The woman’s son knelt before the court. “Your Excellency, my name is Zhang Shi. I’m in my twenties. My father passed away early. I farm for a living, but I’m zy by nature and have long neglected the fields. We’ve been relying on my mother, who worked for the Wu Cavalry Commandant’s household, to support us.”

  Song Huaiyu: “And the one lying there is your mother?”

  Zhang Shi: “Yes, Your Excellency. That is my birth mother, Madam Zhang. Three days ago, the Wu household dismissed her, saying she’d fallen ill—she kept trembling and felt panicked for no reason, and ended up breaking a valuable vase. The masters were displeased and said they couldn’t keep her any longer. Not long after she returned home, her illness worsened. She y motionless in bed. I thought she was still angry with me for being idle, so I didn’t think much of it. But the next day, I found her body cold and lifeless—I believed she had passed.”

  Song Huaiyu: “Your mother clearly has signs of breath. Why did you cim she was dead? And what’s this about the eight physicians you mentioned?”

  Zhang Shi: “Your Excellency, I wouldn’t dare lie. I didn’t believe she was dead at first either. So I called Doctor Li from Huichun Hall. But after examining her, he said she had no pulse and no body heat. He couldn’t tell what had happened. I went to find more doctors—eight in total. All of them came, all of them examined her, and all of them said the same thing: my mother had passed. They said the faint breath left in her body wasn’t real—it was her soul, reluctant to leave because of her attachment to me.”

  “They told me to comfort her spirit, to help her let go in peace. Then that st breath would fade.”

  “But Your Excellency, before my mother fell ill, she was always concerned that of all unfilial acts, the worst was not having descendants. Her biggest worry was my marriage. Yet I’m poor, I own nothing—how could I afford a wife? Must I really wait until I’ve married before I can bury her in peace? Your Excellency, today’s funeral procession—I had no other choice.”

  While Zhang Shi was expining, Ji Ping’an quietly made her way to the side of the unconscious woman and took her pulse. Then she gently lifted the woman’s eyelids and had Dongchun bring a small bronze mirror, angling a ray of light into her pupil.

  Song Huaiyu noticed Ji Ping’an’s actions but made no move to stop her.

  A nearby constable looked to Song Huaiyu for instruction. He shook his head without saying a word, so the constable left her alone.

  Ji Ping’an handed the mirror back to Dongchun, who carefully tucked it into her sleeve. “Miss, what is it?” she asked in a whisper.

  Ji Ping’an lowered her voice and said, “Go out and tell Uncle Mu to buy some ice blocks. Quickly.”

  In Bianjing, people enjoyed ice drinks during the summer, so some merchants had ice celrs built to store winter ice for use in warmer months.

  Spring had only just begun, so ice would still be easy to find.

  Dongchun blinked. “Miss, are you craving something cold? But it’s too rushed—we probably can’t find any good ice.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Ji Ping’an gave her forehead a gentle tap. “Go now—it’s to save a life, so hurry!”

  Rubbing her head, Dongchun dashed off.

  Meanwhile, Song Huaiyu ordered Zhang Shi to provide the names of all eight doctors and dispatched men to summon them.

  Soon enough, all eight doctors arrived. Their testimonies matched Zhang Shi’s: the woman had no pulse, no warmth, and was decred dead.

  Song Huaiyu frowned. Could this truly be the work of a soul reluctant to leave its son?

  He had Madam Zhang brought over again. This time, he examined her closely and noticed a bruise on the back of her head.

  It was clearly caused by blunt force trauma.

  Zhang Shi saw the bruise too and immediately said, “Your Excellency, that has nothing to do with me! I don’t know how she got that!”

  Song Huaiyu asked, “Did your mother see anyone else after she came home?”

  Zhang Shi shook his head. “After she returned, I thought she was mad at me, so I left to drink. When I came back, she was already like this. I don’t know if she saw anyone else.”

  Song Huaiyu then sent a constable to question the Zhang family’s neighbors. Their statements were simir.

  “But,” a neighbor named Niu Er said, “I think I saw Zhang Shi talking to that fortune-teller Wang Banxian at the east alley.”

