Outside the Stepmother's bedchamber.
"Insolent!" Madam Su planted herself in the doorway like a barricade, voice shrill enough to slice glass."Who dares step inside? This is my private chamber! I am the lawful mistress of this household—are you servants trying to rebel?"
The constables exchanged uneasy glances. No one moved.
Iris stood at the foot of the steps and turned her head.
The white-robed noble lounged beneath a flowering begonia tree, fan idly moving as if this were entertainment.
"Eldest Young Master," Iris said coolly, "someone is obstructing justice. Your opinion?"
His eyes didn't even sharpen.
"Shuntian Prefecture is investigating a homicide," he said, voice indifferent. "Anyone who interferes is treated as an accomplice."
He snapped his fan shut.
"Search."
"Yes!"
With a mountain backing them, the constables surged forward, shoved the shrieking Stepmother aside, and poured into the room.
…
One stick of incense later.
The elegant bedchamber looked like it had been attacked by a pack of starving wolves.
Antiques were overturned. Brocade ripped from wardrobes. Even the hidden compartment under the bed was pried open.
Nothing.
No bloodstained jade ornament. Not even a scrap of cloth with a smear.
The lead constable stepped out, sweating through his collar, and shook his head toward the noble.
"My lord… we found nothing."
The air went hard.
Madam Su's spine visibly loosened. She adjusted her robe with slow, deliberate grace, sank into a carved armchair, and drew out a string of dark purple sandalwood prayer beads.
Eyes closed, she began counting them—click, click, click—like she had all the time in the world.
"Finished?" she asked, opening her eyes with pious superiority."My heart belongs to Buddha. I wouldn't even dare step on an ant. And yet you listened to this mad girl and accused me of murder?"
Her gaze slid to the noble.
"With your noble status, Young Master, surely you won't indulge her theatrics as well?"
The noble's brows tightened.
He looked at Iris—cooler now.
So this was her "certainty."
A thin sheen of sweat surfaced along Iris's hairline.
No.
The wound shape was clear. Hard. Round. A blunt impact.
If the Stepmother had done it, she wouldn't toss the weapon far. Not that quickly. Not that carelessly.
So where was it?
Iris scanned the room: tables, vases, carved screens—
Then her gaze landed on Madam Su's hands.
Those beads were polished, glossy, flawless.
Too flawless.
"If you found nothing, then leave," Madam Su said, a victory-smile curling her lips.
Iris inhaled slowly.
If she walked away now, she was dead.The Stepmother would destroy everything.
So Iris did the only thing she could do.
She gambled.
"Wait."
Her voice cut cleanly through the room.
"You didn't find it because you were looking with your eyes."
She turned to the constables."Go to the kitchen. Bring me strong liquor. A bowl of aged vinegar. And a charcoal brazier."
The noble's fan stilled.
What exactly was she planning?
Minutes later, the items arrived.
Iris poured liquor into vinegar and set it over the brazier.
Heat rose.
So did the smell.
A sharp, sour bite filled the room, crawling into lungs and making eyes water.
"Cough—!" Madam Su covered her mouth, choking. "What trick is this? You're turning my room into a stinking swamp!"
Iris ignored her. She strode to the windows and flung them wide.
Summer heat rolled in like a wave.
"Wine-and-vinegar steam pulls blood-scent to the surface," Iris said calmly."Human noses might miss it. But some things… won't."
She waited.
The noble waited too, gaze deep and unreadable.
Then—
Bzzzz.
A low buzzing broke the silence.
Several large green blowflies drifted in through the open window, circling lazily.
Madam Su waved her sleeve in disgust.
"Filthy things! Get out!"
Iris's eyes locked onto them.
Where would they land?
A floorboard crack. A table leg. A wardrobe seam.Anywhere they settled would be a confession.
But the flies didn't go to the furniture.
They circled once—as if tasting the air—
Then dove.
Straight at Madam Su's hands.
More precisely—
Straight at the prayer beads.
One fly.
Two.
Five.
In a heartbeat the beads were crawling, the flies crammed into every crevice, rubbing their legs together, drunk on whatever they'd found.
Madam Su froze.
Then screamed.
"AHHH—! Get away! GET AWAY!"
She shook her hands wildly.
The flies didn't move.
They clung like a curse.
The room went dead silent.
Even the constables stopped breathing.
The white-robed noble instinctively took half a step back, shock flashing in his eyes.
Iris stepped forward, scooped up the beads as they fell, and held them up like a verdict.
"Found it."
Her gaze cut to Madam Su's face—now ghost-white.
"Mother," Iris said softly, almost kindly,"it seems even the flies know… there's no mercy on these beads."
Her lips curved.
"Only Cui'er's blood."
Madam Su's knees buckled. She collapsed, trembling.
"No… no… it wasn't me…" she sobbed."She stole my gold hairpin—I just… I just hit her once… I didn't mean…"
Truth snapped into place like a trap.
The constables surged forward, shackles ready.
Iris finally exhaled.
Her knees went weak, cold sweat soaking her back.
That was too close.
She turned—
and met the noble's gaze.
The suspicion was gone.
In its place: naked astonishment… and sharp, hungry curiosity.
"The case is solved," Iris said, forcing a tired smile. "Eldest Young Master, looks like your witness duty is complete."
The noble stared at her for a long moment, then snapped his fan shut.
"Hm." His voice was flat. "You have some skill."
Then his eyes flicked to the fly-covered beads.
Then to Iris's hands.
His expression twisted with familiar disgust.
"But," he added coldly, "you are absolutely filthy."
He pointed.
"Wash your hands."