[Bai Zhun rolls his eyes — he is even knocking out a rhythm now]

Liu Er froze in place, but Da Tou and the others didn’t dare let their guard down. Judging by the situation, Liu Er was definitely involved. They swarmed forward and grabbed him.

Street vendors craned their necks to watch the commotion, pointing fingers and whispering guesses about what crime Liu Er might have committed.

Liu Er didn’t resist as the patrolmen shackled him. He just stared straight at Huo Zhenye and said, “Don’t go after my Senior Sister.”

Huo Zhenye’s face held not a hint of a smile. No matter what Jin Dangui and Liu Da had done, Su Manli was innocent.

They escorted Liu Er back to the precinct. Liu Er had thought he’d covered his tracks flawlessly—until Huo Zhenye described exactly how he’d entered Su Manli’s room.

His face turned ashen. Even footprints and fingerprints could be traced?

“You knew all along?”

“Yes.” Huo Zhenye tapped his fingers on the table. “When you came to the precinct to pick up Liu Da, the news of Su Manli’s death hadn’t even been reported yet. How did you know about it?”

That was the logical gap. From there, it was just about collecting evidence.

Liu Er stared in disbelief. Huo Zhenye had already known back then—but they’d met three times since, and he never let anything slip.

Huo Zhenye saw through him and smiled faintly. “The evidence wasn’t complete yet. I was afraid you’d run.”

When the patrolmen came to take Liu Er’s fingerprints and footprints for comparison, he didn’t resist.

Huo Zhenye asked him, “You mimicked the killer’s method to cover for your Senior Brother, didn’t you?”

Liu Er stared at the table, silent.

“But he doesn’t deserve it.”

Liu Er looked up. Though he said nothing, his gaze held firm rebuttal—Senior Brotherp had already said it: the three of them were going to live a good life from now on.

Huo Zhenye pulled out a silver cigarette case, tapped out a cigarette, and held it in his hand without lighting it. “Your Master left your Senior Sister a dowry.”

Liu Er’s eyes flickered in shock. He hadn’t expected Huo Zhenye to have dug up even that. Their Master had entrusted it to Senior Sister on his deathbed.

Huo Zhenye held the cigarette between his fingers, pulled out a document folder, and showed him a pair of diamond earrings.

“These were the ones Liu Da gave to Jin Dangui. We checked—he traded a string of jadeite beads to an Indonesian merchant for them.”

That string of jadeite beads… the merchant had refused to provide them as evidence, so Huo Zhenye had bought them outright and laid them out for Liu Er to see.

Each bead gleamed a vibrant green, the quality excellent, and at the end dangled a gold-edged jade butterfly.

Liu Da had traded this necklace for a pair of diamond earrings. What a losing bargain.

Liu Er of course recognized this necklace—it was his Senior Sister’s favorite piece from the box.

She had never intended to keep it as private dowry. She said she wanted to sell those things, so with some money in hand, she could either invest in property or start a small business and finally settle down to a stable life.

Liu Er remembered clearly the look on her face as she stroked this necklace. He had even said back then that she’d look beautiful wearing it at her wedding. He never imagined that his brother would trade it for earrings to give Jin Dangui.

“You’re lying!” Liu Er shouted in protest—but deep down, he already believed it.

“He even planned to take Jin Dangui and leave Shanghai. The tickets are already bought—only two of them.” Huo Zhenye theatrically pulled two train tickets from the folder, rubbed them at the edges until they came apart, and showed them to Liu Er—sure enough, there were two.

Then he casually added, “On the twentieth of this month.”

It felt like a punch straight to Liu Er’s chest. He went rigid. The twentieth was their Master’s hundredth-day memorial. His brother wasn’t even going to bow at the altar—he was just going to leave.

The earring and necklace part was true. The tickets were fake. But Huo Zhenye had produced “evidence” from that folder one item at a time, and by now Liu Er was completely convinced.

“He’s worth taking a murder charge for?”

With that, Huo Zhenye left the interrogation room.

Fingerprint and footprint comparison confirmed that Liu Er was the one who left prints on the roof of Su Manli’s house. Coupled with his own confession, the case was solved.

Da Tou was full of admiration. “Young Master Huo, you’re incredible. How did you even suspect Liu Er? Now our precinct is going to be famous!”

Chief Song was practically glowing. This case had shaken the entire Shanghai, and his men had caught the real killer in a week. Jin Dangui’s seven-day memorial hadn’t even passed.

In front of the British, it was a major victory.

“I’ll report all your merits to the higher-ups. There’s a celebration tonight, my treat.”

As the room buzzed with excitement, Huo Zhenye spoke up, “There’s still no solid evidence that Liu Er was the one who killed Jin Dangui.”

