Wei Caiwei thought: Making someone look half-dead is too difficult. Actually, I’m more skilled at directly killing them.
But Lu Ying mentioned Ding Rukui: “…Vice Minister Yan wants him dead, and my father has been finding ways to delay the death sentence every year, claiming Ding Rukui is ill. Vice Minister Yan still isn’t reassured and wants to personally see him in the death row.”
Upon hearing this concerned Ding Rukui’s life, Wei Caiwei immediately perked up. Her mind raced, and her gaze fell on a pot of anthurium flowers used for decoration in the room.
Wei Caiwei immediately used a handkerchief to pluck the long, thin pistil from the anthurium flower’s center—she picked five in total—and said: “Take me to see Ding Rukui.”
Ding Rukui’s death cell was clean and tidy, with a wall full of books. This definitely couldn’t be seen by Yan Shifan, showing how well Lu Bing treated him.
Lu Ying immediately brought Ding Rukui out and locked him in the cell that had held Zhou Xiaoqi, who was now blind in one eye. Zhou Xiaoqi was moved to a secret location.
Zhou Xiaoqi’s left eye was wrapped in gauze, and his right eye looked at Wang Daxia and Wei Caiwei with venomous hatred. To prevent him from screaming, his mouth was gagged with cloth, only allowing muffled sounds.
Wang Daxia chuckled coldly: “You chased me from Wanping to Daxing, almost turned me into a pincushion at the Shuntian Prefecture office, and nearly blinded Doctor Wei. An eye for an eye—you have your day too!”
Zhou Xiaoqi was carried away. Ding Rukui entered the cell, which had foul air and was so dirty that even the original color of the walls couldn’t be distinguished, as if generations of death row inmates had smeared excrement on them.
The walls also had various bloodstains—some blackened old ones, some fresh red drops that clearly belonged to the one-eyed prisoner who had just been here.
This cell was absolutely suffocating!
Additionally, there was a woman in the cell who had claimed last night to be the adopted daughter of the Wei Nanshan couple. She opened her handkerchief, revealing five thin, elongated pistils: “Chew these up and swallow them. Your throat will tighten and ache, you’ll have difficulty breathing while speaking, and you’ll drool, looking gravely ill.”
“But don’t worry—afterward, drink lots of water, and I’ll prescribe a heat-clearing, detoxifying remedy. You’ll recover quickly.”
Lu Ying pointed to a set of dirty, stinking prisoner clothes on the broken mat: “Hurry up and change, lie down, mess up your hair, and pretend to be sick.”
Ding Rukui didn’t understand what was happening.
Wei Caiwei said: “If you still want to see last night’s moonlight and see Ding Wu, cooperate and do this.”
This sentence was indeed effective.
Ding Rukui chewed all five anthurium pistils in one go while changing clothes.
After swallowing the pistils, they took effect immediately. Ding Rukui felt as if countless knives were cutting his throat and invisible hands were choking his neck. He had difficulty breathing but wouldn’t die from it.
He was forced to breathe heavily through both mouth and nose, his chest heaving violently, with clear saliva flowing from his lips.
Even in this half-dead state, Lu Ying had Wang Daxia put shackles on him.
Wang Daxia brought over ten-pound shackles and fastened them around Ding Rukui’s ankles.
Wei Caiwei mixed colors and painted various purple and red marks of beatings and abuse on his exposed skin.
Yan Shifan accompanied Lu Bing for two cups of clear tea before being invited by Lu Ying to the underground death row.
At the entrance, Lu Ying handed Yan Shifan a cloth strip with thin cotton padding: “It smells terrible inside, and most death row prisoners are sick. To avoid offending Uncle Yan, use this to cover your nose and mouth.”
Lu Ying demonstrated first, tying one on herself, then asked: “Does Uncle Yan need help from this junior?”
Yan Shifan’s arms were fat and short, making movement inconvenient.
Of course, life was more important. Yan Shifan nodded and still had the mood to joke with Lu Ying: “Good thing these are white cloths. If they were black, we’d look like masked bandits.”
When elders tell jokes, even unfunny ones, juniors must laugh along. Lu Ying laughed appropriately: “Uncle Yan is so witty.”
Lu Ying tied the cloth strip for Yan Shifan.
