Ding Rukui had been sentenced to death but never executed, surviving year after year thanks to Lu Bing exploiting loopholes in the death penalty review process for ten years.

In the Ming Dynasty, death penalty review authority rested with the emperor. Cases were sent for imperial review at year’s end. The emperor would open the files, confirm their accuracy, and mark them with his vermillion brush. The Ministry of Justice would then arrange executions—beheadings and strangulations—scheduling dates and announcing them publicly. Citizens were invited to watch executions punctually, as death penalties served to educate the people and warn against lawbreaking.

If the emperor had doubts, cases would be sent back for retrial, temporarily sparing the condemned.

But with so many death row cases requiring annual review, the emperor’s desk piled high like a mountain. To demonstrate imperial benevolence, he would always spare a few for next year’s review. Even diligent, justice-loving emperors like Hongwu would never mark every case for death.

Many death row inmates died in prison before the emperor’s vermillion brush approved their execution.

Moreover, Emperor Jiajing was busy with immortality cultivation and alchemy, lacking patience to review everything. The last several files went untouched, awaiting next year’s review.

According to death penalty review patterns, those cases on top were almost certainly doomed, while those at the bottom could usually survive another year—if they didn’t die in prison.

Lu Bing exploited this loophole, annually bribing the eunuchs who transported death row files to place Ding Rukui’s case last.

Who dared refuse Lu Bing? Besides, he paid silver.

So Ding Rukui ranked last every year, surviving year after year. Ten years passed, and he remained alive and well.

Ding Rukui’s cell had bookshelves, a writing desk, and complete writing materials. His small bed had mosquito netting, and a cloth curtain concealed the chamber pot in the corner, protecting his privacy and allowing dignified imprisonment while awaiting possible future execution.

His hair was meticulously groomed. Underground cells bred insects and lice easily, so he kept no beard. Every three days, a guard came to shave him—prisoners couldn’t touch razors or iron implements. Even bowls and spoons were wooden to prevent prisoners from breaking them into sharp fragments for self-harm or attacking others.

Lu Bing tried to make Ding Rukui’s wait for death as comfortable as possible.

Without the surrounding iron bars, iron gates, and prison guards, Ding Rukui’s condition resembled a retired hermit picking chrysanthemums by eastern hedges while gazing leisurely at southern mountains.

Meanwhile, Lu Bing, who had enjoyed unlimited glory for over thirty years, looked like a weapon covered in rust.

Placing these two together, observers would think Lu Bing was the death row prisoner awaiting annual execution.

Ding Rukui invited Lu Bing to sit in the chair beside his desk while he sat on the bed—the cell had only one chair, and Ding Rukui couldn’t very well invite a visitor onto his bed.

After Lu Bing’s coughing subsided, Ding Rukui asked: “What brings Lord Lu to visit this death row prisoner in your busy schedule?”

This busy man Lu Bing basically visited Ding Rukui once annually during year-end death penalty reviews to tell him: “His Majesty didn’t mark your name in red this year. Congratulations—you can live another year.”

This was the tenth year, only halfway through. Still summer, with half a year remaining before the tenth death penalty review. Lu Bing’s sudden visit surprised and worried Ding Rukui.

The last time Lu Bing broke routine to visit death row was in his second year of imprisonment, bringing bad news: “Your wife died of illness while being exiled to Yunnan. My condolences—please restrain your grief.”

Ding Rukui had been Minister of War, equivalent to a modern defense minister. Lady Ding was naturally accustomed to luxury, delicate as flowers with skin like snow. How could she endure the hardships of exile?

Like a fallen flower in mud, she quickly withered away.

At the time, Ding Rukui remained silent, saying nothing. After a long while, he spat blood and cried: “Yan Song has ruined me!”

Ding Rukui regretted it!

As Minister of War, he had asked Grand Secretary Yan Song’s opinion. Yan Song said to defend the capital without fighting—if they were defeated and the capital fell with the emperor captured, the Ming Dynasty would perish.

Yan Song also assured Ding Rukui: “As long as I’m here, you’ll be fine.”

