Chapter 160: Success or Failure (4)

As the first leaf of autumn drifted through the skylight of the prison, Wei Yixian's inner circle had already been hauled in one by one for questioning.

The day Ma Si was singled out from among the many servants of the Wei household, he had no clue Zheng Miao and Le Wuya were perched on a rock garden, getting witnesses to use a spyglass to pick him out.

As far as he was concerned, Master Wei Yixian was his whole world.

Since Wei Yixian had never taught him the principles of a telescope, even if someone told him there was such a thing as a "long-distance eye" in this world, he wouldn't believe a word of it.

By the same token, since the master never taught him about ghosts and divine punishment, he didn't believe in any of that either.

Whether he was pouring poison into Zhang Erlang's water jug or stripping the dead-drunk, out-cold Jin Ergou of his Daoist robes and chucking him into a ravine, his heart stayed just as calm—no different from butchering a pig or a dog.

Ma Si, as the most trusted of Wei Yixian's confidants, the cream of the crop of his inner circle, had steeled himself the very day he was thrown in jail to bleed and die for Master Wei.

Without Master Wei, his whole family would never have had the good life they had now.

Even if Master Wei decided to throw him under the bus to save himself, he'd take it!

He had to stay loyal to the man—he couldn't lose face or stoop low!

When Ma Si was marched into the interrogation hall with all that big talk in his head, he didn't get any torture, just a few surly clerks who gruffly asked if he'd seen any crooks scaling the walls.

Anybody who could be Wei Yixian's right-hand man wasn't some dummy.

At this point, Ma Si could've easily dragged Mu Jiazhi or the new Prefect Wen Ren into it to stir the pot.

But after thinking it over long and hard, Ma Si scrapped that reckless idea.

...Because every interrogation was done one-on-one.

Ma Si had no idea what the others had confessed. Scared he'd say the wrong thing and mess up the story, he decided to keep his mouth shut and tough it out, answering every question with a vague "dunno" or "don't remember."

Every time the clerks left, they were steaming mad, their faces all twisted up in fury.

Ma Si once overheard two clerks complaining through the door:

"Prefect Wen Ren's too damn uptight. If he'd just lay on the full torture, squeeze the truth out of those bastards like juice from a lemon—why worry they wouldn't spill their guts?"

"Young officials, they can't stand to lose face, always chasing a good name," the other consoled him. "Anyway, the case ain't going anywhere, and it's Prefect Wen Ren who'll end up failing to close it and catching hell from his bosses. We're just collecting our measly pay—no need to sweat the prefect's problems."

"Pfft, when the higher-ups chew someone out, won't it land on us for being useless?"

After overhearing the jailers' gripes, Ma Si let out a sigh of relief and couldn't help but feel a spark of hope.

Nobody's born a lowlife or born with an itchy back.

If he could dodge the physical pain, all the better.

Even if he was left to rot in jail, Master Wei, seeing how loyal he was, would surely take care of his family.

Just as Ma Si was feeling hopeful, two of the confidants got released.

Watching them stagger out of the cell with that pathetic look of being saved, Ma Si sneered with contempt.

Ma Si knew these two were nothing but bootlickers who followed the master to suck up—at best, when the master wanted to fish, they could bow and scrape to hand him a pole and bait the hook.

Being locked up with them made Ma Si feel insulted and looked down on.

A day later, the messenger who usually ran letters for the master was also let out of jail.

In the jail, only Ma Si and one other page boy were left.

He was a plain-looking but sharp kid, locked up in the cell next to Ma Si's.

He was always right by the master's side and knew a lot of Wei Yixian's dirty deeds.

Ma Si's biggest worry was this kid.

Sure, the little punk was now cowering in the corner without a peep, face pale, looking all innocent, but he was usually all sweet talk, pocketing plenty of the master's rewards, playing the lapdog in front of the master while putting on airs behind his back—really thinking he was hot stuff.

