and planned to try again.”
“The second victim, Yang Jun, also seventeen, son of the Yang family cloth merchant in Yongning Ward. He studied here for two years and had not yet taken exams. Both were well-off. They quarreled with Chang Qing, the fourth victim. Liu Xi and Yang Jun discovered that Chang Qing’s plays were sold profitably in theaters. They reported him to the headmaster, saying scholars writing plays lowered the academy’s reputation.”
“Headmaster Qi knew Chang Qing was poor, so he turned a blind eye. He warned him to focus on studies once he earned enough, but did not punish him. Still, Chang Qing bore a grudge. This was half a year ago. The headmaster did not know that Chang Qing continued writing plays.”
“The third victim, Zeng Wenhe, eighteen, was Chang Qing’s fellow townsman. He entered the academy two years earlier, slightly better off, selling calligraphy. He often cared for Chang Qing. This is why the case seemed strange. More details must be investigated.”
Song Huaijin nodded. “Understood. I’ll begin questioning.”
He took Xie Nanke and Wang Su with him. Once gone, only Qi Xun and Zhou Wei remained from the Court. They exchanged a glance.
Fu Jue told Qin Wenzhou: “Lord Qin, if the prefecture has other duties, you need not remain.”
As Prefect, Qin Wenzhou had many responsibilities. He thought, then said:
“Then I’ll leave Li Lian here under your command. Tomorrow I must enter the palace to report. I cannot delay.”
Fu Jue nodded. Qin Wenzhou departed with his men.
Fu Jue turned to Qi Xun. “Coroner Qi, can you continue the examinations?”
Qi Xun answered quickly. “Of course. I will examine the other three.”
Fu Jue nodded, his gaze following her. It was her first time working directly under him, so she was cautious, moving with extra precision. Zhou Wei, less experienced, was nervous but followed closely.
They approached the first corpse on the left. Zhou Wei whispered: “So… we’re helping the Ministry of Justice now?”
Qi Xun said, “It’s not the first time.”
Zhou Wei lowered his voice. “Don’t forget—we once suspected the heir himself. Now we work under his eyes. How can I not be afraid?”
Qi Xun sighed. “The heir’s status is exalted. He won’t hold grudges.”
Zhou Wei was reluctant, but when he turned, he saw Fu Jue watching. Somehow, Fu Jue always seemed difficult to approach. Zhou Wei quickly straightened, standing stiffly.
Sun Ling had been watching Qi Xun and Zhou Wei. She said: “I didn’t expect Miss Qi to be so skilled. No wonder she serves at the Court of Judicial Review. If the Princess knew her, she would surely favor her.”
Fu Jue did not reply. Sun Ling pressed: “Brother Fu Jue, do you know her background? What family is she from? A woman as coroner—I’ve never seen it. This work is lowly, often done by slaves or convicts. Only the poorest families would let their daughters do it. How could her parents allow it?”
Fu Jue finally said: “Coroner Qi serves at the Court of Judicial Review, highly valued by Lord Song. You need not worry.”
Sun Ling pouted. “Brother Fu Jue, you haven’t visited our household since returning. My brother is away on duty; otherwise, he would have invited you today.”
Fu Jue glanced at the sky. “It grows late. If you must report to the Princess, go. This case may take days. Let her be informed.”
Sun Ling was displeased, reluctant to leave, but seeing the hour, sighed. “Fine, fine. I’ll go. Tomorrow I’ll return. I want to know how this case unfolds.”
She called out: “Miss Qi, I’m leaving. We’ll meet again tomorrow.”
Qi Xun, examining the first corpse, straightened. “Yes, Your Highness. Safe journey.”
Sun Ling departed. Qi Xun watched her vanish, then bent again to her work. Zhou Wei, talkative as ever, whispered: “That was Princess Changle of Duke Zhong’s household, wasn’t it?”
“Likely.”
“Strange. Rumor says she is spoiled, beloved by the Empress Dowager and Emperor, and arrogant enough to defy even His Majesty. Yet she didn’t seem so fearsome.”
Qi Xun shook her head. “Rumors are unreliable. Now—fetch the vinegar from the kit.”
Zhou Wei ran quickly and returned with vinegar. Qi Xun spread it over the first corpse, preparing for further examination. Then she heard a wheelchair approach.
Fu Jue asked: “Coroner Qi, what have you found?”
