Chapter 161: Success or Failure (5)

After receiving Le Wuya's orders, the jailer kept a close watch on Ma Si's every move, ready to stop him from attempting suicide at any moment.

When Ma Si's mother, Madam Wu, arrived hobbling on bound feet with a bundle to visit him, she pressed plenty of silver into the jailer's hand and said countless pleading words, but he still did not let her off easily. He tested the food with a silver needle to ensure it was not poisoned, and had Sister Li from the women's ward pat her down before allowing her in. He refused to leave, standing there like a watchdog with arms crossed and glaring, lest this old woman with bound feet pull out her foot-binding cloth and strangle her own son.

With such a gatekeeper standing there, Madam Wu did not even dare to shed a tear. She could only make idle chatter.

And so, she told Ma Si about the fire at their home.

Ma Sanbao had been asleep in bed and nearly burned to death. Suspecting his wife had barred the door from outside, he gave her a good scolding.

Madam Wu felt deeply wronged and poured out her grievances to her son at great length.

Ma Si had always been close-mouthed, so Madam Wu had no idea her son had committed murder.

Now that Ma Si was locked up, her greatest worry was that his loyalty ran too deep—that in a moment of blind loyalty, he would take the fall for Master Wei.

She brought up the fire specifically to remind Ma Si that without him as the family's mainstay, everything at home would truly fall into chaos.

But she did not know whether Ma Si understood her meaning.

Because while she told the story, Ma Si showed little reaction, shoveling rice cakes into his mouth without even lifting his head: "Mm, got it."

Madam Wu could not help but reach through the bars and poke her son's forehead: "Look at your mother when you talk to me!"

The jailer entrusted with Le Wuya's mission made a disapproving tsk.

Madam Wu was timid. At the warning, she immediately shrank back, clutching her empty bundle and gazing helplessly at Ma Si, who kept his head down and ate.

Ma Si wolfed down the meal, then chugged some cold water and commented, "Too salty."

Madam Wu collected the dishes and said with reluctance, "I saw Jiawang, He Da, and the others all back home. If you're okay, come home soon too."

Ma Si did not answer her. Wiping the oil from his lips, he instructed, "Mother, watch the candles from now on. ...Don't let anything else happen."

Madam Wu agreed readily and shuffled out, her bound feet carrying her away.

Ma Si watched her slowly walk away until she vanished from sight. Then he counted from one to ten in his mind, repeating the count about a hundred times, until he was sure she was long gone. Only then did he bang on the bars and yell.

The jailer rushed over and barked, "What are you howling about?! You wailing for the dead?"

Ma Si pressed his big head against the hard bars, his eyes hidden in the shadows beyond the lamplight, still facing the direction his mother had gone.

He said, "Get the Prefect."

The jailer sensed something was off.

He tried to feel him out: "It's this late. What do you want? The Prefect isn't someone you can just—"

To his surprise, Ma Si suddenly lunged, grabbing the jailer's collar through the bars with frightening strength, nearly slamming his head against the bars!

Ma Si's eyes, previously hidden in shadow, were now lit by the flickering corridor lanterns, bloodshot and burning like a vengeful ghost from hell.

His voice was low but fierce, as if afraid of eavesdroppers: "Go! Go now, get someone to keep an eye on me—I swear I won't kill myself! But don't tell anyone else, or I'll haunt your whole family as a ghost!!"

The jailer had observed Ma Si quietly these past days, thinking him a silent, honest man. He never dreamed the man could be this vicious.

His face turned pale. He didn't dare say another word. He brought in another trusted jailer to watch Ma Si, then hurried to the gate, whispered a few words to the constable posted by Zheng Miao, and the two of them disappeared into the night.

...

The next day, when Mu Jiazhi, who had slept in his clothes, opened his eyes, he was startled out of his wits.

Le Wuya sat at his desk, using his fan to prop himself up on the desk: "Ma Si's signed confession—care to take a look, Assistant Prefect Mu?"

Mu Jiazhi sprang up, skipped washing up, and took the document, reading it from beginning to end.

Ma Si's testimony was extremely detailed.

