Chapter 152: The Game (11)

Before autumn set in, Le Wuya sent a letter to Nanting.

The letter was addressed to Old Madam Ming, inquiring about her health and asking whether Ming Xiangzhao had already set out from home to travel to Yizhou for the examinations.

At the end of the letter, Le Wuya asked Old Madam Ming not to rush a reply, but rather to have Ming Xiangzhao write back in person once he returned from the examinations.

Le Wuya knew that Wen Renyue had always had a will greater than heaven—he would never delay on matters as important as the examinations.

His letter was, in truth, meant to give Old Madam Ming a calming pill and to add an extra layer of protection.

Old Madam Ming was illiterate, so upon receiving the letter, she would surely ask a literate neighbor to read it aloud.

When others saw that the letter was written in his own handwriting, they would know that Le Wuya, despite his promotion and departure from Nanting, still remembered the Ming family and had not forgotten them.

In this way, even if Wen Renyue truly came to seek him out in the future, Old Madam Ming, left alone in Nanting, would be looked after by her neighbors.

However, before Wen Renyue's reply arrived, trouble came first.

...

Le Wuya now had three great Buddhas sitting on his head.

The Provincial Judge Zheng Miao, who oversaw criminal justice and was as elusive as a dragon that shows only its head; Feng Long, the Provincial Administration Commissioner, who was obsessed with antiques and had the air of a sleeping lion or a crouching tiger, overseeing governance and grain supplies; and Ling Yingxun, the Provincial Military Commander, who was an old acquaintance of Pei Mingqi—collectively known as the province's "Three Offices," all were his superiors.

One day, the Provincial Surveillance Commission suddenly issued an official dispatch, ordering Le Wuya to call up the case of Prefect Qian's drowning death and scrutinize it carefully.

The dispatch was personally signed by Provincial Judge Zheng Miao, showing how seriously he took the matter.

Le Wuya traced his fingertips over the letter, rubbing it thoughtfully for a moment before docilely following orders. He retrieved the case files on Prefect Qian once more, went over them again, and took the opportunity to bring Wei Yixian and Mu Jiazhi in to question them in detail about what had happened.

...This was a perfect opportunity to hear Mu Jiazhi's side of the story and confirm whether Registrar Zi had exaggerated or added flourishes to his testimony.

Upon hearing that Lord Zheng had brought up the old matter, Wei Yixian looked surprised but was secretly pleased.

Presumably, Lord Zheng had traced the investigation from the case of the farmer's death in Lingao County all the way to Prefect Qian's case.

It seemed that something good was about to happen.

Mu Jiazhi's mind was much simpler—he felt a sense of guilt toward Prefect Qian and thus had a deep impression of the case.

With a face as hard as iron, he narrated the case in a measured, unhurried manner.

After he finished, Wei Yixian wore a carefully calculated expression of bewilderment: "My lord, the case of Prefect Qian was already closed. Why would Lord Zheng wish to review the files again?"

Le Wuya countered: "You're asking me?"

Mu Jiazhi: "..." Fair enough.

"Well, I'm a latecomer to this post, after all. Even if the case of Prefect Qian were investigated to the fullest, it's not like I'm the one who pushed him in, right?" Le Wuya asked Mu Jiazhi, "Have you found Registrar Zi yet?"

Mu Jiazhi was lost in thought for a moment over the first half of Le Wuya's remark.

Back then, he had personally inspected the scene, and the testimony and physical evidence lined up, clearly showing that Prefect Qian had slipped and fallen into the water...

So why now...?

It wasn't until he heard Le Wuya mention Zi Yongshou that Mu Jiazhi snapped back to attention.

...Well, regardless of what happened to Prefect Qian, that man is gone now. Those who might still be alive were more important.

A hint of melancholy crept into Mu Jiazhi's expression as he replied: "...Not yet."

"How could a grown man simply vanish without a trace on his way home?" Le Wuya slowly waved his fan. "Registrar Zi worked late into the night that evening. It was almost curfew, and the city gates were about to shut."

Mu Jiazhi knew what Le Wuya was getting at.

On the day Registrar Zi disappeared, the gate guards had indeed been infuriatingly lax—some were drinking, some were gambling.

But if thieves had smuggled Registrar Zi out of the city that night, such a commotion would have been impossible for them to miss unless they'd all gone deaf and blind.

Since the thieves couldn't leave the city under cover of darkness, their best option was to go into hiding and keep out of sight until the next evening when the markets closed and the peddlers and merchants left the city—that would be their best chance to blend in and slip out of Tongzhou with Registrar Zi in tow.

