The day after the snow, Nanhaizi was brilliantly white.

The guard shielded his eyes as he opened the storehouse door, and the people inside, long uncomfortable from confinement, rushed out. Before the guard could finish yawning, he was pushed into the snow, his nose bleeding from the impact. He floundered up, holding his nose while cursing, “Damn it, everyone’s in such a hurry to be reborn.” Just as he was about to get up, something in the snow cut into his hand. Squinting against the snow’s glare, he picked it up and found it was a lotus jade pendant.

“Well… these penniless wretches still have hidden treasures…”

He quickly covered his mouth, hunching as he instinctively looked around. Taking advantage of the chaos with no one watching, he hurriedly tucked the jade into his clothes.

Before he could properly hide it, a voice behind him asked, “What are you crouching for?”

“Ah? Nothing…”

The speaker was a junior supervisor under Li Shan, who, seeing his suspicious behavior, unhesitatingly kicked him twice from behind and jerked his chin up, “Quickly get up and bring the person out, the Sili Jian people are coming early today.”

The guard hurriedly stood up, hastily brushing snow from himself, and moved closer to ask the supervisor, “They’re taking him now? Has Zhang the Bearded returned to Nanhaizi?”

The supervisor covered his nose and mouth, stepping back, “You’re so agitated—keep your distance.”

After wiping his clothes and standing properly, he lowered his hand and leisurely answered the earlier question: “I heard Master Li caught him at the temple last night and sobered him up overnight.”

The guard heard this and happily exclaimed, “Ah, good! I’ll bring the person out right away. Once this task is done, we can properly celebrate the New Year tonight.”

Just as he was about to go inside, he was called back.

“Come back. What are you hiding in your sleeve?”

“Oh, this…”

“Hand it over.”

The guard had no choice but to present the lotus jade, smiling apologetically, “Your humble servant just found it.”

The supervisor examined the jade in his hand, and seeing the guard still standing before him, barked quietly, “What are you still standing here for? Go get the person!”

The guard, seeing him being dismissed, knew the jade would be taken without compensation. Though unhappy inside, he could only respond sullenly and went back, muttering as he went to fetch the person.

His bad mood made him particularly rough with Deng Ying.

Deng Ying hadn’t eaten or drunk for three days in preparation for his punishment, and though he couldn’t walk quickly, he was trying his best to maintain proper bearing while walking.

The guard grew impatient watching this and shoved him from behind, shouting, “Hurry up, haven’t you brought enough bad luck?”

Tucking his hands into his sleeves, he continued cursing, “They said you wouldn’t last long in Nanhaizi before killing yourself, but you’ve stubbornly lived for over half a month. The Ministry of Justice and Sili Jian question us about you daily—who knows if they want you dead or alive. Today you’ll get your result, so walk faster. Why drag it out? You’ll suffer that fate anyway. Don’t tell me you’re scared now and want to run. Save your energy.”

Having lost the jade, his words were especially harsh.

Deng Ying lowered his head and silently bore every word. When he raised his head again, they had reached the punishment chamber door.

The chamber was a side hall hung with cotton curtains, charcoal burning inside, lamps lit, with two people from the Ministry of Justice and Zheng Yuejia, the recording eunuch from Sili Jian, sitting facing south. Four Imperial Guards stood outside.

The guard knew his duty ended before these officials, and after carefully handing over his charge, he left without daring to raise his head.

Deng Ying walked into the chamber alone. The people inside were conversing and merely glanced at him when he entered, not particularly pausing their discussion.

“Yang Lun came to Nanhaizi early today.”

Zheng Yuejia nodded with an “mm,” adding, “The Yang family is still searching for their third daughter.”

“She’s been missing for over half a month now. Their third daughter was famously beautiful. If they find a corpse, it might at least be clean white bones, but if they find her alive… tsk… what state would she be in?”

Zheng Yuejia, being a eunuch, clearly had no curiosity about such matters.

He waved off the speaker and looked up at Deng Ying, signaling for someone to close the doors and windows. Withdrawing his hands from the hand warmer and placing them on his knees, he raised his voice slightly to address him: “You’re aware of His Majesty’s grace, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

This wasn’t Zheng Yuejia’s first interaction with Deng Ying, and though he knew of his previously good conduct and demeanor, he hadn’t expected that even in his current circumstances, he would still maintain such proper etiquette.

