Chapter 43: Envoys from the Crown Prince

This case is indeed far from simple!

She returned to the cell once more, intending to question Lady Jin again. What was the difference between the belt Xiao Die usually wore at home and the one missing from the scene?

But to her shock, what greeted her was Lady Jin’s corpse!

All that remained were the wounds around her neck and a handkerchief placed upon her chest. On it, a strip three fingers wide was drawn in blood—resembling a sword, yet also like a bamboo rod. What was Lady Jin trying to convey? For the moment, Yu Bing could not decipher it.

“She killed herself!” After the examination, the coroner looked at Yu Bing, who stood shoulder to shoulder with the county magistrate, and addressed the official.

“Suicide?” The magistrate glanced warily at Yu Bing: the moment she met this prisoner, the woman killed herself! What did they talk about? Or did Yu Bing deliberately enter the cell to drive Lady Jin to suicide? And who was she, really? He realized he had seen nothing on her that could prove her identity. How had he so carelessly assumed she was someone of importance? And let her approach Lady Jin alone!

Blaming himself for his muddle-headedness, the magistrate discreetly signaled the bailiffs, who quietly surrounded Yu Bing.

Feeling reassured, he stepped back a few paces and said, “Miss Yu, I hope you can clarify whose orders brought you here! So I have a way to report to my superiors!”

“I…” Yu Bing hesitated, unsure how to answer. At that moment, a bailiff hurried to the magistrate’s side and whispered in his ear.

“Quick, invite them in!” A distinguished visitor must have arrived; the magistrate’s expression brightened, and he hurried off, leaving the bailiffs exchanging uncertain glances.

“Chief, what should we do with her?” one of them asked, uncertain.

“Damn it, what do you think? Just seize her first!” the leader barked.

Hearing this, Yu Bing guessed a fierce struggle was imminent. She flicked her wrist, a silver needle slipping between her fingers, her whole body poised and ready.

“Yes!” the bailiffs replied in unison, advancing upon Yu Bing in battle formation.

“Wait!” Yu Bing’s voice was cold and steady as she fixed the leader with her gaze. “I am here on orders from above. You have no authority to arrest me!”

Her words had the desired effect—the bailiffs faltered and hesitated. After all, it was widely known that Lady Jin was protected by powerful patrons.

“You say so, but where’s your proof?” the leader challenged, not so easily convinced.

Yu Bing, seeing no other way, produced Zhang Huai’s jade pendant and handed it over, borrowing his authority for a moment.

The leader scrutinized the small piece of jade. “The design does look like one used by those above, and the quality is excellent. I hope you’re not deceiving me!”

“Who would dare forge such a design?” Yu Bing pressed her advantage. “Even if someone could, who would dare buy it? That’s a crime punishable by death!”

The leader eyed her skeptically. “You sound both convincing and suspicious. I’m not sure what to believe.”

“She’s telling the truth. That jade pendant was given to her by the Crown Prince himself!” That familiar, cheerful voice rang out, and Yu Bing knew her troubles were over.

She quietly returned the silver needle to its place, waiting for Kai Xin’s arrival.

“My apologies, my apologies, Lady Yu…” The magistrate hurried up, full of regret.

“I am no official,” Yu Bing deflected his effusive greeting with subtle grace.

“Right, right, neither of us are officials. Miss Yu, I had no idea you were sent by the Crown Prince. Please forgive my poor judgment. For the sake of my age, I hope you won’t hold it against me.” He looked at her with hopeful eyes, hesitated, then summoned his courage. “Miss Yu, I hope you might put in a good word for me to His Highness. I don’t ask for a promotion, just a transfer.”

“Magistrate, you’re speaking to the wrong person,” Yu Bing replied with a gentle smile. “Your request should go to our guest outside.”

The magistrate was left speechless, only able to turn a hopeful gaze to the two who entered.

“Sister Bing!” Kai Xin called out coquettishly, then turned to the magistrate. “It won’t help to ask me; the Crown Prince never listens to me!”

She was joined by Chang Xiao, who greeted her with her usual crisp, cool tone. “Sister Bing.”

“Lady Yu—”

“May I inspect the scene again?” Yu Bing interrupted, pointing to the cell.

“Of course, of course,” the magistrate replied at once, brusquely shoving aside the bailiff at the door. He was all smiles and deference. “Please, whatever you need, just ask—I’ll see to it immediately.” He then turned and barked orders at the bailiffs. “Did you hear that? Whatever Miss Yu commands, you must obey—at once and without question! Understood?”

