Yang Wan’s fingers had already reached the window latch, but hearing Deng Ying’s voice, she drew them back reluctantly.
She turned to ask him, “What’s happening?”
Deng Ying glanced at the window screen, simply saying, “Come here first.”
Yang Wan rose and walked back to Deng Ying’s side, still unable to resist peering outside, “Are they beating someone?”
“Yes.”
Deng Ying casually opened a book, drawing his gaze back as well, “Don’t go out. Wait until they finish.”
Yang Wan nodded, no longer speaking rashly. She arranged her sleeves and sat down beside Deng Ying, listening intently.
In the spring afternoon, emerald bird feathers trembled gently in the sunlight, all the courtyard shadows showing a gentle self-awareness toward the clear day.
Everything around was deathly quiet, not even agonized cries could be heard under the beating.
But both Yang Wan and Deng Ying understood this was because the victim had been gagged. This wasn’t mere punishment for a servant – this was a beating meant to kill.
Neither spoke, silently waiting for the tragedy outside to end.
The beating carried obvious killing intent, giving the victim no chance for survival. It was precise and efficient – after just over ten strikes came the sound of a spine breaking.
Yang Wan couldn’t help but draw in a sharp breath.
She grabbed Deng Ying’s wrist.
The spring robe’s sleeves were wide.
Earlier, for reading and writing, he had deliberately rolled up his sleeves three inches, half his forearm exposed on the desk. Yang Wan’s grip instantly broke the proper distance between men and women.
Deng Ying looked down at that clean white hand.
Her skin was like warm porcelain, set against a jade bracelet.
Like all noble young ladies in the capital, she had originally kept her nails about half an inch long, but due to clawing during her fall at the lake, they were almost all damaged. The newly grown ones hadn’t yet been dyed with safflower. They looked soft, with a pale natural color.
Sometimes, Deng Ying unconsciously avoided this young and beautiful female body hidden under silk and satin.
Just as he avoided his own body.
But he dared not dodge, fearing she would misunderstand it as him being repulsed by contact with her.
So he could only try to quietly withdraw his arm forward, attempting to pull his wrist from her hand.
But Yang Wan didn’t let go. Her arm brushed against the book pages on the desk, sliding toward him as he pulled back. Deng Ying didn’t dare move anymore, forced to leave his arm stiffly across the desk, allowing her grip to tighten.
Soon, the beating stopped.
Then came the sound of dragging, thin clothing brushing through the grass. Two or three black shadows passed by the window screen, their footsteps quick, soon disappearing into the distance.
Throughout this process, there wasn’t a single human voice, only the sound of flesh being struck and hurried yet composed footsteps.
But the smell penetrated everywhere.
Yang Wan smelled the blood and suddenly felt violently nauseous.
She wanted to vomit.
Strangely, she wasn’t afraid of the dead person being dragged outside, she just felt purely sick.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, just… feel… very nauseous.”
She covered her mouth and turned away, her shoulders hunching up as she tried to suppress the urge to vomit.
“Has this… not been the first time?”
Before she could finish speaking, her stomach churned, acid nearly rising into her throat, suddenly stinging her eyes.
She quickly crouched down and held her breath, curling almost into a ball as she endured, her whole body cold and shaking like chaff in a sieve.
Deng Ying watched Yang Wan crouching on the ground, feeling unprecedented anxiety.
He looked down at his hand, suddenly feeling his desire to touch her at this moment was so base and shameless.
He quickly tucked his hand into his sleeve, turned to pour a cup of water, rolled up his sleeves, and crouched down, bringing the cup before her eyes, “Don’t speak yet, drink a little.”
Yang Wan took the water and tilted her head back to take a mouthful, pressing her chest as she tried to swallow slowly, finally beginning to calm down.
She rinsed her mouth again with water, threw back her head to gather her breath-dampened hair behind her ears, wiped the tears that had been forced out with her sleeve, and gasped: “That… almost killed me.”
Deng Ying took the cup she had drunk from, and stood to place it on the desk, suppressing his inner turmoil, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you would feel so ill, I…”
“It’s fine.”
Yang Wan didn’t know what this “sorry” was apologizing for, nor how to explain her reaction to him. After all, in modern civilized society, the scene of “executing” someone was hidden from the public. She had a legal concept of the death penalty, but no concept of fresh corpses or the smell of dead people’s blood.
Thinking this, she pressed her throbbing temples, “I’m fine now, just couldn’t handle that smell for a moment.”
After speaking, she sniffed again, grabbed the chair back to stand up, lowered her head to arrange her dress, and asked in a muffled voice, “Why has the Directorate of Ceremonial been executing so many people lately?”
Deng Ying took advantage of her inattention to lower his sleeves, covering the skin of his wrists, and asked her in return, “What has Senior Lady Jiang told you all?”
Yang Wan shook her head while arranging her clothes, “Senior Lady is the most proper among the female officials, she wouldn’t mention such things.” After speaking, she returned to sit at the desk, took out her notebook, turned to a new page and smoothed it, dipped her brush in ink, raised her head, and continued, “I’m wondering if it’s because of the corruption case at the Liuli Factory.”
Deng Ying originally didn’t want to mention this matter, but seeing Yang Wan’s manner as she held her brush, he couldn’t bring himself to respond coldly.
Since knowing Yang Wan, she has always been writing in this notebook. Deng Ying couldn’t understand the writing on it, but he rather liked watching her write.
Composed and focused, showing none of the self-pity common among inner palace women.
“They just executed someone for this matter, you were so ill just now, why do you still want to ask?”
“Want to understand things clearly while living in the palace.”
She pointed her brush tip toward the window, “Look at them, didn’t they die unclear about everything?”
