Chapter 77

Chapter 77

On the fourth day of the fifth month, as the Yin hour was nearly over.

The capital lay shrouded in a damp chill, with dew condensed on the flagstones, mist lingering deep in the alleys, and silence all around.

Suddenly, a blood-curdling wail from a night watchman, sharp as a blade, rent the stillness from the south bank of the moat. His cry was filled with such terror that all who heard it shuddered.

As dawn broke, the news spread through the city like wildfire.

At the same time, three riders shattered the morning twilight from different directions, their horses' hooves drumming like urgent rain as they all raced toward the Ministry of Justice.

Wen Buchi, clad in a moon-white riding suit, his horse's hoofbeats crisp; Situ Kong, galloping from the eastern city, his face calm; and on the other side, Chao Yunping, also arrived in armor.

The three reached the forbidding gates of the Ministry of Justice almost simultaneously.

Inside, the senior officials of the Three Judicial Offices were already waiting in the hall.

Yan Dongshan, the Imperial Censor-in-Chief from the Censorate, had come in person; Zhao Wenyuan, the Vice Minister of Justice, stood solemnly to his left; and Zhou Zhaoheng, the Chief Minister of the Court of Judicial Review, stood by the window, his expression unreadable.

When the six met, there were no pleasantries—only brief nods to one another. Then Zhao Wenyuan led them swiftly to the rear chamber where the corpse had been temporarily placed.

The deceased lay supine on a straw mat. A dim, flickering oil lamp cast an unsteady light on the swollen, pallid face of an elderly man, still frozen in an expression of terror.

"The deceased is a provincial graduate from Bozhou, named Ge Dahai, sixty-three years old," Zhao Wenyuan said in a low voice while putting on dark-colored gloves. "He spent his life struggling in the civil service exams, failing time and again, alone and without family—all ties long severed."

A man like that, dead and gone, would have gone unnoticed if not for the night watchman's chance discovery. His body would have rotted and stunk without anyone bothering to inquire.

"Preliminary examination suggests death by drowning—traces of water and sediment remain in the mouth and nose, consistent with such a cause." He pointed at Ge Dahai's nostrils, then pressed on the swollen forehead.

But Wen Buchi's sharp eyes caught something. After crouching for a close look, he noticed a faint red mark on the back of Ge Dahai's neck, hidden under the hairline and nearly invisible without careful scrutiny.

"This mark..." Situ Kong frowned.

"Not fatal," Wen Buchi interjected steadily, "but it looks like it was caused by someone pressing down from behind with force."

Chao Yunping pondered. "Someone subdued him and then forcibly held him underwater?"

Zhou Zhaoheng said coldly, "Or it could have been caused by struggling during an accidental fall. It's hard to say."

Yan Dongshan slowly shook his head. "A sixty-three-year-old old scholar walking alone by the moat late at night, tripping and drowning—that alone is suspicious enough. This mark only deepens the doubts."

The six men stood around the body. The dim lamp cast their distorted, elongated shadows onto the cold gray walls, like a gathering of demons.

The atmosphere in the room was heavy. On the surface, this case seemed merely the accidental death of a poor scholar. But with the capital inspection imminent, and the implications for the capital's defense and public stability, none of the Three Judicial Offices, the Imperial Guard, the Celestial Inspectorate, or the Eagle Soaring Guard could afford to stand aside.

A brief, tense discussion progressed swiftly in the dim chamber. All understood the sensitivity of the matter. Within half an hour, the six had dispersed, each quickly disappearing into the brightening daylight.

At noon that day, when Dongjun was at his zenith, an arrow from an unknown source tore through the air with a sharp whistle and embedded itself deep into the vermilion pillar of the Capital Prefecture's main gate.

The arrow shaft trembled, and attached to it was a letter.

The letter was rushed to the capital prefect's desk. The moment he unrolled it, beads of cold sweat dripped from his brow onto the paper.

It was a private communication letter. A rapid comparison of the handwriting confirmed it matched Ge Dahai's scripts from previous civil service exam papers. The letter was not new—the paper was yellowed, the ink aged—but its words were dripping with blood and humility, directly implicating a steward of the Su family, leaders of the Qingliu faction and literary giants of the court.

The letter's tone was both earnest and sycophantic, painting a picture of a destitute old scholar desperately seeking to curry favor and climb the social ladder. It brutally exposed the secret, unsavory thread connecting the Su family and this failed scholar.

A single stone stirred a thousand ripples.

The news spread like wildfire doused in oil, igniting every corner of the capital.

Just days earlier, word on the street had buzzed that the Su family would host this year's metropolitan examination. Thousands of scholars had waited eagerly, hoping for a discerning patron. Who could have imagined such a thunderbolt?

In the morning, the silent corpse; now, it seemed to have opened its eyes, using its death as a fuse to drop a boulder that could shatter the entire capital.

The streets erupted, teahouses boiled. Those who believed the letter railed against the degradation of scholarship and mourned the fall of orthodoxy. Those who did not denounced it as a frame-up, vowing to defend the family's honor.

Rumors were like knives, each slashing at the century-old Su family's gate.

That night, candles blazed in the study of the Ji mansion. Ji Ye suddenly hurled the teacup in his hand to the ground, shards flying everywhere, hot tea spilling across the floor.

"You worthless fool!"

A roar, barely restrained rage, exploded.

"What did I tell you?! Huh?! What did I say?!" He pointed a trembling finger at his protégé Meng Yigui, who stood with his head bowed. "Find someone 'safe'! 'Safe'! Don't you understand? I only needed him to take the money and do the job—step forward himself to bite the Su family, then be sent far away once it was done! And you... you've caused a death!"

Meng Yigui's face was deathly pale, his head nearly touching his chest. Cold sweat dripped down his temples. His lips trembled as he tried to defend himself, but not a single word came out.

