Fu Xiujin walked over and gestured as he explained: “Cao Hongfa’s height reaches just about Zhao Shaobai’s lips. You are more than half a head taller than Concubine Chen. Unless she stood on something, with her height, her hands would only reach Cao Hongfa’s neck directly from behind, leaving horizontal strangulation marks—not the angled ones we found. But if she did stand on something to match your height, the bed’s railing would block her line of sight, making it inconvenient for her to carry out the attack.”
Yao Shu bent down to check from her own angle. Indeed, most of her view was blocked by the bed’s carved railing—she could only see clearly through the decorative gaps. At that moment, something struck her. She suddenly jumped off the bed, slipped on her shoes, and ran outside.
“Your Highness, look around the room for a long yellow silk scarf. I’ll check the body and be right back.”
Before Fu Xiujin could reply, Yao Shu had already dashed out through the moon gate. When she returned from the study, she held a sheet of paper with a black oval mark the size of an egg.
“You suspect the killer stood on the bed and strangled Master Cao through the gaps in the railing, don’t you?”
Fu Xiujin had already guessed as much from her glance at the railing. When he climbed onto the bed himself to confirm, he was convinced of Yao Shu’s deduction.
“Yes. In this way, the weapon could be looped through the railing to strangle his neck. Even if the killer weren’t tall enough, it wouldn’t matter—they could pull the other end with force. Because of the angle, it would leave the upward-slanting strangulation marks on his neck.”
Fu Xiujin cast Yao Shu a look of approval. Her cheeks warmed—wasn’t this man supposed to be the cold-faced “jade Yama”? Why did he suddenly feel like a spring breeze?
Shaking off the thought, she raised the sheet of paper. “And I found further evidence on the body that can help identify the killer.”
The crowd outside heard this and craned their necks to peer in. Fu Xiujin’s gaze locked onto one figure.
Yao Shu called Madam Guo and Steward Wang inside, asking them to stand on the bed and look at the railing. Madam Guo stared for a long while, still confused.
Yao Shu pointed at the carved top of the railing. “See the dust? It’s everywhere, isn’t it?”
Madam Guo nodded. Yao Shu then indicated two specific gaps. “Only these two spots are clean. Servants wouldn’t just wipe those places. Something must have rubbed the dust away.”
She then had Zhao Shaobai stand before the bed. She pulled off her belt, threaded it through the two gaps, and looped it around his neck. With a gentle tug, Zhao Shaobai tilted his head back, and Yao Shu pressed her foot against his back.
“This is how the killer strangled Master Cao—pulling from behind while bracing a foot against his back. That way, they compensated for both lack of height and lack of strength.”
After explaining, Yao Shu released Zhao Shaobai and held up the paper with the black mark.
“At first, the corpse was placed sitting in a chair. Later, it was tied beneath the carriage, which caused large patches of livor mortis on the back. This oval bruise from the killer’s heel pressing hard was mixed in with those marks. When I re-examined the body, I confirmed it was inflicted while alive. The killer didn’t press with the whole foot, only the heel, leaving this roundish bruise. If everyone makes a heel print on paper, we can quickly identify the culprit.”
“Impressive, Coroner Yao,” Zhao Shaobai applauded. He hadn’t expected this seemingly inexperienced apprentice to be so sharp.
Madam Guo and Steward Wang agreed and prepared to collect heel samples from the household. But before they could begin, Fu Xiujin suddenly spoke, his gaze piercing: “Why not start with Concubine Chen?”
His eyes seemed to see through her soul. Concubine Chen’s face turned deathly pale; she clutched her sleeves, refusing to move, no matter how others urged her.
“I say it was her! Make her stamp the paper—it must be her!” Concubine Su shouted, rushing forward to shove Concubine Chen to the ground. Madam Guo did not stop her, even ordering a maid to fetch ink and paper.
In full view of everyone, Concubine Chen was forced down and her heel print taken. The maid handed it to Yao Shu. The match was almost identical.
“This kind of heel size could belong to many people—it’s not me! And Concubine Su clearly heard a man’s voice. How can you accuse me?” Concubine Chen cried from the floor, glaring desperately at Fu Xiujin.
But Fu Xiujin didn’t look at her again. Instead, his gaze shifted to another man. “Liu Dali, do you have anything to explain?”
Yao Shu had already suspected two killers. From the start, everyone either had an alibi for the time of death or for when the body was moved. She had thought there might be an accomplice, but hadn’t expected Fu Xiujin to pinpoint one so quickly.
Liu Dali hadn’t expected to be named. He forced a calm expression and claimed ignorance. Fu Xiujin’s lips curved faintly, but he didn’t press him yet.
“From the moment Concubine Chen arrived, your eyes never left her. When Coroner Yao announced she had found evidence, you both looked at each other—her eyes full of fear, yours full of anxiety. Coincidentally, the night before last, you finished playing cards and patrolled alone, right after Master Cao’s death. Too much of a coincidence, isn’t it?”
Fu Xiujin’s words struck like heavy blows, turning Liu Dali’s face ashen. Yet he stubbornly insisted it was all a coincidence.
“In that case, why don’t we find the murder weapon to convince you?”
Fu Xiujin pointed to Concubine Chen’s wardrobe, secured with an ornate lock.
Earlier, Yao Shu had asked him to look for a yellow silk scarf. He had already guessed the weapon was likely clothing. Zhao Shaobai had searched but found nothing—except this locked wardrobe.
“What’s the point of locking a wardrobe? Clearly guilty! Maid, are you deaf? Bring the key!”
Yao Shu nearly laughed aloud. Concubine Su’s hatred for Concubine Chen was so deep that she seemed determined to roast her alive with every word.