But could they really hide a living person so easily?

And where would they hole up? How could they be sure no one would rat them out?

Moreover, on the day after Zi Yongshou disappeared, Le Wuya had requested that Registrar Zi be assigned to work under him, which quickly led to the discovery of his disappearance.

Seeing that Zi Yongshou was nowhere to be found, Mu Jiazhi, who had just taken over military affairs, acted decisively—he had the city gates sealed up like an iron bucket and completely replaced the garrison with fresh blood.

Since that day, any cart or carriage that could hide a person had to undergo strict inspection at the city gates.

Even families carrying coffins of their deceased out of the city for burial had to carry travel permits and household cancellation papers from the yamen for the guards to verify.

For half a month, Mu Jiazhi had kept a tight watch day and night without letup.

Yet Zi Yongshou remained like a clay ox sinking into the sea—gone without a trace, no sign of him living, no corpse of him dead.

But if Zi Yongshou had met an unfortunate end, that didn't make sense either.

Tongzhou was densely populated; there was no land that didn't belong to someone.

In such hot weather, a body wouldn't last two days before it started drawing flies.

After all these days, even if Zi Yongshou were buried three feet down, that spot would stink so badly that even a stray dog passing by would puke up its last meal—how could the neighbors not have noticed?

Le Wuya hit the mark and struck a chord with Mu Jiazhi: "From the looks of it, it seems Registrar Zi was hidden away by someone."

Mu Jiazhi gave him a cold glance: "Hidden away by you, my lord?"

Le Wuya closed his fan, pointed at him, drew two circles in the air, and squinted as if performing a spell: "Falsely accusing a good man will get you struck by lightning."

Seeing this, Wei Yixian let out a faint chuckle.

Mu Jiazhi couldn't stand Prefect Wenren's flippant demeanor, so he turned his face away and said no more.

Le Wuya continued to speculate: "Could it be that he wanted to emulate Master Tao and retire from office? Or perhaps he made a mistake in his duties, felt guilty and panicked, and fled the city to avoid trouble?"

At this, Wei Yixian let out an almost imperceptible laugh.

The city gate guards had indeed been extremely lax that day. If Registrar Zi had been alone, hunched his shoulders, and slipped out along the base of the wall before the gates closed, he truly could have vanished without a trace.

Mu Jiazhi said firmly: "Absolutely not!"

Seeing Le Wuya fix his gaze on him, Mu Jiazhi's iron-hard expression finally softened slightly: "Forgive my impertinence. He Qian... even if Registrar Zi were to resign from office, he would have informed me in advance. He wouldn't have left without a word. Besides, he owns no farmland, only a roof over his head. After resigning, he—a scholar who can't carry a load or lift a hand—how would he make a living?"

Wei Yixian listened to this earnest speech but was unmoved, laughing quietly to himself.

Shallow.

Mu Jiazhi is still far too shallow.

Mu Jiazhi is indeed a true standout in criminal justice.

But when it comes to selecting and employing people, he truly fits the description "great ambition, little talent."

Back when Wei Yixian decided to use Zi Yongshou as his trump card, he had already settled on a strategy of "baiting with money, pressuring with grudges."

Since he needed money to win people over, Wei Yixian had to know exactly what Zi Yongshou was holding.

Registrar Zi had served under Mu Jiazhi, an honest official, for years. Compared to other yamen clerks who had lined their pockets, he was quite poor. He'd put aside a little private savings, but it was pitifully small—every coin spent was a coin gone for good.

He kept that money tightly in hand, hidden in a flat, diamond-shaped box on the left side of an old stove opening at home—the box held all of Registrar Zi's savings from these years.

He kept this nest egg a secret; only Zi Yongshou himself knew where the money was hidden.

Wei Yixian had done his digging for a long time and hired a petty thief skilled at scaling walls. It was only when the yamen handed out monthly wages that he managed to spot the hiding place and learn the pitiful extent of Zi's savings.

Two days ago, seizing an opportunity, he sent the thief back to check again and found the box already empty.

…Which meant Zi Yongshou had been planning to skip town for a long time.

He quietly took his savings, left his younger brother in Mu Jiazhi's care—satisfying his sense of loyalty while finding his brother a new home.

He thought he could just slip away like that?

How naive.

Mu Jiazhi had no idea what Wei Yixian was thinking.

He paused, then went on, "As for the claim that Registrar Zi fled on his own, that's completely baseless."

"Oh?" Wei Yixian said casually. "Lord Mu, what makes you so sure?"

