Chapter 149 The Game (Part 8)

Zi Yongshou was stunned.

He knelt in the pitch-black, empty vegetable cellar, at a loss for words.

Scenes from the past slowly surfaced from the darkness before his eyes.

...

That day, Zi Yongshou was shocked to hear in the yamen that Prefect Qian had fallen into the river. He quickly grabbed a donkey cart and headed over with Mu Jiazhi.

The cart rattled along the frozen, iron-hard road, the ancient wheels repeatedly jolted violently by the snow-white, hard stones on the path, almost launching off the ground.

Zi Yongshou was bounced around until his head was spinning, but he stayed pale, not daring to say a word.

A perfectly fine prefect, loyal to the state, hardworking, and caring for the people, had barely taken office when he died a violent death far from home—how could it not look like...

His head was full of dark conspiracies, but they never came together into anything solid; just as they started to form, the speeding cart jolted them apart.

When he climbed out of the cart, Zi Yongshou, distracted and not watching his step, stumbled badly, slipped, and landed hard on the riverbank, flailing as he slid toward the water.

If Mu Jiazhi hadn't been quick on his feet, grabbing him just in time, he might have ended up just like Prefect Qian.

Zi Yongshou, scared out of his mind, looked down and saw a big puddle on the road, frozen solid into the mud, just a shade darker than the ground around it—easy to miss unless you looked closely.

Seeing that, he got even more suspicious. He hugged his autopsy kit to his chest, looked around, and felt a chill crawl up his spine.

By the little river, a few withered stalks of grass stood, the setting sun blood-red, as if the world couldn't care less.

Mu Jiazhi's face was icy cold, and the north wind added a layer of grief on top of the frost.

He asked, "Where's the prefect's body?"

Prefect Qian had drowned and frozen to death—a big deal. The local county magistrate didn't dare move the body carelessly, so with a sour face, he had his men set up a makeshift mourning shed on the spot, parking the body there for now, being extra careful not to get blamed.

A scrap of burlap they'd scrounged up barely covered Prefect Qian's body, leaving his frostbitten feet, purple and exposed.

Prefect Qian had only recently taken office but had already won people over. Now, dead far from home with no clear cause of death, Zi Yongshou, seeing this tragic sight, couldn't help his eyes stinging. He hung his head, unable to look anymore.

Mu Jiazhi stared at Prefect Qian for a long time, his voice rough: "He Qian, stop looking. Get to work."

A newly appointed official dying was bound to stir up speculation, and they couldn't just do the exam and call it done—the Ministry of Justice and the Court of Judicial Review would both send their own people to double-check.

Therefore, even though he was nervous about getting dragged into some nasty political mess, Zi Yongshou didn't dare screw around. He pulled out all the stops and did a painstaking exam.

However, as the examination went on, his tense body slowly loosened up.

Prefect Qian had drowned while still alive—belly swollen with water, foam at his mouth and nose. This was definitely not a body dumped in the water after death, and there were no signs of poisoning or sudden illness. The small scrapes and bruises on him were normal too.

He had a nasty lump on his forehead, but apart from that, there were no wounds indicative of a struggle.

It was truly the most textbook case of accidental drowning.

After on-site investigation, examining the road traces, footprints, and witness testimonies, Zi Yongshou, relying on his years of investigative experience, was basically convinced that Prefect Qian had simply been unlucky.

Since taking office in Tongzhou, Prefect Qian had dispersed his family wealth, even reducing his servants and maids to a minimum.

This time, he had brought only a single page boy to the banquet.

While he was straining every effort to curry favor with other prefects, hoping to secure a bit more resources for Tongzhou, his page boy had also been dragged into socializing.

Seeing his master so diligent, humbling himself to build good relations with the other prefects, the young page boy couldn't very well refuse and ended up drinking too much.

After the banquet, when Prefect Qian saw his page boy dead drunk and unconscious, he was at a loss.

Tongzhou's affairs were busy, and he hadn't drunk much himself. It wouldn't do to stay and wait for the servant to sober up, and the road ahead was mostly main thoroughfares, free of bandits or Japanese pirates, so he set off alone, heading back to Tongzhou.

