Ci’er looked at Xie Yunjin and let out a soft chuckle.
“To be targeted by him so quickly…
My trip to the Embroidery Bureau wasn’t in vain.”
“Keep your guard up.” Xie Yunjin poured himself a cup of cold tea and said slowly, “In this world, the ones who die the most gruesome deaths are often the clever people who think too highly of themselves.” He set down his teacup, rose, and disappeared behind the curtains.
A gust of cold wind swept in, scattering any lingering traces of intimacy.
The night swallowed the maid selection office once more, as if nothing had happened.
Ci’er sat alone on the couch.
Her damp hair clung to the side of her neck, the icy sensation keeping her perfectly awake.
Another Painted Skin Case…
The public insisted it was the work of the female inmate in the Stone Prison.
She was taking the fall for someone else, yet she had no idea who the real culprit even was.
Sooner or later, this debt would have to be settled.
The mortuary of the Embroidery Bureau was bitterly cold year-round.
When Xie Yunjin pushed open the heavy double doors, someone was already standing inside.
The man had a straight back, his hair secured with a jade crown.
The hem of his white robes was spotless, as though the room’s pervasive stench of death and filth had been forcibly repelled by the frosty aura surrounding him.
Even without the man turning around, Xie Yunjin knew exactly who it was.
In the entire Great Jing Court, there was only one person who could appear in this macabre place at such an hour and have the guards outside grant him access: his dear elder brother, Xie Chen.
“To what do we owe the honor of the Princely Heir gracing us with his presence?” Xie Yunjin asked, his tone frivolous as he closed the door behind him.
Xie Chen turned around.
Slanted eyebrows, phoenix-like eyes, a high-bridged nose, and an utterly indifferent expression.
This face was still so flawless that it filled Xie Yunjin with disgust.
That impeccable rigidity was like copper mirrors incapable of reflecting the truth—impossible to tear down, impossible to see through.
“Brother, the morgue is hardly the place to admire the snow and sip tea.”
“This is the fourth incident,” Xie Chen finally spoke.
“Father flew into a rage at court this morning.”
“Isn’t the young emperor still ill?
Hah.
With Father calling all the shots at court, what is there for him to be angry about?” Xie Yunjin cast a sidelong glance at his brother and strolled over to the autopsy table.
“Or did you listen to Miss Shen’s nonsense and come here to hold the Embroidery Bureau accountable for incompetence?”
Smiling, he threw back the white sheet.
The corpse beneath was a gruesome sight.
Nothing remained of the face but bright red, exposed muscle tissue, its hollow eye sockets staring blankly up at the ceiling beams.
The flayed skin was laid flat on a wooden tray nearby, the patterns embroidered with golden thread glinting coldly under the candlelight.
“The blade entered at the hairline, traced around the ears, and finished at the jaw.” Xie Yunjin’s voice was quiet, yet it seemed to drop the temperature of the mortuary even further.
“The hand was extremely steady.
It was flayed in one swift motion, without a shred of hesitation.”
Xie Chen glanced at it before shifting his gaze to another corpse.
The face on this one had also been flayed, but the rest of the body was intact.
Its arms were raised, its waist arched sharply backward, frozen in a bizarre posture.
It looked like it was flying.
Xie Chen’s pupils contracted slightly.
He had seen this pose before.
When he was seventeen, Wei Yinzhao had sneaked him into the Wei Family Ancestral Hall.
Enshrined within the hall was a statue of the Wei family Goddess.
Exquisitely carved from Agarwood, the statue was captured in this exact same pose.
It was identical.
“That is the very first victim of the Painted Skin Case—the renowned courtesan Ye Xiang, youngest daughter of the Dong family from the former Supervision Department.” Xie Yunjin’s voice snapped him back to reality.
“What?
Did my esteemed brother partake in some romantic tryst behind the red bedcurtains?”
Xie Chen withdrew his gaze, his face betraying absolutely nothing.
“Is that the Dragon Bone Prophecy embroidered on the human skin?”
“You have a sharp eye, Brother.” Xie Yunjin pulled the white sheet back over the mangled face, his tone nonchalant.
“I just don’t know what the killer’s intention is in deliberately contorting a renowned courtesan into a flying apsara pose.”
“Bait,” Xie Chen replied, cutting to the chase.
“Bait for what?” Xie Yunjin turned to lock eyes with him.
“Bait for those holding the other parchment rolls, or…
bait for the Wei family orphan who burned to death in that fire five years ago?”
The air in the room suddenly turned freezing.
To this day, the Wei family case from five years ago remained unsolved.
Over two hundred people had perished overnight.
The public speculated it was a vendetta, but after months of investigation, the government turned up nothing.
Eventually, the matter was dropped, the files were sealed, and no one ever spoke of it again.
Xie Yunjin leaned back against the autopsy table and crossed his arms.
“Speaking of which, if Wei Zhaozhao were still alive, she’d be twenty-one this year, wouldn’t she?
Back when she used to chase you around, she shouted it throughout the entire Capital City that she wanted to take you in as a live-in husband…”
“Second Brother,” Xie Chen said, his voice crisp and cold.
“Watch your words.”
Xie Yunjin let out a light chuckle.
“Fine.
Let’s talk about something I can speak of, then.
The next selection is coming up soon.” He loosened his collar and leaned in closer, his gaze sweeping over Xie Chen’s face.
“You’ve been picking and choosing all these years, Brother.
Haven’t you found a suitable one yet?”
Expressionless, Xie Chen cast one final look at the corpse locked in its flying pose before turning on his heel and leaving.
Dead silence reclaimed the mortuary.
The smile on Xie Yunjin’s face faded inch by inch.
He picked up the bloodstained Willow Leaf Saber from the iron tray on the table.
Wrapping a silk cloth around the blade, he began to wipe it down stroke by stroke, from tip to hilt.
His movements were incredibly slow, almost as though he were preparing a corpse for burial.
Ying Qi stood in the corner, holding his breath as he waited.
It wasn’t until the blade had been polished to a brilliant shine, clear enough to reflect his own image, that Xie Yunjin raised his eyes.
“Ask whatever it is you want to ask,” he said slowly.
Ying Qi gave a light cough and swallowed hard.
“Director, why are you so certain the Princely Heir will ultimately choose Miss Shen?”
Xie Yunjin scoffed.
He sheathed the knife and casually tossed it onto the table.
“He doesn’t have a choice.
Father can’t wait any longer, nor will he tolerate any more delays.”
Ying Qi began to understand.
Rumors regarding the Princely Heir’s fiercely Yang astrological chart and ill-omened destiny had been circulating throughout the Prince Mansion for five whole years.
It was said that without the harmonization of extreme Yin water, the Princely Heir would not live to see thirty, and any heirs he sired would die.
Therefore, before he could officially wed, he had to first find and couple with a woman of “Pure Yin Water Destiny” to balance his Yin and Yang and ensure the continuation of the family line.
The Nine-Bestowments Royal Mansion controlled the maid selection office, overtly and covertly amassing countless women.
Yet, despite hosting selection after selection over the last five years, not a single woman had managed to catch the Princely Heir’s eye.
The Princely Heir was now twenty-six, and his wedding had been postponed time and time again.
If things continued on like this without any progress, it would surely tarnish the reputation of the Prince Mansion.
Shen Ci’er was the “antidote” Xie Yunjin had tailor-made just for him.