Chapter Four: Plum Blossoms Weeping Blood Chapter Thirty: Turning the Tables

Just those two simple words, and nothing more! Watching from the side, Joy felt utterly lost in confusion.

“What does this mean?” she asked.

Yubing’s gaze happened to fall upon the jade flute drawn beneath the writing on the cloth. She smiled softly and said, “Don’t trouble yourself over it. I know who he is!”

“You know? He’s not an assassin?”

“No, he’s a friend of mine—a very intriguing person,” Yubing replied with a gentle smile.

“It’s him!” Zhang Huai, standing nearby, caught sight of the jade flute embroidered on the handkerchief in her hand, his tone tinged with jealousy. “So that’s all he found out?”

“This is likely the key to all the murders!” Yubing tucked the handkerchief into her robe and started toward the door.

“You mean, in the case of the Bleeding Plum Blossom, this thing called the Jade Sheath had contact with all the victims?” Zhang Huai followed at her heels.

“At the very least, it’s connected to them.” Reaching the inner doorway, Yubing paused and looked up at the frame, now so close she could almost touch it. Suddenly, she recalled a detail from the Magistrate’s suicide record:

When the constables arrived and stepped into the inner room, the crowing of roosters echoed outside. In that instant, the corpse fell without warning, as if something had been frightened away by the rooster’s cry.

“What is it?” Seeing her stop abruptly and look so unsettled, Zhang Huai followed her gaze to the threshold. “Wasn’t that just scorched by the torches? What have you found now?”

“I think I finally understand what happened here that night, eight years ago,” Yubing replied. She took a step back, rose on tiptoe, and gently caressed the wood where it had been blackened by smoke. Feeling a sunken patch among the soot, she instructed Zhang Huai, “Scrape away that top layer of soot—be gentle!”

“What a coincidence!” Zhang Huai marveled at the spot, charred by torches eight years ago. As the sharp iron fan scraped along, black shavings drifted down, revealing a slender groove in the frame.

“A cut mark?” Joy leaned in, curiosity shining in her eyes as she examined the familiar mark. “But why is it black inside? Did something burn there?”

“It wasn’t burnt from the outside—something was burned inside the groove! That’s the truth behind the corpse falling at the rooster’s crow!” Yubing leaned against the inner wall, absentmindedly twirling a blade of grass she didn’t remember picking up, lost in thought.

If her guess was correct, the Magistrate and the coroner’s bodies should bear similar marks. If the Jade Sheath was the cause behind it all, then every puzzle might be solved.

He killed the Magistrate for the Jade Sheath, using this very weapon. The greedy coroner met the same fate at the murderer’s hands.

But what exactly was the Jade Sheath? And whose hands held it now? Did possessing it make one the killer? If this theory held water, then Magistrate Chang’s family and that unfortunate constable must have been killed by her.

But what about the motive?

There should only be one Jade Sheath! Why kill so many? Could there be something even more important than exposing the murderer’s identity?

No, she had to test her first.

Yubing raised the blade of grass before her, twirled it lightly, then smiled knowingly and let it fall away.

Night descended, and the stars sparkled brilliantly overhead.

Everyone in the Central Province’s yamen moved with tense urgency. Occasionally, someone would hurry out of the guest room carrying a basin of blood-stained cloths, while others brought in clean basins of hot water. The courtyard brimmed with torch-bearing soldiers, all on high alert, their faces grave as if facing a dire enemy.

In the shadows of the corridor, a petite figure hid, clutching a pillar, waiting unguarded for death’s judgment to be passed upon the life struggling within the house.

“It’s all my fault! All because of me!” Magistrate Xu, pacing before the door, blamed himself endlessly. “I knew it was dangerous for you all to slip out, why didn’t I realize it and send someone to escort you sooner?” Watching the servants come and go with basins of bloody water, he was wracked by guilt. “Even if I’d been just a quarter hour earlier, she wouldn’t be so gravely wounded now!”

“You can’t blame yourself entirely,” Zhang Huai tried to comfort him with a pat on the shoulder. “None of us could have expected the assassin to be so bold, to strike at the very gates of the yamen!”

“May Buddha protect her! Let her survive this ordeal,” Magistrate Xu sighed, knowing that prayer was all that remained to him.

Neither of the two women beside him seemed to notice just who it was lying injured within the house. Hidden in the shadows, the mysterious woman was more anxious than anyone in the courtyard. The image of a snow-white plum blossom, stained with blood, hovered vividly before her eyes.

