Being an emperor is not something he can do, so he can only rely on his connections.

The mortuary in the backyard of the Gaoyang County government office was perpetually filled with a lingering, chilling atmosphere, a mixture of lime, herbs, and some indescribable stench. Zhang Jingwei took a deep breath outside the door before pushing it open and entering. In the dim light, the senior coroner, Old Man Huang—also the father of the registrar Huang Liang, respectfully addressed as "Old Man Huang" by everyone in the office—was slowly and meticulously wiping several gleaming autopsy tools by the light of an oil lamp. On the mortuary, Hu Sheng's body lay quietly, covered with a white sheet.

"Old Man Huang," Zhang Jingwei called out.

Old Huang looked up and saw that it was the county magistrate himself. He quickly put down his tools and stood up: "Oh, it's you, sir. Why have you come to such a filthy place so late?" His face was deeply wrinkled, but his eyes were still sharp, with the calmness that an old coroner had with life and death.

"It's about Hu Sheng's case." Zhang Jingwei walked to the morgue but didn't lift the white sheet. "Dad, I've seen the body you examined earlier. The fatal wound is confirmed to be a stab wound to the back, straight into the heart. That's correct."

Old Huang nodded, his tone carrying a professional certainty: "Yes, sir, my goodness, the wound is so obvious, there's no way to examine it further. It was a single, clean cut... uh, I mean, the assailant was ruthless."

“I don’t want a fatal wound,” Zhang Jingwei turned around, his gaze fixed intently on Old Man Huang. “I need details, more details. Old Man, you’re so experienced, could you please help me out and take a closer look? Is there anything… overlooked?”

Old Huang frowned, his white eyebrows furrowing as he rubbed his hands together with some difficulty. “This… sir, isn’t my mortuary record detailed enough? The length, width, and depth of the wound, the angle of the blade, the pattern of the bloodstains, the location of the lividity… I’ve remembered everything I can. I’ve been a coroner my whole life, I know this much.”

Zhang Jingwei leaned closer and lowered his voice: "I want to know what he ate and drank yesterday, before he died."

"Ah?" Old Huang was startled and shrank back, waving his hands repeatedly. "Sir, aren't you making things difficult for this old man? You want to see the contents of the stomach? That, that means... that means cutting it open? No, absolutely not! This isn't some unsolved case. The murderer has confessed and signed the confession. It's the proper procedure to keep the body intact for burial. If we cut it again, we won't be able to explain it to the family! Besides..." He pointed to the mortuary, "I also checked the mouth and throat. There were no signs of poisoning swelling or blackening. The eyelids and nails were also normal. It doesn't look like poisoning, sir."

Ignoring his excuses, Zhang Jingwei extended his index finger and shook it: "How about a pot of Jia Family Shop's newly released ten-year aged 'Qingquanlie'?" Jia Family's liquor is a specialty of Gaoyang, especially the aged liquor, which is quite expensive. Everyone in the yamen knows that Old Man Huang is a connoisseur of fine wine.

Old Huang's Adam's apple bobbed noticeably, and a glint of longing flashed in his eyes, but he quickly put on a bitter face: "This, this isn't about the alcohol... Sir, my son Liang'er is very strict with me these days, he won't let me drink too much, saying it's bad for my health..."

“Huang Liang is my subordinate, and I am his superior.” Zhang Jingwei smiled, but his words carried an undeniable authority. “Just say that this wine is a gift from me to warm you up. Look at this late autumn night, the mortuary is cold and damp. Drinking some good wine can invigorate your blood and warm you up. It makes perfect sense.”

"Warm...warm up?" Old Huang's eyes softened a little, as if he was imagining the taste of that aged wine.

“That’s right!” Zhang Jingwei pressed on while the iron was hot. “But before you warm yourself up, you have to take care of this important matter for me first. Once it’s done, the wine will be delivered to your room immediately, warmed to the perfect temperature.”

Old Huang looked at the body covered with a white sheet with conflicted eyes, then at Zhang Jingwei's smiling yet resolute face, and sighed deeply, as if resigned to his fate: "Alas... sir, what's wrong with you... never mind. What do you want to examine?"

Zhang Jingwei's face showed a "you should have done this sooner" expression, and he pointed his finger lightly at the chest and abdomen of the corpse: "Esophagus, stomach. See what remains inside."

Old Huang's face fell again: "Didn't I tell you? It's probably just ordinary food and drink, no signs of poisoning! If we dig it open and it's clean inside, and we can't find anything, then the Hu family will come and make trouble, saying we're desecrating the corpse, and I'll lose my job..."

"What are you afraid of?" Zhang Jingwei waved his hand, his tone relaxed. "She'll sue? Sue whom? The government? I am the government. If the sky falls, I'll hold it up. Just do your thing, and I'll take responsibility for all the consequences."

