Chapter 154: The Game (12)

The group filed in and took their seats in order.

Sure enough, Zheng Miao questioned Le Wuya, pointing out several details and asking whether he knew anything about the Prefect Qian drowning case.

Le Wuya answered with the essentials.

He had read the case files of Prefect Qian's drowning several times and had also asked Mu Jiazhi to recount the details, so his responses were extremely well-organized, clearly not the sort of perfunctory official who merely parroted the case files.

Zheng Miao nodded slightly. "Now tell me about that missing low-ranking clerk."

Instead of answering, Le Wuya countered with a question: "May I ask, my lord, what's the connection between these two cases?"

Wei Yixian: "..."

Mu Jiazhi: "..."

The two, who were usually at odds, both broke into a cold sweat.

Even if the Provincial Judge had said not to be so formal with him, this was really overstepping!

Le Wuya, however, thought otherwise.

He believed he was actually being very considerate toward Zheng Miaomiao's feelings.

Back when he had been Zheng Sanshui's immediate superior, he could have just skipped the whole "may I ask, my lord" bit and openly argued with him to his face.

—So back when I was your boss, you should've given me the same courtesy.

Zheng Miao was taken aback for a moment, and a bittersweet smile crept to the corners of his mouth before quickly fading.

Le Wuya stared at him with a sharp, aggressive stare, clearly determined to get a straight answer.

At Zheng Miao's signal, someone handed Le Wuya a case file.

Le Wuya took it.

As expected, it was about the poisoning death of Zhang Erlang, a farmer from Lingao County.

Le Wuya pretended he'd never seen it before, reading through the file from beginning to end, his brow furrowing more and more.

From across the file, Zheng Miao fixed his gaze on him, but his gaze seemed somewhat distant, as if gazing at a returned old friend through a dreamlike haze.

After finishing reading, Le Wuya let out a breath and signaled with a glance. Once Zheng Miao nodded his approval, he handed the file to Mu Jiazhi beside him.

Mu Jiazhi, confused, took it and began reading. After just two or three lines, his expression shifted dramatically.

By the time he reached the end, his hands were shaking uncontrollably.

"This is absolutely impossible!" Having barely finished reading, Mu Jiazhi stood up, fighting to keep his emotions in check, and said firmly, "Lord Zheng, He Qian and I were schoolmates. He's always been timid and gentle, kind to others. How could he possibly be involved in a murder case?"

Zheng Miao picked up his teacup and sipped it. "Liang Xian, are you putting your official reputation on the line for him?"

Mu Jiazhi said nothing, gripping the corner of the table, his fingertips trembling slightly and the veins on the back of his hand standing out.

Beside him, Wei Yixian took the case file from his hands and made a show of reading through the text, confirming that everything was developing as he had calculated, his confidence mostly restored.

Even Lord Zheng's personal intervention was something he'd anticipated.

The death of a mere farmer in Lingao County was nothing much on its own, but once connected to Prefect Qian's drowning case, it became a huge deal weighty enough to reach the emperor's ears—one that required someone as important as Lord Zheng to personally handle in order to keep things under control.

The man who had buried gold and silver in the farmer's backyard was named Ma Si, a servant bound to the Wei family by an indenture contract.

Ma Si's parents, wife, and children were all firmly under their control, so there was no fear he would rat them out.

Ma Si himself was a capable, loyal, and straightforward man who handled matters cleanly, with zero risk of getting caught.

"Liang Xian, don't be anxious." Wei Yixian rose calmly and placed a hand on Mu Jiazhi's tense, trembling shoulder. "Whether Registrar Zi is innocent still needs to be looked into thoroughly. Lord Zheng is doing this for your own good, telling you not to put your reputation on the line for his innocence. After all, you can know someone's face but never their heart."

His words of comfort were extremely sincere, full of feeling.

Mu Jiazhi's feelings welled up, and he brushed Wei Yixian's hand away.

Wei Yixian, though slighted, did not grow angry.

He knew Mu Jiazhi's temperament best.

This man was sharp-tongued and stubborn, didn't bother with alliances, spending his days buzzing around corpses and crime scenes like a fly. As a result, in his entire life he'd only ever had one so-called friend, Zi Yongshou.

The more he spoke this way, the more provoked Mu Jiazhi would become, and the more stubbornly he'd dig in his heels.

A lifelong friend, only one—and yet such a spineless coward.

Even Wei Yixian, who had never cared for Mu Jiazhi, couldn't help but feel a pang of pity for him.

