The Golden Hairpin

Huang Zixiao nodded and said, "From this, I have pondered for a long time. Gongsun Daniang travels the world—a woman alone, surrounded by dangers. Could she really rely solely on a wooden sword for protection? Moreover, after the sword dance that day, due to Fan Gongzi's accusations, Wang Yun, Wang Gongzi, once smelled the hilt of that wooden sword. It was said to carry a faint earthy odor."

Wang Yun, noticing her gaze, leaned back in his chair and first flashed her a smile before nodding in agreement. "Indeed, that is true."

"I also examined the hilt. On the side facing the blade, there were traces of mud. If, as Gongsun Daniang claimed, she merely dropped the sword on the ground, the mud would only have adhered to the sides of the hilt. How then could it have reached the side facing the blade? Besides, the pavilion floor was spotless that day. Even when she lay on the ground during her final move, her clothes remained pristine. Why then was there mud on the hilt?" Huang Zixiao picked up the gleaming blade once more, pointing its sharp tip downward to the cross-section. "Everyone, look here. The blade has grooves and small locking holes. I believe this dagger, much like my hairpin, conceals something within."

As she spoke, she pressed the hairpin in her hair, gripping the coiled grass design at the top, and pulled out the slender jade pin inside, leaving only the silver outer casing in place. She showed it to the crowd before reinserting the jade pin. Then, she took the long wooden sword brought by Gongsun Daniang from the table and examined it carefully. After a moment, she pressed down on a smoother part of the decorative pattern. With a faint click, the blade separated from the hilt, revealing a hollow space inside. The hilt itself had grooves and clasps. Huang Zixiao aligned the sharp blade in her hand with the grooves, matching the holes before twisting it into place.

Gongsun Daniang's face finally turned deathly pale. She and Yin Siniang leaned against each other, their bodies growing weak. They could only slowly slump against the railing, their lips turning blue and trembling slightly, unable to utter a single word."I wonder... has Madam ever killed anyone before? You're bold and clever enough. You chose the most chaotic yet safest moment, making full use of the dance and your tools—of course, a skilled illusionist like Fourth Madam could arrange all the details for you—yet even knowing that someone might turn around and spot your figure in the darkness amidst so many witnesses, you were still willing to take the risk. Moreover, you were precise and ruthless. In such a hurried moment, you managed to stab Magistrate Qi straight through the heart without him making a sound or hitting a rib. You even twisted the dagger a few times in his heart, ensuring he died instantly without any reaction. Even Miss Zhou in the nearby gauze-curtained alcove didn't notice a thing." Huang Zixiao's voice was calm and measured, devoid of any emotion, even carrying a hint of coldness. "Of course, you were also lucky. At the start, Magistrate Qi was sitting at the front, and you initially had no chance to approach him. But when you said this dance was so enchanting it should be enjoyed with a loved one, Magistrate Qi, eager to please Miss Zhou, actually moved his chair to the very back, next to the gauze-curtained alcove. And when you killed him, Young Master Fan happened to be vomiting. The stench carried by the wind masked the smell of blood, and Miss Zhou turned away to cover her nose, her gaze conveniently avoiding you."

Gongsun Yuan stood under the lamplight, her figure illuminated like a delicate orchid trembling in the wind, frail and desolate.

"After the murder, you should have immediately returned the dagger to the wooden sword. But reattaching the blade would have taken time—it's not as easy as removing it. In the dark, aligning the clasp would have been difficult, and there was also the risk of revealing the blood inside. So you had no choice but to abandon the dagger. Simply stabbing it into the stone crevice would have left bloodstains on the slab or seeped into the soil, risking discovery. But just then, Young Master Fan finished vomiting and collapsed drunk on the ground. Naturally, you resented his lewd and shameless behavior, so you quickly wiped the dagger clean with his clothes, stabbed it into the crevice, and took the hilt back, slipping it on seamlessly... isn't that right?"

Amidst the stunned silence, Gongsun Yuan clenched her teeth, forcing her trembling lips to still. After a long pause, she finally managed to ask in a hoarse voice, "Then... Magistrate Qi and I had no enmity between us. Why... would I want to kill him?"

"No enmity?" Huang Zixiao replied, gathering all of Gongsun Yuan's belongings before nodding to Zhou Ziqin.

Understanding, Zhou Ziqin immediately fetched a few items and placed them on the pavilion table.