Ding Rukui thought Yan Song made sense. Ming military forces were limited, and no one knew when reinforcements would arrive. Choosing between protecting people outside the city or protecting the Ming Dynasty was difficult. He followed Yan Song’s decision, ordering all forces to defend the gates without fighting.

After Altan Khan retreated, Yan Song’s son Yan Shifan persuaded his in-law Lu Bing to place blame for national disaster on Ding Rukui’s shoulders.

His wife exiled three thousand li south, his son Ding Wu exiled north to Tieling Guard—one south, one north. The day mother and son parted was their eternal farewell.

Now Lu Bing suddenly visited Ding Rukui mid-year. Ding Rukui instantly remembered his wife’s tragic death. This time, had something happened to his son exiled to Tieling?

Lu Bing said: “Today’s visit concerns your son Ding Wu.”

Ding Rukui sat steadily on the bed, appearing calm while his fingers had already reached into the bedding, tightly gripping the cotton stuffing: “How… how is he now?”

Lu Bing was also a parent, even a grandfather. He knew Ding Rukui was merely putting on an act: “Rest assured, Tieling Guard has our people. No one dares harm him. He writes excellent calligraphy—every New Year, villages for miles around seek his couplets. A few years ago, the county magistrate recruited him to the county office as a clerk managing household registration documents. He’s self-sufficient now.”

Ding Rukui was a proper jinshi graduate who had been selected for the Hanlin Academy and served as a ministry secretary. Without that catastrophe, he would definitely have entered the cabinet as a minister, possibly even Grand Secretary, reaching the pinnacle of officialdom.

His son Ding Wu, as the offspring of a criminal official, couldn’t leave his exile location or take imperial examinations. No matter how much he studied, it was useless. Working as an unofficial clerk in the county office was merely having proper employment.

His future was completely ruined.

The gap was like the former defense minister’s son becoming a temporary worker in a remote mountain police station’s household registration section—falling from the clouds to underground.

Lu Bing handed Wei Caiwei’s household registration to Ding Rukui, pointing to “Clerk Ding Wu’s” name: “This household registration came from his hand.”

After ten years, Ding Rukui saw his son’s calligraphy for the first time. Previously, his son had been a spirited young man who could write elegant flying white script. Now his son wrote proper, characterless standard script (imitation Song typeface).

Life had worn away all sharp edges.

Ding Rukui only glanced once before returning the registration: “Being a clerk isn’t bad—earning a living, supporting a family is sufficient.”

Lu Bing said: “Ding Wu remains unmarried. What family?”

How could a former capital noble fancy rural village women? How could he bear watching the next generation also trapped in Tieling’s bitter cold, generation after generation, each worse than the last?

How tragic that would be.

His son choosing not to marry didn’t surprise Ding Rukui: “Men make the world their home. My home is in imperial prison, his home is in Tieling.”

Lu Bing asked again: “Do you know Wei Nanshan?”

This question was Lu Bing’s real purpose for today’s unprecedented visit to death row.

Nothing could be hidden from Lu Bing, the intelligence chief. Ding Rukui spoke frankly: “He was my former household retainer, skilled in medicine, utterly loyal. When the Ding family fell and the tree toppled with scattered monkeys, Ding Wu was exiled to Tieling. Wei Nanshan and his wife worried he couldn’t survive alone in Tieling’s harsh land, so they voluntarily followed Ding Wu to Tieling.”

Lu Bing asked further: “Did Wei Nanshan and his wife have children?”

Ding Rukui said: “They once had a daughter, ice-smart and snow-clever, but she died at age seven. Lord Lu, how are the couple now?”

“They cared for Ding Wu in Tieling until he came of age and became a county clerk.” Lu Bing said: “Five years ago, when Lady Wei fell seriously ill, Wei Nanshan went deep into Ivory Mountain to gather medicine for his wife. He accidentally fell from a cliff, and his wife also passed away upon hearing the news.”

Lu Bing was truly a bearer of death news—every visit meant someone died.

With both loyal retainers dead, Ding Rukui felt deeply saddened: “May I set up an incense altar in my cell today? I want to offer sacrifices to them.”

