Chapter 1791 - The Mystery

The killer's cunning was evident at every turn—meticulous in planning, ingenious in execution, and ice-cold in composure. When patrol officers discovered the corpse only to abandon it, he calmly returned to collect it and proceeded with his original scheme. Even while fleeing, he had the presence of mind to exploit Zhenbo Garden's cleverly designed back door to relock it behind him. Such audacity spoke volumes about his character.

His methods of concealing the body and staging Wang Xiuzhu's death as suicide revealed an intimate familiarity with traditional yamen investigative procedures. Either this was a seasoned jianghu veteran with an extensive criminal history, or a former constable who had once served in the government offices himself.

That the murderer left the silver in Widow Wang's home untouched eliminated robbery as a motive. Professional killers who murdered for profit never went to such elaborate lengths to dispose of corpses—every stratagem he employed was aimed at burying the crime itself.

His knowledge of the route and the Shan-Shaan Guild Hall suggested someone local, or at least a long-term Guangzhou resident.

From the accumulated evidence, the criminal police assembled a rough profile: a young male between twenty-five and thirty years of age, clean-shaven, scholarly in appearance and demeanor. Height approximately 160 to 165 centimeters, foot length around 24 centimeters. Physically agile, possibly trained in martial arts. Spoke Guangzhou Mandarin, knew the local terrain intimately, and very likely lived within the city.

Such a sketch alone was far too vague to issue an arrest warrant. The investigators needed more. It was then that the coroner's autopsy report arrived.

The coroners serving Guangzhou's prefecture and two counties had all been retained in their positions. Though their techniques were crude and riddled with errors and superstitions, they possessed centuries of accumulated experience. Until proper forensic doctors could be trained, these men would have to suffice.

Coroners occupied the lowest rung of the lictor class. Their work made them pariahs whom everyone shunned like plague victims, so the profession invariably passed from father to son. Experience accumulated, but theoretical knowledge relied almost entirely on the ancient text Records of Washing Away Wrongs—wholly inadequate for modern criminal investigation. The prohibition against dissecting corpses crippled their examinations most of all. For this reason, Liu San had been specially invited to perform the autopsy as a forensic expert.

The report that now arrived was a hybrid document reflecting both examinations. Its conclusions: the deceased was a middle-aged male stripped of all clothing, estimated between forty and fifty years old, short and corpulent, with soft skin on hands and feet indicating a life of wealth and leisure rather than labor. Most shocking of all, someone had completely severed the victim's genitals with clean, precise cuts—performed, the report noted, after death.

Wu Xiang drew a sharp breath when he read this. The victim's genitals, removed entirely—what depth of hatred could drive such an act? Reading further, he learned the cause of death was decapitation. Yet the dissection revealed a large quantity of alcohol remaining in the stomach. Combined with the absence of defensive wounds, the victim had apparently been plied with drink until he was helpless, then slain.

"I see it now—this is unquestionably a 'flower case,'" Gao Chongjiu declared. His pursuit of the Tanka boats had yielded nothing, and he had rushed back to the bureau upon receiving word the corpse was found.

If the victim had been a child, the mutilation might suggest human traffickers harvesting organs for sorcery. But for a middle-aged man? The postmortem castration admitted no reasonable explanation except a crime of passion.

Wu Xiang and Li Zhenguo agreed with this assessment. The question remained: what manner of romantic entanglement could provoke a murderer to first behead, then emasculate his victim? Such profound hatred suggested grievances on the scale of a murdered father, a stolen wife, or a slain son.

"Could this be the work of Wang Xiuzhu's late husband's kinsmen?" Li Zhenguo ventured. "We might start our investigation there..."

"If her late husband still had kinsmen, Wang Xiuzhu would have been remarried off long ago," Gao Chongjiu countered. "Willing or not, she would never have been permitted to remain in that house alone."

Among poor families, a wife was property—all the more so one who had been purchased. If Wang Xiuzhu's husband had died without issue but left brothers in his clan, they would inevitably have taken her as a bride to solve the bachelor problem. Failing that, they would have sold or pawned her for whatever money she could fetch. As for the house itself, no clan would ever leave such property to a lone and helpless widow.

"So her late husband couldn't have had local kinsmen," Gao Chongjiu concluded. "Otherwise, would they have permitted her to live freely on her own? Besides, when relatives catch an adulteress, they're after money, not blood—certainly not murder executed with such brutality."

Wu Xiang considered for a moment. "One point we can establish: the murderer is not Widow Wang's lover—or rather, not the lover who had been living in her house."

The evidence was clear. The men's clothing found in Wang Xiuzhu's home didn't match the suspect's build at all, but corresponded closely to the victim's physique—indicating these garments belonged to the dead man. Moreover, undigested food extracted from the victim's stomach matched the leftovers discovered at the scene, proving he had eaten his final meal in that house.