“Good.”

Emotions couldn’t be given too freely—too much would become gossip fodder. Zheng Yuejia raised his hand, “Remove his shackles.”

During the interval, he continued conversing with the Justice Ministry official.

“So when you came today, you met Lord Yang?”

“Oh, yes. We entered Nanhaizi together—he took people to the western slope, though I doubt they’ll find anything. This year’s harvest was poor in Nanhaizi, and not even a blade of grass grows on that western slope.”

Zheng Yuejia smiled, “Lord Yang cares for his little sister.”

“Indeed, I see the Zhang family has given up, but he’s still searching. Not just searching, but fiercely defending his sister’s honor too. Today I carelessly suggested he ask the sea households with adult males if they had any news. Guess what, Chief Zheng? If someone hadn’t held him back, I think he would have struck me.”

Zheng Yuejia didn’t engage with this, “My Lord should be more mindful of karma.”

The man laughed, “I’m just talking with you, knowing how your superior has always been at odds with Yang Lun. These people from the Six Offices, spend all day cursing the ministries, the courts, the Sili Jian, and the Twenty-four Bureaus. What’s the point? These days, who in the court has it easy? The karma from Yang Lun’s sharp tongue couldn’t fall on him, so didn’t it have to fall on his family?”

Zheng Yuejia smiled without speaking, looking up at Deng Ying, who was raising his hands to cooperate with those removing his shackles.

The shackles and chains clattered as they were removed, piling at his feet.

The Justice Ministry official, feeling his earlier words had gone too far and seeing the task completed, supported himself on his knee to stand, “Well then, Chief Zheng, from today on, the Ministry of Justice will no longer oversee this person—he’s completely in Sili Jian’s hands now.”

Zheng Yuejia also stood, “Thank you for your trouble.”

The official glanced at Deng Ying in his thin clothes and suddenly sighed, “Ah, this year’s been unfortunate, watching that whole Deng faction die off.”

Shaking his head, he led his people out.

Only after they left did Zheng Yuejia walk towards Deng Ying with his hands behind his back.

Deng Ying silently watched him with lowered hands, his gaze unchanged, though he had grown much thinner since their last meeting.

Zheng Yuejia couldn’t help sighing, reaching out to pat Deng Ying’s shoulder lightly.

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

“Good then.”

He withdrew his hand and adjusted his tone.

“The Elder’s intention is for you to enter the Inner Study Hall. Though you’ll be a eunuch, you’ll still lecture there like Yang Lun and the others, teaching poetry and literature to the children of the Inner Study Hall when time permits. If you spot any promising young saplings, you can guide them in engineering and the classics. Also, regarding the Three Great Halls of the Imperial City, you’ll remain in charge of their construction. The Ministry of Works will assign an official to work with you, of course, after you’ve recovered.”

“Yes.”

Deng Ying responded calmly.

Seeing he had no intention of saying more, Zheng Yuejia also fell silent, then suddenly asked after a while: “Nothing else you want to say? What Li Shan can’t decide, I can.”

Deng Ying looked up but spoke of something unexpected to Zheng Yuejia.

“Please tell Lord Yang Lun on my behalf that there’s a woman in Nanhaizi who might be his sister.”

Zheng Yuejia started, “How do you know?”

Deng Ying shook his head.

“As a condemned man, I shouldn’t speak more.”

Zheng Yuejia nodded, not pressing further.

“Where is she now?”

“I don’t know. She’s injured, perhaps fell down a slope before. She’s been lingering outside my detention storehouse these past ten-odd days.”

Zheng Yuejia frowned, “That seems unlikely. For the past half month, they’ve been searching for her outside Nanhaizi, causing quite a commotion. She would have no reason not to know this—why wouldn’t she seek help from Li Shan?”

This was also Deng Ying’s question. If he hadn’t heard Zheng Yuejia and the Justice Ministry official’s conversation here, he would have found it hard to believe that Yang Lun’s sister, a woman betrothed to a minister’s eldest son, would say on the night before his punishment that she lived this life for him.

Seeing his silence, Zheng Yuejia asked further: “How do you know she’s Yang Lun’s sister?”

Deng Ying lowered his eyes, “She wears two lotus jade pendants.”

The Yang clan revered jade, and all clan members, male and female, loved wearing it.