Lu Bing had only sat briefly in the underground cell before feeling chest tightness and shortness of breath. He covered his chest with his left hand while supporting himself on the desk with his right: “Ventilation is poor here—burning incense would be smoky. Wait until evening to sacrifice in the outside courtyard. I’ll have guards set up an altar there.”

“Go… go outside?” Ding Rukui could hardly believe it. In ten years, he’d never stepped outside his cell. The iron-barred window overhead was his only glimpse of light.

Lu Bing said: “Of course, though you’ll have to wear shackles and chains—five jin of iron chains won’t interfere with your worship.”

Lu Bing left the underground death row and took a deep breath of fresh air, feeling for the first time that fresh air was sweet and fragrant. He asked his subordinate: “Has that Doctor Wei awakened?”

His subordinate said: “We just received Commander Lu’s pigeon message—she’s awake. Zhou Xiaoqi used our Embroidered Uniform Guard’s strongest drug on her. Ordinary people would probably be bedridden for three days, but she orally prescribed medicine for herself last night. Today she can get up and walk slowly—her medical skills seem excellent.”

Lu Bing said: “Have Lu Ying bring her here. I have questions for her.”

His subordinate took the order and caught a pigeon to send the message.

Ah! Ah!

Suddenly sharp, agonized screams came from the eastern cells, scaring the pigeon away and dropping a feather on Lu Bing’s face.

Lu Bing distastefully picked up the soft gray feather, blew it away, and asked: “Who’s howling so loudly?”

A guard immediately reported: “Reporting to Lord Lu, we’re interrogating Zhou Xiaoqi. This fellow’s stubborn, so we used some methods.”

Lu Bing asked: “What methods?”

The guard said: “The same methods he wanted to use on Doctor Wei’s eyes—dripping wax on eyeballs.”

Just hearing the name made eyes hurt.

Using his own methods against him was… fair.

Lu Bing said: “Go easy on him. Both eyes can be lost, but keep him alive.”

The guard said: “Lord Lu can rest assured—we’re veteran craftsmen with years of experience. Zhou Xiaoqi eats the Embroidered Uniform Guard’s food yet wants to smash our rice bowl. Chen Qianhu’s death was certainly strange, but when did our Embroidered Uniform Guard change its surname to ‘Chen’? He dared abuse witnesses Commander Lu wanted protected—truly audacious.”

On one side was the legendary Lu Bing’s bastard son Commander Lu Ying, on the other the fallen Chen Qianhu. Guards weren’t stupid—Zhou Xiaoqi’s attempt to undermine Lu Ying for Chen Qianhu’s sake would certainly result in severe punishment.

Zhou Xiaoqi’s actions betrayed the Embroidered Uniform Guard. Lu Bing most despised traitors and wouldn’t spare him.

Zhou Xiaoqi suffered punishment in his cell—all methods he’d previously used on prisoners now turned back on himself.

Lu Bing returned to his office. This morning’s medicinal soup was ready. He drank it in one breath, rinsed his mouth, sat on the chamber pot to relieve himself. When standing up, he suddenly saw stars and felt dizzy, nearly falling over before guards supported him.

The guard said: “I’ll immediately call a physician.”

“No need.” Lu Bing said: “I’m already taking medicine three times daily. Last night Zhou Xiaoqi’s incident woke me and I haven’t slept well, so I lack energy. Help me lie down—I’ll catch up on sleep.”

Lu Bing lay on his bed.

Outside the window, to let him rest well, guards held cicada-catching poles, removing noisy cicadas.

Lu Bing closed his eyes, forcing himself to sleep, but with matters on his mind, he couldn’t sleep at all.

Ding Rukui said Wei Nanshan and his wife’s daughter died at age seven, but according to Embroidered Uniform Guard intelligence, Wei Caiwei was clearly Wei Nanshan’s daughter who had followed the exiled Ding Wu to Tieling and settled there.

Wei Caiwei learned medicine from her parents. After Wei Nanshan and his wife died on the same day, Wei Caiwei inherited the family business, establishing herself as head physician at Ivory Mountain Medical Hall. Ding Wu, working as county clerk, helped her establish a female household.

