The Golden Hairpin

Tang Zhuniang had been widowed early in life, and now the only ones who came forward were her nephew and two or three neighbors.

One neighbor was a neatly dressed, scrawny man with a gold ring on his finger, wearing an unpleasant smile: "I'm the village head of Songhua Lane. Tang Zhuniang was originally from Chengdu Prefecture. She married into Hanzhou at seventeen. My wife grew up with her and said her husband died young, so life was hard for her—she took odd jobs here and there to scrape by. Later, when that Madam Fu spread word that she was looking for a servant, I told my wife, 'That lady seems decent, should be easy to serve, pays well, and the work is light. Ask Tang Zhuniang if she’s interested—I can make the introduction.'"

"So, you were the one who introduced Tang Zhuniang to Fu Xinruan?"

"That’s right. But who’d have thought that just a year later, something like this would happen... Ah, my wife and I have been filled with regret over this. Everyone says that house is cursed—two deaths already, and now even Tang Zhuniang died outside. Isn’t that just eerie?"

Huang Zixiang then looked at the person behind him—a short, plump woman with a well-fed appearance, hanging her head and twisting a handkerchief in her hands. "Is this your family?"

The skinny man quickly nodded. "My wife. Tang Zhuniang used to be her neighbor."

Huang Zixiang asked her, "Did Tang Zhuniang ever mention anything to you while working there?"

The woman, clearly still shaken from seeing Tang Zhuniang’s corpse, wiped her eyes with the handkerchief, her voice unsteady. "No... On holidays, she often brought gifts to visit us, saying she was grateful for introducing her to such a good place. She said... she said Madam Fu was very gentle in temperament, shared food and clothes with her, never withheld wages, and the household chores were light—just daily cleaning and cooking three meals."

"Did she ever mention any visitors at Madam Fu’s home?"

"No... When Madam Fu asked us to find someone, she insisted on discretion. Zhuniang must have been warned, so she never spoke of such things. Besides... given that Madam Fu was a courtesan, what business did we have asking about her visitors?"

Huang Zixiang dismissed the couple and turned to the next person.

This was a middle-aged woman with a sallow complexion, wearing a blue apron, her hair tied in a bun with a tarnished silver hairpin. She was clearly unused to such situations, fidgeting nervously. "I... I’m from Tianjia Lane in Hanzhou, living diagonally across from Zhuniang. She married there at seventeen. We were about the same age and lived close, so I called her sister-in-law."

"Did Zhuniang return to Tianjia Lane recently? Did she say anything to you?"

"She came back last month, all cheerful, saying the lady she served was getting married. I offhandedly remarked, 'What decent man would marry someone like that?' But she said it was a wonderful match—though the man had been married before, he had no children, was still young, and came from a good family. She said the lady was blessed by fate to marry him."

"Did she mention anything about the man?"

"No... Why would I care who Zhuniang served? Besides, we didn’t talk long before her nephew from her maiden family showed up. I had to hurry home to cook... Who’d have thought... that would be the last time I saw her..."Seeing her flustered and stumbling over her words, Zhou Ziqin signaled for her to step aside and called over Tang Zhuniang's nephew instead.

Tang Zhuniang's nephew, named Tang Sheng, was in his early twenties with a slovenly demeanor. His grin resembled a facial spasm, utterly repulsive no matter how one looked at it.

"My aunt? Yeah, I saw her last month. Told her I was getting married and asked for more money. But she only gave me two thousand coins—tch." Tang Sheng swung the purse in his hand, his face full of disdain. "Working as a servant in a decent household would already be embarrassing enough, but now she's serving some prostitute from Yangzhou? Utterly shameful! If it weren’t for her promise to get my fiancée a pair of silver hairpins, I wouldn’t have even bothered meeting her."

Huang Zixiao asked, "What’s this about silver hairpins?"

"Just yesterday. The prostitute she served died, right? She was packing up to leave when I happened to be heading home. We ran into each other at the alley entrance—my place is right nearby in Shuangxi Lane."

Huang Zixiao nodded, realizing this was Tang Zhuniang’s maternal family home.

"She spotted me and called me over, rummaging through her bundle like she had something for me. I thought it might be something good, so I waited. But after digging around forever—I even saw her pull out half a purse—she stuffed it back in and said, ‘I’ll take it to Hanzhou first and have a pair of silver hairpins made for your fiancée.’ At the time, I believed her. But later, I realized—wasn’t she just fooling me? Chengdu has hundreds of silversmiths. If she had the money, why go all the way to Hanzhou? Clearly, she was just being stingy and feeding me lies."

Huang Zixiao set down her brush, reviewing her notes before asking, "Your aunt Tang Zhuniang specifically said, ‘I’ll take it to Hanzhou first and have a pair of silver hairpins made for your fiancée’?"

"Yeah, exactly," Tang Sheng confirmed. "I’ve gone over it a hundred times since—not a single word off. The more I think about it, the more it stinks of a lie."

Huang Zixiao nodded and pressed further, "Did your aunt ever mention anything to your family? Like the people Madam Fu associated with, or details about her daily life?"

"Nah. She’s been married out for decades. When she came back, it was just to see my grandma. Now that my grandma’s old and deaf as a post, she just slips her a bit of cash each month. What else would she come back for?"

