Yan Tongshu handed the cleaned vegetables to the elderly woman. "Auntie, thank you for telling me all this. We have matters to attend to, so we'll be on our way."
It was just idle chatter, so the woman didn't mind whether Yan Tongshu and the others stayed or left; she waved them off.
Jinbao drove the carriage, carrying the three of them, and they sped toward Kaifeng Prefecture.
As expected, at the entrance of Kaifeng Prefecture, Yan Tongshu saw Aunt Yang.
Aunt Yang's withered hands held aloft a slip of paper bearing the word "Injustice." Her graying hair was tangled like dried, unruly weeds. The clothes that were once washed clean despite being patched countless times were now stained and blackened, giving off a sour, foul odor. Her body was hunched as she knelt humbly on the ground, her knees scraped raw, oozing blood mixed with flesh.
Yan Tongshu told Jinbao to stop the carriage by the roadside and quickly ran to Aunt Yang's side.
"Aunt Yang," she called out.
Aunt Yang's gaze was unfocused. At the sound, she lifted her head slowly, her cracked lips trembling.
She had been kneeling for far too long—her body and spirit had reached their limits. She looked at the person before her, a blurry figure. She was too exhausted even to tell whether it was a man or a woman. Mechanically, she repeated over and over, "My son is innocent. Innocent."
Yan Tongshu took a ginseng pill from her pocket and placed it in Aunt Yang's mouth to keep her alive. "Aunt Yang, why are you so certain your son is innocent? Is it because Zhao Gengtian came to provoke him, and Zhao Sheng killed him by accident, so you think he doesn't deserve the death penalty?"
According to the law of the dynasty, manslaughter could be dealt with leniently and wouldn't warrant the death penalty. But Zhao Gengtian was Zhao Sheng's grandfather—killing one's father, grandfather, or mother was an aggravated crime, with no possibility of reduction.
At this, Aunt Yang became agitated, shaking her head desperately, her lips trembling. "No, no. My son didn't kill anyone. He didn't kill anyone. He told me he didn't kill anyone... He said he didn't..." Her voice trailed off.
Aunt Yang was utterly exhausted. Before she could finish, her body stiffened, and with a thud, she pitched forward.
Yan Tongshu quickly caught her, but Aunt Yang had lost consciousness completely. Still, her bony hands clung tightly to the slip of paper that read "Injustice."
Seeing this, Pearl hurried over to help Yan Tongshu support Aunt Yang.
Yan Tongshu felt Aunt Yang's pulse. "She has a fever and is extremely weak. She needs to see a doctor immediately."
Jinbao arrived after parking the carriage. Yan Tongshu instructed him to take Aunt Yang to a medical clinic first and handed him her money pouch, telling him not to worry about the cost and to use the best medicine.
Pearl asked curiously, "Young Master, aren't we going to follow?"
Yan Tongshu shook her head, her brows furrowed tightly. "Do you think Zhao Sheng might be innocent?"
Pearl pursed her lips. "With Zhao Sheng's unruly nature, it wouldn't be surprising if he caused trouble. Aunt Yang dotes on her son and doesn't want to see him executed, so of course she'd come to the courthouse to plead for him. But then again, Old Zhao was a bad egg too. If you ask me, the old villain getting killed by the little villain—it's no injustice."
Yan Tongshu lowered her gaze. "True. Aunt Yang has always spoiled her son, letting him get away with everything."
When Zhao Sheng had stolen her money pouch, she'd caught him red-handed, but Aunt Yang had knelt right there begging for mercy, pleading bitterly, so Yan Tongshu had let him off that time.
"But this is a matter of life and death. We must be cautious."
Yan Tongshu thought for a moment and made up her mind. "Come on, Pearl. Let's go see Zhao Sheng and question him directly."
Pearl gasped. "But isn't everything already clear? What else is there to ask?"
She hurried after him. "Young Master, you don't actually believe Zhao Sheng is innocent, do you?"
Yan Tongshu replied, "Innocent or not, we won't know until we investigate. If it's truly an open-and-shut case, verifying it will let Aunt Yang let go completely and live in peace."
Otherwise, with this knot in her heart, if Zhao Sheng were executed, Aunt Yang might lose her will to live from the pain of losing her son. After all the noodles Aunt Yang had served her for so long, could she just stand by and watch?
...
Yan Tongshu was sixteen, serving at the Hanlin Academy's "cold palace," but she still held the fourth-rank official title. The bailiffs at Kaifeng Prefecture naturally showed her respect, quickly leading her to a small courtyard near the prison and bringing over a chair for her to sit.
Soon, Zhao Sheng was brought out.
He wore a filthy prison uniform, his hands and feet bound in heavy chains. Because he refused to confess, he had been given twenty lashes, his legs beaten raw and bloody, leaving him unable to stand. Two bailiffs half-dragged him before Yan Tongshu and threw him to the ground.
In the past, Zhao Sheng liked taking petty advantages, hanging around women, stealing chickens and dogs, and never reforming—he was a truly detestable character, and Pearl had always despised him.
But now, seeing Zhao Sheng bloodied and pathetic, Pearl felt a flicker of pity.
Just as the saying goes: the pitiful always have something hateful about them.
Pearl shook her head.
Yan Tongshu asked, "Zhao Sheng, your mother has been kneeling at the courthouse gate for days and nights pleading your innocence. Do you have anything to say?"
Zhao Sheng lay on the ground, barely alive, his voice hoarse. "What else can I say? What's there to say? Kaifeng Prefecture has already passed judgment. Once it's approved from above, I'll be taken to the execution ground. There's no way out... I can't live... I can't..."