Qi Xun’s heart tightened. “The first victim died about five days ago, and was discovered four days ago. Rigor mortis had passed. From the livor stains, he died seated at a desk, then collapsed forward. Stains are on the buttocks and thighs, with upper marks on the right neck and inner forearm—consistent with lying forward after death.”
Fu Jue nodded. “He died in his dormitory. The night before, someone saw him slumped at his desk, thinking he was tired. In the morning, he was still there. When they entered, they found him dead.”
Qi Xun frowned. “He lived alone?”
Fu Jue explained: “Because of the New Year, many local students went home. His dorm had three others, but they were absent. He was alone.”
Qi Xun recalled. “But he was the son of an Assistant Minister. Why return so early?”
Fu Jue smiled faintly. “He failed the exams. His father had high hopes. He was diligent, returning on the fifth day to study alone.”
It was now the thirteenth. Liu Xi had returned on the fifth, murdered on the eighth. Qi Xun examined the bruises. “He was attacked from behind, likely by someone he knew. Few students were present. Anyone at the academy on the eighth is a suspect.”
She pointed to his face and hands. “Bruises around the mouth and nose show he was smothered from behind, then stabbed in the heart. The wound’s angle—”
She gestured, then frowned. Fu Jue said: “The stab struck the left side of the heart. If with the right hand, the angle would slant. Unless the killer smothered with the right hand and stabbed with the left.”
Qi Xun’s eyes lit. “So the killer was left-handed! The wound entered near the sternum into the heart.” She looked around. “Where is the weapon?”
Fu Jue signaled Lin Wei, who brought a tray: a broken brush, a zither string, and crumpled pages—the murder weapons.
At Bailu Academy, brush, string, and paper were symbols of learning. Now they were tools of death. Qi Xun felt a chill.
“These are the three murder weapons.” She examined the broken brush. It was a soft-bristle bamboo pen, snapped a third of the way down, forming a sharp point. The break was jagged, accidental.
Fu Jue said: “The break was not deliberate. Whether impulsive or planned is unclear—no signs of struggle. The broken tip remained. It was Liu Xi’s own brush.”
Qi Xun studied it. Bamboo was weak compared to knives, yet it was used to kill. She thought it was impulsive. But then—what of the second and third deaths?
She examined the zither string and pages. Fu Jue explained: “The zither string was from Yang Jun’s own instrument. He died in the music hall, strangled while playing. The third, Zeng Wenhe, was smothered with pages torn from his favorite poetry book, found beside him.”
Qi Xun shivered. Dormitory, music hall, library—places of study and culture, now crime scenes. The killer showed no reverence for the academy. If the first was impulsive, what of the others?
She returned the tray, then examined the other corpses. Their wounds matched Fu Jue’s account. She noted the clues. “It grows late. I wish to see the crime scenes.”
Fu Jue agreed. Lin Wei pushed his wheelchair. Seeing Qi Xun and Zhou Wei hesitate, he asked: “Why do you stand still? Come.”
Zhou Wei, nervous, said: “No need to trouble my lord. A guard could guide us.”
Lin Wei scoffed. “What are you thinking? Our lord is chief investigator. He must see the scenes. Don’t flatter yourself that he guides you.”
Zhou Wei flushed red, embarrassed. “I only feared he would tire…”
Lin Wei laughed. “This is no hardship. Youzhou was harder. Our lord is used to leading himself.”
Zhou Wei quickly agreed.
Qi Xun sympathized, relieved she hadn’t spoken. Fu Jue truly was formidable—no wonder he defeated Xiliang.
Fu Jue said, “The killer struck the victim’s left cardiac vessel. If he stabbed with his right hand, the angle would have been slightly slanted—unless he covered the victim’s mouth and nose with his right hand and stabbed with his left.”
Qi Xun’s eyes lit up slightly. She was weighing the plausibility of this deduction, but Fu Jue had already seen through her thoughts. Hearing him state it so clearly only strengthened her conviction. She asked, “My lord, you are skilled in martial arts and weaponry. Is there truly a difference in angle between left-handed and right-handed strikes?”
Fu Jue nodded. “Naturally.”
Qi Xun’s mind settled. “Then the killer is very likely left-handed! The wound pierced the cardiac vessel from near the thoracic spine.” She swept her gaze around. “Where is the murder weapon?”
Fu Jue looked to Lin Wei.