  Zhang Shi expined, “Your Excellency, all the doctors said my mother was dead. But she still seemed to be breathing. I was scared, so I went to see Wang Banxian, hoping he could help her finally let go of that st breath.”

  Song Huaiyu paused in thought. “If she’s your own mother, what were you afraid of?”

  Zhang Shi’s flickering eyes revealed guilt.

  Song Huaiyu turned to Doctor Li from Huichun Hall. “Is Madam Zhang really dead?”

  Doctor Li stroked his long goatee. “There’s no pulse. How could she still be alive?”

  Ji Ping’an interjected, “If the pulse is gone, isn’t the goal to bring it back?”

  Doctor Li snapped, “Who’s speaking such nonsense?”

  Ji Ping’an stepped forward. “Cousin Huai—no, Official Song. My family runs a medical clinic, and I’ve been sickly since childhood. Surrounded by medicine all my life, I’ve learned a bit. May I try treating Madam Zhang?”

  Song Huaiyu studied her, clearly skeptical.

  Ji Ping’an coughed lightly into her embroidered handkerchief to lend credibility to her cim—yes, she really was born frail.

  A delicate merchant girl, raised in luxury, could she possibly know how to heal the sick?

  Not only Song Huaiyu didn’t believe her, but Song Zhiyin didn’t either.

  She tugged at Ji Ping’an’s arm. “Little Cousin, don’t make a scene. This is the Kaifeng court, not a theater stage.”

  “Official Song,” Ji Ping’an gently moved Song Zhiyin aside, allowing Musheng to step forward with a bucket of ice.

  Ji Ping’an said, “Your Excellency, it’ll only take a moment. What harm is there in trying? If it works and she wakes up, we can just ask her directly. Wouldn’t the case be clear?”

  Seeing that Song Huaiyu still didn’t believe her, Ji Ping’an gave Musheng a subtle hand signal behind her back.

  Musheng wasn’t just a carriage driver—he owed the Ji family a great debt. Loyal to a fault, he would never disobey Ji Ping’an’s orders.

  Without hesitation, Musheng lifted the bucket and—spsh!—poured all the ice and water over Madam Zhang.

  “Outrageous!”

  A constable barked in anger. Song Huaiyu lifted his eyes and cast a sharp, reproachful gre at Song Zhiyin, as if to say I told you—don’t let them stay. Look what a mess you’ve caused… defiling a corpse is a serious offense…

  Song Zhiyin shot Ji Ping’an a simirly scolding look. “Little Cousin, I’m afraid you’ll have to pay dearly to escape this trouble.”

  But—

  Just as everyone was waiting for Wang Banxian to arrive for questioning, Madam Zhang suddenly gasped, then sat up and began desperately, frantically licking the ice water off the floor like a crazed animal.

  The entire court gasped in unison.

  Zhang Shi kicked his legs out in horror, screaming, “She’s possessed! A corpse has come back to life!”

  “Th-this…” Doctor Li’s face turned deathly pale. “How could someone… come back from the dead?”

  Ji Ping’an stepped forward. “She was never dead. She was just ill.”

  Song Zhiyin’s eyes widened. “What kind of illness causes no pulse, cold skin, and the appearance of death?”

  Ji Ping’an: “Heat syndrome.”

  Doctor Li: “But if it’s heat syndrome, how was her body cold?”

  Everyone held their breath, eyes fixed on Ji Ping’an.

  She remained calm. “I suspect Madam Zhang ate something extremely heating, which caused an internal excess of fire, leading to anxiety and tremors. After that warning sign, she didn’t rest or treat it. Then, some external shock overwhelmed her further. The yang energy in her body got trapped and couldn’t escape, causing a false cold state, where the pulse disappears. Since the root cause was heat, applying cold in the form of ice jolted her back. That’s also why she was so desperate for the ice water when she woke—her body still carried fire.”

  “The bance of yin and yang in the human body is like trying to see flowers through fog—hard to grasp,” Doctor Li said, adjusting his robes. He then bowed deeply to Ji Ping’an with utmost sincerity. “I am humbled. Thank you for the lesson, Miss.”

