I slide to the edge of the bed, swing my legs to the floor, and step quietly and carefully over Poppy. After I take care of myself, I stand in the middle of the room. I’m still not supposed to leave my room, but I long for a breath of fresh air. It’s early enough, and no one will see me. I find a shawl, draw it over my shoulders, and walk outside. Above me, the sky is just turning pink. The air is still. The greens of the plants refresh my eyes. I find myself lured from the colonnade down into the courtyard to a spray of orchids as white as frost on glass growing at the base of the stone bridge that crosses the pond.
I’m extra careful as I pick my way down the pebble path slick with dew. My fingers graze along the tops of the azalea bushes, which are so grand in size that they temporarily block my view of the orchids. I sway around the shrubs to find a pair of legs stretched akimbo on the ground. I draw a breath and fall backward to the earth. Frightened, I crawl forward and peek around the azaleas. The legs are still there, and they end in bound feet. I recognize the fine embroidery on the shoes as coming from only one person’s fingers.
“Spinster Aunt,” I whisper.
The strange position of her legs… Her trousers sopping wet… Something is terribly wrong. I edge around the bush, follow the legs up, and see the upper half of Spinster Aunt’s body submerged facedown in the pond. I scream. I scream and scream. I scream until women in this courtyard—sleepy and still in their nightclothes—come to see what’s happened. They’re followed by maids and other servants. And then they’re all screaming too.
A Circle of Good
Two days after I found Spinster Aunt’s body, my father-in-law and husband come to my room unannounced. Their visit is highly unusual, especially because I am still doing the month. I haven’t had a chance to dress or do my hair, but they don’t seem to care about the improprieties or my appearance. Master Yang addresses me directly, perhaps for the first time since my wedding. “If you’d been more discreet, then the servants wouldn’t have become distressed. You should understand by now that we have eyes and ears—spies—in our midst and that word of your hysteria would find its way beyond our walls. If you’d acted with decorum, then the family could have handled Spinster Aunt’s death with dignity and privacy. Instead…”
He tells me that news of a woman found dead in the Garden of Fragrant Delights snaked its way to the local magistrate, and now an inquest has been ordered to determine if Spinster Aunt’s death was the result of an accident or wrongdoing. Doctor Wong will testify that he pronounced Spinster Aunt dead. Midwife Shi and Meiling will report on the autopsy on behalf of the coroner, who is busy elsewhere.
“And, as the person who discovered the body, you will be called as a witness,” Master Yang continues, his voice stern. “None of this would have happened if you’d obeyed the basic rules of motherhood by staying inside while doing the month.”
My husband is even less sympathetic, and it hurts even more that he doesn’t see the obvious physical changes in me. “Your actions have embarrassed me before my family.”
Their attitude is disappointing, and it reminds me of the case of the servant girl found hanging that Meiling once told me about. That family also tried to protect its reputation and avoid scandal, only to make matters worse in the end.
The next day, Poppy helps me dress. While she does my hair and applies my makeup, I drink tea, hoping it will invigorate me. Despite these efforts, the person who stares back at me in the mirror looks wan and lacking in vigor. With so much going on in the household, I haven’t had an opportunity to ask to see Midwife Shi, or Doctor Wong either. I sigh as I rise. I have one last task to complete before I can leave the room. I change my padding and hope it lasts through the inquest.
At least I don’t have far to walk. Everyone has gathered in the colonnade of the fourth courtyard, so we can view where the death occurred, as is the custom. The men sit together on the left side of the aisle. The three most important men in the household are together in the front row: my husband to Master Yang’s left and Second Uncle to Master Yang’s right. I haven’t seen the three of them side by side before, and it strikes me how strong Yang blood is in them with their full-moon faces, and identical heights, builds, and even the fall of their hair. I also see Doctor Wong for the first time. He’s not at all as I’d imagined. He’s far younger—in his mid-thirties, with high cheekbones, and perfectly formed brows that draw attention to his eyes. He’s clean-shaven, like my husband, and dressed simply but elegantly. I’m on the right side of the aisle with Lady Kuo and a few of the women who rushed to the courtyard in response to my screams. I see Midwife Shi, but Meiling is not in attendance, although I expected her to be here as part of her apprenticeship. Spinster Aunt lies on a table under a sheet of muslin. From my position, I can see the white orchids that beckoned me three nights ago.
A man sits at a small table facing us, with his back to the courtyard. He wears a long robe bearing the embroidered insignia of his rank. A black cap rises high on his head with two wings extending over his ears. A sparse beard covers his chin with two long forks of hair like a serpent’s split tongue reaching down his chest. He begins by introducing himself. “I am Magistrate Fu. I am the sole investigator. I can make an arrest. I also serve as the judge and can pronounce the sentence if wrongdoing is found.” He pauses to regard us. Then he continues, speaking deliberately. “I expect truth, and I will order one of the three accepted methods of torture to assure it—beating with a stick, ankle squeezers for men, and finger squeezers for women—if need be. Those who lie or falsify evidence will receive one hundred blows from a heavy rod as set forth by the Board of Punishments.”
The magistrate falls silent to let us absorb this information. Then, “All inquests must take place in front of the assembled family and the accused, if there is one, so that good and evil can meet face-to-face, without secrets, without bureaucracy, without opportunity to shield parents, grandparents, siblings, or servants, or allow the guilty party to avoid the results of his or her actions.” He pulls on one of the tails of his beard. “Nothing is more serious than a capital case, if this indeed turns out to be one. No piece of evidence can be treated lightly. If even one tiny mistake is made, the repercussions can stretch ten thousand li.”
He proceeds with official language to note the date, the province, the prefecture, and the names and titles of those in attendance. He then reads from a paper on the table before him. “We are assembled today to determine what led to the death of Yang Fengshi, known by her family as Spinster Aunt. From the honorific by which she was addressed, I understand she was never married. She was seventy years of age.”
Yang Fengshi. How could I not have known her given name?
Magistrate Fu peers at the gathering to see if anyone needs or wants to make a correction. With no reaction coming, he continues. “Every official in my position follows the rules set forth more than two centuries ago in The Washing Away of Wrongs by Song Ci, the first person in the world to develop and record the forensic process. We will follow his example and begin with examining the scene where the death occurred. This is especially important in cases of drowning. We will inspect the ground to see if the victim lost her footing or was forcibly pushed into the water. I ask Master Yang and Doctor Wong to accompany me.”
The three men make their way to the path I walked the other night. Doctor Wong has a determined, yet surprisingly graceful, stride. After a few minutes of mumbled discussion behind the azalea bushes where I found Spinster Aunt’s body, they return to the colonnade. Once the men are seated, Magistrate Fu speaks:
“Was the ground disturbed at the water’s edge? Yes. If the victim had been a man, I would suspect that a struggle had occurred, for the dirt and mud in the area has been greatly agitated, but the victim was a bound-footed woman. As men, we admire the sacrifice and pain our women endure to give us this beauty to enjoy, but it leaves them unstable. I’m afraid this wouldn’t be the first case I’ve encountered where a woman lost her balance, fell, and met with death. Older women are particularly vulnerable.”
His words hang in the air before he continues. “The next question we must ask ourselves is, did the woman drown? In ordinary circumstances, I would say the depth of the water is too shallow. Wouldn’t you agree, Master Yang?”
“Yes,” my father-in-law accedes with a nod.
“And you too, Doctor Wong?”
“I’m in full agreement with the magistrate.”
I am as well, since I bet I could wade across the pond and get wet only up to my knees.