“The Wu parents died early. Their son and daughter depended on each other. The younger brother worked in the capital, returning once every month or two. The sister farmed at home, selling surplus vegetables to the station for silver. But one day, villagers noticed she hadn’t come to collect produce for days. They went to the house—only to find it locked, and both siblings gone.”
“At the time, people said they had seen the brother return. We thought perhaps he had prospered in the capital and taken his sister there. But half a month later, a corpse was found in the western pond. It was early summer, May or June, and the body was badly decayed. Yet everyone recognized it as the Wu brother—he still carried the family keys. We tried them, and they opened the Wu house.”
“The brother’s death was mysterious, and the sister vanished. With no parents, distant relatives were summoned. The authorities were notified, but found nothing. Heavy rains had fallen—drowning by accident seemed possible. He was buried in the village. As for the sister, her fate has remained unknown all these years.” Huang Mingyuan sighed. “Twelve years have passed in a blink.”
Qi Xun and Song Huaijin exchanged glances. Neither had expected such a story from the village.
Song Huaijin asked: “Where was the Wu home? Where was the brother buried?”
“At the east end of Lotus Village, beneath the great locust tree. The house has long been abandoned. The brother was buried in the northwest graveyard. Villagers still tend the mound.”
Because a high official had died at the station, all attention had been on the station itself—checking only who entered or left that day. No one had considered the nearby village. Yu Ming’s death might be tied to it.
Song Huaijin had Huang Mingyuan rest, then conferred with Qi Xun and others. “The siblings’ disappearance is strange. We must visit the village, see if other incidents occurred twelve years ago, and inquire about them.”
Qi Xun said: “If no autopsy was done then, we should examine the brother’s remains. If his death was not accidental, the station murders may be linked to this old case.”
Song Huaijin agreed. He gathered men and set out for Lotus Village.
Huang Mingyuan led the way, and Liu Yishan brought the officers. From the west gate, they followed the field path for two cups of tea’s time, reaching the village. It was late, the sky dim, northern wind rising, snow threatening.
Song Huaijin sent Xie Nanke and Wang Su to question villagers. He himself went to the Wu house. Beneath the locust tree, they found the old dwelling, overgrown with weeds.
Huang Mingyuan said: “The house has stood empty for years. No one would buy it. The siblings’ fate made it unlucky.”
Song Huaijin circled the house. No signs of life. Qi Xun gazed from afar.
“Old Huang, where is the pond? I saw a frozen canal earlier. Is there a river nearby?”
Huang Mingyuan nodded. “Yes. The pond irrigates the fields. The canal draws from the Little White River to the west.”
Qi Xun said: “The village lies by the river. Children here must know how to swim. The pond is small. How could the Wu brother drown?”
Huang Mingyuan said: “He could swim. But the pond was full of weeds and mud. People said he was entangled and drowned.”
Qi Xun frowned. “Did the authorities examine the body?”
Huang Mingyuan shook his head. “I don’t recall. Two clerks came, asked questions, then left.”
The village was near the station but far from Tanzhou city and county offices. Sending two clerks for a cursory inquiry was normal. Qi Xun concluded that no autopsy had been done. She told Song Huaijin: “My lord, we must examine the remains.”
Huang Mingyuan said uneasily: “Twelve years have passed. He is only bones. How can you examine them?”
Song Huaijin smiled faintly. “Old Huang, that is not your concern. Lead the way.”
The Wu siblings were named Wu Shuang and Wu Yue. By the time they reached Wu Yue’s grave, dusk had already fallen. Huang Mingyuan explained that this was the Wu family burial ground—once a lush grove of pines and cypresses, a place of good fortune. But since the siblings’ tragedy and the family’s end, weeds had overtaken it. In the biting wind, it looked desolate and forlorn.
As night drew near, Song Huaijin himself joined the men in digging up the grave. During this, Xie Nanke and Wang Su returned.
Wang Su reported: “Villagers did see Wu Yue in those days. One elder said Wu Yue came to his house asking where his sister was. It seemed he had returned home but found her missing. After that, no one saw him again.”
Xie Nanke added: “I spoke to a family whose eldest son once wished to marry Wu Shuang. She wanted to wait until Wu Yue was settled in the capital. After she vanished, they searched for her. When Wu Yue’s corpse was found, they believed she too must have met misfortune.”
Huang Mingyuan agreed: “The siblings were deeply devoted. The sister would never abandon her brother. When he died and she never appeared, we all said she must have perished too.”
Li Village lay beside Lotus Village. Xie Nanke said: “Twelve years ago, in the 21st year of Jianyuan, only this one incident occurred between the two villages. No other troubles.”
Remote villages, far from county seats, lived quietly by the rhythm of sunrise and sunset. The Wu siblings’ fate was the strangest event in years.
With no other calamities, Wu Yue’s bones demanded examination. By the time they unearthed the decayed coffin, night had fallen. Torches flared in the wild fields, lighting only small patches. The cold froze water to ice. Song Huaijin ordered straw mats from nearby homes to wrap the bones and carry them back to the station.
By the time they trudged back, it was past the second half of the Dog hour. Snow fell thick as willow fluff. The bones were placed in Yu Ming’s chamber, alongside Old Zhang’s corpse—like a mortuary.
Frost clung to Qi Xun’s lashes. She rubbed her face, ate a quick hot meal, then began examining the bones. Word spread quickly through the station: the Court of Judicial Review had brought back a skeleton from Lotus Village.
