“That’s all for tonight.” Gu folded the ledger and slipped it into his sleeve. “Dawn approaches. I’ll return to the Prefect’s Office and review Master Liu’s old military records and Chun-niang’s entries.”

  Mu patted my shoulder.

  “I’ll go back to the inn and compare today’s testimonies.”

  I opened my mouth to agree—but my collar suddenly tightened.

  “You. With me.” Lian’s teeth nearly ground the words.

  “Where else would I go?” I sighed. “Could you at least stop grabbing my collar? Hard to breathe.”

  Back at the inn, the lamp flickered low.

  Lian threw me onto the bed and leaned against the window, arms crossed.

  “Speak. The night you left Shenmu Mountain—where did you go?”

  “I… well, I shouldn’t have left, I admit. No letter, no word—that was my fault.”

  “You think?”

  “But hey, you found me, didn’t you? And I’ve been helping ever since!”

  “Helping yourself, more like.”

  “Heh…”

  Hua watched our bickering like a spectator at a play, tapping his fan.

  “Enough. The real matter—if Miss Liu’s death was unnatural and involved pregnancy, the body must be examined again.”

  I clasped my hands together, desperate. “Then help me, both of you! Lian, Hua—you’ve seen more than I have. If we don’t piece this case together now, her death will be buried for good.”

  Hua sighed. “You do know how to beg nicely.”

  Lian muttered, “This better not be another one of your schemes.”

  But neither of them walked away.

  “I promised. But it’s been seven days!” I murmured. “Chun-niang won’t let anyone near. Says she’s fulfilling the lady’s wish—to ‘depart in peace’.”

  “Peace comes after truth,” Lian said coldly.

  “Gu will have thought of that too,” I muttered. “But as an official, he needs decorum. Unlike you two.”

  “Is that praise or insult?” Hua raised a brow.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  “...Praise. Definitely praise.”

  By noon, a short letter came from Gu.

  He had secured permission to re-examine the body that night.

  So, under moonlight, the four of us slipped once more into the Liu estate.

  The hall reeked of incense. A red lamp burned before the coffin, its light trembling like a weeping smile.

  Chun-niang knelt beside it, sleepless. When she saw us enter, her face paled.

  “We must examine her again,” Gu said, voice firm but not unkind. “If you truly care for your mistress, help us clear her name.”

  “No!” Chun-niang rose, eyes wet. “The officials have already inspected her. They said she died from fright—possessed! You’ll disturb her peace!”

  “We mean no harm,” I added softly. “If she truly died without injustice, we’ll close the coffin again and leave. But if not—shouldn’t she be heard?”

  “She’s already honored, her tablet enshrined! What more do you want? Let her rest!” Tears rolled down her cheeks as her voice broke.

  Gu’s tone deepened.

  “And if she cannot rest? If she’s waiting for us—to bring justice?”

  Chun-niang trembled.

  “We don’t doubt her,” he went on. “We doubt the living. Someone killed her, then hid behind talk of ghosts. You call her ‘Miss’—yet you would let her die voiceless?”

  Her will broke. She knelt back down, whispering,

  “...Do it then. Just—be gentle. Don’t startle her.”

  “Open it,” I said quietly.

  Lian and Hua exchanged a look, then lifted the coffin lid.

  A rush of cold air struck us. I nearly choked before Lian yanked me back.

  Inside lay the lady—peaceful, lifelike—except for the long crack along her right temple, running from brow to ear, the dried blood faintly purple-black.

  “Not a cut, not a fall,” Lian murmured, sweeping aside the candle smoke and bending close. His fingers traced the fracture line with surgical calm.

  “Not struck from outside,” Hua said lightly, tapping the skull’s edge. “It burst from within.”

  “You saw it too?” Lian’s eyes glinted. “The bone and membrane reversed outward. The blow avoided major veins—too precise. This was a sealing technique, Qi disruption.”

  “Perhaps ‘Soul-Piercing Finger’, or ‘Bone-Shattering Palm’,” Hua mused. “Both forbidden arts. Few alive can wield them.”

  “If it were pure impact, her skull would’ve shattered completely,” Lian said. “No—her inner energy imploded. Perhaps her meridians were already unstable. One spark—and she perished.”

  “But she wasn’t a martial artist,” I whispered. “Could it be poison?”

  “Not necessarily,” Lian said, frowning. “If she’d been weak for long, taking certain medicines... one surge of emotion could ignite the imbalance.”

  I stared.

  “You mean... she exploded herself?”

  “Not by will,” Hua said softly. “Someone triggered it.”

  Silence fell.

  “I checked the guards’ reports,” Gu said at last. “At the third watch, a scream came from her room. Master was the first to enter.”

  “And when he did?”

  “Blood everywhere. Skull fractured. Door intact. No extra footprints.”

  “If not ghosts,” Hua murmured, closing his fan, “then only he was there—to witness the ‘accident’.”

  “Ah, humans,” Lian said coldly. “Always blaming ghosts for their own sins.”

  I swallowed.

  “Then what really happened that night?”

  No one answered.

  Only the incense crackled faintly—

  and somewhere behind us, a quiet sound stirred the shadows.