The underground entrance was a long, narrow slope. The stone slabs on the slope showed traces of hasty sweeping, clearly recently cleaned. Guards ahead held ram’s horn lanterns to light the way.
The underground death row was like a maze of individual cells. To prevent fires, only guards carried lanterns for patrol—no flames were allowed in the cells. So after nightfall, death row inmates could do nothing but sleep.
Those not sleeping also lay on their beds with closed eyes. Even sensing approaching light, they were too lazy to open their eyes.
No vitality, no energy—just walking corpses waiting to die.
Yan Shifan was accustomed to this scene. Winners and losers—he and his father Yan Song had stood firm at court for over thirty years, sending one opponent after another here because they had always been winning.
They couldn’t afford to lose. The higher the position, the harder the fall, the more they couldn’t afford to lose. One step back meant a ten-thousand-foot cliff, so when Yan Shifan learned that calls to overturn Ding Rukui’s case were growing louder, he had to completely eliminate this threat to prevent being devoured.
“We’re here.”
The guard placed the ram’s horn lantern on a table in front of the cell.
On the table sat a five-branched lamp stand with five candles. Under the table was a brazier burning mosquito incense.
“Please sit, Uncle Yan,” Lu Ying indicated the only chair.
With Yan Shifan’s dumpling-like build, this journey was too difficult. Still wearing a face mask he couldn’t remove, he was sweating profusely from the heat. Being naturally pale, he now looked like a melting snow mountain.
Yan Shifan sat down, clutching his chest, somewhat breathless.
Wang Daxia, who had just arranged the table and chairs, opened a folding fan and vigorously fanned Yan Shifan.
This little breeze was like a drop in the bucket. Yan Shifan just wanted to quickly see Ding Rukui and leave.
“Ding Rukui, do you still remember me?” Yan Shifan asked.
The person on the broken mat in the cell lay motionless with his back turned. Lu Ying approached and loudly banged the iron bars with an iron rod: “Ding Rukui, get up! Minister Yan is asking you questions!”
Ding Rukui’s body suddenly shuddered, first jerking upright, then slowly turning around. As he turned, the iron chains on his ankles clanked loudly.
Ding Rukui rubbed his eyes: “You are… Young Minister Yan.”
His voice was hoarse, sounding as if processed by the roughest sandpaper.
Lu Ying said: “Don’t speak carelessly, watch your tongue. This is Vice Minister Yan.”
The death cell was too dark. Yan Shifan could hear the voice but couldn’t see the face clearly: “Come closer, walk nearer.”
Lu Ying continued banging the iron bars: “Hurry up, don’t keep Vice Minister Yan waiting too long.”
Ding Rukui got off the bed, clutching his chest, dragging the ten-pound shackles, gasping every three steps as he approached the iron door and leaned against the bars.
Now Yan Shifan could see clearly. This person was indeed the former Minister of War Ding Rukui. All death row prisoners looked the same: greasy, matted hair like dirty floor mops, protruding cheekbones, bodies covered in purple and blue bruises.
Ding Rukui looked even worse. His mouth seemed unable to close, breathing heavily through his mouth. Even from across the table, Yan Shifan could hear the bellows-like sound from his chest.
A string of clear saliva splashed onto the iron bars!
It seemed Lu Bing was right—Ding Rukui was sick, and seriously so. With breath like gossamer, he spoke unclearly like talking in dreams: “Vice Minister Yan, my son… my wife is already dead… don’t harm my son.”
Lu Ying banged the iron rod: “How dare you threaten Vice Minister Yan? Do you think you have too much life left?”
Ding Rukui suddenly reached his right hand through the bar gaps like grasping at a lifeline, stretching forward desperately. His blackened fingernails actually touched Yan Shifan’s boot tip!
Yan Shifan found this disgusting and quickly pulled back his foot, asking Lu Ying: “What illness does he have?”
Lu Ying said: “Don’t know. A bunch of death row prisoners waiting to die—we’re doing well just giving them two meals a day. When they’re sick, they endure it. If they survive, they continue eating. If not, we wrap them in broken mats, carry them out, report a death from illness, and close the case completely. Getting doctors and medicine is impossible. Look at these death row prisoners—almost all are sick. This isn’t a charity hall, and we don’t have money for medicine.”
“But…” Lu Ying held up the ram’s horn lantern for a closer look. “Judging by his breathless condition, it should be tuberculosis. Most death row prisoners die from this disease.”