Sure enough, provoked by his words, Mu Jiazhi's expression shifted through many changes before gradually settling into resolve. He clasped his hands and said, "Lord Zheng, I am willing to vouch for Zi Yongshou. We have known each other since childhood, our bond is as firm as iron, and I will never betray him!"

Zheng Miao narrowed his eyes slightly.

He cherished this stubborn subordinate, a veritable stinking stone in a latrine, and did not wish for him to risk losing his position and facing punishment over Zi Yongshou. "Liang Xian, choose your words carefully. No one is unchanging. I once had a dear friend, but he merely went on a long journey, and the one who returned was no longer him."

Mu Jiazhi clenched his teeth, his face turning pale.

In his moment of extreme unease, Le Wuya spoke up leisurely from the side: "The one who abandons another is the first to change. If even you won't believe him, then who else can?"

Mu Jiazhi's gaze darkened, and his chaotic breathing steadied somewhat.

Zheng Miao, hearing this sudden remark, felt his heart tremble violently. "If a man forgets his original heart and loses his righteousness, then he has first abandoned himself in the eyes of others and the world—how can he blame anyone else?"

Le Wuya: "But that's a friend—how can one easily betray them?"

"A gentleman makes friends through shared principles; a petty man through shared profit. Even if they came together, if the path has diverged, why must they insist on the same destination?"

"If one never even tries to walk the same road, but simply turns and leaves without a backward glance, then that is abandoning the other."

Zheng Miao felt a familiar surge of inexplicable anger rush to his head. "I—"

"My lord, I am consoling Assistant Prefect Mu." Le Wuya turned the question back on him. "What are you doing?"

Zheng Miao opened his mouth.

Yes.

On the day he had severed ties with Le Wuya, standing in the blazing sun, going back and forth three times before ultimately failing to push open that door and return to Le Wuya's side, he had asked himself this question many times.

On the day news of Le Wuya's death arrived, when he had stared blankly at the sky for a long while only to discover tears streaming down his face, he had asked himself again.

A year ago, when he had gone undercover among a band of river pirates under a false identity and unexpectedly tasted an especially delicious dish of boiled carp, thinking that Le Wuya also loved carp but simply disliked picking out the bones, he had asked himself once more—what exactly was he doing.

Once the paths have diverged, why can he still not resist the urge to walk the same road together with him?

While Le Wuya and Zheng Miao were at each other's throats, Mu Jiazhi had already composed himself.

He took the case files back from Wei Yixian and read them again.

The farmer Zhang Erlang was a key witness in the case of Prefect Qian's death by drowning.

After that case, Zhang Erlang kept his head down, feeling pretty down in the dumps for a while. Fearing a run of bad luck, he even shelled out money to bring in a traveling feng shui master, hoping to change his fortunes.

Whether that feng shui master really had any real powers or not, ever since he did his little dance and chant in Zhang Erlang's three rundown rooms, Zhang Erlang smiled from ear to ear every day, as if he'd swallowed a canary.

When folks asked him why, he wouldn't say a word.

In the days before he died, he suddenly, all smiles, invited all his neighbors over, saying he'd soon be moving away, buying property and land, and living the good life.

When the neighbors heard this, they were naturally curious and grilled him with questions.

But he wouldn't breathe a word, just happily sipping his wine.

Unexpectedly, his words still fresh in their ears, he met a violent end in his own home—blood seeping from his eyes, nose, mouth, and ears, his face twisted in agony, clearly the victim of poisoning.

After looking into the case, the magistrate of Lingao County learned from Zhang Erlang's scared-out-of-her-wits wife that, following the feng shui master's advice, Zhang Erlang had dug up a jar full of gold and silver from the southeast corner of his property.

Believing it to be a family heirloom or treasure buried by a previous owner, he was over the moon. Fearing his wealth would attract unwanted attention, he began inquiring about buying land and property elsewhere.

But before he could get anything done, he met an untimely end.

When the magistrate of Lingao County took out the gold and silver for inspection, he was surprised to find that the bits of silver were quite new in appearance, not at all like something that had been buried for a long time. Even the yellow paper sealing the jar hadn't faded—it looked like it had been buried just recently.

The magistrate then summoned Zhang Erlang's wife and put on a show of scolding her, demanding she confess the truth.

Zhang Erlang's wife was completely floored.

She was practically illiterate and had hardly ever left the village in her entire life. She'd never been through anything like this. Her face went pale, she collapsed to the ground in tears, and started crying out that she was innocent, insisting they'd dug it up themselves and she knew nothing else.

