Chapter 285

She instructed the servant to summon the steward, while Li Linshan weighed whether the chest should be sent directly to the Ministry of Justice or elsewhere. By the time the steward arrived, Li Linshan had yet to decide, but Wang Xiujin spoke up first. “Uncle Li, there are some things in this chest. Would you be so kind as to deliver it to the Censorate and hand it over to my father personally?”

The steward did not think much of it. He remembered that this chest had been brought in when Master Xiujin’s tutor from the academy came to visit. Several people saw it at the time, and it was known to be filled to the brim with silver. Now that Master Xiujin wanted it sent to the Censorate, and insisted it be handed directly to Master Wang, he assumed the silver was being sent out. The steward readily agreed, summoned a few sturdy men, and together they carried the chest out. Those carrying it noted its heft and quietly speculated about just how much silver it contained.

When Lord Wang heard that his son had sent him a chest, he found it odd and questioned the steward from the General’s estate if his son had left any message. Upon hearing that it was to be delivered “personally,” Lord Wang simply nodded, dismissed the steward, and circled the chest before finally opening it. Seeing a man bound inside, Lord Wang’s mouth twitched; after some thought, he had a fair guess as to the identity of the person within. Before the captive could react, Lord Wang closed the lid again and ordered his men to carry the chest to the Ministry of Justice.

When the officials at the Ministry saw Lord Wang arrive with a chest typically used for transporting silver, they found it peculiar. What could Lord Wang’s intentions be? Once the chest was opened and they saw a man inside, the officials’ lips twitched. They had the bound man removed and thrown into the dungeon.

“Lord Wang, this man...?”

“My son sent him to me,” Lord Wang replied, hands clasped behind his back as he walked with the chief examiners of the Kou Kingdom case toward the dungeon. “They couldn’t hold back any longer.” The chief examiner agreed with Lord Wang’s assessment—indeed, their opponents’ patience had run out. The question was how much this small fry knew, and whether they could follow the thread to catch the bigger fish.

The small fry did not last a single round of questioning before confessing everything he knew. He had simply taken money to do a job and could name precisely who had hired him; if the deed were done, he’d have received a hundred taels. The examiners, hearing that Li Linshan’s life had been valued at just a hundred taels, felt an indescribable mix of emotions. The fourth prince, listening nearby, wore a stormy expression; the man who had taken a blade on Li’s behalf was worth a hundred taels—what did that say about his own life?

Acting on the information provided, arresting officers rounded up a chain of individuals, interrogating them through the night. The investigation pointed directly to Liu, the Secretary of the Imperial Secretariat. The chief examiners exchanged bitter smiles. Lord Liu was close to the Emperor himself—how were they to proceed with such a case? The fourth prince’s face was icy. Liu’s sister was currently a consort in the palace, mother to a daughter—not especially favored, but never having fallen from grace.

When the palace gates opened, the fourth prince entered with the night’s confessions in hand. The examiners and associate judges, all drawn and weary, composed themselves in preparation to attend court.

Meanwhile, those recuperating at home were unaware of how the investigation had progressed. Li Linshan, lacking any summons from his elders, remained at home, his wounds still tightly bound. Little Yachang, rising early, joined his father in the martial room to watch his uncles practice boxing, occasionally mimicking their movements with tiny fists. Li Linshan had no intention of having his son train so young; the child was still too small—at least not before summer.

Compared to Li Linshan’s shoulder injury, Wang Xiujin’s abdominal wound required more careful tending. He was still on a liquid diet; even through the New Year festivities, as others feasted, he subsisted on gruel alone—a bitter fate. On waking to yet another bowl of nourishing porridge, Wang Xiujin could barely hide his resentment, nearly wishing to set the entire courtyard alight. The servant delivering the porridge pleaded with him to eat, and after a few reluctant spoonfuls, Wang Xiujin found each bite harder to swallow than the last.

Li Linshan entered with his son to find Wang Xiujin swallowing porridge as if it were medicine.

“Dad, is porridge worse than medicine?” Yachang clung to the bedside, watching his father’s pained expression with concern. How could the kitchen staff make porridge so unpalatable? No wonder his father had grown thinner lately.

Wang Xiujin quickly smoothed his expression, but the sight of the porridge still made him queasy; he set the bowl aside. He knew it had been carefully prepared with nourishing ingredients, but it was truly hard to eat.

“Have the kitchen make something different next time. Don’t keep serving the same thing,” Li Linshan said, taking the bowl from Xiujin and tasting it himself. The flavor was indeed poor. Pushing the bowl toward his son, Yachang covered his mouth with chubby hands, signaling he wanted none of it. Judging from his fathers’ faces, it was clearly undrinkable.

