Chapter 2

Liu Cheng’an was truly afraid. First, he feared failing to solve the case, letting down the people, and living with a guilty conscience. As for being held accountable by superiors—that was the lesser concern. Second, it was because of the person beside him—“Master Jin.”

The fact that Jin Shu was a woman was a colossal secret within the Dingzhou magistrate’s office. Only Liu Cheng’an’s wife and a few trusted aides knew.

Six years ago, Jin Shu’s parents died unexpectedly, leaving her—just fifteen at the time—to raise her newborn baby brother alone.

Liu Cheng’an had been close friends with her father. Moved by compassion and grief for a talent cut short, he took pity on the orphaned siblings. Initially, he intended for Jin Shu to serve as a maid to his daughter. But to his surprise, she turned out to be gifted in corpse whispering. Within two days of entering his household, she helped crack a difficult case.

From then on, Liu Cheng’an, who had always cherished talent, felt it would be a waste to keep her as a maid. But in over two hundred years of Great Wei history, no woman had ever held an official post.

After much deliberation, Liu Cheng’an couldn’t resist her extraordinary abilities. He concealed her gender and registered her as a coroner in the county office. It was meant as a kindness. Yet if a woman entered officialdom, it could be construed as deceiving the emperor—a crime punishable by extermination of one’s entire clan.

If Prince Jing discovered Jin Shu’s true identity now, not only would she be in grave danger, but Liu Cheng’an himself might not escape unscathed.

At the thought, cold sweat soaked through his back. He stepped forward, deliberately shielding Jin Shu behind him, bowed deeply, and said, “Your humble servant greets His Highness Prince Jing.”

Jin Shu froze, her face pale. She quickly followed suit and bowed. Wasn’t he supposed to arrive in two days?

She frowned, staring at the stone tiles beneath her feet, head lowered, afraid the prince might glimpse her face.

“Lord Liu, no need for such formality. I’m traveling incognito—no need for ceremony,” Prince Jing said, tilting his head slightly. His gaze bypassed Liu Cheng’an and landed directly on Jin Shu, dressed in black, her sleeves tied, bloodstained straps still visible.

“I heard a woman’s corpse was pulled from the well in Peach Blossom Valley this morning. Looks like you’ve already examined it?” Li Jin asked, noting Liu Cheng’an’s momentary discomfort.

It was now late afternoon, the sun slanting westward. Liu Cheng’an braced himself, glanced at Jin Shu, and replied, “Yes, Your Highness. I was just about to pass the findings to the constables. We should soon have clues to her identity.”

The exchange between the two seemed oddly evasive, as if they were hiding something. Li Jin chuckled softly and stepped forward. “No rush. Let’s go take a look together.”

He stopped beside Jin Shu, scanning the skinny “man” from head to toe. The coroner’s black robe hung loosely on her frame.

Li Jin raised one brow. He recalled the confidential report from Dingzhou about a corpse whisperer rivaling the capital’s best—rumored to be taciturn, frail, and shrouded in gloom.

Seeing her now, she lacked any masculine vigor. Short and slight, she resembled a bullied bean sprout.

“Lord Liu, lead the way,” said Zhou Zheng, stepping forward and blocking both Liu Cheng’an and Jin Shu with a look that said, “No one’s leaving.”

Zhou Zheng knew his prince hadn’t come to Dingzhou just for sightseeing.

Aside from gathering intel on the late crown princess, he’d come specifically to see this mysterious corpse whisperer—hidden away by the Dingzhou office, never loaned out, yet somehow famous even in distant Chang’an. What kind of talent could earn such renown?

In the magistrate’s rear hall, the corpse hadn’t yet been sent to the burial office. Liu Cheng’an, suppressing his nausea, stepped over the threshold.

Li Jin took two binding straps from Zhou Zheng and swiftly tied up his wide sleeves. He glanced at Liu Cheng’an’s pale face and asked, “Is the postmortem report written?”

Liu Cheng’an looked relieved. “Yes, yes! I’ll fetch it right away!” He fled before finishing the sentence.

Watching him go, Jin Shu’s scalp prickled. She feared her secret would be exposed. When she looked up, she met Li Jin’s scrutinizing gaze. She forced a smile. “Lord Liu faints at the sight of blood. He can’t handle scenes like this.”

Her voice was hoarse, like a child whose voice hadn’t yet changed.

Li Jin grew more suspicious. This bean sprout looked malnourished, timid, and weaker than a teenage constable. Could such a person truly commune with the dead?

He narrowed his eyes and lifted the burlap covering the corpse. The girl’s face was unrecognizable. He frowned. “You’re not afraid?”

Jin Shu sensed the challenge in his tone. She looked at him, then pointed to the body. “I performed the autopsy. Why would I be afraid?”

Truth be told, even Zhou Zheng—who had followed Prince Jing through life-and-death battles—felt his stomach churn at the sight.

But the bean sprout remained calm. She walked to the display shelf, retrieved several flat boxes, and laid them out.

“Your Highness, if further examination is needed, I’ll handle it.” She lit an oil lamp, donned gloves and a face cloth, and stood beside the corpse. Her demeanor transformed—no longer frail, but sharp-eyed and professional.

Li Jin lowered his gaze, pondering. “Start from the beginning. I’d like to hear your analysis.” He studied her profile, testing the depth of this bean sprout’s waters.

“The deceased is female, around twenty years old. She was beaten, bound, and drowned in a well.” Jin Shu retrieved a scalpel and began cutting as she spoke. “Moss in the mouth and throat. Fluid in the lungs. Clouded corneas. Skin sloughing off. Estimated time of death: four to five days.”

Li Jin and Zhou Zheng exchanged glances. She truly knew corpse whispering. No wonder Liu Cheng’an kept her hidden.

But Jin Shu didn’t stop there. “She ate coarse gruel before death. Malnourished. Intestinal residue confirms a poor diet. Signs of venereal disease. Traces of makeup are still visible. Likely a courtesan—robbery or sexual assault are both possible motives.”

She paused, then pointed to the wrist marks. “The bindings were made with cheap hemp rope. After days in water, the rope was gone, but the marks remain. Width: about one finger. Rare three-strand weave—uncommon, possibly used in specialized trades. Rope wasn’t very strong, so the crime may have involved multiple perpetrators.”

“She also had a crescent-shaped birthmark on her back. I’ve already made a rubbing for Lord Liu to help identify her.”

With that, Jin Shu heated the scalpel over the lamp, wiped it clean, and returned it to the box. “Does Your Highness have any further questions?”