In the inner chamber, Lü Jin fixed his cold gaze on the man rummaging over the deceased beside the bed and asked sternly, "Who are you?"
As an official of the Ministry of Justice, Lord Wu naturally understood that the crime scene must not be disturbed by outsiders. Aside from the officials from the Tribunal, the only other person present was Lord Wu himself, who stood frozen with shock in the main hall. So who was this man?
The man turned his head, gave a slight bow, and replied, "I am Jiang Xin, the forensic examiner from the Ministry of Justice. Lord Wu summoned me."
So he was the coroner. Lü Jin waved him away, and the man nodded knowingly before stepping aside.
When Zhuo Qing entered the inner chamber, she saw Lü Jin examining the corpse and refrained from interrupting. She crouched down to inspect the still partially coagulated blood. The room was modest in size; the victim had lost a great deal of blood, which stained the bed's edges and the screen nearby.
The deceased lay completely naked. The chamber was orderly, showing no signs of struggle or violence.
Zhuo Qing's sudden movement, brushing against the bloodstains, startled Jiang Xin, who cried out softly, "What are you doing?"
Lü Jin turned around, recognized the visitor, and respectfully greeted, "Madam."
Zhuo Qing rose and asked gravely, "What is the situation?"
Lü Jin dared not show the slightest negligence and promptly reported the findings: "The victim died between the hours of Chou and Yin today. There were no other injuries on the body except a single stab wound to the chest, and the heart had been removed. Yet, her face bore no expression of terror."
Zhuo Qing approached, glancing at the corpse on the bed. The victim's skin was pale and slightly wrinkled from blood loss, but her expression was remarkably serene, as if she were merely sleeping.
Jiang Xin stared in astonishment at Zhuo Qing's calm demeanor while examining such a gruesome corpse. Who was this woman? Despite the horrifying scene, she remained composed. Lü Jin's respectful address as "Madam" suggested she might be related to Lord Shan.
As Zhuo Qing carefully examined, her hand paused while stroking the deceased's abdomen. She pressed lightly, her eyes darkening as she suddenly asked, "Lord Wu, is the young lady betrothed?"
A clear female voice echoed inside. Wu Zhigang, barely recovered from the shock of the death, replied slowly, "No. Xu'er was betrothed to the third son of the Minister of Rites, an arranged marriage set for three months from now. Both families were preparing for the wedding. None could have foreseen this tragedy."
He never imagined such a fate would befall his daughter.
At the foot of the bed, Zhuo Qing tried to part the woman's legs, but rigor mortis prevented her, so she instructed Lü Jin, "Help me lift her feet a little."
Lü Jin nodded awkwardly. Although he had examined female corpses before, this was his first time working alongside a woman. Bowing his head slightly, he gently lifted the deceased's feet.
After some difficulty, Zhuo Qing loudly inquired, "Did Miss Xu'er have any other lovers?"
The room fell deathly silent, followed by Wu Zhigang's furious roar outside the screen: "How dare you slander my daughter! Though she is gone, you cannot impugn her honor!"
Zhuo Qing remained impassive and replied coldly, "She was pregnant—nearly four months along."
"What?!" Wu Zhigang sprang to his feet and stormed to the screen, pointing at Zhuo Qing and shouting in anger, "That's impossible! My daughter was virtuous and pure. How dare you assert she was with child?"
Zhuo Qing met his accusatory glare calmly and retorted, "Her abdomen is visibly swollen, and she was not a virgin."
"Swelling does not necessarily indicate pregnancy! That is absurd!" Wu Zhigang interrupted before she could finish.
Xu'er had often complained of abdominal pain in life; it could be any illness, but certainly not pregnancy! An unmarried woman bearing a child would disgrace the family. If such were true, how could he face the Wu family? It was impossible—Xu'er could not be pregnant!
Jiang Xin, standing nearby, hastily steadied Wu Zhigang, who was breathing heavily from grief and anger. Frowning, he addressed Zhuo Qing gravely, "Madam, an enlarged abdomen might be caused by an internal ailment, such as a tumor, not necessarily pregnancy. Your rash conclusion could damage the young lady's reputation."
Zhuo Qing glanced at him without reply, then turned to Lü Jin and asked, "What is your opinion?"
Lü Jin approached the corpse again and pressed gently on the abdomen. It was indeed distended. Was it truly a child? Having never examined a corpse with a tumor before, he hesitated and spoke softly, "To confirm whether Miss Wu was pregnant, a postmortem dissection is the most reliable method—seeing is believing."
