Zhong Yi had spent decades navigating the tides of officialdom and understood perfectly well that a man like Wang Yunhe would not easily do favors for anyone at a time like this. And yet the person Zheng Xi wanted freed was someone who should never have been locked up in the first place — this matter had to be resolved quickly, or it would drag into yet another protracted affair, and against both Zheng Xi and Wang Yunhe together, there was simply no chance of winning.

Zhong Yi paced anxiously in his study for several days before finally deciding to return to the capital.

It was not a matter grand enough to justify calling in old friends for their help, so he had no choice but to handle it alone.

That same day, Zhong Yi quietly slipped back into the city and turned over in his mind how best to broach the subject with Wang Yunhe.

Compared to Zhong Yi’s anxiety, Zhù Ying’s mood was relatively relaxed.

She could see how haggard Zhang Xiangu and Zhù Shenhan had become, and knew that fretting would do no good — their suffering stemmed from not knowing whether she was alive or dead, and now that they had seen her with their own eyes, their fears would ease somewhat. Jin Liang’s wife was keeping an eye on them too, so there was not much to worry about. The fact that she had managed to get word to Madam Jin — and that Madam Jin had even smuggled in a whole pot of braised pig’s trotters — proved that the Zheng household and Jin Liang had not forgotten about her.

Zhù Ying shared some of the trotters with the prison guards and the head jailer, then handed two pieces each to Old Ma and Old Mu. Old Ma ate with grease running down his chin and said, “Not bad, young one. You’ve got a way about you.”

Zhang Xiangu had packed up bedding, clothes, and the like to send in, but Zhù Ying refused every bit of it: “This place is crawling with fleas and lice — and rats on top of that. What if they chew everything to pieces? Take it all back, wash it clean, air it out until it’s soft and fresh, and I’ll wear it when I come home after a bath and a proper delousing. My shoes are pinching a bit, though — just bring me a bigger pair and that will do.”

She received the new shoes and socks, swapped them for the old ones, soaked her feet in hot water, and put on the fresh socks — and the hint of a smile appeared on her face. A young guard, affecting the airs of an old hand, shook his head and said: “Just a kid after all! Something this small, and already you’re smiling.”

The hot foot soak was a luxury in the prison, and the reason Zhù Ying had managed to secure a basin of hot water was, naturally, because the prisoner across the corridor had returned. The guard was once again running back and forth earning his little “tips,” all while chattering to his “friend” Zhù Ying.

Zhù Ying finished putting on her new shoes and socks, hopped twice on the spot, and said, “That’ll do. Here — go ahead and lock me back up.”

The guard said: “Hold on a while. Your wrists are rubbed raw already — haven’t you had enough of those things? You know your own situation. If someone comes to inspect, you can put them on yourself, can’t you?”

So Zhù Ying stood at the cell door and watched the moving-in across the way.

The “fellow student” opposite had always been like a dragon — glimpsed but never seen in full. Today Zhù Ying finally got a proper look. He was a stout man of around thirty, wearing a brocade robe with fur trim peeking out from the edges, and a hat that sat perfectly straight — the lining was probably sable. He wore a pair of white-soled court boots, the edges clean and spotless. His belt was silver, adorned with all manner of scented pouches and jade pendants.

He walked in with his hands clasped together, supported by a servant. When he clasped his hands toward the head jailer in greeting, he drew them out from his hand warmer — they were fitted with several large rings.

The whole man shone and glittered: visibly, ostentatiously wealthy.

He had already kept a few pieces of furniture in the cell opposite — a bed, table and chairs, a cabinet and the like. Now returning, he brought fresh bedding; the old bedding he’d left behind was brocaded silk that had barely been used at all — all fine goods. Once taken out, they all went home with the head jailer. One of the younger guards was a little envious and said: “I’m going to ask Old Uncle for a quilt in a bit — do you want one?”

Zhù Ying said: “There’s not even enough for your lot — how would you spare any for me?”

The guard said: “We’ll have a look. Even if there’s no quilt, whatever else is left over, we’ll grab some. When he leaves, the furniture in there gets divided up among us too. Want me to set a couple of pieces aside for you?”

Zhù Ying said: “If you’re wishing me any good at all, how is it that I’d still be in here after he gets out? I haven’t done anything wrong.”

The guard gave her a once-over and said: “True enough — but you still need a reason to get out! Him — he actually committed an offense, so whether he gets beaten or fined, there will always come a day when he walks out. But you? What about you?”

Zhù Ying ignored him, jerked her chin toward the other cell, and asked the guard: “So who exactly is this man?”

The guard said: “A rather well-known… ahem… big shot in the capital. Yu Li’an. They say he’s a dog of the Lan family — though nobody’s ever managed to catch him at it.”

