Chapter 68

By the time Liu Yuanxun arrived at Dali Temple, two men were already waiting in the courtroom.

One was Wang Mingzhang, his face etched with panic as he was forced to kneel on the ground. He was around forty years old. The other was Wang Youqi, his hair entirely white and his body frail with age. He sat quietly on a grand chair with his eyes closed.

At the sound of footsteps outside, Wang Mingzhang trembled even more violently, not daring to so much as lift his head. Wang Youqi, however, slowly opened his eyes and looked toward Liu Yuanxun and Shen Wei, who were walking side by side at the front of the group.

As soon as Wang Youqi stirred, a servant behind him quickly stepped forward to help him stand. But Wang Youqi waved the servant away. His body, thin as a skeleton, swayed in place for a moment before he slowly bent his knees to kneel.

Age had sapped his strength. His knees had barely bent when his whole body crashed heavily to the ground. He lay there for a long while, unable to straighten up. Yet in that undignified posture, Wang Youqi knocked his head on the floor toward Liu Yuanxun. “Your Highness,” he said, “this old minister has failed to teach his son properly and dragged you into this mess. You’ve suffered on our account.”

Wang Youqi was once a high official, now retired. Liu Yuanxun had no choice but to go and help him up himself. But Liu Yuanxun lacked the strength too, so in the end, Ling Ting was the one who lifted the old man to his feet.

No matter their private suspicions, they had to keep up appearances. Liu Yuanxun let out a sigh and took a seat on the grand chair to the right of Wang Youqi’s position. He spoke in a low voice. “Your descendants have brought sin upon themselves. It’s you who’ve suffered the most.”

Wang Youqi gave him a vacant stare, as if the whole affair had drained every last bit of his vitality and spirit. Only after a long pause did he let out a heavy sigh.

Since Wang Mingzhang had been brought into the courtroom under guard, it meant Shen Wei had solid evidence in hand. But as for the sentencing, it would depend on what that evidence proved.

Under the Tianyong Code of Laws, regardless of whether a young girl or a ger had consented, if they were under twelve years old, the perpetrator faced immediate execution by hanging. If under fourteen, the sentence ranged from five to ten years in prison depending on the severity of the offense, after which the offender was barred from holding any government office.

Once Shen Wei took his seat in the courtroom, he wasted no words. He went straight to the point. “Wang Mingzhang, do you admit your guilt?”

Wang Mingzhang shook uncontrollably. The evidence had all been seized right in front of him, and he knew he couldn’t escape his crimes. At this moment, he only hoped Shen Wei would be lenient and sentence him to prison instead. Even five years behind bars would do. Once he got out, with the wealth he’d accumulated over the years, he could move elsewhere and live comfortably as a wealthy gentleman.

His confession came readily enough, his face full of remorse. “I admit my guilt, I admit it! I lost my head to lust—blinded by desire. I… I’ve let down my third brother, let down my father, and let down all the ancestors of the Wang family.”

Shen Wei shot him a look of disgust. Considering his straightforward admission, he decided to make it quick. “Since you’ve confessed, that saves us a lot of trouble. Under the laws of our dynasty, seducing and assaulting a young girl is punished as murder. Wang Mingzhang is hereby sentenced to death by hanging, to uphold the national law.”

“Hanging?” Wang Mingzhang jerked his head up, his voice turning shrill with shock. “No, no, no—you’ve got it wrong, Lord Shen! It can’t be hanging. How could it be? With Yin’er… Yin’er…”

He racked his brain, trying to remember how old Yin’er had been on their first night together. Only now did he realize with horror that he had never paid attention to Wang Yuyin’s age. He only remembered her as a delicate little girl radiating nobility. As soon as she matured even a little, she stirred unbearable desire in him. A bit of sweet talk, and he had lured her easily into his room.

She had called him “Uncle,” trusting him completely. Whatever he said, Wang Yuyin never doubted him—not even when she hesitated briefly. A stern glare from him, and she would timidly lower her head, never daring to resist.

By the time she understood what was happening between men and women, it was far too late to turn back.

But… hanging? That couldn’t be right!

