"What do you mean?" I asked, taken aback.

Song Heting explained that the Song family had been ill-fated since the Southern Song Dynasty. Thus, an ancestor who was well versed in the philosophy of change came up with such a way to divide the Song family. The two clans had the exact same genealogical records so each clan played shadow to the other.

It was of practical significance to do so, much like the Double Dragon Formation in military tactics. The two families could help each other, and in the event of a catastrophe, certain members of the family could escape disaster. During the Ming Dynasty, Assistant Minister of Justice, Song Tiemian, was framed by traitors which implicated all his relatives. The civil Song clan almost entirely collapsed and only made a comeback with the help of the martial Songs...

There was another interesting fact about the two clans–in order to preserve the continuity of the Song family, the two clans always stood on opposite sides in the times of great historical changes! For example, during the War of Liberation, the head of civil Songs was chief of staff within the People's Liberation Army, while the martial Songs joined the Kuomintang. With the help of the civil Songs, the martial Songs launched the Changsha Uprising and managed to prevail through turbulent times without a hitch.

Song Heting sighed, "As the saying goes, those stubborn and rigid are easy to break. We have a large number of talented people in the Song family and it is inevitable for us to attract great attention. In order to survive through troubled times, our ancestors came up with this strategy, which is why the three elders have ordered me to stop you from dealing with the Jiangbei Daggers. Not so much for anything but for the big picture, for the entire Song family!"

"Aunt Song, I’m not being obstinate for no reason. The organization has been lawless for..."

"Let's not talk about this now,” Song Heting held out her hand. “Solving the case at hand is more important!"

After looking through the genealogical records, she said, "Let's head over to the hill to have a look," she cried.

With that, the four of us went up the hill once more. The ashes of the joss paper burned by Granny Yan last night still remained in front of the grave. Looking around, Song Heting declared, "This grave belongs to my brother."

"When did your brother die?" I asked in surprise.

“Eight years ago, he was killed by an enemy,” replied Song Heting. “It can’t be him!"

Upon further reflection, I realized only Granny Yan knew who the victim’s identity was since the bones had been switched. Thus, I decided a visit was in order.

"Be polite when speaking to her,” advised Song Heting. “Although Granny Yan is an outsider who moved into the village, she is the current village shaman and her status befits the title. Don't use the Eyes of Yama on her."

After I agreed to her precautions, Song Jie, Song Xingchen and I headed to Granny Yan’s home. Several knocks on the door later, a middle-aged woman greeted us and asked who we were looking for. I made up an excuse to see Granny Yan which the middle-aged woman then reported.

Song Jie whispered, "This woman is also a widow. She’s now dedicated to serving Granny Yan. Everyone says she’ll be the next shaman after Granny Yan passes."

"Ooh, can they tell?” I laughed. “Maybe you’re the one?"

"Go away! How dare you curse me! The shaman must be a widow. It has been like this since the first shaman in the Southern Song Dynasty and that has never changed."

Aware of my mistake, I apologized with a small voice.

A while later, the middle-aged woman invited us in. The room was dark and lit with sandalwood. Mysterious items, amulets, spices and paper men hung on the walls. Granny Yan sat on a mat, holding a string of prayer beads in her hand with incense burning before her.

I was about to open my mouth to speak when Granny Yan suddenly stretched out her claw-like hand, grabbed mine and squeezed hard. The pain almost made me tear up. It turned out that she was feeling for my bones.

With her eyes closed, she said, "Both dragon and tiger[1] lay in your palm. You have the fortune of one in a million but the fires burn strong and you will face three calamities. However, heaven helps the worthy. Looks like Heting has found a good son-in-law!"

"Granny Yan, you’ve made a mistake. I’m also a member of the Song family and Song Heting is my aunt,” I awkwardly explained.

Granny Yan opened her eyes and looked at me. "What can I do for you?"

I stopped talking and glanced at the woman standing behind me. "Cui Huan, leave us," waved Granny Yan.

"A man died in the village five years ago,” I went straight to the point.

"People die every year," came Granny Yan’s deadpan reply.

"I'm talking about a murder, and the man's body is now hidden in the sacred tree in the village. You don’t know about this, do you?" I asked meaningfully.

With her status among the villagers, no one ever offended Granny Yan. Thus, she wasn’t as calm or resilient as a criminal. Upon hearing this, she grew visibly nervous but still remembered to squeeze out a calm smile. "I must be too old to understand exactly what you’re trying to say."

I refused to budge, "Granny Yan, you live in this village so you must know the skills of the Song family. Where did you go last night? If my guess is right, your shoes are still stained with soil from the grave. Should I check them to prove my point?"

Granny Yan played with her prayer beads, "That person is already dead. What’s the point in turning out old scores and harming the living?"

"If the world worked as you say, then the police would be out of a job. Anyway, people can't be resurrected after death so what’s the point in catching the murderer, am I right?" I sneered.

"Young man, if you don’t watch that mouth of yours, I’ll have to invite you out of my home!” shouted Granny Yan.

"Granny Yan, with all due respect, your status might make you respectable but I am investigating this case. No matter who you are, you’ve only one identity before me, and that is a criminal suspect!"

Keeping her head lowered, Granny Yan remained silent. "Did you kill the victim?" I pushed on.

"I have been a vegetarian all my life. I’ve never even hurt a chicken, much less a human being."

From her microexpressions, I gathered she was telling the truth. It seemed that Granny Yan wasn’t the murderer, though privy to the crime.

In order to unsettle her, I recounted the entire story. "But you are hiding the truth for the murderer. You secretly removed one or two bones while performing burials and managed to produce a corpse seemingly out of thin air, which hides the identity of the corpse in the banyan tree. As a shaman, it is not disrespectful to the deceased? What could make you do this? There are two possibilities–the murderer is closely related to you or perhaps it involves your interests!”

Her fingers moved frantically along the prayer beads. Song Jie stared wide-eyed at me, afraid I would anger Granny Yan with my aggressive tone.

However, dealing with someone respected required such methods. This was my personal experience in solving cases.

"Young man!" Granny Yan’s eyes flickered open as she held out a skinny finger and fiddled with the rising smoke from the incense burner, writing: Where it is possible to let someone off, one should spare them.

"Ah!" exclaimed Song Jie.

"Song Yang-gege, let's go!” she whispered. Then turning to Granny Yan, she said, “Excuse us, Granny Yan."

In the face of her so-called miracle, my heart was as calm as a frozen lake. "I have a few words for you as well!"

I pulled out a small bottle from her cushion, dipped my finger inside, and wrote in the smoke: God is watching.

The words stayed in midair for a few seconds before slowly drifting away...

"That’s enough!" exploded Granny Yan. "Get out of my home and learn some etiquette before visiting me again." With that, the widow ran in and gave us a marching order.

"Granny Yan, do you believe in ghosts?" I lowered my voice. “He’s in this room right now."

As I spoke, I used the Eyes of Yama, not on her but on the row of candles behind her.

And the candles went out at once...

[1] Dragons and tigers are metaphors for outstanding, heroic men.