Chief Constable Wang sat at the head of the table, wearing a stern expression and saying nothing.
These days, the first thing Magistrate Zhu did upon rising was demand an update on the case. Whenever Chief Constable Wang had nothing useful to report, the magistrate would let loose a stream of curses. All the pressure fell squarely on the chief constable's shoulders. While his subordinates sheltered under his protection, none of them shared his burden—some even contradicted him openly!
Wang had every right to be angry. He felt he was shouldering a weight no one his age ought to bear.
Seated at a nearby table, Xu Qian'an pored over the case files intently, surrounded by colleagues who exchanged silent, wary glances. Xu's strategy was straightforward: the best way to pacify Old Wang was to solve the case. If that failed, he could always treat the chief to a visit to Peach Blossom Cave—after all, they'd known each other for years, and their friendship was solid. Besides, Xu's opposition to "fishing for a scapegoat" wasn't just about principle; he genuinely wanted to ease Wang's burden.
[The deceased is Zhang Yourui, 51 years old, a wealthy man residing on Kangping Street. He owns over ten hectares of prime farmland outside Changle County and three shops in the capital, selling silk, cosmetics, and sundries. His first wife died young, and he later married a respectable woman twenty years his junior. Zhang has one son, born to his late first wife, and no other children.]
Twenty years younger—an old man with a young bride, a "pear tree shading a crabapple," as the saying went… Xu Qian'an stifled a snort. Was this the real-life version of "if you work hard to make money, your future wife might still be in kindergarten"?
[Four days ago, Zhang Yourui returned home from collecting rent in the countryside around the third hour of the night (3–5 a.m.). His sleeping wife suddenly heard a cry of agony and rushed out to find Zhang dead in the courtyard. She saw a shadow scaling the wall and fleeing…]
That was the gist of the incident.
When Xu Qian'an saw the coroner's report, another question mark tugged at him. He forced himself to continue, flipping through the testimonies of the deceased's family and servants before closing his eyes to piece together the threads.
Chief Constable Wang let out a snort and sneered, "Pray tell, Constable Xu—who is the murderer, and where might we find them?"
"Hold your horses, Chief," Xu said, opening his eyes. "In the files, it mentions footprints on the outer wall of Zhang Manor. You deduced the thief scaled the wall to escape, so the young mistress's account holds. The footprints faced outward, meaning they were left during the getaway."
Wang grunted in affirmation.
"Why were there footprints at all?" Xu pressed.
"Because the soles had mud."
"Why mud?"
"The wall base is a flower bed."
Xu nodded. "Then why are there no footprints of someone entering the courtyard?"
Wang froze.
In the silence, other constables, sensing their chief's loss of face, chimed in. "Maybe the thief noticed the flower bed when entering and avoided leaving traces," one offered. Another added, "But after the murder, he was in a rush to escape and stepped carelessly."
Xu swept a glance over them. "Possible. But the flower bed lies beneath the wall. If the thief could leap over it without leaving footprints when entering—a feat of lightness requiring significant skill—why would he need to brace his foot against the wall when fleeing?"
The group exchanged glances, speechless. Xu didn't need their answers; the truth was simpler: they hadn't checked.
"Ning Yan, what's the point of nitpicking this?" someone protested.
Ignoring them, Xu turned to the frowning Wang and continued, "The deceased died from a blunt-force trauma to the back of the head, correct?"
Wang nodded. "Instantaneous."
"My question is—why a blunt weapon? A murderer would carry a blade or sword for a cleaner kill. Why use something clumsy?"
The side hall fell silent. Clearly, this had occurred to no one until now. Xiao Li ventured, "Maybe the thief didn't intend to kill at first?"
"Wrong!" This time, it was Wang who interjected, rising with a start. "A single blow to the back of the head to kill— that's premeditated." He sank back into his chair, muttering, "Yes… why blunt instead of sharp?"
"Unless the killer didn't have a proper weapon at hand," Xu said.
Wang's eyes lit up, as if grasping a thread but not the whole tapestry.
"One last thing that concerns me," Xu said, glancing at the file. "When the family was brought in for questioning, Madame Zhang fainted from prolonged kneeling. The doctor found she's pregnant."
"A posthumous child," someone murmured.
"Poor thing—fatherless before birth." The onlookers chimed in, irritating Xu with their interjections.
"Madame Zhang has been married to the deceased for nearly a decade. Why conceive now?" Xu waited for silence to resume. "What if the child isn't his?"
In a healthy couple, a decade without children suggested deliberate birth control or infertility. Ancient treatments for such issues were rare and ineffective.
Wang's breathing hitched. "Ning Yan—spell it out. Clearly."
Xu sipped tea. "Perhaps this isn't a burglary at all, but a crime of passion. Madame Zhang was having an affair, either with an outsider or the deceased's son. They took advantage of his absence to meet. When he returned early and caught them, the lover grabbed a vase or other blunt object in a fit of rage and struck him down.
"Madame Zhang and her lover rushed to stage the scene, dragging the body to the courtyard to pretend it was a burglary. The lover had scouted the area beforehand, knowing the night patrol schedule to avoid the Imperial Guards. A real thief would've waited until the deceased converted rent silver into banknotes—easier to carry. Madame Zhang's story uses the rent collection as a smokescreen, steering us toward 'robbery' as motive."
The roomful of constables stared, slack-jawed.
"You… you deduced the killer just from the files?"
"Ning Yan, this isn't a joke—don't spout nonsense."
"But… doesn't it make sense?"
Xu's reasoning left them with one thought: impressive though confusing.
"I'm only piecing together details and guessing. It needs verification," Xu told the astounded group. Solving a case required collecting clues, reasoning, and proof.
The thief evading patrols… the odd timing… blunt weapon use… Madame Zhang's pregnancy—these fragments, under Xu's scrutiny, wove into a logical narrative. Wang felt his career outlook shift. Taking a deep breath, one question nagged: "Why suspect the son as the lover?"
"Two reasons." Xu sipped tea leisurely, savoring their eager stares. "First, in his testimony, the son, Zhang Xian, claimed he was reviewing accounts in his study that night, not sleeping with his wife. Awake and alert, how could he hear nothing from the courtyard? Madame Zhang was roused by a cry—so the noise was loud. A wakeful man missing that? Plausible?"
He paused. "Second, if there are no entry footprints in the flower bed, the 'thief' may not exist. That makes the son a prime suspect."
A lightbulb moment.
Wang exclaimed, "So the wall footprints were planted to mislead us."
Xu nodded. "Yes. We should compare them to the son's boots."
"Surely he wouldn't leave his own prints," Wang said.
Xu grinned, laying on the flattery: "Chief, your insight is unmatched. A true prodigy of the Dafeng constabulary."
After his lengthy, impressive deduction, Xu's sudden flattering was seamless—Wang's weathered face broke into a wide smile, his ego thoroughly stroked.
"I'll report to Magistrate Zhu at once. Ready yourselves—we're revisiting Zhang Manor." Wang's excitement was palpable as he jabbed a finger at Xu, emitting a hearty laugh before dashing to the back chambers.