Chapter 103: The Maiden’s Skillful Cultivation of Twin Lotus Blossoms; Xia Yu’s First Case Investigation

What meaning lies within this scene? One dares not sigh over the fleeting mortal world.

Indeed, the five taels of silver were given by him—not out of extravagance, but because the young girl was a stranger traveling far from home, utterly alone.

Though she claimed the middle-aged man was her father, Song Mo II, with his worldly wisdom and keen eyes, saw through half the crimson dust of the world. He could tell at a glance that the man was by no means the girl’s true father.

Setting aside the vast difference in their demeanors—the girl, though fallen to such a plight, remained dignified and unyielding, her eyes shining with intelligence, far from an ordinary young lady. In contrast, the middle-aged man was overly simple, almost dull.

Most telling was the girl’s claim to hail from Jinling. Her speech carried a faint Wu accent, while the man’s dialect, though thick, was clearly from the nearby Sishui County.

Of course, Song Mo would not expose this; everyone harbors their own secrets.

“This trick is hardly impressive. Is there a better one? Show us again!”

“Show us again!”

“Again!”

When some called for more, others were naturally delighted to watch the spectacle.

The boy did not refuse. He slowly picked up the fallen silver and handed it to the middle-aged man for safekeeping.

Then, after a few soft coughs, the lotus blossom’s petals seemed to glow even more vividly.

The girl’s gaze swept over the crowd, finally resting on Song Mo. She spoke slowly, “In July, the lotus blooms in Ling Lake of Jinling—pure white and charming. I found it so lovely that I could not bear to leave it be, so I plucked a seed pod and placed thirteen seeds into a sachet. Whenever the mood strikes, I take a lotus seed from the sachet and place it in a copper basin to behold a rare beauty of the world once more.”

Finishing her words, she smiled gently at Song Mo and whispered, “By fate, the sachet still holds two twin lotus seeds. Dear audience, rest a while; I shall make them bloom anew for you.”

At that moment, the middle-aged man handed over a copper basin, filled seven-tenths full with water, rippling endlessly but without a single drop spilling over.

The girl withdrew two lotus seeds from the sachet, cradled them in her palm, and whispered softly.

Then, she gently dropped the seeds into the water-filled basin, the surface undisturbed.

She smiled faintly and said with a bow, “Pardon the humble display.”

Then she took out a slender jade flute, its tone sweet and melodious, like a mournful plea, yet with an urging cadence.

When the melody ended, she feigned mild irritation, “Lotus seeds, lotus seeds, why won’t you sprout?”

The crowd, unaware of the secret behind her act, fixated on the basin.

“Look! The seeds seem to be moving,” someone remarked; the girl smiled without replying.

“Now a leaf is sprouting,” another said; the girl turned away, dabbing the crimson at her lip with a handkerchief.

“Quick, is that a lotus leaf?” someone exclaimed.

Song Mo glanced up and was equally astonished.

Within the basin, two lotus seeds had sprouted leaves the size of palms.

Even in Song Mo’s previous life, with petri dishes or greenhouses, such rapid growth was impossible.

“They’re budding!”

“This lotus looks unusual!”

Soon, someone recognized the mystery.

“It’s a twin lotus! My heavens, twin lotus!”

“This is a miracle!”

Song Mo inwardly praised, for he clearly saw that the copper basin bore a twin lotus, a rare marvel that only blooms once in a decade.

Green skirts veil jade bodies; rosy cheeks adorn delicate beauty. Sharing heart and pulse, rooted and locked together; bearing the same garment and leaves.

Such a remarkable illusion truly fascinated the onlookers.

The crowd erupted in cheers, coins and silver ingots clinking onto the ground.

The music was exquisite, and the girl deserved all praise.

Meanwhile, the twin lotus blushed a shy red and bowed its head. Soon, a verdant, plump seed pod emerged.

The girl nodded in thanks, then deliberately plucked the seed pod and tucked it into her sleeve.

“The green lotus covers the water, the hibiscus wears red petals. Beneath are twin lotus roots, above twin lotus flowers,” she murmured, then dipped her hand into the basin, feeling around briefly.

When she withdrew her hand, she held a segment of lotus rhizome—a twin lotus root.

She stepped through the crowd directly to Song Mo and handed him the twin lotus root, saying, “Since fate has brought us together, I shall gift this to you.”

Song Mo accepted without refusal, but as his eyes lowered, he caught sight of the girl’s unusually pale arm and felt a pang of sorrow.

Though strangers to this land, her plight was far worse than his.

The girl returned to the open space; this time she said nothing as the middle-aged man cheerfully gathered the scattered silver.

“Copper basin white lotus—this is a clever trick,” came a hoarse voice.

Without looking up, Song Mo knew it was the blind old man.

The girl heard the remark too but only frowned slightly, offering no retort.

After the man finished collecting the silver, the girl, worn and weary, stepped aside.

The man chuckled and struck the gong, “Thank you, dear audience, for your support. The tricks are done for today; come early tomorrow!”

The crowd reluctantly dispersed. Song Mo nodded to the girl and, clutching the twin lotus root, strode away.

…

The autumn wind scattered yellow blossoms, the ripples heavy with sorrow.

Walking the long street outside the marketplace, people hurried past in a blur.

Song Mo noticed nearby on an official road, several city guards’ servants were sweeping and washing the street.

Each bucket of water washed away fresh bloodstains; the faint metallic scent of blood still hung in the air.

Song Mo did not pause—this was not his concern.

Returning to Mortuary Room Seven, he casually placed the twin lotus root on a small table and lay back on the cold bier for a sound sleep.

As evening deepened, someone knocked at the mortuary door.

Song Mo noticed the sun had not yet set—it was unlikely to be the Wei uncle and nephew.

Opening the door, he found Xia Yu.

“Why are you here?” Song Mo smiled, glad to see Xia Yu.

Xia Yu smiled bitterly, “Don’t mention it. Brother, I’ve been sent to deliver a corpse to the mortuary.”

Song Mo frowned, voice low, “Did the Six Doors treat you as a mere errand boy?”

Xia Yu sensed Song Mo’s displeasure and quickly shook his head, “No, no—not that. But there was a murder on the official road this morning, and by chance, it was assigned to me.”

Song Mo laughed, “That’s good news. Maybe they intend to promote you.”

Xia Yu smiled wryly, “Good news, my foot. It’s a senseless case. Come, let me buy you a drink.”

Song Mo glanced at the sky; there was still time before the evening watch. He followed Xia Yu to an old street tavern.

They ordered two dishes to accompany the wine. Before long, a waiter brought a pot of osmanthus wine.

After three cups, Xia Yu’s furrowed brow relaxed somewhat.

Song Mo set down his cup and asked, “What exactly happened with this murder case?”

Xia Yu drained his cup and whispered, “Don’t bring it up. This morning, a carriage on the official road ran over a woman carrying a bundle. The package spilled everywhere—filled with gold and silver trinkets.”

Song Mo pondered, “Could she have been a thief?”

Xia Yu smiled bitterly, “If only it were that simple. From what I’ve investigated, those gold and silver treasures belonged to the woman herself.”