Half an hour later.
To determine Cui'er's cause of death, the body was transported to the western city morgue.
Under pressure from the mysterious white-robed noble, Su Mo—both suspect and informant—was brought along.
The morgue was cold and oppressive. The air reeked of rot and damp wood.
The coroner in charge was an old man well past sixty. He stood trembling over the corpse, muttering nonsense about unresolved resentment and restless spirits, as if ghosts might leap up and strangle him at any moment.
Iris was seconds away from losing patience when a disturbance rose at the doorway.
The white-robed noble entered.
He had changed fans.
This one was brand new.
The moment he stepped inside, he snapped it open with a sharp crack and clamped it over his mouth and nose. His elegant brows twisted together in pure disgust.
"This place…" his voice came muffled behind the fan, "is a pigsty."
Iris rolled her eyes.
"If it's too filthy, then leave," she shot back. "This is where the dead stay—not a garden for pampered nobles."
His gaze slid toward her, cold and sharp.
"I'm here as a witness," he said. "To see whether your performance at the Su residence was genuine skill—or a desperate lie to save your own neck."
Iris didn't bother responding.
She walked straight to the corpse and waved the shaking old coroner aside. With no proper tools, she grabbed a rusted pair of scissors and strips of cloth from a shelf, swiftly wrapping her hands.
"There's blunt-force trauma to the back of the skull," she said while examining the body.
"Subcutaneous hematoma. Irregular circular impact."
She paused, then looked up—straight at the noble, who was hovering three steps from the doorframe like he might fuse with it.
"Hey. You."
She pointed at the white jade pendant hanging from his waist.
"Lend me that."
He laughed in disbelief. "You're pushing your luck, woman. First my fan, now my jade?"
"The wound matches its shape," Iris replied flatly. "I suspect the weapon was a hard object like this. I need it for comparison."
He immediately took half a step back, one hand flying protectively to the pendant.
"Absolutely not."His eyes looked like she'd just announced a robbery. "Not a chance."
"Petty," Iris muttered.
She turned and barked an order at the constables nearby.
"Go back to the Su residence. Search my stepmother's room. Any hard ornaments—especially candlesticks or paperweights shaped like that pendant. The base will have blood."
The constables froze, instinctively glancing at the noble.
He closed his fan.
Though visibly pained at the thought of losing his jade, he looked at Iris with new interest.
"Do as she says."
They hurried off.
Iris resumed the examination.
The body had been submerged. Cui'er's collar clasps were tangled tight, soaked fabric knotted like it had fused together. Iris's injured hands lacked strength.
"Hey. Come here," she called.
The noble stared at her. "You're calling me?"
"Unless there's another living person in here," Iris snapped."I can't open this. You're stronger. Tear it."
His face turned green.
"Outrageous! Improper conduct between man and woman—let alone with a corpse! You want me to tear a young woman's clothes in public? Impossible!"
"Do you want dignity," Iris said calmly, grabbing his sleeve and dragging him to the table,"or the truth?"
"Let go! Have you lost your mind?!"
"Stop squirming. Hold here. Pull."
"I refuse—!"
"Harder. Did you skip meals? Use some strength!"
Outside the room, the guards and old coroner exchanged looks, faces burning red.
The voices inside carried clearly.
Young people these days… even in a morgue…?
Inside—
Rip.
The fabric tore.
The noble recoiled like he'd been electrocuted, stumbling back three steps and furiously fanning himself.
"Shameless," he muttered, face blazing red. "Utterly shameless."
Iris ignored him.
She inspected the exposed skin, then placed both hands over the corpse's chest.
"Checking for fluid response."
Once.
Twice.
Suddenly—
"Urrr—"
A long, hollow sigh echoed through the morgue.
The corpse's upper body jerked. One arm lifted—and reached toward the noble.
"AAAAAH—!!!"
A scream shattered the silence.
Iris felt a rush of air beside her.
The previously aloof noble was now plastered against the far wall, fan dropped, one hand gripping the hilt of his soft sword. His face was bloodless.
Iris calmly pressed the corpse's hand back down.
"What are you screaming for?" she asked, looking at him like he was slow."Postmortem spasm. Chest compression forces air out—vocal cords vibrate. Basic physics."
She picked up his fallen fan, dusted it off, and handed it back.
"Carrying a sword, yet scared of this? Your courage's smaller than a needle's eye."
He straightened stiffly, smoothing his robes.
"Nonsense," he said coldly. "I was merely… adjusting my footing. Who said I was afraid?"
…
A quarter hour later, they finally stepped out of the suffocating morgue.
"Once we find the bloodied base," Iris said in good spirits, "my stepmother won't be able to deny anything."
She took two steps down the stairs—
and her knee buckled.
The pain she'd ignored earlier hit all at once.
"I'm taking the carriage," she said, eyeing the luxurious vehicle outside.
"No," the noble replied instantly. "You're covered in corpse stench. Don't dirty my carriage."
"I'm a witness," Iris shot back. "And I'm injured."
Ignoring him entirely, she climbed aboard while the guards weren't looking.
Left with no choice, he followed—face dark.
To avoid contact, he wedged himself into the far corner and ordered a small table placed between them.
"Cross the line," he warned, "and I'll throw you out."
The carriage jolted forward over uneven stone.
Suddenly—
Something darted across the road.
The horses braked hard.
The table didn't stand a chance.
Iris was launched forward like a projectile.
"Ugh!"
Time froze.
She landed squarely in his lap—face buried in the worst possible place, arms instinctively wrapping around his waist.
He went rigid.
Stone-still.
He could feel her breath.
Three seconds passed.
"SU. MO."
The roar nearly tore the roof off.
He shoved her away, curling into the corner, arms crossed defensively, face crimson.
"Shameless! You—you dared—!"
Iris slammed into the carriage wall, rubbing her head.
"As if I wanted to!" she snapped. "Is your belt made of stone? It nearly cracked my skull!"
This man's waist is harder than a corpse, she thought bitterly.
"That is jade," he snarled. "JADE."
Then—
he began coughing violently.
His face drained of color. His breathing turned ragged.
A porcelain vial was passed in through the window.
"Young Master! Your medicine—from the capital!"
He swallowed the pill, trembling.
Iris watched closely.
His breathing steadied—but red welts bloomed along his neck.
An allergy?
She opened her mouth—
then met his warning glare.
Say a word and I'll kill you.
She closed it.
A rash wouldn't kill him.
The carriage stopped.
"We've arrived," he said coldly. "Get out."
Iris jumped down instantly.
"See you around, Young Master!"
Inside the carriage, he rubbed his still-warm ears—then scratched at his itchy neck.
"That woman…"
He ground his teeth.
"She's my nemesis."