LBLCPCB C6

Chapter 6

The three of them sat again in the inner court, staring wordlessly at each other.

After sipping a cup of Qu Zhoubai’s tea, Gu Huaiyu was first to speak. “Since the man has already been caught, you should return to court and make your report. Best to see what the Emperor thinks first.”

Qu nodded. “That’s what I was thinking as well.”

But Zhu Song disagreed. “Reporting so hastily risks angering His Majesty. It may be better to investigate first. If it is truly proven that the Lin family were slaughtered, then Lin Feng’s actions, though misguided, would be understandable—his crime would not warrant death.”

He was thinking only of saving Lin Feng’s life.

Gu Huaiyu was unsurprised at his stance, yet said calmly: “Since we already have him in custody, the Emperor surely already knows. Let’s divide our efforts. Old Qu, return to court with the report. Brother Song and I will interrogate Lin Feng directly, and establish whether the fire of the Lin household hides any dark truth.”

Qu agreed, and left at once for the palace.

Meanwhile, Zhu Song and Gu Huaiyu went down to the Capital Prefecture prison to question Lin Feng.

On the way, Zhu Song joked: “Old Qu will surely be scolded today.”

Huaiyu replied: “The ‘Qingxing’ turned out false—His Majesty won’t be pleased, so of course he’ll vent his anger. Old Qu is used to such things. He’s been called into the palace many times, just to be shouted at.”

Laughing, Zhu Song remembered: “The three of us all passed the imperial exam together, yet while we two entered the Judicial Court, he was sent to the Capital Prefecture instead. At the time, Old Qu sought to appeal directly to His Majesty, begging also for an assignment to the Court. He was scolded harshly—His Majesty barked at him: ‘What did you think being an official was, a marketplace where you pick and choose?’”

Gu Huaiyu chuckled. “And to make it worse, Old Qu dared talk back—said if he couldn’t be with us then he wouldn’t have even come, which only made the Emperor blow his beard out in anger. Since then he’s been His Majesty’s favorite target. Every so often, the Emperor calls him just to berate him a few times.”

Zhu Song remembered another tale, laughing aloud. “For Old Qu’s sake, His Majesty once transferred Prefect Zhao all the way to Beizhou to cultivate lychees. Poor Prefect Zhao, seventy-some years old, and still banished to farming.”

“True,” Gu sighed. “But with him pushed out, Beizhou’s lychee harvests improved greatly. And if he wants to return to the capital, of course he’ll perform zealously now. Otherwise His Majesty might send him north to tame deserts at Beimo.”

Zhu Song winced. “No mercy. At his age, desert reclamation! Heaven forbid I encounter the same…”

Their chatter ended as they entered the prison. Side by side, they walked to Lin Feng’s cell. Zhu Song ordered the guards: “Open up.”

Lin Feng stood respectfully and bowed. “Greetings, honored lords.”

“Rise,” Zhu Song instructed. “Answer us plainly. Tell us everything you know.”

“Yes.”

And so Lin Feng began.

Thirteen years ago, he was only five. For him, that day had seemed ordinary. Guests had come and gone frequently in those weeks, but being too small he was forbidden in the reception hall, left only to play in the courtyard.

That night, asleep in his bed, he’d been jolted awake—his mother’s hand tight across his mouth and arm, her eyes wide with terror. He’d tried to cry, but no sound emerged. Then she whispered to him:

“Feng’er, our family is in danger. I’ll hide you now. No matter what you see, make not a sound. Or mother shall never make you lotus cakes again.”

And before he could even answer, he was thrust beneath the bed, hidden further with trunks piled up before him.

Moments later the door splintered. His mother fell before invaders, demanding of them, “Who are you!” But through the narrow gap of trunks, all he saw were black boots, blood snaking like rivers across the ground—and his mother’s eyes, frozen open in death.

After, the killers set fire to everything. Smoke and flames grew unbearable, until he was forced to crawl out from hiding. Before him, the entire Shuyun Manor towered in fire. He staggered, terrified, and fled. By pure chance, he escaped with his life.

Here Lin Feng stopped. He dropped his gaze, tears brimming. “My lords, that is the truth. We were slaughtered. I beg you—restore justice for the thirty-one lives of my clan.”

But Zhu Song did not answer that. He pressed further: “And afterwards?”

Lin Feng blinked. “Afterwards?”

“You escaped the manor. Where did you go then?”

A shadow passed across Lin Feng’s eyes. They darted evasively. “I… I—”

Gu Huaiyu spoke hard: “You pretended at demons, stirring chaos in the capital, and now His Majesty himself commands your arrest. If you continue hiding truth, we cannot shield you. Shall the grievances of your family be buried forever?”

