Old Zhang was found hanged in his bedroom. A hemp rope looped over the beam, tied fast. He hung stiffly, a chair overturned beneath his feet.
Song Huaijin paced the room, restless. “When we entered, the door was closed but not latched. No signs of struggle inside. Did he know we were coming and kill himself?”
Liu Yishan was incredulous. “Could the killer be Old Zhang? Impossible! He was aged, though used to labor. He always seemed honest—how could he be a murderer?”
Qi Xun had Zhou Wei lay the body down and began examining it. “Rigor mortis has just begun. Joints stiff, but muscles still soft. Lividity pale. Time of death within two hours—around dawn.”
Song Huaijin’s eyelids twitched. “Dawn—that was when we found General Xin’s body.”
At that time, everyone was in the boiler room. None knew Old Zhang had died in his quarters.
Qi Xun’s voice was heavy. “The ligature mark is deep, bleeding beneath, running from the throat to behind the ears. Tongue pressed between teeth, face purplish, small hemorrhages in the eyelids—”
Her eyes darkened. “This was not suicide. He was strangled.”
The verdict shocked everyone. Liu Yishan stammered: “Strangled—by the killer? Most of us were in the east wing. Why kill Old Zhang, a mere laborer?”
Qi Xun continued: “The mark is deep, neck cartilage fractured. His hands show little struggle. He died quickly. The killer struck hard, fast, and precisely. Old Zhang had no chance. But—”
She noted his robe was loosely thrown on, his hair disheveled, and his bedding disturbed. “At dawn, before light, he had not risen. The killer came, he threw on clothes to open the door. He knew the visitor well. Once inside, the killer strangled him.”
Song Huaijin sneered. “Old Zhang collected medicine dregs. Both victims bore them. Perhaps he saw something—or was an accomplice. The killer silenced him. This act clears the eastern officials. The killer is someone inside the station!”
He turned coldly to Liu Yishan. “Who was close to Old Zhang? And where did he dump refuse?”
Liu Yishan’s vision swam. “He was friendly with many. He tended horses, guarded granaries, and was always helpful. He dumped refuse outside the north wall.”
Song Huaijin led men there at once. Qi Xun found no further clues on the body, left a guard, and stepped out. Outside his quarters lay a narrow alley by the granaries. At its end were bamboo baskets, lids, and poles—his daily tools. Qi Xun narrowed her eyes and examined them. Most baskets were dusty, used for refuse. She found feathers and scraps inside. But one basket was unusually clean, as if washed. Her heart leapt. *Blood washes away with water.*
She checked further—another basket was lighter in color. Both were large enough for her to crouch inside. She realized how the killer moved the corpse.
Qi Xun hurried to the north wall, where Song Huaijin pointed at a pile of refuse. “Here—plenty of medicine dregs. Lord Yu may have been killed nearby.”
Qi Xun surveyed. The place lay beyond the east gate, with a path leading from the rear to the west gate. “Lord Yu was attacked here. But dismemberment was not done here.”
She pointed to the granaries and stables. “I saw a worker chopping fodder with a guillotine‑like blade. Longer than the strange blade. And Old Zhang’s baskets—large enough to carry a body. With lids, no one would check. The killer, or Old Zhang, could have carried the corpse east.”
“Baskets held medicine dregs. The corpse picked them up. As it softened, blood dripped, freezing on the floor. Whether Old Zhang helped or the killer alone, we need only find who carried baskets into the east wing that afternoon.”
Her words struck like steel. Song Huaijin’s eyes lit. “Good! I’ll search the east wing. You find which guillotine blade was used.”
Liu Yishan left Zhang Xun to assist. Qi Xun returned to the granaries. Several workers stood together, whispering about Old Zhang. Seeing her, they straightened nervously.
Qi Xun recognized the man she had seen chopping fodder. She stepped forward. “How many guillotine blades are here? Who uses them?”
“There are three. We workers use them. Whoever chops fodder, uses whichever blade.”
The man questioned was about thirty, dark‑skinned, his hands thick with calluses. He looked bewildered at the inquiry.
Zhang Xun, standing behind Qi Xun, explained: “Xu Li, this is the coroner from the Court of Judicial Review. These men are court officers investigating the case. You must answer truthfully.”