Halfway there, the effects of the wine began to creep up on him. He stopped at a roadside tea stall and bought a bowl of strong tea.

Both the stall keeper and the shop assistant said that when they saw him, Prefect Qian's steps were slightly unsteady, but he was clearly in his right mind. He wasn't riding his horse but leading it by the reins, walking slowly.

Curious, the assistant asked why he didn't ride.

Prefect Qian smiled and replied that riding after drinking, if he bumped into a commoner or trampled crops, would be his fault.

Seeing his plain clothes and his serious, measured speech, the assistant took him for a pedantic scholar and advised him that since he was drunk, he might as well find an inn and rest for the night before continuing.

Prefect Qian shook his head: "No, I have important matters to attend to. Time waits for no one—every step I can take now is one step closer."

The assistant teased him: "What could be so important that you can't even rest one night?"

Prefect Qian didn't answer. He smiled, paid the bill politely, and rose to leave.

A large bowl of strong tea had dispelled most of his drunkenness. Several farmers, idle and passing the time, had gone out together to bask in the sun. They had seen Prefect Qian pass by and all said his steps were brisk, showing no signs of intoxication.

However, this was likely the beginning of the disaster.

Prefect Qian's spirits were high, but his reactions were no longer as sharp as an ordinary person's.

As he walked by the river, he happened to step onto that same inconspicuous patch of frozen ground that Registrar Zi had slipped on.

The riverbank was narrow, only wide enough for one person and one horse to pass. Prefect Qian, unsteady on his feet after drinking, stumbled and slid a few steps, then pitched headfirst into the river. His head smashed a hole in the ice, he lost consciousness, and sank into the icy gap.

From then on, there was no saving him.

Investigation revealed that the large puddle of frozen water on the ground had come from a farmer collecting manure who had passed by half an hour earlier with a donkey cart. His water jar had happened to crack from the cold, spilling hot water all over the ground.

The farmer, counting himself unlucky but being simple and kind-hearted, had gathered the shards of the jar into the withered grass by the roadside to prevent horses and pedestrians from injuring their feet.

His name was carved on the edge of the jar shards, so the authorities quickly traced it back to him.

When the farmer heard what had happened, he collapsed to the ground in terror and burst into loud sobs.

He cried out his innocence over and over: How was he to know that the half-drunk prefect would pass by here today?

How was he to know that the frozen water would be slippery enough to trip the prefect?

The case became clearer and clearer.

When all the witness testimony and physical evidence were complete, proving that Prefect Qian had indeed died from sheer misfortune, Registrar Zi wiped his forehead and realized he had broken out in a cold sweat again without noticing.

How many cases of people slipping into water in winter didn't occur every year in every region?

Although Prefect Qian had met an untimely end, dying in office—truly pitiable and lamentable—as long as it wasn't some sinister plot, he could rest easy.

He only wanted to take good care of his younger brother and had no desire to be drawn into any conflict.

Zi Yongshou could never have imagined that the danger of this matter lay not in the present, but in the future.

During these six months, his younger brother's health had been failing more and more, with medicine never leaving his lips. They'd tried several clinics, one prescription after another, and the herbs prescribed were getting pricier by the day.

Zi Yongshou's salary was meager to begin with, and his job in criminal forensics and corpse examination was a thankless grind, outspending his income. He was slowly reaching the end of his rope financially, and on top of being worn out, he still had to handle the mountain of official work Mu Jiazhi had dumped on him.

And the man he followed with unwavering loyalty, Mu Jiazhi, just happened to be one of those clean officials with hardly any family money.

Even if he did ask for help, he'd be lucky to get a few taels of silver out of him.

Moreover, having followed Mu Jiazhi for many years, Zi Yongshou was genuinely scared of that icy look of his.

They'd been classmates back in their youth, and there were nights they'd talked deep into the dark, heart to heart.

But those days were so long gone that Zi Yongshou could barely remember them anymore.

All that lingered around Zi Yongshou now was the faint smell of medicine, like a white silk noose around his neck, choking the breath out of him.

That was when Wei Yixian came looking for him.

