In the spacious monk's quarters, where the flickering lamplight cast a dance of light and shadow, Chen Geng, Ye Nanqiao, and Cheng Wuyue were gathered around a table, deeply immersed in discussion. Cheng Wuyue was sharing his findings, pointing at the examination records spread across the table.

"I initially thought that the various symptoms indicated poisoning, but upon closer examination, there was no trace of any toxin. Instead, all signs suggest that Luo Tianqi died from asphyxiation, more precisely, drowning," he explained.

Chen Geng pondered for a moment before asking, "How can we be certain it was asphyxiation?"

Cheng Wuyue explained, pointing to the records, "Spasms in the throat, protruding tongue, and the presence of petechiae in the whites of the eyes. Despite the external burn injuries, subtle signs of cyanosis were discernible on the lips and fingernails. Such abnormalities are beyond the capabilities of any poison."

Ye Nanqiao took a deep breath, her voice low, "Drowning... On the day of the incident, Luo Tianqi returned to his residence without any irregularities, right up until the fire broke out late at night. It's hard to imagine how he could have come into contact with a sufficient water source to drown in."

Chen Geng’s eyes narrowed as he added, "Even if there was a water source, it seems impossible that someone could drown an eight-foot-tall Luo Tianqi without being noticed."

Cheng Wuyue nodded in agreement, "This is exactly what baffles me. However, these physical signs do indeed differ from asphyxiation caused by strangulation or other means."

In the silence that followed, the flickering lamplight illuminated their thoughtful faces. The complexity of the case only seemed to deepen.

Outside, the wind stirred, whispering through the window lattice, its subtle sound breaking the quietude. Chen Geng stood and walked towards the window, gazing out at the star-studded night sky.

Ye Nanqiao, still gazing at the table, suddenly said, "Today, I saw Luo Caihuan with a peculiar scar on her hand. It seemed deep and out of place, quite intriguing."

Cheng Wuyue looked surprised, "A scar?"

Ye Nanqiao nodded, "About the size of a fingernail, with an unusual shape. But I suppose it's unlikely to be related to Luo Tianqi’s death. I might be overthinking it."

Chen Geng turned, his eyes deep and thoughtful, "There’s something strange about Luo Mansion, a sense of hidden secrets. We must not take it lightly."

The night deepened, and under the lamplight, each was lost in their thoughts, waiting for dawn's arrival.

Meanwhile, at Luo Mansion, lights twinkled faintly. Mu Jing, hidden atop a roof, barely discerned the figure of Zhang Shi, Luo Tianqi's widow, in the dim light.

Outside Zhang Shi’s window, Wei Zhaoyang, clad in white, lurked silently. He twirled a wisp of smoke in his hand, which seemed to come alive in the breeze, intertwining with his white garment and black hair, like a spirit of the night.

Wei Zhaoyang stepped forward, his smoke swirling, mingling with the moonlight outside the window, casting a vague silhouette on the paper screen. It appeared to sway, as if Luo Tianqi’s soul was calling out to Zhang Shi.

Inside, Zhang Shi, lying in bed, suddenly felt her heart racing with unease. She seemed to hear a distant, hoarse, mournful call.

“Madam...” the voice beckoned.

Startled, Zhang Shi sat up, drenched in sweat. She tried to stand, but felt as if pinned down, unable to move. Clearing the paralysis, she rushed to the door and flung it open, only to see Wei Zhaoyang standing there, his white robe gleaming against the dark night.

“Who are you?” she screamed, panting.

Wei Zhaoyang merely smiled and then vanished into the night. His plan had succeeded.

Hearing Zhang Shi’s cries, the servants hurried over with lamps in hand.

Wei Zhaoyang had shed his white cloak and circled Luo Mansion before cautiously rejoining Mu Jing.

“Quite the performance, wasn’t it?” he remarked proudly to Mu Jing.

Mu Jing, looking down at the flustered servants, replied coolly, “Child’s play.”

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The two spent the night on the rooftop, watching the dawn break over Luo Mansion. The morning's light bathed the mansion in a soft golden hue. In the distance, roosters crowed, heralding a new day.

With light steps, the maid gracefully lifted the washbasin, its surface adorned with a few petals, releasing a faint fragrance. Zhang Shi sat before her dressing table, her face a shade of pale, clearly exhausted from the ordeals of the previous night, having hardly slept a wink. Her pen moved swiftly across the paper, the ink still glistening with a hint of wetness.

"Quickly, take this to the county yamen," Zhang Shi instructed in a low voice. The maid nodded, turned, and left with practiced ease.

Wei Zhaoyang and Mu Jing, who had spent the night hidden on the roof, noticed Zhang Shi's sudden move. Their gazes met, communicating silently, a tacit understanding formed in an instant.