The objects he laid out were a motley assortment—utterly chaotic:

A dark blue pouch; a handwritten manuscript by Zhong Hui; a painting of a green pine tree with a zither; a stack of gaudy, variously patterned poetry papers...

Under the bewildered gazes of the crowd, Huang Zixiao displayed each item one by one, explaining, "These are the suspicious things I found in Magistrate Qi's home. First, this stack of poetry papers. They all come from Wutong Street in Chengdu Prefecture, mostly written by courtesans, all signed under the name Wen Yang."Fan Yuanlong asked in astonishment, "Wen Yang? Isn't that the man who committed suicide with Fu Xinruan? How could the poetry he received end up in Judge Qi's home?"

"Exactly. Moreover, after the incident, we visited Wutong Street and found the people who sent these love poems in various brothels. They all confirmed that there was indeed a patron named Wen Yang—a considerate, gentle, and cheerful man who even composed bawdy verses—completely unlike the cold and aloof Wen Yang we knew."

"Could it be..." The same thought occurred to everyone simultaneously, and a heavy silence fell over the room.

"But that's not all. Look at this painting of a pine tree and a zither. The paper quality, brushwork, and artistic conception are entirely different from the one found in Judge Qi's home. From what we've learned, this was indeed the painting originally hung in Wen Yang's study. However, it disappeared around the time of his supposed suicide."

Huang Zixiao then produced another painting and said, "This hydrangea and butterfly painting was retrieved from Wen Yang's room. His servants mentioned that the pine painting originally hanging there had been replaced with this one at some point, yet we found no trace of the so-called pine painting in his home."

"And in Judge Qi's home, the painting originally displayed was precisely this hydrangea and butterfly piece!" Zhou Ziqin nodded. "Thus, we're absolutely certain these two paintings were swapped. The serene and refined Wen Yang, who often contemplated pines, had his study adorned with a hydrangea painting, while Judge Qi, whose study was filled with roses and azaleas, somehow ended up with a starkly different pine painting."

Zhou Xiang quickly asked, "But what was the purpose of exchanging these two paintings?"

"The answer lies within one of the paintings." Huang Zixiao took out the letter from Fu Xinruan found in Wen Yang's home and read it aloud to everyone:

"...Thinking of the osmanthus in the courtyard, only two or three blossoms remain. I shall cherish them and make osmanthus honey for you. Sunlight is scarce in Shu these days, and I've grown paler. Today, I opened the rouge you gifted me—its fragrance lingers, its pink hue delicate and lovely, like the hydrangea and butterfly painting on your desk..."

Setting the letter down, she sighed softly. "The man involved with Fu Xinruan was extremely cautious about leaving traces. In brothels, he always used another's name, and Fu Xinruan was no exception—she consistently referred to him as 'Lord Wen' in her letters to her sisters, always mentioning 'Wen Yang.' Thus, this so-called 'Wen Yang' meticulously concealed his tracks, leaving no written evidence in brothels and exchanging very few letters with Fu Xinruan. This might have been one of their only correspondences—so he planted it beside Wen Yang as evidence, solidifying Wen Yang's role as the scapegoat who supposedly had a relationship with Fu Xinruan. At the same time, the letter was used to mislead us into treating their poisoning as a 'lovers' suicide,' obscuring the truth."

Fan Yuanlong suddenly jumped up, stammering, "Y-you mean... this Wen Yang isn't the real Wen Yang... No, the real Wen Yang isn't this Wen Yang?"

Though his words were jumbled, everyone understood his meaning. For a moment, the entire room was struck dumb.Huang Zixiao nodded and said, "Exactly. The 'Wen Yang' in the letter and the 'Wen Yang' Fu Xinruan encountered were not the real Wen Yang, Wen Bingji. There was one person whose name naturally paired with Wen Yang's, so he often used this alias to frequent the pleasure quarters. Everyone who gave him love letters called him 'Wen Yang'—no one knew his real name was Qi Teng, Qi Hanyue, also known as the Cold Moon Gentleman."

Thinking of Qi Teng's composed and gentle demeanor in public, no one could imagine him carousing in the brothels under another name. Fan Yuanlong asked, "Eunuch Yang, if what you say is true, how could Magistrate Qi openly impersonate Wen Yang in the pleasure quarters without worrying that one day he might be discovered? And wouldn’t it be disastrous if he ever ran into Wen Yang there?"