Tang Zhuniang clearly hadn’t lived well. None of her relatives even came to identify the body. Her nephew gave the corpse a perfunctory glance before saying, "Guess it’s her. Huh, no one left in her husband’s family? Why’s it on us to handle the burial?"

"If there were anyone in her husband’s family, they’d have taken the house long ago. You think it’d still be around?" Zhou Ziqin remarked.

Tang Sheng’s eyes lit up. "So the property’s up for grabs?"

Huang Zixiao replied impassively, "For those without children, if their nephews handle the funeral arrangements, they may inherit the property."

Tang Sheng immediately declared, "She was my aunt. As her nephew, arranging her funeral is my duty!"

"Good. Prepare the coffin and select a burial plot. Once the funeral is over, come to the yamen for the property deeds."

After seeing Tang Sheng out, Zhou Ziqin asked Huang Zixiao, "Does our dynasty actually have such a law?""No," Huang Zixiao shook her head. "But did you notice? The moment there was mention of property, 'that aunt of mine' suddenly became 'my dear aunt.'"

Zhou Ziqin grumbled, "Wouldn't it be great if we could find a way to make him lose everything?"

"Come on, it's just a shabby house in a back alley in Hanzhou. After deducting funeral expenses, it’s probably only worth a pair of silver hairpins," Huang Zixiao replied, then went back to reviewing the statements from earlier.

Zhou Ziqin was already impatient. "Now that you're free, can you finally tell me? How’s Second Brother Zhang doing?"

"Don’t rush. Why not just go see for yourself?" Huang Zixiao said, tidying up the case files she had written and closing them.

But at that moment, Li Shubai reached over and took the file from her, flipping it open to examine her handwriting.

It was the familiar script he knew—delicate and graceful, like flowers in a hairpin, yet hurried in its strokes, betraying haste in both the start and finish of each character.

Li Shubai frowned slightly, his gaze sweeping over the writing with an involuntary chill.

Huang Zixiao asked softly, "What is it?"

He handed the file back to her and murmured, "When emotions are involved, especially with family, it’s hard to stay calm."

Huang Zixiao frowned and reopened her notebook to check.

Meanwhile, Zhou Ziqin was already asking, "What? Whose family is involved in this case? Isn’t it just that Tang Sheng guy?"

Li Shubai nodded casually. "Exactly."

Huang Zixiao, however, was still flipping through her notes, struggling to suppress her shock. Yet the disbelief in her eyes was impossible to hide.

Her steps slowed.

Li Shubai turned to look at her, paused, then finally walked back to her side and gently patted her shoulder. "We’ll cross-check when we get to the prefect’s office," he said quietly.

She nodded stiffly, as if trying to escape, and snapped the notebook shut.

As the group left the mortuary, the scrawny, filthy mutt at the door perked up and started barking wildly at them.

Huang Zixiao glanced at the sky, then at the dog, puzzled.

Li Shubai leaned in and whispered, "I never thought I’d see the day you made a wrong prediction."

Huang Zixiao shot him a glare. "I told you, I just keep a dog to help with investigations, nothing more!"

A group of constables riding horses while leading an ugly dog through the streets drew plenty of stares. Some snickered at the sight, while others outright laughed at Zhou Ziqin. "Constable Zhou, what crime did this dog commit to deserve being paraded around like a criminal?"

"Tch, I’m training a hound to help solve cases. What’s wrong with your eyes?"

"So the constable’s hound looks exactly like a stray mutt?"

"Hahaha… With all that mud caked on it, who can tell? Maybe after a bath, it’ll turn out to be a real hound!"

"If that’s a hound, I’ll swallow the whole dog alive!"

When they reached the street corner, the second daughter of the butcher was selling lamb. The moment she saw the dog, she tossed it a small rib. The mutt, overjoyed, bolted toward it, nearly yanking Zhou Ziqin off his feet. Stumbling, he was dragged straight to the meat stall, unable to stop in time—his knees hit the ground with a loud thud as he crashed into the counter.The second young lady held a large cleaver, looking at him with amusement: "Young Constable Zhou, what's with the grand gesture?"

Zhou Ziqin clutched his sore nose, tears nearly welling up: "Second young lady, didn't I tell you before not to sell mutton on the street? At least... at least don't set up so close to the middle of the road!"

Unfazed, the second young lady pulled her wheelbarrow a couple of feet toward the roadside, then mocked, "Even if I move over here, would you still not end up prostrating before me?"

Zhou Ziqin made a pained face and said, "At least... I wouldn't kneel so earnestly at your pomegranate skirt."

The second young lady tugged at her tattered hem, rolled her eyes at him, and grabbed an even bigger bone to toss forward: "Go!"

The ugly dog immediately became ecstatic, darting forward wildly. Zhou Ziqin, who was already sprawled on the ground, was dragged face-first for a good two zhang down the street before he finally managed to grab hold of a tree and stop the dog's mad dash.

Amidst the laughter of the crowd, Zhou Ziqin angrily untied the dog leash, rubbed his scraped elbows and knees, and stormed up to the second young lady, slamming his hand on the meat stall: "You—!"

The second young lady brandished her cleaver, looking at him with indifference: "Me?"

Zhou Ziqin glanced at the knife, then at the second young lady's fair skin and delicate features. His mouth opened and closed before he meekly raised his hands and took a step back: "I... I just wanted to say that from now on, selling mutton here is perfect—it won't block pedestrians or carriages."