Chapter 65 The Second Son’s Confession

Chapter 65: The Second Young Master's Confession

Things moved swiftly. The very next day, word arrived from Feng Qing: numerous government officials had come and taken Zhang Jiao away.

Two days later, Feng Qing uncovered more specific details. Jiang Maocai had been summoned for questioning but was released without incident. It was said that Zhang Yufu, a shrewd man, had likely pieced together that the two had conspired. Recalling past events, and the fact that these two, though from the same village, had falsely claimed to be brothers, he probably had an eighty to ninety percent accurate grasp of their true relationship and intentions.

Having spent his life catching sparrows, he had nearly had his eye pecked out by one. Though furious, he lacked concrete evidence to incriminate Jiang Maocai, leaving him seething with frustration.

However, Zhang Yufu was not one to be trifled with. Feng Qing mentioned that Zhang Yufu had recently met with several notorious local ruffians, implying that Jiang Maocai's days would not be easy.

Indeed, events unfolded precisely as the Second Young Master had predicted. With a reliable ally to share the burden, Jian Ru felt significantly more at ease. His anxiety subsided, and he calmly awaited further developments.

...

Emerging from a small tavern by the street, a drunken Jiang Maocai exchanged bows with a disheveled middle-aged man, bidding farewell with ingratiating smiles.

Watching the man sway unsteadily into the distance, a large package in hand and humming a tune, Jiang Maocai's smile vanished, replaced by a deep frown.

Over the past few days, he had exhausted every avenue, leveraging every connection he could find, to pull strings at the yamen. Being literate, he had once served as a junior manager at the town's largest pastry shop, where he had maintained a good relationship with the owner, who possessed some higher-level connections.

Through this connection, Jiang Maocai had also interacted with several wealthy families in town.

Yet now, when he sought their help, he couldn't even get past the servants or gatekeepers to see the masters.

The smiles those people had once offered led Jiang Maocai to believe he had earned their respect through his own capabilities. Only now did he realize it was merely a courtesy extended to his former employer.

After all his efforts, the only person he managed to befriend was the jailer he had just shared a drink with. Though merely a low-ranking subordinate, the man still acted arrogantly in Jiang Maocai's presence.

Jiang Maocai inwardly disdained him but had no choice but to humor him with a forced smile.

He relied on this man to deliver items to Zhang Jiao.

He had just given the jailer a large package of food, knowing that perhaps only a tenth or a fifth of it would actually reach Zhang Jiao. But even that was enough.

As long as Zhang Jiao received the food, he would know Jiang Maocai was still working on his behalf from the outside and wouldn't betray him.

Zhang Jiao had been ill before his imprisonment, and Jiang Maocai had initially intended to bring him some prepared pills. However, the jailer had stated that nothing but food and clothing was allowed, so he had to abandon the idea.

At this thought, Jiang Maocai's eyes reddened slightly.

He wasn't born with a predatory nature. If not driven to utter desperation, why would he have sacrificed his lover in a reckless gamble for wealth?

He was in no way inferior to the idle young masters of wealthy families in town—his only disadvantage was his humble origins. He simply couldn't accept it.

Thinking of his family in the village, Jiang Maocai stood under the moonlight, unsure where to go. He dared not return to the village, lest his creditors come knocking and his parents erupt in tears and accusations.

He also feared that if word spread of Zhang Jiao still being alive, the village head would come to question him.

He had little money left, and it needed to be conserved for more critical uses, so an inn was out of the question.

After some thought, Jiang Maocai decided to find a secluded alley corner to spend the night.

No sooner had he stepped into a dark alley than he heard hurried footsteps behind him. Turning in surprise, he saw four or five men approaching quickly. The burly man leading them asked in a low voice, "Are you Jiang Maocai?"

Sensing trouble, Jiang Maocai tried to flee, but he was already trapped in the alley with no escape.

The men rained blows down on him.

Though born into poverty, Jiang Maocai had never suffered such brutality. He cried out in agony, shouting for help, but his mouth was quickly covered, muffling any sound. It was late, and no one passed by.

When the thugs finally released him and hurried away, Jiang Maocai was in such pain his vision blurred. He felt warmth under his nose and tremblingly reached up to touch it. In the moonlight, he saw bright red blood on his hand. Looking down at his torn clothes and the bloodstains, he sat dazed for a long time, his ears ringing.

"This won't do, this won't do…" Jiang Maocai muttered repeatedly. Struggling to his feet, he fumbled for his money bag hidden in his belt. Finally, gritting his teeth, his eyes bloodshot, he made a decision.

He straightened his clothes as best he could to make himself somewhat presentable, then clutched the money bag and headed west of the town.

In the western outskirts, there was a black market, rumored to be frequented by fugitives, bandits, and army deserters who could no longer survive on the frontier.

Jiang Maocai had never dared go there before, but today, he decided to take the risk.

...

Two days later, in the prison, Zhang Jiao sat hunched in a corner, filthy and disheveled. Were it not for the slight rise and fall of his chest, one might think him dead.

*Clang*—the iron door outside opened, and footsteps approached.

In the dim light, a disheveled middle-aged man walked up to him, tossed an oil-paper package in front of him with a thud, and turned to leave.

Zhang Jiao lunged forward, grabbing the package. With trembling fingers, he carefully opened it to find a soft, fluffy white bun inside.

Tears welled in Zhang Jiao’s eyes, and he smiled faintly. He treasured the bun, taking small, careful bites. To him, it tasted more delicious than any meat bun he’d ever had.