  Ji Ping’an returned the bow politely.

  Dongchun tugged her sleeve and whispered, “Miss, that bow was too much…”

  Ji Ping’an: …Then what kind of return greeting am I supposed to give?

  While she was still processing that, Doctor Li, misinterpreting her deep bow as a sign of great respect, was moved. He bowed again, this time bending even lower. “You are too modest, Miss.”

  Ji Ping’an: …So it was my bow that was too deep.

  “Mother—!”

  Zhang Shi let out a wail and threw himself over Madam Zhang. “You’re finally awake!”

  He then clutched her neck and turned to Song Huaiyu. “Your Excellency, now that my mother’s recovered, everything was just a misdiagnosis. Can we leave now?”

  Song Huaiyu’s dark eyes grew colder. He slowly stepped forward—and bam! kicked Zhang Shi in the shoulder.

  “Still lying, even with death at your door.”

  Zhang Shi winced in pain. “Your Excellency?!”

  “Just now, Miss Ji expined—your mother suffered a severe external shock that caused her false death. The constables checked your home. Neighbors said no one else entered after your mother returned. So if someone shocked her into colpse… who else but you?”

  “No, I didn’t hurt her!”

  Zhang Shi burst into tears, gripping his mother tightly. “Mother, say something! Please!”

  Madam Zhang was sobbing too. “Your Excellency… my son… he didn’t mean to…”

  “Speak,” said Song Huaiyu.

  Through her tears, Madam Zhang told the truth.

  That day, after returning home, she happened to catch Zhang Shi rummaging for money. When he saw her, he immediately demanded cash. She scolded him, telling him to spend less and find work, warning that she wouldn’t be able to support him for much longer.

  Who would’ve thought—Zhang Shi was cowardly and useless, yet had the worst temper when it came to his mother. He immediately got into an argument with Madam Zhang.

  In a fit of rage, Zhang Shi shoved her, and she fell straight back onto the bed, stiff as a board.

  He then rummaged through her clothes, took all the money she had on her, didn’t even spare her a gnce, and swaggered out the door.

  By the time he had spent all the money and came back, Madam Zhang was still in the exact same position as when he’d left.

  That was when Zhang Shi realized something was terribly wrong.

  Madam Zhang said tearfully, “Your Excellency, my little Shi… he didn’t do it on purpose. He truly thought I was dead and wanted me to pass on quickly and peacefully. He even… even sold off our belongings, borrowed money, and arranged a proper funeral. He really did everything he could for me.”

  “Mother—!”

  Zhang Shi sobbed and clung to her.

  Song Huaiyu shook with anger. “A doting mother raises a worthless son. By shielding him like this, you’ll only let him grow worse.”

  Madam Zhang replied, “Your Excellency… he’s my son. If I don’t protect him, who will?”

  Song Huaiyu sighed and said, “Bring in Wang Banxian.”

  Earlier, while Ji Ping’an was speaking with Doctor Li, Song Huaiyu had already taken Wang Banxian’s testimony.

  The moment Zhang Shi saw Wang Banxian, he curled up in his mother’s arms like a dying quail.

  Wang Banxian, under questioning, recounted the entire conversation from that day.

  It turned out that Zhang Shi had twisted the truth, disguising what had really happened between him and his mother into a vague, fictional “story” he cimed to have heard.

  Wang Banxian calcuted with his fingers and said the “mother” in the tale had lost her husband young and raised her son with great hardship, never enjoying a day of peace or luxury. Yet she died at her own child’s hand, full of resentment, and her soul lingered in the mortal world, unwilling to depart.

  He expined that the mother’s body refused to rot in order to leave behind proof of being wronged by her own son, as a plea for justice.

  After hearing that, Zhang Shi panicked. The next day, he quickly arranged a rushed funeral, ciming poverty to justify burying her outside the city. But in truth, his goal was to cremate her, destroying the evidence.

  If Ji Ping’an hadn’t discovered the signs in time, at this very moment, Madam Zhang wouldn’t have been buried alive—she would’ve been burned alive.