Chapter 406 Lin’an Prefecture

Chapter 406: Lin'an Prefecture

The case involving Fang Rushan from back then had far-reaching implications. After settling the remaining affairs in Suzhou, Song Tingzhou made a special trip back to Shengjing to personally escort Li Xiuwen and Yao Jing to the capital as witnesses.

Along the way, some tried to recreate the circumstances of Fang Rushan's death by attempting to ambush Song Tingzhou, but with an expert like Ge Quan by his side, he cut down attackers in pairs or by the hundred. When they passed through Yingtian Prefecture, Qin Jiao, who had been waiting for some time, came forward to receive them, and those behind the scenes could only retreat in defeat.

"I heard you got married. We already sent our gift back to Shengjing via the courier station. You owe us a meal when you get back, right?" Ge Quan and Qin Jiao were fairly familiar with each other, so he joked with him along the way back.

The prison carts behind held serious criminals. Apart from Cao Rui, whom Qin Jiao had beheaded on the spot, Gao Siyu and Deng You were both being escorted back to the capital. Song Tingzhou hung back to question them briefly. Armed with Li Xiuwen and Yao Jing's confessions, he knew far more than Gao Siyu had imagined. After being questioned, Gao Siyu couldn't help but feel despair, knowing that returning to the capital would likely mean death.

Song Tingzhou rode his horse forward. When passing the carriage holding Li Xiuwen, Li Xiuwen spoke up from the prison cart, "Lord Song, where exactly are my family members?" He actually wanted to ask if they were still alive, but was afraid to hear the answer from Song Tingzhou himself.

The man was already captured and the evidence obtained, so Song Tingzhou told him the truth without hesitation: "They were sent back to your hometown by my people from the very beginning." They were kept under discreet surveillance, which was why no letters could be sent out.

Li Xiuwen's tears fell the instant Song Tingzhou finished speaking. Over the years, it wasn't that he didn't want to be corrupt, but that he didn't dare. The condemnation in his heart tormented him endlessly. Li Xiuwen had long known this day would come—that doing wrong would invite heaven's punishment—but every time he saw his parents, wife, and children, he couldn't help but feel guilty.

Song Tingzhou looked at him long and hard, then spurred his horse forward, catching Ge Quan's words and adding to Qin Jiao, "Wan'er and I truly didn't dare act rashly in the south, or we'd have come back to toast your wedding."

Both he and Meng Wan were on good terms with Qin Jiao. When Chu Ci got married, the Marchioness of the Qin family came in person, and Qin Jiao had personally accompanied Chu Ci to welcome the bride. He had also lent Meng Wan a lot of manpower—he'd really gone above and beyond.

Qin Jiao's wedding happened to fall right at this critical juncture, and neither Song Tingzhou nor Meng Wan was in the capital. Meng Wan felt bad about it, so he prepared lavish gifts and sent them back to Shengjing, also writing to Huang Ye to open up the storehouse.

"It's no trouble. There's war in the north, and my father went off to lead troops. We weren't planning anything big anyway." Qin Jiao had married the one he'd pursued so hard, but his expression was conflicted—part newlywed joy, part unspoken melancholy.

"As long as the two of you are devoted to each other, that's what matters. No need to fuss over formalities and show." Ge Quan could understand not having a grand wedding. His own wedding with Fang Jinrong had been thrown together in a hurry by Fan Er and the others.

In contrast, Song Tingzhou vaguely guessed at some of the inside story and steered the conversation elsewhere. "The northern tribes in Liaodong are in their prime grazing season now—perfect for letting their horses and cattle graze and recover. Why would they pick this time to pick a fight with Yu?"

At the mention of official matters, Qin Jiao set aside his personal feelings. "It's not the Liaodong tribes. It's the Mohe."

"Mohe?" Ge Quan had traveled far and wide and was well-informed. "Isn't Mohe some tiny northeastern kingdom? They don't have much land and they've always kept to themselves. Why would they suddenly pick a fight with us?"

Ge Quan was right. Mohe was merely an insignificant small northeastern kingdom, even lesser than Annam. Yu had never paid them much mind—their garrisons were mainly there to keep an eye on the Liaodong tribes.

It was exactly this mindset that cost them. News from the north traveled far more slowly than from the south, and by the time news of the defeat reached Shengjing, Mohe's army had already taken three cities from Yu.

Losing three cities to such a tiny kingdom nearly drove Wen Zhao to murder the northern officials in a rage. Executing and demoting them still didn't cool his rage. The prefect of Yuanping Prefecture, the first to fall, had fled to Jianping, only to be dragged back by Wen Zhao's Qianlong Guard and dismembered.

A great power's dignity couldn't be challenged. The Marquis Zhongyi, still in Shengjing, was the best candidate to lead the campaign against Mohe. If Qin Jiao hadn't just gotten married, he'd have gone to the northeastern border too.

Song Tingzhou took note of all this and mentioned some of it in his letters to Meng Wan.

He'd rushed back to the capital for the Three Courts' joint trial of Gao Siyu and the other offenders. Worried about Meng Wan, who was alone in Lin'an, he left almost as soon as the trial ended, without even waiting for the final verdicts on Gao and Deng.

