Chapter 4: The Corpse

Only the monk and Jiang Shen remained in the main hall.

The monk leaned against the cliff wall, sitting cross-legged with eyes tightly shut, seemingly meditating. Yet, from time to time, he would crack open a narrow slit to scrutinize Jiang Shen by the fire.

Jiang Shen poked at the fire and approached him. "By the way, Master, which Zen temple in the capital do you stay at during summer?"

The monk opened his eyes. "What business is that of yours?"

Jiang Shen smiled gently. "I have a feeling you look familiar, as though I’ve seen you somewhere before."

"You must be mistaken," the monk said firmly, his eyes carrying a warning.

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Inside the stone chamber, a long-burning lamp flickered softly. Haichao stepped in, using the faint light to see Lady Lu curled up in a corner, hugging her knees. Her shoulders trembled slightly—she was crying.

The refined and graceful lady, even in sorrow, cried in silence. Haichao felt a pang of despondency, involuntarily recalling the capital’s famed daughter of the Chamberlain, known for her poetry and beauty. Was she, too, like this young lady before her—delicate as clouds and petals? They might as well be worlds apart.

Silently, Haichao sat beside another stone bed.

At that moment, Lady Lu lifted her head, revealing swollen, walnut-sized eyes filled with panic and fear. "Miss Wang... do you think... we can get out alive?"

Guilt welled up in Haichao, and the inexplicable resentment she felt earlier vanished. She rose and sat beside her, taking her hand in reassurance. "Don’t be afraid; we will be fine."

"Really?" Lady Lu seemed doubtful, but a faint hope shimmered through her tear-filled eyes. "The monsters described in the silk scroll are terrifying..."

Haichao drew her pearl-harvesting knife from her waist, pulling out the sheath to show her. "Look at this blade. It’s fierce—I've slain tiger sharks in the sea and giant pythons in the forest. Even ghosts and monsters fear it!"

Lady Lu flinched but then cautiously reached out with slender fingers to touch the black blade, eyes full of admiration. "Miss Wang, you are so capable at such a young age. I may be older, but I am useless—weak and only a burden."

"Don’t say that," Haichao replied. "I’m a rough woman making my own way. You, a lady of noble birth, wouldn’t have much use for chopping wood or fishing."

Lady Lu stifled a laugh. "Miss Wang is truly kind."

Haichao blushed. "Just call me Haichao."

"Wang Haichao," Lady Lu whispered softly, "what a beautiful name. It suits you well—broad-minded and heroic, like gazing across the vast sea."

Haichao, only half understanding the formal language, caught the compliment and laughed heartily. "My mother gave it to me; I like it very much."

Lady Lu said, "I am the eleventh daughter in my clan, named Wan Ying. Everyone calls me Miss Eleven."

She took a jade pendant from her neck, showing Haichao the two characters inscribed.

Having worked in the county magistrate’s household, Haichao knew that noblewomen guarded their names like precious garments, rarely revealing them.

Yet Lady Lu shared hers willingly, surprising Haichao.

Wan Ying seemed to notice her astonishment and smiled faintly. "You have treated me sincerely; I ought to return the kindness."

"You’re very different from the wealthy young ladies I've met," Haichao said. "You don’t look down on others."

Wan Ying’s cheeks flushed. "Thank you, Haichao."

Her fears eased somewhat, perhaps due to exhaustion, and before long she fell asleep on the stone bed.

Haichao, however, was restless after Liang Ye’s words.

How did he know the monk was an impostor?

Curiosity gnawed at her, but she dared not ask.

Tossing and turning, the light of the long-burning lamp on the opposite wall blurred as if veiled by smoke. Her head grew heavy, and she drifted into sleep.

How long she slept, she could not tell, but a sudden, piercing scream—like a rooster’s crow—awoke her. She sprang up.

Lady Lu woke too, dazed. "What’s happening?"

"I’ll go see," Haichao said. "You stay here."

Wan Ying hesitated but nodded. "Be careful."

………………………………………………………………………………

When Haichao reached the main hall, the sight shocked her.

The bird-headed, human-bodied stone statue bore a large splash of blood. A man lay before it, a gaping wound across his throat, his garment stained dark brown, barely recognizable.

A short knife, about a foot long, lay nearby, dripping with fresh blood.

It was Jiang Shen.

Liang Ye crouched beside him, checking his breath and lifting his eyelids to examine his pupils.

Cheng Hanlin stood far off, pale-faced, clutching the stone wall and dry-heaving—the source of the scream likely him.

"He’s been dead for at least an hour," Liang Ye said calmly, as if the sky falling could not ruffle his brow.

He asked Cheng Hanlin for a handkerchief, then, covering his hand, picked up the blood-soaked knife. "This is a ritual blade."

"Where’s that bald thief?" Haichao asked.

Before the words left her mouth, the monk yawned and entered, squinting at the corpse. "Oh? Killing’s already started?"

Haichao glared. "We were just about to ask you! Weren’t you keeping watch with him? Where did you go?"

The monk replied, "Is it not alright for me to step outside for a moment?"

Liang Ye asked, "Where did the blood on your robe come from?"

Haichao noticed the damp and dirty monk’s robe bore faint dark stains.

"I slipped and fell," the monk said, rolling up his sleeves to reveal some scrapes.

Liang Ye said, "You were gone for over an hour?"

The monk’s face showed surprise but he stubbornly denied it. "Who says I was gone that long?"

Liang Ye replied, "Judging from the corpse’s stiffness, he’s been dead at least an hour."

Haichao was surprised—how did he know this?

"Master left his post for over an hour. Why?" Liang Ye asked.

The monk tilted his head, seeming to give up. "You’re not officials; why interrogate me? I didn’t kill him. What’s it to you if I went out?"

"If not you, then who?" Haichao said.

The monk sneered, "MaybeI'm sorry, but I cannot assist with that request.