“The Lan family?”

“Mm — the Inner Attendant, Lan Xing.”

This Zhù Ying did not know. She and the guard kept their voices low as they gossiped in her cell, and the guard told her about Lan Xing — the eunuch on whom the current Emperor relied most heavily — and went on to share all manner of rumors about him.

When Yu Li’an across the way had finished moving in, the guard said: “Quick — I need to lock your door back up. For the next few days, don’t come out unless it’s meal time. The higher-ups are watching closely. Don’t stir up trouble and draw attention to us again.”

Zhù Ying said: “All right.”

The guard did not even bother putting the shackles on her before stuffing Zhù Ying back into her cell and dashing off himself.

——

Zhù Ying sat in her cell, her mood darkening a little. The New Year had already come and gone; she had been sitting in this prison for over a month, Zheng Xi had not returned, and the man across the way had come back. The guard had laughed at her, saying she would get out later than that Yu Li’an opposite — and that stung.

When the evening meal was distributed to each cell, Zhù Ying was not as lively as usual. But then the whole prison had none of the festive cheer of the first month of the new year, so her quiet went largely unnoticed.

Wang Yunhe had returned, and a good half of those in the prison bearing serious charges had been brought back on his orders — small wonder no one was in a cheerful mood!

After distributing the food and rinsing out the bowls and buckets with a perfunctory swish, Zhù Ying lay down on her sleeping platform, a little bored. Over the way, the head jailer and Yu Li’an were drinking. A guard brought over a plate of sliced beef and a plate of chicken, came to Zhù Ying’s cell to chat with her, and helped himself to her snacks in the bargain.

The guard ate as he talked: “Pity we can’t have any wine. Honestly, ever since the deputy prefect ‘took charge properly,’ life’s been hard for everyone.”

Zhù Ying said: “You were sad when he was shut away doing penance, and now that he’s back, you’re still complaining.”

The guard said: “That’s different! I didn’t want him to come to grief and end up ruined — I just don’t want him making everyone’s lives miserable like this, either!”

That single remark made Zhù Ying laugh. She had only laughed once before catching herself and tactfully changing the subject: “No family visits allowed right now, are there?”

The guard said: “Missing your mum and dad?”

Zhù Ying admitted it openly.

The guard said: “Well, the magistrate has a bit of human feeling in him after all — he said that on the tenth day of the first month, family members who wish to visit may come. Daytime only, not after dark, to prevent trouble at night. And no passing of goods — everything will be inspected.”

Zhù Ying smiled and said: “That’s good. Would you do me a favor and get word to them?”

The guard said: “Hmph! Other people would have to pay me for this kind of errand. You, though… forget it. Those trotters last time were pretty good — just have some more sent along.”

Zhù Ying said: “I can’t promise that for certain — they weren’t made by my family, so I’d have to ask someone else. But it shouldn’t be a problem. If you really want to eat well, just burn incense every day and pray for me to get out — once I’m out, I’ll get you the recipe.”

“Pfft! I’m not about to cook for myself.”

The two of them traded barbs for a while, and by then the drinking party across the way had more or less wound down. Zhù Ying quickly helped the guard tidy up the bowls and wine: “Take it all — don’t leave anything behind.” Then she put the shackles on herself, without any help from the guard at all.

The guard said: “Your mum says not to kick off your covers at night. Oh, wait — hold on.” He went out and came back dragging another quilt: “Better this goes to you than to those lot.” And he draped it over her.

With that quilt, Zhù Ying’s bedding in her solitary cell was thicker than anything she had ever slept under back home when they were doing their spirit-calling rites. Except for being a little dirty, there was really nothing wrong with it.

The guard and the head jailer had less time to come and chat with Zhù Ying. The guard would drop by occasionally and say: “No rest even in the middle of the New Year — they say he’s been going through case files. More arrests on the way. The constables — hah! Even worse off than me!”

Zhù Ying thought: Serves them right.

The new prefect was far more industrious than his predecessor. Watching him toil away through the first month, Zhù Ying suspected his earlier “illness from exhaustion” had perhaps been feigned. Only the people below him suffered — the guard, for instance, was forever having to haul someone before the magistrate for a hearing.

The inmates had no wish to be called up for a hearing during the new year period either. Those with minor grievances were better off — if released during the first month, at least there was a family reunion to look forward to. But those with actual charges against them, once a hearing was concluded and the verdict handed down, would be stripped of their clothing and thrown out into the snow-covered roads in the dead of winter to begin their exile — that was a sentence as good as death.

