“I simply want a fair resolution to this.”
The voice of Cheng Jiao-niang echoed through the cramped room.
“Married women are denied their dowries—especially the dowry left by my own mother. Can you testify to this in court?”
Testify…
Second Madam Cheng felt somewhat dazed. Suddenly, she couldn’t recall what she had come here for so late at night.
At first, she had heard that the Zhou family had openly tried to seize those shops and farmlands. Though startled, she hadn’t taken it too seriously—after all, how could anyone just snatch them away so easily? But then she learned that not only had they taken action, but they had also submitted a petition to the authorities demanding the dowry!
It was no surprise that the Zhou family wanted the dowry; she had expected it all along. Such a big fuss could only be about money. In fact, it would have been strange if the Zhou family hadn’t demanded it.
She had long since made up her mind: rather than following the eldest branch of the family and settling for scraps, it was better to join forces with the Zhou family and share the meat. Weren’t they, after all, the ones most qualified to decide this matter? They had the strongest footing—they were Cheng Jiao-niang’s parents, the primary decision-makers in matters of marriage. As long as they dared to openly break with the eldest branch…
She hadn’t yet figured out exactly how to break with the eldest branch when she heard that Cheng Jiao-niang had submitted a petition to the authorities demanding a clear judgment on the dowry. Second Madam Cheng was overjoyed.
This way, the issue of the dowry was back on the table, and their second branch wouldn’t have to take the lead. They could simply wait for the Zhou family and the eldest branch to fight like the clam and the snipe, while they reaped the rewards.
The only thing they needed to do was to coax this foolish girl into obeying them.
That was why she had persuaded Second Master Cheng to visit Cheng Jiao-niang tonight—first, to express their indignation and concern, and second, to inform her that they had decided to arrange a better marriage for her. She needn’t worry about the marriage agreed upon by the eldest branch and could boldly confront them without hesitation.
But now, what was happening?
They hadn’t even had a chance to speak, hadn’t achieved any of their goals, and yet they were being handed a knife—and being asked to use it to strike a harsh blow against the eldest branch.
How had they become the ones causing the uproar? This… this wasn’t right…
Second Madam Cheng felt her thoughts were in disarray.
“Jiao… Jiao-niang, this matter requires careful consideration,” she stammered.
“You truly intend to take this to court?” Second Master Cheng exclaimed, snapping back to reality with a mix of shock and anger. “An unmarried daughter like you, going to court over a dowry—have you no shame? And you want us to testify? You…”
“In that case, please take your leave,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied, bowing slightly.
Blackmail! Second Master Cheng shook his sleeve and made to rise, but Second Madam Cheng quickly reached out to restrain him.
“Jiao-niang, your father is only concerned for your reputation,” she said hurriedly, steering the conversation back to their original purpose. “Jiao-niang, we came today because there’s something we need to tell you…”
“All matters can be discussed after the dowry issue is settled,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied with another calm bow. “It is getting late. You should rest early.”
Checkmate!
Second Master and Madam Cheng were once again struck speechless.
“But… but it’s about a marriage proposal—a favorable one…” Second Madam Cheng stammered urgently, trying to continue.
“No dowry, no marriage,” Cheng Jiao-niang interrupted, rising to her feet. “I wish to rest now.”
As she spoke, Ban Qin, waiting under the eaves outside the door, immediately called out, “Escort Second Master and Second Madam out!” Several attendants, who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere in the courtyard, swiftly stepped forward.
“What are you doing? How dare you push me, you lowly scum!”
Second Master Cheng’s furious voice erupted in the room.
“There’s no need to push! Who would want to stay here anyway?”
“Jiao-niang, this is an excellent match… Just hear us out—you’ll understand once we explain…”
Amid the jostling, Cheng Jiao-niang paid no attention to their words. She turned away, standing before the screen.
Second Madam Cheng, shielded by her maids, blocked the shoving of the Zhou family attendants. Through the swaying arms and shifting shoulders, she caught a glimpse of the woman’s figure standing by the screen. Under the dim lamplight, her brocade overdress cascaded like water onto the floor, gleaming as coldly as the white-feathered arrowheads placed on the nearby table.
