Chapter 15: The Top Scholar Assassinated

The current imperial examination finally concluded without incident, and all those involved, including His Majesty the Emperor Mingde, breathed a collective sigh of relief.

After the palace examination, Emperor Mingde personally inscribed the names of the top three scholars of this year: the top scorer, Li Wenzheng, son of Suzhou’s wealthiest merchant, Li Jiuhua; the second place, Cheng Siqian, son of Cheng Xiu, Minister of Personnel; and the third, Yang Han, from the illustrious Yang family of Luoshan. All three had studied at Bishan Academy. Following them were several others who had achieved the title of “presented scholar.”

On this day, the sky was clear and the sun shone brilliantly. Suzaku Avenue, the busiest street in Shengjing, was teeming with people—so crowded that the city seemed deserted elsewhere, for the three top scholars were to parade on horseback along this very street.

On the second floor of the Serene Abode, by the window in a refined seat, sat three young people, each dressed differently, sipping tea. The one in moon-white attire, a half jade mask covering one side of her face, was Shen Qianmo disguised in men’s clothing. Beside her sat Xie Mingyu, elegant in white, as refined as an orchid, and across from them was the serious and upright Feng Ze. The three drank their tea quietly, watching as the parade approached below.

In the Da Sheng dynasty, it was rare for unmarried women to accompany young men openly in public, so Shen Qianmo had chosen to appear in male disguise.

Three tall horses carried three men dressed in crimson robes and black hats, surrounded by armored Imperial Guards. The three, basking in the glory of their triumph, looked elegant and spirited as they turned to greet the crowds on either side of the street, offering courteous bows to the onlookers.

“What do you think of this year’s top three?” Feng Ze asked Xie Mingyu earnestly.

Xie Mingyu took a sip of tea and replied unhurriedly, “In terms of talent, Yang Han surpasses the others.”

Of course, talent is only one measure in any imperial examination. For a ruler, countless factors must be weighed, the most important being balance. The distribution of the top ranks involves the delicate equilibrium of many factions. Only by maintaining such a balance can the nation continue in stability.

As a straightforward military man, Feng Ze had never cared much for the examinations. He simply despised those who would stop at nothing for fame and fortune. Realizing his question was perhaps trivial, he turned to Shen Qianmo. “What have you been up to lately, Brother Mo? I’ve visited the coroner Qin a few times to inquire about you, but he wouldn’t tell me anything.”

With Feng Ze, his tone softened unconsciously, and Xie Mingyu glanced at him with a hint of surprise.

Shen Qianmo gave a dry laugh. “Nothing much. I just had some free time and went to visit my master. I’ve been traveling these past years, and it had been a long while since I last saw him.”

She certainly couldn’t admit she’d been spending her days at the Marquis’s residence, discussing philosophy and career plans with a certain handsome gentleman, so she had to find an excuse.

“Brother Mo, your skills in post-mortem examination are truly admirable,” Feng Ze said sincerely. It was a disgrace that the mighty Da Sheng Ministry of Justice had no capable coroner to speak of. In his eyes, anyone with a true skill deserved respect. Yet the role of coroner was so undervalued that few talented people chose to pursue it. Someone as refined as Mo Xin, willing to master forensic techniques to such a degree, was a rarity.

During her conversations with Xie Mingyu, Shen Qianmo had been forming a new idea.

In fact, Xie Mingyu’s third reason for coming to the capital was to establish a Shengjing branch of Bishan Academy. Though the academy had a long and illustrious history, he felt it had become stagnant and resistant to change. He wanted to open a new branch in Shengjing, reforming admissions, curriculum, and teaching methods. Before coming, he had discussed his plans at length with his father, the Recluse of Pine Moon, and sought the advice of his grandfather, the Master of Mist. With their blessings, he arrived in the capital to investigate further.

