Chapter Six: Shen Changbai

The room was enveloped in silence.

A faint hissing sound arose as Gao Zhuang placed the intelligence report over the candle flame, burning it to ashes. With a flick of his true essence, he ignited the ashes once more, ensuring utter destruction before he finally spoke. “How many elixirs have you brought today, nephew?”

The raven, seeing he had mastered their usual routine, nodded with satisfaction. Without further ado, it spat out two round pills with a pair of soft, popping sounds.

“Two ‘Harmonious Wind and Encountering Moon’ pills, for the Nascent Void stage.”

Gao Zhuang quickly calculated their value. “Five hundred spirit stones.”

“Eight hundred.”

“Six hundred.”

“Seven hundred. Not a stone less.”

“Deal!”

The raven raised its head and opened its beak, revealing a spatial pouch within. With a pained look, Gao Zhuang counted out seven hundred spirit stones, dividing them into two piles—three hundred in one, four hundred in the other. The larger pile was poured directly into the raven’s mouth; the smaller was tucked into the pouch.

“I don’t understand, nephew. Why do you always split the spirit stones into two portions?” Gao Zhuang asked.

The raven hopped as if to help the stones settle, and replied, “What if something happens to this raven? I can’t put all my wealth in one basket. It’s the usual arrangement—leave the pouch on the windowsill early tomorrow, and I’ll come to collect it.”

…With caution like yours, it’s hard to imagine anything ever happening to you.

“It’s a pity you don’t go into business, nephew,” Gao Zhuang remarked.

The raven shook its head. “Such dealings are perilous; a single misstep and it’s utter ruin.”

Gao Zhuang couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ve never met anyone as cautious as you.”

The raven sighed. “You’re mistaken, uncle. Every day, countless battles are fought over rare treasures. Anyone who survives is more cautious than I am. Do you have any other instructions? If not, I’ll take my leave.”

At this, Gao Zhuang recalled his main errand. “Actually, there is a task. News just arrived: the Brocade-Clad Historians plan to rescue Shen Changbai. Your job is to keep an eye on him. If there’s any sign of movement, inform me immediately.”

“Shen Changbai—the Prefect Shen?”

In recent days, though Lu Zhou had little direct contact with Prefect Shen, he had noticed that Shen rarely left his residence except for official duties, living more secluded than a noble lady. What could be the problem with such a man?

Gao Zhuang explained, “Shen Changbai is the nephew of Shen Ruoxu, an elder of the Orthodox Academy—the greatest sect in Southern Zhou. Shen Ruoxu is a man of immense influence, whose every word shakes the court. His nephew, however, defected to the Northern Kingdom. Naturally, Shen Ruoxu couldn’t tolerate this, yet it happened nonetheless.

According to reports, when Shen Changbai realized Shenzhou City would fall, he immediately sent for help from the Academy. Now, it appears his surrender to the North was a delaying tactic, waiting for his uncle to rescue him. Who would have thought this wait would last ten years? Perhaps Shen Ruoxu meant to plant his nephew in Shenzhou all along, but for some reason, now wishes to bring him back—thus, the rescue plan.

It’s just a pity the man they hope to rescue is an imposter, a pawn placed by the Northern Kingdom. Southern Zhou stands on the brink. North and South Zhou share a fate, so we cannot watch Southern Zhou fall. As for informing the Brocade-Clad Historians… well, they must be willing to listen.”

…

Lu Zhou’s days now alternated between the Prefectural Office and the Fragrant Pavilion, with the added task of monitoring Shen Changbai. After several days’ observation, nothing seemed amiss. Shen Changbai kept to his routines—official duties and then retreating to his study. Whenever Lu Zhou tried to strike up a conversation, Shen Changbai would deftly evade him. But with repeated attempts, Lu Zhou managed to become a familiar face. He soon noticed that Shen Changbai was making a deliberate effort to avoid him.

One day, after roll call, boredom drove Lu Zhou to counting the hairs on his brush. Noticing Lu Zhou’s distraction, Prefect Shen quietly tried to slip outside. Yet Shen’s eyes, sharp as brushes dipped in sauce, swept over Lu Zhou time and again.

Just as Shen reached the door, Lu Zhou’s voice called out, “Prefect, do you have business outside?”