The magistrate, a man who'd seen all kinds of people, saw that although she was terrified, she didn't seem guilty. He looked at the gleaming gold and silver in his hand and the clay jar, and he started to feel uneasy.

...Zhang Erlang was a man who had a file in his county office.

His death was closely tied to Prefect Qian's death.

Knowing how serious this was, the magistrate of Lingao County didn't dare take it lightly. He forwarded the physical evidence and witness statements to the Provincial Surveillance Commission, and went door to door asking questions. In doing so, he accidentally stumbled onto a connection to Registrar Zi.

Mu Jiazhi pointed out a suspicious detail in the case files: "Your Honor, the files mention that after the farmer Zhang Erlang died of poisoning, someone saw Zi Yongshou appear in Lingao County, asking people about the Zhang Erlang case. How could a witness immediately recognize this newcomer as Zi Yongshou?"

Meanwhile, Zheng Miao had also pulled himself together and replied, "The folks in Lingao are all farmers, and the place is out in the middle of nowhere. Only peddlers, traveling doctors, and the like pass through, so when an outsider comes around asking questions, he's bound to stand out. Six months ago, Zi Yongshou had come to Lingao in connection with Prefect Qian's drowning case, visiting Zhang Erlang's neighbors to ask what kind of person he was. Because his surname was so rare, many people remembered him and called him 'Magistrate Zi.' At noon on the second day of the sixth month, Zi Yongshou returned to Lingao and asked two farmers he ran into about the case of Zhang Erlang's poisoning. One of them happened to be Zhang Erlang's neighbor, who had been talked to directly by Zi Yongshou. He thought the guy looked familiar at the time, and it wasn't until he got home that he remembered this was 'Magistrate Zi.'"

With that, Zheng Miao pulled something out of his sleeve: "To be thorough, the magistrate of Lingao County hired a painter, and based on what the two men each described, had two portraits drawn."

The man in the portraits had a long face, droopy eyes, and a small mole on his eyelid—unmistakably Zi Yongshou.

Zheng Miao asked, "On the third day of the sixth month this year, where was Zi Yongshou? The yamen's sign-in records for that day—let's have them pulled out and take a look, shall we?"

Mu Jiazhi silently gritted his teeth and ordered someone to fetch the records.

...But even without seeing the records, he already knew the outcome.

Zi Yongshou was a hardworking guy who rarely took leave. Since summer began, he had only requested two days off—the second and third of the sixth month.

The records were clear; there was no way around it.

"How strange," Wei Yixian chimed in. "If you ask me, there's no way Registrar Zi did this. According to the files, Zhang Erlang died at noon on the first day of the sixth month. Why would Zi Yongshou only hightail it to Lingao after the murder to ask around about the case? From Tongzhou Prefecture to Lingao County, riding a fast horse takes about half a day, but Zi Yongshou wasn't much of a rider..."

With that, he made a show of asking Mu Jiazhi: "Assistant Prefect Mu, am I right?"

Mu Jiazhi nodded silently.

Zi Yongshou was a timid soul and didn't dare ride a fast horse.

To get to Lingao, he would have to ride a donkey or hire a cart, which would take the better part of a day.

Mu Jiazhi remembered very well that Zi Yongshou had requested leave at noon on the first day of the sixth month.

At that time, he had indeed seemed a little out of it.

But Mu Jiazhi was busy compiling criminal cases to present to the newly arrived Prefect Wenren Yue, and was swamped. He didn't press for details, just said that leave was fine, but Zi Yongshou would need to spend the afternoon finishing up the work for those two days.

After that, Mu Jiazhi sat down and worked silently until the moon was high in the sky before taking his leave.

And according to the witnesses, Zi Yongshou had talked to them at noon on the second day of the sixth month.

This meant that Zi Yongshou, after leaving the yamen, had to get out of the city before the gates closed at dusk, head straight for Lingao, and ride through the night just to have a shot at arriving by noon the next day.

Why was he in such a frantic hurry, and why did he head straight for Lingao so deliberately?

"This is the weird part," Zheng Miao said. "Besides, Lingao is not under Tongzhou's jurisdiction. How did he even learn of this case?"

Le Wuya, who had been silent for a long while, suddenly spoke: "...It's as if the person pulling the strings knew that Zhang Erlang was certain to die on the first day of the sixth month, and sent him to Lingao to check if the guy was really dead."

Mu Jiazhi flinched at these words and looked up at Le Wuya in disbelief.

