Chapter 405 The Hearts of People

Chapter 405: The Human Heart

Guang Zishun's death was a sudden wake-up call for Li Xiuwen. After searching everywhere for his family in vain, he went grim-faced to the prison to confront Yao Jing, who was barely alive after severe torture.

The Suzhou prefectural prison had never been as crowded as it was now. The torture chamber adjoined the cells, separated from the main and secondary halls by a single wall, for easy access when interrogating prisoners. The courtyard was enclosed by tall rammed-earth walls, topped with thorns and broken porcelain shards to deter anyone from climbing over.

The main gate was of thick elm, clad in iron sheeting and fitted with a cast-iron lock. Within the compound, besides the separate cells for male prisoners, female prisoners, and male courtesans, it was also divided into maximum-security and minimum-security cells.

The minimum-security cells held ordinary criminals—long, narrow earthen chambers of brick, stone, and loess, damp and chilly, with only a tiny window set high in the wall. No beds—just a thin layer of straw spread on the floor.

The maximum-security cells, also called death row, were even more cramped and sturdier than the minimum-security ones. The walls were thicker, the doors and windows of thick iron bars spaced less than a fist apart. The entire block was nearly lightless, damp and frigid, the air thick with stench and mildew—so cold it pierced to the bone even in summer.

Li Xiuwen's crimson official robe had seemed perfectly upright in the main hall, but in the death row that same red turned eerie.

"Enjoying your stay, Director Yao?" He walked to the deepest cell, holding an oil lamp to light the way, and spoke through the thick iron bars to the figure huddled on the straw inside.

Yao Jing—a soft-skinned eunuch who had run the entire Suzhou silk-weaving industry—would have found this sunless dungeon a torment even without torture. And he had been tortured besides. Physical pain had meant little to Guang Zishun, but on Yao Jing its effect was striking. He had spilled everything he knew and more, which was exactly why Guang Zishun had lost his head. Li Xiuwen had assumed Lord Song would have Yao Jing executed as well, yet he had not.

Hearing Li Xiuwen's voice, Yao Jing struggled to turn over in the straw. His chin was smooth and hairless, his flesh slack, his face white as a ghost. Stupid as he was, he'd realized by now that Li Xiuwen was the one who'd betrayed them.

His shrill, eerie voice emerged weak and listless: "You think that once I'm dead, you'll be safe? Fool! If you hadn't secretly switched sides, how would Suzhou have fallen under Lord Song's control? Guang Zishun is dead—do you think you'll survive alone? That business back then—the three of us did it together."

"Shut up!" Li Xiuwen looked around cautiously. Even though he'd already sent his attendants away, Lord Song's men were everywhere, all highly skilled in martial arts. He had to be on guard.

Lowering his voice, Li Xiuwen said, "What good would it do you to rat me out now? I'll ask you just one thing: where did Guang Zishun hide my family?"

"Heh... hahahaha!" Yao Jing first gave two sneering chuckles, then burst into loud laughter.

Afraid of drawing attention, Li Xiuwen cut him off in a cold voice: "What are you laughing at? Yao Jing, even if I can't save you, what about your younger siblings? What about the nephew you took as your heir? Don't you want to keep them alive? Just tell me where my family is, and I swear I'll keep the Yao family's line alive."

The laughter stopped abruptly. Yao Jing hung his head, lank strands of hair falling to cover half his face. "You can't even save yourself—how can you possibly protect the Yao family's line?"

Li Xiuwen didn't catch the difference between the Yao family's line and Yao Jing's own line—just one word, but he missed it. With full confidence, he said, "In all my years in Suzhou, I've neither secretly bought land nor wrongly judged a single case. Lord... Lord Song can find no fault in me. Even if I took some customary tribute money, it was within reason—at worst I'll get a scolding."

Except... that one matter. The single stain on his life—one that haunted his nightmares so badly he feared the wronged dead would come for him.

Yao Jing seemed to mull it over. His whole body screamed with pain—not a single spot didn't hurt. After drawing two breaths of the foul, cold air, he finally gave in: "Fine. I'll tell you where your family is. I hope Lord Li keeps his word. After all, I have no one left to entrust this to." After speaking these final words, he let out two more bitter laughs.