Halfway through, his teeth hit something hard. His heart leaped, and he quickly retrieved the object. In the faint light, he saw it was a small rolled-up note.

Glancing around to ensure the jailer wasn’t watching, he unrolled the note. Inside was a small black pill, and beneath it, three tiny words were written on the paper.

Having studied characters with Jiang Maocai for a while, he recognized common words. Squinting and leaning closer, he finally made out the three words: "Fake Death Pill."

...

Two more days later, at the Li Family Clinic, Jian Ru was busy at the medicine cabinet. Glancing toward the consultation room, he noticed the Second Young Master’s room was empty—he hadn’t returned yet.

Lately, the Second Young Master had been out often, seeking information.

Feng Qing had returned to his hometown only two years ago and had limited connections, especially when it came to government matters.

Though the Second Young Master, due to his poor health, seldom engaged in social activities outside the family, he had grown up in the area and knew the families they frequently interacted with.

These past few days, he had been seeking favors from Old Dr. Li’s old acquaintances to gather information.

Usually, the Second Young Master would return by the hour of Shen at the latest, but today, there was no sign of him even after waiting and waiting.

Once the hour of Shen passed, the sun would soon set.

Jian Ru grew worried. Making an excuse to the Old Accountant, he stepped outside to look around.

The street was less bustling than during the day, and he could see from one end to the other, but the person he knew was nowhere in sight.

If the Second Young Master had gone home first, even if he didn’t come himself, he would have sent Xiao Ning to inform Jian Ru.

Frowning, Jian Ru checked the teahouse they occasionally visited, then the bookstore the Second Young Master liked. After searching several places, he still found nothing.

Perhaps he was still at some uncle’s house, invited to stay for dinner, Jian Ru thought. If so, that family would send a servant to notify him. He could go back and wait.

With this in mind, he headed back. As he reached the alley beside the clinic and saw the stone bridge behind it, Jian Ru paused, feeling a sudden intuition, and turned into the alley.

Passing through the alley to the back of the clinic, by the glimmering river, a slender young man stood with his back to him.

The clothes he wore were specially chosen by Jian Ru that morning—unlike the casual attire he usually wore for consultations, these were much more formal and elegant, perfect for visiting a wealthy household.

The wind blew past, lifting the hem of his garments. The Second Young Master must have heard the movement, for he turned his head. His handsome face carried an indescribable gloom as he quietly watched the slender figure approach.

Jian Ru came to a stop beside him and glanced at the river at their feet.

The river was not wide; in autumn and winter, it would even run dry. Only when summer rains came did it take on the appearance of a proper river.

Beneath the water were green grasses that had sprouted in spring, now submerged and soaked into a slimy, murky green, swaying with the current.

Jian Ru tilted his head to look at the Second Young Master and asked, "When did you get back? Why are you here?"

The Second Young Master’s lips moved slightly as he said, "Zhang Jiao is dead."

Jian Ru’s eyes widened, stunned.

The Second Young Master continued, "Jiang Maocai bribed the jailer to bring food to Zhang Jiao. He hid a pill inside the food, wrapped in a note that said 'fake-death pill.' Zhang Jiao had no choice but to trust him and took the pill. That night, he died, but he was cautious enough to hide the note under the water bowl in his cell."

He looked at Jian Ru. "The jailer later found the note. Jiang Maocai was arrested—he won't get away with it now."

He slowly crouched down, wrapping his arms around his knees as he stared blankly at the river.

After a while, he said softly, "It’s strange. I don’t feel happy about it. In fact... I even feel a little sad."

The Second Young Master crouched down as well. Jian Ru quickly reached out to tug at the hem of his robe, afraid it would get dirty from the riverbank mud, and helped him fold it up. The Second Young Master went along, tucking it over his lap.

Just like that, the mood lightened a bit.

The Second Young Master smiled, and Jian Ru smiled too.

The Second Young Master said, "Those who do wrong must eventually pay for it."

Jian Ru wrinkled his nose and waved his hand dismissively, as if trying to chase away the negative emotions. "You’re right. One shouldn’t be overly dramatic. If they were still wandering around town every day, I’d be worried about running into trouble later."

"Let’s not think about them anymore," Jian Ru shook his head and turned to the Second Young Master beside him, watching his face as he asked softly, "What’s the matter? Something on your mind?"

The Second Young Master said, "I’m worried."

"Worried about what?"

"Worried that you’ll hate me."

"Why would I hate you?" Jian Ru asked, puzzled.

The Second Young Master went quiet.

Jian Ru seemed to realize something and hesitantly asked, "That matter you said you’ve been keeping from me—can you tell me now?"

The Second Young Master nodded. "Yes."

Jian Ru shifted closer, turning toward him more directly.

The setting sun dipped behind the mountains, washing the river in red light.

The Second Young Master lowered his gaze, his eyes resting calmly on the water as he said, "That night when I was taken to the villa by the third young master, I ran out of the flower hall and locked Sun Yushuang inside after he had taken the drug."

Jian Ru nodded. The Second Young Master had told him this before, and he didn’t understand why he was bringing it up again.

The Second Young Master continued, "Before, I told you that I hid the key and left the villa, letting him sweat it out with water." His throat worked. "That was a lie."

Jian Ru’s eyes widened in surprise as he listened to the Second Young Master continue in a slow, even tone, "The third young master was drunk that night and remembered nothing. I was the one who gave him the key, and I was the one who led him to the door of the flower hall."

The Second Young Master looked up at Jian Ru. "The reason Sun Yushuang ended up having to marry the third son of the second uncle’s family—I orchestrated it."