"I HAD SOME WINE…" Rong Qing trailed off. There was no need to elaborate.
Drinking created problems. He'd planned to get just a little tipsy, but he'd vastly overestimated his tolerance. The wine was sweet, so he hadn't worried overmuch. But after downing one cup after another, things had spiraled out of control; he'd passed out, oblivious to everything around him, and ended up in a honey trap.
Who knew how many truths he'd spilled while drunk?
Would Huang Lüe use this to threaten him? Rong Qing's mind raced. His face was ashen; he no longer cared whether Cui Buqu thought he was a fool.
He had come here to accurately assess the situation, not land himself in hot water. His career as an official was just beginning—he couldn't afford any missteps. No matter how beautiful the woman, Rong Qing believed he had the self-discipline to resist temptation. Yet now he'd gotten drunk and delivered himself straight into the enemy's hands.
"If not for me, you'd be drowning in the charms of a woman right now."
As Cui Buqu approached, Rong Qing felt a wave of guilt and instinctively shrank back. Yet in the next moment he realized what he'd done and his face burned with embarrassment. It suddenly dawned on him why he'd gone to such lengths to avoid Cui Buqu.
Cui-xiansheng's gaze was razor-sharp, as if there was nothing he couldn't see through. What left his mouth was mostly biting mockery—to him, Rong Qing's passionate enthusiasm was merely foolhardy courage. Everyone yearned to hear praise and desired to see beauty, and Rong Qing was no exception.
But this yearning had nearly led him to disaster. If Cui Buqu hadn't woken him, even if he sprouted eight mouths in the morning, they wouldn't be enough to profess his innocence. Rong Qing steeled himself. "Thank you, Cui-xiansheng. I was careless," he admitted.
Cui Buqu hadn't the slightest interest in cowing Rong Qing. He didn't bat an eye as Rong Qing attempted to get out of bed and put on his boots. "Lie down. You can't leave."
Huh? Rong Qing was momentarily stunned. But he soon understood: If he left now, he'd offend Huang Lüe's pride and make it difficult to conduct any future investigations. He opened his mouth to speak, then hesitated and looked back at the woman in his bed. He couldn't tell if she was asleep or merely pretending, which made conversation inconvenient.
Cui Buqu leaned forward and patted the woman's cheek, his touch anything but gentle. "Wake up!"
The beauty woke in a daze and found two men looking down at her. She opened her mouth to scream, but Cui Buqu was faster. He clapped one hand over her mouth and struck the back of her neck with the other. The woman went limp and collapsed. Now she was unconscious for certain.
Rong Qing was speechless. He'd expect nothing less of the notorious Zuoyue Bureau—even their chief was ruthless.
"I took a look around outside when I came in," he heard Cui Buqu say.
If Huang Lüe and his allies intended to corrupt Rong Qing, there was no need to set anyone outside to eavesdrop on him. As long as he spent the night here, people would assume he was on Huang Lüe's side.
Rong Qing pondered for a moment. "If I leave at dawn, won't the person who sent the paintings think I've submitted to Huang Lüe? They might stop sending clues altogether. Shouldn't I instead pretend to wake up in the middle of the night, make a scene, and leave?"
So he wasn't completely hopeless after all. Cui Buqu's mouth curled into a smirk. "Perhaps. But how much of a scene can you make on your own?"
Rong Qing shot him a quizzical look.
***
Li Yan had also drunk immoderately at the banquet. By the end of the night, his servants had to help him stumble into the carriage. He slept soundly until the next morning, when a trusted aide came in with reports of a major incident at Magistrate Huang's residence the previous night.
Censor Rong had woken in the dead of night to discover a beautiful woman at his side. Enraged, he'd stormed into the next room and, finding his aide drunk as well, struck the man before grabbing a servant from the county office to help locate Huang Lüe. The censor had then yanked Huang Lüe from his bed and berated him for indulging in hedonistic pleasures with the disaster ongoing. The unfortunate County Magistrate Huang received a punch to the eye; he wouldn't be fit to appear in public for the next few days.
Li Yan burst into laughter. When he finally caught his breath, he asked, "Did Censor Rong really sleep with that woman?"