Li Xiuwen suppressed his excitement. "This official promises you."

"After Guang Zishun seized your family, he immediately sent men to deliver them to Yingtian Prefecture."

Yao Jing said only this one sentence, yet it was enough to send waves crashing through Li Xiuwen's heart.

He closed his eyes and spoke slowly: "Which of the three lords—Gao, Deng, or Cao?"

"Does it make a difference which one?" Yao Jing said.

The flickering lamplight cast shadows across Li Xiuwen's resentful face. Yao Jing then added softly, "It was Commander Cao Rui of the Regional Military Commission."

"No wonder! No wonder I searched everywhere outside Suzhou and found nothing!"

Li Xiuwen gnashed his teeth in hatred. The oil lamp in his hand swayed violently, nearly setting its cover ablaze. He ignored Yao Jing and turned to leave.

The lamp's faint light gradually receded, and the cell sank back into darkness.

"Li Xiuwen, don't forget how you rose from Assistant Prefect to Prefect."

"Family? Ancestral line? What use does a man without roots have for an ancestral line? Heh..."

—

Since arriving in Suzhou, Ge Quan had rarely left Lord Song's side. The power structure in Suzhou was intricately tangled—with Guang Zishun dead, agents from Yingtian Prefecture were quietly infiltrating. Whether in open view or in the shadows, Lord Song was never without guards. In recent days, even Meng Wan rarely went out. His comic had gained considerable traction—letters from the Yingtian relay station reported that vendors caught selling his book in Yingtian had been arrested in several batches, yet they still couldn't stamp it out. The story of "The Good Official" was spreading far and wide.

"Gao Siyu submitted a memorial impeaching me, and His Majesty ignored it. Then he privately rallied his faction to memorialize against your book, and got thoroughly chewed out by Lord Gou of the Censorate." Lord Song hadn't had a single moment of relaxation since coming south, but today he was genuinely amused by the desperate antics of Gao Siyu, the Provincial Administration Commissioner of Yingtian.

Meng Wan sat by the low window table, holding a weasel-hair brush. The tip moved across the rice paper with a soft scratching sound, sketching the images of two or three minor officials wearing black gauze caps with clear, upright features. Hearing Lord Song's words, he curved his lips slightly. "Just the desperate flailing of a dying man. Did you get the evidence from Li Xiuwen?"

Lord Song stood behind him, bending down to examine the artwork closely. In the sunlight, Meng Wan's profile was soft, his expression focused and serious, as if the entire world had narrowed to just him and his brush.

Lord Song's gaze lingered on his tightly pressed lips for a moment. "He's clever enough, I'll give him that. He sent men out in four directions from the four city gates, but everything they carried was fake. He himself disguised and slipped out of the city—if Brother Ge hadn't been personally shadowing him, he might well have gotten away."

Meng Wan showed no surprise. "He's a man of deep attachments, I suppose. If not for his concern for his family, there would have been no opening to exploit."

"Deep attachments?" Lord Song's eyes seemed capable of seeing straight through a person's heart. He had the day off today, a rare chance to spend it with Meng Wan. Sitting behind him, he wrapped his arms around him and said in a low voice, "Wan'er, you're wrong. Li Xiuwen is full of weaknesses—he just refuses to admit it. Lord Fang is his own maternal uncle."

Meng Wan set down his brush in a flash, shocked. "What? Then he still..."

For all the storms he thought he had weathered, he was still shaken by the darkness of the human heart.

"Lord Fang asked a fellow official from the Ministry of Personnel to transfer Li Xiuwen to his side for grooming. Because he was his own nephew, he was quite strict with him, and Li Xiuwen was terrified of him. Later, Gao Siyu secretly made contact with him and had him fabricate accusations that Fang Rushan was colluding with bandits."

Lord Song's time in Suzhou had not been wasted. He had extracted no small number of secrets from Guang Zishun and Yao Jing—especially Yao Jing, who once his mouth was pried open lost all restraint and poured out nearly every piece of inside information he knew.

