‘But one has to do things within the system, Qiao. The empress is a wise benevolent dictator, so to speak, and capable of listening to the good, capable people who care about the welfare of the country.’

‘But aren’t you ashamed of standing side by side with those people capable only of pleasing her in bed?’

‘What’s the point of dwelling so much on her private life? After all, she never mixes the private with the public.’

‘The empress knows you are loyal to her, but at the same time, to the Li family as well. The double allegiance is not something she would easily forget or forgive, Judge Dee. You’d better brace yourself for the consequences.’

‘I understand, Qiao.’

‘You don’t understand. Be aware of the signs of dragons you have just seen, Judge Dee—’

Another knife came flying in, aiming not at the pillar, but at the dragon soaring in the snow, stretching across a long scroll of classical Chinese painting on the wall …

TWO

Judge Dee woke with a start. The scenes from his dream began fading fast like ignorant armies shouting, clashing in confused alarms of fighting in the fast-retreating night. Rubbing his eyes, disoriented, he found his blue cotton gown drenched in cold sweat.

The candle had burned itself out on the table, with white wax drops scattered around the stub, and a faint smell still lingering in the air.

The bare, crumbling wall presented no painting of a dragon soaring across the swirling snow, nor was there any visitor from his younger days sitting opposite at the table. The light of the early morning began streaming into the hostel room.

Dee did not believe in the interpretation of dreams. But the reappearance of the dragon signs in association with the earlier ones from the Book of Changes filled his heart with an uncanny trepidation.

He started to contemplate the feasibility of finding a different approach to the murder case, though he kept reminding himself that he’d better investigate under the cover of something else.

Pulling away the sweat-soaked blue robe, he put on a black one with a subdued pattern, adjusting his cap again in the bleary reflection of the bronze mirror. It represented an apparition of the figure both strange and familiar, totally unlike the one in that nearly forgotten dream.

He was trying to recapture some details in the dream scene, taking a small sip at the cold tea, when he heard a light knock on the door.

Turning over his shoulder, he saw Yang pushing the door open soundlessly, carrying a wooden breakfast tray, and frowning at the sight of the unslept-in bed, before his glance swept around to Judge Dee who was still sitting stiffly at the table.

Yang, too, might not have slept a wink after their discussion about the knife message.