Chapter 91

Chapter 91

People everywhere love to watch a spectacle, and when they saw someone beating the drum to appeal for justice—and the drummer being a young and handsome lad—those with spare time all gathered around.

Soon, a squad of yamen runners came to Zhong Yizhu and Pei Mu's side, surrounding them. Each held a discipline rod, their presence imposing. The head constable, with fierce tiger-like eyes, looked at Zhong Yizhu with pressure: "Is it you who seeks justice?"

Zhong Yizhu responded with composure, taking the petition from Pei Mu and presenting it with both hands: "Yes, I am Zhong Yizhu, and this is my husband Pei Mu. We have a grievance to report."

The constable took the petition: "If your grievance proves false, you will receive fifty strokes of the discipline rod. Do you understand?"

The crowd, which had fallen silent under the imposing display, burst into murmurs. If one filed a false accusation or lost the case, the price was too steep. Forget the young man beside him—that soft-skinned lad, how could he endure such punishment?

What kind of grievance could drive them to seek justice at such a cost?

Zhong Yizhu and Pei Mu both said solemnly: "We understand."

At that, the constable ordered the yamen gates thrown open, and leading the way with the petition in hand, Pei Mu and Zhong Yizhu followed behind him. Flanking them were two rows of yamen runners, striking the ground with their discipline rods—a display meant to intimidate those entering, warning against false accusations and reckless words.

As the two entered the courtroom, a sharp crack of the gavel rang out. Zhong Yizhu and Pei Mu quickly knelt, and a stern voice came from above: "Who are you before this court, and what grievance do you bring?"

Pei Mu cupped his hands and reported: "Your Honor, I am Pei Mu, from Liushan Village, Songyun County. My husband is Zhong Yizhu, the third young master of the Zhong Estate on Yunshui Street in the prefectural city. Some time ago, while I was away on business, my husband was tending the shop at home and was nearly forcibly abducted in broad daylight. The magistrate of Songyun County has already determined that the Zhong Estate sent men disguised as bandits to ruin my husband's reputation and seize his incense-making craft. The full details are in the petition. The mastermind is clearly the Zhong family, yet the constables from Songyun County came to the prefectural city but could do nothing. Refusing to let the real culprit get away, I have come to appeal for justice."

"Oh? Is that so?" The prefect's tone was flat, his thoughts unreadable.

"Let me see the petition."

Zhong Yizhu glanced at the clerk in charge of petitions on one side of the hall. Noticing his flustered look, he knew this must be the Dou clerk that the Zhong family had bribed.

Like the county yamen, the prefectural yamen handled most cases via written petitions, with the criminal clerk handling most cases and reporting to the prefect. Only for major or serious cases would the prefect personally intervene.

So they chose to beat the drum and appeal directly to the prefect. Pei Mu's words didn't directly name the criminal clerk, yet every word pointed at him.

Accusing the clerk was basically accusing the prefect of poor management. Zhong Yizhu had instructed the litigator not to raise this point in the petition, and Pei Mu didn't bring it up either. Thus, the crowd's attention focused on Zhong Yizhu's ordeal—these were blood relatives. If the Zhong family really did something this vicious, it was utterly evil.

Since Zhong's Fragrance Shop was fairly well known among incense lovers, some in the crowd put two and two together.

"Hiss, the Zhong family—that sounds familiar."

"I know, I know! Yunshui Street and incense-making—that's the Zhong family of Zhong's Fragrance Shop. I used to buy there often. I heard the original owner passed away suddenly last year, and the shop's incense hasn't been the same since. I haven't gone in ages."

"So this lad is the original owner's son? How did he end up married off to a village so far away? And a lad who knows how to make incense? What's this about harming him over the craft? It's all so confusing..."

"Silence!" A runner standing outside barked, and the crowd quieted.

The prefect said: "Young Zhong, though you are married, you're accusing your own uncle's family. If the case turns out false, it'll be treated as a false accusation and punished more harshly."

His tone grew stern at the end. The Great Yan placed great importance on filial piety, and while this wasn't accusing one's own parents, such an elder relationship still weighed on the court's decision.

Zhong Yizhu lowered his eyes and replied: "I understand. I've always respected my elders, but they've schemed against me again and again, trying to kill me. Though my life isn't worth much, my mother is still alive. I have to keep this life to care for her, so I'm forced to face them in court, so I don't fail to guard against their next attempt and leave my mother to bury her own child in her old age."

Being filial to his mother naturally came before uncles and aunts. At this, the prefect's expression softened slightly, then turned grave at his words. He immediately threw down two tokens.

"If that's the case, Jia Gang, take men to the Zhong Estate and bring the third branch's couple to court. Zheng You, go to the prison and bring the suspect Wang Shun to court!"

"Yes!" The two runners acknowledged the order and left. Jia Gang, the head constable, took four runners with him, with swords at their hips, and hurried out of the yamen.

"Clerk Dou, bring the previous case files." The prefect's voice sounded again from the hall.

Clerk Dou's forehead broke out in cold sweat. He had never imagined such a minor case would lead someone to beat the drum and appeal. How eagerly he'd taken the Zhong family's money before, and how much he regretted it now. But he had no choice but to obey, sweating buckets as he went to the archives to fetch the files.

He knew exactly what was in them—a clumsy kidnapping case. The confessions of Wu Zitian and the others were enough to spell out the facts. Wang Shun and the Zhong family only showed up in Wu Zitian's statements, so as long as he insisted that Wu Zitian was making wild accusations and thus had detained Wang Shun for further investigation, he could claim a misjudged case rather than bribery and corruption.

After reading the files, the prefect slammed them onto the table with a crack but said nothing. Clerk Dou's heart hung in suspense, cold sweat dripping from his palms as he wiped them endlessly on his trouser legs, never quite getting them dry.

