Chapter 11: Thoughts Without Anchor (I)

The Young Master Bai

The Zhaosi Office was different from the prison of the Ministry of Justice. It detained petty offenders, akin to a “detention center.” After passing through the corridor, Qu You and Zhou Tan discovered that their assigned cell already housed someone.

Conditions at the Zhaosi Office were relatively decent. Each cell had simple beds, tables, chairs, and even jugs of water. However, because the capital prefecture covered such a large area, each cell could accommodate three to four people, and married couples could share a room.

The guards escorted them to the entrance, their demeanor respectful: “Please wait here for a moment.”

Qu You glanced inside and saw a man dressed in loose white robes. Apparently feeling the heat, he had rolled up his pant legs. His hair was loosely tied back, and he paid no mind to his appearance, standing by the wall writing poetry with water. He exuded an air of carefree elegance.

Hearing footsteps, he turned around and greeted them enthusiastically: “Greetings to you both… uh, sir and madam! Please, take a seat.”

He acted as if this place were his own home.

Zhou Tan sat on the bench beside the wooden table, nodding slightly in acknowledgment. Qu You sat next to him, glancing over before asking, “Master, I see you’re in high spirits. Are you composing poetry?”

The man tossed down his brush: “Ah, just scribbling. This cell hasn’t seen visitors in ages. My name is Bai Shating, thirteenth in my family. The young ladies call me ‘Bai Shisan Lang.’ Might I ask…”

Bai Shisan Lang?!

Qu You nearly choked on her breath, struggling to recover.

Her hands trembled—this literary giant whose poems she had memorized countless times in her textbooks now stood before her, alive and well.

Bai Shating hailed from a wealthy family in Qiantang. Despite failing the imperial exams for three years, he gained fame by selling poems and lyrics to courtesans. Historical records described him as a libertine in his youth, but after witnessing the plight of refugees, he experienced a profound change. At thirty, he passed the exams and was awarded the title of tan hua (third place). Unfortunately, his reputation had been tarnished, and he was soon demoted.

Zhou Tan noticed Qu You staring intently at Bai Shating and frowned, coughing lightly.

Qu You snapped out of her daze, suppressing her excitement, and bowed politely: “So you are Master Shisan! It’s truly an honor to meet you. I’ve read many of your exquisite verses.”

What a pity she couldn’t ask for an autograph!

Bai Shating appeared to be in his early twenties, youthful with a pale, serene face. Surprised by her words, he replied: “Oh? Women in Bianjing’s inner quarters often dismiss my works as ‘superficial and vulgar.’ Few appreciate them. Madam has discerning taste.”

As he spoke, he casually draped an arm over Zhou Tan’s shoulder. To his surprise, Zhou Tan shifted away, avoiding contact.

Qu You quickly explained: “He has a phobia of touch and dislikes physical contact.”

“No harm done,” Bai Shating grinned, studying Zhou Tan. “Judging by your distinguished appearance, may I ask where you serve?”

“Ministry of Justice, Zhou Tan.”

His response was cold and detached. Bai Shating, however, reacted as if struck by lightning. Slapping his thigh, he exclaimed, “It’s you!”

He marveled: “Do you know… ah, never mind. You don’t look like… erm, how did you end up here, Lord Zhou? Just flash your badge—dare anyone arrest you?”

Clearly, he already knew Zhou Tan.

“The incident at Fanlou today required us to follow procedure. Everyone is treated equally; there’s no need for exceptions based on my position,” Zhou Tan replied impassively.

“Well said! Lord Zhou possesses such wisdom,” Bai Shating applauded, turning to Qu You. “This must be your newlywed wife, then?”

“Greetings, Master Shisan. My name is Qu You. Let me assure you, the term ‘superficial and vulgar’ doesn’t apply to your work. Many admire your poetry—there’s no need for modesty,” Qu You said.

Bai Shating glanced at Zhou Tan, teasing: “Your husband is present. Aren’t you afraid he’ll take offense?”

Before Qu You could respond, Zhou Tan interjected: “I’ve read your works too. My wife enjoys poetry—it’s not surprising.”

Qu You leaned playfully against him: “Exactly.”

Bai Shating burst into laughter: “What an amusing couple! How extraordinary—to share a cell with the Vice Minister of Justice! Lord Zhou, what happened at Fanlou?”

“I am here under the same circumstances as you and Lady Qu—detained as suspects in the Zhaosi Office,” Zhou Tan replied calmly, showing no amusement. “As for Fanlou, you’ll learn about it once you’re released. No need for further explanation.”