Wang Xiujin was amused by his son’s reaction. Glancing outside, he wondered why, at this hour, the courtyard was still so quiet. In the past, visitors would have already arrived. “Did the steward block the door to guests today?”

“No,” the servant replied carefully.

Wang Xiujin nodded, exchanging a glance with Li Linshan. “Tell the steward to close the doors and decline all visitors.”

The tumult in the imperial court had everyone on edge. That day’s morning audience was delayed by a full hour, and when the ministers finally assembled, they could all sense the Emperor’s foul mood. Some, whether from guilt or timidity, shrank like quails. After settling on the throne, the Emperor did not summon anyone to rise, but gazed coldly at the kneeling civil and military officials. He reflected bitterly: How had he treated his ministers? He believed himself fair, yet since ascending the throne, corruption and treachery had never ceased. The Emperor let out a deep sigh, startling the ministers. What could have happened?

A close attendant stepped forward to announce the Emperor’s pre-written decree: Secretary Liu was stripped of his office and handed over to the Ministry of Justice for investigation. The assembled officials murmured inwardly. Why transfer him to the Ministry, not the Censorate? No one dared plead on Liu’s behalf. Secretary Liu himself, utterly ashen, offered no resistance—not even a plea for mercy.

His reaction unsettled the ministers further, especially those who had once allied themselves with him. What grave matter had occurred? Those in the know breathed a collective sigh of relief, drenched in cold sweat.

After dealing with Liu, the Emperor still did not allow the officials to rise. He continued to regard them with icy contempt. These were the men he had once valued, yet corruption and betrayal abounded among them. The Emperor clenched his fists, suppressing the urge to have every one of these infuriating ministers executed.

For more than two hours, the court knelt in silence, no sound but the ritual acclamation of “Long live the Emperor.” None dared so much as twitch. Only when the Emperor’s attendant finally called the session to a close did the ministers dare to breathe. After seeing the Emperor off, they helped one another to their feet, eager to learn what had transpired, but no one dared speak the question aloud. They parted with bitter smiles, returning home or to their offices, all subdued. The once fawning and ingratiating were nowhere to be seen.

As noon approached, with no word from their elders, Wang Xiujin looked to Li Linshan, who nodded. It seemed someone had been arrested, but who? And would this lead to Kou’s true intentions?

What did Kou intend? Kou sought to conquer the mainland. Their lands were barren, unable to feed their own people; those who lived by the sea faced constant threat from the tides and frequent earthquakes. To secure fertile inland territory, they set their sights on conquering Dayang. To the chief examiners, this plan sounded like a fantasy, but as they listened to Kou’s schemes, their faces darkened.

Fengan had long been considered Kou’s entry point into Dayang, but years ago, newly appointed Wang Xiubo had thwarted their plans, eliminating or exiling all of Kou’s agents. Fortunately, Wang Xiubo had focused only on purging personnel, never uncovering Kou’s deeper plots. In retaliation, Kou targeted Wang Xiubo and the Wang family, sending agents to approach Lady Wang Chun, hoping to use her as a pawn to disrupt the family, but failed.

Kou’s grudge against the Wang family was merely vengeful. If they could seize the family’s wealth, all the better; if not, they would simply wait until they conquered Dayang and take it by force. Now, their sights were set on Li Linshan’s household.

Hearing Liu’s confession, the fourth prince’s face was ashen with fury, his anger barely in check. Just because Liu’s sister had failed to produce a male heir, and saw no hope of the imperial succession, he sought to incite war, invite the Kou to invade, then use private troops to quell them and take the throne himself. The prince could hardly restrain his rage, rising to deliver a vicious kick.

No one stopped him, though they made sure he didn’t kill the man—every examiner present felt the same urge to kick Liu. They might have been corrupt or self-serving, but none had ever entertained thoughts of rebellion, nor wished to plunge the realm into chaos.

The fourth prince’s attendants restrained him, whispering a few words before leading him away. The chief examiners exchanged glances—well, it was time for them to enter the palace and lay everything bare. After this New Year, Kou’s days were surely numbered.

When the Emperor heard his son’s report, his face turned grim. That trusted confidant had harbored treasonous intent all along. Clenching his teacup, the Emperor crushed it in his grasp, blood streaming from his hand and alarming the attendants, who hastened to summon the imperial physician while the rest knelt in terror.

In the harem, a certain consort, upon learning her brother had been sent to the Ministry of Justice by imperial decree, collapsed for a long while before finally rising to retrieve a length of white silk she had prepared long ago from her trunk.