He mentioned that there were four protruding bricks on the wall of Zhang Erlang's house.

It was by stepping on those bricks that he had twice broken in to accomplish the two major deeds: "burying the valuables" and "planting the poison."

As for Jin Ergou, disguised as a wandering Taoist, he had watched Zhang Erlang actually dig up gold and silver from the ground. Astonished, his eyes rolled as he sensed something was amiss.

After the deed was done, nursing ulterior motives, he found Ma Si to collect the remaining payment—and to extort him on the side.

Ma Si played humble, coaxed him into a drunken stupor, then took him to a secluded mountain stream and threw him straight in.

The stream water was bitingly cold. Jin Ergou's senses jolted back for a moment. Panic-stricken, he flailed and screamed, struggling to stay afloat.

Ma Si found a long branch and forcibly pressed Jin Ergou's head, which had surfaced above the water, back down.

These details could not have been described by anyone who had not been there in person.

Even though he had long suspected it, seeing in black and white that Wei Yixian had ordered Ma Si to kill both Zhang Erlang and Jin Ergou still struck Mu Jiazhi with tremendous force.

Wei Yixian had deployed his household confidants, first killing Zhang Erlang—a witness in the case of Prefect Qian's drowning—then bribing Registrar Zi to equivocate on the Prefect Qian case. His aim was simply to use Prefect Qian's death to bring down Mu Jiazhi.

But that was not what truly troubled Mu Jiazhi.

He set down the document, composed himself for a moment, and asked Le Wuya: "My lord, was Prefect Qian's death truly an accident, or..."

Le Wuya: "As I said before. It wasn't me who killed him."

Mu Jiazhi: "..."

After a moment of speechlessness, a thought turned in Mu Jiazhi's mind, and he understood what Le Wuya meant.

Le Wuya's words were not wrong.

Because the matter could no longer be clarified.

Earlier, when Mu Jiazhi had handled the case of Prefect Qian's drowning, he had investigated everything there was to investigate. Finding nothing, he had closed the case as an accident.

Wei Yixian, in order to drag Mu Jiazhi down, had chosen to use the Prefect Qian case as his vessel.

Now, with his scheme exposed, it was Wei Yixian himself who could not clear his name.

After all, who knew whether this "vessel" had not been crafted by Wei Yixian's own hands from the start?

Le Wuya stood up: "Assistant Prefect Mu, things have come to this. Overthinking serves no purpose. Better to focus on the tasks at hand."

He twirled his fan: "Last night, the moment the confession was obtained, Lord Zheng had everyone in the Wei household thrown into prison. But this involves a Prefectural Assistant—a fifth-rank Imperial Official after all. To truly confiscate property and pass sentence, we still need the Emperor's vermilion seal. ...Our Lord Zheng must make a trip to the capital."

Hearing that Wei Yixian was already imprisoned, Mu Jiazhi stood up as well.

His voice carried a dependence and trust he himself had not realized: "Is the Prefect going?"

"Not going. I'll stay here to keep things in order." Le Wuya patted his shoulder. "From now on, all matters of Tongzhou Prefecture will require our joint efforts."

He pressed his warm palm onto Mu Jiazhi's shoulder, massaging it with a skillful squeeze.

"Assistant Prefect Mu, I've never said this before, but it's not too late to say it now."

"...I look forward to your guidance in the days ahead."

The Assistant Prefect gazed into his utterly sincere eyes, said nothing, and lifted his robe to bow deeply.

This time, it was genuine respect and total submission.

...

Le Wuya hummed a tune, in high spirits as he left Mu Jiazhi's residence, intending to check on his garrison soldiers.

After these days of training, he had a rough idea of their caliber—whether they were up to par.

In two more days, he would send back a batch of soldiers who didn't measure up, and have his subordinates select better ones.

Once these soldiers returned, they would serve as his walking advertisement.

Once word got out that being a garrison soldier meant a good life, many military households would covet the chance.

Le Wuya had seen and heard from a young age that one of the chronic problems of the Dayu army was that low-ranking soldiers had little chance of advancement, most handing down the rank of common soldier from generation to generation. The lower ranks were rife with a pervasive reluctance to fight, as stagnant as a dead pool, only regaining a hint of bravado when bullying ordinary folk.

