Chapter Twelve: An Unexpected Turn

“So this Drunken Flower Pavilion, doesn’t it mean it will fall completely into your hands?” he replied, with a half-smile that was hard to read.

The change in him over these past few days was truly baffling. She realized that the man before her was not some desperate pauper with nowhere to turn. The so-called pretense of making a living from manuscripts was likely nothing more than an illusion. But she was already aboard this ship; whether she could disembark was no longer for her to decide.

“Master Han, I was presumptuous just now; I failed to understand your intentions,” she said, offering an apology.

The clever always catch the undertones, and yet the grand auction at the Drunken Flower Pavilion proceeded as scheduled. The Bai family, who had never before interfered, now arrived in grand fashion, as if everything was already under their control.

“Today we are blessed at the Drunken Flower Pavilion, with so many illustrious guests gracing us with their presence…” Madam Li fawned, her intentions clear. The fiercer the competition among the scions of noble families, the hotter the potato in her hands became. When the moment came, she would not hesitate.

“This old woman won’t waste words—highest bidder wins!”

“Three hundred taels!”

“Three hundred and fifty!”

The bidding soared in the blink of an eye. Young Master Zhu kept raising his offer, but the Bai family’s men seemed ready to throw all decorum aside, ignoring backgrounds and status. The auction reached a fever pitch.

But suddenly—

“Help!” A heart-wrenching scream echoed through the hall. As the servants rushed over, a ghastly corpse came into view: hollow eyes, bloodstained arms, and wounds elsewhere. The scene was so abrupt that the auction was instantly halted.

Since Young Master Zhu held an official position at court, it was his duty to investigate. Who would dare commit murder in such a crowded place? Clearly, someone was trying to cover up something—or at least divert attention.

Han Qing, however, only glanced over, calm and detached. The market value of the pavilion would surely fall now, yet there would still be buyers, he thought.

Within a quarter of an hour, the constables arrived, bringing with them a renowned local coroner.

“Oh dear, what shall I do now? How can I ever keep my business running?” Madam Li wailed and lamented. She cared little for the dead girls; her real fear was that no one would dare to buy the Drunken Flower Pavilion now.

“Xiao Pei, you’ve ruined me!” The madam was a nuisance, refusing to cooperate and instead making a scene.

The coroner examined the victim: there were external injuries on her arms and ligature marks around her neck. Was it a crime of passion?

“Reporting, sir. It appears the killer quarreled violently with her, then, enraged, strangled her with a rope,” the coroner said.

No other clues emerged, and despite the earlier chaos, no suspicious individuals were found. What now?

“Were any of you close to her?” Young Master Zhu asked, noticing several girls deeply saddened—possibly her confidantes.

“Yes, she rarely flattered anyone. Apart from a few guests who appreciated her talent with the zither, she seldom had visitors,” one replied.

After questioning and surveying the room, they found nothing suspicious.

“What you just claimed—couldn’t you have been mistaken?” Han Qing suddenly interjected, directly challenging the coroner.

The coroner’s face darkened; his skills were a family legacy. Why should he tolerate ridicule from an obscure stranger?

“Let professionals do their work. If you don’t understand, hold your tongue,” Zhi Lan interceded, mediating with the poise of a true courtesan.

“What we see may only be what the killer wants us to see. Perhaps the scene is deliberately staged?” Han Qing countered again, his objections not personal, but rather because the investigation was too superficial, relying only on instinct, and therefore prone to major errors.

“Oh, do you really think your tricks will work here?” Second Young Master Bai, seeing Han Qing nitpicking, could not sit still. “Bookworm, have you read yourself stupid? You think we lack experience?”

Among the noble youths, a few words drowned Han Qing in a tide of mockery. Yet, he had indeed noticed something odd. If the killer and the victim had quarreled so fiercely, why was there no evidence left in the bedroom? Even if the murderer escaped through the window, surely they would have left traces in their haste. That was the strange part: not a single flaw or oversight, and the victim was killed right under their noses. The murderer must be highly skilled.

“Coroner, perhaps you should examine the inside of the victim’s body. Only looking at the surface will blind us to the truth,” Han Qing suggested, well-meaning but only angering the coroner further. How could he, the inheritor of generations of expertise, tolerate being contradicted by someone so unremarkable? Even by a noble, it was intolerable.

“Master Zhu, can we have all unrelated persons leave the room so we can continue the investigation?” the coroner snapped, no longer willing to listen.

Han Qing did not insist. Yet Zhi Lan sensed something was off.

“You truly saw some flaw in the scene?” she asked kindly.

Han Qing nodded.

Perhaps Young Master Zhu, sobered by Han Qing’s words, ordered the coroner to perform an autopsy and examine all food remnants in detail. Sure enough, there was something wrong with what the victim had eaten. When a silver needle was inserted, within moments it changed color.

“What is that? The needle turned color—there must be poison in the food!”

“So we truly wronged Han Qing.”

Second Young Master Bai, seeing how things stood, quickly adopted a conciliatory tone.

But Han Qing knew that, in ancient times, testing tools were scarce and only silver needles could be used—hardly precise. Even if the needle changed color, it could be the result of chemical changes during digestion, not necessarily poison itself.