Chapter 124 Accusation

Chapter 124: Filing a Lawsuit

"The Wu family properties have all been confiscated, and Baojin Studio has been sealed off as well." Huang Zheng brought out all the account books from after Meng Wan's departure.

Meng Wan took them to examine closely, responding to his words, "I've read the letters you sent me carefully. How many writers do we have in the pavilion now?"

Huang Zheng flipped the account book to the last page for him. "After Baojin Studio was sealed, the writers they kept were finally free. Some returned to their hometowns in despair, while others were recruited by us."

The master of Baojin Studio disliked handling personnel matters fairly. Relying on the Wu family's background, he acted like a local tyrant—ruthless and domineering. Threatening writers with their families' lives was the bare minimum. Huang Zheng found many of his shady tactics appalling and couldn't bring himself to describe them to Meng Wan, a young gentleman, for fear of sullying his ears.

So at that time, only Baojin Studio could poach writers from others; their own writers dared not leave.

Meng Wan looked at the numbers in the account book and raised an eyebrow slightly. "The resident writers have grown to fifty? Can the pavilion accommodate them?"

"I've converted a back room into a small hall, which can seat ten people, though it's a bit cramped. I've already been looking for suitable new premises," Huang Zheng replied. He was now acting quite capably, able to take charge after Nie Zhiyao and Meng Wan had successively left.

Meng Wan tapped the revenue figures with his slender, fair fingers. "Don't rush. Kongmo Bookshop deals in scholarly goods, Panshi Studio mainly handles wholesale of stationery and inkstones, and the newly established Zhujian Bookstore..."

Huang Zheng knew the former owner well. "Their master is fairly decent; they sell books and such at reasonable prices. After Baojin Studio fell, they took over its connections. Now small, scattered bookshops in all the counties and towns of Changping go to them for supplies."

Meng Wan pondered, "The owner of Zhujian Bookstore is hardworking and calculating, and he knew how to seize the opportunity. But it's not sustainable for Qingxiao Pavilion to just sell storybooks forever. With more writers, the quality becomes uneven. Soon others will start picking on us."

Huang Zheng had considered this too. "What if we start printing our own books?"

Meng Wan dismissed the idea, patiently explaining, "First, we'd have to build a papermaking workshop from scratch, and finding paper artisans isn't easy. Changping is only so big; if we compete with others for this livelihood, no one will get much. Better to think of another path."

Meng Wan had a bold idea in mind, but it was too risky to implement directly. Yet he felt it would be useful someday. After weighing the options, he compromised and said to Huang Zheng, "I'm about to accompany your Brother Tingzhou to take up a post in the southern lands. From now on, Qingxiao Pavilion will be on your shoulders alone. But I want to ask you this: do you want to keep running it steadily for profit, or do you want to expand its scale further?"

Without a second's hesitation, Huang Zheng shot up from his chair. "Sister-in-law, I want to make Qingxiao Pavilion bigger!" Having come from a small town like Quanshui, Huang Zheng had a fierce drive.

Meng Wan smiled wryly and motioned for him to sit down. He took a few sips of tea, having learned some tea-drinking manners in the capital, which now lent him a certain poise.

"Since you're determined, let's discuss it thoroughly. My idea is that Qingxiao Pavilion shouldn't just focus on writing storybooks. With so many writers under one roof, we can diversify—write scripts for opera troupes and storytellers, and help newly opened shops with advertising."

Huang Zheng asked earnestly, "Sister-in-law, I understand writing scripts for opera troupes and storytellers, but what does 'advertising' mean?"

Meng Wan broke it down for him: "Advertising is just a fancy term for public notices. For example, if a tavern opens, how do you let customers know?"

Huang Zheng answered without thinking, "Bang gongs, beat drums, and set off firecrackers."

Meng Wan toyed with the jade pendant at his waist. "But that only attracts nearby neighbors and passersby. The tavern would have to rely on word-of-mouth over time to build its reputation. Some places with bad locations might operate for ten years and still be unknown."

"So a public notice… advertising, means posting a sheet of paper at the tavern door?"

Meng Wan chuckled. "Isn't that the same as banging gongs and setting off firecrackers? Advertising means our client pays us to have Qingxiao Pavilion writers craft promotional copy. That copy could be printed and distributed citywide by newsboys, or placed in Qingxiao Pavilion. If this model takes off, we could open branch pavilions in Fengtian, Lin'an, and other major prefectures, expanding the business."