Meanwhile, Wang Shun had been brought to the hall. He was filthy, hair disheveled, and as the runners moved to force him to kneel, a sharp crack of the gavel startled him into collapsing to his knees.

"Wang Shun! This court asks you once more: do you confess your crimes?"

Wang Shun appeared utterly terrified, stammering and unable to speak. The prefect, however, had little patience. Throwing down a token, he ordered Wang Shun gagged and dragged aside for a beating.

By the time Zhong Laosan and his wife were brought in, the beating was still underway. The couple was startled by the sight of the punishment—Wang Shun's back, buttocks, and legs were already a bloody mess, and the dull thuds of the rod striking flesh were enough to make anyone's heart race. They couldn't even muster resentment toward Pei Mu and Zhong Yizhu, trembling as they knelt and gave their names and origins.

The prefect asked unhurriedly: "Zhong Laosan, Wu Shi—was it you who instructed Wang Shun to hire assassins?"

The two quickly denied it, crying out their innocence, suggesting that perhaps a household servant had overstepped to curry favor. But both stammered—it was their first time in court, and anyone would be afraid.

Seeing Wang Shun's condition, they knew he was doomed and hurriedly shifted all blame onto him.

"So you're saying your household servants are wealthy enough to produce forty taels of silver to hire assassins?"

"This..." Zhong Laosan's forehead beaded with sweat as he scrambled for words. "I wouldn't know either. Wang Shun has always been loyal to us, and we trusted him. Perhaps he acted rashly on his own and secretly withdrew the silver."

At that, Zhong Yizhu spoke up: "Regardless of who withdraws money from the household, the accountant records it in the ledgers. Since Third Uncle says so, just bring the estate's account books for verification."

"Also, Your Honor may not know, but because the estate is small, the Zhong Estate and Zhong's Fragrance Shop share one accountant. Sometimes the books get muddled, so to be safe, it might be best to examine them all."

Zhong Laosan whipped his head toward Zhong Yizhu, a chill running through him. So this appeal wasn't really about making them pay for hiring assassins—that was just a cover. Destroying their family was the true goal!

How did he know the books had problems? Zhong Laosan couldn't spare time to ponder the cause. In this critical moment, to protect the ledgers, he was about to grit his teeth and push Wu Shi forward as the scapegoat when his mother's wailing came from outside.

Zhong Yourong, arriving late, brought Zhong Laotai and Zhong Laohan to the courtroom's entrance. Though stopped by the runners, Zhong Laotai shouted toward the hall: "Your Honor, forgive me! It is all this old woman's fault!"

Seeing a glimmer of hope, Zhong Laosan quickly reported to the prefect above: "Those are my mother and father, and my eldest brother."

The prefect ordered the three brought in. As soon as Zhong Laotai entered the hall, she knelt and wept: "Your Honor, it's all my fault. Zhu Ge'er went to the village for a funeral, but without telling us elders, he married there. He never came to visit during festivals. I was so worried, and since his sister was getting married, I sent people to bring him home for a reunion. But he drove them out and cursed them..."

Zhong Laotai was in her early sixties, hair already gray. Though stout of figure, her tearful plea was enough to evoke sympathy. She wiped her tears and continued.

"I only meant to scare him a little, to show him the city's comforts and bring him back. But that Wu family boy was greedy by nature, using the Zhong name for his own gain, committing such heinous acts and framing our household!"

"Your Honor, I confess—I ordered it. But I only wanted to teach him a lesson, never anything like what Wu Zitian claims."

With this twisting of the truth, the case of hiring assassins was recast as a family matter of disciplining an unfilial descendant. Some in the crowd outside shifted their sympathy, feeling Zhong Laotai had merely trusted the wrong person. That Wu boy was no good, but ultimately it was Zhong Yizhu's fault—how could he drive away his grandmother's messengers?

"As for the incense formula, our Zhong shop has its own. Zhu Ge'er stole the craft and took it to his husband's home to open a shop. Why would we scheme like that? Does a father need to learn from his son?"

The onlookers nodded, agreeing with Zhong Laotai while their gazes toward Zhong Yizhu turned suspicious. The formula was stolen by the lad? What was he really up to with all this?

Then Zhong Yourong said sternly: "Zhu Ge'er, when your second uncle passed, you wanted to divide the estate. You stormed off when Grandmother didn't give you what you demanded. Tell the truth—did you and Wu Zitian stage this whole thing to trap us, so you could bring your husband's family to carve up the Zhong estate once we're done?"

"Hiss—" The crowd gasped. The prefect looked at Zhong Yizhu and Pei Mu: "The old lady's words—do you have any rebuttal?"

Zhong Yizhu furrowed his brow slightly. Zhong Laotai's words were pure fabrication, yet to the uninformed, they were hard to poke holes in. The absurdity was that he had no evidence to prove her lies either—it was just one mouth against another. If he rebutted now, he'd appear on the back foot.

As Zhong Yizhu fell silent, the crowd's murmuring grew louder. Most sided with the Zhong family, and voices accusing Zhong Yizhu and Pei Mu of greed drifted to their ears. The tide was turning against them.

A young beggar squeezed through the crowd at the back, took in the situation, and slipped away. He darted through two streets and whispered to a man in scholar's robes at a teahouse. The man nodded with satisfaction, stroking his beard, and tossed him a few copper coins. The beggar ran off gleefully.

What he didn't know was that, right after he left, several people hurried into the yamen.

Fang You, pacing anxiously in the crowd, spotted them with a flash of recognition and rushed over.

Just as the prefect was about to speak, a booming voice came from behind the crowd: "Your Honor, I have something to say—this old woman is lying!"