“Shen Daqiang loves drinking, gambling, and playing the big spender—even though he’s broke. So he knows a lot of people, but there are only three he regularly hangs out with.”
Li Guoxiang counted them off on his fingers: “Zhao the Cripple, Tian the Fourth, and Xu Big Smoke.”
“All three worked in the same workshop as Shen Daqiang. The four of them were birds of a feather—thick as thieves.”
“When my brother Shunzi died, all four of them gave nearly identical statements, as if they’d rehearsed it beforehand.”
“After Shunzi was buried, I went and gave them a good beating to avenge him.”
“If they’d had nothing to hide, they would’ve raised hell, fought me tooth and nail. But they all took it quietly and started avoiding me afterward.”
“A few days ago, I invited Zhao the Cripple, Tian the Fourth, and Xu Big Smoke out for a meal. They didn’t dare let me pay and were still overly polite. When I deliberately mentioned reopening the investigation into Shunzi’s death, all three of them panicked.”
Yue Mingli recalled the interrogation records in the case file.
Since the three men and Shen Daqiang had all worked in the same workshop as Li Guoshun, Officer Pang—who had handled the case—had questioned them thoroughly.
Just as Li Guoxiang said, their testimonies were eerily consistent.
They all claimed that when Li Guoshun died, none of them had been in the workshop yet. The night before, they’d been drinking and playing mahjong at Shen Daqiang’s place until dawn.
Afterward, they went for breakfast and arrived at the factory together.
Officer Pang had verified this with neighbors, who confirmed hearing mahjong tiles late into the night. One neighbor had even peeked in and seen the four of them playing.
The restaurant staff also remembered serving them, and the timing matched their statements.
When discussing the case with Yue Mingli, Officer Pang admitted he’d found the four men suspicious back then—something felt off—but he couldn’t pinpoint what.
“We can’t act on gut feelings. We need evidence.”
With no solid proof, Li Guoshun’s death had to be ruled a workplace accident.
But now, Yue Mingli had a lead.
After bidding farewell to the Li family, Li Xing walked them out. Once they were alone, she turned to Yue Mingli.
“Captain Yue, I have some thoughts I’d like to discuss with you privately.”
Shen Zhiqiu didn’t know why Li Xing wanted to exclude her, but she tactfully stepped away to keep watch.
“Xiao Li, what is it?” Yue Mingli asked.
Li Xing hesitated, her face troubled. “Captain Yue, I’ve reviewed my uncle’s autopsy report. I suspect he might have been… been…”
Seeing her struggle, Yue Mingli finished for her. “You suspect he was sexually assaulted?”
Li Xing’s eyes reddened as she nodded firmly.
“The bruising on his body was in unusual places. A normal fight wouldn’t leave marks like that.”
“The coroner who examined him was my mentor. He recalled noticing… tearing and swelling around my uncle’s anus.”
Yue Mingli frowned. “But that wasn’t in the report.”
Li Xing sighed. “Back then, my mentor was in the same position I am now. Some things… couldn’t be put in writing.”
“Did your mentor share anything else?”
“No. My grandmother refused to allow an autopsy—she insisted on keeping his body intact.”
“Understood.”
…..
The next day, Yue Mingli and Shen Zhiqiu split up.
Shen Zhiqiu took the medicine remnants to Hexi Village to see Dong Hesong.
“Grandfather.”
Having learned from Dong Xiaomei that Dong Hesong loved calligraphy, Shen Zhiqiu had asked Yue Guohuai for a high-quality Duan inkstone as a gift.
“Zhiqiu, you’re too thoughtful.”
Dong Hesong placed the inkstone on his desk, then sniffed the air, his eyes landing on the oilcloth bundle in Shen Zhiqiu’s hands.
“Rehmannia glutinosa, Angelica sinensis, white peony root, Ligusticum chuanxiong… Si Wu Tang (Four Substances Decoction).”
“Grandfather, you’re amazing! You didn’t even see the prescription, but you could identify the ingredients just by smell!”
She unfolded the bundle on the desk and handed him the prescription first.
“Grandfather, these are some of the formulas my mother took before she died. I was hoping you could tell me if there was anything… wrong with them.”
Dong Hesong examined each one. They were all variations of Si Wu Tang, with minor additions or subtractions—nothing unusual.
“The prescriptions themselves aren’t problematic.”
Setting them down, he explained:
“Zhiqiu, prescribing medicine requires adapting to the patient’s condition and addressing the root cause.”
“For example, if someone suffers from excessive internal heat, we use cooling, yin-nourishing herbs. In such cases, warm or tonifying herbs are generally avoided.”
“But if the patient has cold lower body and heat upper body—an imbalance of water and fire—then we guide the heat downward, perhaps using warm herbs for foot soaks.”
“So whether a prescription is appropriate depends entirely on the patient’s condition. If it aligns, it’s suitable. If it contradicts, then it’s harmful.”
“Grandfather, could you check these medicine remnants too? See if anything’s off.”
Dong Hesong studied them carefully but shook his head. “No issues here either.”
Shen Zhiqiu’s voice trembled. “How can there be nothing wrong? If these medicines were fine, why did my mother die from taking them?”
Dong Hesong paused. “Zhiqiu, tell me—when exactly did your mother take these?”
After hearing about Ye Yunshuang’s condition, Dong Hesong re-examined the prescriptions, his expression darkening.
“No wonder… No wonder.”
He spread the prescriptions out, pointing to the dates.
“After childbirth, your mother was severely depleted of blood and qi. At that stage, ordinary Si Wu Tang would’ve been safe. But look what she was given—Tao Hong Si Wu Tang!”
“That formula promotes blood circulation and disperses stasis. For someone already blood-deficient, it’s poison! It would’ve drained her further.”
“She took it for over a year—enough to ruin her constitution. Even if she’d switched to proper tonics later, recovery would’ve been impossible. Worse, these later prescriptions added one or two cold-natured herbs each time.”
“On paper, they ‘balanced’ the heat of rehmannia and chuanxiong. But for your mother’s condition? They were a death sentence.”
Dong Hesong grew angrier, jabbing at the prescriber’s signature.
“This Xu Lai—he barely knew the basics of medicine yet dared to write prescriptions! Treating human lives as a joke!”
“Grandfather, you know him?”
“Know him?!”
Dong Hesong’s chest heaved with rage. “He led the charge against traditional Chinese medicine back then! Demonized me publicly! And he stole medical texts from me!”