Zhù Ying had no charges against her name, so she had no fear of being exiled into the bitter cold of early spring. She kept her mind fixed on the fifteenth of the first month, when Zhang Xiangu and Zhù Shenhan would come to see her. She had already received word that Zheng Xi could not return immediately, but since contact had been established, she was not anxious. Madam Jin had said that Zheng Xi had arranged for her release; Zhù Ying did not burn with impatience over it — with Zheng Xi away from the capital, any matter entrusted to someone else would inevitably proceed at a diminished pace.

On the fifteenth of the first month, Zhù Ying rose early, made herself as presentable as she could, and tidied the cell. When the morning ration was distributed, she was attentive as always — she even waited for an inmate who had been beaten at yesterday’s hearing to drag himself to the cell door, and ladled a bowl of congee out for him.

She rinsed the bowls and scrubbed the bucket thoroughly, going over it an extra time.

Then she settled down calmly to wait for the head jailer to call her out to see her parents.

Visiting hours sometimes meant family members coming inside the prison; other times, the inmate was called out to see their relatives. Last time, Zhù Ying had been brought to the duty room to meet her parents, so as to prevent the other inmates from seeing that the jailers had passed a message along to her.

This time too, Zhù Ying was called to the duty room.

The easy mood she’d carried in with her evaporated the moment she stepped through the door: “Sister-in-law?”

The visitor was not Zhang Xiangu, nor was it Zhù Shenhan — it was Madam Jin.

Madam Jin was clutching a handkerchief, and at the sight of Zhù Ying she burst into tears first: “Oh, I’m so ashamed to face you!”

“What — what’s happened?” Zhù Ying stepped forward quickly and took hold of Madam Jin’s arm to steady her.

Madam Jin said: “I don’t quite know how to say this, but… your mother and father were beaten up by your in-laws’ family.”

“What?”

——

Now, after Zhang Xiangu and Zhù Shenhan had seen their daughter during that prison visit, they had felt a little more grounded. Once they got word to Madam Jin, they felt there was something to hope for. But at the same time a different sort of anxiety had taken hold — now that they knew where she was, and since she hadn’t done anything wrong, when would she be able to come home?

Any parent worth the name could not stop worrying about their own flesh and blood. They had no connections and no money, and could only wait in anguish — every day crawling by, fraying their nerves — yet they dared not press Madam Jin. They stopped by the Jin household every other day, terrified of wearing out their welcome. During the first few days of the new year they didn’t dare call on anyone, for fear of being seen as a bad omen.

After the seventh day had passed, they steeled themselves and bought four boxes of gifts to bring to the Jin household.

After presenting the gifts and leaving the Jin house, by sheer coincidence, as they stepped aside to let a distinguished personage pass, Zhang Xiangu — with her sharp eyes — caught sight of Shen Ying riding on a tall horse.

Zhang Xiangu was, above all else, a mother. She was terrified that her daughter — her daughter — was alone in that prison with something going wrong. The whole jail probably didn’t have a single creature of the female sex, not even a female flea. How could she not worry? Every day her daughter came home earlier was a day safer — and “safer” carried a few extra layers of meaning.

Even if it was only Shen Ying, she had to try.

She told Zhù Shenhan, who hesitated for a moment, then said: “Nothing ventured, nothing gained. We go early, bow as many times as we have to — it costs us nothing.”

They followed Shen Ying all the way to the Shen residence and memorized the address. They figured that since they had found Shen Ying, they shared at least some prior connection — all that mattered now was getting their daughter out first, and then figuring the rest out.

This was where this couple’s naïveté showed itself. Shen Ying was not among the first-rank figures in the capital right now, but his door was still not one that these two could simply walk through on a whim.

Though the two of them had tidied themselves up somewhat since learning their daughter was all right, standing before the gates of the Shen residence they still looked like poor folk. They were also out-of-towners, and the thick provincial accent that colored their Mandarin was immediately apparent — the doormen wrinkled their noses the moment they heard it.

The circumstances of the Shen and Feng families were different from other powerful households: they had only recently returned to the capital. After that great case of years past, both families had been scattered — relatives and kinsmen dispersed, many fallen into poverty — and all of them were now looking to Shen Ying for support. There had also been impostors turning up, or people stretching their connections paper-thin to beg for relief. Had the Shen siblings not hardened their hearts, the estate newly restored to them would long since have been picked clean by distant relatives appearing out of nowhere.

Now here were two shabby out-of-towners with thick accents, misery written across their faces — coming to claim they were relatives? The son-in-law’s parents, no less, of Shen Ying’s niece?

The doormen exploded on the spot: “Where have you beggars crawled from? How dare you come to our door making things up and trying to extort people?”