Ma Si often shot him contemptuous looks through the cell bars, silently warning him with his eyes so he wouldn't get any funny ideas.

If that ungrateful little bastard couldn't take the heat and dared to open his mouth to rat out the master...

But before Ma Si could figure out how he'd dish out justice if the little brat ratted out the master, the little punk was yanked out by two jailers, his feet barely touching the floor.

By evening, that cell was still empty.

Ma Si got antsy, scared the kid had broken under torture and actually spilled something. When the jailer brought dinner, he asked around the edges, trying to find out when the little brat would be back.

The jailer said casually, "He got let go."

Ma Si froze: "...Let go?"

"Nothing came up on him, so of course he's out." The jailer roughly slapped down a dish of veggies and a corn bun. "Eat."

Ma Si picked up the corn bun and brought it to his mouth.

It was super coarse, chewing like sand.

He swallowed it with his neck stretched, pounding his chest a few times before he could choke it down.

But it felt like something was stuck in his throat, stuck halfway down.

That night, Ma Si didn't get a wink of sleep.

He waited on pins and needles for two days until finally, another interrogation came.

When Ma Si was dragged into the torture chamber feeling like crap, he looked up and nearly jumped out of his skin.

This time, the one interrogating him was actually the prefect with the strange surname.

Le Wuya sat astride a bench like a general, smiling as he looked Ma Si over from head to toe.

After sizing him up until goosebumps covered his skin, Le Wuya pointed at him lightly with his folding fan: "Raise your right hand."

Ma Si kept his head down, playing dumb.

But the two attendants following Le Wuya were no pushovers.

He Qingsong stepped forward and grabbed his right hand hanging at his side.

Yang Zheng pressed one hand on his saber hilt, wary of the man suddenly attacking.

Under their combined pressure, Ma Si was forced to extend his right arm, and his clenched fist was pried open.

Le Wuya glanced at the missing piece of his fingernail, nodded knowingly, and said, "Alright. Take him back."

When the jailers grabbed him again, Ma Si finally snapped back to reality.

The Prefect wanted to see his right hand?

...What was wrong with his hand?

It wasn't until he was thrown back into his cell, amidst the lingering early-autumn heat, that he finally remembered where the slip had been.

...When he had gone to Lingao County on business, he hadn't listened to his master's orders. Seeking a bit of coolness, he had casually discarded the gauze wrapping that had been sweat-soaked and rotting on his finger.

It wasn't like he'd lost a whole finger—just a fingernail.

He saw it every day and didn't think anything of it, so he hadn't given it a second thought.

Ma Si, lying on the ground, suddenly shuddered violently, instinctively curling his damaged nail into his palm.

...It was futile.

The warmth in his palm drained rapidly, and he began shaking like a leaf.

Countless thoughts converged in his mind, only to scatter again.

He had botched the task—he truly let his master down.

What would his master think? Would he suspect his loyalty?

After all, the others had all been released one by one, indirectly proving their loyalty. Only he remained detained...

He curled up in a corner of the cell, drenched in cold sweat, paralyzed by a whirlwind of panic and fear.

Ma Si knew Wei Yixian extremely well.

Before today, he had taken pride in that.

But now, he wished he had never known the ruthless methods his master used to cut off all loose ends.

If he died in prison without talking, his master would surely treat his family well—even if only for appearances, to send a message to his other trusted men that serving him, even without a good end, would ensure their families received protection and lifelong comfort.

But now, it was his own screw-up that had given him away.

Once his master grew suspicious of him, then his parents, wife, and children...

...

While Ma Si's heart was in turmoil, Le Wuya, arms crossed, instructed the jailers: "Keep an eye on him. Don't let him off himself. I won't let him play the loyal martyr, understand?"

These low-level officials knew which way the wind was blowing.

They could already smell the political storm brewing in Tongzhou's government and hurriedly replied: "Don't worry, my lord, we've got sharp eyes. We promise he won't even get a scratch!"

