Han Zhengqing didn’t notice his trusted subordinate’s troubled thoughts. His mind was entirely occupied with Prince Dongping’s safety. Young people were prone to impulsiveness—if he returned and investigated the truth, only to be discovered by the Crown Prince or the Crown Prince’s son… He was far away in the northwest now. Though he could act with impunity here in the northwest, the capital was far from a place he could manipulate at will.
He sighed, and hearing his subordinate mention Han Yu, he gave a disdainful cold laugh: “Such trivial matters, and he can’t even handle them. Not a shred of quick wit. If something happened, he deserves it.”
Meanwhile, Han Yu and Han Yang—the two who had just been compared and judged—were sitting together shelling peanuts. As they tossed the nuts into their mouths, they listened to Marquis Dingyuan talk about how Cui Shaoting had broken through Suzhou City. Both their faces were filled with joy.
Recently, all they’d heard was bad news. Now that good news had finally arrived, they could breathe a little easier.
However, the smile on Marquis Dingyuan’s face was much fainter than theirs: “Although we’ve stopped Yecha from going to see Han Zhengqing, this is only a temporary measure. Yecha definitely won’t be content to sit and await his doom. If Han Zhengqing’s side coordinates with Yecha and they surround and blockade Suzhou City from above and below, then Commander-General Cui will be in danger.”
The smiles on both their faces froze. Han Yang couldn’t hold it in and complained: “No way, right? If you can think this through clearly, can’t Commander-General Cui figure it out? This… this is just foolish recklessness!”
Marquis Dingyuan pondered for a long while before shaking his head: “He never acts recklessly. A man who in Fujian could beat the Japanese pirates—who had troubled the court for over a decade—until they fled in disgrace, how could he act recklessly? He must have other plans. Right now, we can’t control what he does; we can only manage ourselves and try not to add to his troubles.”
Han Yang instinctively nodded. Just as he was about to speak, the door was knocked on from outside. Han Yu and Marquis Dingyuan exchanged glances and tactfully moved behind the screen. Han Yang straightened his clothes and let the person in, smiling roguishly: “Well, well, if it isn’t Commander Wu’s favorite! What’s the matter? Speak up.”
Vice General Chen had followed Commander Wu for a long time and had learned the skill of maintaining composure. His expression remained unchanged as he said: “My commander asked me to inform Young Master Han that if you want to conduct the interrogation, you should go quickly. Later, once the person dies, there’ll be nothing left to interrogate.”
The smile on Han Yang’s face gradually disappeared completely. He grunted, his eyebrows shooting up: “What do you mean?”
Vice General Chen kept his head lowered, his tone still flat and unchanging: “No particular meaning. The prisoner is old and can’t take much. After only a few rounds of questioning, there was no more response.”
Han Yang couldn’t describe what he felt in his heart, but his hands moved faster than his brain. He grabbed his cup and hurled it at Vice General Chen’s head. Vice General Chen’s eyes and hands were quick—he dodged to the side and only got splashed with a few tea leaves.
Han Yang had already started cursing: “Son of a bitch! The prince said this matter is under my control, under my control! Can’t your commander understand human speech or what?! My prisoner—is it his turn to interrogate? Is he deliberately trying to trip me up or what?!”
Vice General Chen ignored his outburst. After he finished speaking, without a single extra word: “This subordinate has delivered the message. Whether the young master goes or not is up to you. This subordinate will take his leave now.”
Han Yang glared at his retreating back, genuinely angry enough that his chest hurt.
He had just been discussing with Han Yu about finding a way to secretly get Chief Clerk Ling out, let him recuperate for a while, and send him somewhere else. Who knew such a thing would happen!
These bastards! Han Yang thought about how Chief Clerk Ling had voluntarily taken the blame for him, and imagined Chief Clerk Ling’s pitiful appearance in the prison cell—aged and on the verge of death. He felt like crying.
Han Yu and Marquis Dingyuan emerged from behind the screen, their expressions both rather unpleasant.
Although Chief Clerk Ling was Prince Gong’s man, he had always urged Prince Gong not to collude with Han Zhengqing, and later had voluntarily helped cover their identities. They all felt somewhat guilty about it.
After a moment of silence, Marquis Dingyuan sighed: “You’d better go quickly and see how he is.”
Han Yang responded and was about to leave dejectedly when Marquis Dingyuan called him back.
“If Chief Clerk Ling is dead,” Marquis Dingyuan’s gaze was calm, his tone chilling, “you can seek justice for him.” Seeing Han Yang’s eyes light up, he gave a cold laugh: “In that letter we wrote, wasn’t Wu Feng’s name on it? Go ask him what he interrogated out of the man. If he didn’t get anything… then ask him why he killed Chief Clerk Ling. Ask if it’s because he has a guilty conscience. You can make a scene—go ahead and make a big scene.”
The bigger the scene, the more that was said, the more Prince Gong would doubt in his heart.
Many things started as shadows of suspicion, but when enough people talked about them, repeated lies became truth.
Han Yang’s eyes brightened. He responded and quickly mounted his horse to head to the prince’s manor, rushing first to the prison.
Chief Clerk Ling already had more air going out than coming in. His graying hair stuck to his face, all covered in blood and filth. His already somewhat unfocused eyes brightened slightly when they saw him arrive.
In just a few days, he had wasted away to nothing but skin and bones.
Han Yang’s eyes nearly welled with tears at the sight. He couldn’t bear to see old people suffer. He crouched down and cursed loudly to hide the tears in his eyes, watching as Chief Clerk Ling’s lips moved but he couldn’t say anything.
Chief Clerk Ling exhaled, his throat rattling.
“Fight…” Chief Clerk Ling’s lips moved: “Fight with spirit…” He looked at Han Yang: “Don’t… don’t let the northwest be… be taken by the Tatars…” He grasped Han Yang’s hand, and seeing no one around, said with a voice as faint as gossamer: “My parents died at the hands of Tatars… you must fight with spirit…”
Before Han Yang could respond, Chief Clerk Ling’s hand had already dropped. His eyes closed, and all the life went out of him.
He was dead.
This wasn’t the first time he’d seen a dead person. Back on the battlefield, he’d seen plenty of corpses. He’d even buried quite a few comrades-in-arms himself. But perhaps the older one got, the more one understood the terror of death. This was the first time he truly experienced what it meant to feel utterly despairing.
From the very first day he arrived in Taiyuan, Chief Clerk Ling had been earnestly urging Prince Gong not to collude with Han Zhengqing and let the Tatars into the pass. Now, Chief Clerk Ling had died here for this very reason, and died so miserably.
Looking at Chief Clerk Ling’s skeletal, curled-up body, he began trembling uncontrollably.
While Han Yang was grinding his teeth in fury, Wu Feng was casually reporting the results of this interrogation to Prince Gong. Chief Clerk Ling was a man of iron will—he’d held on and said nothing, refusing to reveal where Marquis Dingyuan actually was or whether he had any accomplices. He had gained practically nothing from the interrogation.