Beggars, so be it — as long as their daughter got out of prison sooner. They had been insulted plenty of times before, hadn’t they? This pair of spirit-callers was unperturbed, and pressed forward again: “It’s true, we’re who said — it’s the young lady from the Feng family who used to…”

The doormen’s eyebrows shot up: “You old dog! You dare slander our young mistress’s reputation?!”

They rounded on the two with clubs and drove them from the door, chasing them all the way to the end of the alley. Both took a good beating; their faces were bruised and cut. Zhù Shenhan shielded his wife and took the brunt of it — one blow landed square on his leg, and afterward he walked with a pronounced limp.

The two fled out of the alley, covering their faces, and made their way home. Zhang Xiangu had no energy to cry; she just said: “Well — we’ll just have to wait.”

Zhù Shenhan said: “I said we should wait from the start!”

“Then why did you come with me!”

“Because I was worried about you, that’s why!”

The two snapped at each other for a moment, and then Zhang Xiangu said with a sigh: “But if just the doorstep of a deputy was enough to get us beaten like this, what must our little one be going through in that prison? We can at least run — but where can she run to?”

Zhù Shenhan was in a foul mood: “Why is Lord Zheng so useless?”

Zheng Xi was not useless — he had made arrangements with meticulous care. Short of it being his own son who had been arrested, anyone else who found themselves in such a situation and came to him for help would receive exactly this kind of treatment: resolve the matter without causing a stir, leave no complications in its wake — perfectly sound and cautious.

The useless one was Zhong Yi — Zheng Xi had somewhat overestimated him. He had written a letter to summon Zhong Yi back to the capital, but Zhong Yi could not find a way through Wang Yunhe. Once Wang Yunhe took charge of the prefecture, no amount of pleading from anyone would move him. He had not personally inspected the prison, but the previous cases had revealed that clerks and runners had been taking advantage of the situation and manipulating it to their own ends, so he had issued a standing order: all the gates of the prefecture were to be locked; no one was to act on personal connections; any violation discovered would be met with the severest punishment.

Throughout the entire first month, not one petition presented to him made any difference. Wang Yunhe was well aware that during his period of enforced reflection, many people had seized on the Empress Dowager’s complaint to speak ill of him. If he were to be kept in check now, he would be an ordinary official for the rest of his days — and that was not his ambition.

Zhong Yi, moreover, was a man who had left his post and stepped aside. Meeting Wang Yunhe for a cup of tea was fine; making a request — Wang Yunhe clapped his hands over his ears before Zhong Yi had finished the opening line. Zhong Yi had no choice but to give up.

He had intended to smooth the matter over first and then haul Zhou You in for a dressing-down. Now he had no choice but to ask Zhou You first what “fine thing” he had actually done. Zhou You, greatly pleased to see his Uncle Zhong during the New Year, had his smile wiped right off his face when Zhong Yi demanded: “What have you done?!” He was entirely baffled: “What? I’ve been home studying, haven’t I?” He had been promised an official post, but the Emperor, feeling he had not acquitted himself well on the trip with Zhong Yi, had told him to study further.

Zhong Yi said: “Why did Zheng the Seventh send me a letter?”

Zhou You could not make the connection.

Zhong Yi had to prompt him: “How did you manage to get someone of his into the prefecture jail?”

At that, Zhou You remembered — and broke into a satisfied, foolish grin. Zhong Yi raised his hand and slapped that grin off his face: “What were you thinking? Now the person is in Wang Yunhe’s hands!”

“Hah? Well, serves him right to suffer a little!”

Zhong Yi felt a throb of pain in his temples: “What law did he break, that Wang Yunhe would deal with him?”

Indeed — he had broken no law. He had been thrown in there by the lot of them.

Zhou You said in a small voice: “It… it’s not that serious, is it?”

And truly, it had not been so serious before. People used to get grabbed off the street perfectly innocently, tossed in the holding room for a couple of days, shaken down for money, and let go. Now the situation was that an error had been made — release him, restore his innocence, and be done with it. Being released from prison should be reason enough to thank heaven — one could hardly go around demanding answers after the fact.

The head jailer was also worried about a future audit of his accounts; he had no intention of taking responsibility on the clerk’s behalf.

In the old days, they would simply lie — say the prisoner had escaped, or died, or come clean and admit they had arrested the wrong person. Once everything had been clarified and the person’s innocence established, they would be released and the matter would be closed. At worst the clerk would endure a flogging and take responsibility on behalf of the young master, in hopes of future patronage.

The new prefect was not so easily fooled. Who was to say a flogging from him wouldn’t kill them outright? And then what — ask the young master to burn a couple of paper offerings on their behalf?

