“I couldn’t sleep,” Chang Yuncheng said.

“Then…” She smiled and sat down too. “You’re still not used to it, having another person in the room.”

“I’m not used to it,” Chang Yuncheng replied, glancing at her.

Qi Yue smiled, said nothing, and closed her book after inserting a bookmark.

“I’m not used to it either. I’m thinking of ways. You think too, and we can discuss it…” she said after a moment’s thought.

Perhaps because the night was so quiet, the aura emanating from the man before her seemed different from usual.

Calm, peaceful… peaceful?

Qi Yue couldn’t help but purse her lips and smile; that word seemed rare when applied to Chang Yuncheng.

“What is this?” Chang Yuncheng didn’t address her words, but suddenly asked.

Qi Yue looked up to see Chang Yuncheng picking up her quill, examining it with a degree of curiosity.

“It’s for writing,” Qi Yue explained.

Chang Yuncheng grew more curious.

“Writing?” he repeated, lifting his hand and immediately scrawling something on the paper on the table.

“Ah, this is for my records,” Qi Yue quickly said.

Chang Yuncheng’s writing was already there on the paper.

The atmosphere tightened subtly.

“I apologize,” Chang Yuncheng suddenly said.

“It’s fine, it can be rewritten… Uh… What did you say?” Qi Yue started to laugh casually, but halfway through her sentence realized what he had said. Her eyes widened as she stared at the man before her; the candlelight wasn't bright, but the face looking back was definitely the same one.

Chang Yuncheng’s ears flushed under her gaze, and he stiffened his expression, tossing the quill aside.

Qi Yue smiled at him.

“It’s fine,” she repeated.

Chang Yuncheng turned his head, fixing his gaze on the book.

“You know how to do everything, yet you still read this?” he spoke again.

“One never stops learning, and actually, I’m really not that skilled,” Qi Yue laughed, simultaneously frowning slightly as she glanced at the man.

Was he… trying to converse with her?

“If I’m distracting you, I’ll stop looking. You…” she said with a soft smile, smoothing her hand over the pages.

“Mother and Aunt get along very well. You should spend more time over there; it’s good, and Mother will be pleased,” Chang Yuncheng said, his eyes fixed on the book.

In truth, whether Madam Xie was pleased or not had little to do with her.

“Oh, alright,” Qi Yue nodded, smiling faintly.

A period of silence fell between them.

“It’s getting late…” Qi Yue began, holding her hands together.

Chang Yuncheng interrupted her by speaking first.

“How did you discover that maid’s cause of death was unusual…” As soon as the words left his mouth, he looked awkward.

What sort of topic was this, in the dead of night…

Qi Yue was momentarily taken aback but quickly regained her composure.

“I’m a physician, so I’m very familiar with the human body. Besides,” she said with a slight smile, “there’s a saying: a corpse never lies; it tells you everything.”

She had learned this in dissection classes and had some exposure to forensic work in daily life.

Chang Yuncheng looked at her and smiled faintly.

“The coroner said the same thing,” he remarked.

Qi Yue was surprised and intrigued.

“Really?” She leaned forward slightly. “I’ve been meaning to ask, what did the coroner say was Ah Jin’s cause of death?”

It wasn't a glorious matter, and the detailed results of the coroner’s examination that day were only known to the Marquis of Dingxi and a few others. For people like Qi Yue, knowing that Ah Jin had been murdered was enough.

Chang Yuncheng glanced at the flickering candlelight. The North Wind howled against the window frames. What kind of conversation was this in the middle of the night…

However, seeing the woman show a look of genuine interest for the first time in days…

“He said she died from asphyxiation caused by foot pressure,” he stated.

“Foot?” Qi Yue questioned, a flash of realization crossing her face.

Chang Yuncheng gestured slightly.

“Like this. Taking advantage of her struggling during the caning, someone used their foot against her throat when no one was looking,” he explained.

Qi Yue sighed softly. “It’s a wonder they could even think of that.”

The atmosphere instantly grew heavy.

“Tell me,” Qi Yue looked back at Chang Yuncheng, absently turning the pages of the book before her, making a rustling sound. “Was it worth it? Why did she have to go to such lengths? That’s why I sometimes think your ways of thinking are quite strange…”

“She always hated my mother,” Chang Yuncheng admitted. “Because Grandmother and Father originally intended to marry her.”

Qi Yue looked at him.

“It was my maternal grandfather’s family who objected, so she ultimately entered the household as a concubine,” Chang Yuncheng clarified.

“Why bother, for true love?” Qi Yue muttered under her breath.

“What?” Chang Yuncheng didn’t catch it and leaned closer to ask.

“Nothing,” Qi Yue smiled, not wanting to delve into the topic any further. Everyone had their own way of life, worldview, and philosophy; some things couldn’t be explained or clarified.

A flicker of disappointment crossed Chang Yuncheng’s eyes as he sat up straight.

Qi Yue glanced at the water clock in the room.

“It’s gett…” she started again.

“That coroner…” Chang Yuncheng interrupted, speaking before she could finish. “He’s quite capable.”

“As capable as Song Ci?” Qi Yue swallowed the words she was about to say and quickly asked.

“Song Ci?” Chang Yuncheng was confused.

“He’s a remarkably skilled coroner who wrote a book called The Washing Away of Wrongs (Xi Yuan Lu). It details so much about autopsies; he can tell exactly how someone died just from a tiny wound—truly amazing,” Qi Yue said, raising her eyebrows slightly.

