Chapter 27

Once their plan was set, Xie Ci departed at once. Qin Wenxuan summoned the only remaining young servant at the front gate, dressed him in Gu Wan’s clothes, and had him wear a battered cotton cap to pose as her. Xie Ci, taking the disguised servant along, wheeled away the emptied cart through the back door.

Handing the door bolt to Gu Wan, Qin Wenxuan clung tightly to her hand, anxiety written all over her face. “Gu Elder Sister, what should we do?!”

“Don’t panic, let’s start with our disguises,” Gu Wan replied calmly. She pulled Qin Wenxuan back to the main room, set up the dressing mirror, and opened her large traveling bundle, arranging jars and boxes in quick succession. Half an hour later, the reflection in the mirror showed a face nearly identical to Qin Wenxuan’s—so alike, they could have been twin sisters.

Next, Gu Wan sat Qin Wenxuan down before the vanity and, recalling the details, transformed her into the half-grown servant boy from earlier. Though the resemblance wasn’t perfect and the height was a bit off, it was enough for their purposes.

Qin Wenxuan was dumbfounded; even in her agitation, she was stunned into silence. Such miraculous disguise skills she had only read about in storybooks, never truly believing them real. “Gu Elder Sister, this, this…”

She reached tentatively toward her face, but hesitated to touch it. Gu Wan said, “Let’s rest for the night, regain our strength, and head to Lingzhou military camp at dawn.”

The preliminary hearing was scheduled for the next day, surely after the yamen’s official opening hours. Gu Wan dared not cut it close—missing it would be disastrous. After reassuring Qin Wenxuan, they left their disguises untouched, briefly checked that Qin Wenxuan’s mother was not in immediate danger, then found a room to rest. Gu Wan, knowing a fierce battle awaited, fell asleep quickly. Qin Wenxuan, after settling her younger brother, lay restless and sleepless.

Before dawn, the two rose. Gu Wan refreshed their makeup and dressed them in Qin Wenxuan’s clothing and accessories, while Qin Wenxuan donned the servant’s attire. Once curfew lifted, they set out immediately.

They went straight to the Lingzhou military camp, stationing themselves across the street from the main gate. They waited until the sun rose. Around the hour of Chen, a loud gong sounded—“Bang!”—clearing the way as an eight-bearer vermilion palanquin, surrounded by imperial guards, emerged at the far end of the street. Crimson, gold, purple, and ochre banners fluttered in the wind; the full ceremonial retinue advanced to the camp’s main gate.

This was the imperial envoy bearing the Emperor’s sword, here to conduct an investigation on behalf of the throne. All Lingzhou’s ranking officers, save those already detained, were assembled at the gate to receive him.

The envoy did not disembark; his party entered swiftly.

Gu Wan hurriedly pulled Qin Wenxuan forward—they had to get inside before the preliminary hearing began. The camp was a military stronghold, especially on such a day. The guards quickly barred their way. “You cannot enter!”

“Why not?!” Gu Wan shouted. “This is the preliminary hearing of the case. Are family members not allowed to attend? What if there’s a wrongful conviction from forced confessions? I protest! I must go in! Even the yamen allows the public to observe for the sake of justice!”

Her voice rang out, shrill with urgency. The crowd behind them stirred; public opinion on the Qin family case was at a fever pitch, and the street opposite the gate was bustling, tea houses and inns packed. Seeing Gu Wan rush forward, many began to follow.

The gate guards were in a difficult position. The Lingzhou soldiers had a different, more direct impression of Qin Xian and his son than the rumors outside—most were still incredulous about the charges, and did not hold a bad view of Qin Wenxuan.

After some back-and-forth, the officer on duty finally relented. “Let them in!” he commanded.

A junior officer led them toward the main hall. Along the way, he seemed as though he wanted to speak but said nothing; the camp’s mood was too unsettled. He brought them to a spot in the center of the main building, from which they could see the ceremonial guards and imperial troops at the hall’s entrance. He slipped them into an adjacent meeting room with a side door leading to the main hall. In a low voice, he instructed, “Stand on the side and listen. Don’t go further in, and keep quiet.”

Gu Wan nodded fervently.

She looked up. The hall was vast, capable of holding over a hundred officers for major military briefings. The left wall displayed seventy-two military regulations in bold script, each character clear; the right wall hung a map of the northern borderlands, the frontier line traced in thick black, the territory of Great Wei sprawling like a leaping tiger. White walls, black pillars, racks of sharp weapons along both sides—nothing ostentatious, but severe, solemn, and imposing. The military discipline under General Qin Xian was evident.

