“Greetings, my lord.” Qi Xun bowed properly.
Fu Jue was lifted down by his attendants. He asked gently, “Why haven’t you gone home? Did you come here to investigate the case?”
Qi Xun nodded. “I wanted to take a look. But since you are here, then I—” Then she could withdraw.
That was her thought, but before she finished speaking, Fu Jue said: “Then it’s just as I intended. Let’s go in together.”
Lin Wei and Chu Qian pushed Fu Jue toward the entrance. Qi Xun hesitated, but in the end, did not dare to slip away. As she followed, she heard Fu Jue say: “Coroner Qi, even after finishing your duties, you still think of the case. No wonder Lord Song values you.”
Qi Xun quickly replied: “I dare not claim such credit. The others at the Court of Judicial Review are also deeply committed to the case.”
Fu Jue turned his gaze on her. “It is not an official duty now. You need not be so restrained.”
Qi Xun answered, but inwardly felt uneasy. This heir was strikingly handsome, his tone gentle, sometimes even smiling—seemingly not a harsh or frightening man. Yet Qi Xun could not forget his sharp, terrifying demeanor, nor the reputation he earned on the battlefield of Youzhou as the “God of Slaughter” who made Xiliang tremble. He was both approachable and unapproachable, unpredictable—no one knew when they might touch his reverse scale. Qi Xun was no different.
Once inside the theater, dazzling colors filled her sight. Lin Wei led the manager forward to greet them. Bowing low, the manager guided them into a private room.
Though Fu Jue sat in a wheelchair, his noble bearing and commanding presence drew many glances. On the northern stage, actors were already singing in costume. Once they entered the private room, Lin Wei asked:
“What play is being performed outside?”
“Replying to my lord, the play being performed now is *Wind Enters the Pines*.”
Lin Wei frowned and looked at Fu Jue. But Fu Jue was in no hurry; instead, he turned to Qi Xun. “You must be hungry. What would you like to eat?”
Qi Xun blinked. “Aren’t we here to—”
Fu Jue’s lips curved. “The case must be investigated, but meals must also be eaten. At this hour, it’s time for supper. If you’re not hungry, I am.” He looked to the manager. “Bring your signature dishes and tea snacks, and also bring your play manuscripts.”
The manager, hearing mention of an investigation, immediately grew tense. He bowed and hurried out. Soon, exquisite dishes were served, and the manager respectfully presented the play manuscripts, thinking Fu Jue wished to select a performance.
Fu Jue gestured for Qi Xun to sit beside him. She hesitated briefly, then removed her cloak and sat down. Fu Jue pointed to the manuscripts. “You no longer perform *Golden Lock Record*?”
The manager quickly replied: “We sang it for a whole year last year. Guests grew tired of it, so at the start of this year we changed the repertoire. Tonight it’s too late, but if you wish to hear it, you may return in two days.”
Fu Jue asked again: “Where is your proprietor?”
“In the back courtyard. Do you wish—”
“Summon him. The Ministry of Justice is investigating.”
The manager’s face shifted several times before he bowed and left. Fu Jue closed the manuscripts and signaled Lin Wei and the others to sit. Then he said to Qi Xun: “Eat first. We’ll ask about the case afterward.”
Lin Wei and Chu Qian sat down without ceremony. Seeing Qi Xun’s unease, Lin Wei said: “Coroner Qi, don’t be so restrained. In Youzhou, our lord often dined together with his soldiers. This is nothing unusual.”
Qi Xun did not act shy; she crisply agreed and began eating. Lin Wei and Chu Qian, being rough men, finished quickly, while Qi Xun ate slowly and carefully. When she lifted her gaze, she saw Fu Jue holding a cup of tea. Embarrassed, she quickly bent her head to her food, but in her haste, she suddenly choked and coughed.
Fu Jue laughed softly at the sight, then personally poured her tea, saying:
“You eat with such focus. No need to rush—take it slowly.”
Qi Xun took the tea and drank, her face composed though the tips of her ears flushed red. She glanced at Fu Jue, only to see no impatience in him—his ink‑dark eyes carried a smile, warm and tolerant. She lowered her gaze again, thinking that Fu Jue was rather different from what she had imagined.
