Chapter 46: Garlic White Meat (Part 21)
Two days later, when Leng Yue saw Cui Niang again, she still had the same impression.
Because Cui Niang hadn't moved from her spot at all.
Cui Niang was still wearing the same green dress from two days ago, hugging her knees and crouching under the low yellow mud courtyard wall, leaning against a large locust tree, trembling uncontrollably.
Only now she was drenched from head to toe, her black hair matted into clumps. The locust tree leaves knocked down by yesterday's heavy rain covered her head and body, making her look even more pitiful.
Leng Yue froze for a moment.
Something...
didn't seem right.
In that moment of hesitation, Cui Niang seemed to sense someone had entered the courtyard. She shrank back forcefully, trembling as she timidly raised her head.
The moment her gaze fell on Leng Yue's hand, Cui Niang's dull eyes suddenly lit up. A blush spread across her pale face, and her slightly chapped lips parted, emitting a weak, hoarse voice with a clear tremble.
This time, Leng Yue barely managed to make out what she said.
Cui Niang said, "You're back."
Considering that during her last visit, Cui Niang hadn't shown the slightest welcome, nor had there been any indication she wanted Leng Yue to return when she left, Leng Yue believed these words definitely weren't meant for her.
Following Cui Niang's shining gaze, Leng Yue looked down at her own left hand.
She had left Hua Mei's room in such a hurry that she hadn't properly tucked Xiao Zhaoxuan's bracelet into her sleeve, instead just casually clutching it in her hand.
Was she crouching here waiting for someone?
Waiting for the owner of this bracelet?
When Leng Yue looked at Cui Niang again with some confusion, she saw Cui Niang struggling to stand up. But her body was too weak and feeble—before she could even stand, she collapsed to the ground. Even after falling, Cui Niang's eyes never left Leng Yue's left hand. Staring fixedly at the bracelet, she used all her strength to crawl toward Leng Yue.
Startled, Leng Yue hurried over to help her. The moment her hand touched Cui Niang's arm, Cui Niang—with strength from who knows where—suddenly straightened up and threw herself into Leng Yue's arms, wailing loudly.
Cui Niang's body was burning with fever. That sudden lunge seemed to have drained all her energy. Her slender body lay limp in Leng Yue's arms like boneless meat slices. Her soaked green dress was stained with filth, emitting a nauseating sour stench—nothing like someone who had been cared for by neighbors.
Leng Yue couldn't bring herself to push her away, letting her sob violently in her embrace. Amid Cui Niang's loud wails, Leng Yue vaguely understood a few phrases and realized a major mistake she had made from the very beginning of the case, driven by assumptions.
Cui Niang had indeed been driven mad by the sight of Xiao Zhaoxuan's corpse appearing at her doorstep, but not just because it was an excessively bizarre-looking corpse. The main reason was that this bizarre corpse was Xiao Zhaoxuan's.
A chill crept into Leng Yue's heart.
From the very beginning, what puzzled her most about this case wasn't who the murderer was, but why the murderer, while committing these crimes, strictly followed a set of self-imposed rules—such as all victims being men who frequented brothels, and all being disemboweled alive then meticulously cleaned...Oddly enough, all the other bodies had been placed at the victims' own doorsteps, yet Prince Jing Xiao Zhaoxuan's corpse was discovered in a small village on the outskirts of the capital, half a city away from the Prince Jing residence.
This made no sense.
But now, watching Cui Niang weeping hysterically in her arms, the inconsistency finally clicked.
Prince Jing hadn't been randomly discarded in this village—the perpetrator had never intended to return these cleaned-up dead men to their homes.
The perpetrator was delivering them back to their women.
Cui Niang was Xiao Zhaoxuan's woman, likely just one of many, but perhaps the only one the perpetrator knew about.
Thus, the unwed Prince Jing was sent here.
Cui Niang, like Qin Hehuan and Feng Si'er, was a victim.
In the moment of Leng Yue's realization, this traumatized victim, driven mad by extreme fright, fainted in her arms while clutching her deceased lover's bracelet.
Cold sweat prickled in Leng Yue's palms.
The trail ended here. Starting over would likely be too late...
Leng Yue glanced down at the utterly disheveled Cui Niang. Leaving her collapsed in the courtyard like this—with her frail physique and raging fever—would surely claim another life by nightfall.
Enough. Saving one was better than none...
Carefully, Leng Yue carried Cui Niang inside and laid her on the crude bed in the corner. As she undid the soaked dress and removed the inner garments, exposing large patches of skin, her hands stilled, and she froze in shock.
Though nearly thirty, Cui Niang had fair, delicate skin like polished jade. There were no burn scars as Hua Mei had described, but numerous old weapon wounds over a year old and scattered syphilitic sores covered her slender frame—a horrifying sight.
Cui Niang...
Wasn't Bi Xiao?
