Now, when Lord Bao heard that Zhao Hu had caught Ye Qian’er, he at once sent out four head constables: two to guard the body, and two to bring Ye Qian’er in under guard with all speed. When they had gone off with their orders, he told Zhao Hu to go to the back and change his clothes, and praised him to the skies. Zhao Hu withdrew, mightily pleased with himself. His man had everything ready for him: water to wash his face, fresh clothes and all the rest. The moment Fourth Master was through the door, he rewarded his man with ten taels of silver. “Good lad!” he said. “If it weren’t for your idea, your lord and master would never have earned this credit.” The Madcap was delighted. He took his time washing and combing his hair, and then had himself a good long rest.

As for the head constables, they had not been gone long before they brought Ye Qian’er in, still tied up. His Excellency opened court at once, had Ye Qian’er brought up and had him untied there before the bench. “What is your name?” asked Lord Bao. “Why did you kill someone for no reason? Speak!” “My name is Ye Qian’er, Your Excellency,” he replied, “and I’ve an old mother at home. I was so poor I couldn’t bear it, and that’s the only reason I turned thief. I never thought I’d be caught the very first time. I beg Your Excellency to spare my life.” “Being a thief is against the law already,” said Lord Bao. “Why did you go and kill someone as well?” “It’s true I’m a thief,” said Ye Qian’er, “but I never killed anyone.” Lord Bao slammed down the startle block. “What a crafty, vicious wretch! Ask you politely and you’ll never confess. Attendants, take him down and give him twenty heavy strokes of the bamboo!” Those twenty strokes alone had Ye Qian’er writhing, and in his desperation he burst out, “Why is my luck so rotten? Last time it was that, and this time it’s this. It’s so unfair!” Lord Bao could tell there was more behind his words. “What happened last time?” he asked. “Tell me, quick!” Ye Qian’er knew he had let something slip, and he said no more.

Seeing that he would not speak, Lord Bao ordered, “Slap his face! Hard!” Ye Qian’er was frantic. “Don’t be angry, Your Excellency — I’ll talk, I’ll talk! It’s like this. Over at Baijiabao there’s a Squire Bai, name of Bai Xiong. When his birthday came round, I went over to lend a hand and get on his good side, so that when it was all over there’d be a tip in it, or a bite to eat. But his steward, Bai An, was even meaner and stingier than the squire. When it was over, there was no tip, and he didn’t even give me a scrap of the leftovers. That made me so mad I went and robbed the place that night.” “Just now you said this was your first time as a thief,” said Lord Bao. “Now it is the second.” “Robbing Squire Bai was the first time,” Ye Qian’er replied. “And after you robbed him?” said Lord Bao. “Speak!” “I knew my way round the house,” said Ye Qian’er, “so I slipped in through the front gate and went straight to hide in the east rooms. That east wing is where the squire’s concubine lives — Yurui, she’s called — and I knew she had plenty of good things in her chests and cupboards. While I was hiding there, I heard somebody tapping at the lattice door. Yurui opened it, someone came in, and she shut the lattice door again. I took a look from where I was in the dark, and it was the steward, Bai An. I saw the two of them go giggling in behind the bed curtains. After a while, once the two of them were asleep, I quietly opened the cupboard. I felt around and found a wooden box — a good heavy one. So I took it and went home over the wall. There was a lock on it, with the key hanging beside it, and was I tickled! But when I opened it up and looked — that did it! There was a human head inside! And this time I run into this dead body. That’s why I said, ‘Last time it was that, and this time it’s this.’ Isn’t that rotten luck?”