“My husband rarely speaks. Please forgive him, Master,” Qu You stuck out her tongue at Zhou Tan, delighting in his irritated glance. “A murder occurred at Fanlou today. A woman fell from the tower during the courtesan’s performance.”

Bai Shating nodded repeatedly. After exchanging pleasantries, Qu You tugged on Zhou Tan’s sleeve.

Zhou Tan turned to look at her.

“I wanted to tell you earlier, but with the guards present, it wasn’t appropriate. Since you know Master Shisan, I’ll speak freely,” Qu You said, pulling a pearl flower ornament from her sleeve. “When that woman approached me before falling, this ended up in my hand.”

Zhou Tan’s brow furrowed slightly as he took the ornament from her.

“A pearl flower? Why does it look so new?”

“That’s what I was wondering too,” Qu You praised his sharp observation. “This pearl flower is too pristine. When I saw that woman in green earlier, her hair was slightly disheveled, adorned with a peony and a crimson ribbon—but no jewels.”

Zhou Tan was mildly surprised but kept his composure: “You remember clearly.”

Qu You coughed: “It’s become second nature.”

During her graduate studies in historical biographies, her professor had assigned a unique psychological task: observe classmates’ clothing, habits, and expressions to infer information. She learned to analyze details—why historical figures wore white robes, why Chancellor Su always carried a string of multicolored prayer beads in portraits. Some mysteries she solved; others remained elusive. But this method sharpened her ability to extract essential details from historical images—a skill she now applied to remembering people.

“So,” she continued, “a brand-new pearl flower, carried but not worn, must hold great significance to its owner—or perhaps it was given by someone dear. More importantly, I don’t think this pearl flower accidentally ended up in my hand.”

Zhou Tan paused: “She deliberately gave it to you?”

“I’m not entirely sure, given the chaos at the time,” Qu You hesitated, then nodded. “But when I came to, it was in my hand. What are the chances of that being a coincidence? Perhaps we should investigate further.”

Bai Shating chimed in: “I have a friend who’s knowledgeable about jewelry and accessories. Once I’m out, I’ll take you to her.”

“How long until you’re released?” Zhou Tan asked.

Bai Shating chuckled awkwardly: “That… I can’t say.”

“When you’re out, we’ll meet there,” Zhou Tan said.

Qu You didn’t understand their cryptic exchange, but Bai Shating readily agreed: “Alright.”

“What’s this secret code between you two?” she asked.

Bai Shating grinned: “I’m just telling Lord Zhou there’s no need to thank me.”

Zhou Tan, however, said: “Don’t ask further. This isn’t something you should meddle in.”

Qu You froze: “Why not?”

“The Ministry of Justice will handle this. As a woman of the inner quarters, how can you investigate a murder?”

The atmosphere grew icy. Qu You fingered the pearl flower, her earlier smile fading: “I told you—I don’t want to be confined to your inner quarters. You’re the Vice Minister of Justice, and I’m your wife. Helping you isn’t out of place. Besides…”

She paused, emphasizing her words: “She died right before my eyes.”

“Lord Zhou, imagine what that woman endured—a battered body, falling from the tower in the busiest place. Can you fathom her suffering?”

She reverted to calling him “Lord Zhou” again.

Bai Shating glanced at Qu You’s expression, then at Zhou Tan, mentally remarking several times without speaking.

Zhou Tan remained silent. Qu You pressed on: “In this dynasty… no, throughout history, it’s always been difficult for men to understand women. As a woman, I feel compelled to stand in solidarity. Moreover, a life vanished before my eyes—how can I remain indifferent, pretending nothing happened? I’m not doing this to help you. I’m doing it… for her.”

Why?

Why did this young woman, raised delicately in seclusion, burn with such fire and light in her eyes?

It reminded him of their past selves.

Zhou Tan stared into her eyes, feeling a faint pang in his heart. He awkwardly averted his gaze, his voice still cold, though Qu You detected a slight tremor: “…Do as you wish.”

Her grip on the pearl flower loosened. Bai Shating rolled his eyes mischievously, suddenly producing a set of playing cards from beneath the table: “Uh, hey, let’s lighten the mood. We’re stuck here anyway, with nothing else to do. How about a game of cards? Do you know how to play?”

Qu You softened her expression, inspecting the cards. Finding them similar to ones she and her classmates had replicated, she said, “My skills are decent.”

Her mood shifted faster than flipping pages. Before Zhou Tan could react, Qu You cheerfully shoved the cards into his hands.

“Two players short—one of you can teach the other.”