Meng Wan narrowed his eyes slightly. What he really wanted was to start a private magazine—like a civilian newspaper—but although the Yu Kingdom hadn't explicitly banned merchants from running civilian newspapers, there were many restrictions. If a careless writer accidentally included something sensitive, the entire Qingxiao Pavilion would suffer, and he, Nie Zhiyao, and Huang Zheng would not escape death.

Small-scale advertising was safer. As long as they carefully vetted the merchants and stuck to small household businesses, it would be the most secure path.

Huang Zheng was no longer the reckless youth who knew nothing. After hearing Meng Wan's explanation, his eyes lit up. "This way, we can not only help taverns and such—some craftsmen in alleyways are only known by their neighbors."

But he also worried, "Will they be willing to pay for this advertising fee? And what if someone else copies us and prints their own handouts?"

Meng Wan smiled. "If we do business always afraid of being copied, then we might as well do nothing. Not doing anything means no one can copy us. Every industry must have its first pioneer before others follow. What we can do is make our own operations better, not fear being surpassed by others."

"Huang Zheng, money can never be earned to the full. Greed is a bottomless pit. Don't be enslaved by the stench of copper; keep your heart pure as ice. You hated the master of Baojin Studio, and you've suffered under those who are blinded by profit. Don't become one of them."

His plain words struck Huang Zheng deeply and inspiringly. It took a moment for him to find his voice. "I understand, Sister-in-law."

They discussed more details, and before Huang Zheng left, Meng Wan called him back. "You go and find out about someone for me."

Huang Zheng agreed readily. "Alright, who?"

"Jin Xi, the former manager of Baojin Studio."

Baojin Studio was now a taboo topic, but Jin Xi had been a capable head manager for many years. Meng Wan guessed he might either open his own bookshop or continue working as a manager elsewhere—either way, a way out. But he never expected Jin Xi to end up so miserable.

Looking at the old man huddled in a dilapidated hut in the northern part of the city, Meng Wan asked uncertainly, "Jin Xi?"

Jin Xi was disheveled and dressed in tatters, barely covering himself. His wrists were bent downward, and he cowered in the corner, his voice hoarse. "Sir, have you come to mock me? I may have made things difficult for you in the past, but that was all on orders of my master. I'm a useless wreck now. I beg you to show mercy!"

In just over half a year, he had fallen from being the glorious manager of Baojin Studio to this state.

Huang Zheng explained to Meng Wan, "Baojin Studio had made many enemies. When their master's entire family was wiped out, those people turned their vengeance on Jin Xi. All his land and property deeds were swindled away. Fearing being implicated, his wife and children took the remaining money and fled back to their hometown, leaving him alone in the prefectural city."

Meng Wan crouched down. He didn't waste words and had no sympathy for him. Jin Xi might look docile now, but in the past, he might have had blood on his hands.

"I assume you know Zhang Jizu?"

Jin Xi was silent for a moment. At this point, he wasn't afraid of being used; rather, he wanted to use whatever value he had left to trade for a chance to survive. Otherwise, this winter would freeze him to death in this abandoned hut.

"Whatever you want to ask, I'll tell you everything. But I beg you, sir, to give me a hundred taels of silver and safely see me out of the prefectural city."

Meng Wan hadn't expected him to be so cooperative. He stood up, lightly brushed the dust off the hem of his robe, and said slowly, "Don't rush. I know you're afraid others won't let you leave the city alive. I'll guarantee your life, but when it's time for you to earn your keep, if you try any tricks, I promise you'll have nowhere to run, nowhere to hide."

For a mere manager, Meng Wan had enough clout—especially now that Song Tingzhou held an official post. Ordinary merchants wouldn't dare offend him.

He brought Jin Xi back to the residence and had Xue Sheng keep an eye on him. Song Tingzhou had gone to visit the newly appointed prefectural magistrate and hadn't returned yet.

At noon, Song Tingzhou came back and met with Jin Xi privately.

That evening, the couple discussed many things in the study. The next day, without further delay, Meng Wan packed his things, and Song Tingzhou took Jin Xi directly to the county office to file a lawsuit.

All the officials in Changping had been either executed or demoted. The new prefectural magistrate was no young man, transferred from some unknown place, and took office warily. He received Song Tingzhou courteously.

When he heard that Song wanted to sue an ordinary xiucai (scholar), after hearing Jin Xi's testimony, he wasted no time. He asked for details of the case, summoned a clerk to verify Zhang Jizu's information and place of origin, confirmed they were correct, and immediately wrote up a warrant for the constables to bring Zhang Jizu to the office.

"Your Honor, why have you sent for me?" Zhang Jizu had been attending class at the prefectural school when the constables suddenly escorted him to the inner hall. He asked in shock and uncertainty.