Fang Rushan had been bold in his actions back then. His land surveys and re-registration of property had encroached upon the interests of the great families. The Gao and Deng families wielded near-absolute power across the entire south—how could they tolerate his meddling?

Gao Siyu had just assumed the position of Provincial Administration Commissioner at the time and couldn't act personally in many matters. So he joined forces with Deng You, the Judicial Commissioner who also came from a Suzhou great family, and together they worked to win over Commander Cao Rui of the Yingtian Regional Military Commission.

Cao Rui was a military man and Guang Zishun's direct superior. He knew his ambitious subordinate inside and out—ruthless enough to act and tight-lipped enough to keep secrets. Cao Rui ordered Guang Zishun to lead troops disguised as bandits and intercept Fang Rushan en route to the capital, killing him. When the Three Judicial Offices—the Ministry of Justice, the Court of Judicial Review, and the Censorate—held their joint trial, how could they try a case when the accused was already dead? And so Fang Rushan was wrongfully put to death.

Many things were just that cruel. Gao Siyu hadn't even needed to return to Suzhou—he simply remained secure in Yingtian, and those beneath him scrambled to get the deed done.

The times were so brutal that even Fang Rushan, who had clawed his way up to the position of prefect through hardship, could be framed and killed. But Fang Rushan died and the people of Suzhou still remembered him. Some minor figures died without even a proper grave, silently wrapped in a straw mat, rotting into the earth to fertilize the landlord's fields.

Meng Wan's heart ran cold. The sunlight falling on him couldn't warm his body. What Lord Song was doing would be far harsher than what Fang Rushan had attempted. He was going after the deeply entrenched foundations of the great families throughout Jiangnan—the interests that had taken root in Yingtian Prefecture, Suzhou Prefecture, and far beyond.

Fang Rushan's land surveys had only grazed their surface. What Lord Song intended was to tear these tangled cancers out by the roots. The danger he faced was not merely a hundred or a thousand times greater than what Fang Rushan had encountered.

"Gao Siyu and the others won't just sit and wait for death." Meng Wan's voice was dry, his fingertips icy. In his comic "The Good Official," the protagonist always escaped danger through wisdom and courage, but reality was far crueler than any comic.

Lord Song folded his hands over Meng Wan's abdomen and whispered comfort by his ear: "Don't be afraid. I never act until I'm absolutely certain."

His warm breath brushed Meng Wan's ear with unshakable conviction. "The waters of Jiangnan are murky, but as long as I stand firm and see clearly, I won't let them rise above my robes. The more Gao Siyu jumps around, the more it shows they're panicking. Lord Fang's injustice must be redressed by someone; the ills of Jiangnan must be excised by someone. Wan'er, trust me—this world will get better."

The atmosphere was heavy. Meng Wan turned his head to meet his gaze. Lord Song's eyes were gentle yet resolute, and Meng Wan found himself settling. "Are you going to interrogate Li Xiuwen later?"

Lord Song adjusted Meng Wan into a more comfortable position and, still holding him, picked up the brush Meng Wan had set down. On a blank sheet of paper, he slowly wrote two names: Meng Wan, Song Tingzhou. After finishing, he leaned in and kissed Meng Wan's fair cheek. "No. Let him talk with Yao Jing, compare their stories. It'll help him understand exactly how he's going to die."

The words were cold and forceful. This journey through the south showed a very different side of Lord Song compared to his time in Lingnan. Given the circumstances, he had no choice—had he not been so assertive, he would have been devoured whole by the time he reached Yangzhou.

"It's good that you're staying home with me today. Jin Rong is about to go stir-crazy at home—he plays with rabbits in the courtyard every day and bought two more yesterday. If we stay in Suzhou another half month, he'll have bred a whole litter of bunnies." Meng Wan didn't think Lord Song had done anything wrong. He only felt his man was incredibly impressive. He wrapped his arms around Lord Song's neck, pulled his head down, and planted a big kiss on him. The sight of his handsome man was intoxicating, and his mood brightened accordingly.

Lord Song laughed at his kiss. "Soon. Just bear with it a little longer. Once the new policies are successfully implemented in Yangzhou and Suzhou, we'll make one trip to Lin'an Prefecture. After that, the remaining prefectures like Songjiang and Huai'an won't be a concern."

