Seeing this scene, Xie Daozhi understood everything.
“Everyone else get out.”
“Yes!”
Everyone fled from the courtyard. They hadn’t gone far when they heard an angry roar from the courtyard—
“Speak!”
“This humble one… this humble one…”
Old Wang’s body shook like a sieve. “This humble one has seen that father and son.”
Xie Daozhi collapsed into his chair like an eggplant beaten by frost.
Yan Sanhe glanced at Xie Daozhi, walked before Old Wang, and crouched down.
“Tell me everything about what happened, and perhaps I can plead for mercy on your behalf. Otherwise, at your age, if you’re driven out with nowhere to go, it will be very miserable.”
Old Wang looked at the face before him and wiped away old tears.
“They came to the gate at dusk. That child’s face was wax-yellow—you could tell at a glance he was ill. That man looked younger than in the portrait, and his clothes were very strange.”
“And then?”
“They had a letter in their hands, saying they… they were looking for the Master. I… I…”
Old Wang looked at Xie Daozhi with terrified caution. “I didn’t dare let them through the gate!”
So that’s how it was!
Yan Sanhe stood up, looking coldly at Xie Daozhi: “What do you have to say now?”
Xie Daozhi’s face was deathly pale, his chest heaving. He suddenly rushed over and delivered a kick.
“You didn’t even report it, just shut people outside the gate—who gave you such audacity? My lifetime of wisdom, all ruined by you!”
Old Wang was kicked directly to the ground, howling twice before crying out: “Master has forgotten—it was you who instructed me not to open the gate!”
“What did you say?”
Xie Daozhi’s eyes nearly split with rage as he grabbed the man’s collar. “Say it again! Say it again, damn you!”
“July sixteenth.”
Old Wang’s cloudy eyes suddenly widened. “Master, it was July sixteenth of Yonghe Year Eight! How could I dare open the gate? How could I dare!”
“…”
Xie Daozhi’s breathing suddenly became rapid, his eyeballs nearly bulging from their sockets.
July sixteenth!
It was actually July sixteenth!
No wonder he was thrown into prison by the patrol officers.
Xie Daozhi wearily released his grip and staggered backward several steps, aging several years in an instant.
Yan Sanhe’s eyes turned cold. “What happened on July sixteenth of Yonghe Year Eight?”
“Oh my, my dear lady!”
Steward Xie’s face filled with terror. “Please don’t ask about this.”
“Why can’t I ask?”
Yan Sanhe stared him down. “What guilty secret does the Xie household have that can’t be questioned?”
“You…”
Steward Xie felt he was being driven mad. He turned his head, seeking his anchor: “Master, what do you think…”
Xie Daozhi’s gaze moved past him, staring fixedly at Yan Sanhe for a long while.
“Steward Xie.”
“Master?”
“Take Old Wang away. You personally guard the courtyard gate—don’t let anyone approach.”
“Yes!”
Once the door closed, the courtyard became empty.
Xie Daozhi took a deep breath. “Yan Sanhe, this matter was truly a tragic coincidence!”
“What kind of tragic coincidence?”
“On the Ghost Festival of Yonghe Year Eight, a shocking case occurred in the capital’s Four Lanes District. The residence of former Imperial Guard General Zheng Yu was slaughtered overnight.”
Xie Daozhi’s tone was heavy: “Aside from the old general who was on campaign and his four personal guards, the remaining one hundred and eighty people of the Zheng household all died horribly.”
Yan Sanhe’s brow twitched sharply.
“This case alarmed the court. The Son of Heaven was thunderously enraged and ordered the Embroidered Uniform Guard, Ministry of Justice, Court of Judicial Review, and Censorate—all four departments working together to investigate thoroughly. For a time, the capital was filled with tension and everyone lived in fear.”
Xie Daozhi’s eyes flickered.
“As a key minister of the Inner Cabinet, I was summoned into the palace by His Majesty. Before leaving, I instructed my wife and Steward Xie to close all four gates—no one was permitted to leave, no one was permitted to enter. Everything would wait until I returned from the palace.”
“Why?”
Yan Sanhe’s voice was ice-cold.