Hearing “tuberculosis,” Yan Shifan couldn’t sit still any longer. He immediately stood up and fled from the underground cell.
After coming out, Lu Ying first helped Yan Shifan remove his face mask, then removed her own. At this point, several fire basins lined the path, burning atractylodes and soap pods. As Lu Ying and Yan Shifan walked through the middle, guards poured white vinegar into the burning basins. With several hissing sounds, the vinegar mixed with the atractylodes and soap pods, forming clouds of white vapor.
This was a method recorded by Song Dynasty coroner Song Ci in “Washing Away of Wrongs,” originally used to dispel bad luck after examining corpses and clean clothes and bodies. Later, people discovered this method was also effective against disease and plague.
Lu Ying and Yan Shifan seemed to ride clouds and mist through the white vapor. After emerging, even their hair carried the sour medicinal smell.
Yan Shifan returned to see his in-law. Here it was incredibly cool—truly a place for immortals, heaven compared to the earlier cell which was hell.
Yan Shifan ate a plate of pastries to calm his nerves.
Lu Bing took the opportunity to bring out Zhou Xiaoqi’s confession: “There’s something—a trivial matter not worth mentioning. Since Dong Lou is here today, I’ll mention it…”
Lu Bing showed Yan Shifan the parts marked with red ink, pretending disbelief: “This Zhou Xiaoqi is very cunning, deliberately implicating Dong Lou, thinking he’s found backing and I won’t dare touch him. Of course I won’t be fooled by him. With Dong Lou’s status, how could you possibly summon a mere minor flag officer for questioning? If Dong Lou were interested in the Chen Qianhu father-son murder case, you could ask me directly, or ask Ying’er. Why go through such roundabout ways?”
Yan Shifan chewed his pastries, his three layers of double chins rhythmically quivering. He showed no surprise at Lu Bing’s words. After swallowing and drinking half a cup of tea, he dabbed his lips with a handkerchief before saying:
“Dong Hu understands me well. Chen Qianhu and his son are just two ants. I have no time to bother with two ants’ deaths. This Zhou Xiaoqi dares implicate me—he’s tired of living. Dong Hu, just satisfy his wish.”
“Swat this jumping bug that bites everyone it catches. One slap to kill him for peace and quiet. Publicly say the bug stole the ants’ money, was exposed, got desperate, and bit the two ants to death. Case closed—just need a public explanation.”
Yan Shifan, worthy of being called a genius, always hit the mark: “No need to waste so much manpower investigating a thousand household commander’s death when the person is gone and cold. Dead is dead—the Chen family line has ended anyway, so why care so much? The Embroidered Uniform Guard handles big affairs. Originally this should have been managed by Shuntian Prefecture, but because this Zhou Xiaoqi caused trouble, fighting the North City Military Commission and Shuntian Prefecture in the streets and making a big mess, His Majesty ordered the Embroidered Uniform Guard to take over this mess.”
Yan Shifan dipped his finger in ice water and drew a circle on the table: “Simply start with him and end with him. Close the case quickly. Your precious daughter Lu Ying has grown thin investigating this case, which pains me to see. The merit gained isn’t even as great as obtaining Japanese pirate intelligence. Southern Japanese pirates and northern grassland enemies—these are the foes your Embroidered Uniform Guard should focus on. Don’t pick up sesame seeds and lose watermelons.”
Yan Shifan’s magical officialdom logic was the same in later generations: if you can’t solve the problem, solve the person who created the problem. Just need to satisfy those above.
Lu Bing nodded: “Chen Qianhu father and son and Zhou Xiaoqi all deserved to die. Dong Lou’s words have enlightened me completely.”
Yan Shifan’s trip wasn’t in vain—he got reliable news of Ding Rukui’s serious illness and incidentally crushed Zhou Xiaoqi, the randomly biting bug. From now on, no one would know he had accepted Chen Qianhu’s twenty thousand taels bribe and pinned the blame on the dead He Qianhu.
After eating and drinking his fill, Yan Shifan took his leave. Lu Bing pretended to rise to personally see off “Dong Lou” but was firmly pressed down by Dong Lou: “It’s hot and humid outside. Rest well. Having Ying’er see me off is enough. I’ll keep your heatstroke secret.”
