In a marketplace no bigger than an acre and a third, it did not take long to find out through whose connections Feng Tong had become a Shìlìng.

The Shìlìng, brought over by the constables, looked uneasy. When he arrived in front of Lin Fei, Liu Yuan, and the others, he hurriedly bowed.

“This humble one…this humble one greets you, gentlemen…”

Lin Fei and the others looked back and sized up the Shìlìng, whose hair and beard were mostly white and who was not young. He spoke fluent Chang’an Mandarin and had the typical appearance of a Guanzhong native. Judging from his mannerisms, he seemed to be a “veteran of Chang’an” and not someone who had come from elsewhere to make a living.

Indeed, that was the case. The constable stepped aside and briefly explained the old Shìlìng’s situation: “We’ve investigated, and so far, we haven’t found anything amiss. He’s just a Shìlìng whose family has some connections in the market area; his position is practically ‘hereditary’. Because he’s a ‘native of Chang’an’, he owns a house and two shops. He saves on housing, and the shop rent supplements his income, so he has no worries about food and clothing. The job of Shìlìng doesn’t require much effort compared to other jobs; managing the market vendors is all he needs to do. For someone with no ambition, there’s nothing…” For someone burdened with the pressures of food and lodging, the position of Shìlìng, though not well-paid and not demanding, was perfectly suited.

Hearing this, Lin Fei nodded and asked, “He was the one who recommended Feng Tong?”

The constable gave an “Mm” and said, “We asked already. He personally had no acquaintance with Feng Tong and had never met him before. The reason he recommended Feng Tong was because… because the people over at the Internal Affairs Department… hinted that he should recommend Feng Tong.”

The constable emphasized the words “Internal Affairs Department”, noticing a slight change in Lin Fei’s and the others’ expressions, but not surprisingly.

Previously, in the case of the Goguryeo envoy, the fallen Prince Yu had controlled the Internal Affairs Department through its chief steward. After Prince Yu’s downfall, the chief steward was also implicated and fell from grace, leading to infighting and chaos within the Internal Affairs Department.

Of course, since the Internal Affairs Department had little to do with their Dali Temple, they didn’t care about the internal strife, and they certainly didn’t expect that the Internal Affairs Department would get involved in a new case so soon after the Goguryeo envoy case.

Lin Fei turned to the anxious old Shìlìng and, instead of asking the constables, asked him directly, “Who advised you?”

The old Shìlìng hurriedly replied, “It was Steward Mao from the Internal Affairs Department.” Before Lin Fei and the others could ask further, he quickly explained, “Last month, a Shìlìng from out of town couldn’t afford to support his family in Chang’an. He calculated that even at seventy or eighty, he probably couldn’t afford a house in Chang’an. After some consideration, he resigned and went back home.”

The Shìlìng’s job was easy, but not everyone could live off an easy job. A house in Chang’an wasn’t so easy to buy. Cutting losses was a way out! The old Shìlìng thought to himself and then shook his head. His monthly salary was barely enough for basic necessities; if he weren’t a native of Chang’an with some accumulated wealth, he wouldn’t dare rely on the magistrate’s position to support his family.

“Steward Mao knew there was a vacancy here, so he called me over, saying Feng Tong was a distant nephew of his. Hearing there was an opening, he felt it was a waste to leave the position vacant and asked what I thought.” The old Shìlìng chuckled bitterly and said to Lin Fei, “Sir, to be honest, the Shìlìng’s position is highly coveted by us ‘old Chang’ans’! As soon as someone knows the position is vacant, many people want it. Even for the money, I wouldn’t choose someone I don’t know, like Feng Tong. But Steward Mao is from the Internal Affairs Department. He often came to the market to give us advice on market planning, and we dared not offend him, so we gave our positions to Feng Tong.”

As for the matter of Feng Tong being a distant nephew of this Steward Mao…

The old Shìlìng frankly said, “The two are nothing alike. Feng Tong looked like someone who made a living by physical strength, while Steward Mao was well-fed and delicate. They are completely different kinds of people. Moreover, although Steward Mao’s position is not high, the post is very lucrative. If he really wanted to give his distant nephew a post, he would have done so long ago. Why wait until now?”

Although he understood that this was just Steward Mao’s explanation, the old Shìlìng dared not ask any further questions.

The marketplace was not large, and though everyone there was merely common folk who rarely encountered nobles or important figures, the waters within ran very deep.

Lin Fei, upon hearing this, turned to the constable beside him.

The constable nodded, indicating that they had verified it already and that there was nothing wrong with what the old Shìlìng had said.

Lin Fei hummed in agreement and then asked the constable, “Where is the steward surnamed Mao?”

The constable replied, “We’ve already sent someone to fetch him!”

Just as he finished speaking, several constables came rushing over from not far away. These were his colleagues who had gone to the Internal Affairs Department to fetch Steward Mao earlier. Seeing these men approaching with grim expressions, a sense of foreboding arose. Having handled many cases daily, they had developed a certain “intuition”. Seeing their colleagues’ expressions before they even reached them, one of the constables spoke first: “Has something happened to that man surnamed Mao?”

Several constables nodded and hurried over in a few quick strides. After briefly raising their hands in greeting and calling out “Lin Shaoqing”, “Liu Sicheng”, and “Bai Sicheng”, they began speaking: “The one surnamed Mao was found hanged in his home. According to the servants hired by the household, he was perfectly fine last night and even instructed them on what breakfast he wanted the next morning. When the servants prepared breakfast this morning and went to call for him, they pushed open the door and saw that he had hanged himself with a strip of white silk. By the time we arrived, the household was already in complete chaos and was just about to report it to the authorities.”

“This guy surnamed Mao is probably a scapegoat,” Liu Yuan couldn’t help but say upon hearing this. “He has someone behind him.”

As for who might be behind Steward Mo, they would have to investigate Steward Mo further.

So… he needed to go to Steward Mao’s house.

Liu Yuan looked up at the sky: it was already past 9 AM, and there was only one hour left before lunch.

No wonder… Touching his stomach, Liu Yuan thought to himself: No wonder my stomach is almost empty; I should make room for lunch.

He wondered what Master Wen would make for lunch today.

…

“Achoo!” Wen Mingtang, who had been nagged by Liu Yuan, walked to the side and sneezed.

Hearing the sneeze, Tangyuan hurriedly said, “Master Wen, did you catch a cold yesterday while working on this crispy pork belly?”

As the end of the year approached, the weather was getting colder and colder, and getting out of the warm bed in the morning was a kind of torture; one wished they could stay under the covers forever.

Wen Mingtang shook her head and said, “I only sneezed once. I guess someone was talking about me!” With that, she washed his hands again, returned to the counter, and continued preparing the dishes.

(End of Chapter)

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