Female households belonged to “irregular households,” exempt from corvée and military service with tax reductions, thus lightening Wei Caiwei’s burden.

Since Wei Nanshan and his wife had shown kindness to Ding Wu, his providing conveniences to orphan Wei Caiwei was natural—not abuse of power. But according to intelligence, like Ding Wu, Wei Caiwei had never married. How did she become a widow upon reaching the capital?

Strange indeed. Could the Wei Caiwei in the capital be an impostor?

Lu Bing tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Even with all outside cicadas removed, he couldn’t rest.

Lu Bing thought since he couldn’t sleep anyway, he might as well clarify these questions.

So he tried calling for subordinates to have Embroidered Uniform Guard artists sketch Wei Caiwei’s portrait and rush it to Tieling Guard for agents to verify if she was the real Wei Caiwei.

But while his mind thought this, his mouth only produced faint sighing sounds.

Words failed to convey meaning.

To guards outside the door, it sounded like ordinary sleep talk. They assumed Lu Bing was sleeping deeply.

So they didn’t enter to check.

Lu Bing wanted to get up, but he now lay like someone experiencing sleep paralysis, unable to move.

Whether calling for help or rising from bed, he could do neither—lying like the living dead.

Lu Bing was greatly alarmed!

He was having another episode!

Just ten days ago, he had attended evening entertainment and drinking as usual. After the banquet ended, remembering official business at the office, he worked at the Embroidered Uniform Guard until dawn.

With only two hours until roll call, Lu Bing was too lazy to go home and simply slept in the office duty room.

The next morning during washing, he tried to grab his toothbrush to dip in green salt for cleaning his teeth but couldn’t grasp the ivory handle.

His fingers would bend halfway then couldn’t continue.

Moreover, looking in the mirror, he discovered his right face had lost sensation. Making expressions in the mirror, his left facial muscles responded while his right face remained motionless like a fake face.

He could still speak then, commanding trusted subordinates to secretly summon the tight-lipped, trustworthy imperial physician who always treated him.

To maintain Embroidered Uniform Guard morale without alarming others, he specifically ordered against making a fuss, having the physician enter secretly through the back door without publicity.

When the physician arrived, his hand had basically recovered sensation, though his right face remained numb.

The physician immediately diagnosed a “minor stroke,” asking if he’d recently consumed alcohol.

Lu Bing nodded: “Three consecutive nights of entertainment with considerable drinking.”

The physician quickly applied acupuncture to clear meridians, warning: “This is stroke, though not severe. But having a first occurrence makes a second very likely. You absolutely cannot touch alcohol anymore—avoid rich foods and women too. Eat three meals punctually, sleep early at night. Even if you can’t sleep, lie down and rest. Now in summer with long days, best to nap at noon. Never stay up late.”

The physician applied needles and bloodletting, dissolving Tongqiao Pills in hot water for consumption. By afternoon he’d recovered, though his right hand still lacked strength.

The physician prescribed medicine, instructing regular consumption.

Lu Bing was Embroidered Uniform Guard commander with transcendent status—his every move affected everything. Not wanting anyone to know about his stroke, he gave the physician silver, demanding absolute secrecy—not even telling the emperor.

Lu Bing had been drinking stroke treatment medicine these days but claimed publicly it was summer tonic prescriptions. Even Lu Ying was kept in the dark—only trusted medicine preparers knew the truth.

After his minor stroke, Lu Bing carefully followed medical advice, hoping for quick recovery while gaining new perspective. Nothing was more important than health and life.

If one died, nothing else mattered.

Seeing Lu Ying constantly busy, staying up late investigating cases with irregular meals, he worried this child would follow his path. So he personally peeled lychees, urged her to rest at home, and relentlessly recruited genius Wang Daxia to the Embroidered Uniform Guard—all to find Lu Ying capable assistance and reduce her burdens.

Having read countless people, Lu Bing felt Wang Daxia was naturally suited for this work.

