Chapter 5

Continuing from the last part, Liu Xiu claimed that Young Master Li died from a ‘death on horseback.’ However, upon seeing the corpse again, Young Master Li’s neck was only half intact. ‘Death on horseback’ was self-inflicted, but he can’t cut his own neck like this—it was clearly murder.

(*) death by intercourse excitement.

As a result, the fleeing Liu Xiu was captured and subjected to harsh interrogation, and Tao Zhu and Lu Shanrou were also implicated as accomplices.

Lu Shanrou asked, “Are you certain he died in the middle of the night?”

Liu Xiu replied, “Not exactly the middle of the night; it was already the fourth watch in the late hours. I untied the red rope and asked him if he wanted me to help with a bath. He didn’t respond, and I thought he was asleep, so I went to bathe myself. But when I returned and lay down beside him, something felt wrong. I checked his breath and discovered he had already stopped breathing.”

Lu Shanrou asked again, “How many times did you check? Could you be too nervous and afraid, so you fail to notice his faint breathing? When people sleep deeply or have certain illnesses, their breathing can be very weak. Some people who snore might even experience brief pauses in their breathing, but they are not actually dead.”

These words made Liu Xiu start doubting herself. After thinking for a moment, she said, “I was terrified at the time. I checked multiple times and couldn’t detect any breathing. There were servants on duty in the side room next to the bedroom, but I didn’t dare disturb them. I gently called him, shook him, even pinched his philtrum. I also used an ear-cleaning pin to pick up a bit of snuff and placed it in his nostrils, but he didn’t react at all.”

“After that, I didn’t check his breath again, but Young Master Li’s body felt colder and colder. How could a living person be like that? Yes, he was definitely dead.”

“He was dead,” Liu Xiu said with increasing certainty. “His body turned cold, and his skin gradually turned pale. Seeing him like that terrified me, so I changed his position—from lying flat on his back to his side facing the wall. That way, I wouldn’t have to see his face.”

As Liu Xiu spoke, she gestured with her swollen fingers as if pushing an invisible person. “When I pushed him, his body was still soft, but his face and neck had already stiffened. I had to use a lot of force to turn his face away. At that point, how could he possibly still be alive?”

Hearing this, Tao Zhu instinctively twisted her neck from side to side as if Liu Xiu had forcibly turned her neck.

Lu Shanrou, who didn’t write the three volumes of Lu Case Records for nothing, said, “After death, rigor mortis sets in, starting with the face and neck. The whole body stiffens after a day, and after two days, the corpse becomes soft again. When you left at the third hour of the fifth watch, an hour had already passed. At that time, did his body show any livor mortis?”

Liu Xiu asked, “What is livor mortis?”

Lu Shanrou said, “It’s the purple spots. These appear all over the body, not just on the face. At that time, he… he wasn’t wearing clothes, so you should have been able to see them.”

Death on horseback, everyone…

Liu Xiu closed her eyes and carefully recalled, “I think there were some, very small, like pinpricks. As for whether they were purple, I’m not sure. The candlelight was dim, and darker colors all looked black.”

Tao Zhu clutched her aching head. “Black, pinprick-sized livor mortis all over the body—how could you overlook that? At this point, are you still holding back from us?”

“Don’t tell me you’re lying again! I already knew you were a courtesan, but… I still would’ve saved you. Upholding justice is about helping the weak and fighting oppression, not about judging someone’s status. I, Tao the Hero, have principles.”

Liu Xiu shook her head repeatedly. “I’m not lying, really. Didn’t I already say he liked bondage and asked me to tie him up with a red rope? I did as he asked, and we… we played for a long time. It wasn’t until the fourth watch that I untied him. He was tied up for so long that, except for his face, his whole body was covered in rope marks, like fine snakes coiling all over him. At the time, I was panicked and flustered; all I noticed were those marks. I didn’t pay attention to the smaller ones.”

Well… that does make sense. Young Master Li was definitely dead. But then, who would cut the neck of a corpse? And why? Lu Shanrou’s mind was filled with questions. Suddenly, a thought flashed through her mind like lightning in the dark, and everything became clear.

Lu Shanrou asked, “What position was he in on the bed at the end? Mimic it for me.”

“What’s the point of this?” Tao Zhu asked, puzzled.

“To find the real culprit,” Lu Shanrou replied. “To identify who later cut his neck. Perhaps the culprit didn’t know he was already dead and went ahead with the act.”

Liu Xiu demonstrated herself. She lay on her side on the straw pile in the woodshed, her right side down, back facing the two of them, with her arms and legs curled up like a fetus in the womb. Her right knee was almost parallel to her abdomen. Liu Xiu explained, “I placed him in this position because lying flat on one’s side can cause the body to roll over, but curling up makes it more stable.”