When Deng Ying pointed this out, Zheng Yuejia couldn’t help sighing, “You might be right.”

He then called outside: “Have Li Shan come see me.”

Then, crossing his arms, he asked Deng Ying, “Besides this, nothing else to say?”

“No.”

His voice was faint, carrying a sense of distance. Zheng Yuejia understood his meaning and nodded:

“Alright then, I’ll go.”

The words grew cold, and so did their meaning.

After Zheng Yuejia left, the hall’s doors were firmly locked, leaving behind a charcoal brazier that wasn’t burning very warmly. Sparks scattered sporadically near Deng Ying’s feet. He crouched down, leaned against the brazier, and slowly removed his shoes and socks, sitting quietly for a long time.

Zhang the Bearded hadn’t arrived yet—perhaps it was Zheng Yuejia’s arrangement, wanting to give him more time.

If so, it was unnecessary.

The charcoal gradually burned out.

Deng Ying finally stood up, turned to kneel on the wooden couch, and lifted a corner of the window paper with his finger.

He had no other purpose, just wanting to see the people or things outside.

Previously, he had never thought to rely on anyone, including his father, brothers, or close friends, but now he yearned for physical contact, even through prison clothes—if possible, preferably from someone slightly warmer than himself.

Was anyone outside now?

Indeed, there was.

Yang Wan sat on the stone steps behind the punishment chamber, holding her small notebook.

Snow was sliding off the eaves, occasionally falling in clumps near her feet.

While not exactly startled, it looked cold. She unconsciously hugged her legs tighter, resting her chin on her knees, silently picking at the corners of her notebook. Her eyelids were heavy, but she wasn’t sleepy.

Last night, sleeping in front of Deng Ying, she hadn’t slept well either.

She woke in the middle of the night to find Deng Ying looking up at the snow shadows on the window, seeming not to have slept at all.

There was no light at night, but his eyes held a pool of rippling light. Even though he wore thin clothes and his body seemed stiff with cold, that tranquility with which he could sit quietly in a corner the night before his punishment somehow made Yang Wan feel warm.

Entering the world of men, though gravely wounded, yet without resentment.

This aspect of Deng Ying’s humanity could heal half a lifetime’s worth of pain for many people in the 21st century.

Previously, trying to learn about what happened before and after Deng Ying’s punishment, Yang Wan had searched through several libraries in X-jing, but couldn’t find any reliable related documents.

However, there were many scattered materials in private collections of late Ming and Qing literati.

For instance, a somewhat improper Qing scholar had fabricated such a passage in his private collection.

He wrote that after his punishment, Deng Ying kept his “treasure” in a small pottery jar, carrying it with him always. Later, when he became the Superintendent of the Eastern Depot and acquired a large mansion in the city, he buried the jar under an elm tree in front of the main hall of his outer residence, ordering it to be watered with wine daily. This was called “planting the root.” It was said that if one was sincere when planting the root, it might avoid the inner palace’s pruning and something might grow from below. Unfortunately, later when Deng Ying was condemned and executed, angry Donglin Party youth dug up the wine jar, smashed it open, and burned the rotting contents to charcoal.

Upon reading this, Yang Wan decisively discarded all materials from that Qing scholar.

In historical research, one should avoid not just bias, but preferably even personal character.

How twisted must that person have been to fabricate such a brainless story about Deng Ying “planting the root.”

By the end of her research on Deng Ying, Yang Wan completely rejected any Ming history researcher’s insults against Deng Ying, regardless of their purpose. And nothing could better counter these messy accounts than genuine first-hand materials.

What could be more direct than being present at the time, witnessing things firsthand?

Yang Wan understood everything in her heart, but how to put it?

The person in the documents was dead, with no boundaries between them and the living. They had no privacy; their extinguished life was there for later generations to peer into. But the Deng Ying before Yang Wan’s eyes was different.

He wasn’t an unburnable pile of charcoal needing to be rekindled.

Yang Wan felt that, at least in this space-time, besides being her research subject, he was also a living person.

They were equals.

Never mind.

She finally decided not to pursue this first-hand material, standing up to brush the snow from her hair, but still somewhat reluctant, she turned back to look once more at the wall covered in black moss.

Never mind.

She repeated these words to herself again.

Wait until he’s better, she thought. After all, this part… wasn’t that important.