Chapter 159: Success or Failure (III)

Ma Si, along with several other household servants who were considered close confidants of Wei Yixian, was taken into the Tongzhou Prefecture prison.

Ma Si didn't know the real reason for his detention, but after the initial panic subsided, he calmed down.

Although they were held in separate cells, they were fortunately close enough to see each other. Even if they didn't dare talk openly or pass messages, just being able to see one another was a silent encouragement.

Le Wuya had specifically ordered that these men not be tortured.

Whoever confessed first would go free.

Otherwise, they'd all rot here together.

After nervously getting through the first few days, these confidants gradually relaxed and, as if by unspoken agreement, clammed up.

As long as they kept their mouths shut, they'd be the Wei family's greatest heroes!

Lord Wei would never leave them hanging!

While these men sat in prison full of hope, Zheng Miao had already sent Ma Si's portrait to Lingao County overnight.

Within just two days of asking around, a farmer recognized Ma Si as having been to Lingao.

It was the twenty-ninth of the fifth month, and the weather was getting hotter by the day. The man had disguised himself as a peddler and come near the village where Zhang Erlang lived. He didn't hawk his wares, just set his cheap goods at his feet, his eyes and most of his face hidden in the shadow of his bamboo hat.

All he sold was rouge and face powder—neither practical nor affordable for farmers who spent their days bent over the fields. Naturally, business was slow, and nobody came to buy.

The young tenant farmer who came forward to testify had been one of the peddler's few customers.

His wife's birthday was on the thirtieth of the fifth month. He wanted to please her, but he didn't have much money to spare, so he squatted down and picked through the goods for a good long while.

He'd even exchanged a few words with this "peddler," suggesting he go get some cheap printed cloth instead—young women and married ladies alike loved that stuff, and it would sell much better than rouge and powder.

The quiet peddler had politely agreed.

When asked when the peddler had left Lingao, the tenant couldn't say for sure.

The constable then asked if the man had any other distinguishing features.

The tenant scratched his head and hesitated for a long moment before saying, "His hands were pretty pale... and one of his fingernails was missing a piece. Does that count?"

He'd caught a glimpse of it when taking his copper change from the man's hand—the middle finger of his right hand had no nail, just a ring of grimy, tender flesh. The tenant had even clicked his tongue in sympathy, feeling the man's pain.

At these words, the investigating constable knew the matter was seventy or eighty percent true.

Because the portrait he carried only showed Ma Si's face—no details about pale hands or a missing nail.

The constable got the partially used rouge from the tenant and, following the mark on the bottom of the jar, went to Lingao county town and found a general store tucked away in a corner.

This was where the peddler had gotten his goods.

The small shopkeeper also had an extremely vivid impression of Ma Si.

The man had come to him and specifically picked out a bunch of slow-moving rouge and powder to sell.

The greedy shopkeeper had seized the opportunity to fleece him blind. To his surprise, the man seemed unfamiliar with market prices and barely haggled before agreeing, paying the full amount upfront without any trouble.

For such a sucker, the shopkeeper was only too happy and hoped he'd come back.

In the shopkeeper's ledger, the sale date of this batch of rouge and powder was clearly recorded.

It was exactly five days before Zhang Erlang died of poison.

The investigating constable sent the witness, testimony, physical evidence, and ledger back to Tongzhou by fast horse for Zheng Miao to question and review.

With this lead, Zheng Miao questioned other servants of the Wei household and learned that Ma Si was four years older than Wei Yixian and had served him since childhood. When Ma Si was young, while accompanying Wei Yixian on a mountain climb, he had accidentally torn off the nail of his right middle finger. It had apparently damaged the nail root, and the nail on that finger had never grown back since.

Seeing that the circumstantial evidence was complete, Zheng Miao believed there was no need to keep pushing for Ma Si's confession—he could convict him directly with the witnesses and physical evidence.

Le Wuya, munching melon seeds on the side, suggested, "My lord, no rush. Why not have a little fun with him first?"

Zheng Miao looked at him.

Le Wuya generously pushed his melon seeds over to Zheng Miao. "After all these days of working together, what does Lord Zheng think of Assistant Prefect Wei as a man?"

Zheng Miao grabbed a few seeds and slowly shelled them. "...Quite shrewd, and good at managing his men."

So much time had passed, and still not a single one of them had turned on him.

