When the demoted official Lu Si’an was leaving the capital, he submitted a falsified memorial of impeachment to the Emperor’s desk, stirring up the Emperor’s fury. Within less than half a day, the news had spread throughout the court offices of the capital city. Everywhere people were whispering and speculating, unsettled and uneasy – wondering how many would suffer for this, and who might profit from it.
The uproar and resentment it caused were all within Lu Si’an’s expectations. What he had not foreseen was that, the moment the Emperor unsealed his memorial, the Censorate would send men to seize him from his home and throw him into their prison.
Now, as Lu Si’an was brought into the hall for questioning, the censor presiding high above the dais looked down at him with some irritation.
They were all court officials, seeing each other daily, but the censor felt no need for awkwardness – this was nothing unusual in his line of work.
What did make him uncomfortable, however, was Lu Si’an’s posture: chest thrust out, head held high.
Never mind that this was the dreaded Censorate, a place that made officials blanch at the mere mention of its name – Lu Si’an himself had never behaved this way before. He had always trailed behind Chen Shao and the others, obedient and submissive, fawning and cowardly, playing only at petty tricks. He was a soft-boned fellow, timid to the core. Since when did the words “righteous and upright” have anything to do with him?
“Lu Zheng, do you know your crime!” The censor slammed the wooden block on the desk with a sharp crack and shouted.
“I acknowledge the crime of overstepping rank and speaking out of turn,” Lu Si’an replied calmly.
“Dodging the greater charge to admit the lesser!” the censor sneered. “So you refuse to admit to the crime of fabricating slander and defaming imperial officials?”
Lu Si’an laughed.
“Fabricating slander? My lord, you give me too much credit. I admit I don’t have such ability. All I did was investigate the people’s grievances and report them truthfully.” He lifted his head proudly. “If you say that investigating the people’s plight is itself a crime, then I, Lu Zheng, will of course plead guilty.”
Inwardly the censor spat, but outwardly he changed his expression.
“Lu Zheng, why put yourself through this? We know you harbor resentment for being demoted and sent away…” he coaxed, his tone persuasive.
But before he could finish, Lu Si’an cut him off.
“You are mistaken. I bear no personal resentment. I merely give voice to the people’s grievances,” he declared with righteous conviction.
The censor looked at him, momentarily at a loss for words.
“Lu Zheng, have you truly steeled your heart to walk the road to ruin?” he asked.
Lu Si’an burst out laughing.
“How could this be a road to ruin? To investigate the people’s condition on behalf of the Emperor, to prevent powerful ministers from clouding the sovereign’s wisdom – this is a minister’s duty, this is a minister’s path.” His voice rang out loudly.
The censor shook his head and waved a hand, signaling for the guards to take him away. The first round of questioning rarely yielded much anyway. Although the Censorate could not apply torture to scholar-officials, there were other means. After wearing him down for a few days, he would surely come to his senses.
But Lu Si’an showed not the slightest fear. He turned, head held high and chest thrust forward, striding boldly – only to see, standing solemnly at the doorway, the Imperial Censorate Deputy, his expression grave.
“Lu Zheng.” As they were about to brush past each other, the Imperial Censorate Deputy called out to him.
Lu Si’an looked at him calmly.
“Where do you get the confidence to think Chen Shao can protect you this time?” the Imperial Censorate Deputy asked in a low voice.
Lu Si’an looked at him and laughed aloud.
“My confidence doesn’t come from any single person,” he said. “It comes from the people.”
Has this fellow gone mad? Perhaps, having been demoted to Nan–zhou and seeing no hope for his future, he had simply lost his mind.
The Imperial Censorate Deputy frowned at the thought – but his reason told him it could not be so simple. Lu Si’an was indeed staking his life on this, but the very confidence that drove him to risk his life now, rather than wait for Chen Shao to slowly rescue him later, was the key.
The people…
Had things truly blown up to such proportions this time?
“You there, go out into the streets and find out,” he summoned several clerks and ordered. “Ask around – how much of Lu Zheng’s illustration was exaggeration, and how much was truth?”
