"Hurry and begin."
With those words, Zhuo Qing stepped forward and parted the gauze curtains, entering first.
Shan Yulan gently lifted the veil as Yan Hongtian strode in confidently, followed by Xu Xunsi. Hu Xi'ang attempted to go in as well but was stopped by Shan Yulan.
Clicking his tongue in dismay, Hu Xi'ang stood beside the curtain, still able to faintly glimpse the corpse lying on the ground.
Lou Xiyan glanced at Su Ling beside her, assuming he would return to his seat—yet to her surprise, he stood just like her outside the drapes, watching the scene inside with lively curiosity.
Seeing the three had taken their positions, Zhuo Qing donned her gloves and inspected the tools while asking,
"Shall we begin?"
The body on the floor lay stiff and cold, the skin tinged with a bluish-black hue, the eyes grotesquely bulging—stripped of all former beauty.
No one could behold such a corpse without feeling dread and revulsion. Yet she asked, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, with utter calm. Yan Hongtian couldn't help but admire her fortitude.
He nodded slowly. "Proceed."
Zhuo Qing made her first incision at the throat, carefully extending it down into the thoracic cavity. Though the bleeding wasn't excessive, the scent of blood instantly flooded the grand hall.
Watching a human chest being split open before his eyes, Xu Xunsi was overwhelmed by a wave of nausea. The person lying there was his own sister. He looked away several times, unable to bear the sight.
Throughout the autopsy, Zhuo Qing remained focused, dissecting with practiced hands while offering a steady and coherent explanation—as if she had performed countless postmortems before.
"There is a small volume of dark reddish fluid within the thoracic cavity. Both pleural membranes are adhered to the chest wall. The thymus is swollen. The positions of the thoracic organs are normal. The heart is markedly enlarged, the myocardium darkened and showing signs of infarction. The aortic wall is smooth. Coronary arteries are severely sclerotic. Minor petechial hemorrhages are visible on the endocardium. The cardiac muscles are rigid. Both ventricles are hypertrophied.
The kidneys are dusky and discolored; the capsules easily stripped. The lungs are both atrophied, with multiple reddish-brown petechiae on the surface. Sectioning reveals a dark red interior."
Her clear, cold voice echoed through the hall, harmonizing with the metallic tang of blood in the air—eerie and unsettling.
As expected, retching sounds were soon heard—unsurprising, for not everyone could endure such a scene.
If only a spinal cord and cellular examination could be done, to observe the follicular and red pulp changes—how much better it would be. Zhuo Qing sighed once again at the inconvenience of having no equipment.
As she prepared to examine the airway, a pristine pair of gloves was held out to her.
"Change these—there may be toxins in the blood."
She looked up. It was Shan Yulan offering the gloves, his gaze fixed intently on the corpse, burning with a fervor she recognized.
She too had once been like that—eager and exhilarated by every new dissection. Clearly, he had not had many opportunities for such procedures.
Shan Yulan's heart pounded. Though he had performed his share of autopsies, never before had he witnessed one so meticulous. Her expertise and familiarity with the human body far exceeded his own. He had to know—who had been her teacher?
Zhuo Qing changed into the new gloves and resumed her work, this time deliberately slowing down, making each movement clear for Shan Yulan to observe.
"The esophageal mucosa shows no signs of corrosion or hemorrhage. Gastric contents are sparse. There is mild adhesion on the gastric mucosa, but no evidence of bleeding, necrosis, or perforation. No abnormal odors are present."
Switching blades, she made a lateral incision into the cranial cavity and continued,
"There are multiple hematomas within the skull, centered around a pin-sized wound. The blood is murky, with a salty, fishy scent."
With the primary examination complete, Zhuo Qing finally raised her head and addressed the three men, each wearing a different expression.
"The heart, lungs, and kidneys show clear signs of toxin erosion. Cause of death is confirmed as poisoning. The esophagus and stomach display no signs of ingestion-based poisoning—the wine she consumed was clean.
The fatal wound lies at the back of the skull. Poison was introduced directly into the bloodstream via a needle puncture, inducing rapid cardiac paralysis and renal failure.
Do any of you object to this conclusion?"
"None," Shan Yulan replied first. Yan Hongtian merely gave a cold nod—he was deeply shaken by her performance. Three years... she had truly changed.
Xu Xunsi nodded quickly, then fled the hall, unable to bear another moment.
With no objections raised, Zhuo Qing began to carefully suture the wounds. Yan Hongtian gave her a complicated glance but said nothing as he exited the curtained area, followed closely by Shan Yulan.
Back on the imperial throne, the empress bit her lip in fright, her breath unsteady.
"If you're afraid, return to your chambers," Yan Hongtian said with a frown.
"I—I am fine," the empress stammered.
Turning away with evident disdain, Yan Hongtian fixed his gaze on the still-pale Xu Xunsi.
"Third Prince," he said coldly, "since the princess did not die from drinking the wine provided by Qiongyue, but from a poisoned needle piercing her brainstem—what have you to say?"
Still reeling from the horror, Xu Xunsi retorted bitterly, "Is His Majesty accusing me of murdering my own sister?"
"We have yet to determine the truth," Yan Hongtian said, "but you are currently the most likely suspect—"
Before he could finish, Zhuo Qing's quiet, astonished voice drifted from behind the curtain.
"He... is perhaps the least likely to have committed the crime."
Her voice, cold and distant, cut through his words. Yan Hongtian's expression darkened—was this woman deliberately opposing him?
Had she not just declared her findings? And now she absolved Xu Xunsi?
Shan Yulan, trusting her judgment, quickly asked,
"If the cause of death was indeed a poisoned needle to the back of the head, and the Third Prince was the only one to approach her—why do you claim he is the least likely perpetrator?"
Zhuo Qing stepped out, lifting the gauze curtain. In her hand was a porcelain tray.
"Because I found this during the cranial suture."
Initially, she had believed the wound at the back of the skull was directly caused by a needle. It wasn't.
"This is..." Shan Yulan peered at the tray.
Upon it lay a thin black strand, just thicker than a hair and over an inch long.
After studying it for a moment, Shan Yulan hesitantly said, "A silver needle?"
Xu Xunsi leaned in as well. The object looked more like a strand of poisoned silver thread.
Zhuo Qing nodded. "Now tell me—which of you is capable of driving a needle so fine an inch deep into the back of the skull, without fracturing bone, and all while standing so close?"
Her gaze swept the room before resting on Su Ling—surely, among them all, the general was the most skilled in martial arts.
Shan Yulan presented the tray to Su Ling. The general glanced at it, unfazed, and replied honestly,
"I couldn't do it."
Zhuo Qing shrugged. No further explanation was needed. If even the great General Su Ling couldn't manage it, how could Xu Xunsi possibly have done it?
If he'd truly used a hidden weapon, he wouldn't have rushed over so quickly to draw suspicion. After all, the poisoned needle had guaranteed Xuyanyun's death.
Her self-assuredness was blinding.
"So you know who the killer is?" Yan Hongtian pressed.
"No," Zhuo Qing replied flatly. "I only conduct autopsies, not investigations. The rest is his responsibility."
She was a coroner, not omniscient. If even the general could admit his limits, so could she.
Zhuo Qing retreated to the long table behind Lou Xiyan, intending to sit and rest.
But a bitter, piercing gaze clung to her back, sending a chill down her spine—
She had forgotten... someone else was still there.