Le Wuya nodded and sauntered out of the cell, swaying as he walked.

Zheng Miao, who had been resting in the shade under the eaves, stepped out and walked alongside him.

"Lord Zheng, wanna make a bet?" Le Wuya bumped him with his shoulder. "When's he gonna crack?"

Zheng Miao shot him a sidelong glance.

The way Le Wuya said "Lord Zheng," it sounded like a throwaway word—like "hey" or "dude."

He asked: "What's the bet?"

Le Wuya pondered for a moment, then slapped his fan into his palm with an innocent look: "How 'bout a spyglass?"

Zheng Miao pulled a spyglass out of his sleeve and handed it right over.

Le Wuya's eyes lit up: Just like that?

He reached for it without hesitation: "Well, aren't I lucky? Thanks a bunch, Lord Zheng!"

But Zheng Miao held on to one end of the spyglass, not letting go.

He said: "Answer one question, and it's yours."

Le Wuya stared at the spyglass, his greed written all over his face: "Shoot, Lord Zheng."

"I hear Prefect Wenren's got some Jing tribe blood in him too. You got any long-lost older brother out there?"

"Sure do, sure do!" Le Wuya agreed readily. "If Lord Zheng would give me the spyglass, I'd not only claim him as my long-lost brother—I'd even call him my long-lost uncle if that's what it takes!"

Zheng Miao: "..."

A vein in his temple throbbed a few times, and he began pulling the spyglass back: "Forget it. Not giving it to you."

Once something was in Le Wuya's hands, there was no getting it back.

He yanked on the other end of the spyglass and protested, all indignant: "You said you'd give it to me if I answered a question! How can you lie to a young guy who looks up to you so much?"

Zheng Miao: "..."

When he first entered government service, he thought having a flaky boss like Le Wuya was bad enough.

He never expected to have a subordinate like Wen Ren Ming Ke to deal with too.

He loosened his grip a bit, and Le Wuya immediately took the chance, slipping the spyglass into his sleeve in one smooth move, all while saying sweetly: "Thanks so much, my lord!"

Zheng Miao turned his head away, took a second to calm down, then turned back: "So, what was the bet again?"

Le Wuya grinned: "On when he'll crack."

"The bet's already yours," Zheng Miao said. "So, what's your take?"

"Scaring someone to death is a real thing," Le Wuya said as he walked. "The way Ma Si killed those two people so cleanly shows he's done this before—he's probably handled plenty of dirty jobs. Wouldn't surprise me if some of the people he killed were folks who'd screwed up jobs for Assistant Prefect Wei."

"Nobody knows better than him how cold-blooded Wei Yixian can be."

"But here he is, stuck in prison, with only heaven knowing his loyalty. How's anyone else supposed to know? Even if he bashed his own head in or bit his tongue off, would Wei Yixian really take care of his family?"

"The more loyal he is, the better he knows Wei Yixian. And the better he knows him, the more scared he gets."

"If Ma Si rats out Wei Yixian and gets him convicted, his family, being Wei family slaves, would at worst just get sold off again—there's still a sliver of hope. But if Ma Si dies here, with no one to testify, we're missing the key confession. With only circumstantial evidence, we can't prove Wei Yixian ordered it, and he'd get a chance to walk away clean."

"With the Wei family's deep pockets, he could easily become a Senior Secretary or just a rich man living in comfort. But would that compare to the power and influence he has now? When it came to that, wouldn't a petty man like him resent Ma Si for screwing up and getting caught, ruining everything and costing him his job? ...Ma Si's parents, wife, and kids are all born-and-bred slaves of the Wei household. These are exactly the chips Wei Yixian uses to make Ma Si risk his life. If Ma Si just dies and gets his peace, his family goes from bargaining chips to throwaway pawns..."

Le Wuya: "Since ancient times, how many discarded pawns have ended up okay?"

Zheng Miao went quiet for a moment, like he was remembering something from way back.

