Chapter 73: Leveraging Influence (Part 2)

Chapter 73: Leveraging Influence (Part 2)

Within less than half an hour, all the constables of Nanting, whether on leave, on patrol, or off duty, were hauled into the yamen all at once.

Deputy Magistrate Sun's face was like cold steel, yet inside he was churning with bitter anxiety, so wound up he couldn't sit still, pacing back and forth before the yamen.

He'd always been a practical, sharp-minded man who didn't believe in ghosts or gods.

...Now he was starting to think Wen Ren had put a hex on him.

Sun was too rattled to notice the looks on his men's faces.

The constables traded uneasy looks, clearly baffled.

Usually, when the magistrate had urgent work, he laid it out plain and paid well.

No comparison, no problem—but compared to that, Sun came up short.

Not only was he hard on them, he was also being all mysterious. After listening to him go on and on for a long while, they were still clueless, all they knew was some big shot had shown up at the yamen and something valuable was missing, and they were to tear Nanting apart looking for it, even if it meant digging three inches deep.

But Sun wouldn't say what was lost, just that it was some jade thing.

Sun had no clue that the very constables he'd always counted on were badmouthing him behind his back.

And it wasn't like he was hiding it on purpose.

—Losing that dragon pendant meant one thing above all: keep it quiet. Blab about it, and you're courting disaster for your whole nine clans.

He Qingsong, the head constable, was the first to step up and ask, a bit hesitant: "Deputy Magistrate Sun, since this matter is so critical, where has the magistrate gone?"

He Qingsong had no ulterior motive.

He just wanted to find someone solid to anchor the crew.

At least the magistrate would spell things out.

Sun knew Le Wuya was back in the rear courtyard with the Sixth Prince.

With something this big, of course the top local official had to be there, kowtowing and playing host.

But He Qingsong's question hit a nerve.

He was caught off guard, then his face went cold as he shot back, "What, I can't give you orders anymore?"

He Qingsong naturally said "wouldn't dare," then stepped back and traded a look with the rest of the room.

Watching them shoot each other looks, Sun felt another wave of rage he could barely choke down.

It felt like half a year ago all over again, when he'd led the charge to freeze out Master Wenren.

Except this time, he was the one in the hot seat.

Sun didn't have time to be rattled. He barked, face hard: "Where the hell is Qin Xingyue?!"

Qin Xingyue was a clerk in the county yamen's military office, dressed in a drab hemp robe, the kind of guy you'd never notice in a crowd.

His right leg was bad, dragging behind him, and he always carried a copper wine flask at his waist. Years of drinking had left him listless and half-dead.

He'd been home in mourning for twenty-seven months after his mother died, only getting back to Nanting yesterday. He'd figured he'd take three days to rest before checking in with the magistrate, but instead he'd walked straight into a mess.

...Man, what rotten luck.

Seeing how the winds had shifted, with the usually iron-fisted Sun getting one-upped by some nobody who'd bought his way into the magistrate's seat, he couldn't help but dial back his contempt for the County Magistrate he'd never laid eyes on: "Yes."

"How many local soldiers can we muster?"

Qin Xingyue, a seasoned hand, answered right away: "I already counted. About fifty."

Sun's brows knit together—clearly not happy with that number.

But dragging his feet any longer would only make it worse.

Sun made the call, no hesitation: "Move out!"

The crew marched out of the yamen looking fierce but totally confused, and ran smack into a scruffy beggar sneaking peeks around the stone lions by the gate.

Seeing that as a bad omen right off the bat, Sun was livid, dropping his usual friendly act: "What piece of trash is spying on yamen business? Men, throw this bastard in the clink!"

The beggar had been dithering about when to go in, but seeing he was about to get grabbed, he panicked, yelling in a shaky, squeaky voice, "I... I... I'm here to report a case!"

The beggar wasn't exactly worldly.

But since he was just telling what he'd seen, no lying needed, he managed to stammer out a clear story:

While begging, he'd spotted a stranger with a little bundle slipping into Tianjin Pawnshop, all sneaky-like, looking to pawn something.

He'd meant to wait by the door and sing some lucky verses for a tip, but the longer he squatted there, the more something felt wrong.

In recent days, who in Nanting—old or young, man or woman—did not know of the Xingtai massacre case?

The beggar crew the magistrate had hired made it crystal clear: if anyone saw a stranger in Nanting acting suspicious and reported it, they'd get paid.

So, chasing that reward, when the guy left the shop, the beggar tailed him.

He followed until the man mingled into the crowd and exited through the East Gate, where he dared not continue, and hurried back to the yamen to report the case and claim his reward.

Hearing this, Sun felt a glimmer of hope, with mixed emotions caught in his throat, almost moved to tears.

