"Hurry up!"
In the backyard of Prince Xian's manor.
A man in servant's attire pushed open the slightly ajar back door and muttered to the dark alley behind him.
Soon, as his words fell, a man in opera costume appeared near the back door.
"My goodness, why are you wearing that costume? You should have changed," the man in servant's attire couldn't help but frown upon seeing the other's attire.
"Don't mention it. Someone with no conscience spilled water all over my clothes. I had nothing to wear, and I was afraid of missing our appointment, so I just grabbed whatever was at hand," the man replied.
The servant seemed helpless, shot him a glance, and muttered, "It's better if you miss it," before leading the man into Prince Xian's manor.
"We agreed you would only go to the servants' rooms. You can't wander anywhere else, and you must not cause trouble!" the servant warned, leading him forward, clearly worried about the other causing trouble.
"I know. As long as you take me to see Ping'er, our accounts will be settled," the man patted his chest and guaranteed.
As they spoke, they stopped at a servants' room. The servant pointed to one of the houses in a row and said, "The person is in there. Don't wander off."
The man nodded, thanked the servant, a smug grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, and walked into the room indicated by the servant.
With a clear knock on the door.
A groggy female voice answered from within, "Who is it?"
Upon hearing the voice, the man bared his teeth and said, "Ping'er, it's me, Yuan Shang!"
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"Ah!!"
In Prince Xian's manor one morning, a heart-wrenching scream woke everyone sleeping in the manor.
Steward Zhu, leading the guards, rushed to the room from where the scream originated. As the door to Lu Wuxie's study was pushed open, the sight of a male corpse hanging from a beam, clad in opera costume, filled their vision. Xing'er lay on the ground, her eyes wide with terror as she stared at the male corpse. Around her were shattered porcelain and teacups.
"This... this..."
"Is this the heir?"
"No way?"
"Idiot! What are you babbling about? Can't you see that's not the heir's face!" Steward Zhu roared angrily at the guards behind him, who were stunned and speaking incoherently after being frightened.
With that roar, the terrified Xing'er came to her senses, and two streams of tears rolled down her cheeks.
Seeing her extreme fright, Steward Zhu quickly ordered the people around him, "Go help her up, send her back to the Princess's room, and notify the Dali Temple. Quickly!"
As soon as he spoke, three guards behind him sprang into action.
An hour later.
Zhong Li stood at the door of Lu Wuxie's study in Prince Xian's manor, gazing at the scene within, truly shocked.
Lu Wuxie's study was already large and spacious. With just one person hanging in the room, anyone pushing the door too forcefully would truly be startled.
Lan Heng was busy sketching the scene. Zhong Li knew it wasn't time to enter the scene yet, so she turned and walked towards the sobbing little maid, Xing'er, who was weeping not far away.
"Xing'er," she called out, raising an eyebrow slightly.
Xing'er, upon hearing her name, turned and met Zhong Li's gaze.
"Zhong Gong..." Xing'er realized she had called out the wrong title and corrected herself, "Miss Zhong."
Zhong Li nodded, pointing to the shattered teacups, withered tea leaves, and a few exquisitely crafted small pastries on the floor of the room, "Did you do that?"
Xing'er nodded and explained, "The Princess asked me to deliver them. She said the heir must have suffered yesterday at Dali Temple, and since he returned late and didn't rest well, she asked me to bring him tea and pastries this morning to check on him."
"Then why didn't you go to the bedroom to find the heir, but came to the study?" Zhong Li asked again.
"I did go to the bedroom earlier. I knocked, but no one answered, so I came to the study to find the heir," Xing'er replied truthfully.
"What time was it when you went to the bedroom?"
Xing'er sniffled, her crying voice thick, and after thinking for a moment, she replied, "The third quarter of Mao hour."
Upon hearing this time, Zhong Li's eyebrows slightly rose.
Then she continued to ask, "And to the study?"
"The beginning of the second quarter of Mao hour," Xing'er said again.
"From the third quarter of Mao hour to the beginning of the second quarter of Mao hour, there are about three cups of tea. It only takes half a cup of tea from the heir's room to the study. Where did you go during this time?" Zhong Li asked after a moment of thought.
"Miss Zhong, are you suspecting me?" Xing'er was startled. The tears she had just held back instantly welled up again. "I knocked on the door for a long time. I thought the heir hadn't woken up yet, so I waited by the door for a while. After about a cup of tea, I felt the tea was getting cold, so I went to the small kitchen to warm it up. When I returned, I knocked on the heir's room again. Seeing that he still didn't answer, I came to the study.
Who knew the study door was ajar. I thought the heir was inside, so I called out. When the heir didn't respond, I braced myself and went in, only to find... to find..." Xing'er's voice trailed off, her emotions getting the better of her, and she began to sob again, completely terrified.
Zhong Li glanced back at a constable following behind her. Seeing him nod, she said, "There are indeed traces of burning firewood in the small kitchen." She then put her doubts aside.
While Zhong Li was questioning Xing'er, Lan Heng had already sketched the hanging situation of the male corpse in the room.
"Li'er," he said, walking up to her and handing her the sketch.
Zhong Li looked at the scene in the painting and frowned, "My lord, this person..."
"Indeed, there is something wrong with the person hanging. Judging by the person's height and the stool beneath their feet, it should not be a simple case of suicide by hanging. However, this is only a deduction based on common circumstances. The conclusion can only be made after Li'er conducts the autopsy."
Lan Heng said, pointing at the kicked stool in the painting.
Generally, a normal person hanging themselves from a beam would first place a stool, stand on it, measure the distance from the beam to their neck, tie the knot, and then kick the stool away. However, the situation of the deceased in Lu Wuxie's study was particularly unusual.
The ceiling beam was about ten feet high. The man was quite tall, just under six feet four inches. The stool was about one foot eight inches high, and the rope was three feet three inches long. Subtracting the height of the man's head and his thirteen-inch feet, it was calculated that the man had squatted on the stool, put the rope around his neck, and hanged himself.
While this was plausible, it was, by normal logic, a rather bizarre way for the deceased to die.
Zhong Li nodded, picked up a small box placed aside, put on a mask and gloves, and entered the room.
Perhaps because a person had died in Lu Wuxie's study, it felt unusually dim today, whereas in her memory, it was usually bright and sunny.
She surveyed the room. Between the two rows of shelves and desks, Lu Wuxie's own portrait still hung. Opposite it was a screen, and behind the screen was an Arhat bed, where Lu Wuxie spent most of his rest time when he was in the study.
As for anything else.
She looked at a dried, water-like stain by the screen and her brows furrowed slightly.
"Miss Zhong, the body is over here," someone's reminder pulled her out of her confused thoughts.
Zhong Li turned back, the male corpse's legs dangling behind her.
She didn't ask the other Dali Temple constables for help in bringing down the body. Instead, she looked up at the male corpse hanging in mid-air. As her gaze fell upon the face of the male corpse, her heart skipped a beat. This person... she had seen him yesterday at the Huanxi Tower.