At that very moment, Liu Jinquan, the capital prefecture official in charge of the Right Division, was in a towering rage.
“What on earth is going on? How could you let some rabble-rousers stir up such a commotion, and yet you knew nothing about it! Are you all dead men?” he shouted. Ever since receiving the news, he had broken out in a cold sweat from fright.
He had, of course, heard about that funeral afterward, but all anyone said was that some wealthy family had spent lavishly on it – talk of how extravagant it was, how rich they must have been, and the mention of Tai Ping Residence, Immortal’s Abode. He hadn’t taken it to heart. Who would have thought Lu Si’an would seize upon it and make use of it!
The subordinates standing before him all wore anxious expressions.
No one had imagined that Lu Si’an – already a man on the brink of ruin – would dare to pull such a stunt. In truth, among the higher officials, it didn’t much matter who impeached whom; what mattered was that the illustration showed things that had really happened. It had happened here in the capital itself, stretching from the western gate clear to the eastern gate – territory that fell squarely under the jurisdiction of their Right Division.
And now that this matter had been laid before the Emperor, if the punishment were light, the prefect would not spare him; if it were heavy, even the Emperor himself would not spare him. Either way, he had been ruined – all because of Lu Si’an!
“Sir, this time it doesn’t seem like it was arranged by Minister Chen and his people,” someone said.
“If it wasn’t arranged by them, then where did all those people come from? Why did such a crowd suddenly rush out to watch some funeral procession?” Liu Jinquan shouted.
“They say the bereaved family handed out wine to everyone.”
“Yes, yes – an especially fine wine, the strongest…”
“My household servant managed to snatch a bowl, and he stayed drunk for two whole days before waking up!”
“Was it really that strong?”
As the talk in the room began to drift, Liu Jinquan snapped out of his daze and slammed the desk heavily once more.
“Wine!” he sneered. “It was all just because of the wine. Nothing like ‘the whole city sending off heroic souls’ – that’s Lu Si’an’s utter nonsense!”
Everyone thought it over carefully, and indeed it seemed so.
“It was all trouble stirred up by that wine!” they all nodded in agreement.
“This is easily dealt with.” Liu Jinquan nodded. “Those so-called Immortal’s Abode and Tai Ping Residence taverns are not licensed establishments. Arrest them all, and convict them for illegally brewing and selling liquor!”
He ground his teeth in hatred.
This whole affair was nothing more than unscrupulous merchants using wine sales as a gimmick – there was no such thing as popular grievances or public outrage!
Yes, it was that simple. If they defined the matter quickly and pressed it down before it could be connected to anything else, what more could Lu Si’an stir up?
Stroking his fine beard, Liu Jinquan even allowed himself a touch of pride. This time, without troubling the Prefect or Master Gao, he alone could resolve the matter – and would surely win their praise.
“What are you waiting for? Go! Take plenty of men and seal up those taverns at once!”
…
It had been five days since Xu Maoxiu and the others were laid to rest, when Fan Jianglin stepped out of his home and made his way to Tai Ping Residence.
Manager Wu personally accompanied him, introducing the new manager there.
Along the way, the shop boys all greeted him warmly and respectfully. Seeing Fan Jianglin’s calm expression in response, his wife, Lady Huang, gradually began to relax.
“Your room has always been kept for you,” Manager Wu said.
Lady Huang cast a worried glance at Fan Jianglin. Ever since they had returned home, reminders of his sworn brothers were everywhere – stories retold, mementos revisited – and each time it stirred grief anew. Yet Fan Jianglin’s face showed not the slightest trace of sorrow; instead, he seemed increasingly joyful. It was far too unusual.
“You needn’t worry.”
Once they were seated in the room, Fan Jianglin spoke with a smile.
“They were my brothers. I’ve lost them, yes – but I’m not afraid. Nor do I need to deliberately try to forget them.”
While the couple were talking, they suddenly heard a commotion outside.
“Master, Master!” Manager Wu hurried over, calling out. “The officials have arrived.”
