My father states a truism. “One or two decades will not change a rock.” He gestures to the coroner. “Please try to fit these specimens to the dent in Yang Fengshi’s skull.”
A few women shield their eyes. A young man whom I treated as a boy for his frail disposition and who is now deep into studying for the imperial exams faints and is carried away. My husband and his father have gone as white as death garments.
After a few minutes, Coroner Sun holds up a rock still shiny with water. “This cracked Miss Yang’s skull. It is an exact fit to the indentation. When she did not die at once, she was held facedown in the pond. She must have struggled very hard as we can see from the water and mud evidence.”
I look at Doctor Wong to see how he reacts to this information, but he remains still, as though he hasn’t heard a word of what’s been said. His stare remains steady, focused just over our heads to, I suddenly realize, the alcove where Miss Chen, Poppy, Meiling, and her mother wait to be called as witnesses.
My father shifts in his seat so he can address the doctor. “Please stand and face the table with the body.” Doctor Wong obeys, as he must. “It is said that when a suspect is questioned before a corpse and its relatives, he—or she—will be more inclined to confess. Would you care to do that now?”
Doctor Wong sniffs contemptuously. “Absolutely not. I have done nothing wrong.”
Unmoved, my father calmly places a hand flat on the table and turns his attention back to the gathering. “We have heard about evidence found on Miss Yang’s body that suggests she was killed. I will come back to the motive or motives for her death later, but now let’s turn to the second accusation as, I believe, we will discover that the reason for both crimes stems from a single source. Doctor Wong, stay where you are. Shi Meiling, will you please approach?”
Meiling leaves the alcove, walks up the center aisle, and sits in the second chair positioned to face the audience. My father asks her just five questions.
“What was the cause of your miscarriage in Beijing?”
“I took a remedy that I thought would help me have a safe pregnancy.”
“Do you have any of it with you?”
She shows what’s left of the herbs and other ingredients that made up the formula she took.
“Can you describe the medicinal properties of each?” he asks.
“I am not a doctor,” she answers. “However, I have learned the effect each ingredient will have on a pregnant woman.”
My father gives her permission to list them, which she does, and then inquires, “How did you come to have the herbs?”
“I took them from a maid.”
“For whom were they originally intended?”
“Tan Yunxian, Master Yang’s daughter-in-law.”
This fact is met with profound silence.
My father next calls for Poppy to sit in the chair Meiling just vacated.
“Who gave you the herbs that ultimately caused the young midwife to miscarry?” he asks.
My longtime maid cries so hard she can barely speak. “Doctor Wong.”
Amid gasps of surprise, Doctor Wong’s face remains a mask of indifference.
“I only did what I was told to do by the doctor of the household,” Poppy sobs. “I would never hurt Little Miss.”
My father dismisses Poppy, and she returns to the alcove, covering her face with her hands.
“Doctor Wong, is there anything you would like to say to refute what the midwife and the maid just said?”
“I am disappointed to see that a man of your standing can be so swayed by the mutterings of women, especially from a member of the Six Grannies who desecrates the rules of proper behavior set down by Confucius,” he answers.
Perhaps Doctor Wong believes that by acting disdainful he’ll convince everyone of his innocence, but the family’s sentiment has turned against him, and my father does not appear to be swayed either.
“So for now you will not be confessing,” he says. “No matter. Please remain where you are, so we can see your reaction to the next witness. Midwife Shi, come forward.” Once she’s in position, my father questions her about how she learned her trade and how long she’s practiced. Then he begins to probe more deeply based on what Midwife Shi confessed to Meiling and me. “When was the last time you came to the Garden of Fragrant Delights?”
“It was for the birth of Miss Chen’s son,” she answers.
“Am I right that it’s not always necessary for a doctor to be present at these events?”
“You are correct. Childbirth is bloody. Doctors usually stay away unless there are complications.”
“Were there complications in this instance?”
“None at all,” Midwife Shi answers.
“But a physician was in attendance.”
“Yes, Doctor Wong was there.”
“Please tell us what happened.”
“Many women cry out during labor. Often they complain about their husbands or their masters. Never again will I allow him into my bed, and that sort of thing.” The midwife gives a half smile. “Of course, we would not have a society if every woman followed this course.”
No one laughs.
“What did the concubine say?” my father asks.
“She yelled at the doctor that if a son exited her body, then she would never again open her legs for him.”
“No!” The scream slices through the stunned crowd. I turn to look at the source of the sound and see into the alcove, where Miss Chen rises so quickly that the veil covering her face lifts and then gently falls as though blown by a breeze. I swivel back to catch Doctor Wong flinch and then quickly compose himself.
“Sit down, Miss Chen,” my father orders, “and remain quiet.” He returns to Midwife Shi. “Are you suggesting that Master Yang was not the father of his concubine’s son?”
“That is correct.”
“Who else knows this?”
Midwife Shi sets her jaw and straightens her back. Her voice is strong when she says, “The woman I knew as Spinster Aunt was present to assist me during Miss Chen’s labor. She heard everything. Later, the two of us talked about what we should do. This baby, the one named Manzi, had entered the world as next in line to become the headman of the Garden of Fragrant Delights should the young master die or die without a son.”
The lines on my father’s forehead deepen as he considers this information. I wonder if the Yang family is looking at Doctor Wong and seeing what I see: the carved cheekbones, the broad shoulders, and the set of the jaw that he and Manzi shared.
My father asks his next question in such a low tone I barely hear it. “And you kept this secret all these years?”
“What choice did I have?” Midwife Shi asks in response. “Not long after Miss Chen gave birth, I attended to three other laboring women, each of whom had an unfortunate outcome.” She sighs. “This happens, but thanks to a few well-placed words from Doctor Wong, elite families no longer invited me into their homes. Anything I would have said in my defense would have been seen as—”
“But that was not your only motivation,” my father interrupts before Midwife Shi can finish.
I grip my hands together so hard that my fingernails bite into my skin, afraid Meiling’s mother will lose her courage.
“Every mother does what she can to put her child forward—especially a fatherless girl child,” the midwife says at last. “Doctor Wong promised me that if I spoke not a single word about the secret he and Miss Chen shared, he would protect my daughter. ‘I can ruin her as I have already done to you,’ he said. ‘Or I can help her.’ I agreed to his terms. Our arrangement began immediately.”
After my father dismisses Midwife Shi, he leafs through his papers as if to make sure he’s not forgetting anything. If he follows the suggestions I wrote to him, then three witnesses remain: Miss Chen, Lady Kuo, and me. Each of us has important information to share—willingly or unwillingly—but he doesn’t call on any of us, leaving me confused and disheartened. Instead, over the next hour, my father tries to get Doctor Wong to admit to his crimes. He gives the doctor opportunities to offer explanations, some of which could be colored as careless mistakes. When asked why he didn’t try to kill Maoren instead of my unborn son, the doctor laughs. “I’ve told you I’m not a murderer.”
My father waves away this answer as though it were a bad smell. Then he says, “The easy way is the sloppy way, but I will ask you nevertheless. After you killed Miss Yang with the rock, why didn’t you remove it from the Garden of Fragrant Delights?”
“I didn’t kill the spinster,” the doctor answers.
My father runs out of patience. “Can you offer any evidence that you did not kill Yang Fengshi?”
“I cannot,” he answers.
“Can you refute the claims that the child Manzi was your son and that you were trying to secure his place as future head of the Yang family?”
“I cannot.”
“Let us be clear. Are you admitting you are guilty of these things?”
Doctor Wong refuses to respond.
“I will give you one last opportunity to explain yourself,” my father says.