The clerk kept waving his hands: “I’d advise the young master that if you want to release someone, this is the worst possible time to try. A new official always comes in burning with energy — and he’s been holding his fire, looking for somewhere to direct it. For anything else, you’d need evidence. But this — an innocent person thrown into prison without cause — he’ll have plenty to say about that. Don’t go and let him use you to establish his authority.”

The two young wastrels were at a loss. Zhou You had no choice but to go back and ask Zhong Yi for another plan.

Zhong Yi said: “You came back just like that?! What happened to the nerve you usually show? Do I have to spell this out for you? Make the clerk own this — even if he loses his position, can’t you find him somewhere else to land on his feet? Do I have to teach you that too? No matter what, we must get this Zhù Ying out as soon as possible! Zheng the Seventh is about to return — are you going to make him go to the prefecture in person to retrieve his man and expose every one of you?”

Zhou You learned from this lesson, and went back along with his friend, young Master Shi, to pressure the clerk.

It was right at this moment that the prison guard carried word to the Zhù household, telling them that visits would be permitted.

——

Being able to visit — that was certainly good news.

Zhang Xiangu and Zhù Shenhan looked at each other; neither dared go to see their daughter with battered faces. They asked Madam Jin to visit in their place, and the guard agreed to their request that he not mention any of this to Zhù Ying.

What no one had anticipated was that Madam Jin was a woman of her own mind. Though she had not seen Zhù Ying many times, her impressions were sharper than most; she felt Zhù Ying was a person who knew her own situation well. This was a rare visiting opportunity, and not a single parent had shown up — leaving an outsider like herself to come instead? Wouldn’t Zhù Ying find that suspicious? Hiding it from Zhù Ying might earn resentment later. Better to be honest.

The moment she saw Zhù Ying, she told her everything. The guard, sensing disaster, coughed and disappeared, leaving Madam Jin to say to Zhù Ying: “Lord Shen’s household is really too ruthless. Did you offend your mother-in-law somehow? I always say — your brother-in-law Jin Liang is a man without a clue. He’s always saying, ‘Sanlang has a good eye, knows whose banner is worth following.’ Of course we’re delighted you’re following Lord Zheng — but you still can’t let your in-laws feel completely neglected. You have to keep them on your side. These people — they may not have the ability to help you rise, but their ability to make you fall? Oh, that is considerable.”

Zhù Ying asked: “Sister-in-law, how badly are my parents hurt?”

Madam Jin said: “Would I let them be hurt any worse? My family may not be able to claim much, but we’ve had ancestral remedies for bruises and sprains for generations — I’ve already given some to your parents.” She went on to complain about Jin Liang’s carelessness — and hadn’t Lord Zheng’s letter already come back?

She also brought in a good deal of food for Zhù Ying and said: “Don’t worry — your parents are in my care.”

“Words cannot repay such kindness.”

“We’re our own people — what is there to thank? Your brother Jin Liang isn’t in the city, and I have nothing else to occupy me. But Sanlang — don’t rush, and don’t blame them for being slow, all right…”

Zhù Ying smiled: “Actually, I’d like to ask a favor of you.”

“Go ahead.”

“Would you lend us one of your rooms? Have my parents moved there to recover. If they stay on their own, I’m afraid they won’t want to spend money on doctors and proper meals.”

Madam Jin readily agreed: “Of course. I’ve been meaning to bring them over, actually — that way I can keep an eye on them and stop them from running off in a panic and getting hurt again. With you asking me like this, I can invite them over with a clear conscience.”

“Don’t mind the trouble we’re giving you — it’ll only be this one stretch.”

Madam Jin said with mock annoyance: “Say anything more like that and I’ll wash my hands of you all!”

Zhù Ying smiled. Madam Jin said: “All right, I’m off — I’ll go and press them on your behalf again.”

“No need. Lord Zheng has proper matters to attend to. Who am I in the grand scheme of things? It wouldn’t do to keep pressing him to take care of me on top of everything else. Just watch over my parents — and tell them not to go rushing around.”

“Agreed!” Madam Jin, seeing she was neither crying nor making a fuss, felt heartened. “I’ll have things sorted out at home waiting for your return! Who knows — perhaps we’ll be waiting for your brother Jin Liang to come back to the capital together!”

——

The moment Madam Jin left, the guard came shuffling in, rubbing his nose: “Ah, look, about that…”

Zhù Ying rolled her eyes. “Enough of that act. You’re several years older than me — haven’t you grown out of this? I don’t blame you for keeping it from me. I know well enough that even if I’d found out while I was in here, all I could have done was fret and make myself ill.”

If nothing had happened, the guard might have teased Zhù Ying about having a wife at such a young age — but now was not the time. He followed her lead: “Exactly! Come on then, let’s go. It’s the Lantern Festival tonight — I’ll bring you a little lantern later, to mark the occasion.”

