Jiao Niang’s Medical Record Chapter 195

Amid the street thugs’ hoarse shouting, the onlookers began murmuring and pointing fingers, while the constables’ faces turned ashen with fright.

This was happening right there on the spot—under the broad daylight, under the gaze of all, without coercion or bribery, without collusion in testimony. These were people Wang Da himself had brought, not some planted scapegoats. For them to shout such things was nearly the same as confirming the truth.

What the hell was going on here?! They were supposed to be thrown into prison—how had it turned into them being fine while these people ended up half-dead, and even deserving it?!

Meanwhile, on the other side, Xu Maoxiu slowly unclenched the hand by his side, his palm damp with sweat.

It was done. It had worked.

A few street thugs—what did they matter? Just beat them to death, then.

In his mind appeared the wooden expression of that lady, and her words.

Xu Maoxiu let out a slow breath.

Yes—what did a few street thugs matter? Beating them to death was just beating them to death.

“Grandfather, Grandfather!”

Dou Qi stumbled and crawled his way forward, throwing himself at Secretariat Editor Liu’s feet, clutching at his sleeve.

“Grandfather, what are we supposed to do now?”

His face was deathly pale, his eyes bloodshot as he cried out.

Secretariat Editor Liu pulled his arm away with a hint of disgust, his expression grim and heavy.

“What to do? Don’t you know yourself?” he said, his voice laced with mockery and scorn. “Weren’t you always so capable?”

Dou Qi bowed his head to the ground and began sobbing aloud.

“You’ve really outdone yourself!” Secretariat Editor Liu snapped, glaring at the man groveling at his feet. “You’ve even learned to hire thugs to stir up trouble now? What, did you think you were still running a courier shop outside the capital? Have you no shame? If word got out, the reputable shops in the capital would laugh their heads off! Utter disgrace! You’re like mud that can’t stick to a wall! What the hell were you thinking?”

The more he spoke, the angrier he became—his voice turning shrill.

“I just can’t swallow this humiliation!” Dou Qi cried, wiping at his tears and snot. “That land is ours! Li Dashao was our cook—he worked for us for years and learned plenty of our secret recipes. That Tai Ping Residence only made it this far by taking advantage of us!”

Secretariat Editor Liu spat and looked at Dou Qi with visible disgust.

At first, he’d taken the man in because he had a bit of wit and was eager to curry favor. Plus, that tavern business had been quite profitable—a solid source of income. But looking at him now, he was nothing but a petty schemer.

“You’ve let greed cloud your judgment! How is any of that yours?” Secretariat Editor Liu scolded. “Such a petty, narrow heart! You’re just tormenting yourself for nothing!”

Dou Qi sobbed, the powder on his face streaked by tears, looking downright ridiculous.

“Grandfather, I just can’t take it lying down,” he repeated.

“Well, you have to swallow it!” Secretariat Editor Liu snapped, face darkening. “Fool! Think for a second—anyone who dares open a restaurant in the capital and manages to stand out in front of that old monk Minghai—do you think that’s some ordinary person? If he didn’t have powerful backing, would he still be standing? Those bald-headed thieving monks would’ve already taken over that Tai Ping Tofu! You think they’d leave it there just so you could frame him with a bunch of street thugs?”

Dou Qi wiped at his tears, his mind dazed and muddled. Only now did he seem to finally come to his senses.

“But… but I looked into it,” he said. “According to the official records, the registered owners of Tai Ping Residence are just those few out-of-towners…”

Secretariat Editor Liu let out another mocking snort.

“So what, the shareholding you gifted me wasn’t registered either—were you planning not to acknowledge it in the future?” he asked, his tone half-smiling, half-threatening.

Dou Qi hurriedly shook his head, saying he wouldn’t dare.

“You wouldn’t dare, but you think those out-of-towners would?” Secretariat Editor Liu snapped. “Idiot! What’s written on paper doesn’t mean a damn thing—the real power lies in what’s not written down!”

Dou Qi lowered his head, not daring to speak again. Deep down, of course he’d suspected as much—but he’d wanted to probe a little. He hadn’t expected the other side to be so ruthless. He’d barely reached out a hand before it got bitten clean off—and judging from the look of things, they even wanted to devour him whole.

