Lighting a Lantern at Your Brow - Chapter 2

Chapter Two

A chaotic uproar erupted outside, voices overlapping into a tangled mess of shouting and noise.

Yun Xi braced herself against the windowsill and looked out, only to see the river surface bubbling with movement—like dumplings being tossed into boiling water. In mere moments, more than ten people had jumped in.

The boatman from the skiff was nowhere to be seen. The ones who followed into the water were all servants from the pleasure boat, most of whom had been drinking. Drunken and disoriented, they barely recognized each other, let alone had the presence of mind to rescue anyone.

Yun Xi rushed to the riverbank with two constables and called out sharply over the water, “Anyone not involved, get back on shore!” Then she turned to her men. “Go, now!”

The two constables understood immediately. Without hesitation, they stripped off their outer robes and dove headfirst into the river.

By now, the morning patrol had arrived. Yun Xi turned to one of the guards. “Go get a physician, quickly!” She scanned the water again—still no sign of the boatman. Addressing the remaining patrol officers, she ordered, “Round up everyone from the pleasure boat for questioning. Someone find the boatman who was steering the skiff earlier.”

Not long after, the physician arrived. The sun was beginning to break through the horizon, casting a pale glow over the river. The physician peered at the water and asked, “How long has he been under?”

“It’s been about one incense stick’s time,” Yun Xi replied.

The physician shook his head. “You should call for the coroner instead.”

An ordinary person could last no more than half an incense stick’s time before drowning. After a full incense stick, even an immortal would be beyond saving.

The onlookers hesitated for a moment when they heard the physician suggest calling the coroner, but none showed any real regret.

And why would they? The Third Young Master was infamous throughout Jinling—he had caused trouble in life, and now, in death, it seemed the world had finally rid itself of a scourge.

Yun Xi pressed her lips together, saying nothing. Ultimately, it had happened while she was on duty, a failure on her part. The rest of the world may have wished for Cheng Chang’s demise, but she found herself hoping he would survive.

“There! Over there! We’ve found him!”

A sharp-eyed servant standing on the riverbank pointed at the water and shouted. One of the constables surfaced, dragging a lifeless body as he swam toward shore.

Immediately, bamboo poles were extended, oars reached out, and two men even jumped in to assist.

But it was no use. Cheng Chang was already dead.

The physician checked his neck, under his nose, and at his wrist before pressing down on his abdomen, forcing a stream of river water from his stomach. His body jerked slightly, but he was limp—like a fish laid out for slaughter. His legs twitched, but there was no breath left in him.

The drunken flush had faded from his face, replaced by a cold, lifeless pallor. Yet even in death, Cheng Chang’s features remained striking—his long, elegant brows, high-bridged nose, and the small beauty mark near his cheek, like a touch of frost against his otherwise flawless skin. His lips, though pale, still carried a sheen, reminiscent of the first morning light upon new leaves. His eyes remained closed, but their shape held a lingering sharpness, a certain quiet depth. If they could open again, one might wonder how much of the world’s beauty they had once held.

“Such a pity,” the onlookers sighed to themselves. “Such a waste of a face.”

The Young Prince of Prince Cong’s Manor was dead, and under highly suspicious circumstances. There was no way this wouldn’t be investigated. None of the constables present wanted to take responsibility for such an ominous case, so all eyes turned toward the highest-ranking officer—Yun Xi.

She considered the situation. Prince Cong was currently out of the capital, having gone to escort the emperor back from the southern tour. There was no way to inform him immediately. For now, she ordered someone to return to the Jingzhao Prefecture to report to the magistrate.

“Constable Yun, what about… the Third Young Master?”

“Put him on a cart and take him back to the prefecture. The coroner can examine him there,” Yun Xi said, glancing at Cheng Chang’s body.

She pulled aside the constable who had retrieved him from the river. “How did you find him?”

“He was at the bottom of the river,” the constable murmured, lowering his voice. “Both sleeves were stuffed with heavy gold bricks. He was already unconscious when he fell in—probably didn’t even struggle before sinking.”

Someone like Cheng Chang, a pampered aristocrat, wouldn’t bother carrying silver notes, let alone gold.

And Yun Xi had been watching him before he fell in. The only person who had been close enough to touch him was the boatman on the skiff. Yet the moment Cheng Chang hit the water, the boatman vanished. That meant those gold bricks had likely been stuffed into his sleeves on purpose.

Right then, the constable Yun Xi had sent to find the boatman returned. “We couldn’t find him,” he reported. “The moment the Third Young Master fell in, he must have slipped away underwater. We asked around—this boatman frequently works on the river. He’s an excellent swimmer. He has a young daughter, just came of age last year, and…” The constable hesitated. “She was harassed by the Third Young Master. Nothing actually happened, but… after that, the girl lost her mind. If I had to guess, that’s why the boatman went after him.”

Another constable asked, “What’s the boatman’s financial situation? Does he own land or have savings?”

“He’s probably dirt poor,” another officer scoffed. “He rows boats for a living. How much money do you think he has?”

But Yun Xi understood why the question had been asked. If the boatman was penniless, then where did he get two gold bricks?

Clearly, he wasn’t the only one who wanted Cheng Chang dead.

Yun Xi had been about to send someone to investigate whether Cheng Chang had made any enemies recently, but she quickly reconsidered. With the way Cheng Ming Ying had lived his life, the number of people who wanted him dead was likely beyond counting.