By the time she finished eating, the manager had already brought the proprietor waiting outside. Fu Jue summoned him in and, pointing to the play manuscripts, asked: “Which plays in your theater were written by Chang Qing of Bailu Academy?”
The proprietor immediately understood why they had come, and recognizing Lin Wei, quickly replied: “*Golden Lock Record*, *The Jade Case*, and *Step by Step Grace*. *Golden Lock Record* was widely praised, but the latter two did not compare. Last year, in the twelfth month, Chang Qing said he had written a new script to sell to us. But before that could happen, he met with misfortune.”
Servants cleared away the dishes, leaving only tea and snacks. Fu Jue sipped his tea and asked again: “How did he describe it to you? Did you tell anyone afterward?”
“He said it was an extraordinarily legendary story, with both civil and martial scenes, even involving ghosts crying out for justice. When I heard it, I thought it was very different from other plays, and I was eager for it.”
“After he told me, I told no one. His earlier plays had been bought by other troupes, so this time I didn’t want word to spread.”
“Do you recognize the son of the Assistant Minister of Personnel?”
The proprietor exchanged a glance with the manager. The manager whispered: “The Liu family… the Liu family’s son.”
The proprietor’s eyes lit up. “Yes, I know him. Last year, during the New Year, he often came to our theater. He listened to *Golden Lock Record*, and he especially liked another play, *Return of the Southern Swallow*. He even asked to see the script.”
“*Return of the Southern Swallow*? Is that play still performed today?”
“Not today. Our repertoire follows a fixed schedule—each month we decide in advance which plays are performed on which days. The next performance of *Return of the Southern Swallow* will be on the evening of the Lantern Festival, two days from now.”
Fu Jue pondered for a moment. “When he came to your theater, did he only watch plays? Did he have other interests?”
The proprietor was momentarily confused, not understanding his meaning. Lin Wei interjected: “Was he familiar with any of your troupe’s actors?”
The proprietor then understood. He first shook his head, then said: “I didn’t see him favor anyone in particular. But at that time, he came several days in a row to watch *Return of the Southern Swallow*. Later, not only did he ask for the script, but he also went backstage to meet the actors of that play. As for what was said, I do not know.”
“And where are those people now?”
“They’re still here at the theater, though each has their own troupe now—altogether about ten of them. Listen, the actress in the blue robe from that play is the one singing outside right now.”
Through the window, the soft, drawn‑out notes from the stage drifted in. Seeing them listen intently, the proprietor opened the window. With the window ajar, the stage was fully visible, the music clearer. The lyrics were sung in southern style; Qi Xun and Fu Jue could only grasp the general meaning.
Knowing it would be inconvenient to gather all those actors at once, Fu Jue instructed Lin Wei: “You and the others follow the proprietor to find those people. Ask them what business Liu Xi had with them.”
Lin Wei acknowledged the order and left with the proprietor. Once the door closed, only Qi Xun and Fu Jue remained inside.
Qi Xun couldn’t help but say: “Liu Xi liked *Return of the Southern Swallow* and even asked for the script. If he truly had an affair with an actor, it must have been someone from that play.”
She paused briefly, then added: “But when I looked at his room, he seemed a diligent student, clearly intent on becoming a top scholar. Yet right before the exam, he suddenly became obsessed with theater. That seems rather strange.”
Fu Jue replied: “His family placed great expectations on him. If he couldn’t bear the pressure and sought distraction, it wouldn’t be impossible. He was still young and lacked discipline. A few visits could easily lead to indulgence.”
Qi Xun asked doubtfully: “Can watching plays really become addictive?”
After speaking, she listened carefully to the lyrics drifting in from outside. Fu Jue also grew quiet, listening. The actress’s voice was delicate and charming, clear and pleasant, fitting the title *Wind Enters the Pines*. The words were ornate and elegant, now reaching the part where the man and woman’s passion grew intense.