His voice broke, and tears streamed down his face. He raised a hand to wipe them away, but his wrists were already raw and bleeding from the chains; the tears stung worse.
Yan Tongshu caught the note of grievance in Zhao Sheng's voice.
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and steadied herself, observing his expression carefully. "Zhao Sheng, tell me—what really happened between you and Zhao Gengtian that day? If you want to live, tell me every single word and action from when he came to your house in full detail."
At this, Zhao Sheng suddenly grew agitated. He pushed himself up with his hands, lifting his head with effort, his matted hair sticking to his sweat-and-blood-crusted face. "Lord Yan, can you save me?"
Yan Tongshu's gaze was clear and cold. "If you're truly innocent, if you didn't kill anyone, then I can save you."
A flash of desperate hope lit up Zhao Sheng's dull eyes. He shouted, "Lord Yan, I am innocent!"
Yan Tongshu said, "Tell me. From your perspective, what happened that day between you and Zhao Gengtian?"
Zhao Sheng didn't understand the phrase "from your perspective," but this was his only hope—weak and faint as a swan's feather, he had to seize it.
He sobbed, "Lord Yan, the day before it happened, I was drinking with my buddies. I slept until nearly noon and only woke up because I was hungry. When I got up, I was parched, so I was rummaging around the house for something to drink. I'd just gulped down two mouthfuls of cold water when my grandfather—pah!"
It seemed that Zhao Sheng felt Zhao Gengtian was utterly unworthy of being called human, let alone his grandfather. He spat in contempt, changed how he referred to him, and said through gritted teeth, “That bastard Zhao Gengtian came storming in, cursing up a storm, and tore into both my mother and me without mercy.
Zhao Gengtian is an old scoundrel; every word out of his mouth was filth. I may be a thug myself, but I’m useless—I couldn’t outcurse him. Plus, I’d been drinking the day before, my head was spinning, and I had even less energy to trade insults with him.”
Zhao Sheng continued, “But luckily, I have no shame. Every time he cursed me, I just said, ‘Hey, I deserve it, you’re right. I’m the seed of the Zhao family, and our family is trash, lowlifes, destined to be beggars for life.’ I didn’t let Zhao Gengtian get to me—instead, I nearly drove him mad with rage. He almost choked on his own breath.”
As he said this, Zhao Sheng seemed to forget his current predicament and even grew smug.
Pearl let out a chuckle.
The bailiff beside her glanced her way, and she quickly lowered her head, covering her mouth with her embroidered handkerchief to stifle her laughter.
Yan Tongshu was also exasperated by Zhao Sheng’s shamelessness. “Alright, go on with your story.”
Having been laughed at by a young woman, Zhao Sheng’s face flushed with embarrassment. He licked his chapped lips and continued, “After that, Zhao Gengtian ordered me to steal my mother’s braising sauce recipe. He said if I did it, he’d still accept me as a grandson of the Zhao family.
I told him, ‘A turtle shell stuffed with dung—do you really think your Zhao family is some golden nest? I don’t give a damn.’ Then he reached out and hit me, but when he hit me, I dodged.”
Yan Tongshu questioned, “You didn’t fight back?”
Zhao Sheng snorted viciously. “I wanted to. In my old days, I’d have slapped that old bastard twenty times over.”
Yan Tongshu pressed, “Then why didn’t you?”
Zhao Sheng pouted. “It’s because I once hit that old bastard before. To keep him from suing me at the courthouse, my mother had to pay a lot of silver, and the village head had me strung up on a tree all night.
In the end, my mother lost the money, and I got nothing out of it. After that, I got smarter. I only use my mouth now, not my fists. I just hope to outrage that old bastard to death.”
Yan Tongshu’s lips twitched several times. “You’re pretty clever.”
Zhao Sheng grinned sheepishly. “Well, when you’re scraping by on the streets, if you’re not clever, you’d have been beaten to death long ago.”
Yan Tongshu was at a loss for words. “Was that a compliment?”
Zhao Sheng shrank his neck and lowered his head, not daring to meet Yan Tongshu’s eyes.
Yan Tongshu took a deep breath, suppressing her irritation. “Go on. What happened next?”
Zhao Sheng said, “That old bastard chased me, hitting me as I ran. We circled the table several times. His eyes aren’t good—he can’t see clearly or fully—so what could he possibly hit?”
Zhao Sheng’s tone carried a hint of pride, but then he slumped. “When he saw he couldn’t catch me, he grabbed a nearby kettle and tried to throw it at me. How old is he? How young am I? How could he hit me? When the kettle came flying, I dodged. After I dodged, I even made faces at him. But then, the old bastard didn’t move at all…”
Yan Tongshu seized on this detail sharply. “What do you mean, ‘didn’t move at all’?”
Zhao Sheng replied, “Like… this…”
Despite his injuries, Zhao Sheng clumsily imitated the pose Zhao Gengtian had been in when he raised the kettle.
Yan Tongshu’s gaze was sharp as she watched his motions closely. “He stayed in that position the whole time? For how long?”
Zhao Sheng shook his head. “I don’t know exactly how long. Anyway, he was like that, and then, as if he’d seen a ghost, he fell straight backward, hit his head on the cabinet, and bled on the spot. I was terrified, so I rushed out to call for help, and then I was brought here to the courthouse.”
This puzzled Yan Tongshu.
She asked, “You and Zhao Gengtian never came into direct contact the whole time. Why did the court decide you were the murderer?”
At this, Zhao Sheng’s grievance surged straight to his head.
He wailed at the top of his lungs, “Lord Yan, I’m innocent! I swear I’m innocent!”
