Chapter 153: Righteous Severance

When Le Wuya was still Le Wuya, he received the emperor's decree and passed both the provincial and metropolitan examinations within a mere two years, ascending the palace hall in the fourteenth year of Tianding.

On the day of the palace examination, the candidates wore blue-white robes and scholar's caps, standing in two rows flanking the Zhaoming Hall, heads bowed, expressions solemn and reverent.

Le Wuya stood at the very front, a small braid tied with red sandalwood beads tucked into his hair.

These red sandalwood beads were a gift he'd just received.

The day before, the two kids had snuck out of the palace, claiming they came to send him off for the exam, and presented him with this string of beads.

Xiang Zhi proudly butted in to take credit: "I bought the beads!"

Xiang Zhijie pressed his lips together, looking a little sheepish: "I... I blessed them."

Xiang Zhi shot him a glance and called him out: "Sixth Brother, don't pat yourself on the back. You haven't attained enlightenment or become immortal—what blessing could you possibly do? At best, you chanted a sutra over my beads."

Xiang Zhijie was rarely this eager, leaning in toward Le Wuya: "Teacher, I, I was very devout. I followed... followed the blessing ritual exactly, not a single detail out of place."

Le Wuya loved such bright little trinkets, wrapping them around his wrist to admire them, and laughed: "One paid, one prayed—perfect. Tomorrow I shall surely be the top scholar."

He wasn't bragging.

Le Wuya had been personally selected by the emperor to sit for the examination, naturally favored by imperial favor.

Moreover, with his good looks, silver tongue, and having grown up in the capital, coming and going from the palace with his noble mother, he knew everyone there—eunuchs and examiners alike.

Everyone knew that as long as no mistake occurred, the top scholar spot was his for the taking.

Many candidates had heard of his reputation as a scholar.

Le Wuya had distinguished himself in the Bronze Horse Battle against the Jing tribe. Though he'd studied the classics and knew proper conduct since childhood, he'd switched from military to civil service—yet still managed to stand out and take first place among candidates who'd studied for a decade or more. This showed he was a dragon in water, a phoenix in the sky—not someone to mess with.

Ordinary candidates, knowing they were no match for him, were polite to his face but kept their distance inside, sighing at their bad luck to be taking the exam in the same year as him.

After finishing his paper, Le Wuya walked out of Zhaoming Hall right alongside another candidate who'd turned in his exam at the same time.

He'd answered everything smoothly that day, so he strutted ahead like a proud peacock, full of confidence.

As he walked, he suddenly heard a soft chuckle behind him.

Le Wuya turned to look and saw the candidate who'd submitted simultaneously grinning at the back of his head, not the least bit embarrassed when caught—instead, he looked right at Le Wuya and grinned even wider.

Most candidates entering the palace for the first time—led by eunuchs, surrounded by towering walls—would be nervous, too scared to act bold, keeping their heads down. But Le Wuya, who'd been in and out of court for years, didn't bother with such rules.

He smiled and asked, "What are you laughing at, friend?"

The man held back his smile and gestured vaguely at his own head: "Forgive me. I see you wearing red beads, striding proudly along—you kind of look like..."

"Like what?"

The man beamed: "Kind of like the little white goose I keep at home."

Le Wuya froze for a second, then burst out laughing, making the nearby eunuch nervously whisper: "Master Le, please keep your voice down, so this servant can do his job."

Hearing the eunuch address him so respectfully, the man got curious: "This eunuch recognizes you, sir?"

Le Wuya introduced himself: "My surname is Le, my name is Wuya, and my courtesy name is You Que."

Yet the man kept eyeing Le Wuya curiously, as if that introduction hadn't answered anything.

Le Wuya caught on: "...I'm the third son of General Zhaoyi, Le Qianzhang."

At that, the candidate's face lit up with understanding.

He nodded openly, no flattery at all, and with a smile, clasped his hands in salute and said, all proper and formal: "I'm Zheng Miao, courtesy name Sanshui, a candidate from Zhili—second son of Old Farmer Zheng of Huaiyin Village, Huaiyin County, Zhili."

