Chapter 71

Chapter 71

Lou Changsui’s abrupt drop to his knees turned the Wen family’s faces a more riotous mix of colors than a spilled dye vat.

Wen Zuo had left the Wen family at thirteen and never returned, so even now, face-to-face, they didn’t recognize him.

But Lou Changsui had served with Wen Zuo and could never mistake that face.

One thought alone whirled madly in Wen Ze’s head—

How could this be?!

The swindler surnamed Liu who had severely beaten Wen Xu at the Qixianju, the suspect hunted by bailiffs throughout the city—was actually Wen Zuo!

When had he slipped into Mianzhou? How much had he pried into during this time? How much did he truly know about the secret of Bone-Penetrating Incense?

If Wen Zuo had been hiding in Mianzhou all along, rather than far away in Yingjing, then all the speculations he and Lou Changsui had made earlier were completely wrong!

Lou Changsui’s portly frame had been trembling non-stop since he laid eyes on Wen Zuo. That ominous premonition had now come true. Wen Zuo was indeed just as he had been in Bozhou, a master of unexpected schemes. It must have been Wen Zuo who orchestrated the prison break and seized the opportunity to snatch Liu Kangren!

His mind went blank, a sudden chill shooting up the back of his neck as if a cleaver were already resting there, ready to fall at any moment.

In his panic, he lifted his gaze toward Wen Yingjing, who had risen to his feet, hoping to catch a glimmer of hope from the elder’s steady composure.

The Da Qian dynasty governed the realm with filial piety as its cornerstone. Wen Zuo’s birth mother was still within the Wen family, bound by those blood ties. Surely he wouldn’t be completely heartless?

Yet what he saw was Wen Yingjing’s cheeks twitching uncontrollably.

Wen Yingjing strained to maintain his dignified bearing, trying to uphold the decorum befitting a patriarch of the local gentry. But his instinctive reaction upon facing Wen Zuo betrayed the fear and weakness hidden in his heart.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out. Judging by Wen Ze’s contemptuous and disparaging demeanor, Wen Zuo likely hadn’t received much kindness during his years in the Wen family.

Even these shrewd individuals knew to be wary and fearful, yet only Wen Xu stubbornly refused to concede defeat.

He saw stars from the pain as he dragged his broken arm, yowling, “How can he be Wen Zuo? He said himself he was from the Liu family! Minister Lou, you must be mistaken! How could that brat Wen Zuo have grown into such a… such a…”

Vile insults teetered on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to hurl the most degrading terms, comparing him to prostitutes and the like, but in the end, he didn’t dare utter them aloud.

He hoped the surrounding onlookers would grasp his unspoken implication, so that even unsaid, it would be as good as said.

Yet the merchants gathered around merely craned their necks like geese, their eyes fixed unwaveringly on Wen Zuo, not daring to make a sound.

Unwilling to back down, Wen Xu glared at Wen Zuo with bloodshot eyes, still treating this as a situation where his usual petty cunning and tantrums would suffice.

Wen Zuo’s gaze shifted from the kneeling Lou Changsui and settled on Wen Xu. His expression instantly turned icy to the extreme, his official authority bearing down like layers of blizzard frost: “What manner of thing are you, to dare act so insolently before This Academy? Guards, shackle him!”

According to Da Qian law, any commoner who showed disrespect to a capital official of the third rank or above, or to a noble or meritorious lord, was to be cangued for one month and separately interrogated for their crime. It was among the severest punishments for speech-related offenses.

“Wh-what?!” Wen Xu’s voice cracked in shock, unable to believe Wen Zuo would truly dare treat him this way.

The Wen family’s enforcers were all seasoned experts at reading the room. Seeing even Lou Changsui prostrate himself, they hastily hid their short clubs behind their backs and silently retreated far away, fearing they might be caught in the crossfire.

The two bailiffs who had followed Wen Xu downstairs exchanged uncertain glances, hesitating over whether they should step forward.

Wen Zuo’s brow furrowed slightly as he said sharply, “Lou Changsui, did you not hear This Academy’s order?”

Suddenly called by name, Lou Changsui felt his scalp go numb, his soul nearly fleeing his body. He scrambled to his feet, rushed down from the colorful stage, and shouted in a strained, off-key voice, “What are you still standing around for? Fetch the cangue!”