Wang Mingzhang scrambled forward on his knees, trying to grab Shen Wei’s robe. The bailiffs held him down firmly, leaving him to flail his hands desperately in the air as he shouted, “I take it back! I won’t admit it, Lord Shen! What evidence proves she was twelve? She couldn’t have been—just twelve!”

Shen Wei let out a cold laugh and opened a box. “For that, I have you to thank. If you hadn’t so carefully preserved the gifts from Wang Yuyin all these years, we might not have been able to convict you.”

A box? What was inside it?

Wang Mingzhang couldn’t remember. He only recalled that under his coaxing, Wang Yuyin had given herself to him body and soul. Because of their positions, they could only meet occasionally, but she always brought him little trinkets as tokens of their bond. He had kept them as trophies, hidden away in a secret compartment in his study.

But what Wang Yuyin had given him were just things like handkerchiefs, incense sachets, and jade pendants—mere ornaments. How could those seal his death sentence?

Seeing that Wang Mingzhang still refused to accept it, Shen Wei took the Peace Jade Pendant from the box and pointed to a small white bead used as decoration. “Do you know what this is?”

Wang Mingzhang blinked. A pearl? Jade marrow? A porcelain bead?

“A bone bead.” Shen Wei’s gaze was icy as he stared him down, determined to let him die knowing the truth. “It’s made from the leg bone of the child you never saw born.”

An infant’s bones were fragile and hard to age by inspection alone, but this jade pendant was engraved with the specific year, month, and day—along with the words “A gift from Yin’er to her uncle.”

Shen Wei looked at Wang Mingzhang as if he were already a corpse. “According to the date on the pendant, Wang Yuyin was only twelve years and three months old when she gave you this bone bead. As everyone knows, a fetus doesn’t develop bones until the fourth month. If you still want to deny it, go ahead and test it with your blood. See if this really is the bone of your own flesh and blood!”

“That’s impossible… no, it can’t be…” Wang Mingzhang could only mutter the same words over and over. In his daze, fragments of memory surfaced, but nothing clear. He had never taken Wang Yuyin seriously, always assuming he had her completely in his grasp. Only now did he realize he had left behind such damning evidence.

Shen Wei dismissed it as the babble of a man facing death. He ignored him and announced coldly, “The facts of this case are clear, the evidence irrefutable, and the criminal Wang Mingzhang has confessed. Under the laws of our dynasty, he is sentenced to death by hanging. Once the review is complete, the execution will proceed immediately!”

“No! No, Lord Shen!” Wang Mingzhang panicked completely. He crawled forward on his knees for two steps before the bailiffs forced him back down. He could only turn his head and wail at Wang Youqi, tears and snot streaming down his face. “Father! Save me, Father! I don’t want to die—I don’t want to die! Father, please save me… please save me…”

Liu Yuanxun had watched the entire scene in silence. Only when Wang Mingzhang began pleading with Wang Youqi did he turn to the old man at his side and smile faintly. “So he’s just a useless fool who can only cry to his daddy for help. No wonder Lord Wang discarded him so easily.”

Wang Youqi had kept his eyes closed, tears streaming silently down his face. At Liu Yuanxun’s words, his eyelids twitched faintly. After a long moment, he slowly lifted his wrinkled eyelids. His cloudy eyes made even his despair seem aged beyond measure. No one could bear to blame such a pitiful figure.

He turned his head to meet Liu Yuanxun’s gaze. His tears still flowed, but his tone was utterly flat. “This old minister is incompetent and failed in his duties as a father. Both my sons are worthless. You’ve seen our shame, Your Highness.”

Liu Yuanxun smiled faintly. “It’s hardly a laughing matter. After all, you still have a daughter to carry on the family name. The Wang family hasn’t fallen yet.”

Wang Youqi’s face twitched, and his tears gradually stopped.

Up close, Liu Yuanxun noticed that the old man’s right eye was covered by a thin film of white cataract, nearly blind. He let out a sigh, as if moved by pity, and advised him gently. “Lord Wang, you’ve been an upright official your whole career. Don’t stray from the path now.”