“Grandfather, then… then what should I do now?” he asked dejectedly, head hung low.

Secretariat Editor Liu shot him a furious glare.

“You’re always dragging trouble to my doorstep!” he snapped. “Do you think it’s easy being a capital official? There are eyes watching my every move. I’ve kept myself clean and cautious all these years, and now I have to clean up your mess? Whatever it is, don’t come asking me!”

“Grandfather, I have no one else to turn to…” Dou Qi immediately broke down, wailing through tears and snot.

But the fact that the old man was willing to scold him—that was a good sign. Scolding still meant he cared, still meant he was involved. What he truly feared… was silence. When even rebuke stopped, that’s when it was over.

After a few exchanges, Secretariat Editor Liu summoned someone to ask,

“Where are they now?”

“Half an hour ago, they were all taken to the capital’s magistrate,” the attendant replied.

“The magistrate…” Secretariat Editor Liu murmured, looking pensive. “Since they’ve gone in…”

“Sir, people from Puxiu Temple have gone to the magistrate as well,” the attendant added in a low voice.

Those monks who lived beyond the dust of the mortal world might be vegetarians—but when it came to their presence and methods, they were far from mild.

The great temples and renowned monasteries had formidable reputations, with deeply entangled networks of influence.

Otherwise, how could they have seized more and more property over time, or taken in increasing numbers of laywomen serving in the temple…*

Secretariat Editor Liu’s face hardened, and he shot another glare at Dou Qi.

“Did you hear that? You fool!” he snapped.

Dou Qi kept his head down, not daring to say a word.

“The court has already responded. Tai Ping Residence is insisting that Wang Da personally confessed it was Zhu Wu who instructed them to steal the secret tofu recipe—and Wang Da’s attendants testified to the same,” the attendant continued.

“How could Wang Da confess? And besides, that’s not even what Zhu Wu told them to do!” Dou Qi shouted.

“Whether he confessed or not doesn’t matter anymore!” Secretariat Editor Liu barked. “Wang Da is dead—dead men can’t testify. And yet the living all say the same thing. On top of that, Zhu Wu did hand over a large sum of money.”

At this point, Secretariat Editor Liu’s face twisted in anger.

If you had to hire someone, at least find people who are reliable. Instead, you brought in the lowest of the low—pathetic street thugs. Took only a few rounds of questioning and they were completely shaken up, couldn’t even tell which way was north. Useless! All they managed to do was smash their own feet with the stone they lifted!

Secretariat Editor Liu got up and paced the room a few steps.

“We need to cut the knot with a swift blade,” he said, stopping mid-stride.

Dou Qi and the attendant both looked up at him.

“Tell Zhu Wu to take care of it himself,” Secretariat Editor Liu said coldly.

Dou Qi’s face was filled with shock.

“Grandfather… but—” he stammered, unable to believe what he’d just heard.

How could it come to this? The whole point was to teach those people at Tai Ping Residence a lesson—how did it end with sacrificing one of their own?

“Grandfather, isn’t there any other way? The case is already with the authorities… surely we can suppress it somehow…” He crawled forward a few steps, nearly begging.

“Another way?” Secretariat Editor Liu turned to look at him, his expression grim and heavy. “Then go find it yourself.”

To think he, Secretariat Editor Liu, would personally intervene for a petty street hustler—and potentially end up clashing with an opponent whose strength was still unknown? What a joke.

“As long as he ends it himself, I’ll have everything pinned on him. And I can make sure the authorities won’t pursue it any further,” he said.

Dou Qi was still struggling inwardly, reluctant to let go.

“Ever since your first attempt at causing trouble, to how they’ve handled things today—clean, decisive, ruthless,” Secretariat Editor Liu said calmly. “It’s been nearly three hours since the incident. If you hesitate any longer, and they manage to seize Zhu Wu, Dou Qi…”

He called out gently.

Dou Qi jolted and looked up at Secretariat Editor Liu.

“By then, I’m afraid the one in trouble won’t just be Zhu Wu—it’ll be you,” Secretariat Editor Liu said.

Dou Qi lowered his head in a bow.

