Although he had seemed in a hurry to get started, nearly an hour passes before Lady Kuo escorts my father to the same colonnade where the first inquest about Spinster Aunt took place. My mother-in-law’s bow is deep and respectful. He’s a dignitary and an honored guest, but I’ve never before seen her act so humbly. I’m further surprised when he touches her sleeve, leans toward her, and whispers a few words. She tightens her jaw, nods, and then backs away.
My father takes his place at a table, where he’s flanked by his secretaries, each of whom has paper, brushes, and an inkstone before him. Spinster Aunt’s exhumed body lies on a table, covered with muslin. A diagram showing the front and back outlines of a body stands on an easel. Next to this is a small table with the tools required for an inquest on one end and brush and ink on the other end.
Doctor Wong sits on one of two chairs placed between my father and his secretaries and Spinster Aunt’s body, facing the audience. He looks as he always has to me: handsome, with an air of superiority about him. While custom and law say that the entire family of the dead may attend, only thirty chairs have been set up. My father-in-law, Second Uncle, and Maoren are in the front row in the same positions they took at the first inquest. Most of the other chairs are filled by Yang men, but a few women, including Lady Kuo, are also seated. Miss Chen has been summoned. She’s in an alcove, with a gauze veil covering her face to hide her few scars. Next to her are other nonfamily women: Meiling, her mother, and Poppy. Meiling and I give each other a subtle nod.
My father begins with some preliminaries, noting the day, month, and year of the Hongzhi emperor’s reign. His secretaries keep their heads down as they write every word spoken to create the official record. My father then announces that he’ll follow the rules and directions laid down in The Washing Away of Wrongs as he considers the forensic evidence, quoting: “If even one tiny mistake is made, the repercussions can stretch ten thousand li.” He pauses to let us consider these words, which were spoken to us years ago by Magistrate Fu.
“This is an unusual situation, since we have two accusations of crimes before us,” my father goes on. “The first dates back fourteen years to the death of Yang Fengshi—a woman known by her family as Spinster Aunt. The second allegation regards the deliberate use of abortifacients—with the resulting death of a fetus and near death of its mother. The intended target of this second crime was, apparently, my own daughter. I will hold myself to the highest tenets of integrity and objectivity as I perform my duties as investigator and judge, but to further assure impartiality and your confidence I have asked Coroner Sun, who is not from these parts or familiar with the victims, witnesses, or the accused, to review the evidence. If someone objects to any of this, now is the time to speak.”
My father’s eyes slowly pass over the assembly. If this had been Magistrate Fu, then perhaps there might have been arguments from different quarters, but my father’s position as a Prefectural Judge allows nothing of the sort.
“We will look at the facts chronologically,” he continues, “beginning with the re-inquest, moving on to the second accusation, and then consider how these two crimes—if indeed we find what occurred to be unlawful in nature and not a matter of misfortune, accident, or incompetence—are connected and the intention behind them. The accused is the physician of the household, Doctor Wong.”
While news that Doctor Wong would be the target of this investigation has caused much gossip throughout the Garden of Fragrant Delights, hearing the accusations spoken aloud in an official manner has produced what feels like a wall of disbelief from those seated around me. For his part, Doctor Wong lifts his chin, forms his lips into a small smile, and gently shakes his head as if to reassure everyone that this occasion is of no concern to him nor should it be to anyone else.
My father gestures to the coroner. “You may begin.”
“I will start with a procedure called To Disperse Vileness,” Coroner Sun explains. “My assistant will hand out gum made from liquidambar or, if you prefer, he can give you a piece of candied ginger to suck. These will help to wash away the taste of death. He also has a bottle of hemp seed oil. You may wish to smear some of it under your nose. The odor of decay won’t disappear entirely, but it will be lessened.” He turns to my father. “When the gravediggers opened Yang Fengshi’s coffin, we discovered the worst foul liquids had evaporated, but in the interests of the family, I’ve dabbed the body with wine and vinegar.”
With that, he pulls off the sheet of muslin to reveal what’s left of Spinster Aunt. A chorus of gasps comes from members of the household who are seeing someone they knew now badly decomposed. Spinster Aunt’s flesh appears withered and leathery. Her lips have retreated, exposing protruding teeth. Her nose and eyes are gone, leaving three gaping holes. The skin that once covered her shins has completely disappeared, leaving bare white bone.
Memories of the original inquest return as the coroner relates findings not unlike those Midwife Shi outlined fourteen years ago, while his assistant dips a brush in red ink and marks what is relayed onto the diagram of Spinster Aunt’s body. The water originally found in Spinster Aunt’s belly, which pointed to drowning as the cause of death, is still evident in the way this area has been slower to decompose. The coroner also reviews prior documented evidence, some but not all of which has been erased by time.
“Here we see dried mud,” Coroner Sun says, using a thin bamboo stick to point to Spinster Aunt’s yawning mouth. He moves the stick to one of her hands. “The nails have continued to grow in the grave, and they extend like talons. But you can clearly discern dried mud not only under the nails but also in what remains of her palms.” Moving on, the tip of the stick touches a spot just above Spinster Aunt’s upper teeth. “Dried mud cakes the cavity where her nose once was.”
My father clears his throat and reads from a paper: “In the first inquest, it was determined that Yang Fengshi had an accidental fall, hit her head, and drowned in the pond. The physical evidence, however, does not fully support this theory. Yes, water was found in her belly. And yes, the pond is shallow enough for most people, even a child, to escape. But if she lost consciousness, then she would not have had the ability to fight for her life, yet she has the remnants of mud in her hands and under her fingernails. Even if she had rested for days—and not hours—on the surface of the pond, mud would not have become so embedded in her nose and mouth cavities.”
I glance at my husband, who has his head tilted in low conversation with his father. Lady Kuo and some of the other ladies of the inner chambers wipe their eyes. Doctor Wong stares at his hands, which lie open, palms up, on his thighs. It’s impossible to guess at his emotions.
“There is something else to consider,” Coroner Sun says. “I would respectfully ask Prefectural Judge Tan to join me here.”
My father rises and steps purposefully to the table.
“I need help,” the coroner says, handing his assistant two pieces of cloth to drape over his hands. “We need to turn over the body.”
Once Spinster Aunt is facedown, the assistant returns to the easel.
“At the first inquest, Midwife Shi reported that Miss Yang hit the left side of her head.” The coroner once again uses his stick to point to Spinster Aunt’s corpse. “If that were so, then why is the indentation on the back of her skull?”
My father scratches his beard, pondering the problem, and asks, “If she fell and hit the back of her head, then why was she found facedown in the pond? And, from an administrative perspective, how did the discrepancy about the location of the injury to the victim’s head come to be in the official record?” His questions are greeted by muttering. He raises a hand for silence. “The answer to the second question will need to come from the original coroner and magistrate. I would also ask if they are acquainted with the accused, and if they benefited financially or otherwise from him. As you all know, lying in an official investigation is cause for severe punishment, but issues about the coroner and magistrate will need to wait for another time. As to the first concern, I want to remind everyone that the reason we gather at the site where a death occurred is to gather evidence. I now ask Master Yang and his son to follow me. The rest of you will remain seated.”
My father-in-law, husband, and father now disappear down the path lined by azaleas, which have grown taller these past years. I keep my eyes down and my ears attuned, hoping to catch the conversation coming from the pond. I hear nothing apart from some splashing. We all wait. Finally, the three men come back up the path. They carry rocks of varying sizes, some of which are wet. My husband’s boots and the bottom of his robe are also wet. The men set the rocks on the table and return to their seats.