Chapter 4

In the main house, Lu Shanrou vaguely heard crying and shouting from the direction of the front gate. The sound was so piercing that even the heavy rain couldn’t drown it out.

Could it be… Lu Shanrou’s mind was flooded with at least a thousand thoughts. She stuffed all her manuscripts into the hidden compartment of the bookshelf as a group of raincoat-clad men burst in.

At that moment, Wutong Jushi’s personal seal was still on the desk. There was no time to spare, so she shoved the seal into the iron filled with charcoal.

The raincoat-clad men swarmed in and, without giving her a chance to question or defend herself, pulled a large burlap sack over her head, stuffed her inside, tied her up, and carried her away.

All of this happened in less than the time it takes to drink a cup of tea. The pouring rain washed away the bloodstains and footprints.

So, when Wei Cuicheng returned home carrying a food box packed to the brim, he found the house door wide open, the lanterns in the main house still lit, but everyone had mysteriously disappeared.

Most importantly, the salvaged drafts he had painstakingly rescued were nowhere to be found!

What is going on?

Wei Cuicheng felt dazed for a moment as if he had just woken up from a long, absurd, and bizarre dream. Facing a sudden upheaval was something he had experienced ten years ago—transforming from spirited and ambitious to withdrawn and reclusive, all in just one night.

The neighing of warhorses, arrows raining down like locusts, the blood splattered on his face. Past events rolled over him like a massive wheel. A decade had passed, yet the pain had not faded—it remained steadfast like a reef in the tide, unyielding no matter how the waves crashed.

Wei Cuicheng forced himself to set aside those memories, returning his mind to reality. He lit all the lamps in the main house, illuminating the room as bright as day, and inspected everything inch by inch. He quickly noticed some unusual details:

A partial muddy footprint on the door suggested someone had kicked it open. Lu Shanrou was a gentle and refined lady—she would never open the door so forcefully.

The floor was dirty, with numerous water stains and patches of mud.

The charcoal in the iron was still scorching hot. Hmm, it seemed as though something had been mixed in with it.

Wei Cuicheng took two brushes from the pen rack on the desk, holding them upright like chopsticks, and poked through the charcoal. Inside, there was a jade seal, already scorched black and red. On its base were four small characters inscribed in seal script: Wutong Jushi.

It was none other than Lu Shanrou’s personal seal. So everything had really happened—it wasn’t a dream. But where was Lu Shanrou? What about the bratty kid next door and the woman he had rescued from injustice?

Three living people couldn’t just vanish without a trace. Wei Cuicheng stepped outside to question the neighbors. Having cut off all social ties, he had lived here for nearly five years and didn’t even know his neighbors. But at this moment, he couldn’t care less. He knocked on the neighbor’s door to the left, knocking for a long time with no response. Why is no one home tonight? It’s so strange. Wei Cuicheng turned to the right neighbor instead. After three knocks on the door knocker, someone inside immediately responded, “Who’s there?”

Wei Cuicheng said, “I’m your neighbor—Wei Cuicheng, a Commander of the Jinyiwei. There’s something I’d like to ask you.”

Although Wei Cuicheng lived in seclusion, he understood social nuances well. He deliberately concealed that he was a Commander from the Elephant Training Division, instead presenting his Jinyiwei title to gain attention. As expected, hearing the name of a Jinyiwei Commander, the door opened. An elderly gatekeeper holding a lantern politely invited Wei Cuicheng into the front room of the house.

Wei Cuicheng then produced his waist token—a cloud-edged, octagonal emblem made of ivory, slightly aged and yellowed. Engraved vertically in the center were the words “Jinyiwei” and “Elephant Training Division,” with his name, “Wei Cuicheng,” carved horizontally below.

Using a bit of cunning, Wei Cuicheng covered the words “Elephant Training Division” with his finger and waved the token briefly in front of the gatekeeper. “About fifteen minutes ago, while I was out buying dinner, did you hear anything unusual during that time?”

The gatekeeper thought for a moment before replying, “I’ve been on duty here in the gatehouse the whole time. In this bad weather, aside from the wind, rain, and thunder, I didn’t hear anything unusual—just the sound of hooves at one point. They came quickly and left just as fast.”

Wei Cuicheng then asked, “What about the neighbors to the east? I knocked, but no one answered.”