“Yes!”

“Go on, go on!” Satisfied with their response, the magistrate waved them off.

Yu Bing paid no mind to the commotion outside the cell. She paused at Lady Jin’s door, studying the layout anew.

The entire cell block was shaped like the character for “vessel.” Lady Jin had occupied the upper left corner, while the talkative prisoner Yu Bing had questioned earlier was held directly opposite. The lower left cell housed a notorious bandit, his head encased in an iron hood. Only these three occupied the block.

Apart from the curious female prisoner, whose gaze followed Yu Bing’s movements, the bandit was perfectly quiet; he had been sleeping when Yu Bing first entered and hadn’t stirred since.

Yu Bing gently pushed open the cell door. The floor was a chaos of footprints, evidence of the turmoil when the body was first discovered.

Lady Jin’s tongue protruded, her body slumped askew on the ground. Her black hair covered her face, mercifully hiding the contorted expression she wore in death. Her neck was scored with bloody scratches, the flesh torn and dried. Her fingernails were packed with her own flesh, clear evidence that in her final moments, she had regretted her act but had been unable to save herself. The bloody ligature mark around her throat was stark and unmistakable.

The bloodstained belt still swayed above her head, a strand of hair occasionally drifting down. The bed below remained as it was, its bedding in disarray from a desperate struggle—telling, in its silence, how much Lady Jin had wished not to die. Stray bits of straw from the bedding lay scattered on the floor.

“Examine!” Yu Bing rolled up her sleeves and crouched by the body.

“Height, five and a half feet. Female. Neck bears erratic scratches. Hair, disheveled. Dressed in white prison garb. Tongue protruding, unusually long. All ten fingers cramped and curled, veins bulging, nails packed with blood and flesh. Injuries to the fingers match the wounds at the neck—self-inflicted. One deep ligature mark circles the neck, reaching behind the ears; severe bruising, cause of death. No signs of poisoning, no other wounds, no signs of internal injury. Conclusion…” Yu Bing looked long and hard at Lady Jin, and with a helpless sigh, said, “She did indeed die by her own hand.”

“Suicide?” Kai Xin, who was filling out the death register, paused in disbelief. “How can that be?”

“It’s suicide,” Yu Bing affirmed, seeing her friend’s doubts. “There are no traces of another person’s involvement.” Yet Yu Bing knew Lady Jin could not have taken her own life—she had not yet cleared her daughter’s name. Suicide was unthinkable. To avoid alerting the real culprit, Yu Bing decided to let this small falsehood stand, hoping it might serve her purpose.

Rising, Yu Bing accepted a clean, damp towel from Chang Xiao. Wiping her hands as she stepped out, she addressed the magistrate: “You may remove the body now. Make sure no one enters the scene—preserve it for further investigation.”

“Yes, yes!” The magistrate responded eagerly, then ordered two bailiffs, “You and you, stand guard here. No one enters except for Miss Yu’s people!”

“Yes,” the two replied, taking up positions on either side of the door.

Once the guards were in place, Yu Bing tossed the towel back to Chang Xiao and, not waiting for the magistrate to speak again, strode out of the cell.

Outside Linhai County, on an unnamed mountain.

Zhang Huai, his wounds just beginning to heal, had finally received the abbot’s permission to walk outside.

“You’re out!” The abbot, sunning scriptures in the courtyard, saw Zhang Huai stretching and immediately cautioned him, “Though I’ve allowed you some fresh air, you mustn’t exert yourself, lest your wounds reopen.”

“I owe my quick recovery to you, Abbot,” Zhang Huai said, halting mid-stretch to bow with joined palms. “Thank you!”

“Amitabha, blessings upon you,” the abbot replied, setting aside his scriptures and returning the bow. “It is a monk’s compassion to save lives. A single life saved is worth more than building seven pagodas. It is what I must do. You are too attached.”

“Whether I am or not, I only know I must go,” Zhang Huai replied, gazing at the scriptures spread in the sun. “She has waited long enough—I’m sure she’s anxious by now.”

“The world is full of suffering, and if the outcome is known to be fruitless, why linger?” the abbot asked, following his gaze.

“Though the world is short and bitter, its memories are sweet,” Zhang Huai answered, turning to the abbot with unwavering determination. “I wish to gather as many of those sweet memories as I can, to savor for the rest of my life.”