If they didn’t show some sincerity now, all the benefits would go to the Zhou family!
“We’ll testify! We’ll testify!” Second Madam Cheng blurted out.
At her words, Second Master Cheng stared at her in disbelief.
The room fell silent. The Zhou family attendants, who had been as fierce as tigers moments earlier, instantly withdrew as meekly as lambs. Cheng Jiao-niang turned back from the screen, a faint smile gracing her lips.
“Please, have a seat,” she said, gesturing politely. Then she glanced toward Ban Qin standing by the door. “Serve the tea.”
…
At daybreak, First Master Cheng had already arrived by carriage at the government office. Song Xian, the prefect of Jiang-zhou, resided in the official quarters provided behind the magistrate.
Having served in Jiang-zhou for three years, Song Xian was thoroughly familiar with the region and had naturally built a good rapport with First Master Cheng. Shortly after his visiting card was presented, a servant personally came out to welcome him.
In the study, Song Xian, his silver hairpin holding back his hair and dressed in a Taoist robe, greeted him with a warm smile.
“Zhongwen, your timing is impeccable today. I was just about to try some freshly brewed tea,” he said, spreading his hands in a cheerful gesture.
First Master Cheng also smiled.
“No wonder I caught a whiff of something fragrant, yet it didn’t quite smell like regular tea,” he remarked.
The two walked hand-in-hand into the study, where tea utensils were indeed arranged on a short couch. They sat down as host and guest, exchanging casual pleasantries for a while.
“What brings you here, Zhongwen?” Prefect Song asked with a smile as he poured tea.
Having navigated the complexities of officialdom for so many years, he certainly didn’t believe First Master Cheng had come simply because he’d caught a whiff of tea.
First Master Cheng did not get straight to the point. Instead, he sighed, picked up his teacup, and drained it in one go.
“It’s rather shameful to say—truly, my family has fallen into misfortune,” he said, then proceeded to explain the situation.
“How could such a thing happen?” Prefect Song exclaimed in astonishment, nearly dropping the teapot in his hand.
As had been agreed the previous day, the clerk had managed to keep the matter under wraps. Whether due to negligence or greed, the assistant prefect had neither reported it nor sought the prefect’s instructions.
Like all officials, Song Xian deeply detested subordinates who acted on their own authority and disregarded his position. The so-called “freedom to act” meant one could only do what he permitted—not whatever one pleased.
“So you mean to say you were unaware, Your Excellency?” First Master Cheng feigned surprise, a hint of apology in his tone. “It seems I misjudged you. I had thought perhaps you held some grievance against me, or that the Zhou family’s influence had left you with no choice…”
Prefect Song’s expression darkened further.
The Zhou family held official rank, but so what? A mere military official from the capital dared to extend his reach into his jurisdiction and even manipulate his subordinates?
Did they think they could take advantage of him just because his term was nearing its end? He wasn’t gone yet—were they already treating him as irrelevant?
The more Prefect Song thought about it, the angrier he became. He slammed his hand down on the table with a sharp crack.
“What is the meaning of this? I may be unwell, but I am not dead yet!” he thundered, rising to his feet. “Zhongwen, please wait here for a moment. I will go and demand an explanation.”
First Master Cheng quickly rose and bowed respectfully. Watching as the prefect stormed off with a dark expression, he smoothed his robes and settled back onto the short couch. Picking up the tea set, he began brewing tea himself, softly humming a tune, exuding an air of complete ease and contentment.
Oh, you Old Shan Zhou—did you really think that by making that foolish girl appear clever, you could use her as a weapon in the eyes of the world? The young are so naive, and women so ignorant. How dare they resort to such methods? Who do they think they can intimidate?
Not that such tactics are entirely useless, but they should never have bypassed the prefect and tried to win over the assistant prefect alone. When there’s a tiger in the mountains, how could a monkey ever be allowed to play king?