The magistrate, dressed in official robes and cap, sat at the head of the inner hall with his advisors and clerks. He slammed the gavel. "Bring the plaintiff."

Zhang Jizu's heart jolted. Someone filed a lawsuit against him? For what?

Since the inner hall of the yamen was used for trials without onlookers, Song Tingzhou walked slowly from behind the hall and stood to one side below the dais. He first made a bow to the magistrate, then spoke in a calm, measured voice. "This subordinate, Song Tingzhou of Quanshui Town, Guyang County, accuses my former classmate Zhang Jizu of seeking personal gain by plotting against me, causing me to fail the county examination three times. Furthermore, four years ago, in collusion with the late Zheng Linseng, he mocked and toyed with me, nearly making me miss the prefectural examination. Here is my testimony."

The clerk politely took his written testimony and placed it on the magistrate's desk. They had already reviewed everything; this was merely a formality.

The moment Zhang Jizu saw Song Tingzhou, he knew it was bad. Hearing the accusation, he cried out loudly in protest. "Your Honor, I am unjustly accused! Song and I—"

Recalling that Song insisted on calling himself "this subordinate," Zhang gritted his teeth and corrected himself. "This student and Lord Song are from the same hometown. We were classmates for years, always on good terms with no enmity. I have no idea why he is falsely accusing me."

Song Tingzhou disdained to argue with someone so glib-tongued. He stood straight in the hall. "There's no need for you to put on airs. I'm not here to debate with you. There will be witnesses to testify against you in court."

The magistrate called out again, "Bring the witnesses."

Several student candidates from Quanshui Town who used to hang around with Zhang Jizu entered the hall together. In addition, an old man in a blue Confucian robe stood apart, alone.

The few candidate scholars knelt on the ground, not daring to lift their heads. "Your Honor, we can testify for Lord Song. Zhang Jizu indeed repeatedly and secretly framed Lord Song, causing him to fail to enter the examination hall three times. On the fourth occasion, he colluded with Zheng, a stipend scholar, making him suddenly renege on his promise to vouch for Lord Song just before the exam."

The old man in the blue Confucian robe also bowed. "I am the stipend scholar who vouched for Lord Song back then. What he said is true. Zheng, a stipend scholar, in order to find a son-in-law for his own son, deliberately abandoned Lord Song before entering the examination hall. I could not bear to see it, so I vouched for him. Many stipend scholars at the time knew about this matter."

The magistrate, seated at the upper end, interrogated Zhang Jizu. "Zhang Jizu, you deliberately framed a fellow student, obstructed his future, and acted with extreme malice. Do you confess your crime?"

Indeed, when a man is down, everyone kicks him. Zhang Jizu had no choice but to admit it, though he comforted himself that these were minor offenses—at most, a few days in jail and some silver compensation.

He clenched his teeth and bowed to the ground. "I was foolish. I admit my guilt. I beg Your Honor to consider my sincere attitude and spare me physical punishment. I am willing to pay Lord Song one hundred taels of silver."

Song Tingzhou's expression remained unchanged. He said calmly, "I do not want your hundred taels of silver. Think of it as a contribution to your cheap coffin."

He flicked his sleeves and continued, "Your Honor, I have another witness. He accuses Zhang Jizu of murder by poisoning his own father-in-law."

Zhang Jizu's body shuddered, and half of it trembled uncontrollably. His voice rose sharply. "You're lying! My father-in-law obviously died of illness. How could I have poisoned him!"

Song Tingzhou's eyes were indifferent. "What I say doesn't matter. What matters is whether you actually did it."

The magistrate ignored Zhang Jizu's weak denials and followed the regular procedure. "Summon the other plaintiff and witness to the court."

The court officers brought out a frail young man and a stooped old man from behind the hall. Zhang Jizu's pupils contracted at the sight of the young man, and he immediately glared and shouted, "What are you doing here? Get back home!"

It turned out that the young man was Zheng, a stipend scholar's only son. His eyes, no longer timid as before, burned with a shocking hatred. "No wonder my father, who was always in good health, suddenly fell ill and never recovered. It was you! What did the Zheng family ever do to wrong you? You beast, what a cruel heart you have!"

Murder was different from framing a fellow student. If Zhang Jizu admitted it today, he would likely have to pay with his life.

His eyes panicked, and he merely kowtowed to the magistrate. "Your Honor, I beg you to see the truth! My wife is jealous. She has been discontent recently because I took a concubine. Everything she says is nonsense. It cannot be taken as truth!"