Lu Bing had followed physician’s orders these days—taking medicine daily, maintaining regular meals and sleep. Yet unexpectedly, last night’s shock over Zhou Xiaoqi’s attack on Wei Caiwei prevented sleep. He simply rose before dawn to work at the office reviewing files. This morning’s trip to the stuffy underground prison triggered another stroke.

As the physician warned, strokes would worsen each time. Last time he could walk and talk; this time he lay like the living dead.

What to do?

Unable to move, Lu Bing felt afraid and desperate for the first time—like a drowning person watching himself sink deeper.

Just then, Lu Ying and Wang Daxia arrived at the Embroidered Uniform Guard office with Wei Caiwei.

Wei Caiwei’s legs hadn’t fully recovered. After entering, Lu Ying ordered her carried in a soft sedan chair.

Wang Daxia asked Lu Ying: “What does the lord want with the little widow? She’s not well yet—making a sick person travel in this heat.”

Lu Bing was a cunning old fox. Wang Daxia worried that while he might fool inexperienced young Lu Ying, being seen through by the old fox would be troublesome, so he tested Lu Ying’s intentions.

Lu Ying said coldly: “You’ll know when we arrive. Isn’t the Embroidered Uniform Guard office safer than your Wang Manor? I’ll be responsible for protecting Doctor Wei.”

The emperor wasn’t anxious while the eunuch was frantic. Wang Daxia’s heart was chaotic while Wei Caiwei remained calm. From her previous life’s understanding of Lu Bing, the more he knew about her, the less likely he was to move against her.

The adult world rarely had purely black or white people.

Except for conscienceless people like Wang Pozi and the Chen father-son, most people had two sides, showing different faces at different times. Like Wang Daxia’s evil stepmother Wu Shi—after enduring hardships and seeing her natal family’s ugly faces, she awakened and chose kindness.

Lu Bing was someone with blood-stained hands yet retained conscience. He felt guilty toward the Ding Rukui family, suppressing Ding Rukui’s death sentence for ten years. Knowing her significant connection to Ding Wu, he wouldn’t easily move against her.

The three reached the bedroom door where guards whispered: “Lord Lu didn’t sleep well last night and is currently catching up on sleep. Please wait in the adjacent guest room, Commander Lu. We’ll bring you over once Lord Lu awakens.”

Wang Daxia opened his mouth wide in a yawn, revealing even his heart-shaped tonsils: “I’m so sleepy too. I also want to nap—quickly take me to the guest room.”

The three entered the adjacent guest room. Wang Daxia saw an arhat couch by the window and quickly sat down to lie on it.

“Get up.” Lu Ying said: “That’s where Doctor Wei rests. Fighting a sick person for space—aren’t you ashamed?”

Wang Daxia opened his eyes, seeing Wei Caiwei supporting herself weakly against the door frame after leaving the sedan chair.

“Oh, I was confused from sleepiness. Please, Doctor Wei.” Wang Daxia rolled up, yielding the arhat couch. Looking around, he pulled a thick copy of “Great Ming Law” from the bookshelf, placed it at the desk corner, then used the “Great Ming Law” as a pillow while lying on the desk.

The desk could only support him from head to knees, leaving his long legs nowhere to rest, dangling below the desk edge, swaying back and forth.

In such harsh conditions, Wang Daxia fell asleep with the back of his head against the “Great Ming Law.”

Lu Ying had to admire Wang Daxia’s adaptable attitude.

Wei Caiwei reclined on the arhat couch, turning her face toward the window—her pre-castration husband had exactly this sleeping posture. Simply couldn’t bear to look at him.

Only Lu Ying sat upright in an official hat chair on the other side, showing no signs of staying up all night, his throat buttons still fastened tightly.

Then several desperate cicadas flew in from outside, crying desperately while perched on branches. Guards with cicada poles couldn’t reach them. Lu Ying, worried cicadas would wake his father, took a slingshot outside and aimed at the branch cicadas with perfect accuracy.

“Commander Lu is indeed skilled,” guards whispered.

Meanwhile, Lu Bing in the bedroom heard outside commotion and knew Lu Ying had arrived. Using all his strength, he pushed a jade ruyi from his bedside, which crashed onto the footstool beside his bed.