Qi Xun recalled the play manuscripts she had read earlier that day. The stories were mostly tender and lingering, and with the actors’ vivid performances, they could indeed be addictive. She tried to imagine Liu Xi’s thoughts, listening with even greater focus.
At that moment, the male voice sang: “Fragrant rain and drifting clouds reach only the edge of dreams…”
Qi Xun frowned, wondering—what kind of dream was this?
This script was more refined and subtle than the one she had read in the afternoon, yet without a clear storyline. Qi Xun couldn’t grasp its meaning. Beside her, Fu Jue also furrowed his brow slightly. Then suddenly the singing quickened, making it harder to understand—until a male voice spoke in recitative: “He waits upon Yang Peak for clouds to rise and rain to fall, yet how could dew within Wu Gorge turn to frost…”
Qi Xun heard clearly, but she didn’t know where “Yang Peak” or “Wu Gorge” were in Great Zhou. She only caught words of clouds, rain, frost, and dew. Her delicate brows furrowed tighter—no wonder Liu Xi wanted the play manuscripts. Without them, how could one understand such lyrics?
She was troubled when she noticed Fu Jue watching her. She looked back and saw his expression was also strange. Guessing that he too hadn’t understood, she quickly said to flatter him: “Truly, the words are captivating, and the singing is fine. The young lord and lady in this play are most content.”
Most content? Fu Jue’s face stiffened. “You understood?”
Qi Xun lifted her lips and cleverly replied: “They are traveling through mountains and rivers—on the peaks they admire clouds and meet with rain, in the gorges they see autumn dew turn to frost. Truly a heavenly couple, a match made by fate. Is that the meaning?”
Fu Jue’s heart, which had leapt to his throat, suddenly settled. He nearly choked on his own breath, inwardly sighing: “Exactly so. I didn’t expect you to be quite the expert.”
Qi Xun’s smile grew brighter. “My lord flatters me. These play scripts are nothing more than tales of romance and moonlight, of men and women’s affections.”
She turned back to watch the performance on stage. Though she could only catch a word here and there, she enjoyed it with delight. Fu Jue, his emotions mixed, shifted his gaze from her face. After a moment, he couldn’t help but curve his lips. Soon, the smile widened until he let out a soft laugh.
Just then, the play on stage reached a joyful moment, and the hall erupted in laughter. Qi Xun’s brows and eyes also blossomed into a smile. She glanced again at Fu Jue, thinking he was amused by the play. It made him seem all the more approachable.
When the play ended, Lin Wei returned with several men to report. “My lord, we asked around. Last year, Liu Xi went backstage twice. Not for pleasure—he wanted to know when *Return of the Southern Swallow* was written, and how long it had been performed at the theater. He even sought out the original playwright.”
“But *Return of the Southern Swallow* is an old play, written decades ago by a southerner, not someone in the capital. At Qingchun Theater, it has been performed for seven or eight years. Liu Xi asked very specifically whether it had been staged six years ago. The newer actors didn’t know, so he questioned the veterans one by one. Only when an old actress who had been here for over ten years confirmed that six years ago it was indeed being performed did he seem satisfied.”
Lin Wei grew more puzzled as he spoke. “After that, he never came again.”
Qi Xun was astonished, glancing at Fu Jue. He was already looking at her, their thoughts nearly identical. Fu Jue said, “He wasn’t seeking an affair. He was searching for the playwright.”
Qi Xun added, “But he despised playwriting. Why would he want to find the author?”
Fu Jue immediately ordered Lin Wei, “Fetch the manager. Bring me the script of *Return of the Southern Swallow*.”
Lin Wei left. Qi Xun and Fu Jue fell into thought. Liu Xi prided himself on being lofty, even looking down on his classmate Chang Qing for writing plays. Why then pursue this author? Could *Return of the Southern Swallow* be different, hiding truths found only in the classics?
After a short while, Lin Wei returned with the manager, who carried an old script. “My lord, this is *Return of the Southern Swallow*. It’s an old play. Its songs are ones every apprentice learns. Nothing unusual.”
Fu Jue opened it. The script had thirty‑two acts, telling of a pair of star‑crossed lovers. Compared to *Wind in the Pines*, its language was far less refined. Why had Liu Xi cared so much?