Yet now, this grand hall would try its former commander.

Gu Wan and Qin Wenxuan arrived at the side door just as the hearing began. Upon the main seat behind the tiger-head table sat a young eunuch in a crimson qilin robe, speaking: “By order of the Son of Heaven, I am here to investigate the Lingzhou case. Let us begin.”

The hall was ringed by armed imperial guards. Gu Wan and Qin Wenxuan could only stand outside their circle, arriving just as the envoy spoke. Many in attendance glanced at the newcomers but said nothing.

A minor official whispered in the envoy’s ear; others from outside Lingzhou did likewise. The envoy waved dismissively, unconcerned.

Gu Wan and her companion, their fists clenched in anxiety, let out a shaky breath.

The evidence procession began—witnesses and exhibits were presented one after another. Finally, seven or eight dozen charred, frozen corpses were laid out.

Aside from the envoy seated behind the tiger-head table, several smaller chairs were set at the foot of the dais. On the rightmost was a square-faced man of thirty-five or thirty-six, clad in the armor of a high-ranking Jinwu Guard, a second-rank official’s sash at his waist. This was Prince Lin Shaoxuan, third prince’s maternal uncle, son of the all-powerful Prime Minister Lin Wenfu.

He himself had the titles of General Who Guards the Nation and Minister of War, known as the Imperial Uncle Lin.

Lin was tasked with investigating the northern border smuggling case; he had spent half the past year on the frontier. It was he who had gathered the evidence and witnesses, arrested Qin Xian and his officers, and reported to the court.

At the sight of this man, Qin Wenxuan’s eyes blazed with hatred.

Imperial Uncle Lin sat at the foremost seat. When all evidence was presented, he clapped, and his clerk brought forth the original autopsy and testimony records.

Evidence had been submitted with the initial report, but those were compiled; now the originals were in the envoy’s hands. He perused them slowly.

Lin stood. “The evidence is complete and airtight. Last month, in Fanyang, I again found signs of dealings between the northern tribes and our own, tracing them to Lingzhou. At Dashukeng, I found their tracks—only to discover the Lingzhou patrol had already been massacred and burned by a hastily assembled force of Great Wei cavalry, including some of my own men!

“And only the Lingzhou cavalry could have arrived so quickly. Investigation revealed that Governor Qin Xian, Major General Pang Mingzhi, and Baron Zhao Yin of Xiangyang are prime suspects!”

He turned sharply, voice cold. “Yet my investigation suggests Pang and Zhao are less likely; those who colluded in smuggling and treason are likely Qin Xian and his son!”

Witnesses were called; evidence from all over, including official testimonies from various provinces and military units. The scope and detail made widespread bribery or fabrication unlikely.

Lin’s actions seemed impartial, relying on evidence alone. Whether he was truly unbiased or part of a larger conspiracy remained unknown.

Qin Wenxuan gripped Gu Wan’s hand tightly, watching as the evidence was displayed. Finally, Qin Xian’s trusted lieutenant, Dou Wu, was summoned. “What order did you hear from Governor Qin that day?” Lin demanded.

Dou Wu clenched his jaw. Others had been present, so he could not deny it. “…I heard the governor order a patrol to investigate a disturbance northwest. He then issued orders for a battalion of cavalry to proceed.”

The northern tribes launched raids every few years; lately, their movements had increased, signaling another major incursion. Their forces were gathering in the south, and disturbances were frequent—sometimes several per day. Dou Wu hadn’t thought much of it. After Qin Xian gave the order, the Feiyu Battalion was dispatched. These were Qin Xian’s personal cavalry. Messengers soon reported a large seizure of goods. The garrison, recognizing their own troops, allowed them to bring the goods inside, not suspecting anything amiss.

Qin Xian, realizing a smuggling line had been uncovered, was both shocked and furious. But his men then ran into Lin’s agents and the second patrol, and chaos ensued.

Now, sunlight glittered off the snow and the steps outside, but the northern wind still howled through the open doors, whipping the cloaks of the guards and of Gu Wan and Qin Wenxuan. But no one spared any thought for the cold.