Wei Zhaoyang's figure dissolved into the morning mist, while Mu Jing stayed back, quietly observing from above.

On the bustling streets, as the crowd grew and vendors began their calls, the maid carefully weaved her way through. Wei Zhaoyang, following at a measured pace, maintained an inconspicuous distance.

Soon, the maid arrived at the rear entrance of the county yamen. She glanced around cautiously before knocking softly. A clerk dressed in blue emerged, exchanging a few hushed words with her. Then, a middle-aged man hurried out.

Wei Zhaoyang recognized the man with a start of realization – he had seen him before in the funeral procession at Luo Mansion. "That must be the brother of Luo Yuansheng's second wife, an official in the yamen... Li Baocai, if I remember correctly," he murmured to himself, his eyes fixed on the two at the door.

Li Baocai took the note, his expression turning grave as he glanced over it. After giving a few instructions, the maid hurried away, and Li Baocai reentered the yamen without delay.

Hidden in the shadows, Wei Zhaoyang pondered the connection between Zhang Shi and Li Baocai. Given that Luo Tianqi was not blood-related to Li Baocai, how did his wife come to be involved with him? Their interaction suggested a clandestine relationship. What could be written in that note? The situation seemed more complex than initially thought. Shaking his head, feeling overwhelmed, he decided to report back to Chen Geng immediately, slipping away unnoticed.

The magistrate's office lay in profound tranquility, its expansive courtyards and ancient corridors shrouded in a sense of deep solemnity, with wisps of smoke curling up from the bronze censers.

Wei Zhaoyang strode into the main hall, where Chen Geng was engrossed in case files. Seeing Wei Zhaoyang's return, Chen Geng set aside his reading. "Have you unearthed anything of note?"

"Indeed. I frightened Zhang Shi last night, and today she showed her hand..." Wei Zhaoyang, hands clasped around his sword, recounted the day's events in detail, particularly noting Li Baocai's grave demeanor upon receiving the letter, appearing as if burdened by a guilty conscience.

Chen Geng furrowed his brow slightly, "It seems, then, that the relationship between Zhang Shi and Li Baocai is more than superficial."

"They may well be implicated in Luo Tianqi's death."

After a moment of contemplation, Chen Geng drafted a letter and handed it to Wei Zhaoyang. "Use this to lure Li Baocai out. Be vigilant and watch closely. If these two are indeed connected to Luo Tianqi's death, they must be apprehended without delay."

"Understood," replied Wei Zhaoyang, his eyes flashing as he scanned the letter, "Your wisdom prevails, sir."

With a wave, Chen Geng dismissed Wei Zhaoyang and sank back into his thoughts, his fingers thoughtfully caressing his chin.

Simultaneously, in the western district of the city, far from the official residence, Ye Nanqiao's steps were swift as she approached an inconspicuous little house.

The urgency of her knocks echoed like a sudden downpour, and after a brief pause, the door was answered by an elderly woman with white hair, her eyes flickering with a hint of wariness.

"What is it?" The old woman propped herself against the door frame, scrutinizing Ye Nanqiao with a discerning gaze.

"My sister is in labor, we urgently need your help..." Ye Nanqiao's voice was laden with urgency, fearing a rejection at any moment.

"The old woman has long since retired from this trade. You'd be better off seeking someone more capable," she replied dismissively, about to close the door.

Ye Nanqiao quickly steadied the door with her hand, fishing out a hefty silver ingot from her bosom and pressing it into the old woman's palm. "Everyone within ten miles knows of your unparalleled skills—this matter cannot wait, please do not decline."

The old woman scrutinized Ye Nanqiao, sensing the genuine desperation in her eyes. She weighed the silver in her hand and then nodded, "Lead the way."

Ye Nanqiao guided the old woman to the Drunken Life Pavilion, through the back entrance into a small courtyard, and then into a room.

The old woman hesitated upon entering, her eyes sweeping over the room's furnishings before landing on Cheng Wu Yue. Dressed in plain, elegant clothes, Cheng Wu Yue leaned against a chair made of rosewood, his gaze fixed on her impassively.

"There's no pregnant woman here!" the old woman frowned, enveloped by a subtle sense of unease. "What exactly do you want from me?"

As she turned to leave, Ye Nanqiao closed the door. Approaching the old woman, she said calmly, "We have something to ask of you. With so many prying eyes around, we had to resort to this strategy to bring you here. Please, don't be offended."

Ye Nanqiao then guided the old woman to take a seat and poured her a cup of tea.

The wariness on the old woman's face eased slightly as she sighed, "What is so important that you went to such lengths?"

...

In the room within the Drunken Life Pavilion, a gentle breeze filtered through, blending the trio's conversation into the tranquil morning light.