Chapter 63: Two Murderers

Two headless female corpses lay side by side in the morgue of the Ministry of Justice.

When Shen Qianmo followed Lu Ziqing into the morgue once more, she noticed that aside from Qin Niansheng, there was another man present—about fifty, stout, with small eyes and fleshy ears. After Qin Niansheng’s introduction, she learned his name was Feng Jin, a coroner temporarily assigned from the Grand Court of Justice at Lu Ziqing’s request.

It seemed Lu Ziqing, having had his pride wounded by Meng Yuanheng’s sharp tongue last time, dared not trouble Shen Qianmo easily again. Thus, he had humbled himself to borrow someone from the Grand Court. How short-handed must the Sheng Dynasty be for the future Minister of Justice himself to beg for help so humbly? Shen Qianmo found this secretly amusing.

Feng Jin, perhaps due to his borrowed status, was feeling quite self-important. Confident in his experience, he looked with open contempt at the delicate young woman Lu Ziqing had brought in.

“Lord Lu, are you mocking me? If you’re dissatisfied with my autopsy, at least bring someone competent—why bother with a little girl just to undermine me?”

Shen Qianmo raised her brows. This old man certainly had an air of arrogant self-assurance.

Given the scarcity of talent, Lu Ziqing was uncommonly tolerant with Feng Jin. “You worry too much, Coroner Feng. The last body was examined by Princess Xuan herself, so I especially invited her to offer her insights for your reference.”

So, the last corpse was indeed examined by this frail young lady? Feng Jin’s small eyes widened in surprise. If nothing else, the stitching after the autopsy alone betrayed a professional hand.

Who would have thought—a mere slip of a girl, yet so capable!

But why would the esteemed Princess Xuan soil her hands with the work of a coroner? Feng Jin couldn’t fathom it.

Shen Qianmo, not one for pleasantries, greeted Feng Jin and moved straight to the corpses to begin her examination.

Lu Ziqing, meanwhile, briefed her on the discovery of the bodies and the apprehension of the suspect.

“The bodies were found in the same lotus pond as last time. At dawn, a young eunuch on duty passed by and saw a man in black tossing something pale into the water. His cry drew the attention of the nearby guards, who pursued and caught the man in black on the spot.”

“He confessed?” Shen Qianmo asked as she inspected the bodies.

“Without hesitation,” Lu Ziqing replied, as grave as ever.

Shen Qianmo’s brow knit by habit. Everything seemed seamless, yet something about the case struck her as too neat.

On the surface, both murders appeared identical—decapitation with a sharp blade, and the words “Return my life” carved into the chest. The writing, purposefully crooked to disguise the handwriting, could easily have been made by the same person.

“Did both victims die from a silver needle to the heart?” Shen Qianmo noticed the chest had been stitched, suggesting Feng Jin had already performed an autopsy.

“Exactly,” Lu Ziqing replied.

Feng Jin interjected impatiently, “In my expert opinion, both crimes were committed in precisely the same fashion. It must be the same killer.”

How many times must he repeat himself for Lord Lu to believe it?

“Do you see it differently, Lord Lu?” Shen Qianmo asked, noting Lu Ziqing’s serious expression.

He had, after all, specifically called her here—he must harbor some doubts.

Lu Ziqing nodded. “It all seems too coincidental. Since the first maid’s death, the lotus pond has been heavily guarded. If the murderer intended to strike again, now would be the worst time.”

“So you suspect the man in black acted deliberately this time?” Shen Qianmo voiced the thought for him.

Lu Ziqing’s sharp eyes softened with admiration. This woman was perceptive and clear-minded—he felt he’d found a kindred spirit.

“Deliberately? What, is this murderer some madman, killing and dumping a body right under the patrol’s nose just to be caught?” Qin Niansheng asked, baffled.

Feng Jin, too, looked bewildered.

Shen Qianmo ignored their questions and bent over to carefully compare the two corpses.

Suddenly, a faint smile appeared on her lips. She looked to Lu Ziqing. “You’re right, Lord Lu.”

Her clear gaze and blooming smile made Lu Ziqing’s stern face freeze for a moment, his heart beating a little faster.

He frowned, suppressing the strange feeling, and asked coolly, “What have you discovered, Princess?”

Shen Qianmo pointed to the neck wounds. “The two victims were decapitated by different hands.”

All three men started at her words, immediately crowding closer for a look.

She explained, “From the force of the cut and the shape of the wound, the first killer was right-handed, the second left-handed.”

Pointed out by Shen Qianmo, they saw it was so.

“Where is the man in black being held?” she asked.

“In the Ministry prison,” Lu Ziqing replied.