The officials?
Lady Huang grew tense, but Fan Jianglin looked relaxed – in fact, he even smiled.
“So they’ve come after all. Sister has never been wrong,” he said as he stood up. “You wait here, I’ll go take a look.”
“Master, perhaps it would be better to invite them in,” Manager Wu suggested hesitantly.
Fan Jianglin smiled and shook his head.
“There’s nothing we need to keep hidden from others,” he said, and with that he strode out.
Tai Ping Residence was full of patrons, but at that moment everyone stopped eating and drinking to watch as several yamen runners stood in the middle, pointing about and drawing murmurs of speculation.
“Gentlemen officers,” Fan Jianglin stepped out from the back and bowed politely.
“You’re the owner here? Close the shop and come with us,” one of the magistrate runners said.
At once the noisy chatter around them fell silent, and every face showed astonishment.
“Shut down the shop?”
Meanwhile, over at Immortal’s Abode in the city, the maid, hearing the words of the magistrate runner before her, couldn’t help but laugh softly.
“And why is that?” she asked.
“Because you’ve been brewing liquor illegally,” the runner replied.
The murmurs in the hall suddenly grew louder. The reason most of them had gathered at the Immortal’s Abode today was because of that wine from a few days ago.
Although many of them hadn’t even managed to taste it, that didn’t stop them from imagining how exquisite it must have been.
Everyone in the capital knew that only licensed taverns, government-run wineries, and officially registered private wine houses were permitted to brew and sell alcohol. Otherwise, it was a serious crime – that much was common knowledge. But in reality, this rule only applied to commoners of no rank. The households of high officials and powerful nobles often brewed their own wine privately, and the authorities simply turned a blind eye.
So to charge someone with “illicit brewing” was, in truth, nothing but a pretext. There had to be another reason: perhaps someone had failed to pay off the right official, or perhaps some person coveted the business from behind the scenes.
Such delicious wine was bound to bring in huge profits, and that profit would inevitably draw greedy eyes. That was nothing unusual – but no one had expected it to happen so quickly.
The maid laughed.
“Sir, you’ve misunderstood. We neither brewed nor sold any wine ourselves,” she said. “This wine was purchased from Lu Laosi’s winery outside the city. We merely made a few improvements, and it was only used during the funeral. We didn’t charge anyone for it, and now it’s all gone. Where could there be any illicit brewing or selling?”
Is that so? So it had originally come from Lu Laosi’s winery!
At this, the eyes of everyone present lit up. Some, impatient, even started to rise and head out, only to be pulled back by their companions.
“Are you stupid? Didn’t you hear her say it was improved? Do you really think Lu Laosi’s wine on its own could taste that good?”
“Doesn’t matter if it was or not. At least now we know the source – let’s go get some to satisfy our craving first.”
“Of course there are witnesses,” said the leader.
“That’s impossible.” The maid shook her head firmly. “We have absolutely never sold any. And we have witnesses too.”
As she spoke, she looked around at the people in the hall.
“Has anyone here ever bought wine from us?” she asked.
“No.”
“If anyone has, I’ll buy it back from them myself – no matter how high the price.”
The hall resounded with voices in reply, mingled with laughter.
Seeing the hall erupting with noise, the magistrate runners grew uneasy and irritated.
“Enough nonsense! Shut the doors and come with us!” they barked loudly.
The maid looked at them and gave a cold smile.
“Officers, shouldn’t you at least give a reason?” she said.
“A reason, a reason – fine. You used wine as a gimmick to gather a crowd and cause a disturbance,” one runner said, seizing on an idea. “Spreading rumors, inciting the people!”
The maid blinked at him, then suddenly raised her hand to cover her mouth and burst into giggles. The more she laughed, the harder it became, until the hall grew silent and the runners themselves began to feel a chill of dread.
“What are you laughing at?” the magistrate runner shouted in anger and embarrassment.
“I should thank you,” the maid suddenly said, fixing her eyes on him.
Thank me?