This made it look like he was peacefully sleeping, facing inward. A scene formed in Lu Shanrou’s mind. “His whole body was covered in rope marks… You later covered his body with a quilt, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Liu Xiu gestured around her neck, “I covered him up to here, not even exposing his shoulders. That way, even if someone came in midway, they wouldn’t notice anything unusual and would just think he was asleep.”

Lu Shanrou immediately sensed something was off. “But last night was very hot. I didn’t even touch my quilt all night. Wrapping him up so tightly—wasn’t that an obvious flaw?”

Tao Zhu chimed in, “Exactly, exactly! I drank so much Autumn Dew White last night, felt even hotter, took a cold shower, and slept in a sleeveless shirt. I didn’t use a quilt at all the whole night.”

Liu Xiu said, “In our establishment, during summer, we host distinguished guests like Young Master Li by spending heavily on ice to keep cool. My bedroom had five boxes of ice stacked to the brim, with an ice jar placed by the bed. The doors and windows were tightly shut, and it was cool all night.”

“In the morning, when I left, I was worried the corpse might rot and stink, releasing odors. So I ordered the servants to bring in five new boxes of ice to replace the old ones, saying it was to ensure Young Master Li could rest well. The ice wouldn’t completely melt until the afternoon.”

Lu Shanrou observed Liu Xiu: such a clever girl, able to stay calm and find a way to escape even in such dire circumstances. But alas, she was born in the mire, unable to control her fate. As a courtesan, she belonged to the lowest social class, destined to be an entertainer for generations. If she were plain-looking, she might survive on her skills, but being beautiful and of low status, unable to protect herself, was a tragedy.

Liu Xiu cried, “I’m truly innocent; I didn’t kill anyone. Even if I were to kill, I wouldn’t dare kill Young Master Li—the only son of a cabinet minister. Why would I do such a thing?”

When Lu Shanrou heard the word “injustice,” she thought of her father, Lu Qingtian. He was renowned for his sharp judgment, unwavering integrity, and refusal to consider status or rank—only the truth and fairness mattered to him. Her father once said, “To wrongly accuse one person is to let the real culprit go free.”

Lu Shanrou quietly shared her plan with them, then suddenly raised her voice, “Miss, wake up! Tao Zhu, you try—she seems to have no breath!”

Tao Zhu joined in, playing along, “I can’t tell! Is she dead? To use private punishment under the Emperor’s reign, to take lives so lightly—is there any justice left? Is there any law left? Does Minister Li want to rebel?”

The guards outside heard the commotion, finally unlocked the door, and entered. They saw Liu Xiu lying on the straw pile. One guard crouched down to check her breathing. Taking advantage of his lack of vigilance, Tao Zhu grabbed the knife from the guard’s waist and held it against his neck, saying, “We need to see Minister Li.”

The guard growled, “So you really are accomplices!”

Lu Shanrou said, “You work in the government, yet you arrest people recklessly without distinguishing right from wrong. Do you even know who we are?”

The guard sneered, “People living in a haunted house—what kind of important figures could you be? Taking me hostage is useless. My life isn’t worth much, and even if you escape the woodshed, there are other patrolmen outside. You won’t get away.”

Tao Zhu spat and said, “You’re looking down on people! So what if it’s a haunted house? I like living there!”

Such is the harsh reality of the world, treating people differently depending on their status. Chengqing Neighborhood in the central city is a neighborhood for the powerful and wealthy. If it were any other mansion, these guards wouldn’t dare storm in so boldly to capture people.

Because of the haunted house’s notorious reputation, the guards assumed its tenants were all penniless and easy to oppress. If there were accomplices, they could claim credit and seek rewards from Minister Li. Hence, they’d rather arrest a thousand innocents than let a single culprit go free.

Lu Shanrou knew that shouting about injustice or reasoning with these hardened guards would be pointless. Without even meeting Minister Li, how could she plead Liu Xiu’s case? She needed to combine force with diplomacy, showing her strength and connections to make them listen.

Lu Shanrou said, “Open your eyes and look carefully! We are Wei Cuicheng’s people, a commander of the Jinyiwei.” In reality, they had only just met as neighbors, but Lu Shanrou left out Wei Cuicheng’s minor position, knowing that the title of Jinyiwei commander sounded far more intimidating.

The guard was momentarily stunned but then mocked, “A grand Jinyiwei commander living in a haunted house? Even your lies are pathetic.”

Lu Shanrou said, “Believe it or not, you can go to the Jinyiwei and ask Wei Cuicheng yourself.”

Liu Xiu raised her swollen fingers, “You’ve tortured me severely, yet I haven’t confessed that they’re accomplices. I truly don’t know them.”

Tao Zhu added, “Minister Li is a Grand Secretary in the Cabinet, also serving as Minister of Rites. Jiaosifang is under the Ministry of Rites, so killing an official slave wouldn’t shake him. But we’re not just acquaintances of Wei Cuicheng—she’s a fifth-rank titled lady, and I’m a merchant-class citizen with documented household registration.”