Now, Le Wuya had opened a channel for advancement.

Those with ambition would surely scramble desperately to rise.

Le Wuya liked ambitious people—they meant boundless energy and potential.

If one doesn't struggle against heaven, earth, and fate, what joy is there in existence?

As he happily plotted his next moves, someone patted his shoulder from behind.

Le Wuya turned around.

The person behind him was no surprise at all.

Besides Zheng Miao, no one in the yamen dared to be so presumptuous with Le Wuya these days.

However, today Zheng Miao wore his hair in a tidy topknot and had left off that strand of red jade beads.

He came straight to the point: "I'm about to leave now."

Le Wuya showed a look of regret: "Ah, what a pity."

"Spare me the act." Zheng Miao called him out without mercy. "You're quite pleased, aren't you?"

Le Wuya: "How could you think that?"

Zheng Miao: "When I go to the capital to see the Emperor, he'll only be concerned with whether Prefect Qian's death was truly an accident. Who will care about how Zi Yongshou ended up in Wei Yixian's house?"

Le Wuya shook his head: "Lord Zheng, Ming Ke fails to grasp your meaning."

After all this time, if Zheng Miao still couldn't figure things out, he'd have wasted all his years in the penal system.

He prompted: "The cellar."

Le Wuya feigned surprise: "What cellar?"

Then, as if a light had dawned: "Lord Zheng means you suspect me of hiding Zi Yongshou in the cellar of my house?"

Zheng Miao: "I still don't know how you found out that Wei Yixian was planning to move against Zi Yongshou. But given Wei Yixian's ruthless methods, how foolish would he have to be to hide Zi Yongshou in the well in his own backyard?"

"Lord Zheng, you speak in error." Le Wuya smiled pleasantly. "You've tried cases for years—surely you know the saying, 'Even the wise can err'?"

Zheng Miao: "He commanded the military forces of Tongzhou Prefecture. Spiriting someone away would have been a simple matter for him."

Le Wuya: "But before he could make his move, the military power was handed over to Assistant Prefect Mu."

"How could such a coincidence occur?"

"It was no coincidence. It was because the magistrate of Yunliang County conspired with the military to commit murder. For the sake of expediency, I made the decision myself to temporarily hand military power to Assistant Prefect Mu. He couldn't have anticipated that."

"As Liang Xian reported, it was you who flagged the irregularities in the Yunliang County case that resulted in the case being overturned."

"Yes, as a newly appointed official, reviewing case files is a matter of course. What's suspicious about that? That case was a miscarriage of justice. How could I in good conscience let an injustice stand? How could I have predicted and exploited this case to divest Assistant Prefect Wei of his military authority? And how could I have smuggled Zi Yongshou into Wei's residence undetected?"

After this barrage of four questions, Le Wuya declared in a clear voice: "Heaven willed his downfall. How am I to blame?"

He declared this with absolute conviction, fearless even before the Son of Heaven.

After all, it was always drawing the target after the arrow is shot.

If he wanted to bring Wei Yixian down and make him reap what he sowed, Le Wuya had no shortage of methods.

Exploiting a wrongful case to strip him of his military power and seal his sources of information was merely a strategic move to steer events.

If that gambit failed, he could always resort to another.

While Zheng Miao mulled it over, Le Wuya said with candor: "If Lord Zheng is still uneasy, by all means have my cellar thoroughly searched. We have a long association ahead—we must not let such matters sow distrust between us, don't you think?"

A vein in Zheng Miao's temple pulsed: "...You simply don't want to deal with that mud-caked cellar of yours."

Le Wuya said with mock indignation: "Lord Zheng, I am grievously wronged."

Zheng Miao couldn't suppress a hearty laugh.

Even if he did search, he'd uncover nothing.

Even if Zi Yongshou had truly been in that cellar, the silt from the lotus pond would have erased every trace.

Zheng Miao thought, if it were Le Youque, with his cunning and guile, could he have pulled off what Wen Ren Ming Ke had achieved?

He reached the answer without hesitation: Le Youque could.