Chief Song glanced at him. No one had contributed more to this case than Huo Zhenye. He’d already called Nanjing to praise the young master’s sharp mind.

Brilliant when solving the case—yet still oddly sentimental about certain things.

“What more evidence do you need? Both murders were done by Liu Er.” With that, Chief Song declared the case closed.

Thus ended the Courtesan Queen Selection’s murders.

Da Tou looked a little puzzled. “Young Master Huo, if it wasn’t him, who else could it be?”

The room celebrated, but Huo Zhenye found no joy in it. He wanted to see Bai Zhun.

—-

Bai Zhun slept until the afternoon. He’d eaten yogurt and tofu-skin buns in the morning, so he wasn’t hungry, just bored.

He moved “Mu Guiying” and “Yue Fei” back into the courtyard.

Sitting on the steps under the eaves, he watched the two paper figures spar with silver spears. Normally, he found this kind of thing soothing, a good way to pass time—but today, the quietness of the little house felt suffocating.

The more he looked, the duller it seemed. With a wave of his hand, the two paper figures stopped instantly.

Ah Xiu came over carrying a paper vase, placing it in front of Bai Zhun. She pointed at the flowers, then shook her head.

The paper flowers in this house never withered, not even after years—they always looked as fresh and vibrant as the day they were made. But this bouquet had only been here half a day, and it was already wilting.

The red petals curled slightly. Ah Xiu didn’t understand why. All she could do was carry the vase to Bai Zhun.

“They’re drying to death,” Bai Zhun muttered. He thought for a moment—there was only the small vase on the shrine at home, nothing big enough for a bunch like this.

Ah Xiu tilted her head, confused. She didn’t understand what “death” meant. Paper and bamboo didn’t rot, so to her, it should still be “alive.” She looked down at the bouquet, distressed.

Bai Zhun snorted, “Troublemaker. All you ever do is cause me trouble.” How could he even begin to explain life and death to a paper person?

And just as he said “trouble,” trouble arrived.

Three knocks on the door—three long, two short.

Bai Zhun rolled his eyes. Does he even knock in rhythm?

Before Bai Zhun could say anything, Ah Xiu rushed off to open the door for Huo Zhenye. As soon as she saw him, she held out the vase, gesturing for him to save the flowers.

Huo Zhenye had always thought Ah Xiu was mute. Seeing that she didn’t even know flowers needed water, he figured her mind must still be that of a child. He gently reassured her, “It’s okay. I’ll take them back and save them. I’ll bring them back to you tomorrow.”

Ah Xiu nodded, clearly pleased.

Huo Zhenye set a food box on the table. “I brought you braised baby fish fins.”

“What’s so good about that? Either too tough or too mushy. I’m not eating it.”

“Not that kind.” Huo Zhenye pulled out a porcelain bowl.

The Huizhou-style restaurant served braised fish tail, but no matter how tender the meat from a grass carp tail was, it couldn’t compare to real fish fins. This dish was made from the fins themselves—rich in sauce, delicate in texture.

“Playboy,” Bai Zhun muttered, secretly satisfied, but still had to poke fun at him.

He picked up a piece with his chopsticks. As he ate, Huo Zhenye just sat there watching.

This kind of dish was best with rice. Freshly steamed rice soaked in the fish sauce—Bai Zhun ended up eating nearly half a bowl. He hadn’t felt this content in a long time, and the more he ate, the more his satisfaction showed in his eyes and the curve of his brows.

Huo Zhenye rested an arm on the table. Even when eating, Bai Zhun seemed to be acting as if he were stooping to do so, picking at the grains of rice with his chopsticks as if they were unfit to eat.

Huo Zhenye just watched and smiled. When Bai Zhun glanced over, he quickly held it in, changing the subject. “What about that gramophone? Why aren’t you using it?”

Bai Zhun didn’t know how to use it—but he would never admit that.

Huo Zhenye understood immediately. He forced himself to keep a straight face, worried that if he laughed again, he’d get thrown out of the Bai residence a third time. He rolled up his sleeves and went to fetch the gramophone.

He pulled out two records, holding them up. “Which one do you want to hear? ‘The Goddess’s Accusation at the Temple (打神告庙)’ or ‘The Tale of the Black Basin (乌盆记)’?”

Both operas were about vengeful ghosts seeking justice after death.

Bai Zhun shot him a sideways glance. Huo Zhenye was clearly comparing him to the King of Hell or Judge Bao, trying to test him.

He snorted with a grin. “I’m not nearly that capable.”

Huo Zhenye did all of this because he wanted something in return.

Even after being brushed off, Huo Zhenye still treated Bai Zhun like a treasure: “Then let’s play The Goddess’s Accusation at the Temple.”