“Was the head in the box a man’s or a woman’s?” asked Lord Bao. “Speak!” “A man’s,” Ye Qian’er replied. “And did you bury it,” said Lord Bao, “or did you report it to the authorities?” “I didn’t bury it, and I didn’t report it,” said Ye Qian’er. “If you neither buried it nor reported it,” said Lord Bao, “where did you get rid of it? Speak!” “Well,” said Ye Qian’er, “in my village there’s old man Qiu — Qiu Feng, his name is. He caught me stealing his pumpkins—” “Stealing pumpkins!” said Lord Bao. “That makes three times!” “The pumpkins — that was the very first time,” said Ye Qian’er. “Old man Qiu was furious. He soaked his well rope in water and gave me a good thrashing with it before he let me go. I’ve had it in for him ever since, so I threw the head into his place.” At once Lord Bao issued two warrant tallies and sent out four runners, two to arrest Bai An and two to arrest Qiu Feng; both were to be brought for trial the next day. Ye Qian’er he had taken down and held in the jail for the time being.

The next day Lord Bao was still washing and dressing and had not yet opened court when one of the constables guarding the woman’s body came back and reported: “Last night I was ordered to guard the body. When I looked round this morning, what do I find but that the yard is Butcher Zheng’s back yard, and the front door has been sealed up. So I came back to report.” When Lord Bao heard this, he understood. “Very well,” he said, and the man went back to his post.

Lord Bao opened court at once and had Butcher Zheng brought up first. “You wretch, death is too good for you!” he said. “You commit murder yourself, and still you try to drag someone else into it. If you know nothing of the woman’s head, how is it that a woman’s body lies buried in your back yard? Confess the truth. Speak!” “Out with it! Out with it, quick!” roared the runners on either side. Butcher Zheng supposed that His Excellency must have sent men to search his shop and found the body there. For a moment he stood stunned, as stiff as a wooden idol. At last he said, “I’ll confess. That day I got up at the fifth watch, and I was just about to slaughter a pig when I heard someone knocking at the door and begging for help. I opened up quick and let them in. Then I heard people outside giving chase, and saying, ‘Well, there’s no sign of anyone. We’ll search properly in the morning. Must be holed up somewhere.’ And still talking, they went back the way they’d come. When everything had gone quiet, I lit the lamp and had a look: it was a young girl. I asked her why she’d run off in the middle of the night, and she said, ‘My name is Jinniang. I was tricked and carried off and sold to a brothel. But I come of a decent family, and I wouldn’t give in. Then the son of Governor Jiang1, trading on his family’s power, offered a fortune in gold and silk to buy me as his concubine. So I pretended to be all sweetness, kept his cup full and played up to him, and when I’d got the governor’s son dead drunk, I took my chance and ran.’ When I saw how pretty she was, with her hair all pearls and kingfisher feathers2, wicked thoughts got hold of me before I knew it. But the girl screamed and wouldn’t have it. I snatched up the knife that lay to hand. I only meant to frighten her, but no sooner had the knife touched her neck than off came her head. When I saw she was dead, there was nothing for it: I stripped off her outer clothes and buried the body in the back yard. I’d come back in and was pulling the pins and earrings off the head when all of a sudden I heard somebody calling at the door to buy a pig’s head. I blew out the lamp, quick. Then it came to me: why not wrap up the head and let him get rid of it for me? I must have been out of my wits with fright. Before I knew what I was doing, I’d wrapped the head in a cloth, lit the lamp again, opened the door and called back the man who wanted the pig’s head — that was Mr. Han. As luck would have it, he hadn’t brought anything to carry it in, so I handed him the head wrapped in the cloth, and off he went. Once he’d gone, I started to have second thoughts. How could I get somebody else to throw away a thing like that? It was bound to come out. Then I thought again: if he got rid of it for me, well and good; and if it did come out, I’d just deny the whole thing. Who’d have thought Your Excellency would see through it all and actually find the body? Pity me! I kill somebody just the once, and before I’ve done a thing with her clothes and trinkets, I’m caught. It’s so unfair!” Since he had confessed to everything, Lord Bao had him put his mark to the confession.

