Chapter 16

Last night, Li Jin was subjected to a trap banquet orchestrated by the foolish official Yang An. There were songs and dances, musical performances, fireworks—nothing was left out. The lead performer was dressed in lavish finery, while the others wore plain garments, like stars encircling the moon.

Yang An’s intentions couldn’t have been more obvious. But Li Jin wasn’t raised on vegetables alone—he wasn’t so easily seduced. The attempt to lure him into intimacy failed. So Yang An switched tactics: the woman who served him tea while he read, who added incense to the burner, lit the lamps, and laid out his bed—was all her.

Who could sleep under such circumstances?

And then, in the dead of night, seeing Li Jin unmoved like a stone, Yang An had his daughter climb onto the roof and attempt a dramatic descent using a length of silk.

Had Li Jin not stayed awake, anticipating further schemes, the girl might’ve been mistaken for an assassin by Zhou Zheng and turned into a pincushion.

If not absolutely necessary, who would choose to sleep in Jin Shu’s quarters? Though she disguised herself as a man, she was, at heart, still a woman.

Thinking of this, Li Jin felt fortunate that her disguise was convincing. Otherwise, if word got out, tonight’s trouble would be immense. Yet for some reason, watching her whispering with Zhou Zheng irritated him.

He was the one who brought her out of Dingzhou. If anyone deserved her gratitude and closeness, it should’ve been him. So why did she and Zhou Zheng look like old pals?

At that moment, Zhou Zheng was equally baffled. It wasn’t romantic interest—it was admiration. He respected anyone who could assist the prince.

But seeing Li Jin’s persistent expression, Zhou Zheng pressed his lips together and cupped his hands: “Your subordinate has something to say. If it offends Your Highness, I beg your forgiveness.”

At the courtyard gate, a camellia bloomed in full glory. Dressed in white fur, Li Jin turned and glanced behind him. Seeing Jin Shu had returned indoors, he replied leisurely, “Speak.”

Zhou Zheng took a deep breath and said earnestly: “Your Highness, two men sharing a bed—if not properly explained, I fear Master Jin may be left with psychological scars. Lord Liu once mentioned Master Jin has obsessive tendencies and strongly dislikes sharing living space. Your Highness has only just secured such a talent; he should be carefully protected and won over.”

The two stood in stark contrast—black and white—on a stone-paved path, flanked by white walls and gray tiles. Birdsong filled the air, petals drifted before them, blue skies and white clouds above, bathed in golden morning light.

After a long pause, Li Jin raised one brow, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He said nothing—because he had nothing to say.

He conceded.

By midday, with the sun high, Jin Shu stood at the entrance of the crime scene courtyard, staring at the broken door, pondering the clues from the day before.

The main gate faced directly toward the pit where the body was buried. Had this not been an abandoned courtyard, the corpse—half a leg and half a foot exposed—would’ve been discovered long ago.

Realization dawned on her. She exclaimed, “So that’s it!”

“You’ve noticed too,” Li Jin stepped forward, his expression grim, devoid of any smile. Behind him, the blind man—his face disfigured by Yang An’s beating—dragged his feet, the sound of shackles startling the sparrows into flight.

Li Jin glanced back, exhaling angrily through his nose, and strode ahead. Jin Shu followed obediently, carrying the report she’d written the night before, entering the courtyard with him.

The identity of the killer had been clear from the start.

It was a typical rural courtyard: one gated fence, three surrounding rooms, and a small central yard. The pit—where radishes had once grown—lay almost dead center. After the constables dug it up, it was about thirty centimeters deep, with remnants of radishes and cabbage still visible. Only the blind man would choose such an exposed burial spot. Only he would fail to bury half a leg and foot properly.

Jin Shu walked half a circle around the small yard and found a stone embedded in the ground, half-rounded and still stained with blood. Aside from that, the courtyard bore no other traces—weathered clean by sun and wind.

“I have a few questions. Answer truthfully,” Li Jin stood by the pit, his gaze settling on Jin Shu. The blind man knelt before him, held down by two constables.

“Which room do you usually live in?” Li Jin turned to the blind man, who hesitated before pointing toward Jin Shu’s direction. “That one.”

“Are you sure?”

“Sure. I may be blind, but my sense of direction is excellent,” he chuckled.

When Jin Shu turned to look, Zhou Zheng had already unlocked the door. A foul stench burst forth, making her wrinkle her nose.

All the belongings were strewn across the floor. Only one window faced the courtyard, letting in a sliver of sunlight.

Just as she was about to enter, Li Jin called out, “Wait.” He stepped forward, tightened his sleeves, then crouched at the doorway, tilting his head to inspect the floor under the dim light.

As expected, the blind man hadn’t cleaned. Though some signs of struggle had been disturbed, most remained. Handprints in the corners, bloody claw marks on the walls, overlapping chaotic footprints—all pointed to a violent fight.

Li Jin stood and asked, “How many times did you fight him here?”

The blind man froze, then shook his head: “Never! I didn’t kill him! I never fought him! I’m blind—how could I fight? It was the cripple next door who hired someone to kill him!”

“The victim often stole money from your bowl and beat you. Is that true?” Li Jin narrowed his eyes and signaled Jin Shu to enter.

The blind man clenched his clothes, sweat beading on his forehead, and finally nodded: “Yes, that’s true.”

Li Jin spoke calmly from the doorway: “That day, you had a fierce argument with the victim. He often stole from you and beat you, so you harbored murderous intent.”

He watched the blind man’s expression shift from shock to fear.

“You fought all the way into the courtyard. He slipped and hit his head on a stone. Seizing the moment, you took a rope, strangled him, and pinned him down until he died.”

With a sharp flick, Li Jin opened his fan. The sudden sound made the blind man tremble.

Li Jin said nothing more, just stood there fanning himself, looking down at the man.

The blind man’s face turned pale from guilt, then twisted with fear.

Within minutes, Jin Shu emerged from the room holding a rope—its length and thickness just right—with bloodstains at the center. In her other hand, she held a pair of old, filthy pants. The waistband also bore bloodstains. She laid both items side by side before Li Jin. Under the sunlight, the blood marks aligned perfectly.