Chapter 343: The Full Truth (Part One)

In the cool autumn season, it is fitting to take a stroll in the countryside, to meet under the moonlight, and also fitting for executions by the blade.

In order to send Wang Su off before the autumn execution period, the Court of Judicial Review and the Ministry of Punishments were run ragged.

Yet the Censorate, as one of the Three Judicial Offices, enjoyed a rare spell of leisure.

The reasons were quite simple.

First, the Censorate was deeply intertwined with the wrongful case of Le Wuya, and all documents from years past had been sealed and transported elsewhere for inspection, so it was only proper for them to step aside.

Second...

They could hardly send someone who bore such a striking resemblance to Le Wuya to investigate Le Wuya himself, could they?

Out of sheer boredom, Le Wuya made kites for Zhi Jie, while the Court of Judicial Review and the Ministry of Punishments blazed with lamplight through the night, officials large and small staying up till dawn, the rustle of pages turning rising and falling in waves, harmonizing with the swish of autumn wind sweeping leaves outside the windows, a tune all their own.

The case of Dansui was not particularly difficult to try.

Zhou Wenhuan, at the risk of his own life, refused to let go of Wang Su. Moreover, there was someone acting under Wang Su's name, wielding both imperial orders and the Censorate's authority, who, ever since Zhou Wenchang left the capital, had spent years egging on the Zhou brothers to build networks in Dansui, pass intelligence, and denounce others.

And Wang Su, residing in the capital, kept an especially close eye on Zhou Wenchang, who had long since resigned from the Censorate.

If it were not Wang Su corresponding with Zhou Wenhuan, but someone else impersonating him, not even a fool would buy that.

Yet this alone wasn't enough to finish Wang Su off.

What could truly ruin him beyond all hope was the old case of Le Wuya.

However, going through all eighty-two major crimes one by one was no easy task.

Moreover, the emperor's earlier move of mobilizing court officials to denounce and expose had indeed been a masterstroke.

Many officials either bore grudges against Le Wuya and took the chance to deliberately frame him; others simply went with the flow, offering up hearsay and wild guesses; and some had actual evidence.

They genuinely hoped that Le Wuya would never have his case overturned.

Although the emperor had, at the height of the storm, bestowed favor upon Le Jue, seemingly signaling leniency toward the Le family, these court officials were a force to be reckoned with.

Even Yu Xiuqun, not well-versed in the politics of the court, sensed that something was amiss.

He had always been devoted to his duties, didn't play politics or cozy up to the powerful, leaving others no way to get at him directly, so they turned instead to those close to him.

Lately, Lady Yu had been receiving an increasing number of invitations to tea parties in the back courtyard.

No one had tried to bribe her, but people would put on a show of being kind-hearted and nag in her ear, saying that there was a case at the Ministry of Punishments that was proving exceedingly difficult to investigate, a tangled web, and that if one were careless enough to offend the wrong person, living a quiet life in the capital would be hard to come by in the future.

Lady Yu's heart pounded with fright.

She was, admittedly, a timid soul. The prospects described to her terrified her.

But she was no fool.

Upon hearing such instigating words, she called for a doctor the very next day, claiming she had come down with a cold at a banquet and needed to rest in bed, promptly cut herself off from the outside world, and sat her husband down for a heart-to-heart.

When Yu Xiuqun learned of this, he was silent for a long time.

As for Zhang Yuanye, he had an even clearer picture:

The emperor was playing political games again, using this opportunity to see which side the court officials would pick.

If they didn't line up the way he wanted, he would remember each one and settle the score later.

As for Le Wuya himself, he seemed hardly enthusiastic about overturning his case—whether deliberately avoiding the matter or simply thinking it wasn't his problem, so why bother, Zhang Yuanye could not say, nor did he feel comfortable asking him directly. He could only sigh inwardly:

If you don't know the answer yet, at least make the sound of flipping pages louder for now.

Unexpectedly, the one to come up with a way to break the deadlock was an official loaned from the Hanlin Academy to help out with the proceedings.