But as he drew near the bailiffs, he lowered his voice, hissing through clenched teeth, “Quickly search the central area. You must find Liu Kangren!”

“Right away!” The two bailiffs, having received the order, turned to take action.

“Wait.” Wen Zuo spoke up abruptly, his voice not loud but bone-chilling.

The two men instantly froze in place, standing anxiously at attention.

Wen Zuo shifted his gaze, turning his attack on Lou Changsui.

He withdrew his folding fan from Shen Zheng’s hand, slowly unfurling it inch by inch, his expression shifting unpredictably as he said, “It seems these bailiffs have eyes only for you, Minister Lou, and fail to recognize this official. It would seem I lack Minister Lou’s commanding presence.”

To try such tricks right under my nose—how pathetic.

Lou Changsui gaped in astonishment, hurriedly shaking his head vigorously. “No, no, no!”

Wen Zuo offered a faint, elusive smile and raised his fan to point.

Liu Qiying understood immediately, promptly retrieving a scroll from within her robes. Unfurling the imperial dragon-patterned paper, the words “By the Mandate of Heaven” stood out prominently. Lou Changsui’s knees, which had just stiffened, buckled with a *thump*.

“This official bears the imperial mandate to patrol Mianzhou, yet I cannot even command a mere bailiff. It seems your shadow looms too large, Minister Lou.” Wen Zuo’s tone was placid. “Since that is the case, from today onward, Minister Lou is hereby suspended and will remain at home. All matters in Mianzhou will be handled by this official on behalf of His Majesty. Henceforth, should anyone dare to obey only you and disregard my orders, they shall be charged with contempt of the imperial decree!”

“Wen—” His authority was stripped away in an instant, and a sense of helpless panic seized Lou Changsui’s heart.

“Go.” Wen Zuo waved his hand, signaling the two bailiffs.

Trembling with fear, the two men hastily kowtowed and retreated, no longer daring to concern themselves with Liu Kangren’s affairs. They dashed off toward the prefectural office to fetch the cangue.

Shen Zheng, observing from the side, thought to himself that Wen Zuo at this moment rather resembled the intimidating, power-wielding ministers described in *Qian History*, who could silence others with a mere glance.

Yet, recalling how Wen Zuo had tightly gripped his sleeve earlier, he couldn’t help but subtly revise his wording in his mind.

Just a rather imposing little kitten.

Wen Zuo's expression then turned suddenly amiable. He bent down to speak to Lou Changsui, who was still collapsed on the ground. “Minister Lou, please rise. In the past, Emperor Taizong issued an edict to establish proper rites and abolish Hu customs. According to ritual protocol, you are not directly subordinate to me—there is no need to kneel; a bow would suffice. Why make such a grand gesture? It is too great an honor for this Academy.”

Lou Changsui dared not disobey. Supporting his numb knees, he struggled to his feet, sweating profusely. “This… this humble official was momentarily carried away.”

Shen Zheng saw it was his turn to play his part and immediately put on a stern, unsmiling face. “Minister Lou doesn’t seem to see this Prince.”

Lou Changsui swayed, then “thud”—his knees hit the ground heavily once more. Only then did he suddenly realize the identity of the person before him, nearly scared out of his wits. “This humble official is blind! I did not know Your Highness the Fifth Prince had graced us with your presence! I deserve to die! I deserve to die!”

He completely forgot that he was not supposed to know it was the Fifth Prince who had come. Kneeling before Shen Zheng, he kowtowed three times in quick succession, his oily, shiny forehead instantly bruising a ring of red.

Shen Zheng frowned slightly, rather disgusted—he truly did not want such a person kneeling before him.

But for now, he endured it. Lifting his gaze, he swept it over Wen Yingjing, Wen Ze, and the group of wealthy spice merchants standing rigidly on the decorated stage, all visibly uneasy.

With a faint, sardonic smile, he said, “What about the rest of you?”

Several spice merchants snapped out of their daze. With a rustle, they all scrambled from their chairs and dropped to their knees in unison. “Commoners pay respects to the Fifth Prince!”

The merchants who had earlier craned their necks to watch the commotion also came to their senses, following suit and kneeling one after another. In an instant, the inner courtyard of Suhe Workshop was a dark, kneeling mass—only the commoners separated by the screen remained unaware of what was happening.