Evidence was presented in wave after wave—even Li Yi had finished testifying. Only then did Gu Wan notice, on the leftmost chair, the man who had been sitting with his back to her. Lin had summoned him from Guzhou last month. With the northern tribes marching south, Guzhou was on the front lines. The governor could not leave, so Lin asked Prince Xiao Shan, Li Yi, now acting as commander in Guzhou, to attend.

Li Yi’s tone was measured and precise, recounting Lin’s activities during his visit to Guzhou—no more, no less. He spoke with meticulous objectivity, using cautious language for anything he had not witnessed. He glanced at Gu Wan and Qin Wenxuan, but did not recognize them in disguise. For Qin Xian, he felt some regret, but this was not a mess he could wade into.

He cast a glance outside—perhaps thinking of Xie Ci.

At last, Li Yi bowed. “Lord Feng, I have said all I know.”

The presiding official was Feng Kun, the most trusted eunuch of the Emperor, about thirty, his skin pale, features delicate, but his phoenix eyes exceptionally striking and sharp. He lounged in his seat, sipping from a blue-and-white teacup. “You generals, always colluding with the northern tribes—such audacity.”

He tossed the original testimony onto the table and gestured for the proceedings to continue.

The last to appear were the coroners. Both the Ministry of Justice and Lingzhou authorities had sent coroners. They brought forth a sample corpse. Lingzhou’s were two middle-aged officials; one around forty, the other nearly fifty with a goatee. They bowed respectfully. “Reporting to the envoy: we have examined one hundred and two bodies. Most were burned and curled, with many showing fatal blade wounds to the throat or abdomen, but only about half. The other half had severe but not immediately fatal injuries, and when we opened their mouths and noses, we found soot—thus, we concluded they were doused with oil and burned, then strangled as the fire spread. The attackers withdrew quickly, and the wounded died in the flames.”

They displayed one such body. In the winter cold, corpses were well preserved. The coroner uncovered the mouth and nose; an assistant used a cloth to cover his own face and examined the body, then nodded—soot was present, and not merely sprinkled there.

A young Ministry of Justice coroner, about twenty, also bowed. “I have dissected many bodies with the Lingzhou coroners. The findings match exactly what is described in the ‘Compendium of Doubtful Cases’ regarding deaths in fires. I concur with their assessment.”

—A sudden cavalry raid, the patrol overwhelmed and slaughtered, all witnesses burned to erase evidence.

The logic seemed unassailable.

As the coroners finished, the hearing neared its conclusion—the verdict was about to be pronounced.

But—wait! What about the Feiyu Battalion cavalry? Weren’t they the ones sent out? Shouldn’t they testify? And just because there was soot in the mouth and nose didn’t mean the victims were burned alive—they could have been semi-conscious or poisoned!

Gu Wan waited anxiously for this moment. She shoved aside the guards and rushed forward. Damn it, if she didn’t act now, the case would be closed!

She knew nothing of the intricate investigation, only that this was her chance. Qin Wenxuan had been desperate to dash out, but Gu Wan held her back until now. Qin Wenxuan, disguised as a servant, dared not speak, only clutching at Gu Wan.

The patrol’s death was crucial—this blame must not fall on Qin Xian and his son! Once they were sent to the capital for retrial, the well-preserved bodies would not survive the journey. By then, all evidence would be lost.

This was their only chance—here and now!

Their sudden dash caused a commotion. The guards hurried to restrain them, but Gu Wan and Qin Wenxuan braced themselves.

Lin frowned. “Qin Xian’s daughter?”

He gestured; the guards glanced at the envoy, who nodded. The guards released them but remained close.

Lin continued, unhurried, “Before we arrived, the Feiyu Battalion’s captains and deputy officers all committed suicide out of guilt.”

Those with authority had all taken their own lives. The ordinary cavalrymen, confused and frightened, claimed they’d acted only on orders to suppress a treasonous patrol. They insisted they hadn’t killed everyone or set the fires, and that they’d pursued the retreating enemy instead.

As for the five dead officers, some of the cavalry hadn’t even noticed whether their superiors were with them throughout.

—This was consistent with military protocol: ordinary soldiers receive orders from their superiors, and only in morale-boosting situations are orders announced publicly. For secretive or sensitive missions, instructions are passed down the chain of command.

Gu Wan understood: this critical link was missing. With the logic chain complete, the ordinary cavalry might be disciplined, but the five officers were labeled as suicides out of guilt.