“Is that so? I haven’t read it,” Chang Yuncheng replied. “Even among petty thieves, there are masters.”

“Why are you calling them petty thieves?” Qi Yue frowned, displeased. “He’s a master of criminal investigation, speaking for the dead.”

Late at night… this woman certainly had spirit…

Chang Yuncheng coughed.

“Those people are low-born, after all…” he stated.

Qi Yue shrugged. Of course they were, with the rigid class structure of scholars, farmers, artisans, and merchants, plus the lowly class—damn that class prejudice. A coroner’s social standing was indeed…

“But that Coffin Boy is quite skilled,” Chang Yuncheng conceded.

Qi Yue’s eyes lit up.

“Oh? Coffin Boy?” she asked loudly.

Chang Yuncheng was startled by her reaction and felt a twinge of bitterness—was she only interested when speaking of others?

“He’s the son of the caretaker at the Yi Zhuang (Public Mortuary); everyone calls him Coffin Boy,” he explained.

Qi Yue made an ‘oh’ sound. That sounded similar to Song Ci’s background. Could this be Song Ci in a distorted timeline? He was a truly formidable talent. Her eyes shone. She absolutely had to meet him if she got the chance.

“Go pour some tea,” Chang Yuncheng suddenly said, feeling quite ill at ease.

Qi Yue looked at him.

“What time is it for more tea? It’s late. Go to sleep,” she countered.

She was actually telling him to leave! Chang Yuncheng’s face darkened further, and he remained seated.

“I’m not sleepy,” he huffed.

Oh dear, Qi Yue looked at him and laughed.

“I’m sleepy,” she announced, gesturing him out. “Your Highness, if you aren't tired, go sit in your own room. Or take a walk outside; I’m going to bed.”

It must have been an illusion—the peace from moments ago had vanished. As Chang Yuncheng’s face grew dark, the atmosphere became strained.

“This is my room; I will be wherever I wish to be,” Chang Yuncheng said slowly, lifting his chin, his haughty demeanor fully restored.

Here we go again, Qi Yue thought, looking at him.

“So you want to stay here right now?” she asked.

Chang Yuncheng picked up the book on the table, answering her with action.

“Fine, you stay here then. I’ll go sleep over there,” Qi Yue declared.

You… dare! Chang Yuncheng gritted his teeth but didn’t look up, hearing the woman pick up her bedding and stomp out. Moments later, she returned with her bedding and flung it onto him.

“You vile woman!” Chang Yuncheng yelled in mortified anger, shaking off the blanket that now covered him.

Qi Yue was already laughing as she ran away.

Chang Yuncheng stood up and watched the woman hurry into the sleeping chamber, slamming the door shut. Muffled laughter echoed from inside.

“Oh my, silly boy. Such a large bed, such a convenient washing room, such a warm chamber—the silly boy won’t sleep here, so I shall enjoy it!”

Chang Yuncheng stared at the inner room, a slow smile beginning to spread across his face, growing wider and wider.

“This wicked woman…” he murmured, turning back around. Seeing the quilt dumped on the floor, his face instantly darkened again. “She could have at least made the bed properly for Your Lordship…”

Outside in the courtyard, Ah Ru and Qiuxiang had been watching the light in the room anxiously. They finally breathed a sigh of relief when the lamp finally went out.

“Go,” Ah Ru whispered.

The two crept silently into the side room where the night guard was stationed.

The quiet night finally settled into sleep.

But at that very moment, in the Yi Zhuang outside the prefectural city, a single dim lamp flickered to life, appearing especially eerie under the howling North Wind. If anyone had seen it, they would have wet themselves in terror; of course, this place was deserted even during the day, let alone at night.

The light stopped before a door. A withered, thin hand suddenly reached out and tapped twice on the thin wooden panel.

The door creaked open with a grating sound, and the lamplight spilled inside, illuminating rows upon rows of thin wooden coffins.

A figure suddenly stood up.

Even though the visitor had been here several times, his hand still trembled slightly as the dim light shook.

“You’ve come. Come in; we have good merchandise today,” the figure said.

It was a clear male voice, sounding relatively young.

The visitor took a breath and stepped inside. The door was closed, and more lamps were lit within, making everything clearly visible.

It was a long, thorough room. Besides the rows of coffins, there were bodies wrapped only in wooden planks or thin mats, and straw cushions waiting for their occupants. Despite it being winter, the smell of decay still lingered in the air.

The visitor pulled his gaze from the corpses and looked toward the innermost section, where a long bed-plank lay. A person was resting there—of course, no living person belonged here—but a living person was seated beside it.

He had his back to the visitor and was busy with something, emitting a slurping sound.

“Wait for me a moment; I need to finish my noodles,” he said, turning around.

It was the man who had opened the door earlier. He looked about twenty-three or twenty-four, with fine, delicate features. However, perhaps due to his environment, his face was covered in a layer of cold stillness.

A strand of noodle hung from the corner of his mouth, which he slurped back into his mouth like a wriggling earthworm as he spoke.

“Doctor Wang, today’s case was beaten to death with clubs. Do you want to see what the internal organs of a man beaten to death look like?” he grinned, revealing his white teeth, and looked at the visitor.

The visitor was an elderly man, around fifty, with white hair and whiskers, wearing a hat and a finely tailored padded robe. He finally stabilized his nerves and suddenly blew out the lamp he was holding.

“Indeed, I wanted to examine this one. Thank you, Coffin Boy,” he replied.