Chapter Forty-One: Deadlock
The mute man's suicide had rendered the case even more complex. Li Yiting once again interrogated Zhang Jin, Zhang Kun, Xun Yuanchun, and the others, this time focusing on their connections to the mute. Their responses hardly varied: Zhang Jin insisted he had been double-crossed by his own criminal associates; Zhang Kun claimed he had barely any dealings with the mute; as for Xun Yuanchun, he said he had only heard of the man, for the mute's reputation was notorious—and not in a good way.
With the mute’s death, the investigation seemed to stall at theft, appearing to have no connection to murder. If there was any hope of a breakthrough, it lay with Black Qi, but he was still in the city and had deliberately gone into hiding; he would not be easily found.
In other words, after so much effort, all that Beiting had accomplished was the recovery of the Guanyin statue, which left everyone somewhat dispirited. Nevertheless, given the circumstances, they first went to Li Qiwen’s grave, used the statue to open the coffin, retrieved the Guanyin image buried with the body, and returned it to the new temple keeper Luo Ming.
The safe return of the village idol brought some peace to the villagers of Luoshui, easing the shadow of murder that had hung over them. Most still believed the Li brothers had suffered divine retribution rather than human malice. This superstitious belief filled people with both intense fear and a kind of numbness toward death.
Rumors of the Five Elements’ divine punishment continued to circulate in Li Village, spreading throughout Luoshui and growing ever more fantastical. Some swore that when Li Qiwen and Li Qiumao died, the heavens changed, and the god Erlang himself appeared in the sky. These tales left Beiting helplessly amused.
Chen Tianyu urged everyone to remain calm, to observe quietly unless further evidence of murder surfaced, to keep the thieves tightly under control, and to restrict Li Fuqi’s movements. They waited for news that the road to the city was open; as soon as it was, they would send the suspects to the police, apply for a new forensic investigation, and relaunch their inquiry.
For now, this seemed the most prudent course of action.
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Time slipped quietly by. Soon enough, it was the ninth day of the first lunar month. Qiu Xi brought word that, thanks to lighter rains, the construction crews had worked through the night to clear the road, which would reopen in two or three days. Spirits lifted; at last, the tension began to ebb.
Luoshui Village remained peaceful. The relatives of the suspects showed no reaction, as if the fate of their kin meant nothing to them—much to Beiting's relief. It spared him considerable trouble.
Life in Li Village resumed as well. After Li Qiumao was buried, the villagers busied themselves preparing for the lantern dance, which would take place from the ninth to the eleventh day of the new year. The lantern dance, like the dragon dance, was a major festival tradition, deeply valued by the people. This year’s celebration was especially elaborate, perhaps as a way to dispel misfortune and keep sorrow and fear at bay.
Human beings are remarkably capable of psychological recovery, especially through distraction.
Wan Yongkun, still injured, had to pass the duty of guarding suspects to Kuang Suo. Logistics remained in the hands of Liu Zichen and Shen Mingyue, and Li Yi also volunteered, mainly for the chance to be near Qiu Xi.
When a person is idle, injuries often seem to worsen. Such was the case with Wan Yongkun, who lay in bed groaning in pain, crying out loudly during bandage changes, which made people laugh. This brave man remained as willful as ever, venting his suffering with abandon. Yet his wounds were healing well, and he was clearly out of danger.
During these days, Chen Tianyu and Li Yiting met frequently, analyzing the investigation for any overlooked clues but to no avail. They reexamined the physical evidence and confirmed that the buttons and tool bag belonged to Li Fuqi. The verification was done quietly at Li Fuqi’s home, which was sparsely furnished and easy to search.
They also searched Xun Yuanchun’s house and uncovered his secret: his so-called levitation trick was nothing but a childish deception using nearly invisible wires and pulleys attached to the ceiling. The key to the trick was the lighting—his house was always dark, and even when he lit candles, they only illuminated small areas, drawing attention away from the wires, much like sleight of hand. Of course, Xun Yuanchun supplemented his act with intimidation and theatrics, using incense burners, yellow paper charms, and tortoise shells—cheap props that nonetheless brought him quick wealth overnight.
It was astonishing that such a crude trick had fooled the villagers of Luoshui for decades, who offered up their scarce food and goods to this charlatan with pious devotion. The two investigators could only sigh—how many such swindlers still plagued the countryside?
It was clear that the state’s crackdown on rural superstition was necessary. Still, there was a distinction between superstition and folk customs: the latter were more about spiritual sustenance, which is why they remained in various forms.
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On the morning of the ninth day, Li Qiwen’s adopted son, Li Futang, returned to the village with his wife, to everyone’s surprise. Perhaps it was out of guilt or in mourning for his father, but after his arrival, smoke once more rose from the chimney of Li Qiwen’s deserted home.
Li Yiting made a special visit. They were, after all, cousins, and he was curious why Li Futang had stayed away for so many years. After some conversation, Li Yiting was astonished to discover that it had been his third uncle’s decision. Long ago, Li Qiwen had anticipated trouble in the village and chose to let Li Futang struggle in the city rather than stay home. If not for Li Futang’s strong-willed wife, he might never have appeared so cold.
This deepened Li Yiting’s respect for Chen Tianyu’s judgment. He visited a few other relatives and found the same pattern: with the exception of Li Fuyi, the eldest uncle’s son, who obediently farmed at home, any family with the means had sent their children to the city, enduring hardship rather than let them remain in the village.
On his way back, Li Yiting could not help but think of the cold, gleaming Fishgut Sword. Perhaps it was not a sacred artifact but a murder weapon. Regardless of its value, as times changed and relics lost their mystique, the guardians, unaware of the risks, had chosen to take precautions to spare their descendants from harm. This was understandable.
After much thought, Li Yiting began to form an idea, though it was still half-formed. Yet to see it through, he would have to overcome his eldest uncle’s objections.
He resolved to wait until the case was settled before making any decisions.