BXG - 13

The Scholar

The Ministry of Justice operated with commendable efficiency. Within half a day, they confirmed that the pearl flower had indeed been purchased from the craftsman’s shop on East Street. The buyer was recorded by surname only: one named Gu, the other Yan.

The woman, Gu Xianghui, hailed from a farming family in the suburbs. Her father had been a tenant farmer in an estate outside the capital, but misfortune befell them years ago, leaving the family decimated.

After losing her family, Gu Xianghui likely fell into prostitution, becoming a low-ranking courtesan at Fangxin Pavilion, a brothel in North Street.

North Street was a far cry from the Spring Wind and Rain Pavilion Zhou Tan had taken Qu You to earlier. Located between Mingfang and the imperial palace, near the Bian River and close to Fanlou, Spring Wind and Rain Pavilion catered to elite clientele, housing talented and beautiful women, including renowned courtesans like Ye Liuchun, who commanded respect even among the scholarly elite.

In contrast, North Street bordered the docks, populated primarily by laborers and the working class. Brothels like Fangxin Pavilion harbored countless women who had been sold into servitude or driven to prostitution by debt and despair.

Given the chaotic nature of the area, record-keeping for prostitutes was lax. Beyond the basic registry, the madam knew little about Gu Xianghui.

Zhou Tan subsequently interrogated three or four individuals connected to Fangxin Pavilion. This case, transferred from the capital prefecture via imperial decree, was treated with utmost importance, so Zhou Tan and Liang An personally conducted the interrogations.

Qu You, disguised as a minor official, waited in the rear hall of the Ministry of Justice, reviewing the madam’s testimony. To avoid drawing suspicion from Liang An, she refrained from attending the hearings.

In the rear hall, another young man dressed similarly approached her enthusiastically. “Brother, I haven’t seen you here before. Are you new, recruited by Lord Zhou?”

“Indeed,” Qu You replied curtly.

The man continued, undeterred: “I’m here because my father sent me to apprentice under Lord Liang. I’ve only been here a month, but I’ve got seniority over you. My name is Li Hongyu. If you don’t mind, call me Big Brother. Wow, we’ve just arrived and already stumbled upon such a high-profile case! I heard…”

He prattled on behind her, but Qu You’s attention was drawn to a pristine white folding screen nearby. Made of rice paper, the screen was entirely blank except for a few lines of text scrawled on the first panel facing her. Intrigued, she casually asked, “Young Master Li, why doesn’t this screen have any decorative patterns?”

“Oh, that!” He eagerly explained, “You wouldn’t know this, but this screen was originally evidence. A criminal replaced its panels to hide bloodstains after committing murder, though traces of blood remained on the wooden frame. The criminal has since been imprisoned. Three months ago, when Lord Zhou arrived at the Ministry, he oversaw internal affairs and temporarily placed this screen here for disposal. That night, someone inscribed a poem on it.”

“Oh? Who wrote the poem?”

“Hah! It sparked quite a discussion throughout the Ministry. Unfortunately, I’m no scholar—I can’t make heads or tails of it.” Li Hongyu scratched his head and chuckled. “Several colleagues, and even a few female prisoners, have come here regularly ever since, writing on the screen. They told me about it. The original poet responded to their additions, and everyone calls him ‘Mr. White Snow.’ They say he’s a kind man whose words can comfort troubled hearts.”

Qu You listened with fascination: “So why is the screen still blank now?”

Li Hongyu replied: “Mr. White Snow hasn’t visited in a long time. Some speculate he couldn’t find space to write after the previous screen filled up. Sure enough, not long after, he added another poem—but it’s missing the final line. Several regular contributors tried to complete it but failed. Lately, they’ve hesitated to add anything else.”

Qu You stepped closer to examine the delicate calligraphy. Written in elegant zanhua script, the poem stood out starkly against the faint scent of blood lingering in the rear hall.

“Bamboo dusted with snow remains untroubled; galloping horses and swords carve a small jianghu.

Green robes pour wine for new disciples; hoary heads light candles for old books.

To hear White Snow during springtime, no longer laughing at Suzhou’s lost melodies.