“And his identity?”

“A palace guard.”

“Do we know who the two maids were?”

“They’ve been confirmed as maids assigned to clean the Cold Palace—backgrounds clean, nothing suspicious.”

It had taken time to confirm their identities, since Cold Palace maids were often overlooked in the palace hierarchy.

“If the man in black is left-handed, then he killed the second maid. But he must know who killed the first,” Shen Qianmo said calmly, her words carrying great weight.

But as they prepared to interrogate the suspect, news came from the prison—the man in black had bitten his tongue and died.

The prison was dark and grim.

Because the suspect was key to the palace murder case, Lu Ziqing had ordered him held alone under strict guard.

When Lu Ziqing hurried to the prison, the warden and guards were already kneeling in terror, awaiting punishment.

Lu Ziqing, known for his sternness and called “Blackface” behind his back, was nothing like the amiable Dong Runian—he ruled with an iron fist.

Now, the prisoner he’d ordered watched so closely had killed himself right under their noses. The guards felt desperate enough to die, trembling on their knees, praying the punishment wouldn’t be too cruel.

Lu Ziqing was furious, but seeing their plight, he could only feel helpless. The Ministry’s men had grown complacent. For a leader, having no capable subordinates was the greatest sorrow—no matter how hard you worked, it was useless.

Feeling a wave of desolation, he waved them up and had them recount what had happened.

Shen Qianmo followed Lu Ziqing into the cell.

The man in black lay flat on the ground, blood staining his mouth.

He was young, barely over twenty, with sharp features—a handsome man.

She crouched and checked; he was indeed dead.

To confirm her suspicion, she examined his hands. As expected—he was left-handed.

Yet, as often seen on the modern internet, it was all for nothing; once the man was dead, the trail was cold, and no deduction, however brilliant, could change that.

“Was there anything suspicious about this palace guard’s background?” Shen Qianmo asked as they left the prison.

“His name was Ding Yifei, from Shandong. He joined the Imperial Guards two years ago—quiet, competent, but nothing suspicious,” Lu Ziqing replied.

“And the Consort Li—any leads?” She still found Consort Li highly suspect.

“Her name is An Zhaorong, daughter of County Magistrate An Yuandao from Heyang. She entered the palace two years ago as a selected consort. I’ve already sent people to Heyang to investigate; we should have news soon.” The mention of Consort Li’s status drew exhaustion over Lu Ziqing’s face.

Two years ago as well? Shen Qianmo caught the detail—could the man in black have some connection to Consort Li, protecting her at the cost of his life?

She didn’t voice her suspicion. As a professional forensic examiner, her duty was to speak for the dead, to give evidence, not to muddy investigations with conjecture.

She trusted Lu Ziqing’s professionalism—anything she could deduce, he likely could as well.

Still, seeing his weary face, she felt a pang of sympathy. As the Prime Minister’s son, so young and already in high office, with countless eyes watching for his misstep, the pressure he bore was unimaginable.

As they reached the Ministry’s gate, she took the opportunity to say a few words of comfort.

“I remember an expert once said, ‘There is always only one truth. However difficult the case, the truth will out in the end. So, Lord Lu, do not worry too much. So long as you have a clear conscience, it is enough. If you need my help in the future, I will do all I can.’”

Forgive me, Detective Conan, for borrowing your words, she thought wryly.

Her calm words struck Lu Ziqing like thunder, stirring his heart.

As the eldest of the Lu family, for over twenty years his life had been shaped by his father’s severity, his mother’s expectations, his siblings’ reliance, the weight of family, and the watchful eyes of rivals. Never had anyone told him, “I will help you.”

They all believed that someone as strong as Lu Ziqing needed no help.

But now, this gentle, delicate woman looked at him with unwavering resolve and promised to stand by him.

In that instant, the defenses he’d painstakingly built these past days collapsed. He mustered all his self-control to keep his feelings from showing, his voice hoarse as he said, “Thank you… for your concern.”

He suddenly wished to address her by name, not as Princess Xuan, but the words caught in his throat.

Shen Qianmo, unaware of his inner turmoil, saw her words as mere encouragement between colleagues. She bid him a calm farewell, climbed into the Ministry’s carriage, and departed.

Watching her carriage disappear, Lu Ziqing let himself gaze after her, reluctant to look away.

Such a unique and brilliant woman—there could be no other like her in the world. He was not a man of tender emotions; to him, women were mere ornaments, career always came first. Besides, she was long betrothed to Prince Xuan—it would be unthinkable to harbor feelings for her. Was he to become another Feng Ze?

Yet, why, when facing her, did his heart always stir beyond his control?