Chapter 313: A Clash of Schemes (8)

The truth behind Little Lotus Mountain was like a swarm of lice writhing beneath a fine brocade quilt.

Dansui County had always been peaceful, and Zhou Wenchang had a clean official reputation. His disaster relief efforts were considered proper even among frontline officials. Ordinary censors were content to keep the peace and would never dare pull back that curtain of concealment.

Of course, Le Wuya was not normal.

He ripped that quilt right off.

Once the lice saw the light, they had no choice but to scurry around in a panic.

However, dozens of trapped lice were all singing the same song, yet their accusations weren't aimed at Zhou Wenchang, but at Zhou Wenhuan.

Even though a few swore up and down that Zhou Wenchang was the instigator, when asked for evidence, they all clammed up, dumbfounded.

On closer look, not one of the officers involved could say for sure that Zhou Wenchang had anything to do with the mountain explosion.

He'd never personally given a single order.

The only one who'd received his instruction to climb the mountain and detonate the explosives was the book boy who'd grown up with him.

This guy insisted he'd gone over to Zhou Wenhuan's side long ago, and that it was Zhou Wenhuan who'd given him the order—to go all out, not caring if Zhou Wenchang died, only wanting Le Wuya dead.

Zhou Wenhuan had volunteered to stay at the county office just to keep his hands clean and scoop up the spoils.

According to the confession, Zhou Wenchang was clean as a whistle, betrayed by those closest to him and nearly killed by his own younger brother—the world's biggest victim.

In contrast, Zhou Wenhuan's hands were dirty, and he'd left a mountain of loose ends and paperwork.

The orders to have soldiers knock off the miners, to round up the miners and lock them up, to have all the explosives in the mine seized—all came from Zhou Wenhuan.

Where was Zhou Wenchang?

Ask about him? Oh, he was just busy with county business, knew nothing.

Before the "mudslide" at Little Lotus Mountain, Zhou Wenchang had indeed paid a visit, because of Niu Sanqi's death.

According to the soldiers who made it out, Zhou Wenchang had "took one look at the body," "shook his head," "held back a furious Zhou Wenhuan," and "dragged him off down the mountain."

Le Wuya listened, and the picture of Zhou Wenchang's spineless, doormat act popped into his head, and he couldn't help but snort in contempt.

That son of a bitch really knew how to play the part.

In Zhou Wenchang's home, Le Wuya had even found half a written memorial.

The memorial gave a truthful account of how Niu Sanqi died, looked like it got cut off mid-sentence by the mudslide, and he had to stash it in a hurry.

If he hadn't left the main text unfinished but clearly dated it, Le Wuya might've bought his innocent act.

So he was a loyal man, about to honestly report the truth about Niu Sanqi's death, just got blindsided by his little brother's cold, calculated scheming.

Evidence came pouring in, and just about every piece pointed at Zhou Wenhuan.

By the end, not just the soldiers—who didn't have two brain cells to rub together—but even the people helping with the case were confused.

Back at the county office, after sealing the news and scrambling around inside and out, Qin Xingyue, Wang Cheng, and Qiu Sinian gathered to discuss the matter.

Qin Xingyue ground his teeth and said: "Bullshit! A nobody with just a juren degree—how the hell did he have the guts? And the guys under him actually bought it?"

Wang Cheng, who'd seen a thing or two, said matter-of-factly: "Such people do exist. The emperor's not worried, but the eunuch is—people like that throw their weight around using their boss's authority."

"But... concealing the Mining Inspector's death and silencing hundreds of miners—that's a capital crime! Zhou Wenhuan isn't just dodging blame—he's grabbing it! That makes no sense!"

"It doesn't make sense," Wang Cheng said. "But it makes emotional sense. Look—after Zhou Wenhuan learned of this, did he turn around and bite Zhou Wenchang?"

Qin Xingyue fell silent.

Indeed.

When the news reached Zhou Wenhuan, he just stared off into space for a long time. Instead of getting upset, falling apart, or raising a fuss, he only kept asking when the court session would begin, like he was ready to sign a confession the second he walked in, dead set on taking this huge crime for his big brother.

Qin Xingyue felt like he was punching a pillow—totally helpless: "But no matter what, Zhou Wenchang is Zhou Wenhuan's brother. Even if he pinned it all on his little brother, wouldn't he still get hit with failure to supervise? Getting fired would be the least of it!"