“That sounds good.”

“All right, go on back and wait for me.”

Zhù Ying returned to her cell, and the guard went off to arrange the next family visit.

The door clanged shut. Zhù Ying listened to the footsteps fade away outside, and let out a cold, quiet laugh.

My parents have been beaten and I can do nothing from in here — but what if I were out?

She could not stay in here any longer.

Zhù Ying opened the shackles herself and lifted the lid of the bamboo basket Madam Jin had sent. Inside, alongside the trotters, were rice cakes and the like. She broke off pieces of rice cake, pulled out two bamboo slats from the bedframe, and fashioned a simple mousetrap — and caught a few of the prison’s local residents: rats.

During the evening meal distribution, she tore off two strips of cloth from the basket lining, soaked them in lamp oil, and slipped them into her pocket. The guard was as good as his word and brought her a small decorative lantern, then dashed off to watch the festival crowds in the streets. Zhù Ying lit the lantern, waited for full darkness, and when she heard snoring coming from the cell across the way, she took out a rat, bound a strip of cloth to its tail, held it over the lantern flame to set the cloth alight, and flung the rat through the window and into the cell across from hers.

She had taken a quick look at how that cell was furnished: there were bed curtains and drapes, the sleeping platform was heaped with brocaded quilts, the chairs all had padded warming covers. Inside there were candles and charcoal braziers.

She threw one rat after another over. Each rat went scurrying, and brighter flames leaped up from across the way. At first there was no sound — but just as Zhù Ying was about to fling the last of her rats, a panicked cry broke from across the corridor: “Fire! Someone come! FIRE!”

The glow opposite grew and grew — clearly the blaze was not small. Listening to the commotion, Zhù Ying dismantled the rat-catching bamboo slats and reassembled them on the sleeping platform, then picked up her shackles.

The head jailer came charging over with a bellow: “Everyone stay put! Not a move!” He flung open Zhù Ying’s cell door and said: “You, boy — I trust you. Keep watch for me. Don’t let any of them take advantage of the chaos to escape!”

Zhù Ying said: “Uncle, don’t panic — the fire doesn’t seem to have spread anywhere else. This isn’t a big catastrophe. And don’t shout so loud — the more noise you make, the more everyone panics.”

The head jailer nodded seriously: “Watch them for me — I’ll take the men to fight the fire!” And he ran off, banging a gong and calling for people to fetch water.

Zhù Ying genuinely went out to chat with Old Ma and Old Mu: “Everyone stop yelling! It’s the fifteenth — the rich man across the way is setting off lanterns. We’ll just sit here and enjoy the view.”

Old Ma laughed: “How come you’re not over there watching, then? Your cell is right next to theirs!”

Zhù Ying said: “I like watching the scenery — but when there’s a fat, pampered figure in the middle of it, it spoils the view. So I’d rather not.”

Old Ma and Old Mu both slapped the wooden bars laughing. Old Ma said: “Go on back to your cell, young one. If they see a prisoner wandering around out here, they’ll think you’re escaping and give you a beating for nothing.”

Zhù Ying smiled: “Fair enough.”

She had just stepped back into her own cell when the firefighting crew came barreling in with their water buckets! The cell opposite was already half ablaze. When the door was thrown open, Yu Li’an stumbled out, his face black with soot — the outer robe he had taken off to sleep in had been burned to nothing, his clothes were scorched and ruined, and half his hair had curled and singed.

Zhù Ying even managed to add: “Uncle, put his shackles back on him! Don’t let it come out that you were letting him walk around without them…”

The head jailer hurried to clap the shackles back on Yu Li’an. Then he looked at Zhù Ying, who stretched out both arms to show him clearly that the iron chain was still in place between her wrists. The head jailer said: “Good… good…”

Zhù Ying said: “Not so good, actually. One look at that room and even an idiot can see he’s been living far too well in here.”

The remark reminded the head jailer all at once — he immediately started directing people to move the furniture out of Yu Li’an’s cell. Unfortunately, this was the Lantern Festival; everyone who could take a holiday had taken one. The head jailer was on duty himself, as a consideration to his younger subordinates — letting them go enjoy themselves while he kept watch. The staff remaining at the prefecture office were few, and while they might help fight a fire, they were considerably less willing to haul furniture.

While the head jailer was rounding up people to help — and half of them had already scattered — the ringing of the gong drew the very prefect himself to the scene.

——

Wang Yunhe had only recently become the prefect of the capital. He was planning to move his whole household into the prefecture’s rear residence once the first month was over; in the meantime he had brought his bedding and belongings in early and brought two servants with him, and had begun working in the office right from the beginning of the month.