Xu Li! Qi Xun recalled Zhang Xun’s earlier words—this was the man who lost a toe after stealing wine. She instinctively glanced at his feet, then moved behind the group to inspect the guillotine blade in use. Its body gleamed, edge sharp. It was new, with no chips or cracks. The stand was free of rust, and fodder was piled nearby.
“Take me to see the other two.”
There were three guillotines in three granaries. Xu Li led her. One was old, rusted, left in a corner, covered in dust. The other was near the stables.
This one was old, with several cracks and three chipped edges. Likely used yesterday, the stand was still littered with fodder. Qi Xun crouched to examine. At first, nothing unusual. Then she noticed something odd at the base.
The station’s guillotines were larger than usual, with a fixed slot in the base, sturdier, and able to cut large bundles. Qi Xun checked the gap between the slot and the base. “Has this blade ever been repaired?”
Xu Li shook his head. “Never.”
Qi Xun’s eyes shifted to Zhou Wei’s waist. She drew his sword, pried at the slot. Zhou Wei and Zhang Xun exchanged looks, unsure of her intent. With a bang, the slot came loose.
She tossed the sword back, lifted the slot. The gap beneath was clean, polished. Her face hardened. “Xu Li, who used this guillotine on the day of the Laba Festival?”
Xu Li thought. “Li Yang. He used it.”
Qi Xun looked at Zhang Xun, who hurried out. Soon, Li Yang was brought in. Qi Xun asked: “On the Laba Festival, when did you use this guillotine?”
Li Yang was puzzled. “It was my turn to chop fodder. I used it all day. My brothers can testify.”
Xu Li nodded.
Qi Xun frowned. Zhou Wei asked: “What’s wrong? Is there something with the blade?”
Qi Xun pointed at the clean gap. “This is an old blade. It should not be so clean. Someone used it, removed the slot, and cleaned beneath.”
Zhou Wei suddenly recalled—Yu Ming’s body bore no marks from a slot. The killer must have removed it before dismembering. But Li Yang had used the blade all day in front of witnesses. He could not have done it under their eyes.
“What happened to Old Zhang?” Li Yang asked, unable to hold back.
Qi Xun looked up. Their faces were anxious. She knew she could not hide it. “Old Zhang was murdered. He is dead. Where were you last night? When did you arrive this morning? Did anyone visit Old Zhang?”
The news shocked them. Xu Li gasped. “We were asleep last night. This morning, Li Yang came first. I arrived less than half an hour ago. The others are about the same. Work was heavy—we did not go to Old Zhang. Who killed him? He never quarreled with anyone!”
“The Court is still investigating.” Qi Xun pressed. “Did you notice anything strange about him these past days? Did he mention anyone suspicious? Did anyone help him with work in the east wing?”
Li Yang and Xu Li exchanged blank looks.
Li Yang shook his head. “No. We do different work and rise later. He seemed normal. He said nothing.”
Xu Li added: “But yesterday he spoke at length with Old Huang, who delivers wine and food.”
Qi Xun frowned. “Who is this?”
“From Lotus Village. He delivers wine and food every three days. He and Old Zhang are old friends. Each time he comes, they talk. If Old Zhang had secrets, he would tell him.”
Xu Li’s words stirred Qi Xun. She ordered the guillotine brought to Song Huaijin. If Song Huaijin found who carried baskets into the east wing on the Laba Festival—and it was not Old Zhang—the killer would be revealed.
She hurried to find Song Huaijin, only to see Liu Yishan questioning a clerk. “You are certain it was morning, not afternoon?” Liu Yishan asked.
The clerk said: “Doesn’t Old Zhang always come in the morning? Around the first quarter of dawn, when it was still dark, I stepped out to relieve myself and saw a figure carrying a bamboo basket slip past. It must have been him. He never came during the day.”
Song Huaijin looked disappointed. Qi Xun began to doubt her theory. If Old Zhang came in the morning, and Li Yang used the guillotine all day, then it could not match Yu Ming’s death—Yu Ming was still alive at noon!
She felt deceived somehow, unable to unravel the killer’s trick. She told Song Huaijin about Old Huang. At once, Song Huaijin ordered men to summon him from Lotus Village.