Or rather, they all held out hope that Wei Yixian would turn his luck around and survive this ordeal.

Wei Yixian was too fine a tree to seek shade under—unless absolutely forced, this troop of monkeys wasn't yet willing to scatter.

He shelled the seeds but didn't eat them, instead lining them up one by one in an empty tea tray.

In Le Wuya's experience, Zheng Miao didn't much care for snacks; when busy, shelling seeds was just a way to relax.

Le Wuya stared longingly at the shelled seeds, scheming how to slide the tea tray over to his side, while saying with a bright smile, "Since Wei Yixian is both meticulous and good at managing his men, wouldn't he have thought to have Ma Si properly conceal that distinguishing feature?"

Zheng Miao waited for him to go on.

Le Wuya didn't hold back and laid out his speculations one by one.

Wei Yixian knew Ma Si had a nail that would never grow back, so he would surely have told him to conceal it—wear gloves, or wrap it in gauze and pretend his middle finger was injured, so nobody would remember his features.

However, Wei Yixian himself had to stay in Tongzhou and couldn't be at Ma Si's side at all times to supervise.

Late fifth month and early sixth month was the sweltering rainy season.

Any normal person would know that wearing gloves in that heat was stifling and uncomfortable; and if you wrapped the fingertip in gauze, loose wrapping would easily slip off, while tight wrapping would cut off circulation—truly a pain.

So Ma Si decided to relax a little behind his master's back.

Even if someone caught a glimpse or two, what harm could it do?

After all, Ma Si had always worked in the inner quarters of the Wei residence, never stepping outside the main gate or the second gate, responsible only for preparing Wei Yixian's wash water and footbath water.

Logically, as long as no one entered the Wei residence to search, his face would never be at risk of exposure.

But then, Zi Yongshou, who had inexplicably appeared in the Wei family's dry well, threw all of Ma Si's and Wei Yixian's careful plans into chaos.

Le Wuya saw the pile of shelled melon seeds growing ever larger in the tea saucer and secretly rejoiced, his words carrying a lively, playful tone: "Whether it's the inn waiter, the tenant farmer who bought goods, or the shopkeeper—what they've given is all circumstantial evidence. They can convict Ma Si, but they may not necessarily implicate Wei Yixian."

Zheng Miao asked, "Is this why Prefect Wenren advised me to detain all of Wei Yixian's confidants, including Ma Si?"

"Exactly." Le Wuya flourished his small fan. "Let him confess on his own and watch the dogs bite each other—wouldn't that be far more entertaining?"

Zheng Miao nodded slightly in approval. "Prefect Wenren indeed has a talent for criminal investigation and judgment. This official awaits with keen interest."

With that, he picked up the tea tray, tipped the twenty-odd shelled melon seeds into his mouth in one go, then pushed the empty tray toward Le Wuya and strode off with a swagger.

Le Wuya was speechless.

So stingy! Such a cheapskate! Keeping it all to himself!

He puffed out his cheeks in a huff, glaring at the empty tray, sulking.

Scholar Ming was always the nicest to him!

When Zheng Miao reached the central courtyard, he turned back silently, his gaze resting on Le Wuya with a barely concealed hint of nostalgia.

After a moment, he called out, "Wang Cheng!"

Wang Cheng seemed to have popped out of thin air; in an instant, he stood before Zheng Miao, straight as a silver spear.

Zheng Miao: "Anyone got nothing to do?"

Wang Cheng: "Just say the word."

"If there's someone free, tell them to wash their hands, shell two catties of fresh melon seeds, and deliver them to Wenren Zhi Fu," Zheng Miao said. "...To give his brain a boost."

Wang Cheng replied, all business: "Sir, two catties of melon seeds might make him overheated."

Zheng Miao gave him a look.

Wang Cheng quickly complied: "Yes, sir."

After accepting the order, Wang Cheng said candidly, "You really look after Wenren Zhi Fu."

"Yes," Zheng Miao replied with equal candor, "Wenren Ming Ke bears a striking resemblance to that friend of mine with whom I severed ties."

Wang Cheng: "...?"

For once, he was genuinely puzzled: "Sir, then why do you still treat him so well?"

Zheng Miao felt he'd heard a foolish question, looked back at Wang Cheng, and said with utter matter-of-factness: "We fell out over different principles, went our separate ways—that's all. It doesn't mean I've stopped caring about him."