"Lin'an Prefecture... that will probably be even trickier." Meng Wan wrinkled his nose. Just hearing the name was enough to anticipate endless trouble.

Zhifan came over with tea. Lord Song took a cup and fed Meng Wan a sip first, then raised the cup and drank what remained himself. "It won't be tricky."

A slight smile curved at the corner of Lord Song's lips as he promised Meng Wan, "And it won't trouble you either. When we reach Lin'an, you just go and enjoy yourself with Rong Geer. I'll handle everything."

Meng Wan didn't see Song Tingzhou's expression, but he could hear the calmness in his words. Meng Wan rubbed the top of his head against Song Tingzhou's chin, "Then it's settled—I'll go have fun, and you'll handle the fallout?"

"Mm, your husband will handle it for you."

Song Tingzhou had intercepted Li Xiuwen and thrown him in prison, leaving him to cool his heels for a day. That day, he didn't go to the yamen to work, spending the whole day holed up with Meng Wan. The two stayed in their room, and though it was a pity they didn't get to fully appreciate Suzhou's fine scenery, the two lovers, nestled together, found peace and quiet.

By this point, Suzhou Prefecture had undergone a complete overhaul—the entire prefectural government had been swept clean, and the tide within the city had quietly shifted. The heads of the Gao and Deng families had been beheaded at the market, while the remaining aristocratic clans, led by the Jiang family, all behaved obediently, quietly falling in line with the rules Song Tingzhou had laid down: paying redemption fines and cooperating with the prefectural office in verifying land holdings.

Some families even went ahead and delivered their concealed land deeds and acreage ledgers to Song Tingzhou's desk before the yamen even came knocking, hoping only to secure the release of their clan heads from prison as quickly as the Jiang family had, to keep their family's standing intact.

Everyone was secretly cursing their luck. At first, they'd all assumed Song Tingzhou had come to redistribute land, and the clans had prepared for a hard fight—they'd cooked up seven or eight sets of fake ledgers. But Song Tingzhou had cut down a batch of people right off the bat, cowing everyone into submission.

He hadn't been like this in Yangzhou at all!

By mid-June, the land measurement within Suzhou Prefecture's jurisdiction was more or less complete, and all the memorials impeaching Song Tingzhou had sunk like stones into the sea—not a single ripple.

Yingtian Prefecture was close to both Shengjing and Suzhou, yet the news it received was murky and unreliable. Information could be gathered, but it sounded as if someone had carefully prepared it and fed it to them.

Gao Siyu paced restlessly, already starting to think about cutting his losses. He'd been entrenched in Yingtian Prefecture for years, with deep roots and far-reaching connections. His elder brother had been killed right in front of him, and he still felt like he was dreaming. He'd never imagined Song Tingzhou could be so swift and ruthless, and for the first time, he felt powerless.

"Sir, Left Censor-in-Chief of the Censorate, Lord Gou, has personally come to the yamen, saying he wants to investigate the case of the former Suzhou Prefect Fang Rushan... and he brought people from the Ministry of Justice with him."

The subordinate's voice trembled as he spoke. The other side had stormed into the city with such momentum, yet as the local powers-that-be, they hadn't received even a hint of warning.

Gao Siyu demanded urgently, "What! What about the Provincial Judicial Commissioner Deng You? Why hasn't he sent word?"

The subordinate said bitterly, "People from the Ministry of Justice have already gone to the Provincial Judicial Commissioner's office."

Deng You could barely save himself—how could he possibly still look out for Gao Siyu?

Gao Siyu collapsed into his chair, his eyes vacant, but his voice still carried a last shred of hope: "And Cao Rui of the Regional Military Commission? He can't have been arrested too, can he? Wasn't he an old subordinate of Marquis Zhongyi?"

He fired off three questions in a row, only to hear his subordinate answer with difficulty, "Commander Cao was the first to be arrested. The one who took him was none other than the Zhongyi Marquis Heir himself—said he was cleaning house and... had Commander Cao's head chopped off on the spot."