The old gatekeeper said, “That’s the Shen family residence. Hanlin Scholar Shen was reassigned two years ago and has served as an official elsewhere. His family followed him, so the house has been empty with no one living there.”

No wonder no one answered the door.

The old gatekeeper’s cloudy eyes suddenly lit up with excitement. “Has something happened at the haunted house again? Don’t tell me it’s ghosts causing trouble! That place is notorious in the capital as the most famous haunted house—hardly anyone who has lived there met a good end. Commander, you should be careful!”

Wei Cuicheng picked up a few clues but only exchanged polite words before leaving. He thought to himself: A stormy night like this, with hardly anyone on the streets—the sound of hooves must have been a group of riders. Adding three living people to such an ostentatious scene, there must have been other traces left behind.

As the city curfew approached, the patrols from the Five City Guards—the Eastern, Southern, Western, Northern, and Central City Guards—began clearing the streets. Qianyu Alley in the Chengqing Neighborhood fell under the jurisdiction of the Central City Guards, so Wei Cuicheng spurred his horse to catch up with the patrolling Central City Guards.

Over the past ten years, Wei Cuicheng had regularly passed through the jurisdiction of the Central City Guards while escorting elephants between the two elephant houses for rotation. As a result, he had become somewhat familiar with the patrolling soldiers and didn’t need to reveal his full credentials. He stated his purpose directly: “About fifteen minutes ago, a group of more than ten riders headed toward Qianyu Alley in Chengqing Neighborhood. Did you see them?”

On the stormy night, the streets were desolate, making the thunderous sound of galloping horses all the more conspicuous. The soldiers of the Central City Guards said, “Yes, they passed by, heading south. Commander Wei, you might find them if you go that way.”

Wei Cuicheng headed south, asking around along the way, eventually tracking them to Chongwen Gate. By this time, the curfew had already begun. Passersby were being subjected to identity checks by the Central City Guards before being allowed to proceed. Wei Cuicheng presented his badge and questioned the gate guards.

The guards said, “Indeed, there was such a group. When we questioned them, they presented a name card from Grand Secretary Li. Who would dare stop them? They passed through the city gate and headed to the southern city. Commander Wei, you might want to ask the Southern City Guards for more information.”

The curfew only applied to commoners; it did not affect the privileged classes. In the Ming court, the most powerful department was the Cabinet, consisting of five Grand Secretaries, commonly referred to as “Grand Ministers.” Grand Minister Li was Li Dongyang, one of the five most influential figures in the court.

As a mere Commander of the Jinyiwei Elephant Training Division, Wei Cuicheng had no access to Grand Minister Li’s residence nor any evidence to justify barging in to search for someone.

Wei Cuicheng couldn’t fathom how the illustrious Grand Minister Li could be connected to a widowed fifth-ranked titled lady.

“I really shouldn’t meddle in other people’s affairs! Haven’t I already learned my lesson from the last time?”

The events of ten years ago came crashing back like a tide of overwhelming sorrow, drenching him in grief much like the stormy downpour now chilling his heart.

Wei Cuicheng began to hesitate: This isn’t my business. If I simply stay out of it, I won’t get entangled. I can go back home, close the door, lie on my bed, sleep soundly, and wake up tomorrow as if nothing happened. The sun will rise as usual, and everything will be normal.

After all, Lu Shanrou is a fifth-ranked titled lady and the orphan of Lu Qingtian. Grand Secretary Li has a decent reputation in court—surely he won’t harm her, right?

Wei Cuicheng silently tried to convince himself and turned his horse around, heading back. When he returned to the Lu residence, he immediately spotted the food box on the table—dinner he had bought earlier. Not wanting her to wait, he hadn’t eaten outside and had instead bought two portions to share with her.

Now, overcome by hunger, he opened the food box and laid out the meal: two bowls of Yangchun noodles, half a pound of braised beef, a roast chicken, stir-fried lotus root slices, lotus seed soup, and sautéed green beans.

The dishes had long gone cold, and the noodles had soaked up the broth, swelling and piling higher than the bowl’s rim. However, at this moment, he had no sense of taste. He was simply chewing and swallowing mechanically.

A flash of lightning turned the dark night into day for an instant. Wei Cuicheng seemed to catch a glimpse of someone hanging from the sycamore tree in the courtyard—the Sycamore Scholar Lu Shanrou.