The guards, hearing this, softened their attitude slightly but still questioned, “A fifth-rank titled lady and a merchant-class citizen—one with power, one with money—why would they live in a haunted house?”

Tao Zhu replied, “Because it’s fun! The infamous haunted house—I wanted to experience it firsthand.”

Lu Shanrou explained, “My surname is Lu; I’m the youngest daughter of the Lu family. That’s my home—why wouldn’t I live there?”

The guard was astonished. She’s actually the youngest daughter of Lu Qingtian?

Lu Shanrou said, “If you take us to meet Minister Li and explain everything face-to-face, this will merely be a misunderstanding, and we won’t pursue this unwarranted disaster. But if you insist on making things difficult for us and keep us detained, neither Commander Wei Cuicheng of the Jinyiwei nor we can contend with Minister Li. However, dealing with a low-ranking guard like you is no challenge at all. At that point, do you think Minister Li would sacrifice you to protect himself?”

With that, Lu Shanrou took the knife Tao Zhu had held to the guard’s neck and sheathed it. “Now, it’s your choice.”

Using force first and diplomacy later, then switching to diplomacy before force, Lu Shanrou made clear the stakes. In this unjust world, where power crushes the powerless, even proving one’s innocence is a challenge. This is why casebook novels like Lu Case Records and Judge Bao’s Cases became so popular among the common folk—people fantasized about an incorruptible official standing up for justice.

The guard was finally persuaded. “I’ll take you to report to the official, but let me be clear—just as Madam said, I’m only a minor soldier with little influence. Whether the official will see you or not, I cannot decide.”

Lu Shanrou supported Liu Xiu, while Tao Zhu held an umbrella for them as they followed the guard to seek an audience with Minister Li.

Meanwhile, Wei Cuicheng braved the rain to visit Commander Mou Bin, his foster father, at the Mu residence, seeking support. The doorkeeper hurriedly ushered him in, saying, “The master has been at the office for days and hasn’t returned home.”

Wei Cuicheng rode his horse to the Jinyiwei headquarters in Jiangmi Alley, South City. He didn’t expect the place to be bustling on this stormy night, with people rushing and a tense atmosphere. His foster father hadn’t returned home for several days, indicating that something significant must have occurred.

Wei Cuicheng’s presence in the Jinyiwei headquarters was as good as a pass. He moved unimpeded, not even needing to dismount his horse, and rode straight to Commander Mu Bin’s office. He dismounted, barely taking off his rain gear, and entered directly, bowing as he greeted, “Foster Father.”

Mou Bin appeared exhausted, his eyes bloodshot. Taking a sip of herbal tea, he said, “It’s almost midnight. What brings you here? Don’t tell me another elephant is sick—I’m not a veterinarian.”

Wei Cuicheng responded, “I seek a letter of introduction from you, Foster Father.”

“Interesting. You haven’t asked me for anything in ten years.” Mou Bin took another sip of tea, pressing the ginseng slice against his tongue to alleviate fatigue. “Why the sudden request for a letter tonight?”

Before Wei Cuicheng could find the right words, a subordinate lightly knocked on the door and said, “Chief, there’s new information about that person.”

“Come in quickly,” Mou Bin replied, overwhelmed with work. He then pulled out a red card from his drawer, stamped it, and handed it to Wei Cuicheng. “Take it—and don’t forget to come home for a meal during the Zhongyuan Festival.”

Wei Cuicheng had never seen his foster father so anxious before. However, as a minor officer responsible for tending elephants, he knew he couldn’t be of much help. Avoiding causing trouble seemed to be the best form of filial duty he could offer. After bowing and bidding farewell, he set off again, braving the stormy night to head to Grand Secretary Li’s residence in West City.

To his dismay, Grand Secretary Li wasn’t at home.

Suspecting the steward of making excuses, Wei Cuicheng presented Mou Bin’s letter of introduction and declared, “I must see Grand Secretary Li immediately. Now.”

The steward was stunned upon seeing the letter and said, “Commander Wei, follow me.”

The steward led Wei Cuicheng to Huanghua Lane in the East City of Beijing. Turning off Chaoyangmen South Street, they entered a narrow alleyway. By this time, the fourth watch had sounded, signaling it was the dead of night. Yet, some mansions in the alley were still lively with music and dancing. This area was home to entertainment establishments like the brothels and theaters managed by the Directorate of Entertainment.

Wei Cuicheng couldn’t help but wonder: What is Grand Secretary Li doing here with a young widow? Is he reliving the wild passions of his youth?

Thinking of this, Wei Cuicheng tightened his legs against his horse’s flanks, urging the steward to lead the way faster. The two arrived at a household in Yanle Alley, entering through the back door. They were led to a brightly lit room.

The steward took the letter of introduction and knocked on the door before going in. After a short while, he returned, gestured invitingly, and said, “Commander Wei, you may enter.”