Lu Ying heard the noise and looked through the window, seeing the jade ruyi on the footstool and his father’s half-extended hand from the mosquito netting.

Father was old and slept lightly—such noise would certainly wake him, yet father remained motionless.

Being blood relatives, Lu Ying felt spiritually connected and whispered: “Lord Lu, I’ve brought Doctor Wei.”

Lu Bing didn’t even move a finger.

Lu Ying immediately had a bad feeling. Not even using the main door, he climbed directly through the window, parted the gauze curtains, and met Lu Bing’s wide-open eyes.

Why not respond if awake?

Lu Ying asked: “Father, what’s wrong?”

Lu Bing blinked and made dream-like soft sounds from his mouth—completely incomprehensible.

Lu Ying saw something was wrong and quickly called in guards: “What did Lord Lu eat this morning? He seems completely paralyzed.”

The guard, knowing about Lu Bing’s minor stroke, quickly said: “Terrible—the lord has had another stroke. I’ll call Imperial Physician Song.”

Hearing “stroke,” Lu Ying was shocked. He quickly ran next door, half-supporting, half-carrying Wei Caiwei to the bedroom. In his urgency, he forgot to use formal address and said directly: “My father has had a stroke. Please examine him quickly—the guard says this isn’t the first time.”

Seeing Lu Bing’s unclear speech, complete bodily numbness, pupil changes, and hemiplegic appearance, Wei Caiwei immediately took out a set of needles. She selected a three-edged needle and pricked bleeding points at Lu Bing’s Neiguan, Shuigou, and twelve well points for bloodletting treatment, then applied needles at Zhengdui, Shangqiu, Yamen, Fengfu, Lianquan, and other acupoints.

Wei Caiwei filled Lu Bing’s Shenque point (navel) with salt, then lit a moxa stick and applied moxibustion to the Shenque point through the salt.

After these procedures, Lu Bing could finally move his fingers. He said with difficulty: “Don’t… don’t—”

“It won’t be leaked.” Lu Ying guessed his father’s thoughts. Seeing his father’s response, his heart settled slightly: “This matter is grave—father should rest well. I won’t tell anyone.”

Lu Bing pointed with difficulty at Wei Caiwei, who was holding a finger-thick moxa stick to apply moxibustion to his navel: “She—” Her identity is questionable—you must be careful.

Lu Ying said: “That’s right—Doctor Wei acted to awaken father.”

Lu Bing said: “Take… take—” Take her away. Still need Imperial Physician Song to treat me. This woman’s identity hasn’t been verified—I don’t trust her.

Lu Ying said: “Father can rest assured—I’ll certainly reward her with generous payment.” Just hush money, I understand. Being influenced by Wang Daxia’s constant money-money-money mentality, I’ve learned some worldly wisdom.

Lu Bing was helpless: With this level of understanding, if I hadn’t personally witnessed this child’s birth, I’d doubt if he was really mine.

Author’s Note: Note 1: This acupuncture and bloodletting therapy comes from the National Administration of Traditional Chinese Medicine Office’s printed clinical pathways and diagnostic treatment plans for stroke and 91 other diseases in Traditional Chinese Medicine (2017 edition).

Additionally, the audio book version of my contemporary novel “The Amazing Earl Tang” will premiere tomorrow, July 16th, on China National Radio Entertainment Broadcasting AM747 at 8 AM with a repeat at 11 PM. Interested readers can listen—it’s a fantastic contemporary novel! If you like it, this book has been published and is available for purchase… (frantically hinting).

Lu Bing’s health problems should surprise readers who gave up on the seven-question prize quiz in Chapter 22’s author’s note hahaha—that question contained Lu Bing’s fate. Tomorrow we’ll draw 1000 subscribers for red envelopes—hope you’re among them.

Starting tomorrow, daily double updates at 6:18 AM and PM. Thank you all for subscribing—see you tomorrow morning at 6:18. Good night.

Regarding the footnotes, Jinjiang requires all cited literature to be clearly marked in the text. As a creator, I will definitely mark sources. If this affects your reading experience, you can block author’s notes.