Unable to see anything, Fu Jue handed it to Qi Xun. She read briefly and agreed. “I see nothing strange either.” She asked the manager, “Seven years ago, when you performed this play, did anything happen?”
The manager thought hard, then shook his head. “No. Nothing caused by the play. And other troupes performed it too—it wasn’t unique to us.”
Qi Xun looked at Fu Jue. “If not the text, perhaps the performance itself was peculiar?”
“To judge that, we must watch it,” Fu Jue said quickly. “On the Lantern Festival, we’ll listen to both *The Golden Lock Record* and *Return of the Southern Swallow*, and compare.”
Qi Xun agreed at once, then murmured to herself, “What was Liu Xi seeking? Wasn’t he aiming to be top scholar? How could this play relate to the exams?”
Fu Jue replied, “He visited more than just Qingchun Theater. Tomorrow, check the others. Perhaps more clues will surface.”
It was late. Though the theater was still lively, Fu Jue and Qi Xun were not there for amusement. Qi Xun asked, “May I take this script home to study?”
Fu Jue had the same thought. “Of course.”
Qi Xun was pleased. Fu Jue then asked, “You’ll go home alone?”
Qi Xun nodded. “My house is in Anning Ward, west of the city. Not far.”
It wasn’t far, but Fu Jue said, “You’re a young woman. I’ll escort you.”
Qi Xun quickly protested. “I wouldn’t dare trouble you, my lord. I always go home alone. I’m used to it. Nothing will happen.”
Fu Jue refused. “I’ve heard the capital’s law enforcement is poor. If anything happened to you, I couldn’t answer to Lord Song. Come—let me take you.”
Lin Wei and Chu Qian pushed Fu Jue’s carriage out. Qi Xun didn’t know how to refuse. By the time they reached the doorway, Fu Jue was already seated in the carriage. Qi Xun took the reins from a servant, mounted her horse, and tried once more to dissuade him. “My lord…”
Fu Jue lifted the curtain slightly. “Lead the way.”
The glow of lanterns at the gate reflected in his eyes, softening his sharp features with a touch of warmth. Qi Xun knew she couldn’t argue further, so she urged her horse forward. After a few paces, she turned back. She hadn’t expected him to treat his subordinates with such care. Looking at Lin Wei and Chu Qian, recalling their shared meals and Lin Wei’s words, she began to understand.
Though Fu Jue was strict in command, the army thrived on discipline. Having led for years and won repeated victories, he must have earned his soldiers’ loyalty. In the army, comradeship was prized—he treated his men not as mere subordinates, but as brothers‑in‑arms.
Marquis Linjiang… the heir of Linjiang… Qi Xun sighed inwardly, though outwardly she still looked flustered at his favor. When they reached her street, she pointed to a small courtyard ahead. “My lord, no need to go further. That is my home. Thank you.”
Fu Jue followed her gesture, then said simply, “Rest well,” and ordered Lin Wei to drive back to the Marquis’s residence.
The carriage turned and rumbled away. Qi Xun spurred her horse and soon reached home. After washing up, she took out the script of *Return of the Southern Swallow*. Unlike *The Golden Lock Record*, it told another tale of love between man and woman. She had never read such plays before, and tonight found herself absorbed, reading until the second watch before resting.
Meanwhile, in his carriage, Fu Jue recalled Qi Xun’s earlier remark about “immortal lovers” and couldn’t help but smile. She had examined corpses for years; her knowledge was vast, yet she clearly had no romantic notions—so she hadn’t considered that angle.
*Clouds meet rain, autumn dew turns to frost…* His smile lingered, but then he remembered Qi Xun would be reading *Return of the Southern Swallow* tonight. A sudden worry struck him: if that play also contained vulgar passages, would it corrupt her?
For a moment, he considered going back to take the script away. But such an act would be strange, surely arousing her suspicion. Besides, Qi Xun was pure in nature—perhaps even if she read it, she wouldn’t understand.
With that thought, he felt reassured and let the matter rest.