Stunned, Leng Yue turned to look at the memorial tablet enshrined on the incense altar in the corner.
She'd noticed it during her last visit—it was the tablet Cui Niang worshipped for her deceased husband, surnamed Jiang, who had died over a year ago. Alongside it was a set of worn night watchman's tools. It was precisely this that had made her suspect Cui Niang when Hua Mei mentioned Bi Xiao being sold off to a watchman a year and a half ago.
If Cui Niang wasn't Bi Xiao, then Bi Xiao must still be in this village.
At this hour, she might be disemboweling some dissolute young master...
A chill ran through Leng Yue. She hurriedly stripped off Cui Niang's clothes, not bothering to change her into clean garments, and simply covered her feverish body with a quilt. Heading out, she meant to toss the soiled clothes into the washing basin in the yard. But as she stepped into the courtyard, about to throw them in, her gaze inadvertently fell on the filth staining the garments, and she paused.
Wait...
Night watchmen weren't the only ones who could move freely through the streets after dark.
There was another type of person.
One who could dispose of bodies even more conveniently than a watchman, without needing to avoid attention.
No wonder the dumping time at the Capital Prefecture last night was so much earlier than previous instances...
Leng Yue suddenly remembered—two days ago, when she knocked on a neighbor's door to ask them to look after Cui Niang, she had already glimpsed that person's livelihood tools in the corner of the yard—the very tools used for dumping corpses.
She hadn't registered it at the time...
Not far. She could only hope it wasn't too late.Leng Yue landed swiftly and lightly in the more dilapidated courtyard nearby, like a red leaf swept away by a fierce wind, faintly hearing the uniquely soft and charming voice of a courtesan from the shaky village house.
"...If you don’t eat, don’t cry out when it hurts later."
Leng Yue let out a long sigh of relief.
Good, at least the unlucky young master inside was still in one piece.
But...
Leng Yue sighed silently and shook her head. Bi Xiao really couldn’t blame Hua Mei for being squeezed out of the Sparrow Nest Brothel. Even if Hua Mei hadn’t used such unscrupulous means to drive her away, Bi Xiao was destined for a bad end. At her age, having worked in the capital’s top brothel and been married, she still believed these frivolous young masters would keep their word.
If it were up to Leng Yue to deal with these young masters, she would simply pinch their cheeks, pry their mouths open, and stuff the medicine down their throats.
Or better yet, just beat them to death, pluck them clean, and gut them—wouldn’t that be simpler?
As Leng Yue was inexplicably worrying about Bi Xiao, she heard the voice of that unlucky young master from inside the house.
"Don’t worry, I won’t cry out."
That voice...
Crisp as chilled cucumber, sweet as iced watermelon, soft as steamed pumpkin, steady as a whole winter squash freshly picked from the field...
Jing Yi?!
Good heavens...
Startled, Leng Yue drew her sword and charged in, following the sound.
The house was already old, with everything that should or shouldn’t be broken in disrepair. For instance, the shabby wooden door, bolted from the inside, groaned under Leng Yue’s three-tenths strength palm strike and fell from its frame before even opening, slamming flat onto the ground.
With a loud crash.
By the time Leng Yue rushed in, the two people inside were still stunned by the sudden noise. At the sight of Leng Yue, they froze even more.
Leng Yue was more stunned than both of them combined, her jaw nearly hitting the floor.
Jing Yi, lying limply on the bed...
Bald?!
Not only was Jing Yi’s head shaved gleaming smooth, but his face had also been meticulously groomed, without a single stubble. His clothes had been stripped clean, even the bandages she had wrapped around his upper thigh last night were removed. His body looked as if it had been scrubbed meticulously, like a white radish—thoroughly stripped of its greens, washed free of mud, and peeled—lying bare on a shabby vegetable... no, a shabby bed board.
In the afternoon sunlight, Jing Yi glowed golden from head to toe.
Leng Yue’s emotions were more complicated than ever.
Not just because the man who had been perfectly fine last night was now reflective, but also because a row of knives of varying lengths lay neatly arranged on the bed board by Jing Yi’s feet. Below the bed was a wooden bucket. Jing Yi might not have noticed, but Leng Yue could tell at a glance the bloodstains deeply embedded in the wood grain.
And on the bed board, on the ground...
This time, there was no mistake.
The woman standing beside Jing Yi wasn’t holding any blade but half a meat bun. After staring blankly at the stunned Leng Yue for a moment, she smiled sweetly. "Constable Leng... no, I should call you Madam Jing."Leng Yue desperately wanted to find something like a shroud to wrap her naked man from head to toe, but that row of sharp blades was within the woman's reach. Who knew what the woman might do to Jing Yi in a moment of desperation? Leng Yue didn't dare act rashly for now, only slowly regulating her breathing while tightening her grip on the long sword in her hand.
"Are you Bi Xiao?"
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