By the glittering fish pond, Wei Yixian reclined in a rocking chair, rocking himself lazily back and forth. A little table beside him held a plate of cut watermelon, the sweet, cool smell drifting over, downright tempting.

Zi Yongshou had always been meek, head down, eyes low, never daring to raise his eyes.

Wei Yixian said, "The new prefect's about to take office. I need you to deliver a big gift to him for me."

Zi Yongshou kept his eyes down, staring at his own nose, minding his breathing: "Whatever you say, sir."

Wei Yixian passed him a few flimsy sheets of paper.

Zi Yongshou, not thinking twice, took them and skimmed them, then started to feel something was off.

A few mu of land and a couple of one-story houses—wasn't that way too cheap a gift for the Prefect?

But when he got a good look at the names on the deeds, he couldn't help but suck in a sharp breath.

Plain as day, it was his own name on them!

Zi Yongshou didn't dare take them, and his palms went slick with sweat.

He bowed in a panic, hands still out in front of him, shaking a little: "Sir, I've done nothing to deserve this, how could I possibly..."

Wei Yixian leaned in close: "Registrar Zi, that's not right. You may not have merit, but you've certainly put in the work. I've been watching from the sidelines, and I've noticed you've got too much on your plate and too little in your pocket, barely scraping by. You're a scholar, after all. If you could buy yourself some land, hire a few hands, and settle into a nice, easy life as a Senior Secretary, maybe take on a few students or open a little bookshop—wouldn't that be something? Why keep clinging to others in this official world, slaving away for a few scraps of silver every month?"

He snapped his silk fan shut, unhurried: "Besides, you lost both your parents when you were young. If you lose this brother of yours too, you'll be all alone in this world. Even if you did something great, who'd you have to tell?"

Zi Yongshou hung his head, scared and confused, his heart hammering in his chest.

"And another thing—Prefect Qian's death was fishy," Wei Yixian said, tapping his knee lightly with his fan. "If you could get justice for Prefect Qian, wouldn't that be a good deed that piles up virtue and blessings?"

The moment he brought up Prefect Qian, everything clicked for Zi Yongshou.

But he didn't dare say another word, and his knees started shaking: "Sir, Prefect Qian's case is closed—witnesses and evidence all accounted for..."

"The physical evidence came from your and Mu Jiazhi's investigation. As for witnesses..." Wei Yixian said, all smug. "That farmer who smashed the water jar—turns out his bad luck was good luck. A feng shui master told him to dig in the southeast corner of his ancestral home, and he dug up a chest of treasure. He thought it was a family heirloom from his ancestors, was overjoyed, and his good days seemed just ahead. But unexpectedly, he died a violent death in his home. The local magistrate suspects his wife conspired with a lover to murder him for the treasure, and has taken her into custody for thorough investigation."

A chill ran through Zi Yongshou's heart, and he blurted out, "Sir, when did this happen?"

Wei Yixian smiled faintly: "It happened today."

He used his fan to block the sunlight from above, observed the sun for a moment, and said calmly, "By noon, that farmer will be dead."

Zi Yongshou's lips lost their color, and his expression changed drastically.

He couldn't tell whether this was a malicious joke or whether Wei Yixian truly had such intentions, so he could only bite his lip and feign ignorance clumsily: "Sir... forgive my dullness, I truly don't understand your meaning..."

"How could it be so coincidental?" Wei Yixian laughed. "Upon close investigation, the authorities will surely find that the woman has no lover; and upon examining the treasure, they'll discover it was buried in the ground not long ago, the silver not yet tarnished... This is hardly a family heirloom—it could well be suspected as stolen goods of unclear origin. Who knows whether that feng shui master was specially sought out by the farmer to conceal the true source of his wealth?"

"Tell me, Registrar Zi, how did he die for no reason at all?"

Having long handled criminal cases, Zi Yongshou could already foresee what would happen next without Wei Yixian needing to say more.

...This farmer who collected manure was originally a law-abiding peasant, and the only case he had recently been involved in was the drowning of Prefect Qian.

Once the fact that "this farmer came into sudden wealth after Prefect Qian's drowning" was exposed, the case of Prefect Qian would be cast into doubt, and a retrial would be highly likely.