Le Wuya broke into a grin, genuinely loving the way this guy talked, and grabbed his hand: "Come on, let me buy you a drink. Tell me about Huaiyin—the people, the places, the whole deal. What do you say?"

When the results came out, Le Wuya lived up to expectations and was named top scholar.

Zheng Miao ranked eighteenth in the second tier.

When Le Wuya was transferred to the Court of Judicial Review, he immediately had the nerve to petition the emperor to have Zheng Miao assigned to him.

Back then, Le Wuya thought: his first decade-plus of life had been a mess—muddled, full of sin, owing blood debts to family, losing old friends, calling a villain "father." Yet his adoptive parents had been good to him, so even when he wanted to hate and resent, he couldn't find a reason.

Now that he had his own household, he should make new friends, build good ties, and carve out a new world for himself.

At first, the two were thick as thieves.

They had similar interests and compatible goals. When Le Wuya got married, Zheng Miao was his best man.

Zheng Miao was a free spirit—didn't kowtow to the powerful, never did things the conventional way.

Once, Le Wuya gave him an urgent assignment.

Zheng Miao spurred his horse, in a hurry to get out of the city.

The city gates were about to close, the sky was dim—right on the line between letting him through and not.

The gatekeeper was one of those guys who loves to throw around a little power. Seeing Zheng Miao's low rank and rushed manner, he decided to mess with him—sneering, acting haughty, refusing to let him through while hinting he wanted a bribe.

Zheng Miao traded words with him for a bit, realized the guy was deliberately blocking him, and stopped talking. He whipped the gatekeeper to the ground, ordered his men to hold the guy down, and rode off into the dust.

Afterward, even though he finished the job perfectly, he almost got punished for hitting the gatekeeper.

Luckily, Le Wuya had sharp ears and quick reflexes. Before the gatekeeper could blow things out of proportion, Le Wuya filed a memorial taking responsibility and explaining what happened, while also petitioning to reward the "dutiful" gatekeeper—and that settled it.

Le Wuya was pretty pissed about this. When Zheng Miao got back, Le Wuya called him into the study and chewed him out, basically saying, "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

Zheng Miao had a temper too and fired back a long rant, basically saying, "I was doing your job for you, and you're mad? You should've saved me—if you didn't, you're heartless."

The two argued until their faces were red and their veins were popping.

After arguing, they went out to eat together.

Over the meal, they argued again.

Zheng Miao threw a chopstick holder at his boss; Le Wuya flipped a bowl of rice onto him.

Then Le Wuya bent down to pick up the chopsticks, and Zheng Miao scraped the rice off himself.

When they were done, they sat back down and kept eating.

Scenes like that were a regular sight at the Court of Judicial Review.

But after getting married, Le Wuya got more and more tied up with the imperial family, socializing constantly with capital officials, and slowly had no time left to drink and hang out with Zheng Miao.

After they both joined the Ministry of Justice, Zheng Miao and he grew increasingly at odds, and their arguments became more frequent.

Eventually, they fell into silence, with nothing left to say to each other.

The breaking point came with the case where that Liu profligate killed the Song woman in broad daylight on the street.

Le Wuya rode a hundred li at breakneck speed, killed the Liu profligate with a single arrow, then rushed back that same night. He fell ill afterward and was bedridden for days. Just as he was starting to recover, he got the cold shoulder from Pei Mingqi on the main street.

Back at the Ministry of Justice, before he could even catch his breath, Le Wuya heard that Zheng Miao had requested a transfer to a provincial post.

Le Wuya grabbed the osmanthus cakes he'd bought and hurried over to see Zheng Miao, only to find him packing his bags.

...He really was leaving.

When Le Wuya showed up, Zheng Miao gave him a slight nod and went back to what he was doing.

Le Wuya grabbed a little stool, sat down, and asked, trying to sound casual, "Why the sudden leave?"

Zheng Miao: "I just don't want to stay anymore."

Le Wuya reached over and tugged his sleeve: "Hey, who pissed you off?"