Yang Fei and Qi Ran hurried over. Lin Wei came briefly, then returned to report to Fu Jue: “They brought back a skeleton. I saw the coroner piecing bones together—over a hundred fragments. She worked one by one. The dead was said to be a villager who drowned years ago.”
Fu Jue said: “So the case ties to a villager’s death.”
“They say not just one died. A girl vanished, too.”
Fu Jue added: “Chu Qian will reach the capital tomorrow. Have him investigate that scholar they asked about—Xue Mingli.”
Their company carried carrier pigeons. Soon Lin Wei sent the message. Returning, he heard Fu Jue say: “Wait. See what she finds from the bones.”
Lin Wei thought Fu Jue strange, but dared not argue. He muttered: “A drowning twelve years ago—what can bones reveal? Why is master suddenly interested in autopsies?”
In the brightly lit hall, Qi Xun worked over the skeleton. “The pubic angle is narrow, acetabulum outward, ischial tuberosity not everted, skull coarse, bone walls thick. This is a male skeleton. At death, the pubic symphysis showed eversion. He was about nineteen. Height about five chi.”
Song Huaijin said: “Wu Yue was eighteen. His sister nineteen.”
The flesh long gone, only bones remained to estimate age. The coffin had rotted, bones mingled with soil, coated in grime and waxy residue. Qi Xun cleaned them carefully, searching for marks. The process was slow, testing everyone’s patience.
Yang Fei asked: “Could a villager’s death be linked to Lord Yu and General Xin?”
Wu Han and Liu Xie doubted.
Wu Han said: “Twelve years ago, yes. But this was an accidental drowning, unrelated to the station. We should focus on Lord Yu and General Xin.”
Song Huaijin shook his head. “The station had no incident twelve years ago. But the nearby village did. What if it connects? Wu Yue died in May of the 21st year of Jianyuan—just after the spring exams. Results were posted, and graduates were sent out. That was when officials left the capital.”
Yu Ming and Xin Yuanshou’s exact lodging dates were illegible, but the timing matched.
Qi Ran said: “The timing fits. It may be linked. But after so many years, what can bones reveal? Any fractures?”
Qi Xun had assembled the skeleton. At first glance, no obvious breaks. She continued cleaning, seemingly in vain. But Song Huaijin trusted her.
“If nothing unusual, then it was drowning. But if there were foul play, Qi Xun would find it.”
Wu Han and Liu Xie exchanged glances, their eyes showing doubt. Yang Fei and Qi Ran did not openly object, but they too felt little hope. Lin Wei, who had come only out of curiosity, now found himself wishing Qi Xun might truly uncover something unusual.
“My lord, he did not drown.” Qi Xun spoke without lifting her head. “The body was found in the pond. Old Huang said the pond was full of mud and weeds. If Wu Yue had drowned there, his lungs would have contained mud. Later, when buried in the northwest graveyard, that mud would remain. But when we exhumed him, I saw only yellow clay, the same as the soil clinging to the bones. Therefore, I conclude he did not drown.”
Yang Fei protested: “What if he simply didn’t inhale mud?”
Qi Xun smiled faintly. “In a murky pond, that is nearly impossible. A drowning man struggles, stirring up silt. But do not worry, my lord—if he did not drown, finding the true cause of death will not be difficult.”
Yang Fei raised his brows, waiting to see.
Outside, snowflakes whirled. Inside, the lamps crackled. Zhou Wei trimmed the wick several times. The waiting grew unbearable; many thought the examination would yield nothing. Then Qi Xun exhaled deeply. “My lord, I have results—”
Song Huaijin snapped awake, hurrying to her side.
Qi Xun pointed to the ribs. “On the left, the second and third ribs show fractures—one at the lower edge of the second, one at the upper edge of the third. The marks are straight, sharp‑edged—wounds from a blade, like a dagger thrust between the ribs. Beneath lies the heart. Such a wound is fatal. Wu Yue was killed, then thrown into the pond. By the time he was found, decay hid the truth.”
“Wu Yue was murdered!” Song Huaijin’s brows knit tight. “But how does his death connect to Yu Ming and General Xin? Did they kill him? His sister vanished—did she survive, and now seeks revenge?”
These were only guesses. No proof tied Wu Yue’s death to Yu Ming or Xin Yuanshou. Yet it was a twelve‑year‑old murder, the only event coinciding with their stay at Furong Station.
Yang Fei said: “Perhaps it is a separate case. The killer has already struck three times—brazen indeed. If we turn to Wu Yue’s case now, he may seize the chance to kill again.”
His concern was valid. It was near midnight. Song Huaijin decided: “Tomorrow morning, we will first investigate the laborers from Lotus and Li Villages working at the station.”
Only then did Yang Fei and the others leave, reassured.
Qi Xun watched Zhou Wei finish writing the autopsy report. She yawned, exhausted after a sleepless night. Back in her room, she washed and lay down, asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow.
One by one, lamps in the station went out. Only the storm wind and heavy snow remained. At midnight, a door in the eastern quarters opened. A shadow slipped inside.
In the dark, two voices whispered like ghosts:
“I told you we should never have come here…”
“I warned them, too. Xin Yuanshou nearly escaped…”
“Fools, all of them. Now they’ve traced it to Wu Yue. If they dig further, none of us will get away. Who is hiding here, playing tricks? Has Xue Mingli returned…”
“Him? Look around—none here resembles him. Unless he changed his face, I’d know him even as ashes. If only we could find that person and silence him before the Court of Judicial Review discovers…”
“Tomorrow. Tomorrow will be the chance…”