This woman was like a pebble thrown into a stagnant pond, creating ripples in his lifeless ten-year existence. Should he continue living in this numbed state? What if it was all just a misunderstanding, and he could resolve it by stepping in as a mediator? Would it hurt to meddle a little in someone else’s affairs…?

Wei Cuicheng donned his rain gear once again and galloped away into the storm. In the world of officialdom, his withdrawn and reclusive nature and his refusal to engage in any interpersonal relationships ensured that no one dared to ostracize him during his ten years at the Elephant Training Office, holding onto his position securely. He had a strong backing—the chief of the Jinyiwei, Mou Bin, was his adoptive father.

Grand Secretary Li was one of the five major figures in the cabinet. However, since the Jinyiwei served as the emperor’s eyes and ears, Grand Secretary Li could not ignore the authority and favor of Chief Mou Bin.

Wei Cuicheng knew he could not contend with Grand Secretary Li alone. If things went wrong, it would be like throwing meat buns to a dog—gone without return. In a rush, Wei Cuicheng sought the backing of his connections.

Meanwhile, Tao Zhu, who had been knocked unconscious, slowly regained consciousness. She found herself lying on a pile of straw, with the landlord, Lu Shanrou, sitting beside her and wiping her face with a damp cloth.

“You’re awake?” Lu Shanrou handed the damp cloth to her. “Then you should use the rainwater from outside to clean yourself. Your head is injured, and your face and neck are covered in blood.”

Tao Zhu clutched her head and sat up, discovering that her head was tightly bandaged with layers of fabric. It didn’t hurt much, but she felt nauseous and wanted to vomit, though nothing came out. She could only retch dryly, her voice strained and hoarse.

“Despicable! Outrageous!” Tao Zhu rasped. She asked, “Right under the emperor’s nose, who dares to trespass into a civilian’s home? Who are these people? What do they want? Where is Miss Liu Xiu? And who tore my skirt? A bunch of hooligans!”

Tao Zhu was wearing a red top and a pale yellow pleated skirt. The skirt had two overlapping panels in the middle, ensuring modesty when walking or riding a horse. Now, only one panel remained, which exposed her legs as she walked. Fortunately, she was wearing pants underneath, preventing any indecency.

“To bandage your injured head, I tore a piece off the skirt panel of your mamian skirt,” said Lu Shanrou. “Don’t ask me—I know nothing. I was just sitting at home when a group of people threw me into a sack and tied me up. I’m more confused than you are, but it seems to be related to Liu Xiu. They dragged Liu Xiu away, and we were thrown into this woodshed.”

Lu Shanrou whispered, “When I climbed out of the sack, I saw that beneath their raincoats, they were wearing bright red square-collared tabards with front openings. That’s the attire of yamen servants. I suspect it’s some government officials who captured us. To barge into civilian homes in the capital and arrest people so openly, they must be high-ranking officials.”

Tao Zhu, who claimed to be from Shandong, had a demeanor reminiscent of the heroic figures from Water Margin. Even after being beaten black and blue, she remained defiant, channeling a hazy resemblance to Li Kui. She spat and cursed, “Who cares about some bird official? I, Tao the Hero, have never feared anyone! Once I get out, I’ll chop that bird official down, smash his bird seal, and tear apart his bird yamen!”

As soon as the words fell, the door opened, and Liu Xiu, unconscious, was thrown into the woodshed. Her hair was disheveled, and her fingers were swollen like carrots—likely the result of being subjected to the brutal finger-press torture, which had caused her to faint from the pain.

Using a cloth soaked in rainwater, Tao Zhu patted Liu Xiu’s face to wake her up. “Hey, wake up! Even if we die, we have to die knowing the truth.”

“Splashing cold water won’t wake her up,” said Lu Shanrou as she removed the plum blossom hairpin from her bun. Using the sharp end of the pin, she pressed it against the Fengchi acupoint on Liu Xiu’s head.

Liu Xiu’s eyes snapped open, and she instinctively let out a cry of pain. Lu Shanrou quickly covered her mouth and whispered, “Don’t make a sound. If the guards outside hear you’re awake, they’ll drag you out for another round of interrogation and torture. If you endure the finger-press punishment again, your hands might be permanently crippled.”

Liu Xiu stopped struggling. Tao Zhu leaned in to speak, startling Liu Xiu and making her almost cry again. Lu Shanrou pulled out a small rhombus-shaped mirror from her pouch and said, “Take a look at yourself. Your face is swollen like a pig’s head—it’s terrifying. Sit aside.”