A life despised sees only days pass…” 

She recited softly, silently admiring the work.

This person possessed genuine literary talent—his poetry rivaled that of several renowned poets of the era, yet she hadn’t encountered this piece before.

Who was Mr. White Snow?

Her first thought was Zhou Tan, but this poem wasn’t included in Spring and Sandalwood Collection . Given Zhou Tan’s aloof demeanor, it seemed unlikely he would engage in such activities.

“Can anyone write on this screen?”

“Yes, yes! Would you like to add a line? There’s ink and brush over there,” Li Hongyu said, noticing her interest. Turning toward the front hall, he added, “Feel free. I’ll go check if Lord Liang needs anything.”

“All right,” Qu You muttered absently.

Taking the brush and ink, she completed the poem:

“…To hear White Snow during springtime, no longer laughing at Suzhou’s lost melodies.

A life despised sees only days pass, returning south to till fields early.” 

Qu You had studied traditional culture for nearly a decade, dabbling in literature, history, and philosophy while practicing calligraphy. Though she could compose decent verses, something about her addition felt off.

Mr. White Snow’s tone carried a subtle melancholy within serene imagery, whereas her contribution leaned too optimistic, clashing slightly with the earlier mood.

Still, perhaps seeing her verse might offer some solace to the mysterious poet.

Sighing, Qu You reflected on the madam’s unhelpful testimony and the flicker of doubt she’d felt upon learning Gu Xianghui’s surname.

Zhou Tan… was branded a villain in historical records.

As a historian, she understood that historical accounts weren’t infallible and people should be judged from multiple perspectives. Yet, her subconscious had already formed a nuanced impression of Zhou Tan through their brief interactions.

Perhaps he was a villain—but not entirely heartless.

Yet, he hadn’t done anything particularly noteworthy, often treating her coldly and remaining aloof. The fallen woman likely knew him, casting suspicion heavily upon him. Why, then, did she instinctively seek to exonerate him in her mind?

Pondering further, she considered the possibility: if Zhou Tan were indeed complicit in Gu Xianghui’s plight—not necessarily persecuting her directly, but tacitly condoning the abuses of power—it would align with the suppression of scandals described in unofficial histories.

It made logical sense, yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that Zhou Tan wouldn’t stoop to such deeds.

Lost in thought, Qu You suddenly noticed a figure standing silently beyond the thin screen.

Zhou Tan stood motionless at the threshold, having observed her quietly for an indeterminate amount of time.

Noticing her awareness, he approached. Seeing her addition to the poem, he paused momentarily.

“How did you get out here? Are the interrogations finished?” Qu You coughed, attempting to mask her scattered thoughts. “By the way, have you seen this? Who is Mr. White Snow?”

“Hmm,” Zhou Tan replied nonchalantly, glancing sidelong at the screen. “How would I know? Empty rhetoric, indulging in self-pity.”

Despite his dismissive words, he hadn’t ordered the screen removed.

Qu You recognized his characteristic duality.

Circling around the screen, she changed the subject: “Did you uncover anything useful?”

“The enforcers and servants at Fangxin Pavilion kept mum, revealing nothing. However, beggars and thugs near the entrance recognized the man surnamed Yan,” Zhou Tan explained. “He was the deceased’s lover. I’ve had someone sketch his likeness based on descriptions.”

So Northern Yin already employed composite sketches!

Qu You took the scroll from him, puzzled. “How do they know he’s surnamed Yan?”

“The doormen always addressed him as ‘Young Master Yan.’ He frequently arrived by carriage, rarely on foot, and was seen exclusively with Miss Gu, leading us to believe he was her lover.”

Qu You nodded, examining the rough sketch: “Uh… isn’t this rather crude?”

Only clothing details were depicted, with no facial features.

“This depicts an official’s round-collar robe, jade cap ornamentation, and occasionally a mandarin collar cloak,” Zhou Tan pointed out. “Few dress this way, but I recognize it.”

Following his explanation, Qu You realized she too had seen someone matching this description: “Ah—he’s from the Ministry of Punishments?!”