28: The Headless Case That Shocks the Heart (Thanks to the Guild Leader)

Song Liuming tightened his robe and signaled the courtesan to fill his cup. He downed it in one gulp, a look of melancholy crossing his face as he recounted the tale.

The Zhu family was a scholarly household of Hangzhou, boasting two successful imperial scholars who held high positions at court. Their influence among the literati was considerable, and their estate spanned a thousand acres, tended by hundreds of servants—by any measure, a house of great wealth and standing.

As was customary among such powerful families, marriages were arranged to forge alliances. The Zhu family’s intended match was the daughter of the influential Deng family, whose patriarch held a prominent post in the current government. The Dengs were a local clan of considerable power, with many of their kin in officialdom—a truly distinguished family. The Zhu family, eager to cement this union, sent lavish betrothal gifts, and the engagement was set.

But two months ago, tragedy struck. The Deng family’s daughter died mysteriously in her own home, her head vanished without a trace. The engagement was thus abruptly annulled, and both families suffered grievous damage to their reputations. In the aftermath, they joined forces to pressure the authorities. The scandal grew, and constables scoured the city for the culprit, yet not a single clue could be found.

Song Liuming ended his account with a sigh, “A pity for Brother Zhu, who now spends his days lost in drink and sorrow.”

“There’s been no progress at all?” Yi Fan was incredulous. In Hangzhou, with such powerful families involved, how could there be no development in the case?

Song Liuming hesitated before answering, “There is a rumor that some demon was responsible, but no one truly knows the facts.”

“In my view, it must have been the work of a fiend. The victim bore traces of demonic energy—clear evidence of recent contact with some unearthly creature,” Zhuge Liuyun sneered.

“Brother Zhuge, you mustn’t say such things elsewhere—it could bring great trouble,” Song Liuming exclaimed, alarmed, and quickly stopped Zhuge Liuyun from speaking further. Both the Zhu and Deng families were renowned and highly protective of their reputations; reckless words could invite disaster.

Yi Fan, raising his cup to steer the conversation away, said, “Let’s not dwell on this, lest we add to our worries.” Then he asked Song Liuming, “Brother Song, you’ve been in Hangzhou for several months—have you passed the provincial exam?”

Song Liuming laughed heartily, a touch of pride in his voice. “Why would that be difficult for me? Naturally, I succeeded.”

“Congratulations, then! Passing the provincial exam entitles you to be called ‘Master Song.’ We must toast you,” Yi Fan teased, raising his cup in celebration.

Time slipped by swiftly, and by late afternoon the boat drew close to the shore. Not far off stood an inn. Yi Fan and his companions disembarked, agreed to meet again in Hangzhou in a few days, and bid each other farewell.

Before long, as the two walked along, they suddenly stopped. Yi Fan called out, “Friend, you’ve followed us quite far. Isn’t it time you showed yourself?”

From the moment they left the boat, both Yi Fan and Zhuge Liuyun had sensed they were being tailed. Skilled and confident, they hadn’t been concerned. The pursuer had shown no ill intent, so they let the matter be. But the persistent shadowing had grown tiresome; they decided to confront their stalker and learn his purpose.

After a moment, five or six figures emerged from a nearby corner. Leading them was the very Zhu gentleman they had seen earlier that day, the rest dressed as servants.

Yi Fan frowned. “Young Master Zhu, why have you followed us all this way?”

The man, seeing that the two showed no fear, realized they must be formidable. He cupped his hands in greeting, “I am Zhu Ziqiang. Greetings, revered Daoists.”

Zhuge Liuyun, impatient, said, “Enough—what do you want with us?”

At his tone, one of Zhu Ziqiang’s servants stepped forward angrily. “How dare you speak so to our master?”

“Do not be rude to the Daoists. Stand down!” Zhu Ziqiang rebuked his servant, then turned to the two, apologetic. “Please forgive my servant’s insolence. I hope you will not take offense.”

Zhuge Liuyun snorted dismissively and said nothing.

Yi Fan, not pleased either, replied coolly, “There’s no need for courtesy, Young Master Zhu. If you have nothing urgent to discuss, we must find a place to rest. Good day.”

“Please, reverend Daoists, wait,” Zhu Ziqiang called after them, hesitating before continuing, “Earlier today on the boat, I heard you mention that I have demonic energy about me. This has left me deeply troubled. I would be most grateful if you could explain.”

He knew his own affairs well enough. Since his fiancée’s inexplicable death, he had borne immense pressure and become a scapegoat for both families, suspected of bringing misfortune. The matter had become the talk of the scholarly world—he was the subject of ridicule and, if the case remained unsolved, his reputation would be utterly ruined.

He had taken to the lake that day to ease his mind, but hearing the Daoists mention demonic energy had given him pause. Despite the authorities’ fruitless investigation, rumors had long circulated that supernatural forces were at play. Such talk could not be wholly dismissed.

To guard against any trickery, he had brought several strong servants and staged a scene to test the two men’s reactions. If they were mere charlatans, he was sure they’d betray themselves. Yet both remained calm, even impatient, and he realized he was dealing with true masters. Overjoyed, he sought their counsel.

Yi Fan, seeing his approach, was unwilling to say more. “You mustn’t take the words of drunken men seriously, Young Master Zhu. We were merely tipsy—please forgive us.”

With that, he walked past Zhu Ziqiang, who could only watch him go. Zhuge Liuyun, however, scoffed, “You seek help and act as if it’s only right that others serve you. No wonder you fell victim to a demon. Serves you right.”

Zhu Ziqiang’s expression darkened. He restrained his angry servant and, watching the two leave, ordered quietly, “Find out where these Daoists are staying and report back.”

Fearing his servants might act rashly, he added, “Don’t provoke them—just find out what you can.”

Meanwhile, Yi Fan chuckled, “It’s only natural that wealthy young men look down on rustic Daoists like us. Pay it no mind, Brother Zhuge.”

Zhuge Liuyun waved it off. “That young man will come to us—mark my words, within a few days at most.”

Hangzhou was a large city, and no doubt there were skilled masters about. But the Zhu and Deng families lacked the means or the will, and those ‘experts’ they’d retained clearly weren’t up to the task or the matter would have been resolved by now.

Though they themselves were not famous masters, they were confident in their abilities and would not leave empty-handed.

Yi Fan glanced at him. “You mean to look into this business, Brother Zhuge?”

Zhuge Liuyun patted the sword case slung across his back. “Since we’ve encountered it, we can’t just ignore it. Besides, when demons prey upon the innocent, it is only right to slay them.”

“You’re right, of course,” Yi Fan replied after a moment’s thought, “but I suspect this matter is not so simple.”

“Whatever comes, we’ll cut through it with a single stroke of the sword!” Zhuge Liuyun laughed heartily.

And so, several days passed as the two wandered leisurely about Hangzhou, enjoying the sights. Seeing no sign of the Zhu family, they put the matter from their minds and made the most of their time.

Then, one morning, someone came calling. Stepping outside, they found an elderly man in fine clothes waiting respectfully with several servants in tow.

Yi Fan inquired, “May I ask who you are, sir?”

The old man bowed politely. “I am Zhu Zhen, steward of the Zhu household. Greetings, Daoist Yi.” He then turned to Zhuge Liuyun, who had just emerged from the adjacent room, and smiled, “And you must be Daoist Zhuge. Truly a remarkable gentleman.”

Seeing that neither replied, he dispensed with pleasantries. “My master has reserved a table at the Drunken Fragrance Pavilion and would be honored if you two would join him for a meal.”