After a pause, he asked Le Wuya: "Ma Si's just a foot-washing servant. Can he really figure all that out?"

Le Wuya: "He was able to receive such an important task as covering up the murder by disposing of the bodies from Wei Yixian, so he must be more clever and resourceful than the average person."

Zheng Miao: "He could just as easily turn his back on his parents, wife, and children."

There are indeed many blindly loyal people in this world who believe they owe their master a debt they can never repay, and for their master's sake, they would abandon even their parents, wife, and children.

Le Wuya said with a smile: "Lord Zheng should trust Lord Wei's judgment in choosing people. If Ma Si were a cold-blooded, emotionless killer, our Lord Wei wouldn't risk using him."

He paused, then added: "Besides, if he truly wants to die, there's nothing we can do about it. So before he dies, let's toy with him a little."

Zheng Miao chewed over his words: "'Toy with him'?"

Le Wuya looked as if it were only right: "He's killed people, so why shouldn't I give him a good tormenting before he dies?"

Zheng Miao nodded: "Good. But we haven't turned up the heat enough."

He gazed nonchalantly at the blood-red sky on the horizon, and dropped a bombshell: "Let's turn up the heat."

After Le Wuya left, Ma Si's mood grew worse and worse.

He no longer sat glued to the corner like in previous days, motionless, but paced back and forth in the cell like a trapped beast, constantly gnawing at his fingernails, as if trying to chew them down to the quick in a pathetic attempt to destroy the evidence.

Meanwhile, Wei Yixian sat in the courtyard of the government office, in his usual rocking chair, but unlike his usual leisurely back-and-forth rocking, he was still.

His eyes were closed, as if he were asleep.

Hasty footsteps approached from the side.

His eyelids fluttered slightly, too lazy to open.

These days, he had already heard enough bad news; better to save his energy and focus on "finding a way out" of this mess.

However, the newcomer gave him no chance, stopping beside him and speaking urgently: "Lord Wei? Lord Wei?"

Wei Yixian let out a hot, annoyed breath through his nose and opened his eyes: "What is it?"

He wanted to hear what worse news awaited him.

"My lord, your house is on fire," said the messenger, a low-ranking clerk from the Household Office, who had come specifically to deliver the news. "Fortunately, it was discovered early, and Lord Zheng directed the scene, managing to contain the blaze."

Wei Yixian gave a bitter smile.

The reason his scheme had fallen apart at the last moment, when you trace it all back, was that Zheng Miao had found the still-living Zi Yongshou in the well of his backyard.

He refused to believe that the fire at his house at this moment was a coincidence.

"Where did it start? What was burned?"

The clerk said: "Nothing was lost—it started in the servants' quarters. People and valuables are safe, just a small part of the room was damaged."

Wei Yixian shot up from the rocking chair.

A sense of foreboding surged into his heart: "The servants' quarters? Which room?"

The clerk was startled by Wei Yixian suddenly springing to life like a corpse coming back from the dead.

He frequently visited the Wei residence to deliver messages and had a rough understanding of the household.

Still shaken, he reorganized his words: "It was Ma Sanbao's room... Ma Sanbao was sleeping inside. Perhaps a rat knocked over a lamp, and the curtains caught fire, with the door bolted from the outside. Fortunately, it was discovered quickly—someone raised the alarm and the fire was put out in time, so nothing serious happened. At the time of the incident, Ma Sanbao's wife wasn't in the room; she had gone to try to visit her son in prison and was raising money to bribe the guards. That woman is a total scatterbrain—she can't even remember whether she bolted the door herself..."

Wei Yixian stood frozen in place.

After a long moment, he began to laugh, a hoarse, desolate, and pitiful laugh that made the clerk's hair stand on end.

"I picked the wrong opponent," Wei Yixian said after the laughter, collapsing back into the rocking chair and muttering to himself, "There is actually someone in this world with more cunning and more ruthless methods than mine. Wei Jianzhang has no choice but to tip his hat to that."