He had only just been taken down when a constable reported, “Qiu Feng has been brought in.” Lord Bao ordered him brought up and asked him why he had secretly buried a human head. Old Qiu dared not hide anything. “That night,” he said, “I heard a thump outside. I was afraid it was thieves, so I hurried out to look, and there was a human head. I was terrified, so I told my hired hand, Liu San, to take it away and bury it. But Liu San wouldn’t do it — he wanted a hundred taels of silver from me. I had no choice. I gave him fifty taels, and only then would he bury it.” “Where did he bury it?” asked Lord Bao. “Ask Liu San and you’ll know,” said Old Qiu. “And where is Liu San?” asked Lord Bao. “He’s at my house now,” said Old Qiu. At once Lord Bao ordered the county magistrate to take runners and Old Qiu, under guard, find Liu San and dig up the head.

They had only just gone when another runner came back and reported, “Bai An has been brought in.” He was brought up into the hall at once: a handsome young man in fine clothes. “Are you Bai An, steward to Bai Xiong?” asked Lord Bao. “I am,” he answered. “Then let me ask you: how does your master treat you?” “My master treats me like his own flesh and blood,” said Bai An. “Truly, his kindness to me is like giving me life a second time.” Lord Bao slammed down the startle block. “You cur, to break every bond between master and man! If that is so, why have you been carrying on with your master’s concubine? Speak!” Bai An was alarmed to hear it. “I have always kept to my duty and obeyed the law. There’s no such thing!” “Bring in Ye Qian’er,” ordered Lord Bao. Ye Qian’er came up into the hall, saw Bai An and said, “No use arguing, mister. Own up — I’ve already told His Excellency all about it for you. That night you tapped on the lattice door and went in behind the bed curtains with Yurui, I was right there in the room. Later, when you were asleep, I opened the cupboard and took out the wooden box. I thought I’d struck it rich, and what was inside but a man’s head! There’s nothing more to be said. Whatever the pair of you got up to, master and man, just tell the truth. I reckon not confessing won’t get you anywhere.” This speech left Bai An gaping and tongue-tied, the colour draining from his face. From the bench Lord Bao pressed him: “Whose head was it? Tell the truth!” Bai An had no way out. Shuffling half a pace forward on his knees, he said, “I’ll confess, then. That head belonged to my master’s cousin, a man named Li Keming. Back when my master was poor, he borrowed five hundred taels of fine silver from him and never paid it back. One day Li Keming came to the squire’s house, partly to pay a visit and partly to ask for the old debt, and my master gave him wine and a meal. But in his cups Li Keming said more than he should have. He said that on the road he’d met a crazy monk called Taoran Gong, who told him there was a shadow of ill luck on his face and gave him a Pillow of Immortal Journeys3, telling him to give it to the Lord of the Star4. Li Keming didn’t know who the Lord of the Star was, so he asked my master. My master didn’t know either, and asked to borrow the pillow to look at. Li Keming said that inside it were the gardens of the immortals and towers of jade, rare flowers and strange plants, wonderful beyond words. My master wanted the pillow for himself, and besides, it would save him paying back the five hundred taels. So he killed him, and told me to bury the body in the storeroom. I thought: Yurui and I are lovers. If the master ever found us out, what would become of me? Better to cut off the head, fill it with quicksilver5 and keep it in Yurui’s cupboard. Then if the master ever did find us out, I’d have something to hold over him. Who’d have thought this fellow would steal the head, and it would all come out today?” With that he knocked his head on the floor toward the bench. Lord Bao asked further, “And the room where you buried the body — where is it?” “After the burial the place started to be haunted,” said Bai An, “so we partitioned off those three rooms on their own, put in a door and rented them to Han Ruilong.” When Lord Bao heard this, everything became clear to him. He had Bai An put his mark to the confession, and at once issued a warrant tally to bring Bai Xiong before the court.

