Husband, save me!

Chapter 005: Husband, Save Me!

In truth, only three people resided in the grand courtyard: the old madam and a pair of aged servants who were her contemporaries.

Yet today, the blood of these three had almost entirely stained the front yard.

Before the hall, beneath the eaves, upon the pillars, at the edge of the doors—everywhere the eye landed bore ghastly witness to a recent act of unspeakable cruelty.

“Grandmother!” At last, Zhu Xishi found her mother-in-law lying in the center of the main hall, but she could only stand frozen at the threshold, unable to take a single step closer.

For though the old woman's head remained, her limbs had been separated, scattered elsewhere.

Fang Rulai, who had followed behind, shivered at the sight. As he turned his head, he glimpsed a dark figure vaulting atop the courtyard wall.

“Who’s there!” he shouted. Hearing the commotion, Zhu Xishi whirled around and gave chase.

With a swift leap, both of them scaled the wall in pursuit.

Something flickered in Fang Rulai’s mind—something too quick to grasp.

The old madam, though sharp-tongued, was a recluse, rarely leaving her home—hardly one to invite vengeance. Her only son had died five years prior, and in order to survive, she had sold nearly all her valuables, leaving the household destitute—so greed as a motive seemed unlikely.

What, then, could have driven someone to slaughter not just her, but all three elderly residents?

Fang Rulai’s gaze fixed on the blood-soaked butcher’s knife discarded nearby. Such a blade—so broad and long—would only be kept by a professional butcher. So, was this the murder weapon? Could it be a rival of Zhu Xishi seeking revenge? Yet her kindness to him was far more than just a serving of braised pork.

He glanced down at the spirit tablet in his hand—Zhu Xishi’s late husband—and then at the mutilated old woman, her mother-in-law. Gritting his teeth, he reached out and picked up the butcher’s knife.

Closing his eyes, the most recent exchange replayed vividly in his mind.

“Old woman, don’t you think your severed left hand looks lovely?”

A muffled whimper.

“Shall we take your left foot next?”

The whimpers grew more frantic.

“Oh my, my hand slipped. Does it hurt, old woman?”

The whimpers shuddered like a sieve.

“Old woman! One last time—will you sell it or not?”

The whimpering abruptly ceased, followed by a long silence.

“Die, you old hag!”

…

Then, nothing.

Fang Rulai’s eyes snapped open, and with a thud, he collapsed onto the ground. He had actually heard the old woman’s voice! Until now, he had only ever sensed the voices of people who had directly touched an object.

So, had the killer forced the old woman to sever her own limbs, just to coerce her into selling something? The cruelty was beyond reason—an outrage against heaven!

He took several deep breaths to steady himself, then closed his eyes once more. The exchange had been brief—too brief to identify the killer by voice alone. He needed to sense further back, to find some clue that might stand out.

But just as he shut his eyes, the main gate of the courtyard was kicked open with a resounding bang.

He opened them again in haste to see a swarm of constables, blades drawn, surging into the yard like a hive of bees, shouting, “Murderer! Surrender at once!”

At their head was Chief Constable Xing of Shengjing Prefecture, who didn’t spare Fang Rulai a glance. “Seize the killer!”

At his command, several blades were leveled directly at Fang Rulai, with an air of absolute certainty—he was the murderer.

Fang Rulai glanced at the butcher’s knife in his hand, a sudden rage flaring within him. No questions, no investigation—just dumping the blame on his head. Did he look so guileless and simple as to be easily bullied?

“Bring up the murder weapon,” Xing ordered.

A constable stepped forward, but before he could reach out, Fang Rulai swiftly hid the butcher’s knife behind his back. “No. I can’t give it to you.” If he handed it over, not only would the old woman never rest in peace, but his own fate would be sealed.

“Oh? The little monk intends to resist arrest?” Xing was momentarily taken aback, then burst out laughing with his men. “Strange things happen every day, but today is especially extraordinary.”

“Indeed,” the constables jeered knowingly. “This morning we heard that the young Lady Guan insisted on marrying a monk, and this afternoon we’re arresting a monk who butchered three elders.”

Xing’s face darkened. “Little monk, don’t tell me you’re the one who caught the embroidered ball this morning?”

There had been such a crowd and commotion earlier that not everyone had seen what happened, or taken in Fang Rulai’s appearance.

Fang Rulai opened his mouth to explain, but another constable spoke first. “Impossible! They say the monk this morning was a virtuous master, willing to break his vows to save a life, and blessed by the heavens.”

“That’s right—I heard he had the air of a true monk. Not like this one here, who looks as demented and depraved as they come.”

Fang Rulai’s brow twitched, his grip faltering so the knife nearly slipped from his hand. How could he be both dignified and depraved at once?

“Enough. Speak your piece before the magistrate. Take him away!” Xing turned to leave.

Fang Rulai’s voice rang out. “I have an alibi.”

“Oh? And who would that be?”

“The widow Zhu Xishi, the pig butcher outside the city.”

“Zhu Xishi?” Xing burst into laughter once more. “It was because someone saw Zhu Xishi fleeing from here, covered in blood, that we came to apprehend the murderer.”

A constable added, “Everyone knows Zhu Xishi and her mother-in-law never got along! Who’s to say you and the little widow didn’t kill the old woman together after your affair was discovered—”

“Amitabha,” Fang Rulai interrupted, “I ask you to speak with restraint.”

He suddenly straightened his posture and bowed with solemnity, stunning the constables into brief silence.

Xing regarded him deeply. “So the little monk insists on his innocence?”

“Of course.”

“Then why were you holding the murder weapon?”

“Because…” He wanted to find clues to catch the real killer—but he couldn’t say that. No one would believe him.

“Well? Why?” Xing’s smile was all teeth. “Because you fancied yourself able to divine the culprit from it?”

The constables burst into laughter again. “Does he take himself for a living Buddha?”

“Take him away!” came Xing’s order. The constables stepped forward, shackling both monk and blade, and led him from the yard.

Xing reasoned—let him keep the murder weapon if he liked; soon enough, he’d be thrown into the death cell anyway. Once Zhu Xishi was captured, their days would be numbered until their execution at the city gates.

Fang Rulai didn’t resist. He was already racking his brain for how, on the way to the yamen, he might discreetly sense something from the knife—some clue beyond a mere voice that could help him.

Just then, a shrill cry split the dusk: “Guan Shiyin, give me back my mother’s life!”

The voice was a little high-pitched, and though the words were filled with rage, there was an unmistakable note of theatricality, as if deliberately put on.

Fang Rulai jolted as if struck by lightning. That was the voice.

Focusing, he saw Guan Shiyin crawling toward him in panic, the remnants of a shattered wooden chair at her back, her wedding clothes still on but her veil lost, long hair flowing wildly like lake weeds.

Upon seeing Fang Rulai, Guan Shiyin cried out in delight, “Husband, save me!”

And thus, the drama-loving enchantress took the stage once more…