He placed the record into the phonograph, lifted the needle, and, with his back to Bai Zhun, said, “Liu Er confessed.”

But Liu Er wasn’t the one who killed Jin Dangui. Huo Zhenye gently set the needle on the spinning record, then turned to Bai Zhun. “What exactly was the anesthetic in the wine? How could it leave no trace at all?”

Drugs like that weren’t easy to get. Huo Zhenye had searched every Western hospital Han Zhu could’ve had access to, but none had any record of her purchasing such substances.

The record began to play—Jiao Guiying crying her grievances to the Sea God Temple. Bai Zhun closed his eyes and listened to a few lines before slowly saying, “The flowers in her yard are blooming well.”

Huo Zhenye didn’t understand why he suddenly brought up flowers again. Is he thinking of planting some in the courtyard?

“What kind of flowers do you like? I can bring you a few pots tomorrow. Or I can build a trellis—plant some wisteria? It’ll be beautiful when it blooms in spring.”

Bai Zhun grew annoyed. He’s just given the man a hint, and this idiot still doesn’t get it? He shut his eyes and ignored him.

After a while, he heard Huo Zhenye hurry out the door. Only then did Bai Zhun open his eyes, slightly troubled—How is he supposed to repay the favor owed to Master Han now?

It was the third time Huo Zhenye had come to the Han family courtyard. Han Zhu was gathering laundry. A bamboo rack stood in the yard—this kind of weather only needed half a day to dry clothes.

As she worked, she occasionally glanced toward the gate. Little Liu had gone out to run a street stall—he should be back by now.

When she saw Huo Zhenye, she didn’t move, but Liu Da began whimpering. He hadn’t eaten or drunk anything all day and had been left out in the sun—he was on the verge of collapse.

He sat slumped at the base of the wall in a bamboo wheelchair, which Liu Er had made for him.

Huo Zhenye’s expression darkened when he saw the chair. He didn’t want to see anyone else sitting in the same kind of chair as Bai Zhun.

Han Zhu smiled. “He’s just a cripple—how could he ever compare to Seventh Master?”

“Liu Er killed Su Manli.”

Han Zhu’s hands tensed. She had known, ever since the day Liu Er brought Liu Da back home.

“But who killed Jin Dangui?” Huo Zhenye stepped forward and said bluntly, “I investigated you. But you’re cunning. The Ritz Hotel is too crowded, too messy—no useful fingerprints to collect. I also looked into hospitals and pharmacies—no evidence of you purchasing any drugs.”

Liu Da froze, eyes wide and chest heaving, staring straight at Han Zhu.

She shook out a piece of clothing and folded it over her arm. “I don’t understand a word of what you’re saying, Master Huo.”

“Zuixin Flower, also called datura ^[1] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Datura . Harvested during its moon-blooming period, shade-dried and ground into powder, mixed into alcohol—it leaves one dizzy and dazed. According to Bencao ^[2] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bencao_Gangmu records, even cuts wouldn’t hurt after ingesting it.” If too much is used, the result is someone like Liu Da.

Under the flower trellis, strips of bamboo were still being dried. Han Zhu followed Huo Zhenye’s gaze. “You’re joking, Master Huo. I don’t know anything about that Bencao. That’s just a folk remedy my father used for joint and bone pain. Lots of people use it.”

“He used it when he was alive. Why are you drying it now?”

“It’ll be his hundred-day memorial soon. This is part of my filial piety. I’ll burn it for him when the time comes.”

The two stood across the flower rack, locking eyes.

Han Zhu gave nothing away. Based on just dried bamboo strips and flowers, there wasn’t enough to name her as the killer.

Liu Da trembled all over, trying his best to make a sound, but all he could produce were garbled “oh-oh” noises.

But Huo Zhenye hadn’t come to arrest Han Zhu—he only wanted to know who the real murderer was. He pulled something from his pocket and handed it to Han Zhu. “This is yours.”

A jade butterfly slipped from his palm, its golden wings shimmering.

Han Zhu shook her head. “Since Master Huo bought it, it’s yours now. I only want… to see Little Liu.”

“You can. I’ll arrange it.”

Then he left the courtyard, leaving only Han Zhu and Liu Da behind.

Liu Da stared at the door, still holding out hope that Huo Zhenye would come back and take Han Zhu away.

Han Zhu remained by the clothes rack, a long, quiet stretch of shadow cast behind her by the setting sun.

Suddenly, she turned lightly on her feet, facing Liu Da with a faint smile.

A chill rippled through Liu Da’s heart, coldness seeping into his bones. He suddenly realized—his little brother wasn’t coming back, and his senior sister was done pretending.