Her meticulous attitude pleased Zhuo Qing. She nodded approvingly and then addressed the seething Wu Zhigang with solemnity: "After death, organs undergo varying degrees of decomposition. A tumor would soften postmortem, but the fetus is fully formed with flesh, blood, and bone, so the abdomen remains swollen long after death. Still, Lü Jin's suggestion is best: an autopsy will reveal the truth."
"This… this cannot be…" Wu Zhigang staggered backward. Indeed, an incision would prove whether a child was present. There would be no need for falsehoods against Xu'er. Yet, how could she be pregnant? What was going on?
Overwhelmed, his vision darkened, and he nearly collapsed.
"Sir, are you alright?" Jiang Xin quickly supported him. After a moment, Wu Zhigang's eyes fluttered open, his face pale and expression vacant.
Shan Yulan shook his head and said, "Jiang Xin, please escort Lord Wu out to rest."
"Understood."
As they left the inner chamber, Jiang Xin almost collided with Gu Yun, who stood coolly by the screen, watching silently. Jiang Xin was taken aback by the coldness in the black-clad woman's gaze—it was incongruous with her delicate features.
Diverting her eyes, Jiang Xin helped Wu Zhigang out. Gu Yun entered the chamber and cast only a brief glance at the corpse, trusting Zhuo Qing to handle the examination.
At the window, she checked the firmly locked latch—this was indeed a sealed room.
Squatting down, Gu Yun squinted at the thick carpet, hoping to find footprints, but none were visible.
Frustrated, she prepared to rise, but noticed a faint dark stain on the redwood shoe rack beneath the bed. Upon closer inspection, it was a blurred circular mark adorned with strange patterns. What could this be?
Nearby lay a pair of embroidered shoes and a large pool of blood dripping from the bed's edge. No other clues matched this mark. Had the killer left it behind?
Pondering briefly, Gu Yun murmured, "Paper and brush."
"Coming."
No sooner had she spoken than Cheng Hang appeared, paper and brush in hand. He crouched beside her, also noticing the dark red circular stain next to the embroidered shoes.
"What is this?"
He studied it for some time but could not discern its meaning.
The brush was unwieldy. Frowning, Gu Yun handed the paper and brush to Cheng Hang.
"You draw."
He blinked in surprise, sighed, and obediently began sketching on the floor. There was an inexplicable force about this woman—he found himself compelled to follow her command.
After thoroughly re-examining the chamber without uncovering further evidence, Gu Yun turned to Shan Yulan.
"Lord Shan, I wish to review the case files from the previous three incidents for our afternoon discussion."
Though her eyes remained clear, they were bloodshot. After all, she was a woman; her constitution could hardly endure such grueling strain.
Shan Yulan sighed softly, "Miss Qing, please rest well. We can discuss matters tomorrow morning."
Gu Yun stubbornly refused, her voice icy: "I am fine. At 3 PM—Shen hour—I will await you at the Tribunal."
After speaking, she glanced at Cheng Hang still crouching on the floor.
"Finished?"
Cheng Hang, after careful comparison, looked up and said, "Done."
"Take me to the files."
He glanced nervously at Shan Yulan, who pondered briefly before nodding slowly. Cheng Hang stood, collected his tools, and replied, "Follow me."
Before leaving, Gu Yun addressed Zhuo Qing, who was still examining the corpse, her back turned:
"Send me the autopsy report this afternoon. Any issues?"
Her attention lingered on the wound on the corpse's chest.
Zhuo Qing answered naturally, as if rehearsed countless times during their past collaborations, "No issues."
Satisfied, Gu Yun departed the chamber.
Lou Xiyan watched their tacit interaction silently, a faint, inscrutable gleam flickering in her eyes, yet she said nothing.
As Gu Yun stepped outside and passed a towering shadow, a sharp pain shot through her wrist as an iron-like grip clasped it. The searing heat made her frown, but the voice in her ear was colder than ice—a hoarse snarl:
"Do you want to die so badly?"
Five days and nights, she had only rested briefly at midnight each night, never once
sleeping soundly. Gu Yun looked up and met the dark eyes of a man leaning close—a killer's glare.
She did not flinch, only hissed, "Who sent you?"
The man's lips curled, but he said nothing, releasing her wrist and vanishing into the shadows.
The mystery deepened.