Tao Zhu looked at her reflection in the mirror and was shocked. Her swollen face, covered in bloodstains, made the pig’s head on a butcher’s block seem handsome in comparison.

Enduring the excruciating pain in her fingers, Liu Xiu weakly said, “I’m sorry for dragging you both into this. I lied. I’m not a virtuous woman—I’m an official courtesan…”

It turned out that Liu Xiu was a musician-courtesan under the jurisdiction of the Jiaofangsi, with the stage name Mingluan. She lived in Yanle Alley, and her family had been government slaves for generations, bound to the Jiaofangsi.

Last night, the only son of Grand Secretary Li, Young Master Li, came to Yanle Alley and demanded Liu Xiu’s company—for dining, chatting, and sleeping.

Young Master Li was a regular in the red-light district. His body had long been drained, leaving him weak and powerless, so he resorted to taking pills to enhance his virility.

Young Master Li also had peculiar preferences. He asked Liu Xiu to bind his joints with red ropes, rendering him immobile. Afterward, Liu Xiu discovered that he couldn’t move even if he wanted to.

As the only son of Grand Secretary Li, Young Master Li held a prestigious status. Liu Xiu feared that even if she wasn’t beaten to death, she would lose half her life. Terrified, she dared not make a sound and decided to bide her time.

There were attendants stationed outside the bedroom, so Liu Xiu didn’t dare to act rashly. With Young Master Li’s lifeless body beside her, she endured until the fifth watch (around 3 a.m.). Though it was still dark, the curfew had been lifted. Liu Xiu packed her valuables and silver notes, tucked them into her bosom, and calmly left under the pretense of going to the temple to offer incense and fulfill a vow. Before leaving, she informed the attendants outside that Young Master Li had “played” all night and was “exhausted,” needing to rest until at least noon. She warned them not to disturb him, or they would lose their reward money.

As a valuable asset, the brothel madam would never allow Liu Xiu to leave alone. Wherever she went, servants followed to monitor her. After offering incense, Liu Xiu used the excuse of treating the servants to a meal. She served them fine food and wine, getting them all drunk, which finally gave her the chance to escape.

By the afternoon, the incident in Yanle Alley had finally come to light. Liu Xiu hadn’t yet left the city when she was discovered. Like prey being chased by hunters, she was pursued relentlessly. Amidst the storm, Tao Zhu appeared on horseback at the street corner.

Liu Xiu, desperate as if clutching at her last straw, ran toward her, crying out for help, “Help! Someone is harassing a virtuous woman!”

Seeing injustice, Tao Zhu pulled Liu Xiu onto her horse and fled.

Tao Zhu was left dumbfounded by the story. Lu Shanrou, who had seen much in her life, remarked that some of the cases in her three-volume Lu Case Records were even more bizarre than Young Master Li’s death. She said: “Death by ‘wind on horseback’ isn’t uncommon in Yanle Alley. It’s just a condition caused by excessive indulgence in wine and women, leading to a depletion of vitality. In the end, it’s the client’s own doing. Someone like Young Master Li—if he didn’t die in your bed, he would’ve died in someone else’s. If what you’re saying is true, Grand Secretary Li’s anger toward you seems rather unfair.”

Tao Zhu finally snapped out of her shock and said, “I’ll take responsibility for your case. It’s not your fault—you didn’t force Young Master Li onto… your bed. Grand Secretary Li is being petty.”

“What a bold claim. Just who exactly are you, Tao Zhu?” Lu Shanrou asked, “Grand Secretary Li is a Grand Secretary of the Cabinet. How can you intervene?”

“Anyway…” At this moment, Tao Zhu noticed the pain in her head, grimaced, and rubbed it. “As long as I can get out, I’ll have a way to solve this. Leave it to me.”

“It’s useless. Not even a deity can save me now,” Liu Xiu shook her head violently. “Just now, I was dragged into the bedroom for questioning. Young Master Li was lying on the bed, his neck slit, with the pillow and bed covered in blood.”

Lu Shanrou and Tao Zhu asked in unison, “Wasn’t it death by ‘wind on horseback’?”

Liu Xiu was on the verge of collapse. “I don’t know! He was already dead—how can a person die twice?”