"Father, when is Papa coming back to see me?" A Yan hugged the silk figure and four or five cotton dolls Song Tingzhou had bought him, pouting.

The palace wasn't fun at all. The eldest prince was a dull stick-in-the-mud, a little pedant—this wasn't allowed, that wasn't permitted. Though he and Tong'er didn't exactly obey him much either, the palace had too many restrictions compared to home. The tutors were all polite and deferential, which A Yan found fake—nowhere near as lively and interesting as Tutor Zheng's lessons.

"Soon. Once it cools down a bit, your Papa and I will come back for you." Song Tingzhou patted his son's shoulder. In the months they'd been apart, A Yan had grown. His face was still young, but you could already see hints of Meng Wan in him. "You've grown up now. I believe you can take care of yourself."

Song Tingzhou was about to leave, and A Yan's eyes grew hot. He lowered his head and gave his father a proper bow. "Father, travel safely. When you reach Lin'an, take care of yourselves—you and Papa."

Song Tingzhou felt deeply pleased, a swell of pride rising in his chest at how his son was growing up. "Good. I understand."

—

At the end of June, when the south was at its hottest, Meng Wan and Fang Jinrong arrived in Lin'an. Prefect Xu Yun of Lin'an personally came out of the city to welcome them. Because they were the spouses of the Governor-General and the Commander, Xu Yun had even brought his wife and his elderly mother, who had one foot in the grave, terrified that if he didn't treat them well, that demon Song Tingzhou would come back and chop his head off.

Meng Wan said in surprise, "Lord Xu, you're too kind. There's no need for all this fuss."

Xu Yun was a short, middle-aged man with three wisps of long beard on his chin. When he smiled, his small bean-like eyes narrowed into slits, and with a hint of shrewd flattery he said, "Meng Fulang jests. You and Fang Fulang are honored guests of Lin'an—how could I dare to be negligent? And Lord Song has worked so hard to implement the new policies for the people of the south. I'm dull-witted and don't have a fraction of Lord Song's ability. If I can't even take good care of Meng Fulang, I'd be truly ashamed."

Before Song Tingzhou came south, these officials and gentry were probably cursing him behind his back for meddling in their affairs, weren't they? Now they'd seen the devastation in Suzhou Prefecture and were scared, so they'd softened?

Meng Wan gave a graceful smile. "Lord Xu, your hospitality is hard to refuse, and I shouldn't turn it down. But my people in the city have already prepared lodgings. I'll just trouble you to escort me in."

Xu Yun's smile didn't waver as he waved a hand. "That's no trouble at all. Meng Fulang, please."

He'd offered, but if they didn't stay at the government office, then whatever happened, Song Tingzhou couldn't pin it on him. Xu Yun felt a weight lift off his chest as he escorted Meng Wan and his party into the city.

Lin'an had been prosperous since ancient times. Even in the scorching June heat, the streets were bustling with noise, and cries of vendors rose and fell. Meng Wan sat in the carriage, lifting the curtain slightly to look out. Shops lined the streets in abundance, traffic flowed thick as water, and the women and young lads had gentle expressions, speaking in the soft Wu dialect, silk handkerchiefs never leaving their hands.

Flower girls carried bamboo baskets filled with blooming jasmine and gardenias, their sweet fragrance drifting through the air with each step, mingling with the aroma of scallion pancakes from street stalls and the sesame scent from tea shops—together brewing a lively, warm atmosphere of everyday life. Compared to Shengjing's solemn grandeur, it had more of the liveliness and richness of the Jiangnan water towns.

Fang Jinrong leaned out the carriage window and waved at a young flower girl. "Little sister, how much are your flowers?"

The girl's eyes lit up. Basket in hand, she trotted over and walked alongside the carriage to reply, "Greetings, young master. Look here—these gardenias have thick petals and a stronger scent, and they keep longer. One coin each. The jasmine is more delicate—one coin for two."

Fang Jinrong handed her two coins. "Here, give me two gardenias."

He took the flowers and handed one to Meng Wan. Meng Wan held it up to look at it. The flower was in full bloom, with a few drops of morning dew still on the petals. He brought it to his nose and breathed in—the fresh scent lingered, easing some of the travel weariness. "What made you think of buying flowers?" This is something Nie Zhiyao would do.

Fang Jinrong held the flower carefully in his hand. "Back when I was roaming the martial world with Ge Quan, whenever something happened, he'd pick a wildflower and give it to me to pluck the petals off. When I'd plucked all the petals, he'd come back. If they grew back, he'd have me put them in a vase, and when the petals wilted, he'd come back too."

It was relaxing to be in Lin'an with Meng Wan, but Fang Jinrong still missed having Ge Quan by his side.

When he lowered his eyes and went quiet, he looked like a sheltered young master who knew nothing of the world. Meng Wan, used to raising kids, instinctively reached out to pat his head, only to get an odd look from Fang Jinrong. "What are you doing?"

"Ahem." Meng Wan changed course and stroked his own chin instead. "Afraid you're going to pine away from lovesickness."