A man who had wronged so many—where would she even begin?

And now, how was she supposed to report this? If she couldn’t come up with an answer, would she lose her job as a constable as well?

Yun Xi glanced at Cheng Chang’s body once more. If only he were still alive…

The constables were in the process of lifting his body onto a cart when someone slipped, nearly flipping him onto the ground. Thankfully, Yun Xi reached out just in time, preventing his face from hitting the ground. With combined effort, they finally secured him onto the cart.

No one noticed that in the brief moment he was jostled, the supposedly lifeless Third Young Master’s fingers twitched—once, then again.

Back at Jingzhao Prefecture, Yun Xi ordered Cheng Chang’s body to be placed in a small chamber in the back hall before going alone to report to Magistrate Zhang.

Zhang Huailu, the Prefect of Jingzhao, did not hide his displeasure upon seeing her. “Did I not assign you to keep an eye on him? How did a man end up dead under your watch? When His Majesty and Prince Cong return, how do you expect me to explain this?”

Yun Xi replied calmly, “I was watching him the entire night. I even saw the boatman steady him when he boarded the skiff before handing over my shift.”

She then gave a detailed account of Cheng Chang’s fall into the river and concluded, “The servants with him were all from the prince’s manor, and the courtesans on the pleasure boat were regulars. Beyond that, there were no outsiders. However, the water itself hasn’t been fully investigated. Last night was the Flower Festival, and the Qinhuai River was packed with people—it was chaotic. I suspect someone may have been lurking in the water beforehand. In my opinion—”

“Enough, enough,” Zhang Huailu waved her off before she could finish. “I’ll handle this investigation myself. You’re no longer needed.”

He gave her a long, assessing look before continuing. “Yun Xi, I only allowed you to work here out of respect for your father, the Marquis of Zhongyong. But you are still a noblewoman. A lady working as a constable, running around in public, was already inappropriate. And now this mess? In my opinion, you should resign from this post. As for the cause of the Third Young Master’s death, I will investigate it personally.”

Yun Xi froze.

She had only been ordered to observe the pleasure boat from a distance—she had no duty to personally protect Cheng Chang. His death was ultimately due to his own lack of guards. What did it have to do with her?

But she quickly understood. Cheng Chang’s death would undoubtedly provoke Prince Cong’s fury. The court, too, would demand an explanation. And now, by dismissing her, Jingzhao Prefecture was making a statement—that Cheng Chang’s death was her fault.

Yun Xi glanced at Zhang Huailu, knowing that at this point, defending herself any further was futile.

She pressed her lips together before saying, “Lord Zhang, ever since I took on the role of constable, I have carried out my duties with diligence, never once neglecting my responsibilities. While I did not slack off in the matter of the Third Young Master, I acknowledge that there was indeed a failure on my part. I ask you to give me a chance—I will uncover the truth and ensure that the Third Young Master does not die without clarity.”

But Zhang Huailu only sighed. “It’s not that I’m unwilling to keep you in the prefecture. You know as well as I do that with the recent victory in the north, General Pei will soon return to the capital. You… still have a marriage agreement with him. The Pei family holds high status and prestige—what do you think he would feel upon learning that his future wife is working as a lowly constable, exposing herself in public every day?”

“Miss Yun Xi,” Zhang Huailu continued, his voice carrying an air of fatherly advice. “I won’t sugarcoat my words, but every single one is spoken with your best interests at heart. Your family has lost all its men—you don’t even have a patriarch to make decisions for you. I pity your circumstances, which is why I’m saying this plainly. Right now, do you really think this job is the most important thing for you? A woman’s lifelong fortune is tied to marriage. Second Young Master Pei is a husband any woman would dream of—marrying him will grant you a future woven in gold and silk. Your path to wealth and honor is right in front of you. Don’t throw it away over something as trivial as this job. If you keep insisting on being a constable, allowing others to seize upon your shortcomings and whisper behind your back, you may very well ruin a perfectly good marriage. Wouldn’t that be a terrible loss?”

“But…”

Yun Xi’s throat felt dry.

Pei Lan was indeed an ideal match—handsome, accomplished, and with a bright future ahead. But all of that was just what others saw. It was superficial, distant. There was no deep affection, not even a real connection between them. Even if she were willing to marry him, was he truly willing to marry her?

Besides, she did not want her entire life to hinge on another person. She only wanted a job, a way to stand on her own, to carve out a life for herself.

Her father once said that no matter what, one must never lose their pride and conscience.

“Even if you remain in the prefecture, the highest you’ll ever rise is to the rank of head constable. Look around you—there are thousands of officials above you in rank. But if you marry into the Pei family, that would be a completely different story. In all of Jinling, apart from the imperial family, how many noble houses stand above the Pei clan? Even if you become a concubine instead of a principal wife—whether it’s because of the Third Young Master’s death or because of rumors surrounding you—you would still be elevated far beyond your current position. No one would dare look down on you anymore—”

“Lord Zhang, what are you trying to say?” Yun Xi abruptly looked up, her gaze sharp.

Was he telling her that she wouldn’t even be given the chance to prove her innocence? That the decision had already been made—that she would bear the blame for this failure and be pushed into seeking protection through marriage?

Before Zhang Huailu could respond, a sudden commotion erupted outside. A junior clerk burst into the hall, panting and pale as a ghost, barely able to get the words out. “M-M-My Lords! The Third Young Master—he… he has come back to life!”