His aide winked. "I heard she woke with her clothes in disarray and bruises all over her body. She was crying and complaining about the pain. It seems Censor Rong hasn't had a proper meal in quite some time—he went a bit overboard!"
Li Yan laughed again. "Perhaps she lacks experience!"
"This Rong Qing may be reckless and rude, but he poses no real threat," his aide said, laughing with him. "Once the flood recedes, he'll have no choice but to depart empty-handed; then everything will return to normal. All will be well."
Li Yan shook his head. "That won't do. If nothing changes, how will I rise in the ranks and replace Huang Lüe? That bastard is so indecisive—it's clear he's wavering. There's a high chance he'll end up ruining things. Best for him and Rong Qing to battle it out—let them take care of each other. Go, fetch me a brush and some paper."
***
When Cui Buqu and Rong Qing returned to their lodgings at the relay station, they met Guan Shanhai on his way in.
Neither Guan Shanhai nor Qiao Xian had attended the previous night's banquet, for two reasons: First, bringing two expert martial artists as their guards would inevitably attract attention when they needed to keep a low profile. And second, if they were to be recognized, it would expose the involvement of the Zuoyue Bureau, which would hinder their investigation.
"What did you find?" Rong Qing couldn't resist asking Guan Shanhai.
Guan Shanhai glanced at Cui Buqu. On receiving a nod, he said, "The lord chief ordered me to investigate Yang Yun, the governor of Guangqian Commandery."
Rong Qing was taken aback. "Yang Yun? Shouldn't we be investigating Huang Lüe?"
"If Huang Lüe is corrupt, do you think Yang Yun is unaware? He's either feigning ignorance or an incompetent coward trapped under Huang Lüe's thumb. Or perhaps he's the real leader. Whichever it is, he cannot escape blame."
Rong Qing was stunned. He'd never considered the third possibility.
"Yang Yun's first wife died in childbirth over ten years ago," Guan Shanhai reported. "He married again, but his second wife bore him no children. She even urged him to take a concubine to ensure the continuation of the Yang family legacy, but Yang Yun insisted on remaining true to his second wife. To this day, he has no issue."
"He and his second wife must love each other dearly."
Guan Shanhai shook his head. "Over the past two days, I assumed a false identity, bribed the Yang family servants, and made up a few reasons to speak to them. Governor Yang spends most of his time in his study; he doesn't share a bedroom with his wife."
Rong Qing sensed some oddness in this, but couldn't put his finger on it.
Cui Buqu clarified things for him. "It's rare for a man, especially one of Yang Yun's age, to be uninterested in siring his own children. It'd be one thing if he was devoted to his wife. But if he doesn't even share a bedroom with her, we can safely dismiss that possibility."
Rong Qing gasped in understanding. "There's something strange about this Yang Yun!"
Once the insight struck him, it unleashed a torrent of thoughts. "If Yang Yun is the culprit, Huang Lüe won't escape unscathed. Last night, I was watching everyone at the gathering closely. Most of the landlords seemed to dread my appearance, as if I was about to demand a pound of their flesh. But the Li and Ding families—the largest landlords in the county and those who instigated the dispute last night—looked unconcerned. Perhaps they're already colluding with Huang Lüe and embezzling the grain! There's also Wu Yi, the county lieutenant. He drank more than anyone else last night, yet what's he done for the relief efforts? He must be involved as well. Why, Deputy Magistrate Li Yan might be the only clean person in the entire county!"
Face pale with anger, Rong Qing continued, "Yang Yun didn't attend the banquet last night—I'd say it's because he has a guilty conscience!"
Midway through their conversation, Qiao Xian returned as well. She was carrying a large sack, her expression oddly conflicted. Her brows were tightly knit, and she glanced again and again at the sack. She seemed to yearn to toss it away, yet she clutched it as if afraid someone would take it from her. The stomach-turning stench of rot followed her through the door.
"Lord Chief, the results of the investigation you ordered." She placed the sack on the table and opened it carefully.
Rong Qing's eyes grew round, and his face drained of color.
Within the sack lay a jumble of rags and robes, their original color indiscernible. But this was not the source of the stench. The smell came from human remains, bloated and pale from immersion in the water, flesh still clinging to the bone beneath. Fingers, hands, hair, ribs. Patches of rotting flesh that'd slipped from the bone and limbs that appeared to have been gnawed on by wild beasts. Every single one bore visible slash wounds.
