PC Chapter 16

At the entrance of the Su residence, Ah Fu had been waiting for a long time. When he saw them approaching, he hurried up to greet them. “Second Young Master, you’re finally back.”

Under the eaves, Su Cen closed the umbrella. Just as Ah Fu was about to take it from him, Su Cen switched the umbrella from his right hand to his left and nodded towards the back. “Help him.”

Qu Linger was just getting down from Qi Lin’s back. Now that they had safely made it home, his courage grew. He patted Qi Lin on the shoulder and said, “Last time I tried to assassinate your master, I was just following orders. This time, I saved you. We’re even now. So next time we meet, don’t look so stern.”

Qi Lin glanced at Qu Linger. “If you hadn’t interfered, I could have captured him.”

“Are you ungrateful or what?” Qu Linger stomped his foot in anger. “If I hadn’t helped you, you might have been dead by now.”

“Smoke bombs. I could have charged through and caught him.”

“And what if it was poison gas, venomous insects, poison arrows, or explosives? Would you charge ahead then too?”

Qi Lin’s cold, pale eyes swept over him. “This life of mine belongs to my master. I have no regrets dying for him.”

“Good intentions wasted on a stubborn mule,” Qu Linger muttered, holding his chest in frustration. He turned away, supported by Ah Fu, and walked inside, ignoring this stubborn fool.

“Thank you for your trouble, Guard Qi.” Su Cen cupped his hands, seeing him off.

Qi Lin nodded slightly. “I’ll come to pick you up again tomorrow.”

“Huh?” Su Cen was taken aback. “No need, no need for the trouble. I can walk by myself.”

Qi Lin remained unmoved. “It’s the prince’s order.”

“But… but…” But if his colleagues at the Dali Temple saw him being escorted by the prince’s guard, what would they think?

Without another word, Qi Lin turned and disappeared into the night.

Only after watching him leave did Su Cen look down and notice the umbrella still in his hand.

He had planned to have it sent back, but somehow, he forgot.

Back in his room, Su Cen closed the umbrella, then thought for a moment and opened it again, examining it carefully under the candlelight. It was dark earlier, so he hadn’t noticed that there were two lines of poetry inscribed on the umbrella’s surface.

“Clouds cross Qinling, where is my home? Snow blocks the Blue Pass, the horse won’t move forward.”

Su Cen prided himself on his calligraphy skills, having been taught in the style of Yan Zhenqing by Lin Zongqing. But when he looked at these two lines, he suddenly felt that his own handwriting seemed somewhat petty in comparison.

The script was in wild cursive, round and forceful, with strokes that flowed like rings, vividly evoking the vast desolation of the frontier. The writing was bold and fluent, completed in a single breath.

What kind of person could write such characters? And what kind of state of mind could make these two lines of poetry seem as if they were written in blood?

Suddenly, he recalled those warm, dry hands that had grabbed his and placed the umbrella in his grip.

So, were these two lines of poetry written by those very hands?

Su Cen couldn’t help but smile wryly. What was he thinking? This was Prince Ning, who wielded power throughout the court, able to destroy families and lives with a mere gesture. Why would he be lamenting, “Where is my home?”

If anything, he should be quoting lines more like, “In the spring breeze, the horse gallops swiftly, taking in all the flowers of Chang’an in a day.”

Su Cen didn’t know how he fell asleep, but when he woke up, daylight was already streaming in. He was still wearing his soaked clothes, hugging the umbrella that was digging uncomfortably into his chest.

Recalling that Qi Lin said he would come to pick him up, Su Cen hurriedly rolled out of bed. Ah Fu and Qu Linger were still asleep. He didn’t even have time for breakfast and rushed out, hoping to leave before Qi Lin arrived.

Outside, he didn’t see Qi Lin, but there was a luxurious carriage parked at the entrance of the alley. A person on the carriage waved to him as he came out. “Brother Su, over here.”

“Zheng Yang?” Su Cen was slightly surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard you were attacked yesterday?” Zheng Yang lifted the carriage curtain. “Come on up, I’ll give you a ride.”

Once Su Cen got into the carriage and sat down, he continued to ask, “Who told you that?”

