Chapter 85: Apprentices and Wheat

Only now did Di Ying begin the examination of the bones.

At the same time, he was teaching his “apprentice.”

“When we encounter a corpse or a skeleton, the first thing we must do is smell it. Different odors can tell us many things.

“Then, by examining the throat bone, pelvis, toe bones, and so on, we determine the sex of the deceased. When taking notes, we begin with sex, approximate age, height, and weight.

“Once those are identified, we first inspect the membranes of the eyes and the pupils, then the nasal cavity and the other features of the face. The mouth in particular must be examined carefully.

“After that, we judge the time of death by the changes the human body undergoes after death, the condition of the eye membranes, the lividity, and so forth…”

As Di Ying’s deep, mellow voice unfolded in a calm stream, Song Wen, Peng Liang, and the ten guards were all utterly absorbed.

At the same time, each of them was memorizing furiously.

Especially Song Wen.

He wished he could grow eighty more hands and eighty more eyes.

Record, watch, touch, and infer all at once…

Even though Di Ying spoke at a measured pace, pausing after each point so that Song Wen could feel it for himself, Song Wen was still in such a flurry that he could hardly keep up, terrified of missing even a single word.

He had long since forgotten any nausea or revulsion.

When the sun climbed to the center of the sky, the work of examining the bones while teaching finally came to an end.

Di Ying asked Song Wen, “Now then, tell me what you think.”

At this, Song Wen looked over his notes again, then carefully reexamined several parts of the remains.

Only then did he answer cautiously:

“Based on the state of development and decay of the flies, maggots, pupae, beetles, and the like on the bones and in the surrounding area, the time of death should have been last year—that is, on the second day of the tenth month of the fifth year of the Great Xia calendar, sometime between the hour of Shen and the beginning of the hour of You in the afternoon.

“Cause of death: a blow to the center of the crown of the head from a heavy object.

“From this, it seems the deceased should indeed be Han Lixing.

“The object was not large. The dent it made is about the same size as if I had struck downward with a clenched fist held upright.

“But the force was obviously tremendous, shattering even the bones at the top of the skull. The fracture pattern is like a spiderweb.

“A hammer? Then how big would the head have to be?

“It seems more like it was made by the head of a smaller axe.

“But most axe heads are square, aren’t they? Or rounded at both ends, or squared at both ends?

“So what on earth could have left such a smooth, round mark?

“And to strike so precisely…

“Rather odd.

“And according to what you taught me earlier, this skeleton has quite a few old injuries.

“There are injuries from falls, bumps, and impacts, and even signs of animal gnawing.

“You also said these old bone injuries suggest that the deceased spent a long time herding sheep before death, and had several accidents while doing so.

“That means his family circumstances probably were not good.

“But the prohibition on eating meat was only issued two years ago. Before that, mutton still fetched a decent price. So how could he have lived so miserably?”

After hearing Song Wen’s analysis, Di Ying praised him.

“You remembered very clearly, and you have your own judgment now. Very good.”

That praise made Song Wen blush.

Blushing red, he said, “Sir is much younger than your student. Being praised like this by you makes me feel rather strange.”

Di Ying said, “…I learned it from my master. Let us consider this a discussion between equals, not master and disciple.”

Song Wen became curious.

Throwing aside the odd feeling, he asked, “You have a master too? Who was he? Was he famous? Very capable?”

Di Ying shook his head.

Thinking of that old man, he answered with some sadness, “I do not know his surname or given name. I met him when I was young. Every day he would have me go into the mountains to learn from him.”

Hearing that Di Ying did not wish to say more, Song Wen did not press further.

Just as Di Ying would not explain how the lightning had been obtained, or what poison had been given to Wu Chengsi, Song Wen, however curious he might be, would not ask.

Some secrets belong to one person alone.

“What shall we do next?”

Song Wen changed the subject.

Di Ying stood up and pointed toward the stream.

“Go on, let us soak in the water a while longer. All of us. After that, we will find something to eat. When we are done, we will go look for Han Lixing’s family and neighbors. Remember to pack up his remains and bring them along.”

Hanju Village was still fairly far from where they were now.

By the time they led the horses on foot, following the likely route Han Lixing had used to herd sheep, and finally reached Hanju Village, the sun was already slanting west.

Di Ying calculated the time it had taken them to walk there: more than half an hour one way.

Most of the route had passed along the foot of the mountains or through wild forest.

There were plenty of fresh sheep droppings and hoofprints in those stretches.

However, near the mouth of the valley, there were none.

It was likely that some other shepherd had gone around that valley.

“Who are y’all?”

Before they had even entered the village, an old farmer carrying a large water flask in one hand and a basket in the other blocked their way.

Seeing this, Di Ying stepped forward with a smile, preparing to greet him.

But Song Wen darted out first.

Without a word, he reached into the basket hanging from the old farmer’s other hand, took out a bowl, and held it out with both hands.

“Sir, we heard your village raises especially fine sheep, so we came to have a look. But we got lost on the way and only just found our way here. We’re half dead of thirst—could you spare us some water?”

“Oh, so you’re here to buy sheep.”

The old farmer’s guarded look vanished at once. He set down the basket and began pouring water for them.

At the same time, he called out warmly, “Come, come, all of you, over here under the tree. It’s cooler there. I’ll pour you some water.”

He spoke with a thick local accent.

Song Wen, while taking the water, even turned to grimace at Di Ying, then gulped the water down in one breath. Afterward he took the old man’s water flask and basket and carried them over to a large tree at the entrance to the village.

Around the tree was a low stone enclosure.

The surface of those stones had probably been smoothed by countless backsides and legs over the years until they shone.

The water the old farmer carried had all been boiled. After everyone had finished drinking, Di Ying said, “Sir, are you taking this water out to the fields? Is the wheat ready to cut this season? Why don’t you lead the way and let us lend a hand?”

“Oh no, that won’t do. Y’all are fine folk—how could y’all help us harvest the grain? That would be awkward as anything. Your clothes are worth more than the grain itself.”

The old man, hearing this, waved his hands repeatedly.

Di Ying stood with a smile and gently took one of the old man’s arms, walking alongside him as they moved forward.

“No matter. We’re all young and strong, and a bit of labor will do us good.

“Sir, is your field far from here? Over that way? Or this way? Whose field is this one here? Why is no one harvesting it?

“It’ll probably rain lightly the day after tomorrow. A lot of it has already been flattened by the wind. If it isn’t cut soon, it’ll rot in the ground.”