“Too—” Magistrate Xu, seeing Zhang Huai’s grim expression, changed his question: “Young Master Zhang, can you deduce anything from the weapon used? Narrow down the killer?”

“What is certain is that the attacker used a sword. Judging by the force and stature, it was most likely a woman,” Zhang Huai replied, tapping his folded fan and casting a worried glance at the closed door.

“A woman with a sword?” Magistrate Xu was deep in thought, but none were more shocked than the woman lurking in the corridor. “But that’s me! Yet… when did I act?”

“A woman with a sword?” Magistrate Xu looked at Zhang Huai in surprise. “Could it be the woman who attacked Miss Yu a second time, the one wielding a longsword?”

“Indeed, it must be her.”

“What was her name again? Let me think…”

“The night I entered, I heard someone shouting ‘Yan’er!’ That should be the assassin’s name.”

“Guards!” With Magistrate Xu’s shout, General Zhu, in charge of the perimeter, came swiftly to his side. “What are your orders, sir?”

“Post more men and secure the entire area. Without my written order, no one is to approach this place!” After a moment’s thought, he added, “Remember—be especially wary of women! Particularly martial women of striking appearance!”

“Yes, sir!” General Zhu saluted and hurried off, soon returning with more sharp-eyed, vigilant guards.

Realizing that staying any longer risked exposure, the woman in the shadows slipped away, deftly dodging the sentries.

Once the observer had gone, those in the guest room returned to their seats, each voicing their worries.

“Yubing, will she really come?” Zhang Huai sounded uncertain. “She’s not a fool—if she didn’t do it herself, she’ll just ask her accomplice, won’t she?”

“That’s right! Which means our whole plan is exposed!” Joy slumped into a chair, discouraged. “All our effort wasted!”

“She’ll come!” Yubing, in contrast, was full of confidence.

“Why? It’s just a matter of asking, isn’t it?” Magistrate Xu, just entering, was puzzled. “Why wouldn’t she just ask and be done with it?”

“You’re wrong,” Yubing replied, smiling. “She won’t ask. Instead, she’ll come here to see for herself before she does anything.”

Seeing their bewildered faces, Yubing didn’t keep them in suspense. “Don’t you know that the ones who care the most are the ones most easily thrown into chaos?”

“Oh! I get it!” Zhang Huai was the first to understand, nodding knowingly. “You’re counting on her concern for Joy! That inexplicable concern is her weakness!”

“But I don’t even know her!” Joy protested, confused. “Why would she care about me?” She turned to Yubing. “Bing, aren’t you afraid you’ve bet on the wrong horse? That it’ll all fall apart?”

“I trust her eyes,” Yubing replied simply, gazing out at the starlit sky. “Eyes are the windows to the soul—they can’t lie.” Then she turned to Joy. “That night, when you were wounded and unconscious, the worry in her eyes was real, straight from the heart. She couldn’t hide it from me. Besides, I was already injured and exhausted, unable to resist. If she hadn’t been unwilling to harm you—if she hadn’t been hurt by her own sword energy—I probably wouldn’t be here now.”

“In that case, let’s wait and see,” Zhang Huai said, no longer arguing, quietly hoping for a miracle.

At dawn, the mysterious woman found herself back where she had grown up. For a moment, she hesitated, unsure whether to ask her master if he had sent other assassins besides herself. Surrounded by familiar scenery, she couldn’t bring herself to voice the question. He was, after all, the master who had raised her—how could she be so abrupt? Better to investigate first. With that, she turned and left the ruined temple.

One day passed peacefully. Just as everyone was about to give up, the night fell, ripe with possibility.

“Yubing, it’s been an entire day—are you sure your plan has no holes?” In the same place, sitting as before, Zhang Huai fanned himself nervously.

“That’s right, Bing! What if she’s already realized it’s a trap and is just watching from the shadows?” Joy lay on the bed, her face pale from Yubing’s needlework, but her eyes full of worry.

“Miss Yu, isn’t this plan a bit too risky?” Magistrate Xu also voiced his concern. “Even if she falls for it, once she sees Miss Ye unharmed, she might fly into a rage! That would put Miss Ye in danger!”

“Danger isn’t what I fear. I only fear she won’t come,” Yubing replied, standing at the window and gazing at the expanse of stars. “Looks like I’ll have to add a bit more fuel to the fire.”