His mind was entirely devoid of thoughts about the Xingtai massacre case.

All he could think of was that dragon pendant he had not even dared to examine closely.

This was at least a lead!

Sun asked a few questions about the man's appearance, then with trembling hands untied the pouch at his waist and tossed it into the beggar's arms.

Then, he pulled out a handkerchief to dab at the tears about to spill from his eyes: "Seize him, take him to the jail, and lock him up first."

The beggar, clutching the reward given so readily, had no time for joy or protest before being dragged away unceremoniously.

After the beggar was hauled off, Sun first ordered Clerk Qin to lead twenty local soldiers to rush to the East Gate and capture that suspicious lame man, while the constables were divided into five groups to focus on inspecting every pawnshop in the county. He himself led a contingent, silently charging toward Tianjin Pawnshop.

Before the pawnshop could board up its shutters and begin inventory, the group seized the manager and three clerks in one go, and without explanation, smashed open the warehouse door, sweeping out all the contents within.

The bundle of "inferior jade and flawed pearls" that had just been stored not long ago naturally took priority and was immediately taken out for inspection.

The pawnshop manager, still steady-handed, sensed the situation had changed and forced himself to remain calm, standing aside with hands at his sides.

But two of the young clerks had never seen such a scene before.

They'd just taken in what looked like stolen goods, and guilty and scared, one of them couldn't hold in a sob.

The other caught it from him and started crying too.

One pitched high, the other low—they nearly turned their sobbing into a duet.

This was truly too suspicious.

Frantic but clinging to a shred of hope, Deputy Magistrate Sun, with shaking hands, unwrapped the newly stored bundle, only to find it held second-rate jewelry, and was instantly let down.

But he wasn't totally addled yet. His eyes darted around—these things looked familiar.

He studied them closely, then pulled the list from his chest to compare, and to his surprise, these pieces matched the items reported missing in the Xingtai massacre case.

With the big problem still unsolved and new trouble piling on, Deputy Magistrate Sun was seething with anxiety. Just as he was furiously ordering the yamen runners to haul all four off to the south city jail for a harsh interrogation, Wen Ren showed up.

Wen Ren was a little out of breath, clearly having sprinted the whole way: "The magistrate heard you were here and told me to let you know the item's been found."

He paused to catch his breath, then went on, "The nobleman swapped out his pouch this morning, and his attendant never told him, which set off all this mess. The whole yamen got roused, and the nobleman feels bad about it, so he's asking everyone to head back to the yamen and rest up—he'll have a reward for you."

Hearing there was a reward and no more night work, even though they had no clue who the nobleman was, the runners and local soldiers all perked up.

Deputy Magistrate Sun's legs gave out, and he dropped into a chair at the pawnshop, his wits snapping back into place.

Unlike the clueless runners, he'd genuinely been scared and worried, and now that things had worked out, the anger he'd bottled up had nowhere to go, almost making him spit blood.

Eyes bloodshot, Deputy Magistrate Sun stared down at the jewelry and finally found a target for his rage.

Furious beyond reason, shedding his usual calm, he smacked the chair's armrest and bellowed, "Chase them! Bring back the bastard who pawned that jewelry!"

Qin Xingyue sure got things done.

He came from the military, so he knew how to handle men.

Even if it was just to show off and rake in more reward money, he had to do this job right.

Luckily, the suspect was also gimpy in one leg, just like him. By the time Qin Xingyue caught up with his men, the guy was scrambling up a small hill.

Hearing the clatter of hooves behind him, the suspect's face went pale. He scrambled up a few steps, then suddenly spun around and tumbled back down the hill.

Qin Xingyue pulled up his horse and snapped out an order: "I'll go after him. You and you—take three men each and check the top of that hill. There's probably an accomplice. Flank from both sides, watch each other's backs, and be ready for an ambush!"

With that, he pulled an arrow from his quiver, gave the tip a quick kiss, and muttered, "Little general, watch over me."

Nocking the arrow, Qin Xingyue shut one eye in the pitch-black night, his other eye gleaming like a morning star, took aim into the dark, and the arrow flew like a shooting star, disappearing into the night.

The other soldiers couldn't even make out the figure, squinting ahead in confusion.

The sound of running footsteps stopped.

A moment later, a cry of pain rang out in the distance.

The squad leader immediately buttered him up: "Brother Qin, still got the magic touch!"

Qin Xingyue smacked him upside the head: "Cut the crap. I'm not your big brother—I'm seven or eight years younger than you, right? Go get him. Don't let him get all stubborn and off himself with the arrow."

Clearly, Qin Xingyue was worrying over nothing.

This wasn't a battlefield, and the guy wasn't some death-seeking warrior.

