Chapter 117: Refilling and Street Rescue

Di Ying tucked the paper into his sleeve and opened the toolbox that Peng Liang carried with him everywhere. He began a preliminary examination of the corpse. The results only deepened the gloom. Every wound and bloodstain indicated that Luan Chao had indeed taken his own life. Di Ying instructed Liu Liu and Shi Shi, who were waiting outside, to enter and carry Luan Chao’s body to his examination room.

He walked over to the desk, took the "suicide note" from his sleeve, and compared it one by one with the books, documents, and papers left on the desk that contained Luan Chao’s daily handwriting. It was essentially confirmed that the note had been written by Luan Chao himself. However, the handwriting on the note was slightly shaky, and there were water stains on the paper—likely Luan Chao’s tears. Some were droplets, some had been smeared by hand, and others were continuous streaks. It was impossible to tell if he had been forced to write it.

The study was clean and orderly. In a censer in the left corner, a faint wisp of smoke was still rising. Di Ying twitched his nose and recognized it as a soothing incense. The books on the shelves included the Four Books and Five Classics, as well as expensive volumes and records, all in pristine condition.

Di Ying asked Peng Liang, "Based on the arrangement of this study, do you see anything?"

Peng Liang blinked his starry eyes and replied, "This person... likely lacks true scholarship. Furthermore, as someone who frequently dealt with disabled individuals and wished to avoid being looked down upon for it, he learned to put on an act—a pretense. But he didn't do it very well. The flowers in the main hall look neat and pretty, but they are common varieties. The tables and chairs were provided by the yamen, so there's nothing to discern there. However, this study is filled with items meant to display a refined taste. The small objects are arranged with excessive precision; he must be a narrow-minded and stingy person."

Di Ying smiled and nodded. He added, "He was not of high birth; his father was a scholar who repeatedly failed the imperial examinations. The yamen personnel files record that Luan Chao only passed the child's examination. He was assigned to work at the 'Disability Center,' where he learned sign language and was later transferred to the yamen as an interpreter. Look at the calligraphy and paintings on the wall: they are all forgeries. He desperately wanted to appear cultured and fit his position, but only succeeded in creating something incongruous. Yet, looking around this room, even if all the paintings and books he bought were genuine and expensive, they wouldn't equal a fraction of the illicit wealth gained by those deaf and mute individuals over the past few years. Where did the rest of the money go? Is it truly as he confessed—spent on lust and gambling?"

As he spoke, Di Ying checked the windows, sills, under the tables, and inside the drawers—every corner. No matter how he looked, there was no sign of anyone else having been there. Even the footprints belonged only to Luan Chao’s own shoes.

"If I cannot track the whereabouts of the money, I will not accept that he died, or how he died," Di Ying declared. He turned to Qian Wu at the door. "Qian Wu, take Sun Qi and the portrait I drew of Luan Chao; go to the brothels, taverns, and teahouses in the city and make inquiries. Zhao San, Xu Si, you two investigate: since the moment Luan Chao passed by the window, who has he been in contact with? Where did he go? Who has entered or left this courtyard? Liu Liu, Shi Shi, you two interrogate Ren Lin and Zhu Xiang respectively. Ask them where they went after passing the window, and what they did. Did they see anyone or hear any unusual noises around the time of Luan Chao’s death? Tang Eleven, Wang Twelve, just wander around the yamen. Say that Luan Chao was murdered and see who reacts suspiciously, then follow them."

After giving his orders, Di Ying recalled something and hurried out. "Little Peng, prepare the horses. We are going to the Luan residence."

Di Ying suspected that with Luan Chao dead, his family might be targeted for silencing by whoever had truly taken the money. Luan Chao had parents, three wives and concubines, and four children. His family members were the ones who knew him best, and questioning them should reveal more about his character.

As one cannot gallop through the busy market, Di Ying and Peng Liang chose smaller streets or alleys, letting their horses trot along. The black horse Di Ying rode was the one he had originally borrowed from Yao Cong. After Di Ying had "lost" the horses, both were found and returned to Yao Cong, who then sent them back to Di Ying—this time as a gift, not a loan. The horse was in its prime, and Di Ying named it "Black Cloud."

Black Cloud was highly intelligent and required little guidance. As they passed through an alley and saw more pedestrians on the street, Black Cloud automatically slowed its pace, careful to avoid the crowd. When a child ran from the left side of the road to the right, Black Cloud, observing the situation, stopped its hooves. Only after the child had passed did it move around the spot and resume its trot. Every time this happened, Di Ying marveled at the horse’s spirit.

Suddenly, a commotion broke out ahead to the right. Black Cloud stretched its neck to look, then nudged Di Ying’s leg with its large head while moving toward the scene.

"I know," Di Ying patted the horse’s neck and dismounted as Black Cloud drew near.

Like master, like beast. Although Black Cloud hadn't been with Di Ying for long, it had picked up his "habit" of meddling in other people's business. Peng Liang stepped forward to push through the crowd, and Di Ying followed.

Lying on the street in front of a shop was a man in his seventies. The old man’s head was wrapped in a white cloth; he lay on the ground with eyes tightly shut, lips turning purple, and beads of blood seeping from his ears. Some onlookers wanted to lift him, while others tried to plug his ears with objects.

Di Ying called out sharply, "Do not lift him! Do not plug his ears, or he will die faster!"

He moved to step forward but was blocked. "Who do you think you are—" The speaker had not finished when someone else dragged him away, whispering, "Official robes! He’s wearing official robes!"

The crowd scattered. This saved Di Ying the trouble of clearing the air. He knelt beside the old man, took off his official robe, rolled it into a bundle, and cushioned the back of the man's head. Seeing it wasn't high enough, he signaled Peng Liang. Peng Liang, wearing a close-fitting suit, couldn't remove his gear, so he darted into a nearby clothing shop, grabbed several bolts of fabric, and returned. Together, they stacked the fabric to prop up the old man’s upper body.

Di Ying tilted the man’s head slightly to one side and pulled out his pouch of golden needles. Three needles were inserted. After a dozen breaths, the old man slowly opened his eyes.

Di Ying held up four fingers and waved them in front of the old man. "Sir, how many fingers is this?"

The old man’s eyes followed the fingers, and then... he glared at Di Ying.