Chapter Seventy-Two: Unraveling the Enigma

"Seventh Lady, the ingredients you requested are ready. Is there anything else you need?" Madam Gu asked with a fawning smile. Seventh Lady was now their creditor, and everyone behaved with the utmost propriety, fearing she might call in their debts at any moment.

"Just leave them there. That’s all for now," Wen Jing replied. Today, on a sudden whim, she wanted to make sweet and sour ribs—a homestyle dish she used to enjoy often in her modern life. Yet these northern folk weren’t fond of sweets, so she could only make it herself.

Upon hearing she could leave the things, Madam Gu hurried off as if afraid Wen Jing would demand repayment if she lingered a moment longer.

Qingliu watched as Seventh Lady deftly wielded the large ladle, but her mind was filled with yesterday’s image of Wen dissecting a corpse with a scalpel. Suddenly, she dashed outside and began to retch—she hadn’t eaten for two meals now and felt as if a foul stench clung to her, one that no amount of washing could remove.

Wen Jing looked after the fleeing Qingliu in bewilderment and shook her head. Clearly, training this girl as an assistant would be a long journey.

"Do you still feel like there’s a bad smell on you?" Wen Jing asked when Qingliu returned after rinsing her mouth.

Qingliu blinked, then nodded vigorously. "How did you know, my lady?"

"Here, use this. Scrub yourself with it several times, until you can’t smell the odor anymore," Wen Jing said, tossing her a handful of cilantro.

Qingliu eyed the bunch of cilantro suspiciously but began to rub it between her hands. The strong scent of cilantro soon masked the stench, and her hands smelled much better.

"My lady, this really works! Why didn’t you say so earlier? I couldn’t sleep a wink last night, tormented by nightmares—always dreaming of following you to examine corpses…" Qingliu muttered as she scrubbed.

Wen Jing sautéed blanched ribs with star anise, cinnamon, and other spices, then added water to the pot to stew them. Only then did she look up and reply with a touch of melancholy, "I forgot."

Qingliu’s face darkened, though it was hard to tell since her complexion was already dusky.

"Seventh Sister, what delicious dish are you making?" Wen Shilang ran in, swallowing his saliva.

"It’s not ready yet. You’ll have to wait. Why don’t you stay here for dinner today, Shilang?" Wen Jing smiled.

Wen Shilang nodded. "Seventh Sister, you’ve been so busy lately. Every time I come, I don’t see you."

"I won’t be busy these next few days. Come keep me company after school."

"Alright. But if you get married, I won’t get to see you often anymore," Wen Shilang said, frowning.

Wen Jing couldn’t help but laugh. This little fellow already knew about marriage. Clearly, she could no longer treat him as a child.

"Seventh Sister, you’re still laughing!" Wen Shilang seemed to take the matter very seriously, clearly annoyed by Wen Jing’s nonchalance.

Wen Jing was taken aback. She didn’t know where this sudden irritation in Shilang came from and pinched his cheek. "What happened?"

"Seventh Sister, don’t you know someone’s come to propose marriage?" Wen Shilang asked.

Wen Jing was startled. A marriage proposal?

Qingliu also paused, exchanging a look with Wen Jing.

"Shilang, what exactly did you see and hear? Tell me everything," Wen Jing urged.

Shilang’s eyes darted before he spoke. "This morning, I heard Mother talking to Sister Lianxiu. Scholar Wang sent someone to propose marriage on your behalf."

Scholar Wang… Wen Jing remembered the "old rascal" she’d met the previous day. Surely, it was for his second son, Wang Erlang?

Qingliu thought to herself that this Wang Erlang acted with impressive speed—quietly arranging a matchmaker through his father. She wondered what Madam Liu thought of it.

"What else did you hear?" Wen Jing pressed. This was hardly good news. She had no intention of marrying someone she didn’t love simply because of parental arrangements and a matchmaker’s words. That was too great a risk—her happiness was at stake.

"Then Mother told me to go play outside, so I didn’t hear anything more," Shilang replied.