And at the time of the scene investigation, the only ones who knew the full story were he, Zi Yongshou, and Mu Jiazhi.

Even the officials hastily dispatched by the Ministry of Justice and the Court of Judicial Review learned most of the situation from them.

In other words, if he were willing to testify that Mu Jiazhi had concealed evidence, stabbing Mu Jiazhi in the back, Mu Jiazhi would be utterly powerless to refute it.

Half a year had passed, and Prefect Qian's body had already decomposed.

The witnesses' impressions of the case details had grown hazy, and they could hardly say much about it anymore.

The riverbank had been trampled countless times by people, carts, and horses, and any traces had long since vanished, impossible to investigate further.

As long as he was willing to testify that Mu Jiazhi had hidden something in the case, this case of accidental drowning, which had seemed as solid as a nail, would immediately become a murky, unsolvable mystery.

Wei Yixian saw his whole body trembling like a sieve, and took back the land deeds from his shaking hands, his eyes and brows full of smiles: "Keep these land and house deeds with me for safekeeping, lest they be discovered in a search and bring you harm."

"This way, it also prevents you from taking them to report me to Mu Jiazhi."

"But even if you did report me, what good would it do you? Without evidence, how could Mu Jiazhi punish me? And you, for no reason, would have made an enemy of me—why bother?"

"Rest assured, I don't require you to directly accuse Mu Jiazhi of guilt. Just pretend you don't remember clearly and say a few ambiguous, suggestive words—that will suffice. You're well-versed in criminal law, so you should know that Mu Jiazhi's guilt can't be firmly established. At the lightest, he'd merely be reprimanded; at the heaviest, he'd be demoted and exiled far away. Then you and he would be separated by vast distances, never to meet again—out of sight, out of mind."

"Afterward, you'll most likely be dismissed from office, and you can take these land and house deeds and live a carefree life. With land and fields, why worry about where your brother's medicine money will come from? Even if heaven doesn't grant him more years and your younger brother can't be cured by medicine, you can still accompany him for a few more years, so that when the day of his death comes, you'll be by his side. It would be too pitiful otherwise..."

Wei Yixian spoke to him slowly and deliberately, laying out the pros and cons.

Those vicious, cold, and seductive words flowed like cold water, thundering into Zi Yongshou's ears.

He seemed to experience what Prefect Qian must have felt on the day he fell into the water—pressed from all sides, unable to breathe, unable to swim to shore, only being swept along, sinking deeper and deeper.

...

Large drops of cold sweat gathered at the bridge of Zi Yongshou's nose, falling onto the cold, gray floor of the cellar, splashing into fine droplets.

He was silent for a long while, then asked softly, "It was... Prefect Wenren who had me brought here, wasn't it?"

In recent days, coming and going from the prefectural office on business, and knowing Wei Yixian's plan, cross-referencing the two, it was not difficult to deduce that the true target of Wei Yixian's schemes was none other than Wenren Ming Ke.

He might be a coward, but he was by no means stupid.

The wickedness and venom of Wei Yixian's scheme, combined with his own cowardice and gullibility, along with a trace of resentment and a hint of greed, formed an inescapable net.

And now, his sudden abduction here could be said to be one move that disrupted the entire game, throwing Wei Yixian's carefully laid plans into chaos.

In Tongzhou Prefecture, there were truly few who could pull off such a thing without a trace.

Upon hearing this, Hua Rong paused slightly, then reached out to remove the blindfold from his eyes.

Zi Yongshou squinted, straining to make out the boyish face before him in the faint moonlight.

"Prefect Wenren said that if Registrar Zi could guess who brought him here, there would be no need for secrecy," Hua Rong said with a dignified air. "He said he would take it upon himself to grant Registrar Zi a leave of absence, allowing you to rest up properly for a spell, to relax your mind and body, step away from it all, and carefully weigh the pros and cons. Meanwhile, you might also see how Prefects Mu and Wei would act once you're no longer of use."

With that, Hua Rong handed him the bowl and chopsticks. "Registrar Zi, take the bowl and eat. When you're full, you'll be better able to think things through."

Author's note:

Prefect Qian: That drinking culture in official circles is a no-go.