Now, Prefect Zhao was trying Feng Yuanqing, and he asked Ji Gong what should be done. “If you ask me, sir,” said the monk, “Feng Yuanqing has been wronged.” “Holy monk,” said the prefect, “if you say Feng Yuanqing has been wronged, then who is the murderer?” “The murderer’s easy,” said the monk. “This monk will go out and bring him in.” “Holy monk, do us that kindness,” said the prefect. “You can send two men with me, sir,” said the monk. The prefect sent Lei Siyuan and Ma Anjie to go with the holy monk and work on the case. Head Constable Lei and Head Constable Ma left the yamen with the monk. “Whoever I tell you to chain, you take,” said the monk, “and whoever I tell you to seize, you seize.” “Of course,” said Head Constable Lei and Head Constable Ma. They walked on, talking, and a man came toward them dressed in full mourning1, carrying a vegetable basket. The monk went up to him. “Where are you off to?” “I’m going to buy vegetables,” said the man. “Who are you in mourning for?” said the monk. “I’m in mourning for my mother,” said the man. “Head Constable Lei, come here,” said the monk. “Chain him.” Head Constable Lei came over and put the chain on the man in mourning. “What are you chaining me for?” said the man. “Your mother died,” said the monk. “Why didn’t you have a hungry-ghost rite2 held for her and the sutras chanted?” “I haven’t got the money,” said the man. “That won’t do,” said the monk. “We’ll have this out in court. Head Constable Lei, take him to the yamen.” When Head Constable Lei heard this, it sounded like nonsense to him, and he had no idea what the monk had in mind, but he dared not disobey, and he led the man off at once. “What’s your name, friend?” asked Ma Anjie. “My name is Xu, Xu Zhong,” said the man. “I live in Fourth Lane, under the east city wall. I’m a cook by trade.” “How did your mother die?” asked Lei Siyuan. “An old illness came back on her, and she died of a fit of phlegm3,” said Xu Zhong. “You’re not telling the truth either,” said the monk. “Take off his mourning clothes and his white shoes and bring him to the yamen. Let His Honour question him.” When they reached the yamen they first took off his mourning clothes, then brought him inside. As soon as it was reported, His Honour went into court and had Xu Zhong brought up, and the monk sat down at the side. “What is your name?” said His Honour. “My surname is Xu, and my given name Zhong,” said Xu Zhong. “How did your mother really die?” said the monk. “She died of a fit of phlegm,” said Xu Zhong. “Holy monk,” said the prefect, “what is the story here, then?” “He brought about his mother's death,” said the monk. The prefect was taken aback. “Xu Zhong,” he said, “tell the truth.” “Your Honour,” said Xu Zhong, “my mother truly died of illness.” “Go and examine the body, sir,” said the monk, “and you’ll know.”

The prefect at once summoned the coroner4 from the Criminal Office, and went with his runners and the rest to examine the body. The prefect rode in his sedan chair with Xu Zhong under guard, and the monk went along with them to Xu Zhong’s house. The local constable and all the neighbours said, “His Honour is making a fool of himself. Xu Zhong’s mother plainly died of illness. We all helped lay her in her coffin.” The prefect ordered the coffin carried out. “Your Honour,” said Xu Zhong, “if you open the coffin and find no wounds, what then?” “You scoundrel!” said the prefect. “If the living Buddha Ji Gong says there was something behind your mother’s death, then there was. Here! Open the coffin and examine her for me.” At once the runners opened the coffin. The coroner from the Criminal Office came over and looked. There was nothing wrong with the old lady’s body; she had died a natural death. Even the coroner and the men of the Criminal Office were dumbfounded. “His Honour has opened a coffin for no reason,” they thought. “He’ll lose his cap of office over this.” “Are there any wounds on the body?” the prefect asked the coroner. The coroner only stood there gaping, and the prefect was badly shaken too. The monk gave a faint smile. “Xu Zhong, still not going to tell the truth?” “My mother died a natural death,” said Xu Zhong. “If His Honour wants to open her coffin for no reason, what can I do about it?” The monk strode over and kicked the end of the coffin, and knocked the end board clean off. Out of the coffin rolled a man’s head. When the prefect saw it he flew into a rage. “Where did this head come from?” “Ask him, sir,” said the monk. Xu Zhong turned pale with fright. “Your Honour,” he said, “if you’re asking about that head, it’s no stranger. It’s my brother. His name was Xu Erhun. My brother was a handyman at a money shop on Qiantang Street. One evening he came home with seventy taels of silver. The two of us were drinking, and he drank too much. I asked him where the silver came from. He said he wouldn’t have told anyone but his own brother. He said the manager of their money shop went that evening to collect silver from a grain shop outside the Tongji Gate. He knew about it, so he took a knife and waited in East Grove, and he killed Manager Han and got the silver. When I heard it, I was afraid he’d be caught and drag me into it with him. I got him dead drunk and killed him, and our old lady died of the shock. I put my brother’s head in the bottom of my mother’s coffin, and I hid his body in the flue under the kang5. I thought no one, man or ghost, would ever know. I never thought Your Honour would find it out today. That’s the whole truth of it, from start to finish.” “Holy monk,” said the prefect, “what should be done about this?” “Send for the young master of the Tianhe Money Shop to close the case,” said the monk. “Tell him his father was killed by Xu Erhun, the handyman at their shop.” The young master of the money shop was summoned at once. When it had been made clear to him that Xu Erhun was dead, he was made to sign a statement6 there in court.

The prefect sent runners with Xu Zhong to recover the stolen silver, and had his mother buried, and Xu Zhong was banished to the distant frontier7 as a soldier. His Honour and the monk went back to the yamen and had Feng Yuanqing brought out. He had been wrongly accused, and His Honour set him free then and there in court. The whole of Lin’an was buzzing with the story. Had it not been for Ji Gong, who could have unravelled such a strange and tangled case? The prefect released Feng Yuanqing and sent a dispatch to his superiors impeaching8 Duan Buqing, the magistrate of Qiantang, for holding human life cheap, for muddling his business and for being unfit for office, and by imperial decree the magistrate was dismissed. The prefect kept Ji Gong to drink with him, and only then asked, “Holy monk, how did you catch Hua Yunlong?” The monk told him all that had happened.