Shen Wei paid no mind to their quiet exchange. After passing judgment, he ordered the bailiffs to drag Wang Mingzhang off to the cells.

Amid Wang Mingzhang’s piercing wails, Wang Youqi didn’t spare him a single glance. Instead, he looked at Liu Yuanxun and said, “Oh? Does Your Highness have any advice?”

“I wouldn’t dare offer advice,” Liu Yuanxun replied. He raised a hand and pointed toward the sun hanging high outside. “But just look—the sun has come out, and nothing can stay hidden anymore. Everything has to see the light.”

Wang Youqi followed his gesture to the doorway and squinted at the sky for a long moment. In the end, he just shook his head regretfully. “When you’re old, your eyes fail you. I can’t see it clearly. I’ve lived my whole life, and I’ve never believed in that nonsense about heaven watching over us. I only know that most people rise with the sun and rest when it sets. We can only follow the sun’s rhythm—we can’t make it rise when we want. Whether the sky brightens isn’t up to us. It’s the sun that decides, by rising.”

Liu Yuanxun smiled. “So Lord Wang means you’ll get to work whenever the sky brightens, is that it?”

Wang Youqi didn’t answer. He took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. Instead, he asked another question. “In Your Highness’s view, what sentence will my third son receive?”

Liu Yuanxun said, “Lord Wang was deceived by villains. Now that the truth has come out, beating the Drum of Grievances wasn’t entirely baseless. But by the rules, there will still be some physical punishment.”

With Wang Mingzhang dealt with, it was Wang Mingxuan’s turn.

Shen Wei always upheld the law impartially. He neither showed mercy nor excessive harshness. Considering that Wang Mingxuan had been misled into beating the Drum of Grievances, he reduced the original sentence of fifty lashes to just five. With that, the matter was settled.

The dazed Wang Mingxuan was led away to receive his whipping. Wang Youqi, having lost his eldest son, had no reason to linger. He tried several times to rise from his chair but kept falling back. In the end, with the help of a young attendant, he barely managed to stand.

Wang Youqi cupped his hands shakily. “Your Highness, Lord Shen, this old minister will take his youngest son and go now. We’ve troubled you all with the Wang family’s affairs. I’ll call on you another day to apologize properly.”

The Wang family business had little to do with Liu Yuanxun to begin with. Shen Wei had brought him to Dali Temple mainly because of Feng Hu and Tang Meiniang—and the larger case connected to them.

Seeing that Shen Wei seemed ready for a longer talk with Liu Yuanxun, Ling Qing whispered from behind him, “Master, it’s almost afternoon. You haven’t taken your midday medicine yet…”

The words were clearly meant for Shen Wei to hear.

Shen Wei nodded in understanding. “My oversight. Your Highness, please rest here in Dali Temple for now. We can discuss things after lunch.”

Liu Yuanxun nodded. “Very well.”

Shen Wei then summoned a servant and instructed him to escort Liu Yuanxun to a side hall.

Ling Ting, wary of anyone tampering with the food, went straight out to supervise the kitchen. Ling Qing hurried off to brew the medicine. In moments, the room held only Liu Yuanxun and Gu Lianzhao.

Things had gone almost too smoothly today—especially that bone bead pendant engraved with a date. It was almost as if someone had planted it there deliberately.

Liu Yuanxun cradled his cup of hot tea and asked in a low voice, “Have they found the remains of the Wang family girl?”

Gu Lianzhao shook his head. “Wang Yuyin has been missing for half a month now. That’s plenty of time to dispose of a body. Unless she suddenly turns up alive, we’ll have no choice but to declare her dead and close the case.”

Liu Yuanxun frowned slightly and sighed softly. “What a pity.”

From his personal perspective, Gu Lianzhao did not believe there could be so many coincidences in the world, nor did he believe the heavens truly watched over mortals, delivering justice to the wronged. Rather than accept that Wang Mingzhang had gotten his just deserts, he was more inclined to think it was all evidence Wang Yuyin had deliberately left behind before her death.

But he was not Wang Yuyin, and all of this was mere conjecture on his part. Aside from the woman herself, no one else would ever know what thoughts had truly crossed her mind when she handed over those items.