Zhu Song added gravely: “The Prefect is already before the throne. Without solid evidence, you will likely not live past tomorrow’s sun. Without a plaintiff or proof, such an old case can only become a story lost to time.”

Gu waved his hand. “Come, let’s go.”

“Yes, let us,” Zhu agreed.

At once Lin Feng panicked. “No! Don’t leave, I’ll speak!”

He confessed hurriedly: “After I ran from Shuyun Manor, I collapsed in the woods with fever. When at last I recovered, I had lost my memory. Three years I lived as a beggar in the capital. One night, starving past my wits, I found a luxurious carriage. I begged food from it. The driver tried to dismiss me, but the noble inside saw me, gave me pastries, and asked if I would follow him, promising to feed me.

Of course I agreed.

He brought me to a residence outside the city, where I grew up. Until last year, when sickness came again—and memory returned. I swore to avenge my kin. But the case was too old, my power too small. Whoever wiped out my family, able to silence us all at once, must hold fearsome power.

So I resolved to create chaos. To attract all eyes upon me. Then no matter how great his influence, he could not silence me again. That is why I disguised myself in this monstrous way, so the matter could not be ignored.”

Zhu Song frowned. “Your account still holds many holes. But time is short. We’ll see for ourselves at Shuyun Manor. When we return, I hope you choose honesty.”

Lin Feng dropped his head, silent.

So Zhu Song and Gu Huaiyu, with men in tow, rushed to Shuyun Manor—better known now as Wild Ghost Slope.

Thirteen years had passed. Flames had long erased traces. But looking out across the slope, butterfly orchids swayed in the sun, like tens of thousands of butterflies rising.

Gu asked: “Can you tell which patch grows thickest?”

For plants, lushness often marked buried remains. Yet here, growth was everywhere. It all looked the same.

Zhu Song’s eyes swept carefully. He pointed. “Dig there.”

Gu, though seeing nothing special, trusted him and gave the order. Runners raised shovels.

Soon, darkened soil surfaced. Gu whistled appreciatively. “Remarkable—you saw that?”

“Small matter,” Zhu waved off.

“How?” Huaiyu pressed curiously. “There was nothing unusual there.”

Zhu tilted his head, teasing. “Want to know?”

Knowing him too well, Huaiyu sighed. “Name your price.”

“My mother arranged for me to meet the Zhangs’ young lady at Xuan Yin Pavilion the day after tomorrow. Go in my place.”

Huaiyu blinked. “But Aunt Meng went to Xiangguo Temple. How could she set appointments while away?”

Zhu’s lips twisted in resignation. “Who knows. But the letter made clear I must go.”

“It said you had to go. Doesn’t mean it had to be you,” Huaiyu argued. “Still, is it really right for me the substitute?”

“She likes you better anyway. Claim her fury if you must—she’ll never scold you. Help me out.”

Huaiyu hesitated, then gave in. “Fine. Now speak.”

Satisfied, Zhu explained: “The Lin family were merchants. Naturally they valued auspicious feng shui. But to abandon the capital’s bustle for such mountains meant their standards were extremely high. Look here—peaks encircle, mist gathers: in feng shui terms, a treasure basin. A rare land. A family like theirs would not squander the center on a massive house, too ostentatious. They would shrink the manor, expand gardens, but always keep the building at the spiritual heart.”

Huaiyu gaped. “You can read feng shui?”

They’d grown up together, yet he had never known.

Zhu smirked proudly. “Your brother’s abilities are endless.”

At that moment, a runner cried: “My lords! Bones found!”

Another on the other side shouted: “Here too!”

“Come, let’s see,” Zhu commanded, hurrying downslope.

Skeletons littered the dirt. After thirteen years, flesh was gone, only bone remaining. Without burials, they had fractured.

“Bring water,” Zhu ordered. “Wash soil from them. Lay them in order.”

The guards faltered. “We can wash them, but arranging the bodies—better call a wuzuo⁵.”

Wuzuo: professional coroners. But fetching one would waste time.

Gu Huaiyu stood forward. “Clean them. I’ll arrange.”

The guards stared in surprise. “So delicate a lord, yet knows mortician’s work?”

The Capital Prefecture’s runners did not understand his real capabilities. For them, he was only a striking beauty—not one who pieced corpses together.

Footnote

 

1. Wuzuo / 仵作 — an official coroner in imperial China, specialist in examining corpses and crime scenes.