"Turn down the heat a bit; there’s sugar underneath—it’ll burn," Wen Jing suddenly called toward the kitchen.

Thinking only of food at a time like this—honestly, it was as if the emperor was calm while the eunuchs panicked, Qingliu thought. She wondered how Madam Liu would respond. In her opinion, Liu would surely try to interfere. The Wang family was a fine match, and if it meant something good for Seventh Lady, Madam Liu would never let it happen easily.

If Liu did meddle, it would suit Wen Jing just fine; she didn’t want to marry so soon anyway. But Liu’s word wasn’t final—once Wen Qiran spoke, that would settle it. She would need to talk to her father quickly, lest he agree before she could object, and by then it would be too late to regret.

Wen Qiran had left for the examination hall early in the morning. As one of the examiners, he was finally able to relax now that the provincial exam was proceeding smoothly. Otherwise, if the emperor were angered, there was no telling what he might do—serving the sovereign was like living with a tiger.

Wen Qiran made his rounds with two subordinates, checking each compartment to see if anyone had escaped scrutiny. Some candidates would smuggle in slips of paper, hiding them in creative ways. Although there was a search before entering, people’s methods grew ever more ingenious—after all, the temptation of future success was great, and so was their daring.

He quietly observed a candidate not far ahead, noticing the man’s shifty gaze and occasional glances in his direction. Clearly, the man was acting guilty.

Wen Qiran signaled his subordinates to approach from both sides while he pretended not to notice, remaining where he was so as not to alert the suspect.

Soon, the two men dragged the candidate over.

"Sir, this man had slips of paper sewn into his inner garment. Luckily, you spotted him in time," one subordinate reported.

"Take him outside," Wen Qiran ordered. Years spent solving cases and interrogating suspects at the Ministry of Justice had honed his instincts—he could tell at a glance if someone was lying.

"Sir, please give me one more chance! I’ve waited years for this!" the candidate pleaded.

Wen Qiran shook his head. Cheating in the examination was a grave crime. To even ask for a second chance—he was lucky not to lose his head.

Wen Qiran glanced at Wang Jue, who was already lying on a makeshift couch, sound asleep, not a single word written on his paper. He thought, they say this man is the foremost scholar in Jiangnan—clearly, he’s different from the rest. While others are busy writing, he sleeps...

What truly unsettled Wen Qiran was that the candidate living next door to Wang Jue was also sound asleep—face down on his exam paper, in a strange position, his brush fallen to the floor.

Something was wrong.

Wen Qiran suddenly noticed faint traces of red appearing on the paper, the stains slowly spreading...

His heart sank. He rushed over to check for breath, then felt the carotid artery—sure enough, the man was dead.

Another death! The killer had no regard for them at all!

Anger welled in Wen Qiran’s chest, but the exam was still in progress. He quietly called two men to carry the body away.

He examined the corpse and confirmed the candidate had not been dead long. Judging by appearances, it was poisoning. Yet every candidate had his own compartment—how had the killer administered the poison?

When Ji Changgé heard of the incident, he hurried over from the Court of Judicial Review. The sight of the body left him incredulous—this case was even more outrageous than the one at Tongfu Inn. Not only was it a locked-room murder, but there were patrols outside. How had the killer managed to commit murder without alerting anyone?

Wen Qiran and Ji Changgé exchanged worried glances. The situation was dire—there were still no leads on the first two cases, and now yet another death, right in the exam hall. If the emperor learned of this, his wrath would be unfathomable...

...

"Seventh Sister, your sweet and sour ribs are delicious! Sister Qingliu, may I have another bowl of rice?" Wen Shilang called out.

"If you like it, I’ll make it for you again next time," Wen Jing smiled. She had thought Shilang wouldn’t be used to the sweetness, but to her surprise, he loved it—he’d eaten almost the entire platter himself.

Suddenly, the sky darkened, and a torrential rain began. Wen Jing glanced out the window, a vague sense of unease growing in her heart. She didn’t know that once the examiners entered the hall, they could not leave until the results were released. Wen Qiran would not be coming home for several days.