The current deputy chief of the Court of Judicial Review proposed this approach to Zhang Yuanye: "...Why not spread word that we are not seeking to overturn the case, but merely to retry it. Wherever there is doubt, we give the benefit of the doubt, refuse to admit it, and pin the blame on Wang Su, saying he cooked up the charges and framed him. We will only focus on pursuing the crimes Le Wuya actually committed."

"As long as we can prove that Le Wuya's death was not unjust, and let Wang Su bear the weight of the major crimes, we save the emperor's face and keep the officials' reputations intact, and no one will bear us a grudge later. What do you think of this plan?"

Zhang Yuanye's eyes lit up: "Whose idea is this?"

"Ming Xiangzhao."

Zhang Yuanye had been so swamped he was about to pass out, and asked without thinking: "Which Ming Xiangzhao?"

The deputy chief of the Court of Judicial Review chuckled: "Boss, you must be losing your mind from all this work! Which Ming Xiangzhao could it be? The emperor's personally chosen top scholar from this year's exams."

"How did he end up here?"

No sooner had the words left his mouth than Zhang Yuanye slapped his head, which was crammed with case files and fogged with fatigue:

He must have lost his mind!

The case of Le Wuya involved old archives from years past, as well as memorials submitted to the emperor.

These confidential documents were all kept and filed by the Hanlin Academy.

It made perfect sense that they would send someone to oversee and assist.

Zhang Yuanye thought sincerely: Fresh from the exams, that guy's brain is still sharp!

Since it was Ming Xiangzhao who had proposed the plan, the most troublesome task of distinguishing which cases were genuine and which were fabricated naturally fell to him.

Zhang Yuanye had intended to assist from the sidelines, but Ming Xiangzhao seemed blessed by the gods, and within two days, he presented the neatly sorted case files.

Zhang Yuanye flipped through a few pages and immediately noticed that the case of Le Wuya killing the Liu profligate was right there in the genuine pile.

He frowned slightly.

This case had caused a huge stir internally within both the Ministry of Punishments and the Court of Judicial Review.

Even Zhang Yuanye himself, who had personally reported the matter, had his own nagging doubts.

The case had been admitted to personally by Le Wuya himself, so no one had looked into it closely back then.

But now that Wang Su was behind bars, even a case "personally confessed" by Le Wuya would have to be reopened and retried.

The common question on everyone's mind was: why would a man living a perfectly comfortable life bother to go kill an exiled prisoner?

Naturally, all eyes turned to Zhang Yuanye.

The evidence Zhang Yuanye had originally presented was that after concluding the case, Le Wuya had claimed he was taking a day off, but had slipped out of the city that night, gone all night, not back until the next day.

By the timing and the distance, it was just enough time for him to kill the Liu brat and make it back to the capital.

And that playboy Liu happened to die by the very archery Le Wuya was best at.

With Le Wuya's confession added, the case made some sense.

But if Le Wuya's confession couldn't be taken at face value, the case reeked of a frame-up.

Even Zhang Yuanye himself harbored doubts—had Lord Le deliberately given him a false lead to get him out of trouble, taking the case onto himself?

Zhang Yuanye asked, "Why is this case listed among the true ones?"

Wen Ren Yue, disguised as Ming Xiangzhao, thought to himself, because someone tipped me off.

Back when he passed the provincial exam and went to Tongzhou, he had gone over the eighty-two charges one by one with Le Wuya.

That day, Le Wuya was in good spirits.

While tossing meat bones to Er Ya, he told Wen Ren Yue the whole truth behind everything.

But Wen Ren Yue couldn't exactly say that the man in question had told him personally.

So he offered his explanation: "Because I looked into Jin Donglai's case files. According to him, to settle the case, he paid Le Wuya five hundred taels of silver. But that silver never showed up in the inventory of Le Wuya's confiscated property."

"All of Le Wuya's bribes were recorded, not a cent touched, yet this sum alone went missing."

"And I found that the parents of the Song woman, after the case was closed, left the capital and went back to their hometown."

"They opened a ready-made clothing shop, named after their daughter."

"But they shouldn't have had the money to open it."

Zhang Yuanye more or less understood, a surge of heat stirring in his chest: "But what was the motive?"