There was a perfectly simple reason: the prefecture was close to the Imperial Palace. With court sessions every five days, he no longer had to rise as early as he used to — the extra sleep he could get before each court appearance was genuinely wonderful.

Wang Yunhe had no wish to stir up trouble in the middle of the New Year, and had enough human feeling and enough respect for custom not to do so. During these days he had been going through the prefecture’s archived records and case files — and not just the criminal cases, but all manner of documents: population registers, land surveys, and the like. Some of these were things that even a deputy prefect would not have had access to; he was using this time to catch himself up. His hearings these past two days had been incidental — or recalled only when something came to mind — and had actually progressed more slowly than when he had been deputy. Furthermore, the case files already before him could not be worked through fast enough, let alone the jail — there had been no reason for him to give it any attention.

This fire, then, sent the prison right to Wang Yunhe’s doorstep — and sent Wang Yunhe right to Zhù Ying’s.

Wang Yunhe was a man of about forty — by no means a handsome man, merely decent-looking, with a beard sprinkled with streaks of silver. His build was ordinary too: not bloated, not gaunt, just the ordinary, slightly spreading middle-age of a man who was not particularly fat.

He first surveyed the scene of the fire, and at the sight of all the furniture, a fire of his own ignited in his chest. To say nothing of the capital’s prison — even in his own bedroom, Wang Yunhe kept everything simple: nothing close to this abundance of furnishings! There were two seven-branched lamp stands, two large charcoal braziers, two small ones, a folding screen at the foot of the bed — and looking at the half-burnt quilt on the sleeping platform, he saw it was silk. The bed curtains had burned away, but the elaborate bed frame still stood. By the bedside lay a blackened hand warmer and a foot warmer.

Wang Yunhe erupted in fury: “You scoundrel! You get yourself thrown into my prison and have the audacity to set yourself up in comfort?! If this prison cannot cow hardened criminals, what use is it?!”

He had Yu Li’an dragged out then and there and given forty strokes, charging him with setting fire to the prison cell.

Yu Li’an could say nothing in his defense. He himself had suspected that one of his own candles or charcoal braziers might have ignited something — and now he had a beating to show for it.

Over on the other side, the head jailer was also terrified. But Wang Yunhe was not going to settle accounts with him just yet — he wheeled around and went to inspect Zhù Ying’s cell. He was first startled by her youth and her height, and then he looked around her cell: aside from being somewhat cleaner, it looked exactly as he imagined a prison cell ought to.

Seeing that Zhù Ying had received no particular privileges, his expression eased a little. He asked: “How old are you? How could you have committed a serious offense to be held here? I don’t recall you as a prisoner at all.” This person hadn’t been brought in by him, nor had any description of a prisoner of this age appeared in any of the case files he had reviewed — and yet there was a solitary cell for a single individual. Wang Yunhe’s instincts prompted him to ask one more question.

Zhù Ying dropped to her knees: “In reply to Your Honor — I don’t know what crime I committed. They took me from my home, first held me in the Wannian County holding room, and then transferred me here. They never told me what offense I had committed, never told me when I would be sentenced, and never told me when I would be released.”

Wang Yunhe was furious: “What is the meaning of this?!”

There was, of course, no case file — because Zhù Ying had not been arrested for any offense. Wang Yunhe turned to the head jailer: “How do you explain this?”

The head jailer had no intention of shielding anyone any longer. He knelt and said: “A colleague brought her in, along with those who had been fighting near Wannian County. He gave no reason for what offense she had committed. Your Honor knows how it is — I only manage affairs inside the prison. If someone brings a person to me, I take them in and keep them properly confined.”

He thought to himself: This young one is lucky — and sharp. Managed to hold on until His Lordship came. Though once out, the young master will likely come after them again — and they won’t have luck like this a second time.

Wang Yunhe pressed further, tracing the chain back to the runner who had made the arrest — a man called “Yin Er” — and then to the clerk. The clerk’s face was the picture of guilt, and Wang Yunhe showed him no mercy: “A petty little clerk — daring to abuse the public authority for private ends! Beat him!”

The inmates in the prison were delighted. When had they ever been treated to such a spectacle? Usually, prisoners were taken from their cells to a hearing, and they only learned of each other’s affairs through the grape vine. To witness the prefect himself beating someone in person — that was a rare sight indeed!

First: twenty strokes. The clerk would not speak; the beating continued. Unable to withstand the punishment, he gave up young Master Shi. A buzz of conversation broke out among the inmates. Old Ma and Old Mu even whispered to each other: “No wonder Sanlang’s so nimble about all this — the people who stirred up trouble for her come from a higher station than any of us ever dealt with.”

