Chapter 3

Hearing all this, Li Jin was clearly astonished. Since taking charge of the Six Gates Bureau, he’d come to expect that every coroner under his command could accurately determine time of death. But to deduce a victim’s identity from bodily details—and even infer the nature of the crime—only about thirty percent could manage that.

And among those, the ability to reverse-engineer the perpetrator’s profile from mere traces? That was something only the most senior, white-haired coroners could do. Yet the person before him had just done exactly that.

To say he wasn’t impressed would be a lie.

Still, Li Jin was a man who rarely showed emotion. He maintained his usual faint smile as he slowly picked up the scalpel Jin Shu had just used, examining it with deliberate care.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

Jin Shu snapped out of her trance. Oh no. She’d been too focused, said too much. Had she just drawn the attention of this “idle prince”?

She hesitated, lips pressed into a thin line, and reluctantly bowed. “This humble one is Jin Shu.”

Li Jin nodded and set down the blade. Unexpectedly, he pulled Zhou Zheng to his side and had him turn around, hands clasped behind his back. “In your opinion, when the killer bound her hands and feet with hemp rope, was it like this?”

Zhou Zheng stood with wrists crossed behind him. Li Jin casually took a strap and tied Zhou Zheng’s hands, forming a knot.

“Look closely. Was it like this?”

Seeing that he was genuinely investigating the case, Jin Shu’s furrowed brow relaxed. She crouched and examined Zhou Zheng’s elbows.

“No, it wasn’t like that.” She stood and pointed to the marks on the girl’s wrists. “The way Your Highness tied the hands leaves one wrist with marks on the outside and the other on the inside. But look—this girl’s left wrist has marks on the outside, and so does the right. There are no marks on the inner sides.”

She raised her own hands, palms facing each other, wrists touching. “So… it should’ve been like this.”

Li Jin narrowed his eyes at her pale, slender wrists. He untied the strap from Zhou Zheng and, without warning, wrapped it around Jin Shu’s wrists, binding them tightly.

“Like this?” Though his face wore a smile, his eyes were icy.

While tying her hands, he had deliberately examined her bone structure. Her wrists were delicate, joints barely defined, bones soft and narrow. And where an Adam’s apple should have been, there was none.

Everything now made sense.

This “Master Jin,” whom Liu Cheng’an had kept hidden for years, refusing every request from other magistrates to borrow her expertise, always dressed in oversized coroner’s robes, taciturn and shrouded in gloom…

There was only one logical conclusion: Master Jin was a woman.

But Jin Shu’s attention was entirely on the rope technique. She examined the binding from every angle, comparing it to the marks on the corpse, mentally running through the possibilities before finally nodding.

“Yes, that seems right.” She paused. “Though the rope used by the killer was much thicker than this one.”

Just then, Liu Cheng’an returned with the postmortem report. In his haste, he glanced inside the room and immediately turned away to vomit.

Li Jin raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He strode over, took the report from Liu Cheng’an’s trembling hands, and flipped through a few pages.

“Lord Liu, you’re quite bold,” he remarked coolly.

The words sent chills down Liu Cheng’an’s spine. His face paled further as he wondered if Jin Shu’s secret had been exposed.

But Li Jin, as if toying with him, suddenly changed tone and smiled. “To have such a talented officer and keep her hidden—do you know how many complaints I hear about this every year?”

So it wasn’t about her identity. Liu Cheng’an exhaled in relief, wiped his mouth, and put on a face that blended grievance with forced cheer.

“That’s not my fault, Your Highness. Master Jin has a younger brother, just turned six, and not yet in school. Even if I allowed her to assist other prefectures, she wouldn’t go—family obligations.”

Li Jin’s expression remained neutral, but he took note. A younger brother. If he wanted to recruit her into the Six Gates Bureau, he’d need leverage. And now he had it.

The more he thought about it, the deeper his smile grew. He turned to Jin Shu, who stood at the doorway. “Master Jin, do you have time in the coming days?”

Jin Shu froze. Forget the brother waiting at home for dinner—who would willingly work alongside this prince? Every minute near him increased the risk of exposure.

She was about to decline when Liu Cheng’an jumped in. “Don’t worry about Jin Rong. I’ll bring him to my residence later. For the next few days, just follow His Highness’s orders until the case is resolved.”

His voice was firm, his face full of desperation. He might as well have had a flashing sign above his head reading: “My official hat depends on you.”

Jin Shu frowned at the two men, then raised her bound hands and asked softly, “Could you untie this first?”

The rope Li Jin had tied was still snug around her wrists. Like fate itself, their paths—once parallel—had now crossed because of a single case.

As dusk fell, a lavender veil draped over Dingzhou’s sky. One side burned crimson, the other deep indigo. Between them, the city’s bustling night market glowed under the gradient.

Zhou Zheng walked ahead, expression blank, hand on his sword. Jin Shu followed behind Li Jin, staring at the rope around her wrists. Both had been bound. Yet the man beside her had freed himself with ease, while she had struggled, gnawed, and twisted—without loosening it at all.

“Master Jin, do you want the rope untied?” Li Jin stopped at the edge of the market, smiling knowingly.

Seeing his relaxed demeanor, Jin Shu took a deep breath and repeated to herself, “He’s Prince Jing. Don’t provoke him.” Then she forced a smile and held out her hands. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

But Li Jin’s smile deepened. He glanced at the knot, suppressed a chuckle, and said, “If Master Jin treats me to fish, I’ll untie it. Deal?”

All that—for a meal?

Jin Shu looked up, pointed with her chin at a large restaurant ahead. “Anywhere but that one, Your Highness may choose freely.”

Li Jin nodded with mock solemnity. “Then that one it is.”