Yang felt increasingly lost. As he was not a poetry reader, what Mo was talking about meant little to him. But could that be of any help to Judge Dee? Stealing a look out of the lattice window, he saw the sky overhead becoming somber with rain clouds scurrying across the horizon.

He rose, thanked Mo, and left with the proof clutched tightly in his hand.

After an exchange of pleasantries with several other monks in the courtyard, after admiration of the poems left by other celebrated poets on the garden wall, after inquiries about the possibility of having a service arranged at short notice, after casual questions about the interesting or unusual things that had happened of late around the temple, Judge Dee had just arrived back at his room, putting his black cap on the table, when Yang hurried in with a package in his hand.

Yang appeared to be in high spirits, in spite of his rain-dampened clothes.

‘You got caught in the rain?’

‘It’s just a drizzle. Nothing to worry about. Here is the proof of the collection Night Poetry Talk by Xuanji.’

‘You’ve actually obtained the proof, Yang?’

Yang took the seat opposite, drained a cup of tea in one gulp, and told Dee what he had learned about Xuanji during the day.

The account Yang gave was far from well organized, digressing with details seemingly irrelevant to the murder case, especially with those tall tales about the black fox spirit he had learned of in the village. It was quite a while before Yang came to the end of his excited narration.

‘In addition, here is a silk scroll of Xuanji’s poem in her own calligraphy. It was sold to the store by someone named Wei, a man she had been seeing in secret, though it’s hardly a secret in the neighborhood.’

‘It’s a steal for the price you paid.’

‘I thought you might need me for something else in the temple, so I did not have time go to see the flower girl. She’s at the southern end of the village. Perhaps I can have a talk with her tomorrow.’

‘A marvelous job you have done today!’ Judge Dee said, rubbing his hands over the top of the proof. ‘I truly appreciate it. Now it’s time for you to take a break. I’ll have the temple special – a bowl of mushroom soup noodles – delivered to your room. It’s delicious. You deserve it after such a long, productive day’s work.’

Yang looked up at his master, making no comment. He knew better than to push for some immediate response regarding the investigation from Judge Dee, who kept caressing the silk scroll spread out on the table, without offering to tell him anything about what he had learned from Han Shan in the temple.