Just as Mu Jiazhi had only Zi Yongshou as a friend, Zi Yongshou was the same—a quiet, withdrawn guy with only Mu Jiazhi as a friend.

If there was anyone who he'd listen to, it could only be—

"Without evidence, Prefect Wenren should not jump to conclusions," Zheng Miao said. "Registrar Zi's movements are indeed suspicious. Even if he is not the true culprit, he knows something. Without finding him, we can't crack this case."

"Therefore, the most important thing right now is to locate Registrar Zi."

Mu Jiazhi and Le Wuya exchanged a look.

Before Zheng Miao arrived, they had been discussing where Registrar Zi might be.

Le Wuya then told him the whole story again.

Zheng Miao thought for a moment and asked, "You believe Zi Yongshou is still alive, just hiding somewhere in Tongzhou Prefecture, and has not left the city?"

Le Wuya said, "Yes."

"Not necessarily," Zheng Miao replied.

"Go on."

"If someone killed Zi Yongshou, chopped up the body, boiled it in a pot, made it into buns or stew, and fed it to people, then boiled the bones until they were soft and buried them—that would be a neat way to get rid of the evidence."

Wei Yixian: "..."

He silently put the pastry he'd just picked up back on the plate.

Le Wuya didn't even bat an eye: "It's indeed feasible. Mixing human flesh with beef, pork, and mutton in cooking—there's hardly any noticeable difference. There was a similar shocking case in Jiangzhou back then; it can serve as a cautionary tale."

"But it won't work in Tongzhou."

Zheng Miao: "Oh?"

Le Wuya held forth: "The murderous inn in Jiangzhou was located outside the city, long colluding with bandits to dispose of bodies for them. They built a slaughterhouse behind their pigpen with all four windows sealed shut to keep it hidden. To pull off such a scheme, one must have a sufficiently discreet location. There are indeed a few places in Tongzhou Prefecture where pigs and sheep are slaughtered, but for ventilation, they are never sealed off, and people constantly come and go—fearing thieves stealing meat, with too many people and too many eyes, it's hardly secretive."

"Secondly, human flesh is difficult to process; there's bound to be leftover hair, fingernails, and other stuff that's hard to get rid of. This isn't like the Jiangzhou murder inn, located in the wilderness, where travelers are in a hurry and famished—any hot meal is a blessing, and they won't chew carefully. If a small piece of nail slips through and someone bites into it, wouldn't that ruin everything?"

Le Wuya's analysis was thorough and logical, leaving Wei Yixian pale and on the verge of throwing up.

Zheng Miao nodded: "Prefect Wenren is well-informed. The Jiangzhou cannibalism case was a secret one; its details are not commonly known to ordinary people."

Le Wuya answered smoothly: "Jiangzhou borders my hometown. Even if the court intends to keep it secret, how can folk rumors be suppressed?"

Seeing that Le Wuya had an answer for everything, Zheng Miao asked further: "Then how do you know he wouldn't flee the city alone?"

Earlier, when discussing Registrar Zi's disappearance, Mu Jiazhi had been unaware of the Lingao case.

Now it seemed that if Zi Yongshou was connected to the Lingao case, he indeed had ample motive to flee.

Composing himself, he answered clearly: "Sir, I think it's possible, but not very likely."

Like he'd told Le Wuya earlier, if Zi Yongshou intended to flee, he would inevitably leave traces—such as putting in for leave at the yamen beforehand to buy more escape time; buying extra medicine for his younger brother; or going home to reassure his brother, claiming official business, and telling him where the family money was stashed, and so on.

In short, Zi Yongshou and his brother shared a deep bond. Over the years, Mu Jiazhi had witnessed it and knew that at least in this regard, Zi Yongshou really couldn't just cut ties and walk away.

Zheng Miao made the decision: "In that case, let's search the city first. The Provincial Surveillance Commission has seventy-two constables total; I left ten behind to watch the place and brought everyone else."

Wei Yixian interjected lazily with a chuckle: "Sir, forgive my bluntness, but won't this upset the people?"

"These men are trained by me; they wouldn't stoop to that kind of sloppy, scattergun nonsense," Zheng Miao said. "Start with close relations, then distant ones; start nearby, then farther out. After searching the homes of officials, we'll check brothels, theaters, and the like. If Zi Yongshou wants to hide, he'd surely stay with someone he knows well; if he's dead, with the weather this hot, the body would have to be kept in an icehouse or cellar."

With that, Zheng Miao turned to Le Wuya: "Prefect Wenren should lead by example—shall we start the search from your residence?"

Le Wuya: "...?"