Zheng Miao did not answer.

Le Wuya didn't feel like smiling, but forced one anyway: "Come on, tell me. I'll get even for you."

Zheng Miao finally stopped what he was doing, turned around, and looked at him calmly: "After the Song woman's murder case was settled a while back, where did you go?"

They'd worked together for years; that one sentence said it all.

Le Wuya wet his lips: "So you figured it out?"

"What right do you have to take the law into your own hands?" Zheng Miao gripped the scroll in his hand, glaring at him, "Le Youque, what do you think the laws of our Dayu are for?"

Le Wuya shot back: "Under the law, do you really think you could've gotten him sentenced to death?"

Zheng Miao fired back: "Then why doesn't Lord Le, who posed as a bandit and killed a convict, have to pay with his own life? Or does Lord Le think he's above everyone else, playing judge, jury, and executioner—if you say someone dies at the third watch, they don't get to see the fifth?"

Le Wuya was quiet for a long moment, then asked, "If you knew I was guilty, why didn't you turn me in? Why abandon me instead?"

They went back and forth with questions, but neither of them answered.

But because they knew each other so well, they barely needed to answer—they already knew.

Only one question still had no answer for Le Wuya.

"He got what he deserved." Zheng Miao lowered his hand and said quietly, "You Que, you've let me down, but deep down, I don't want you dead."

"Since I can't be impartial, the least I can do is stay away from you."

Le Wuya stared at him, a thousand words on the tip of his tongue, but they all died in his throat.

After a long pause, he gave a faint smile, his eyes shining: "Brother, do you regret talking to that white goose that day?"

"I've never regretted it." Zheng Miao said firmly, "I loved the old Le Youque more than you do. But are you still him?"

"...You're not him."

...

Now, time has moved on, and Zheng Sanshui is still Zheng Sanshui—his looks haven't changed much, still laughing and cursing however he pleases.

...Except now he wears a red jade bead in his hair, like a white goose's comb.

Zheng Miao studied him for a long time, his gaze drifting, then sharpening.

After a brief silence, he asked, "Are you Wenren Mingke?"

Le Wuya clasped his fists: "Yes. This humble official is Wenren Yue. Greetings, Lord Zheng."

Zheng Miao stepped closer, studying Le Wuya's face more closely: "Prefect Wenren, no need to be so formal. I don't care for all that empty ceremony."

Le Wuya thought: Yeah, I know that all too well.

The second you threw that chopstick holder at me, I knew you weren't one for formalities.

Le Wuya went along with it: "Then please, come inside, my lord—it's pretty hot out here."

Zheng Miao stepped into the yamen, asking as he walked: "How old are you?"

"Twenty-six years, and not much to show for it."

"Where are you from?"

"From the Jiangnan area."

"I hear you're a juren? Bought your post with grain?"

"Yes."

"Why not sit for further exams?"

"This official isn't much good at the imperial exams."

"I hear you lost one of your clerks?"

"Yes."

"Found him yet?"

"No."

"That's embarrassing."

"Indeed, a person did go missing."

The two exchanged questions and answers—one firing off rapid queries, the other replying fluently, perfectly in sync, back and forth.

Mu Jiazhi and Wei Yixian were long accustomed to Zheng Miao's erratic, free-associating style of questioning, so they were not surprised.

Suddenly, without warning, Zheng Miao blurted out: "Has anyone ever told you that you look a lot like the late powerful minister Le Wuya?"

Mu Jiazhi and Wei Yixian both started, exchanging looks of surprise.

Though they had served as officials in the provinces and never met Le Wuya, they had heard his name.

That man's death had been utterly disgraceful—why compare the prefect to such a person?

"Yes, when I went to the capital earlier, someone mentioned it." Le Wuya asked frankly in return, "What is your relationship with Le Wuya?"

Now it was Zheng Miao's turn to fall silent.

He touched the red jade bead on his head, seemingly lost in reminiscence of the past.

"He was a good friend," he said in a low voice, "...though that was a very long time ago."