When the soldiers dragged the guy back, Qin Xingyue held up a torch to check his bloody face, then his leg, and couldn't help spitting: "Damn, he's got the same busted leg as me."

The other squad came down the hill, hauling back another guy.

Sure enough, he had a partner, but the guy was out cold, burning up with fever, half his arm rotting, flies buzzing around the wound.

Qin Xingyue left twelve men to keep sweeping the area in formation, while he took the rest, plus the two guys and all their junk, back to Nanting to report.

On the way back, he heard the nobleman's lost item had been found and things had settled down.

Qin Xingyue couldn't help but laugh and fume at once: So what the hell had he caught?

The nobleman loses some thing, sends them all scrambling like headless chickens, and then it just turns up?

What the hell was so precious about it? It's not like it was the imperial seal, for crying out loud?!

But his sharpness had long been worn away over the past decade or so.

He raised his wine flask and took a sip.

By the time he reached the yamen gate, Qin Xingyue had resumed his usual indifferent, lifeless demeanor.

Qin Xingyue reined in his horse and dismounted, when he suddenly heard an unfamiliar young male voice approaching: "You're muddled, Deputy Magistrate Sun. The man came to report a case in good faith; you should have invited him in, why detain him?"

Deputy Magistrate Sun: "...Yes."

"And as for the pawnshop owner and clerks from Tianjin Pawnshop, bringing them back for questioning is proper, but what's this about severe torture? Do you think my southern city jail is the eighteenth level of hell? What are you, Deputy Magistrate Sun? The King of Hell or a judge of the underworld?"

Deputy Magistrate Sun: "...Yes."

Qin Xingyue found this quite amusing.

In his seven or eight years in Nanting, he had seen Deputy Magistrate Sun throw his weight around and have his way, but never seen him so humbled.

Deputy Magistrate Sun paused: "But you... and the nobleman traveling at night is quite unsafe..."

"The nobleman is with me; why would I be unsafe? If something happens, I'll have the nobleman as company in death. Either way, I'm not at a loss."

Deputy Magistrate Sun, like a cat with its tail stepped on, said, "Magistrate, please watch your words! Watch your words!"

"Either you go tell Prefect Lyu to not urgently summon us to the prefectural meeting, or you tell the nobleman not to follow me."

Deputy Magistrate Sun: "...What use would my words be?"

"Exactly, so what use would mine be?"

Finally, the speaker stepped out of the yamen, one foot over the threshold, one foot inside, and turned to Deputy Magistrate Sun, saying, "Scholar Ming is going too. With the three of us together, you can rest assured about your magistrate's safety, right?"

Deputy Magistrate Sun: "..." Who's worried about you?!

Deputy Magistrate Sun's senses returned, and he belatedly remembered whose territory Tianjin Pawnshop was. He was already regretting it deeply, wondering how to explain this to Li Asi, when the magistrate suddenly came up with this new scheme, worrying him nearly to the point of tearing his hair out: "Why don't you wait and have Clerk Qin escort you? He's skilled, having come from the Tianlang Camp. Though he has an old leg injury, an extra layer of protection brings extra peace of mind, doesn't it?"

Qin Xingyue: "..."

...Spare him.

He still wanted to go back to sleep.

Qin Xingyue wanted to avoid them, but the two had already reached the yamen gate.

The lanterns at the yamen gate were pasted with translucent paper, throwing Le Wuya's face into sharp relief for Qin Xingyue.

Qin Xingyue went rigid on the spot.

The sound of an eagle's wings beating filled his ears, and the smell of grass and blossoms crushed under horses' hooves wafted past his nose.

Back then, he'd ridden hard after that man, whip raised, brimming with vigor, fancying himself a carefree wanderer, a newborn sun at dawn.

Even his voice had been brighter and more carefree back then: "Jiu Gao, pull out that arrow and come back—you'll be the savior of our entire Tianlang Camp!"

As his thoughts churned, he stepped back a few paces, trying to shield his bad leg with his horse's body.

When he realized what he was doing, Qin Xingyue thought himself ridiculous:

The young general was gone.

Tianlang Camp had long since disbanded.

Why was he still trying to save face in front of someone who didn't matter?

Le Wuya turned and spotted Qin Xingyue at the foot of the steps.

He studied him for a moment, then walked down the steps.

It wasn't until Le Wuya stood right in front of him that Qin Xingyue realized he'd spaced out again.

He scrambled to bow: "My lord, I..."

Le Wuya reached out and gave his shoulder a gentle press: "So you're back?"

Le Wuya had first noticed him while flipping through the county clerk roster of Nanting.

The name was unmistakably his, but face to face now, he didn't resemble that loud, chivalrous old friend at all.