Ji Ye's chest heaved violently, veins bulging on his temple. What had been a perfectly calculated move was now a sharp blade hanging over his own head.

Yes, the dirty water had indeed been splashed. The Su family was now mired in muck, their reputation damaged. On the surface, the original goal seemed achieved. But at what cost?

A human life.

A murder case that had alarmed the Three Judicial Offices, the Imperial Guard, the Celestial Inspectorate, the Capital Prefecture, and the Listening Terrace.

This was a far cry from his original plan. He had intended to quietly fan the flames, using a mix of true and false rumors to bring some stink onto the Su family, just enough to prevent them from taking the examiner's post. It was supposed to be done in the dark, like countless previous untraceable struggles—like thunder in a silent place, deciding victory in the formless. But now the matter had exploded into the open, stirring the entire city and court into a frenzy. Everyone's eyes were fixed on it. It had gone beyond "factional infighting" into a major case no one could cover up.

What infuriated him was Meng Yigui's stupidity—his presumptuousness in turning a covert move into an "all-or-nothing" gamble—and his own folly in letting such an impatient man handle a task that required delicate execution.

Now the goal was achieved, but so were the problems and uncertainties. The forged letter, the fatal pressure mark—each could be a fuse leading back to his own household. If even a shred of evidence connecting to the Ji mansion was traced, it would be the end.

At this thought, a chill shot from Ji Ye's feet to his head. His earlier fury gradually gave way to a deeper fear and remorse. He stared at the trembling Meng Yigui, wishing he could devour him alive.

Meng Yigui, for his part, had his own grievances. He had searched for days, but even with a sky-high bounty, no starving scholar dared to do such a thing to ruin their reputation forever. With the deadline looming, he had panicked and taken a gamble on a friendless, repeatedly failed old scholar who was languishing and waiting to die in the capital.

He had tried to intimidate and bribe the old man into compliance. But Ge Dahai, though destitute, still had a stubborn streak of scholar's integrity. Not only did he refuse sternly, but he also rebuked such despicable behavior and threatened to report it to the authorities immediately.

Hearing this, Meng Yigui was both shocked and furious. He knew that if he let Ge Dahai leave alive, not only would the plan be ruined, but he himself would face disgrace and destruction.

So, in a flash, evil overcame him.

Only the dead could keep silent forever!

With that thought, murderous intent flared in his eyes. Ignoring the consequences, he lunged and brutally pushed the struggling old man's head into the moat water, holding it down until all movement ceased.

Dead, the plan could proceed. He forced himself to stay calm, dumped the body into the river, and then carried out the original plan—sending the forged "private letter" to the Capital Prefecture by arrow.

But he never expected Wen Buchi to have such a sharp eye, noticing even that faint pressure mark. Now the case was no longer simple slander; it was a definite murder, with far-reaching implications. One misstep, and the flames would consume him.

"Your Excellency, please calm down... I, your student, was in a bind..." Meng Yigui finally squeezed out a few words, his voice tearful.

"Calm down? How can I calm down!" Ji Ye was nearly mad with rage. "Now the whole capital is in an uproar, and the Three Judicial Offices are watching! You... you are truly...!"

The Old Minister could no longer find words to scold him. He stopped abruptly.

But Ji Zhou, who had been sitting quietly to the side, slowly stirring his tea lid and blowing at the foam, now finally set down his teacup. The crisp clink of porcelain echoed clearly in the room, cutting through his father's heavy breaths and Meng Yigui's suppressed sobs.

He looked up, his gaze calmly sweeping over Meng Yigui, who was like a lost dog, then falling upon his father, who was restless and furious. A faint, almost imperceptible smile lingered at the corner of his lips.

"Father, since things have come to this, a thunderous rage won’t help matters," he spoke, his voice clear and calm, like a spring breeze sweeping over parched earth, easing the tense atmosphere in the study.

Ji Ye looked at his son and said, suppressing his anger, "Zhou'er, what do you suggest we do now?"

In fact, Ji Ye did not care about the death of a juren (provincial graduate). In his eyes, this man's death was nothing; the important thing was that the matter had blown up, and the fire must not spread to the Ji family.

Meng Yigui, as if grasping at a lifeline, looked urgently at Ji Zhou.

Ji Zhou nodded slightly, pondered for a moment, then said slowly, "Father, regarding Mr. Meng's matter..."

He paused deliberately, giving Meng Yigui a dismissive glance, "It was indeed handled too hastily. However, it is not entirely without room to turn things around."

He paused, seeing that both men were listening intently, then continued, "First of all, Ge Dahai is 'just' Ge Dahai. He has no family or friends; this is the greatest advantage. No one will demand justice or investigate on his behalf. So his cause of death can be anything. Even if the Three Judicial Offices (the highest courts) have doubts, without a plaintiff or new clues, as time goes on, the case will simply die down."

"Secondly, that letter..." Ji Zhou's tone was assured, "No matter how well the handwriting was imitated, it is ultimately a forgery. Therefore, we must not let everyone's attention be locked on the authenticity of the evidence."

Ji Ye frowned, gesturing for him to continue.

Ji Zhou stood up and paced slowly, "The key to this matter is to give Ge Dahai's death a motive that is 'reasonable,' a story that everyone can understand and believe deeply."

He stopped, his gaze sweeping over his father and Meng Yigui: "They say the Su family are upright scholars who value their reputation most. With the metropolitan examination approaching, in order to avoid suspicion and for the sake of the head examiner's reputation, they intended to secretly sever all ties with their protégés. That's possible, isn't it?"

He smiled slightly and continued, "As for Ge Dahai, old and confused, coming to the capital year after year, failing the examinations every time. This year, he finally managed to get in touch with the Su family. When he suddenly heard this news, what would his react