“Yes… thank you, Grandfather, for your thorough guidance,” he said.

He had just wanted to trip them up, to disgust them a little—but never imagined it would end with a broken arm on his own side. This time, he had truly suffered a loss. Dou Qi lowered his head, gritting his teeth.

Tai Ping Residence!

As nightfall descended, Young Master Qin had become somewhat restless in his seat. The maids accompanying him noticed, as they rarely saw him this way.

“Young Master, why don’t we play a game of chess? I’ve improved quite a bit lately,” one of the maids suggested, pulling at him with a smile.

Young Master Qin chuckled and shook his head.

“My mind’s not here, it’s not here,” he said.

“Then where is your mind, Young Master?” asked the two playful maids, teasing. “Is it with some little lady?”

Young Master Qin laughed heartily and nodded.

“That’s right, it’s with a little lady,” he said, smiling.

The two maids exchanged a glance, uncertain—was he joking or serious?

The sound of footsteps came from outside the door, and Young Master Qin quickly leaned on his cane and walked a few steps to greet the guest.

Zhou Liu-lang entered with his cloak draped over one arm.

The maids hurriedly stepped forward to take the cloak, greeting him before retreating.

“How did it go?” Young Master Qin asked, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

Zhou Liu-lang lifted his robe and sat down, taking a sip of tea.

“About an hour ago, Zhu Wu was carried out from his outer chambers in Stone Alley, south of the city, wrapped in a straw mat,” he said.

Young Master Qin smiled knowingly, his expression full of meaning.

“Good,” he said. “Good.”

“These men are somewhat useful; their methods are ruthless, and they certainly have some guts,” Zhou Liu-lang said.

Young Master Qin looked at him and gave a slight smile.

“These men…” He dragged out the tone and repeated the words.

Zhou Liu-lang immediately shot him a glare.

“Why are you being all sarcastic?” he exclaimed.

Young Master Qin laughed heartily.

“You know the answer, and yet you ask me,” he said with a chuckle.

Zhou Liu-lang spat in disdain, then picked up his tea cup and drank it all in one go.

“However, these men are truly reliable. Just based on their actions—acting so boldly without hesitation—they’re definitely worth using,” Young Master Qin nodded and said with admiration.

That was murder—killing someone in broad daylight, in front of the crowd. Even though they had received assurances beforehand, there are always uncertainties in life.

What if none of the bystanders were fooled into testifying? What if the people from Puxiu Temple didn’t step forward to vouch for them? What if the ruffians’ backers decided to fight to the end?

No matter which “what if” became reality, no matter how much they tried to remedy the situation, those who took action directly would not escape punishment.

What kind of trust is this that they would disregard life and death? As long as she said it, they would act without hesitation.

There was a moment of silence in the room.

Young Master Qin suddenly thought of something and looked at Zhou Liu-lang, breaking the silence.

“Liu-lang, haven’t you always wondered what sincerity is? This is sincerity,” he hurriedly said.

Zhou Liu-lang scowled and spat, standing up.

“What sincerity! What nonsense are you talking about? I’m leaving!” he said impatiently, sweeping his sleeve as he strode out of the door.

Young Master Qin smiled and watched him leave, letting out a long sigh. He took a pen from the desk, dipped it in some ink, and casually drew two circles on the nearby screen.

“Another one…” he said slowly, holding the pen and gazing at the screen.

At one corner of the bird-wood stone screen, three rows of ink circles were drawn vertically. The first row had two circles, the second row five, and the newly added third row had one circle, its ink heavy and dark. Under the flickering light of the night lamp, the circles took on an eerie beauty.

Translator’s Note:

*During the Northern and Southern Dynasties, it became common for monks to marry. At that time, the wife of a monk also had a specific title:梵嫂（laywomen）, and young monks respectfully referred to her as师娘（Master’s wife）.

In the Tang Dynasty, although there were no laws specifically forbidding monks from marrying, in practice, it was not allowed for monks to take wives. If a monk was caught marrying, he would be punished with hard labor. This was mentioned in the previous conversation between the coachman and the maid.

The earliest legal prohibition on monks marrying appeared during the Song Dynasty, though it did not ban monks from living at the monasteries.