Of course, if they had come straight to the prefect from the start—to dispute inheritance, a child accusing her parent—coupled with the prefect’s relationship with me, they would likely have been bound and delivered to the Cheng family on the spot.
Only an inexperienced and greedy official like the assistant prefect would be swayed by the Zhou family’s reputation.
First Master Cheng chuckled softly to himself and shook his head as he poured the steaming tea into a cup.
I must say, the prefect’s tea is decent—but it still falls short of what I usually enjoy. Once this matter is settled, perhaps I’ll generously share some of my finest tea with him. Let him taste what truly exceptional tea should be like.
Ban Qin stepped through the doorway and saw Cheng Jiao-niang putting away her bow and arrows, while Jin Ge’er cheerfully counted the straw targets.
“Miss,” Ban Qin said, picking up a cloak from nearby and draping it over Cheng Jiao-niang’s shoulders. “The children at the street corner say the First Master has gone to see Prefect Song.”
Cheng Jiao-niang gave a soft hum of acknowledgment and turned to enter the house.
“They say the First Master and the Prefect are on very good terms,” Ban Qin added.
“Terms?” Cheng Jiao-niang replied, unfastening her cloak. “Rules are far more reliable.”
Ban Qin still felt uneasy.
“Miss, should we make some additional preparations?” she asked. “Earlier, someone from the Qin family came to see me. They wondered if they might have an audience with you. What Second Madam Cheng said last night was true—it turns out Madam Qin has indeed proposed several marriage matches for you…”
Cheng Jiao-niang smiled.
“There’s no need for additional preparations now,” she said, a faint smile gracing her lips. “If Cao Gui and the others hadn’t been thrown into prison yesterday, we might have needed other plans. But since they were imprisoned, everything is fine.”
Everything is fine?
Cheng Jiao-niang loosened her hair, letting it fall freely.
“As I’ve said, connections and personal favors are no match for rules. What is most reliable is what operates beyond personal sentiment,” she remarked, turning back to Ban Qin with a gentle smile. “And judging by yesterday’s outcome, this judicial officer is a reliable man.”
This judicial officer is reliable?
Ban Qin still didn’t fully understand, but then again, not everything in the world needed to be grasped so clearly. All she needed to know was whom she followed.
Some people chart the course, while others walk the path—each fulfills their role according to their ability.
“Miss, let me assist you with your washing,” she said.
“What? They can’t be driven out?” Prefect Song exclaimed in astonishment upon hearing his subordinate’s report, his anger flaring even hotter.
This Judicial Officer Li—had his wings truly hardened so much that he dared to openly defy his orders?
“Your Excellency, Judicial Officer Li said not only can they not be driven out, but he also intends to hold a public hearing,” the attendant replied.
“A public hearing for a case that violates all moral principles?” Prefect Song fumed. “Has that son of a carpenter, Li, been frightened out of his wits by the title of a capital official? This is Jiang-zhou, not the capital!”
Judicial Officer Li’s ancestors had been carpenters, and even his father had practiced the trade, hence the derisive nickname “son of a carpenter” used behind his back. Of course, such a scornful and mocking term was only heard among his rivals or those who held a grudge against him.
That Prefect Song referred to him this way showed he was truly enraged.
“Your Excellency, Judicial Officer Li stated that while he accepted Lady Cheng’s petition regarding the dowry, the case he intends to hear is not about that. Instead, it concerns the brawling incident brought forward by the plaintiffs,” the attendant hurriedly explained. “Moreover, since the principal offender has voluntarily surrendered, the victims must be summoned to testify.”
So that’s how it is? Can they really proceed this way?
Prefect Song frowned, stroking his beard thoughtfully for a moment.
“How cunning!” he sneered, flicking his sleeve. “To think they could devise such a scheme—accepting the petition under one pretext while using it to convene a hearing for another matter. That son of a carpenter certainly lives up to his name, crafting his maneuvers with such finesse. Very well, let the hearing proceed. I want to see how far the Zhou family will go, relying on their influence and deceit to force through this lawsuit. Do they truly believe all officials in Jiang-zhou are as pliable as that carpenter’s son?”