Lin Wei stepped into a corner of the room and carried over a wooden tray. Upon it lay three items: a broken brush, a snapped zither string, and a stack of crumpled pages—the very weapons used to kill the previous three victims.
The Bailu Academy was a place revered by scholars across the land. Brushes, strings, and pages were symbols of refinement and learning. Yet now, the killer had twisted them into instruments of death. Qi Xun felt a chill of strangeness.
“Coroner Qi, these are the three murder weapons.”
Qi Xun took the tray. First, she examined the broken brush that had killed Liu Xi. It was a soft-bristled brush for medium script, snapped at one-third of its length. The break formed a sharp point. The killer had gripped the brush head and stabbed into the victim’s chest from behind.
Running her fingers over the jagged break, Qi Xun saw it was uneven—likely broken by accident. She hesitated.
Fu Jue added, “The break wasn’t deliberate. Whether the killer acted on impulse or with premeditation is hard to say. But there were no signs of struggle at the scene. Even the broken brush tip was still there. Others confirmed this brush was issued by the academy—every student had one. The inkstones and brushes of the others were locked in their cabinets. This one belonged to Liu Xi.”
Qi Xun stroked the hollow bamboo shaft. Compared to a dagger, it was far too fragile. Yet the killer had used it to pierce a heart. Looking at the scabbed wound on the corpse’s chest, she felt it must have been an impulsive act. But if so, the killer would have had to break the brush first.
She turned to the zither string and the crumpled pages.
Fu Jue explained, “The string came from the yaoqin of the second victim. He didn’t die in his own quarters, but in the academy’s qin hall. To the north, there is a hall dedicated to practice. Yang Jun often went there alone to play. When he was found, he was slumped over his yaoqin, already lifeless.”
“Four days ago, on the ninth, Liu Xi’s body was discovered in the morning. Yang Jun was still alive then. By evening, he was dead in the qin hall. A guard making rounds saw the light still burning inside, went to check, and found Yang Jun strangled.”
“The third victim, Zeng Wenhe, was found dead in the academy’s library on the morning of the eleventh. The paper used to suffocate him was torn from his favorite collection, *The Jade Verses*. When he was discovered, that very book lay beside him.”
Qi Xun listened as Fu Jue spoke with his clear, pleasant voice. Yet the image of the crime scene chilled her heart. A bedchamber, a qin hall, a library—each a place of study for the academy’s scholars. The killer chose these locations not out of reverence, but for convenience. Qi Xun could feel no respect for Bailu Academy in his actions.
And if the first killing was impulsive, what of the second and third?
She returned the tray to Lin Wei, then walked to the bodies of the second and third victims. She examined them briefly. From the scars and bruises, their manner of death matched Fu Jue’s account. Quietly, she noted the clues, then said, “It grows late. I wish to see the scenes of their deaths—”
“Of course,” Fu Jue replied gently, raising his hand.
Lin Wei immediately stepped forward, pushing Fu Jue’s wheelchair toward the door. After a few steps, he noticed Qi Xun and Zhou Wei had not followed. He turned back, puzzled. “Coroner Qi, why are you standing there? Why not come along?”
Qi Xun and Zhou Wei quickly moved forward. Once outside the hall, they saw Lin Wei still pushing Fu Jue onward.
Qi Xun’s brows furrowed tighter, and Zhou Wei was surprised as well—Fu Jue intended to accompany them.
Zhou Wei kept signaling to Qi Xun with his eyes. She tilted her chin at him, meaning: *If you have something to say, say it yourself.*
Taking a deep breath, Zhou Wei spoke respectfully, “I dare not trouble the heir. Perhaps you could send an officer to guide us instead.”
Lin Wei gave a sharp laugh. “Brother Zhou, what are you thinking? Our master is the chief investigator of this case. Naturally, he must inspect the crime scenes himself. Did you imagine he was merely leading the way for you?”
His tone carried astonishment, and Zhou Wei’s face flushed crimson. His skin was thinner than Qi Xun’s, leaving him awkward and unable to respond. “I only feared the heir might be overtaxed…”
Lin Wei smiled. “This is no hardship. Compared to Youzhou, this is nothing. Our master is accustomed to handling matters personally.”
Zhou Wei quickly echoed his praise. Qi Xun, watching from the side, felt both sympathy for Zhou Wei and a pang of relief. Fu Jue truly was the man who had defeated Xiliang. Thank heaven it wasn’t she who had spoken out of turn.