Old Man Huang stared at Zhang Jingwei for a few seconds, then finally stamped his foot: "Alright! With your word, sir, I'll risk my old face! Are you sure you want to dig?"

"I'm sure!" Zhang Jingwei answered decisively.

Old Huang said no more, turning to the tool rack, his expression instantly becoming focused and solemn. He carefully selected several different types of thin-bladed knives, tweezers, and crochet hooks, then took a copper basin, water, and a white cloth. He adjusted the oil lamp, its dim yellow light enveloping the mortuary. He washed his hands, bowed slightly before the corpse, and muttered something under his breath, seemingly some kind of confession from the trade. Then, he steadily lifted the shroud, revealing Hu Sheng's pale, stiff chest and abdomen.

He picked up a slender willow-leaf knife, its blade gleaming coldly under the lamplight. Just as he was about to strike, he noticed that Zhang Jingwei had somehow retreated to the doorway, his body slightly turned to the side, his gaze drifting towards the dark night sky outside.

"Hmm?" Old Man Huang paused, puzzled. "Sir? Didn't you want to see? Why are you hiding so far away? What can you possibly see from here?"

Zhang Jingwei coughed lightly, a hint of embarrassment flashing across his face, but he quickly said confidently, "I... I'm squeamish about blood, I can't do this. Dad, you're highly skilled, just tell me when you're done. I'll wait here, it's the same."

Old Huang, knife in hand, stood frozen, his wrinkles seeming to deepen. After a long while, he shook his head, a mixture of laughter and tears in his eyes, muttering, "Sigh—! What kind of mess is this… Nonsense, utter nonsense." With that, he composed himself, ignoring the magistrate by the door, and focused intently on his work. The sharp blade precisely sliced ​​through the cold skin, separating the muscle to expose the interior. His movements were steady and practiced, possessing a cruel, professional beauty.

Time passed slowly in the cold, silent air of the mortuary. Only the faint sounds of knives touching flesh and bone, and Old Man Huang's occasional heavy breathing could be heard.

After an unknown amount of time, Old Man Huang finally straightened up and let out a long sigh. He carefully washed his hands and tools with clean water and dried them with a clean white cloth, but his face showed no sign of relief at solving the puzzle. Instead, his brows were furrowed, and he was full of worry. He walked to the door and whispered to Zhang Jingwei, who was standing with his hands behind his back, seemingly calm but actually tapping his toes on the ground from time to time, "Sir... I'm in trouble."

Zhang Jingwei immediately turned around: "How is it? What did you find?"

Old Man Huang shook his head, his voice bitter: "Just some ordinary food scraps, rice grains, vegetable leaves, minced meat... and some undigested wine. I examined them carefully, and they're all ordinary things, nothing special, and certainly no poison. Now look what's happened, the body's been exhumed, and nothing suspicious has been found... This is terrible, sir! If word gets out..."

Zhang Jingwei, however, did not seem too disappointed, but asked again, "Could you take a closer look? Is there anything... unusual? Like the smell of a certain medicinal herb? Or..."

Seeing that he was still persistent, and knowing that he had broken the rules of the trade, Old Huang became furious. He disregarded social hierarchy, threw the water-stained cloth into the basin, and raised his voice: "You brat! Are you deliberately trying to make things difficult for me, Old Huang? Huh? I've seen everything I was supposed to see! I've smelled everything I was supposed to smell! It's just a normal dinner! Clean and tidy! Are you satisfied now? Let me tell you, sewing this back together is more troublesome than tearing it open! If the family comes to make a fuss later, don't try to push this old man out as a scapegoat!"

Just then, hurried footsteps sounded outside the mortuary. Constable Yang Xiaoshuan burst in, panting, but his face was flushed with excitement: "Sir! Sir! We found it! We've made a major discovery at Hu Hai's house!"

Zhang Jingwei's eyes suddenly lit up, and he patted Yang Xiaoshuan on the shoulder: "Well done!" He then turned to Old Man Huang, who was still sulking, and his tone immediately softened, even becoming apologetic. He pointed to the mortuary board: "Um... Old Man, thank you for your hard work. Please sew him up carefully as much as possible, and make sure the stitches are tight. I'll have someone send over two jugs of wine first thing tomorrow morning!"

Old Huang looked at Zhang Jingwei's face, which had changed instantly, and then at the corpse with its chest opened. He was so angry that his beard bristled. He pointed at Zhang Jingwei, his fingers trembling. After a long pause, he finally blurted out incoherently, "Ugh! No... you... you brat! This is simply... simply outrageous!" However, Zhang Jingwei had already taken Yang Xiaoshuan and hurriedly left the morgue, which was filled with a complicated smell. Only Old Huang was left facing the cold corpse and the unfinished stitching work, still fuming with anger.