Qiu Sinian, sitting nearby, scribbled on a piece of paper: "But doesn't this still save a life?"

Qin Xingyue was exasperated: "What a crap job! The Lord ran into danger, worked his ass off, and nearly got buried in that mudslide—are we supposed to just let the real culprit walk?"

The more he thought, the angrier he got. He threw a punch at whatever was next to him, and it happened to land on Qiu Sinian's thigh.

Qiu Sinian took the hit without flinching, even nodding along.

Qin Xingyue, though, felt like he'd punched solid iron, clutching his hand and hissing: "Hah! Hey, Brother Qiu, what the hell are you made of?"

Qiu Sinian wrote with a flourish: "Flesh."

Even in his sour mood, Qin Xingyue couldn't help laughing: "Brother Qiu, you're a riot!"

Instead of caring what Qiu Sinian was made of, Wang Cheng had another question: "Brother Qin, that wound on the Lord's neck—how did it actually happen?"

Qin Xingyue rubbed his wrist, not batting an eye: "The waiter at Niu's Inn barged in out of nowhere, scared the Lord, and a curtain hook caught him."

Wang Cheng: "..." You really expect me to buy that?

Did that waiter have a green face and fangs or something to scare the Lord?

The Lord's the one who scares other people.

But seeing Qin Xingyue's lips were sealed, Wang Cheng took the hint and dropped it.

Qin Xingyue didn't want to keep talking about that either, so he switched topics: "Little Wang, you're sharp. Tell me—if they hadn't messed with us from the start, would the Lord have dug deeper?"

Wang Cheng went along and changed the subject: "This whole thing was fishy from the get-go. By the book, the Lord shouldn't have been handling county-level disaster relief. Lord Wenren had his suspicions from the moment he took this on, so he was bound to dig deep."

"Isn't this the job the Censorate handed the Lord—"

The words slipped out before he could stop them, and Qin Xingyue's eyes went wide: "...Is it Lord Wang? Lord Wang deliberately sent the Lord into this mess?!"

Qiu Sinian put away his paper and brush, answering only in his head:

Not just that.

But Wang Cheng seemed to read his mind: "Not just that."

Qin Xingyue was already breaking a sweat: "There's more?!"

Wang Cheng shot a glance at Qiu Sinian.

If the emperor hadn't given the nod, why would this guy be here?

But since Lord Wenren was willing to let him and Qin Xingyue remain alone with him, without a care that even a word might slip out, it was clear the Lord trusted this man as well.

Wang Cheng couldn't figure out what connection this man might have with the Lord, so he let it go for the moment.

Unexpectedly, Wang Cheng remained silent, but Qiu Sinian went ahead and wrote a note: "The emperor's will is clear."

After writing it, he tore it up and ate it.

Qin Xingyue felt like he'd been hit by lightning, completely stunned.

He didn't know whether to first ask how Qiu Sinian knew about the emperor's will, or why the emperor was so fixated on the Lord.

The only thing that could keep the emperor's gaze so locked on him would be—

Qin Xingyue blurted out, "The Lord's appearance is just—"

Wang Cheng raised an eyebrow. "…Just as I thought."

Whether it was Lord Zheng or the guy on the throne, whether it was kind attention or nasty staring, it all came down to Lord Wenren's face.

Qin Xingyue fell abruptly silent, his scalp prickling with unease.

What the hell did the emperor want?

…

Meanwhile.

Le Wuya, who had taken over Zhou Wenchang's bedroom, was far less troubled than Qin Xingyue.

He lay beside Xiang Zhijie, casually flipping through stacks of statements: "So, what's your dad up to?"

Xiang Zhijie, wrapped in a thin blanket, had soft black hair that normally flowed over his shoulders, but Le Wuya, with his fidgety hands, had braided it into a bunch of little pigtails.

"I don't know." Xiang Zhijie was also busy cracking sunflower seeds for Le Wuya. "But this time, without my even asking, he arranged for me to come to Dansui for disaster relief."

The reason was ready-made.

Having just been assigned to the Ministry of Works, it was only fitting that he should gain some practical experience.

Le Wuya leaned over, snatched the freshly shelled seed from his hand, and said in a teasing tone, cutting to the chase: "Could he be planning to take us both out at once?"

Author's note:

Crazy busy with work lately—