Rong Qing jerked his head away and rushed out of the room. A moment later, the sound of retching came from outside.
Cui Buqu remained composed. "Wrap them up. And have someone fetch a cup of water for Censor Rong."
Rong Qing had drunk plenty the night before, but he hadn't eaten much. After emptying the contents of his stomach until there was nothing but bile, he finally made his way back, one hand on the wall for support.
"Where did this come from?" he asked shakily.
"Outside the city. The spot where you nearly drowned," said Qiao Xian.
Rong Qing was stunned. "You dug them up by that tree? So what the painting showed me was real!"
He took the water from Qiao Xian, but after a sip, a thought occurred to him. "Did you…did you wash your hands?"
Qiao Xian looked at him expressionlessly. "No."
Rong Qing had already swallowed some water—he couldn't even spit it out. His face instantly turned a vivid green.
Seeing him on the verge of rushing out to vomit again, Qiao Xian grabbed him and dragged him back, clicking her tongue. "You're a man! Why are you being so fussy?"
Rong Qing longed to cry, but he had no tears. He turned his head away to avoid looking at the sack. "How many corpses did you find?"
"The flood receded slightly today. There was just barely enough room to stand by that tree. I uncovered these after just a little digging; there were more below them. If I kept digging…" Qiao Xian paused, then said sharply, "I feared I'd never reach the end."
His lips quivered. Rong Qing didn't know what to say.
At that moment, the station clerk arrived with a message—a child outside had asked the clerk to bring something in. The clerk produced a bamboo tube addressed to Rong Qing.
Rong Qing tossed aside all thoughts of his churning stomach and demanded, "Where is the child? Bring him here, quickly!"
The clerk ducked his head in apology. "He's already run off; he only left this scroll. Take a look, my lordship?"
He hadn't missed the odd stench in the room and had stayed on the threshold, refusing to enter. When Qiao Xian threw him a handful of copper coins, he set down the tube and happily excused himself.
Rong Qing unsealed the bamboo tube and pulled out a tightly rolled paper. Unfurling it revealed yet another painting.
The style was the same as the first two, but the brush strokes were much thicker this time. It looked to have been carelessly rolled up and stuffed into the bamboo tube directly upon completion.
At the foot of a mountain sat a villa surrounded by trees. No guards stood near the villa gates, but on the steps squatted a large rat—almost half a pillar in height. Its tail curled behind it on the ground as it stared at the gates, and it leaned greedily forward, as if poised to dash in at any moment.
"'Big rat, big rat, no millet you shall eat. For three long years you've grown, no care for us you've shown. Big rat, big rat, no wheat you shall eat. For three long years you've grown, no kindness for us shown.'"4 Rong Qing recited. "Is this another hint, telling us to visit this villa?"
"If the painting is accurate, the villa is surrounded by a dense forest," Cui Buqu replied. "Assuming it's in an area unaffected by the flood, it can only be to the north of the city."
"Lord Chief," Qiao Xian interjected. "If I may, our most urgent task should be to discover who's been sending the paintings. They've sent three in a row to Censor Rong, hinting at wrongdoing, but refuse to reveal their identity. Why continue skulking about in the dark? Perhaps they mean us ill and wish to lead us astray."
"But you also see now that all the hints were true," Rong Qing countered. "How else could you have brought back that sack?!"
"A pile of corpses isn't an explanation. If there's really something suspicious happening at the villa in this painting, it must be heavily guarded. If you go rashly, you'll alert the enemy. Find it if you have the ability, but don't expect us to lead the charge. The lord chief didn't come here to do your job for you!"
Stunned, Rong Qing flushed with shame.
"Enough," Cui Buqu said. "Someone's already found the location for us."
He pulled a piece of paper from his sleeve, then unfolded it and placed it on the table.
Qixia Villa to the north of the city. The ninth night of the ninth month. Good for moon-watching. Removing clothes. Will await your arrival. Come alone. Let's share warmth.
The writing was unruly, without any signature, and the message made no sense. It was almost laughable. Yet this was the paper Li Shisi had stuffed into Cui Buqu's hand after teasing him the night before.