This hardly sounded like subordinate addressing superior; one might think Lu Zhou was the prefect himself!

Yet Shen Changbai showed no displeasure. “Yes, I have matters to attend to.”

“Might I inquire what business calls you, sir?” Lu Zhou pressed.

Shen hesitated, realizing he couldn’t avoid the question. “The constables just reported: an old man in the southern part of the city was found dead at home. I intend to investigate.”

Lu Zhou resumed his seat. “Who is the deceased?”

“A man in his sixties.”

Lu Zhou’s eyes twinkled. He already knew that a homicide involving an old man was hardly worth the personal attention of a prefect. Shen’s unusual eagerness was suspicious, but Lu Zhou didn’t voice this. Instead, he asked, “Is it related to cultivators?”

Shen pondered briefly, then shook his head. “I don’t think so. The constables reported an ordinary sickle wound… Do you have any further questions, Captain Lu?”

“No more,” said Lu Zhou.

“Then I’ll take my leave.”

“One moment. As chief clerk, it’s my duty to help record the case, Prefect. Please wait.”

“It’s just a murder case; I wouldn’t trouble you.”

“A murder case is no small matter. I really should come along,” Lu Zhou insisted.

After gathering his things, Lu Zhou accompanied the reluctant Shen Changbai, who looked rather like a bridegroom forced to his wedding.

As they boarded the carriage, Lu Zhou suddenly asked, “Are you certain this case has nothing to do with cultivators?”

Shen’s annoyance was evident. “I haven’t even seen the scene. How could I know? It’s all conjecture.”

Lu Zhou smiled, boarded the carriage, and closed his eyes for a nap as they sped away, leaving the official residence behind. Shen sat fuming beside him.

Clear Creek Village—so named for the renowned Clear Creek Academy nearby.

A temporary tent had been set up in the village.

With a slap on the table, Shen Changbai winced, remembering this was not his office and there was no gavel to strike. Stifling the pain, he shouted, “Bring in the suspects!”

The tent was crowded with villagers, their voices rising in a chorus of debate. The space was small to begin with, now it was stifling.

Lu Zhou sat at a table to Shen Changbai’s left—a special arrangement, as he was to record the proceedings.

The suspects were brought in, and Lu Zhou’s brush paused in surprise.

There were rather a lot of them! Six in total—men and women, young and old.

At the head of the tent, Shen Changbai was momentarily stunned, his stern demeanor faltering into something more like constipation. He looked at the row of kneeling figures and, after a pause, demanded, “Suspects, are you aware of your crimes?”

“We don’t know anything, sir!” wailed one.

“We’re innocent, sir!”

“Mother, I want to go home!” cried a child.

The tent was in chaos. Lu Zhou frowned—this case seemed anything but straightforward. He took the dossier from a constable and began to read.

The case itself wasn’t complicated: Old Man Xu had been found dead at home that morning, a sickle wound at his throat. After half a day’s investigation, the constables suspected vengeance and rounded up everyone who had quarreled with Xu recently—a total of six.

But Lu Zhou wondered, why arrest the child? He’d only stolen a melon and been spanked for it—was that truly a motive?

The case was nearly solved: with six suspects, a little interrogation should reveal the culprit. But it was clear Shen Changbai had no intention of doing so.

He questioned each in turn about their whereabouts during the crime. Five had alibis; only the child could not account for his time.

“Wicked brat! Who would have thought someone so young could commit murder? Guards—”

Lu Zhou could no longer write.

Was he about to close the case just like that? Was the culprit truly this snot-nosed child?

The child’s parents rushed forward, clutching their son and crying, “Sir, we’re innocent! The boy wasn’t home, but he’s just a child—how could he kill anyone?”

Shen Changbai waved them off impatiently. “Who says children can’t kill? Are you questioning my judgment?”

Lu Zhou looked at the pitiful family, and shook his head.

Alibis were hardly sufficient to determine the truth—after all, the real culprit could easily have arranged for someone to vouch for them. Shen’s questioning was pointless. Or perhaps he didn’t care to find the real answer.

Heh.

Lu Zhou set down his brush, massaged his wrist, then coughed softly and stood. “Prefect Shen, may I ask a few questions myself?”