Wen Yingjing’s grizzled beard and hair were blown across his face by the wind. Amid the stark contrast of black and white, his usually kindly face now revealed a shadow of sinister resentment.

He had never imagined that one day he would have to kneel before that insignificant little bastard from years past.

As a powerful local magnate in Mianzhou, he had not bent his knee to anyone for decades.

Now, staring fixedly at Wen Zuo, his entire body rigid, he finally gritted his teeth, lifted his robe, bent his knees, and reluctantly knelt in Wen Zuo’s direction.

Wen Ze, seeing his father had already yielded to the intimidating weight of official power, felt a sudden surge of fear rise within him. He knew full well that Wen Zuo would never let the Wen family off, much less spare him!

Wen Ze's spindly legs buckled, planting him on the ground. At this point, saving face was the last thing on his mind. He reached a hand down to feel his crotch—it was already wet and warm.

Liu Hou'er watched from the side, utterly dumbfounded.

He could never have imagined that the con man who had shown him kindness while hiding and dodging with him would turn out to be Wen Zuo, the Director of the Hanlin Academy, and the Fifth Prince of the court!

No wonder they weren't the least bit afraid of Lou Changsui or the Wen family that held sway over everything!

His mind buzzed as he desperately tried to recall everything he had said in front of them before—

"Brain's not right," "looking for death"...

Damn it!

He had actually spouted a whole heap of such trash talk!

Clutching the wound on his abdomen, he also hurriedly flipped over and prostrated himself, clumsily kowtowing in imitation of the others.

Then he heard Shen Zheng call out, "Liu Hou'er, come here."

Liu Hou'er froze for a moment. Hesitantly, he scrambled to his feet and limped over to Shen Zheng, stammering, "Your... Your Highness?"

Shen Zheng chuckled. "You really put yourself out for us. Is your injury alright? We'll find someone to look at it in a moment."

Liu Hou'er was used to being injured; his body was perpetually bruised black and blue, so this little wound was truly nothing. He shook his head vigorously.

"Take a seat and rest for now." Shen Zheng lifted his chin, gesturing toward a nearby chair.

Liu Qiying put away the imperial edict and helped him sit down in her own seat to rest.

Liu Hou'er was short. Sitting in the spacious chair, his feet dangled, unable to touch the ground.

He sat there in a daze, not daring to move a muscle, thinking to himself, *They actually don't blame me for my wild talk? How can officials and royalty from the capital be this good?*

Wen Zuo rose, swaying his folding fan, and stepped onto the decorated stage with calm, measured strides, heading straight for Wen Yingjing.

He deliberately stopped in front of Wen Yingjing, gazing down upon that old, weathered face, a mocking smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

According to Da Qian's Rites, as a scholar and holding the nominal status of a stepfather, Wen Yingjing originally did not need to perform a full kowtow to Wen Zuo. But at this moment, he was kneeling to the Fifth Prince of the court. Until Shen Zheng spoke, he didn't even have the right to lift his head.

Wen Zuo said nothing; he didn't need to say anything. He felt a profound satisfaction that time was wonderful, capable of turning the world upside down, giving him the chance to personally settle old scores.

Wen Yingjing's forehead was pressed low, his palms slightly spread, his back hunched in a thoroughly humiliating posture. All he could see before him was the hem of Wen Zuo's robe.

A drop of hot sweat slid from his forehead into the corner of his eye, stinging unbearably.

Hearing Wen Zuo's mocking laugh, the veins on the back of his hands bulged like blue worms from the force of his clenching.

Only after Wen Zuo had savored the sight enough did he turn around, his sleeves lightly fluttering. His gaze swept over the kowtowing clerks and yamen runners nearby. "Why are you still blocking with these screens? Since this is an Incense Association, it is meant to be a city-wide celebration. How can we shut out the common people and treat them differently?"

At his words, the layers of screens were removed. The common people, craning their necks and standing on tiptoes to see this scene, were all struck dumb with astonishment.

Why were those high-and-mighty masters, who usually looked down on everyone, all kneeling together on the ground?

Wen Zuo reached out, grabbed a wooden mallet from nearby, and slammed it against the golden gong with a loud "clang!" that made the ears of those around him ring.

