Chapter 10: The First Time Performing an Autopsy

A murder had occurred in the village, providing the perfect opportunity for Tan Jiuding to make his entrance.

Although the bereaved family was unwilling, they were forced to agree to the autopsy. Yet, since the deceased was a young maiden, it was inappropriate for Tan Jiuding to get too close. Thus, the task fell upon Xu Qi, who had never before had such an experience.

“Me?” she asked.

“Anyone in Gan Hua Village could be a suspect, but you—I trust you,” he replied.

Xu Qi didn’t even trust herself and instinctively avoided Tan Jiuding’s bright eyes, silently cursing her fate.

The image of Zhao Qing’s anguished face lingered, and now she was tasked with examining a hanged woman. That woman, dressed in a vibrant red wedding gown and swaying inside a sedan chair, still haunted her memories.

She had read many books—“Emergency Prescriptions Handed Down from the Elbow,” “Collected Records of Washing Away Wrongs,” and so on—was adept at clever tricks and meticulous work. The problem was, this was entirely different from dealing with a tangible, real corpse.

All theory and no practice... this time, she would be like Zhao Kuo leading troops to defeat.

Glancing over, she saw the woman’s family—likely her mother—wailing bitterly nearby. Compared to them, the silent, scrutinizing gazes of the other villagers were far more chilling. “Guarded” was too mild a word; it was more like... hatred.

They did not welcome her or Tan Jiuding’s presence.

Surrounded in layers, the atmosphere was oppressive, much like that gnarled ancient tree with withered branches that blocked the sun. If she made a single mistake, it seemed they might all rise up against her.

Xu Qi swallowed hard, thinking that if this was the only lead to find Zhiwei, she would have to grit her teeth and proceed.

“...Could you help me gather some Bittter Nosegrass?” she sighed to Tan Jiuding, catching the satisfied curl of his lips in her peripheral vision.

In the desolate outskirts, bamboo curtains and cloth screens were erected to create a makeshift mortuary. Inside the tent were only the deceased, Xu Qi, and two village women as witnesses.

Xu Qi applied crushed Bitter Nosegrass juice under her nose and reluctantly loosened the collar of the dead bride’s gown.

“First, examine the clothing one item at a time, including shoes and socks,” Tan Jiuding’s voice came through the curtain, instructing her on the procedure.

Following his instructions, Xu Qi painstakingly removed the wedding garments. It was far more difficult than she had imagined. She had thought that the dead and the sleeping were similarly unaware, so dressing or undressing them would be comparable. But after touching the corpse, she realized it was entirely different. Before she had even removed the inner garment, sweat drenched her back.

After considerable effort, she carefully examined everything, including areas soiled with filth. “No abnormalities. Everything is intact.”

Outside the curtain, someone took notes, then said, “Start from the head and work down to the feet. Describe any suspicious findings in detail. Also mention any birthmarks.”

“...No wounds or swellings in the hair, nothing on the face... eyes are clear but with some blood spots, tongue protruding...” Xu Qi recalled the faint smile on the bride’s face at death and shuddered. A chilling wind seemed to rise from nowhere.

The manner of death was clearly painful, so why did she look so peaceful and happy?

She shook her head to dispel the strange thoughts and continued her examination, gradually calming down. Her voice grew steady and confident.

“Clear signs of strangulation on the neck. One black mole one inch below the left elbow crease. Fingernails are mostly split... no other injuries on the front of the body.”

Uncertain how much the sun had shifted, Xu Qi finally finished a thorough check of the corpse, front and back. Just as she washed her hands and breathed a sigh of relief, nausea surged up, forcing her to rush into the grass and vomit violently.

“Thank you, you did well,” came a strangely gentle voice from the man, accompanied by a bowl of ginger honey tea. He had anticipated her discomfort and had someone prepare it in advance.

Xu Qi looked at him intently, took the bowl, and without concern for appearances, drank it down heartily.

Tan Jiuding snorted, pinching her wrist while massaging the Nei Guan acupoint. “It seems clear she died by hanging. I heard the previous four women who died also took their own lives.”

“This is truly eerie...” Xu Qi murmured softly, grateful for the man’s aid as her stomach settled.

She looked back at the rising cries of the crowd, watching them carefully place the corpse onto a cart to be taken back to the village. Each wore a sorrowful expression, completely different from the hostile stares they had earlier cast at her and Tan Jiuding.

“That poor girl didn’t seem to have any quarrels with family or neighbors. It was a joyous day—how could she have taken her own life?”

“Hmph, don’t forget, our star has yet to appear. That woman who stopped the sedan chair just now has disappeared. If we find her, perhaps we can learn something.”

No sooner had Tan Jiuding spoken than the group carrying the body halted.

Looking up, they saw a woman approaching—about in her thirties or forties, with gentle features and smooth hair styled in a sleek spiral bun, adorned with a single blunt copper hairpin. She wore a plain but tidy jacket, appearing to come from a humble but educated background.

However, tied around her waist was an unusual knot made of seven-colored silk threads, with a water buffalo horn horn dangling from it. It was strikingly conspicuous.

The woman smiled warmly at everyone she met, seeming kind. Yet, facing a recently deceased maiden and her grieving family, the smile became particularly eerie.

She was known as Granny Chun.

For some reason, Xu Qi’s mind immediately leapt to that name, sure it was her.

Tan Jiuding’s face darkened with caution as he fixed his gaze on the woman, observing her carefully.

“This corpse cannot be moved,” Granny Chun said calmly, her voice soft but seemingly imbued with a power that compelled everyone to listen.

The villagers and the bereaved stopped crying and all watched her.

“Today is the Cold Clothes Ghost Festival. A new death collides with the spirits. If you take Ah Chun back to the village now, it will open the door to death again. More will surely perish.”

“Ah!”

Her gentle words sent a chill through the crowd, throwing them into chaos. They clamored to her, begging for a way to resolve the danger.

“The magistrate has already sent officials to report the case. Before they arrive, just leave