She drew back her brush, blocking the hair that had fallen loose from her temples, and continued, “Besides, I only ask you, nothing will happen.”
Hearing her say this, Deng Ying couldn’t help but smile, “You trust me so much?”
“Of course I trust you, no one in this world trusts you more than I do.”
Deng Ying was slightly stunned.
When people are in humble circumstances, or trapped in inexplicable disgrace, they become afraid of someone recklessly trusting them, as this represents not only their sinking but will also be their downfall.
Just like those scholars from Tongjia Academy who were now being tortured in the imperial prison.
Deng Ying didn’t feel his life deserved such sacrifice.
Since his imprisonment, he had spent a long time convincing himself that if he couldn’t walk in daylight, he would move in the cold night, but he preferred to walk alone, unwilling to mention any lantern lit solely for him.
“If you don’t want to talk about it, I’ll speak first, and you listen to see if I’m right.”
After speaking, she lifted her notebook and turned forward several pages, one hand propping her chin, the other reversing the brush handle, pointing at key places in her notes as she said: “This Wang Shunchang from the Liuli Factory is the adopted son of He Yixian, the seal-holding official of the Directorate of Ceremonial. Though the deficit discovered by the Ministry of Works this time amounts to over a million taels, compared to the entire inner court’s deficit, it’s just a drop in the ocean.”
She circled something at a certain point, but didn’t directly state the specific number verified by later generations, and looked up to ask Deng Ying: “You and Master Zhang have led the imperial city construction for so many years, do you have a concrete figure in mind for the construction’s income and expenditure?”
Deng Ying was silent at first, then gave a slight nod.
“How much?”
Deng Ying didn’t answer.
Yang Wan didn’t ask further, lowering her head to move her brush away from that number, “Alright, you don’t need to say it yet, anyway it’s a number that would get a lot of people killed if spoken.”
She turned another page, “Now the imperial cabinet very much wants to hand Wang Shunchang over to the Three Judicial Offices, but the Directorate of Ceremonial wants to treat him as a servant and handle him within the palace. The reason is that once Wang Shunchang enters the Ministry of Justice’s prison, the foundations of these Directorate officials will also be completely exposed. The imperial city’s construction over forty years, with income and expenditure of no less than tens of millions, the twenty-four departments inside and outside during the Zhenning years – weaving, coal and firewood, rice and meat, water supply – the consumption was enormous. It’s unavoidable for taxpayers to support the imperial clan, but to support…”
“Yang Wan.”
Deng Ying suddenly interrupted her.
Yang Wan looked up, “What’s wrong?”
“Don’t touch this matter, it has nothing to do with you.”
Yang Wan put down her brush, “I know, but this matter is related to you.”
She stopped speaking at this point, quietly looking at her notebook.
“Yang Wan.”
He called her name again.
“Hmm?”
“How did you see this layer?”
“You asking this means you’ve thought of it too, haven’t you?”
Deng Ying was stunned.
Yang Wan’s words were almost touching the core of the matter.
When his father Deng Yi was in the imperial cabinet, to please and deceive Emperor Zhenning, he indulged the Directorate of Ceremonials to take the lead, forcing the Ministry of Revenue to heavily skew finances toward imperial clan expenses. The imperial city construction item was already overburdened, yet the emperor kept bestowing gifts on various princely mansions.
The year before last, when Prince Cheng, Emperor Zhenning’s brother, reported to the inner court that his consort Lady Jiang had given birth to a son, Emperor Zhenning had impulsively granted Lady Jiang’s maternal family in Nanjing a thousand taels of gold. It should be noted that at the time, there was still fighting on the northwestern border, and the salt commissioner going south to raise military funds was so burdened he nearly hanged himself on the ship returning to the capital to report. Yet the inner court paid no attention to the severe financial situation, continuing to expand the number of eunuchs and palace maids, while various royal mansions remained insatiable in their demands for silk, cotton, and food.
And once these things were accounted to the inner court, they fell under the emperor’s name. No one in the Three Judicial Offices or Six Ministries dared investigate, and there wasn’t a eunuch in the Directorate of Ceremonial who didn’t line their own pockets. As for how much these eunuchs embezzled, even later historical research could only estimate roughly – during the Zhenning years it was an “astronomical number.”
This was the Great Ming Dynasty under Deng Yi’s control.
Precarious as eggs piled high, the collapse was but a moment away. Though Deng Ying wasn’t in court, he was involved in the imperial city construction, and over more than ten years, he had seen and recorded much. In his youth, he had even written down some items, but when Zhang Zhanchun accidentally discovered this, he called Deng Ying to his study and severely scolded him.
Since then, he has constantly warned Deng Ying, “The time hasn’t come, don’t attempt the impossible.”
After that, Deng Ying never saw the account book he had privately kept in his youth again.
Even when Zhang Zhanchun retired that year, when Deng Ying personally cleaned his chambers, he couldn’t find it.
So, in his teacher’s eyes, was it still not time?
“Deng Ying.”
Yang Wan waved her hand in front of his eyes.
Deng Ying came back to himself, to find she had already closed her little notebook and was leaning forward, slouching in front of him.
“Don’t think too much. Did you hear me?”
“Do you know what I’m thinking about?”
“I do. If you don’t feel it’s offensive, I’ll tell you.”
Deng Ying smiled, “Nothing you say to me is offensive.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
He nodded sincerely.
Yang Wan smiled too, “You’re too good to me.”
She straightened up, looking into Deng Ying’s eyes, “Hmm… you’re thinking, if the Three Judicial Offices of the imperial cabinet trace the Liuli Factory connection to you, whether you should stand together with your former teacher and fellow disciples.”