“Who else could it be? My uncle, of course. Qi Lin came banging on our door early in the morning, ruining my sleep,” Zheng Yang yawned and continued, “So, you really got attacked? Are you hurt? Do you need to take some time off?”

“I’m fine, but I appreciate your concern, Brother Zheng.”

“No need for such formality,” Zheng Yang chuckled. “Did they catch the assassin? Why did you leave your stable post as a Zhongshu Sheren to run off to the Dali Temple? My uncle, too—sending you there despite all the dangers, with ghosts and murders, and now assassins appearing out of nowhere.”

Su Cen frowned. “You all know about this?”

“You might not be in the court anymore, but the whole court is about to break out in a brawl over this. The faction led by Chancellor Liu is demanding that the culprit be caught immediately. Cui Hao, who is now part of his faction, has been fanning the flames, exaggerating the situation. You know he can’t stand the sight of either of us. Knowing you’re at the Dali Temple, he’s been painting the case in the darkest light, claiming it’s wreaking havoc in the capital and berating the Dali Temple for its inefficiency. He nearly scared the young emperor in court to tears.”

“Chancellor Liu?” Su Cen pondered for a moment. “Since when does he have time to concern himself with a case like this?”

“Isn’t it obvious? The Dali Temple is my uncle’s turf. Saying the Dali Temple is inefficient is just his way of causing trouble for my uncle. It’s not the first time he’s kicked a man when he’s down.”

“And what did the prince say?”

Zheng Yang smiled slightly. “After Cui Hao went on for half an hour with his long-winded speech, my uncle responded with just two words: ‘Get out.’”

Su Cen couldn’t help but burst into laughter. That indeed sounded like something Prince Ning would say.

“It’s a shame you’re not in the court anymore,” Zheng Yang sighed. “You’d see all the scheming and backstabbing; it’s like a stage play. Everyone has several faces, all vying for personal gain under the guise of serving the emperor and the people. Yet some people manage to navigate it all so smoothly.”

Su Cen smiled and shook his head. “There’s no such thing as pure water in this world. Where there’s water, there are fish. There’s always a good show to watch, no matter where you are.”

When Su Cen arrived at the Dali Temple, it was still early. He went straight to the back hall, opened the windows to let in some fresh air, and began sorting through the cases that needed to be reviewed today. He had been copying documents for more than half an hour when he suddenly heard a commotion outside the hall, with people whispering about how “the murderer has been caught.”

Su Cen put down his brush and frowned. When he went out to inquire, he learned that Song Jiancheng had mobilized his men to investigate overnight and had actually caught the murderer. The suspect was now being interrogated in the front hall.

Su Cen hastily walked to the front hall, feeling a sudden wave of unease. When he saw the person kneeling in the hall, his heart sank.

Gao Miao.

The fat man who had been burning paper.

The man was kneeling on the floor, sweating profusely, his whole fat body trembling.

When Song Jiancheng saw Su Cen, he surprisingly did not lose his temper. He pointed to the person in the hall and said, “We caught him based on your clues. No problem with that, right?”

The fat man followed Song Jiancheng’s gaze and looked over at Su Cen. His eyes turned cold in an instant.

Su Cen steadied himself and asked, “Why do you say he’s the murderer?”

“He’s caught with evidence; what else is there to say? Do you know what his house looks like? Just look—” Song Jiancheng pointed to a corpse covered with a white cloth nearby. “It was hanging upside down by the feet from a beam in his house, the entire room covered in blood. And him? He was sound asleep right there!”

“It wasn’t me! I didn’t kill him! I don’t know anything!” the fat man shouted desperately, but a group of yamen officers pushed his face down to the ground, flattening the flesh on his face.

Su Cen walked over to the corpse, lifted a corner of the white cloth, and glanced at it, frowning. He recognized the person—it was the skinny man who had scolded the fat man at the examination hall the other day.

“The deceased is Wu Qing, a second-ranked jinshi, from the same county as the murderer. The two have always been at odds, and many people saw Wu Qing publicly insult Gao Miao during the metropolitan exam,” Song Jiancheng banged the gavel and shouted at Gao Miao, “So you held a grudge and killed him afterward, didn’t you?!”