Fang Jinrong shuddered. "Ew, what's that supposed to mean?"

As the two chatted, the carriage rolled slowly over the bluestone road. The buildings on either side were mostly white-walled with dark tiles and upturned eaves. Occasionally, tall camphor trees hung over the walls, casting dappled shade.

From the taverns and teahouses came the sound of strings and flutes—the soft, lilting tunes of pingtan ballads, the lyrics hard to make out but the melody lingering and sweet.

Chi Yu called from outside, "Young masters, we're here."

Xu Yun was the prefect, after all, and many locals recognized and respected him. He personally escorted Meng Wan to the place. Meng Wan got out, exchanged pleasantries, and Xu Yun left—having done his due diligence. He was a shrewd and meticulous man.

What Xu Yun didn't know was that he was also secretly astonished as he left. "What kind of person is this young master? His words are watertight—couldn't get a single thing out of him. I thought Song Tingzhou was just a man who doted on his husband and brought him along for that reason, but it turns out he's a formidable character."

Meanwhile, Meng Wan and Fang Jinrong climbed down from the carriage. The household had heard the commotion earlier. After Xu Yun left, the gate swung open to reveal several familiar faces.

"Master, you're finally here." Na Tuo led Lei Bao and a few other brothers out of the courtyard to greet them. They'd arrived in Lin'an well ahead of time to wait for Meng Wan. With a Shijian courier station in Lin'an and Na Tuo's men there, Song Tingzhou wouldn't have dared leave Meng Wan alone otherwise.

Besides, Lin'an was fairly close to Xiwu Prefecture—about a month's journey. If anything urgent came up, Meng Wan could head straight back to Xiwu Prefecture, which was his and Song Tingzhou's home turf—plenty of connections, plenty of money.

Meng Wan looked up at the residence. Two imposing stone lions flanked the entrance, the vermilion gate stood wide open, and big red lanterns hung on either side. There was no plaque above the door—probably saved for Meng Wan to put up once he arrived.

"Did you set up this place?" Meng Wan asked Na Tuo.

Na Tuo laughed heartily. "I couldn't find a place this nice. Shuang Geer set it up. He said once he wraps up some business, he'll come stay with you in Lin'an for a bit."

Tang Jinshuang's hometown was Lin'an Prefecture. The Tang family was a mid-tier clan there, but with too many branches, the members were scattered and each branch ran its own affairs. Tang Jinshuang's family was a main branch—his father had been a fifth-rank official, but he committed an offense and was beheaded, bringing the whole family down with him.

Returning to his old stomping grounds, Tang Jinshuang's circumstances had changed. He felt wistful, but also a sense of release.

Meng Wan understood Tang Jinshuang's intentions from what Na Tuo said. He wanted to revisit his homeland, but also to look after Meng Wan, knowing he was new to Lin'an. "He's thoughtful to go to all this trouble. Carry everything inside. Rong Geer, you'll stay in the same courtyard as me for now?"

Jin Rong had already hopped to the doorway: “Great—come in and rest for a bit; my back is sore.”

Jiangnan courtyards are all exquisitely elegant. This small compound comprised only three sections, yet offered a fresh vista at every turn. Na Tuo had arranged for renovations: the courtyard was paved with bluestone slabs, with a pebble mosaic of the character “福” (fú, meaning “fortune”) centered in the ground. Winding covered walkways flanked both sides, linking the eastern and western wing rooms, while several plain octagonal palace lanterns hung beneath the eaves, their tassels swaying gently in the breeze.

Passing through the front courtyard led to a small skywell, where a cluster of slender bamboo grew in one corner, its leaves a vivid emerald green. Beneath the bamboo stood several oddly shaped Taihu stones placed casually, lending an air of refined scholarly charm.

The main hall consisted of five spacious, bright, tiled rooms, with doors and windows painted a steady dark red. The window lattices were carved with intricate patterns of intertwined lotus scrollwork—delicate yet unpretentious.

The western wing had been converted into a study, featuring a broad rosewood desk positioned by the window, complete with brush, ink, paper, and inkstone. In one corner stood a tall bookshelf—still empty, awaiting its new owner, just like the plaque above it.

The eastern wing served as servants’ quarters, furnished with fresh bedding and curtains carrying the faint, sun-dried scent of linen.

In the corner of the main hall stood an antique display cabinet holding several pieces of antique porcelain, an incense burner, and soft couches—nothing was missing. The moment Jin Rong stepped into the main hall, his fatigue vanished as he looked around: “This place is far superior to the lodgings in Yangzhou and Suzhou. Your men truly outdid themselves.”

“Shuang Geer is always thorough and reliable,” Meng Wan replied, equally satisfied. The residence was neither too large nor too small—elegant and quiet, perfectly suited for their temporary stay.

Na Tuo and the others tended to the horses and carriage, while Zhifan and Zhimao carried the valuables inside one by one, arranging them neatly before hurrying to the kitchen to fetch water for Meng Wan. That day, the sun blazed fiercely, and everyone was drenched in sweat; Meng Wan always insisted on washing up before settling onto the couch.