"His Majesty, reigning from the ninefold heavens, has specially ordered This Academy and the Fifth Prince to investigate in detail the failings in Mianzhou's locust disaster relief, to rescue the people from their dire straits," he announced solemnly, his voice clearly reaching the ears of the commoners. "Upon arriving in Mianzhou, This Academy learned that this place has been suffering from disaster for over half a year, with corpses of the starved littering the fields. There are even people selling their children for food just to survive. Hearing of such misery, This Academy's heart feels as if cut by a knife!"

"The elders of Mianzhou may have long heard my name." Wen Zuo's gaze swept over the rigidly kneeling Wen Yingjing and his son, and he gave a cold laugh. "I am a son of the Wen family, named Wen Zuo. Initially hearing that my father, Wen Yingjing, was renowned for his kindness, This Academy was deeply moved. Since the Wen family establishes itself on goodness, why not take that goodness to its logical conclusion? From today onward, the Wen family's entire fortune shall be donated in full for disaster relief—to purchase grain and distribute porridge, to address the most urgent needs!"

Upon hearing this, Wen Yingjing abruptly raised his head. His wrinkled face was filled with horror as he stared fixedly at Wen Zuo, as if he wanted to devour him alive.

*What a vicious scheme from this bastard!*

Who in Mianzhou didn't know that he, Wen Yingjing, was a living Bodhisattva who accumulated virtue and performed good deeds?

The blame for stealing grain and embezzling funds had long been quietly pinned on Liu Kangren's head. The common people believed this wholeheartedly and were even more grateful to the Wen family.

Wen Zuo was a newcomer, without local connections or proof. If he dared to directly accuse the Wen family and openly oppose them, the people would only think he had ulterior motives and hidden agendas.

But he deliberately didn't play by the usual rules. Not only did he not argue or contend, he actually followed the Wen family's reputation for goodness and forced them to "take that goodness to its logical conclusion."

If the Wen family agreed, decades of accumulated family wealth would be scattered in a single day. If they refused, they would be slapping their own faces in public, even drawing curses from the people pointing at their backs!

Wen Ze's eyes were even bloodshot, his eyeballs almost bursting from their sockets, his teeth grinding audibly. But in the end, he didn't dare rise and resist. He could only squeeze out intermittent, hissing roars through gritted teeth: "You... you—!"

"This Academy has learned that at today's Incense Association, many refugees risked their lives to find ambergris, hoping only to exchange it for some silver to redeem their flesh and blood." Wen Zuo continued, completely ignoring the commotion behind him. "You need not return a single coin to the Wen family. The children kept by Dong Yazi will be returned to you as soon as possible. This Academy also earnestly requests that you spread the word to refugees everywhere: do not risk further journeys; return home quickly. I, Wen Zuo, swear here and now: within seven days, if relief porridge kitchens are not established throughout Mianzhou, for each day late, one person from my Wen family shall die to atone to the people of Mianzhou!"

Wen Yingjing remained frozen in place. Wen Ze trembled all over. Even Wen Xu, who had been writhing in pain, forgot to moan, gaping dumbfounded at Wen Zuo on the stage.

The refugees didn't understand the hidden intricacies. They only heard "donation," "disaster relief," and "atonement." They only knew that Minister Wen before them cared for the people and was utterly sincere.

"Thank you, Honorable Blue-Sky Official, for saving our lives!"

"The court hasn't forgotten us! We are finally saved, we won't starve!"

"Minister Wen is a living Bodhisattva, a living Bodhisattva! My child, your mother can finally see you!"

...

Wen Zuo originally intended to call for the refugees to rise, but below the stage, the sound of weeping was continuous, mournful and heart-wrenching, already drowning out his voice.

At this moment, they were only concerned with transforming their full hearts of gratitude and despair into tears, prostrating themselves on the ground and kowtowing repeatedly.

Wen Zuo stood on the decorated stage, sweeping his gaze over each of these emaciated, skeletal figures.

He had seen such a scene in Bozhou as well.

The same displacement, the same misery of the masses, the same weeping uncontrollably upon grasping a sliver of hope in desperate straits.

In a daze, it seemed that year after year, across the vast landscape, nothing had ever really been different.

He had always been waiting for the person who could overturn deep-seated maladies and change the ways of the world to appear.