He sighed. “Nothing was found near the boiler room. Old Zhang died suddenly. As for twelve years ago, station clerks change quickly. The previous postmaster is said to have died of illness. Finding witnesses from then will be difficult. And Yang Yun saw General Xin go to the heir’s courtyard—this cannot be explained. At dawn, when Xin was found dead, the heir arrived quickly like the rest. Old Zhang’s death has nothing to do with him.”
“Old Zhang’s death is unrelated to the heir. The medicine dregs in Lord Yu’s blood have been explained. The strange blade was not the murder weapon. So the heir is less implicated. But I still cannot fathom the killer’s method. As for General Xin—”
Qi Xun reported her autopsy findings. “From the marks, he could not have been attacked in the north. It must have been near the boiler room. And now we know Old Zhang’s killer was not from the eastern quarters. That fire becomes suspicious—”
She continued: “The killer burned the records to prevent us from discovering Yu Ming lodged here twelve years ago, and from tracing it back to him. But when we found the records, our first suspicion was General Xin, who concealed it.”
Song Huaijin’s mind sparked. “You mean—the arsonist was not the killer?”
“The one most harmed is the one who destroys the records!” Qi Xun reasoned quickly. “General Xin wanted to hide his link to Lord Yu. On the record, their names were separated by half a page. That page must have held another guest’s name. It is illegible now. I must check further.”
Song Huaijin realized the importance of the records. Together, they returned to the archive room.
Two clerks had been sifting. One stepped forward. “My lord, before Lord Yu and General Xin’s entries, we found another name—Xue Mingli, a scholar. He lodged within a day of them. But the surrounding pages are too faded. Before that, only records five days earlier.”
The name Xue Mingli was unfamiliar. Song Huaijin pondered. “I have never heard of him. At least he is not a high official now. Summon Lord Yang and the others. If they know his fate, good. If not, we must search him out.”
Soon Qi Ran, Yang Fei, and the others arrived. Hearing another death had occurred, their faces grew grim. Tian Wanchun came only to bid farewell.
When General Xin died, Tian Wanchun had already risen, preparing to depart with his servants. Witnesses confirmed his presence. Now, with another death, he was more eager to leave. Song Huaijin, knowing he was uninvolved, allowed it.
Once Tian Wanchun departed, Song Huaijin asked the remaining four: “Do you know of an official named Xue Mingli? He was a scholar in the 21st year of Jianyuan, and lodged here then.”
All looked blank. Wu Han shook his head. “I have served across the empire for years. I never heard of him.”
None recognized the name. Song Huaijin was puzzled. “He passed the exam. He should have been posted. Did he never serve? Or did he fall into disgrace?”
He wondered if perhaps Xue Mingli had joined the military. He sent Xie Nanke to ask Fu Jue. Soon, Xie Nanke returned—Fu Jue did not know him either.
Song Huaijin suspected the man had long ceased to serve. With no trace, he set the name aside. Two hours later, Old Huang, the wine‑seller, was brought.
His name was Huang Mingyuan. Hearing that Old Zhang had been murdered, he grew sorrowful and afraid. “Yesterday he told me a great official had died here, and many officers were hunting the killer. I warned him to be careful—he was old, might pass any day. I never thought he too would be killed…”
Song Huaijin asked: “Did he tell you anything about the case? How long have you delivered wine here?”
“Of course. He said the official might have been cursed by Guanyin. Officials may have harmed people. The officers did not believe it, and kept searching. He said there was a great fire, and the station was in chaos. I have been delivering wine here for six or seven years. Other families in the village deliver too.”
Song Huaijin pressed: “You have delivered only six or seven years. But as a man of Lotus Village, do you know of any incident twelve years ago?”
Huang Mingyuan pulled his coat tight, thought long, then shook his head.
“No. Twelve years ago, the station was as large as it is now. Busy at times, but no great trouble.”
Qi Xun’s eyes lit. “Do you know who delivered wine ten years ago?”
The station’s clerks changed often, but village families did not. Huang Mingyuan thought. “Back then, only a few families. Old Li’s family—moved to Tanzhou now. And Old Wu’s family. But the Wu family is gone—”
His expression changed. “Yes. Twelve years ago. The Wu family’s siblings both met misfortune…”