By now the county magistrate had returned. He came up into the hall and reported: “Your humble subordinate took Qiu Feng under guard, found Liu San first and went to dig up the head. The place was beside a well. But at the spot Liu San pointed out, what we found was the body of a man. We examined it: the wound at the temple was made by an iron tool. When we questioned Liu San, only then did he say, ‘You’ve dug in the wrong place. Over here is where the head is buried.’ So we dug again, and sure enough there was a head — a man’s head that had been filled with quicksilver. Your subordinate did not dare decide anything on his own authority, and has brought Liu San and all the witnesses to await Your Excellency’s hearing.” Lord Bao heard the magistrate out and saw how careful he had been this time, not slapdash as before. He was quietly pleased. “You’ve had a tiring time of it, Magistrate,” he said. “Go and get some rest.”

He had Liu San brought up into the hall. “Where did the man’s body by the well come from?” asked Lord Bao. “Speak!” “Out with it, quick!” roared the runners on either side. Liu San hurriedly knocked his head on the floor. “No need to be angry, Your Excellency. I’ll tell you. If it please Your Excellency, that man’s body is no stranger. It’s my cousin, Liu Si. I’d got the fifty taels from the boss, and I’d picked up the head and was just off to bury it when, what do you know, Liu Si comes following along behind. ‘Burying a human head on the quiet,’ he says, ‘what’s the penalty for that?’ I offered him ten taels, and he wouldn’t have it. Then I offered to go halves, and still he wouldn’t have it. So I asked him, ‘How much do you want, then?’ ‘Forty-five taels,’ he says. I thought: there’s only fifty all told, so I’d be left with just five. I couldn’t stomach it. So I let on I’d agree, and got him to help me dig the hole — a good deep one, I told him. When I saw him bent over scooping out the earth, I let him have it with the spade, right on the temple, and buried him then and there, in that same hole. Then I dug another hole, and only then buried the head. Who’d have thought that today it would all go wrong, by such a fluke?” With that he knocked his head on the floor again and again. Lord Bao had him put his mark to the confession and taken down for the time being.

By now Bai Xiong had been brought in. His statement agreed with Bai An’s, and he handed up the Pillow of Immortal Journeys. Lord Bao looked at it and gave it to Bao Xing to put away safely. Then he pronounced judgment. Butcher Zheng was to pay with his life for the girl’s, Bai Xiong for Li Keming’s, and Liu San for Liu Si’s: all three were sentenced to beheading. Bai An, a servant who had offended against his master, was sentenced to strangulation, held in prison to await review. Ye Qian’er was sentenced to military exile6. Old Qiu, for secretly burying a human head and paying a bribe for fear of the law, was sentenced to penal servitude7. Yurui was to be sold off by the court. Han Ruilong had not heeded his mother’s teaching and, greedy for money, had brought trouble on himself, and by rights he deserved punishment; but in view of his youth and inexperience he was released and sent home, to care for his widowed mother as a good son should and to apply himself to his books. Madam Wen had raised him and kept him at his studies; when she saw money, she had thought of what was right; she had brought her son up well. The county magistrate was to give her twenty taels of silver as a mark of public honour8. As for the county magistrate himself, by rights he ought to have been reported to the throne and impeached; but since he had worked hard on the case and had taken pains after all, he was kept in his post. Lord Bao’s judgment in this case made his name known far and wide. He rested for a day, and only then set out for Chenzhou.

Our story turns now to the Southern Hero9 (Nanxia), Zhan Zhao, of Yujie Village in Wujin County, Changzhou Prefecture. Ever since he had parted from Lord Bao at Tulong Ridge, he had roamed on his own among famous mountains and celebrated sights, enjoying himself wherever he went. One day he came home and found his old mother in good health. Thanks to the old family servant, Zhan Zhong, the household was run in perfect order, and his master never had to give it a moment’s thought. Zhan Zhong was a blunt, outspoken man, and Zhan Zhao often came in for a few sharp words from him; but knowing him for a faithful servant, and a man getting on in years, Zhan Zhao never held it against him. As for himself, he did nothing but wait on his old mother, settling her for the night each evening and asking after her each morning, and doing every duty of a good son. One day his old mother felt unwell. Zhan Zhao lost no time in calling in doctors to treat her, and nursed her day and night without so much as loosening his belt. But the evening light was on the mulberry and the elm10: she took to her bed and never rose again. No medicine did her any good, and she breathed her last. Zhan Zhao cried out to heaven and beat his head on the ground, weeping bitterly. The whole funeral was arranged by the old servant Zhan Zhong, and the old lady was laid to rest in fine style. Zhan Zhao stayed at home in mourning, observing all the rites.