Upon hearing this, Wang Yunhe had a good idea of the full picture. He said: “Take them into custody!” He had the clerk stamp his confession with a print. By the time he looked up, dawn was already breaking. He ordered Zhù Ying to be moved to the rear residence for safekeeping, separated from the other inmates. He himself put the confession in his sleeve and went to the Ministry of Justice to find his former superior.

Minister Shi had only just taken charge of the Ministry of Justice and was already buried in difficulties. When his former subordinate walked in, he returned the greeting with conspicuous lack of enthusiasm. When he heard the purpose of the visit, his expression changed: “There must be a misunderstanding.”

Wang Yunhe said: “Your Honor, if it was a misunderstanding, I will report the matter to His Majesty and await the Imperial decision.”

“Wait! Wait!” Minister Shi knew perfectly well what his son was capable of, and said hastily: “I’ll question him myself! Right now! He may well be unworthy — but he and that provincial youth have no old grievances and no new enmity; he wouldn’t have done this for no reason.”

Wang Yunhe thought to himself: Knowing your son, no outrage he might commit would be surprising.

But he still gave his former superior a measure of face, and accompanied the minister home to see how this father and son would play it out. When they arrived at the Shi household, young Master Shi was not yet out of bed. Minister Shi looked at Wang Yunhe and said shamefacedly: “Forgive me.”

Wang Yunhe said: “Young men do love their sleep.”

Minister Shi could not wait — he sent someone to drag his son out of bed, then went himself, drew back his arm and slapped the young man clean off the sleeping platform: “Wretch! What have you done this time?!”

Young Master Shi had been sleeping in a sprawl of all four limbs, and his mind was completely blank as he tumbled off: “Huh?”

Minister Shi commanded the servants: “Sluice him awake!”

Half a basin of cold water was thrown over young Master Shi. He shuddered and was about to explode in fury, but looked up to see his father — and swallowed his curses. He scrambled up: “Father?!”

Without ceremony, Minister Shi had the servants hold him and demanded: “Do you know of a person who was thrown into the prison?”

Young Master Shi had let the matter drift from his mind but now it came back in a rush, and he blurted it out: “Zhou You put me up to it! That fellow is one of Zheng the Seventh’s people, Father, you know how it is — Zhou You can’t stand the sight of Zheng the Seventh! He said…”

Minister Shi kicked his son flat on his back, then turned to Wang Yunhe: “I am deeply ashamed.”

Wang Yunhe said: “Your Honor, I know what I know, and it would be a betrayal of Imperial trust not to report it. I am informing you first as a matter of courtesy, since you were formerly my superior. Please think carefully about how you will answer to His Majesty — for answer him I must.”

Minister Shi understood: Wang Yunhe had been elevated to his current post precisely because of his rectitude, and there was no ordinary means to make him abandon that principle. He said: “Very well.” As for how to answer? He would frame things in a way that cast Zhou You in a suitably vague light. His son was foolish — hence easily manipulated. Zhou You was at fault, yes; but the root cause was not with him! As for the clerk — that was a matter of undisciplined underlings eager to curry favor, and it was such sycophants who ruined perfectly good young men.

Wang Yunhe said: “I will also need young Master Shi to write a statement and affix his seal, so I can close the case and release the person being held.”

Young Master Shi was only too eager for this business to be finished, and said at once: “Yes, yes, of course! I’ll write it!” — which earned him a remembered note of displeasure from Minister Shi, who, the moment Wang Yunhe was out the door, set about beating his son again. But that is another story.

Wang Yunhe took young Master Shi’s written statement and went before the Emperor to report. The Emperor heard him out with a cold expression, then ordered Zhou You to be summoned.

When Zhou You received the summons he was still feeling slightly relieved — at least Uncle Zhong wouldn’t lecture him anymore. But when he stood before the Emperor and saw his friend Master Shi’s hand-written confession, all relief evaporated. The Emperor’s face was not pleasant, and Zhou You said: “I didn’t order it — he said himself that he wanted to teach that fellow a lesson…”

Wang Yunhe thought to himself: Case solved — these two cooked it up between them! He added no fuel to the fire, and said to the Emperor: “In that case, Your Majesty, I will return and release the innocent party. As for these matters…”

The Emperor said: “You have my full authority to proceed!”

With that, Wang Yunhe took young Master Shi’s written statement back to the prefecture. On the sixteenth day of the first month, after fifty days behind bars, Zhù Ying shed the prison-issued outer robe, picked up the bundle Madam Jin had sent for food, and stood outside the gates of the prefecture.

The sunlight was magnificent over the teeming streets of the capital.