"Sister-in-law Liu said the suspect arrived late and departed early, indicating he didn't reside there. Physical evidence confirms he wasn't a regular inhabitant. Yet Old Cui's information establishes that someone was indeed living in the Wang residence—and that permanent resident was almost certainly our victim. But the suspect was clearly familiar with Widow Wang, and clearly spent the night. I believe all three knew each other, perhaps quite well. The exact nature of their relationship merits deeper investigation."

"Could this be a 'one woman, two husbands' arrangement that bred jealousy?" Gao Chongjiu suggested.

"Jealousy is plausible, but 'one woman, two husbands' doesn't fit," Wu Xiang replied. "That arrangement is a desperate measure for poor men who cannot afford wives. Neither the victim nor the suspect appears impoverished—they wouldn't resort to such expedients. And to suppose Wang Xiuzhu was juggling two lovers? A woman of unremarkable appearance and advancing years—where would she acquire such allure?"

Everyone acknowledged the logic of his reasoning.

"Our most urgent task remains identifying the victim." Even as Wu Xiang spoke, doubt gnawed at him. His mentor, Chief Mu, had always warned that homicide investigators dreaded nothing more than an unclothed corpse found in the wilderness—such bodies were notoriously difficult to identify.

In the old timeline, police could employ household registration systems, missing persons databases, fingerprint and DNA archives, and facial reconstruction technology to identify nameless bones with high probability. But in the seventeenth century, they had nothing beyond a newly established baojia registration system. Here, no one reported missing persons because the yamen simply didn't handle such cases. To determine how many people had vanished recently, they would have to mobilize baojia networks to investigate household by household—an enormous undertaking with no guarantee of success.

Wu Xiang was unfamiliar with such advanced technology, but he knew that in the Police Bureau's mortuary outside the city, dozens of suspicious corpses already awaited identification and claiming.

Gao Chongjiu, a veteran of bureaucratic work, understood these difficulties intimately. After some thought, he said, "I believe we should start with the items the lover left at Widow Wang's place. Her dressing box came from Purple Treasure Studio—the clerk might remember who purchased it. The ring too, and the clothing left behind—all can be traced."

Wu Xiang agreed immediately; it was their only viable approach. They divided the work accordingly. With criminal police shorthanded, Li Ziyu and Zhao Gui were temporarily reassigned to assist.

Gao Chongjiu's assignment was to leverage his underworld connections. If anyone matching the suspect's description had appeared recently, surely some word would have circulated among the city's foxes and rats—the petty criminals and informants who knew everything that transpired in the shadows.

Ordinary yamen constables always cultivated networks of "ears and eyes"—what modern times would call informants. Gao Chongjiu had worked the streets for decades and was sworn brothers with the head of the Guan Di Temple, the local gang hierarchy. He commanded considerable status in Guangzhou's gray world and controlled numerous informants. He settled into his usual teahouse, and before long, several key contacts had gathered.

Experience told him that a case as sensational as the South Scissors Alley murder would spread throughout the city within days. The underworld would inevitably produce some useful intelligence.

But when he inquired about the headless corpse in South Scissors Alley, every informant claimed to know nothing.

This anomaly seized his attention. He pressed further, asking whether anyone had encountered a young man matching the suspect's description. Again, unanimous denials. A few promised to ask around, but Gao Chongjiu's practiced eye recognized hollow gestures when he saw them.

"Could Boss Gao have issued a gag order?" he muttered to himself. Such occurrences were rare. Though the Guan Di Temple commanded enormous influence in Guangzhou, they adhered to the principle of not opposing authority directly. They generally avoided capital crimes like robbery-murder. When the government pursued a case, they typically cooperated. Even when the matter touched important figures within their own ranks, they would quietly "negotiate terms" with the constables and offer up a few scapegoats—anything to let both sides save face.

Gao Chongjiu recognized the growing complexity of this investigation. Whatever was unfolding, it was no simple murder. He resolved to employ other channels, investigating covertly to discover what game Gao Tianshi was playing.

Li Ziyu and Zhao Gui, meanwhile, drew the most tedious assignment: physical evidence screening.

The work itself wasn't difficult—only meticulous attention was required. Upon receiving his orders, Li Ziyu's first action was to take the silver ingots recovered from Widow Wang's house to the smelting shops for investigation.

Silver ingots were not, strictly speaking, official Ming currency—merely a de facto medium of exchange that the government tacitly recognized. Although official ingots boasted the finest quality and most accurate weight, the state held no monopoly on their casting. Any shop or individual could melt and cast silver as they pleased. But since the process required specialized skill, most people entrusted this work to the smelting shops.

End of Chapter