Gao Miao trembled all over, his flesh shaking with fear as he was pressed to the ground, frantically denying, “It wasn’t me… I didn’t kill him…”

Apart from a ligature mark on the ankle, the corpse only had a knife wound on the neck. Su Cen squatted down to examine it closely. The knife wound was on the left side of the neck, shallow at the front and deep at the back, sloping downward from a high point, which matched the characteristics of a person being hanged and then having their throat slit. One cut severed the vital artery, consistent with the wounds on the previous victims.

The ligature marks on the feet were purplish-blue, indicating the person was still alive when hoisted up. There were no signs of the body being moved afterward. Just as Song Jiancheng said, the fat man’s house must be the crime scene.

How soundly must this fat man have been sleeping to not wake up while someone was being murdered in his house?

Song Jiancheng asked, “Does this method of hanging someone upside down and killing them seem familiar to you, Scholar Su?”

Su Cen covered the body with the white cloth again, stood up, and pressed his lips together. “Like slaughtering pigs…”

“His family has been butchers for generations, and the boning knife found at the scene is also a butcher’s tool. He publicly spread rumors about ghosts and gods and has injuries on his arm—these were all things you helped us deduce.”

Su Cen glanced back at the fat man. His sleeve had been pulled up, revealing a scrape on his arm.

“I fell! I only got that last night when I fell!” The fat man tried to struggle to his feet again but was pushed back down.

“Still dare to argue!” Song Jiancheng casually picked up a command stick, but Su Cen’s hand was quick. He hastily said, “Master Song, there are still doubts about this case. Please allow me to ask a few more questions.”

Song Jiancheng glared at Su Cen, but, in the end, impatiently threw down the command stick.

An ironclad case—what tricks could this young brat possibly pull?

Su Cen crouched in front of the fat man and asked, “How did you really hurt your arm? Yesterday, you told me it was from falling off a tree when you were a child.”

The fat man panted heavily, “It was indeed from falling off a tree, but when I went back yesterday, someone pushed me from behind, and I got injured again.”

“Someone pushed you?” Su Cen pressed urgently. “Who pushed you?”

“…The rain was too heavy. I didn’t see.”

Su Cen frowned and continued to ask, “Then did you hear any noise last night? Someone was murdered in your house, and you didn’t notice anything at all?”

The fat man was stunned for a moment, then suddenly howled loudly, “It was an evil ghost that killed him! It has nothing to do with me! It was the evil ghost from the examination hall!”

“Lies,” Song Jiancheng tossed the command stick he had been playing with. “Give him twenty lashes first.”

“Master Song!” Su Cen quickly turned back.

However, the command stick had already fallen to the ground. The yamen officers took out the wooden planks and set up for the beating. They stood on either side, taking their positions. A plank, carried by the wind, brushed past Su Cen’s face and landed with a loud crack on the fat man’s body, followed by a wretched scream.

“Master Song!” Su Cen stepped forward two paces. “This is extracting a confession through torture!”

“Ridiculous! You said the murderer was a disgraced scholar who spread rumors and had wounds on his body. Now that I’ve caught the man, you’re saying I’m extracting a confession through torture?”

“There are still doubts in the case, and the sequence of events is incorrect. Before the imperial exam, I saw Gao Miao burning paper behind the examination hall. Did he already know he would fail the exam then? And before Lü Liang died, someone saw him in Pingkang Lane, but afterward, his body was found in the Eastern Market. The Eastern Market was under curfew at the time. How did he get in?”

“Where’s your evidence?” Song Jiancheng glanced up disdainfully. “The body was found in his house, and he was asleep inside. Either give me solid evidence proving he didn’t commit the murder, or stay out of this. As for those so-called doubts you mentioned, once we interrogate him, everything will become clear.”

The dull sound of the plank continued in the hall, but the wailing grew weaker. The fat man, despite his bulk, was surprisingly fragile. After just a few hits, his eyes rolled back, and he looked on the brink of death.

“Song Jiancheng!” Su Cen stared directly at Song Jiancheng, his voice cold and stern. “I will find the evidence. If you’re thinking of wrapping up this case hastily to take credit by condemning an innocent man, I will make sure that the higher you climb, the harder you fall!”

 

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