Mu Jiazhi shot him a glance and said coldly, "Registrar Zi and I have worked side by side day and night. I know his temperament well—mild and timid, not much of a go-getter, but not stupid. Even if he'd messed up and wanted to run, he would've asked for leave first and stalled a few days. That way, by the time anyone noticed he was gone, wouldn't he have gotten much farther away? Besides, he's deeply attached to his brother—he'd never leave him behind and go off alone."

Le Wuya joked, "If it's not this and it's not that, then maybe Registrar Zi ran off because Lord Mu was too hard on him?"

That obvious jab landed on Mu Jiazhi's ears and sent him into a deep silence.

After a long moment, he said quietly, "I was... a bit hard on him."

Le Wuya tapped the table edge with his fan and said magnanimously, "If he comes back, I'll make sure he gets extra pay."

Mu Jiazhi shot a quick look up, his eyes sharp: "What does my lord mean by that?"

Le Wuya said right away, "See, see—one glare from you and even I'm scared. Imagine a lowly clerk with no power or pull?"

Mu Jiazhi was left speechless, and a little guilty: "…Is it really that scary?"

Le Wuya shrank back, pretending to be hurt: "You scared me half to death."

Mu Jiazhi couldn't be bothered to respond: "…"

Seeing both men quiet, Le Wuya started thinking out loud: "Zi Yongshou couldn't have been dragged out of the city by force, and it doesn't look like he ran off on his own. He didn't pack his things, and he left his brother behind—so it's not like he resigned to retire. And in this summer heat, a corpse couldn't be moved out of the city, let alone hidden. So that leaves only one possibility…"

Just then, Yang Zheng came rushing in.

He said without preamble, "My lord, the Provincial Surveillance Commission's sedan has arrived at the office gate. Please go receive them at once!"

Wei Yixian was a little surprised: "Lord Zheng is here?"

Mu Jiazhi: "…" That was quick.

But after a moment, Mu Jiazhi let it go.

Lord Zheng had always been one to go his own way and think outside the box.

He'd sent a letter ahead, telling Prefect Wenren to review Prefect Qian's case files on his own, then showed up himself right after—for no other reason than to test whether Prefect Wenren was diligent in his duties and could follow orders to the letter.

In this world, there were corrupt officials and flatterers, but also lazy ones—those who never lifted a finger, indulged in pleasure, read barely any paperwork all year, and had all their letters answered by underlings.

Lord Zheng loved to mess with such people, finding ways to humiliate them.

Speaking of Zheng Miao, he was both a trickster and an upright man—call him righteous to the point of being twisted, and it didn't quite fit; call him twisted with a core of righteousness, and that wasn't quite right either.

Even Mu Jiazhi couldn't quite figure him out.

Fortunately, Lord Wenren was honest in his post and diligent enough not to fear his superior's inspection; otherwise, he'd be sweating bullets right now.

Meanwhile, Le Wuya's eyes went distant for a moment before he stood, straightened his robes, and strode out.

Mu Jiazhi and Wei Yixian followed Le Wuya out of the government office.

On the way, Wei Yixian, acting as his deputy, filled him in on this Lord Zheng Miao, who rarely sat still in the yamen: "My lord, this Lord Zheng passed the imperial exams in the fourteenth year of Tianding, courtesy name Sanshui, from Zhili. His temperament is a bit odd—please don't be startled."

"Odd in what way?"

Mu Jiazhi picked up: "Lord Zheng once risked his life, took on a false identity, had a broker sell him into a wealthy Zhang household, and following the trail, uncovered a case where the family's twin son and daughter took pleasure in abusing and killing their servants."

Wei Yixian: "That was when Lord Zheng was still the deputy provincial judge. It's been about five or six years now."

Le Wuya said quietly, "…Five or six years, huh."

With that, the group stepped through the doorway.

The sedan bearers lowered the sedan just in time, and out stepped an official in a round-collared red robe. There were traces of weariness around his brows, but because he smiled often and carried himself like a jade tree, his exact age was hard to guess.

What drew the most attention was a small braid woven with red jade beads tucked into the hair beneath his official cap.

He smiled before speaking: "Wenren Mingke, Prefect of Tongzhou... we meet for the first time..."

The next moment, he looked at Le Wuya, went speechless, and his ruddy complexion slowly drained to pale.

Le Wuya pretended not to notice and bowed respectfully: "Since the Provincial Judge has been busy with official duties, I failed to visit the commission to pay my respects—that's my fault. Please forgive me, my lord."

Miaomiao, it's been so long since we fell out.

Author's note:

When a cosplayer runs into the real deal.jpg