Chapter 15

Hearing the question, Jin Shu looked helpless. “It’s my first time too. I’ll try not to mess up.”

“What?” Yang An’s breathing grew rapid.

“Based on the corpse’s features, the killer likely used a thin, strong rope like this, wrapping it from behind around the victim’s neck, with the crossing point here.” Jin Shu turned slightly to show Li Jin. “The victim’s fingertips and the area around the jawbone show abrasions and scabbing. The wounds are concentrated near the fingertips, with fine scratches and traces of soil—likely caused by friction against uneven ground. Like this.”

She spread her left hand and mimed a clawing motion.

“So the killer probably struggled with the victim. They both fell to the ground. The victim’s head hit a protrusion. The killer seized the moment to wrap the rope around the neck. Then, with the victim face down, the killer—positioned behind—pulled the rope with lethal force.”

As she spoke, her arms instinctively applied more pressure. That slight increase in force pushed Yang An’s already frayed nerves past the edge. His face turned pale, and sweat beaded on his forehead.

Jin Shu didn’t notice and continued: “The victim struggled on the ground, scraping his fingers and jaw. The killer never let go. The force was enough to fracture the hyoid bone. The process lasted long enough that even after decomposition, the leather-like marks are still visible.”

In the dimly lit room, four people stood under two flickering lamps.

Li Jin, deep in thought, raised his hand and gestured toward the breathless Yang An. “Master Jin, you may let go now.”

Jin Shu froze, realizing that Yang An was clawing at the rope around his neck. She quickly released both ends and raised her hands in alarm.

Oh no—she’d gotten too caught up and accidentally used real force.

Yang An bent over, pinching his nose, visibly distressed. He wanted to breathe, but the stench of the twenty-day-old corpse filled the room. Breathing meant gagging. Not breathing meant suffocating. So he pinched his nose and breathed shallowly.

“Magistrate Yang, now that the autopsy is done, you should rest.” Li Jin glanced at Jin Shu, offering a reassuring smile. “Master Jin, please prepare the report for tomorrow’s review.” He reached out, removed the ropes from Yang An’s neck, and handed them to Zhou Zheng.

“My rope seems to have taken a liking to Magistrate Yang’s neck,” he joked, helping the hunched-over Yang An to stand and patting his shoulder.

“You’ve worked hard, Magistrate. Your hands-on involvement has earned my respect.” His tone was sincere, flawless.

Yang An had been fuming moments earlier, thinking this lowly coroner was overstepping thanks to Li Jin’s favor. He’d planned to put her in her place.

But Li Jin’s sudden praise extinguished his fire completely. He laughed heartily and quickly flattered himself. “Your Highness flatters me. As Linyang’s magistrate, I must serve the people with all my strength. In a case this serious, personal involvement is essential to grasp its complexity.”

Then he turned to Jin Shu, still holding her hands in the air, and praised her too. “Master Jin’s insight is truly remarkable! Ha ha ha!”

After the two men left, exchanging compliments and pleasantries, Jin Shu finally lowered her hands and exhaled deeply. That night, she watched Jin Rong sleeping soundly and placed the tiger lantern on the cabinet beside his bed.

Though she called herself his sister, they shared no blood. For six years, Jin Shu had played both mother and father, raising him with care.

Years ago, Dingzhou saw its only snowfall in her memory—one that stopped her from leaving home. That night, the snow fell heavier and heavier, like threads of fate guiding a ragged woman to Jin Shu’s doorstep. She knocked weakly, waking Jin Shu from sleep.

Their meeting felt destined. Had it been a day later, they might never have crossed paths. Now, the sleeping boy was fate’s gift to her. She had thought that in this new life, even with memories of her past, she had lost all family. In this vast land, she was a rootless wanderer. But holding that newborn, hearing his cries, seeing his desperate will to live—she felt panic, fear, and a fierce urge to protect.

Six years passed in a blink. The child was now old enough to read and write. Jin Shu looked at his face, gently brushed his hair, and smiled warmly.

Outside, music and dancing echoed faintly. Fireworks bloomed in the sky, casting a golden glow on her serene, radiant face.

That night, she gave up her bed to Jin Rong and curled up on the long bench, sleeping deeply and peacefully.

At sunrise, she stretched, rubbed her eyes, poured a cup of water, and turned to wake Jin Rong—only to freeze for half a minute.

There, sleeping fully clothed in Jin Rong’s bed, was Prince Jing, Li Jin. What was going on?

She scrambled to dress, stood by the table, and, after some thought, decided to find Zhou Zheng. She had no idea what to do next—but Zhou Zheng surely would.

In the morning light, Jin Shu quietly closed the door and turned to leave, only to find Zhou Zheng already watching her from beside a red pillar.

“Lord Zhou,” she called, eyes wide, pointing toward the room. “Why is His Highness sleeping in a servant’s quarters?”

Zhou Zheng looked troubled, unsure whether to speak.

Seeing his silence, Jin Shu scratched her head, brows furrowed. “So… what now?”

In the awkward silence, a familiar voice cut through the air, cold and sharp: “So noisy.”

Li Jin stepped over the threshold, his gaze piercing as it landed on Jin Shu.

Dark circles under his eyes, a weary face, and a foul mood—he clearly hadn’t slept well. He shut the door behind him, turned, and growled, “Once this case is over, I’m going to deal with Yang An.”

He stormed off without further explanation.

Only Zhou Zheng lingered, leaning slightly toward Jin Shu and whispering, “Last night, Yang An tried to send his daughter in under the guise of a performance.” His expression was grim.

Jin Shu’s jaw dropped in shock.

Zhou Zheng pointed upward. “She fell from the roof. That kind of ‘performance.’”

Then he hurried after Li Jin.

At the courtyard gate, Li Jin suddenly stopped, glanced back at Zhou Zheng, and asked, “…You’re quite fond of Master Jin, aren’t you?”