Seeing him fall silent, Gu Lianzhao lifted his gaze to look at Liu Yuanxun, suddenly realizing it had already been three days since they last met.

Liu Yuanxun cradled a teacup in his hands, his brows furrowed, his lips pale, his complexion ashen. The healthy glow he’d only recently regained had vanished entirely. Dressed all in white, he resembled a sheet of paper drained of ink, and the sight yanked painfully at Gu Lianzhao’s heart.

The pang came abruptly and fiercely, like a sneak thief hurling a hidden dart straight into his chest when he least expected it. Before he could even react, the sharp tug faded, leaving only an indescribable aftertaste lingering in his chest.

He closed his eyes briefly, suppressing the emotion churning in his heart. “Don’t think about it anymore,” he said. “The food won’t be ready for a while. Why don’t you lie down and rest?”

Liu Yuanxun shook his head, however, revealing a rare trace of exhaustion. “Once I rest, my spirits will collapse completely. I’m afraid I won’t last until afternoon. Fortunately, most of the matter has been resolved. We should be able to return to the estate tonight, and then I can rest.”

At that, he leaned in close to Gu Lianzhao and grumbled softly, “I don’t know what that bed in Prefect Bai’s side hall at the Capital Prefecture Yamen is made of. It’s so soft it leaves you feeling limp all over, unable to get any proper sleep. The beds back at the estate are much more comfortable.”

Though Liu Yuanxun’s face was pallid, his mental state seemed decent enough. Even as he muttered his complaint, a hint of bashfulness colored his tone, making him seem far more lively than when he had sat there earlier with downcast eyes, lost in thought.

Gu Lianzhao sat quietly beside him, listening without interruption, and Liu Yuanxun knew he was paying close attention. Others might have found Gu Lianzhao’s silence lacking in courtesy, but it suited Liu Yuanxun’s temperament perfectly.

He was a patient, moreover one whose body was gradually wasting away in every part. With such a frail frame, there were times when the discomfort grew so unbearable that he simply had to vent a little. Yet his personality made him ill-suited to complaining.

Whenever he felt pain, the people around him inevitably suffered along with him. And when they grew distressed on his account, he not only ached in sympathy but also felt crushing guilt. But with his sickly body barely holding together, he simply could not muster the strength to comfort others and tell them not to worry when he himself was on the verge of collapse.

All he could do was endure it, grit his teeth and bear on, saying at most that he was tired. But even then, whenever he claimed to be tired, it was not mere fatigue—it was agony he could no longer withstand.

That pain was the kind that came at the end of life, when the body teetered on the brink of total breakdown. He had no appetite because his stomach hurt and his throat burned; he spent most of his time lying down because his knees and back throbbed; every time he opened his eyes, it took ages to clear his mind because his head pounded and his chest ached.

The pains were not always acute, but they shadowed his every moment, tormenting him relentlessly. They had woven themselves so deeply into his waking seconds that he could scarcely tell anymore whether his suffering stemmed from illness or if life itself was simply this agonizing.

In the past, he had never voiced his discomforts. But now, he could share them with Gu Lianzhao, if only a little.

He knew Gu Lianzhao’s care for him fell far short of that from the Ling Clan siblings. Yet for Liu Yuanxun, this very distance—neither too close nor too remote—allowed him to unburden himself without any pressure.

It was like when he found the bed in the side room of the Capital Prefecture Yamen too soft and wanted to grumble to the person beside him: too soft, uncomfortable for sleeping. Such a complaint was more like casual chit-chat, akin to noting that the weather was a bit overcast today or the food a touch bland. He sought only a simple acknowledgment—”Yeah”—not for anyone to rush about swapping it out for bedding from the estate.

Just like now, when he said he was tired. He did not want to trouble anyone or hear reassurances; it was enough to know someone was listening.

Gu Lianzhao’s eyes resembled a fathomless icy pool. Liu Yuanxun’s woes and grumblings rippled across its surface before slowly dissolving away. He could complain without fear that his listener would ache over his frailty and grow distressed in turn.