She seized the moment. “If the captains committed suicide, the patrol corpses are still here, aren’t they?!”

She drew a deep breath and shouted at the young Ministry coroner, “Cut open the windpipe—now! If they were poisoned or deeply unconscious, there will be soot in the mouth and nose but not in the trachea—maybe just a little! But a grievously wounded, struggling person would have soot deep in the windpipe as well!”

She tried to rush forward; the guards stopped her, but she yelled hoarsely. The young coroner hesitated, then stepped up, took a scalpel, and deftly cut open the windpipe. He peered inside and exclaimed, “It’s clean! Only the very front has a tiny bit of fine black ash—very little, very little!”

Hearing this, Gu Wan’s heart finally settled—she’d guessed right!

She pressed on, “If they were grievously wounded and struggling, they would be gasping and inhaling forcefully—even if unconscious, their bodies would struggle. In that case, soot would not just be in the mouth and nose! Soot only at the lips and in the upper trachea means they were already near death, deeply unconscious, perfectly still. Both conditions must be present!”

Gu Wan had questioned Qin Wenxuan carefully the previous night and deduced that the conspirators took advantage of an information gap. Whether Lin was complicit or not, the plotters would use crossed signals: lure Qin Xian with a false alarm (such incidents happened often), then exploit the narrow window between the patrol’s discovery and the cavalry’s arrival. It had to be a short interval—if the cavalry arrived too soon, they’d prevent the enemy’s escape; too late, and the real patrol would arrive. She had confirmed this through the testimonies.

Therefore, to slaughter and burn the patrol so quickly, some means must have been used—drugs or poison in their food or water, precisely timed.

The young coroner quickly checked several more bodies: all the same!

Gu Wan pointed at the two older coroners, her voice sharp. “You’ve been coroners for years—you know this phenomenon! Yet you said nothing! What are you hiding—?”

Although the famous forensic manual ‘The Washing Away of Wrongs’ had yet to be compiled in this era, forensic knowledge was not new. The older coroners would have learned from experience over the years.

Their faces turned ashen.

So did Lin and the others.

Gu Wan drew another deep breath and shouted, “I believe in General Qin! Clearly, the order was switched en route, the goal being to frame him—please, Lord Envoy, see the truth!”

“Please, Lord Envoy, see the truth!” Qin Wenxuan was so moved she dropped to her knees.

The hall fell silent as a grave. Li Yi was surprised; Gu Wan met his gaze for a moment, nervous, but he said nothing.

Gu Wan relaxed a little—but only a little. The outcome depended on the envoy’s judgment. He could have them dragged out and beaten for disrupting the court if he wished.

But fortunately, the envoy was not part of the conspiracy. He wasn’t especially close to Lin, even if they’d spoken cordially before the hearing.

Feng Kun was the Emperor’s most trusted eunuch, Minister of the Inner Palace, Grand Marshal, and peer to Lin Wenfu in power. He had no reason to fear Lin; if anything, Lin had to show him respect.

This young official in his gold and crimson robe slowly raised his eyes—his pale, delicate features dominated by those striking, languid, yet sharp phoenix eyes.

He spoke unhurriedly. “What the Qin girl says is indeed reasonable.”

Thinking it over, it was true.

He said, “In that case, these deaths were not caused by the Feiyu cavalry. There are many hidden layers to this case.” The near-certainty of Qin Xian’s guilt was immediately dispelled.

“Is there anything else to add? If not, we’ll end here for today.”

Feng Kun announced the close of the preliminary hearing. Proceedings would resume the next day.

He rose, followed by the ceremonial retinue.

Qin Wenxuan, drained, nearly pulled Gu Wan’s trousers off as she collapsed. Gu Wan barely managed to steady her.

Her own legs were weak.

Gu Wan exhaled deeply, but the matter was not over. If the hearing didn’t fully clear their names, Qin Xian and the other suspects would be sent to the capital for trial. With the region in a state of military alert, removing Qin Xian would mean turning over command—a disaster, regardless of whether the review ultimately exonerated him. That was not Xie Ci and Gu Wan’s intention.

But she had done all she could.

Her heart pounded. “Now it’s up to him.”

Up to Xie Ci.

In this situation, the only way—indeed, the best and only way—was to quickly catch the true smuggler, secure his confession, and clear the others’ names.

Her intervention had merely bought time.

Now, everything depended on Xie Ci.