Wen Ren Yue shot him a strange look: "A life for a life."

Zhang Yuanye's head rang with a thunderous boom.

His thoughts had been consumed by "why bother," "it wasn't necessary," "what did this have to do with Lord Le."

The simplest principle—"a life for a life"—had been shoved aside.

Suppressing his guilt, Zhang Yuanye pointed to another case: "What about this one?"

"Lord Le also confessed to the death of Lord Kui Zizhao himself."

Wen Ren Yue's gaze fell on the name "Kui Zizhao," and his thoughts drifted back to that pleasant afternoon when Le Wuya was in a good mood.

...

"Murdering a court official?"

Le Wuya admitted without hesitation: "Yes, I did it."

"Why?"

"Him?" Le Wuya licked his lips. "The old man lost his honor in his old age, roped into a crooked scheme by local officials. That corrupt official planned to spread typhoid plague to bring down his political rivals. The old man knew about it but kept quiet, so I killed him."

This was the first Wen Ren Yue had heard of such details: "But killing wasn't necessary. Couldn't you have reported him to the authorities?"

Le Wuya said lazily, "Because I felt like it."

Later, Wen Ren Yue came across the case files for the Xingzhou case.

But they made no mention at all of the real reason Le Wuya killed Kui Zizhao.

No mention of typhoid, no mention of political infighting—none of it.

All it said was that retired official Kui Zizhao was killed by a notorious bandit, and local prefect Ren Lai, having failed to maintain public order, was stripped of his post.

Ren Lai, who had done nothing, was inexplicably stripped of his rank, left idle at home, and within three years fell into depression. Now he could barely function, never without a bowl of herbal medicine.

In Le Wuya's confession, he only mentioned that he and Kui Zizhao were master and disciple on the surface but privately held old grudges. Passing through the area on official business, he killed the old man while he was at it.

The confession was too outlandish, exactly like a charge that had been forced onto him.

But Wen Ren Yue had a vague inkling of his reasoning.

It was Le Wuya's public-spiritedness, mixed with a secret, unspoken personal motive.

If Le Wuya had reported the matter, first, he had no evidence—unless he let the plague spread and caught Ren Lai red-handed, he'd have nothing but empty words.

Moreover, without civilian casualties, it would be hard to implicate Ren Lai, let alone Kui Zizhao, who merely pretended not to see or hear.

Second, even if he exposed the plot at minimal cost and sent Ren Lai to prison, Kui Zizhao, who was complicit, would also be ruined and disgraced.

Le Wuya knew the old man inside out.

He had spent his whole life as a man of integrity, a gentle, kind soul—he couldn't bear being condemned by everyone.

Death was inevitable either way, so a quick arrow was a kindness.

And since he had taken the old man's life, he might as well preserve his reputation after death.

Wen Ren Yue saw Le Wuya's smiling face flash before his eyes: "Why are you asking all this? You're not thinking of overturning my case, are you?"

"Brother Gu, wouldn't you want to?"

Le Wuya rubbed the belly of the well-fed Er Ya, his tone indifferent: "Doesn't matter. Judge by deeds, not intentions. The things I did—I deserved worse than death."

Wen Ren Yue refused to give up: "Even framing you for stealing imperial tangerines—is that okay?"

Le Wuya: "That one? I did that too."

Wen Ren Yue: "?"

Le Wuya smiled faintly: "Xiaoliu was sick and wanted tangerines, so I picked a few."

Wen Ren Yue: "..."

...

Even now, thinking back, a sourness still rose in Wen Ren Yue's throat.

Sensing his emotions about to run wild again, he forced himself to focus on the matter at hand: "This case is indeed bizarre, but precisely because it's so unusual, there may be many hidden truths yet to be uncovered. For instance, since Lord Kui had retired and returned to his hometown, why didn't he go back to his own home, but instead stayed at Ren Lai's residence for days, even bringing his family to his side?"

If one examined it closely, Le Wuya in his previous life was indeed legally deserving of death.

But if the truth were made known to the world, how people would judge him was beyond anyone's control.