Huang Zixiao shook her head. "No, Magistrate Qi had a foolproof plan. He chose to impersonate Wen Yang not just because their names happened to complement each other, nor simply because both had lost their parents and wives early. There was another reason—he knew he would never run into Wen Yang in those brothels."

Zhou Ziqin whispered, "But Chonggu, the servants at the Wen residence said he occasionally visited those places too..."

"The places he went were entirely different from where Magistrate Qi frequented." Huang Zixiao pulled out a blue square-patterned love letter from the stack of coquettish notes. "Among these letters, this one stands out—it comes from a male brothel, a place frequented by those who prefer men."

The group exchanged glances, realization dawning, though the topic was too delicate to discuss openly.

"So, Wen Yang and Fu Xinruan could never have died for love. Because he had no interest in women. After his wife's death, he never considered remarrying. To hide his secret, he would sneak out late at night to those unspeakable places and return quietly—how could such a man have carried on a years-long romance with Fu Xinruan, sending her osmanthus flowers and rouge, to the point where even a woman as admired as her would give him her heart?" Huang Zixiao analyzed calmly and methodically, her tone so composed she might as well have been a eunuch rather than a seventeen-year-old girl. "Magistrate Qi knew about Wen Yang’s attempt to use a forged letter from Zhong Hui to gain the favor of... a certain man. Others might dismiss it, but as someone well-versed in the pleasure quarters, he understood perfectly. He felt safe impersonating Wen Yang there, and when he needed to rid himself of Fu Xinruan, he dragged the real Wen Yang into the mess as a scapegoat to settle his romantic debts. Of course, he also had to eliminate anything that might expose his secret, including that forged Zhong Hui letter and the love poems written to Wen Yang by male courtesans. At the same time, he went to great lengths to swap evidence, trying to create the illusion that Wen Yang and Fu Xinruan had indeed been deeply involved."

Zhou Xiang listened, sighing in dismay. "Substituting one for another, deceiving the world—Magistrate Qi’s schemes run deep! Thankfully..."Fortunately, his daughter Zhou Ziyan had not married this man. The crowd thought to themselves. But then another thought occurred—Qi Teng and Fu Xinruan had been involved for years without issue, so why the sudden murderous intent? Could it be to climb the social ladder by marrying the prefect's daughter and eliminate any potential threats once and for all?

"However, using the letter Fu Xinruan wrote to him as evidence has a flaw—the mention of the painting 'Embroidered Ball Butterfly' before the incident. Therefore, Qi Teng, who actually possessed this painting, had to find a way to bring it to the Wen Yang household—under the pretense of paying condolences as a fellow poetry society member. The Wen Yang family was illiterate and naturally paid no attention to paintings, so when I later inquired, they couldn’t even recall when the painting had appeared. After Qi Teng swapped the 'Green Pine' painting back, he noticed that one of the four paintings originally in his study was missing, leaving an awkward gap. Since the 'Green Pine' painting was roughly the same size and also depicted plants, he hung it there temporarily—unexpectedly, he died before replacing it, leaving behind this trace." Huang Ziguang continued, placing two stacks of papers on the table. "To fabricate evidence of intimacy between Wen Yang and Fu Xinruan, Qi Teng also tampered with other things. For instance, he stole some of Wen Yang’s manuscripts and secretly hid them in Fu Xinruan’s home, including daily notes. However, in his haste during the theft, he might have taken things he shouldn’t have. For example, the left half of this stack was found in Wen Yang’s home, while the right half was discovered in Fu Xinruan’s, supposedly proving their regular interactions. Unfortunately, he didn’t realize Wen Yang had written this for a different purpose."

As everyone examined Wen Yang’s handwritten pages, Monk Mushan was the first to remark, "These pages of Buddhist scriptures have unusually wide margins, almost resembling the butterfly binding style popular in recent years."

"Exactly. Wen Yang prided himself on his calligraphy, so this copy was clearly intended to be bound into a volume as a gift. How could half of it end up in someone else’s hands? It defies logic."

Zhou Ziqin glanced at Gongsun Yuan and Yin Luyi, about to order their arrest, when a sudden question struck him. He hurriedly asked, "Chonggu, I have one more doubt—could someone else have impersonated Wen Yang, framing Qi Teng when they killed Fu Xinruan?"

Huang Ziguang looked at him and nodded slightly.