So when a pig was slaughtered, it was perfectly normal for the neighbors to come and help. Whether they were paid was another matter; being given a share of the meat and some of the pig’s offal to take home for their wives and children was enough to count as having meat for a meal.
For ordinary commoners in this era, eating meat was a luxury. Some families could only have a meal with meat during festivals and holidays, even after going an entire year without it. Under normal circumstances, they had little oil or grease to eat, let alone meat.
Hearing Old Zhou’s voice, one of the men, whose face was somewhat square and firm, turned around and smiled. “Uncle Zhou, are you here to buy meat? Perfect timing. We just slaughtered a pig today, and the meat is fresh.”
Old Zhou said in a low voice, “This is Tu Zhengde.”
Everyone could see clearly that Tu Zhengde’s hand was wrapped in a strip of white cloth, and blood was still seeping through it.
And, by no coincidence, it was his left thumb.
Could the butcher who had stolen the corpse from the Mortuary be this pig butcher?
Old Zhou was not afraid of facing a room full of corpses at night, but now he was feeling somewhat frightened. Butchering was a profession in which one used a white blade that went in and a red blade that came out every day. With so many lives on a butcher’s hands, it was inevitable that he would radiate a murderous air.
Fortunately, there were many of them. If there had not been so many people, Old Zhou might have run away.
Standing behind Long Qiao, he still had the courage to ask a couple of questions.
“Yes, I’d like to buy some.” Old Zhou stepped closer, then glanced again at Tu Zhengde’s hand. “What happened to your hand? Did you hurt it?”
At that, Tu Zhengde’s face took on an extremely frustrated expression.
“Don’t ask. The pig struggled too violently this morning. I missed with one stroke and chopped my own hand.”
Tu Zhengde was an open and straightforward man. He merely felt unlucky and did not think this was anything shameful, so he raised his hand and showed it to everyone.
The location of the injury was exactly where Jiang Yunxin had deduced it would be.
But Tu Zhengde was being far too calm. He knew Old Zhou’s identity. If he really had stolen the corpse, how could he act so unconcerned?
After showing them the wound, Tu Zhengde casually asked, “Old Zhou, who are these people?”
Although Fang Mingyan and the others were not wearing official robes and were dressed in their own, differing plain clothes, their clothing—even Jiang Yunxin’s—was entirely different from that of the villagers of Springwater Village. As the villagers would have put it, they looked at a glance like people from the capital, young masters and young ladies from wealthy families.
Of course, although Jiang Yunxin was currently the thorn in her stepmother’s side and the pain in her flesh, her life was not overly harsh. Her clothes might not have kept up with the latest fashions, but she was not reduced to coarse cloth and a diet of plain tea and rice.
“Oh, they’re…” Old Zhou glanced at Fang Mingyan and hesitated.
They had forgotten to discuss this beforehand. How was he supposed to introduce them? Were they going to conceal their identities, or loudly announce who they were?
Fang Mingyan pushed past Old Zhou and walked forward. Surely the dignified head of the Judicial Review Office did not need to skulk around in fear.
With a solemn expression, Fang Mingyan said, “I am Fang Mingyan of the Judicial Review Office. I am currently investigating a case. The murderer’s finger may have been severed in the same way as yours.”
Tu Zhengde’s expression turned somewhat unpleasant, though his face had already looked unwell from the blood he had lost after severing his finger.
“My lord, you suspect I’m the murderer? That’s not it. I accidentally cut off my own finger just now.”
As he spoke, Tu Zhengde tried to unwrap the cloth around his hand so that Fang Mingyan could take a look.
But Fang Mingyan stopped him and instead asked, “Who can prove it?”
Tu Zhengde froze, then hurriedly pointed to the three people standing nearby.
“They can all prove it.”
This surprised everyone. The three men nodded repeatedly and chimed in, saying that they could testify that Old Tu had indeed chopped off his own finger by accident.
And it had happened only a short while ago—just a quarter of an hour earlier.
The three men explained that they were all Tu Zhengde’s neighbors and lived nearby. As usual, they had come over to help him that day.
They had not expected that after the pig was tied to the chopping board, Tu Zhengde’s knife would slip when he brought it down, cutting off his own thumb. The blood had gushed everywhere; they had all witnessed it with their own eyes, and they had seen the finger as well.
Fang Mingyan asked, “What happened to the severed finger?”
One of the neighbors pointed toward the pigpen. “It was thrown in there and eaten by the pig. I was the one who threw it in, so there’s no mistake. It was that spotted pig… It swallowed it in one bite.”
…
Everyone was left speechless. Even Old Zhou could not help asking, “Why did you throw it into the pigpen?”
Tu Zhengde replied helplessly, “It was just habit. Don’t we throw anything edible, or whatever is left over from a meal, into the pigpen? I was so dizzy from the pain that when Old Li asked what to do with my finger, my mind went blank and I told him to feed it to the pigs. Who would have thought he’d be so quick? He tossed it in before I could stop him.”
Pigs were not herbivores but omnivores. They ate grass and meat alike—and if a person had no way to fight back, they would even eat a person.
Jiang Yunxin had once seen a news report about a child who, because he was not properly supervised, accidentally climbed into a pigpen. The pigs had gnawed away half his head. It had been horrifying.
So there was nothing wrong with what they were saying.
Families that kept dogs did the same thing, throwing any leftovers to the dogs.
Families that raised chickens likewise fed their leftovers to the chickens.
Stealing corpses was such an absurd act that one person doing it was one thing. But if four people had colluded to do it, that was highly unlikely. Such theft was generally driven by some twisted, abnormal desire that the culprit could not reveal, and it could not be exchanged for real money. It was not the sort of thing people would commit as a group.
If there had been only one person, it was possible that he had received some benefit and was giving false testimony for Tu Zhengde.
But there were three of them. It would be difficult for them to coordinate their false testimony in such a short time. And were they really acting so convincingly?
Could it truly have been an accident? Of course, that was not impossible. After all, without coincidences, there would be no stories.
Jiang Yunxin had a habit. Although she was not a forensic investigator, whenever she entered a crime scene, she liked to look around carefully in addition to examining the corpse. Some evidence that was difficult to discover would always be hidden in a very obscure, inconspicuous place.
As she was looking around, she suddenly heard a muffled sound coming from inside the house.
It was the indistinct voice of an elderly woman. She seemed unable to speak clearly, able only to make vague sounds.
Everyone heard it too, and they all turned toward the place where the sound had come from.
If Fang Mingyan and the others had been ordinary customers who had come to buy pork, Tu Zhengde would certainly have been extremely displeased and driven them out by now. But they had come from the government to investigate a case, so even if he was unhappy, he did not dare say anything.
He also had to offer an explanation.
Tu Zhengde explained, “That’s my mother inside. Her health is poor, and she’s not entirely clearheaded either. She injured her tongue some time ago, so she can’t speak clearly.”
Everyone understood.
Old Zhou had already told them that Tu Zhengde was a filial son who kept an elderly mother in poor health at home.
She had probably heard that people had come outside and misunderstood that something had happened to her son. Worried, the old woman kept making hoarse sounds, but they were not words—only meaningless noises from her throat.
She was also slapping the floor with her hand, as if she were extremely anxious and agitated.
Of course, that was understandable.