Shen Qianmo mused that since the profession of coroner was so unappreciated, perhaps she could use this opportunity to introduce a course on forensic medicine or anatomy at Bishan Academy, thereby raising the status of the field. Of course, this was only a tentative idea—she knew the path to realizing such a plan would be long and difficult.

As the three chatted and sipped their tea, a sudden series of screams rose from the street below. Something had happened. They exchanged glances, stood, and leaned out the window—just in time to see a disaster unfold.

The once-proud top scholar, Li Wenzheng, lay on the ground beneath his horse, covered in blood. Cheng Siqian and Yang Han stood frozen, horror-struck, staring at Li’s body. Nearby, a young man in plain blue garb, unremarkable in appearance, stood gripping a blood-stained dagger, surrounded by Imperial Guards who had quickly recovered from their shock.

Feng Ze, startled, immediately leapt from the window with the grace of a martial artist. Shen Qianmo, envying his skill, hurried down with Xie Mingyu.

By the time they reached the scene, Feng Ze had already subdued the assailant, who was now held by two guards. The young man did not struggle; his gaze was fixed, unwavering, on Li Wenzheng lying in the pool of blood.

Shen Qianmo approached the fallen scholar, knelt, and examined his wounds, her brow furrowing. The injury was to the abdomen, the spleen ruptured—he was already dead. She shook her head at Xie Mingyu. “He’s gone.”

At her words, the blue-clad man gave a chilling, manic laugh. Shen Qianmo’s instincts flared—she looked up and, seeing his strange expression, called out, “Hold him, now!”

But it was too late. He bit down hard, and his body slowly went limp, collapsing to the ground, unconscious within moments.

Shen Qianmo hurried to examine the man, instructing Feng Ze to keep watch for any other suspicious figures.

The young man was dead—no visible wounds, his body perfectly normal on the surface. His condition was eerily reminiscent of the death of the impostor Du Yu.

While she was focused on her examination, Lu Ziqing arrived at the scene with yamen officers, having received the report.

Upon learning what had transpired, Lu Ziqing’s face darkened. The impostor Du Yu case was still unsolved, and now the emperor’s newly appointed top scholar had been murdered—this was even more disastrous.

Li Wenzheng was perhaps the most unfortunate top scholar in the history of Da Sheng, dead less than a day after his triumph—a true tragedy.

Seeing Mo Xin examining the murderer’s corpse, Lu Ziqing grew even more frustrated. Whether it was the impostor Du Yu or Mo Xin, he couldn’t uncover their true identities. In that instant, he found this mysterious Mo Xin highly suspicious.

His expression grim, he ordered, “Take both corpses away, and detain anyone here who seems suspicious.” After a pause, he pointed at Shen Qianmo. “And take this one as well.”

Take who? Shen Qianmo looked at Lu Ziqing in disbelief—was he planning to arrest her too? Had he lost his mind?

“May I ask, Lord Lu, on what grounds do you intend to arrest me?” Shen Qianmo asked calmly.

Lu Ziqing replied slowly, “I said to detain anyone suspicious. Your identity is unknown—you are highly suspect.”

Shen Qianmo was helpless. If she had known this would happen, she would have arranged a false identity with Xie Mingyu in advance, letting him vouch for her. With his reputation, no one would dare challenge it. But was there still time to coordinate their stories now?

“Lord Lu, you have no evidence—how can you detain someone at will?” Xie Mingyu interjected. Only he knew Mo Xin’s true identity, and if Qianmo were taken away, the consequences would be dire.

Feng Ze also glared disapprovingly at Lu Ziqing, shielding Shen Qianmo, making it clear he would not yield.

Lu Ziqing, accustomed to having his orders followed, ignored their protests and continued to command the officers, “What are you standing around for? Detain them!”

Just as the officers stepped forward to seize Shen Qianmo, and as Feng Ze and Xie Mingyu prepared to resist, a deep, hoarse voice cut through the clamor: “This is one of my people—who dares lay a hand on them?”