He had the wherewithal to do away with that wastrel surnamed Liu, along with his patron Jin Donglai who shielded him.

Even in the capital, right under the Emperor's nose, he could do it—it would merely require more time and more meticulous scheming.

If he chose that path, Zheng Miao would surely stand by him to the bitter end.

Why didn't he do it?

Why wade into the fray himself and slay that surnamed Liu en route to exile?

Previously, Zheng Miao had neither dared nor wished to contemplate it.

During these two days, by Wen Ren Ming Ke's side, he finally dared to think about it all.

...Le Wuya must have known his body was failing.

He feared he wouldn't live to see the day Jin Donglai was completely uprooted.

So he simply killed the man first, making him pay in this lifetime.

And two years after their falling out, Le Wuya was convicted and imprisoned, dying in jail.

Before that, Le Wuya had made sure everyone in the capital's official circles knew he'd cut ties with Zheng Miao, so everyone knew the two had a spectacular falling out.

And precisely because of that, the fallout from his downfall didn't touch Zheng Miao at all.

Zheng Miao looked at this face, so eerily similar to his old friend's, and felt a flood of emotion, then held out a brand-new string of red sandalwood beads: "Here's something for you."

Le Wuya was startled, then took them and turned them over in his palm for a moment: "Thank you, Lord Zheng. I haven't even had the chance to pay my respects to you—why are you giving me this?"

Zheng Miao: "Just take it. You always have too much to say."

Le Wuya gripped the beads tightly but still found something to complain about: "Why aren't they jade?"

Zheng Miao looked away: "These suit you."

All these years, he'd worn red jade instead of red sandalwood, weaving it into his hair and copying his mannerisms—but it was always a poor imitation, like trying to draw a tiger and ending up with a dog.

But this—this was just right.

Zheng Sanshui was Zheng Sanshui—he liked things plain and simple, liked the steady, quiet flow of life.

Only people like Le Youque and Wen Ren Ming Ke could pull off such a bold, flashy red.

...

After seeing Zheng Miao off, Le Wuya returned to his residence, let down his long hair, and studied himself in the mirror.

Curly hair, laughing eyes, a mole by his lip.

He held the red sandalwood beads up to his hair, trying them on.

With this added touch, he looked even more like him.

Le Wuya deftly split off a strand of his braid and wove the red sandalwood beads into it.

His soft, curly black hair and the vivid red beads set each other off, giving off a striking sheen.

Once he was all put together, Le Wuya stepped out the door in his new look.

As luck would have it, the moment he stepped out, someone was crouched silently on the wall of his inner courtyard, one hand on a willow branch, looking for a place to land.

He looked up, and their eyes met in mid-air.

Le Wuya smiled.

—This was his secret weapon.

A while back, Jiang He had delivered "Caressing Light" on behalf of the Sixth Prince.

Since he hadn't gotten a reply from Le Wuya, he'd stayed in Tongzhou.

While waiting, he'd gone ahead and done Le Wuya quite a few favors.

For instance, following Zi Yongshou's description, he'd moved the stash hidden in the stove hole somewhere else, throwing Wei Yixian off the scent.

For instance, he'd swiped some pots and pans from the Wei residence for Zi Yongshou, who was locked up in the cellar.

For instance, under cover of night, he'd returned the used pots and pans to their rightful place—down the Wei family's old well—and thrown in a bonus: the very much alive Zi Yongshou.

Jiang He had heard that the difficult Lord Zheng had already left, so he planned to sneak into the residence, grab the reply for the Sixth Prince, and head back to the capital to report.

But the moment he climbed over the wall, he froze.

Jiang He saw the man with red sandalwood beads woven into his hair standing beneath the silk tree in the late summer air.

Pale pink, feathery petals drifted down on the breeze, landing on his shoulders and hair, making the beads gleam all the more brightly.

As if sensing something, he looked up, cocked his head, and smiled at him.

Jiang He was stunned for a second: "Little..."

The next second, his foot slipped, and he went tumbling off the wall.

Le Wuya's pupils contracted: "..."

He'd worked so hard to set this whole thing up! Jiang He had better not go and hurt himself in his courtyard!!!