When the hundred days of mourning11 were over, he was still the knight-errant he had always been — how could he be content to stay at home? He left everything in Zhan Zhong’s care and set out alone, roaming the hills and rivers as he pleased; and whenever he came upon an injustice, he took up people’s troubles and got them out of their difficulties. One day he met a crowd of refugees, leading their children by the hand and carrying them in their arms, weeping and wailing — a pitiful, heartbreaking sight. Zhan Zhao shared out the silver in his money pouch among them and asked where they had come from. “Don’t ask, young sir!” they answered with one voice. “We’re all honest folk from Chenzhou. Pang Yu, the Marquis of Anle, son of Grand Preceptor Pang, was sent by imperial command to give out relief. He was supposed to come to Chenzhou to save the starving. But he trades on being the Grand Preceptor’s son. Not only has he given out no relief at all — he’s picked out the young and strong among the people to build him a pleasure garden, and he seizes women and girls besides: the pretty ones he makes his concubines, and the plain, clumsy ones he puts to work as servants. Poor folk like us could barely stay alive as it was. Isn’t such cruelty murder, plain and simple? So we’re fleeing to other parts, to hang on to what life we have left.” With that they went on their way, weeping loudly. When Zhan Zhao heard this, the hero’s gall all but burst with rage. “I’ve nothing else to do,” he said to himself. “Why not take a trip to Chenzhou?” His mind made up, he took the high road straight for Chenzhou.

One day, as he walked along, he saw a grave where a woman was weeping in great sorrow. “At her age,” he thought, “what can be troubling her, to make her grieve so? There must be something strange in this.” He wanted to go up to her, but was wary of the impropriety of a man approaching a woman he did not know. Then he happened to see a sheet of spirit money lying to one side. He quickly picked it up as an excuse and went up to her. “Don’t cry, ma’am. Here’s a sheet of paper that hasn’t been burned yet.” The old woman checked her sobs, took the paper and put it on the pile to burn. Then, by way of making conversation, Zhan Zhao asked, “May I ask your name, ma’am? Why are you here all alone, crying?” Tears ran down the old woman’s face. “We were a good, decent household,” she said, “and now it’s come to this: there’s only me left. How can I not cry?” “You mean, ma’am, that misfortune has struck your whole family?” said Zhan Zhao. “If they were all dead,” said the old woman, “I could give up hoping and be done with it. It’s this neither dead nor alive that’s harder to bear.” And with that she fell to weeping bitterly again, on and on. Seeing that the old woman’s talk was all in a muddle, Zhan Zhao grew impatient in spite of himself. “Ma’am,” he said, “if something is troubling you, why not tell me about it?” The old woman wiped her eyes and took another look at Zhan Zhao. Seeing that he was in martial dress, she knew he was no villain. “My name is Yang,” she said, “and I’m the wife of Tian Zhong.” Then, with one stream of snot and two of tears, she told him how her master, Tian Qiyuan, and his wife had come to grief. “My husband, Tian Zhong, went to the capital to lodge a complaint,” she said, “and from that day to this I’ve had no word of him. And now my young master is suffering in jail, and I can’t even take him his meals12.” When Zhan Zhao heard this, the hero was grieved and angered at once. “Don’t cry, ma’am,” he said. “Tian Qiyuan and I have always been the best of friends. I’ve been away visiting friends and didn’t know this had happened to him. Since you haven’t even enough to eat, here are ten taels of silver. Take them and use them for now.” With that he tossed down the silver and made straight for the imperial kinsman’s garden13.

To learn what happened next, read the next chapter.