Lu Ying escorted Yan Shifan all the way to the Shuntian Prefecture office gate before returning. Lu Bing had already written the case summary, stating that Zhou Xiaoqi and Chen Dalang were both gamblers and womanizers who conspired to embezzle silver. When they couldn’t agree on dividing the loot, Zhou Xiaoqi killed Chen Dalang. When Chen Qianhu discovered this, Zhou Xiaoqi tampered with Chen Qianhu’s horse saddle, poisoning Chen Qianhu to death.
Lu Ying refused to accept this hasty case closure: “Father, Vice Minister Yan was obviously lying just now. This case must be connected to him. He’s using someone else’s knife to kill, having you eliminate Zhou Xiaoqi to silence him, while wanting you to be grateful to him. You clearly know this—why still do as he wishes?”
“What else can I do?” Lu Bing stamped the official seal on the case file. “If we continue investigating, there are only two outcomes. First, you catch the escaped Second Miss He. Murder must be paid with life—would you enforce the law impartially and send Second Miss He, who sought revenge for her family, to the execution block?”
“I—” Lu Ying was immediately speechless.
“You can’t do it. You’d definitely let her go,” Lu Bing said. “The second outcome: you stubbornly pursue the Vice Minister Yan lead, then the Yan and Lu families become enemies. Your second sister will have no good days in the Yan family and no peace thereafter. Moreover, Vice Minister Yan will never let you find evidence against him. Even if you bash your head bloody, you’ll gain nothing, and the case will become unsolved, indefinitely shelved. Is this the result you want to see?”
“I—” Lu Ying fell silent again.
Lu Bing sighed: “This is officialdom—truth isn’t important, solving problems is important. Zhou Xiaoqi exists to solve problems. This case ends here, and only then will Second Miss He be safe. This person is most likely Doctor Wei. You didn’t find poison in her home, but she certainly understands toxic substances very well. Look how she casually picked anthurium pistils tonight and solved Ding Rukui’s problem of feigning illness. If you recruit such talent to your side, she becomes your right hand. If you insist on forcing her into opposition, she becomes a formidable enemy. Do you understand?”
Lu Ying’s eyes showed internal struggle: “I understand. I’m still too weak now and can only be forced to solve problems first. But I’ll never give up seeking the truth. If there’s an opportunity in the future, I’ll ask Vice Minister Yan clearly what transaction involved Chen Qianhu giving him twenty thousand taels. You don’t give someone that much silver for no reason. And Doctor Wei—someday, she’ll open up to me voluntarily.”
Lu Bing looked at her with an expression of ‘my daughter has finally grown up’: “You’ve really matured. Enduring a hundred trials makes steel—even the Emperor sometimes must first endure and wait for the right moment.”
The next day, the Embroidered Uniform Guard posted a notice announcing the Chen Qianhu father-son murder case was solved. The killer was their subordinate Zhou Xiaoqi, who was addicted to gambling, stole from the Chen family, and killed father and son to silence them.
Zhou Xiaoqi was sentenced to death by strangulation.
The father-son double murder that had stirred up the entire city came to an end. The weather grew increasingly hot. After several torrential rains, all the willow catkins that had been floating around the capital for over a month were finally washed away. The Dragon Boat Festival was approaching, and dragon boat training began on Beijing’s major waterways with thunderous drumbeats, preparing for the Dragon Boat Festival races.
Wang Daxia was selected for the Embroidered Uniform Guard dragon boat team, carrying his paddle out to practice every day and returning at night.
This morning, Wang Daxia was leaving the office with his paddle when he happened to encounter two soldiers escorting a tall, elegant young man who had just alighted from a horse cart.
The young man was so handsome that even Wang Daxia couldn’t help looking several times.
The soldier handed a document to the gate guard: “Tieling Branch of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, under orders from Commander Lu, bringing the exile Ding Wu to Beijing.”
Ding Wu! So it’s him! Hearing this name, Wang Daxia could no longer move his feet.
Author’s Note:
Early readers get red envelopes hahaha. This chapter gives away 100 red envelopes, first to comment, first served. Congratulations to the six main characters who run throughout the book—Wang Daxia, Wei Caiwei, Li Jiubao, Chen Jingji, Lu Ying, and Ding Wu—they’ve finally assembled. Everyone’s here, and the second act begins.