The runner froze, still trying to process her words, when he saw the girl’s laughter abruptly vanish. Her expression hardened as she stepped forward.
“We offered wine, and the people came of their own accord – how does that count as us inciting a disturbance?” she demanded, pointing outside. “Right now, all those people are gathered because you came here to interrogate us. So does that mean you are the ones stirring up a disturbance?”
The runners instinctively turned their heads – and saw that at some point the street outside had filled with onlookers, the doorway packed with people craning their necks, while even more were flooding in, cramming the street until not a drop of water could have trickled through.
Their faces changed at once. How had so much time slipped by while they argued?
“Save your words for the magistrate – come with us…” the lead runner shouted, shaking out the iron chains in his hand.
But before he could step forward, the maid once again advanced a step and planted herself firmly before him.
“You want to arrest me? Shut down our tavern? We gave out wine to honor our master’s burial – how is that inciting a disturbance? Our master died, and you call that us spreading rumors? Our master died, and we gave him a proper funeral with some ceremony – does that count as agitating the people?” she said sharply. “Tell me, officer – what rumor is it? That our master did not die? Or that our master did not fall in battle?”
The young maid was still very young, her words quick and crisp, rattling off like firecrackers, leaving the runners dizzy and forcing them to stumble back a few steps, dazed.
What were they even arguing about anymore?
“Enough of this nonsense–” the leader raised his voice, trying to drown out the maid’s words.
But she gave him no chance beyond those three characters, immediately seizing the floor.
“Nonsense? What I’ve said is nonsense? We ask for no reward, and now we can’t even speak of how our master died? To say it aloud is to spread rumors?” the maid cried shrilly. She clutched at her own collar, eyes shimmering with tears. “What kind of reasoning is this? Why must you come to arrest us and seal our shop? We don’t want anything anymore, we ask for nothing – what, are we not even allowed to give our master a proper burial in the open? Our master died in battle, honorably, openly. And just because we refused to slink about and bury them like thieves in secret, that makes us guilty? Fine then! If that’s a crime, then arrest us! Go on – arrest us!”
The magistrate runners shrank back, stumbling into the doorframe before halting, staring at her in disbelief.
What was going on? How had it come to this? They hadn’t even said any of that!
They turned their heads and saw the crowd outside – their noisy chatter had stopped, and all were glaring at them angrily. Looking back inside, the hall’s patrons had risen to their feet as well.
Meanwhile, on the other side, Fan Jianglin watched as the magistrate runners stepped forward – then drew out a bow and arrows.
The runners recoiled as if they had seen a ghost, retreating several steps and raising the sabers at their waists.
Though much time had passed, and though now it was only one man rather than seven, the story of five ruffians shot dead on the spot in front of the Tai Ping Residence still circulated in the magistrate – the tale of the shop’s Vajra protector.
“Fan Jianglin, what do you think you’re doing? Resisting arrest, committing murder?” they shouted.
Fan Jianglin looked at them and laughed, then tossed the bow and arrows onto the ground.
“I can’t kill anyone now. I can’t draw a bow anymore, can’t loose an arrow. If I truly wanted to kill, I could only use a crossbow trigger.” He shook his head as he spoke, and suddenly tore open his robe with a violent tug, baring his naked chest.
The people in the hall were caught off guard; the women screamed and hurriedly covered their faces.
“I can’t kill anyone now, and I won’t kill you,” Fan Jianglin said slowly, then laughed, spreading his arms. “My brothers died in battle against the western bandits. I was lucky to survive so I could live to kill those bandits. How could I ever point my arrows at you – the same people who stood between my brothers and death?”
“Go on – arrest me,” he continued. “Do what you must. If you say I’m guilty, then I’m guilty. Arrest me.”
The magistrate runners stood dumbfounded. The people in the hall were dumbstruck as they stared at the bare-chested man before them, at the crisscrossing scars that marred his body – horrifying wounds that only someone clawing out of a mountain of corpses could bear. Every scar was real; there was no lie in any of them.
“Ar–” someone began.
“Arrest my ass!” a voice suddenly exploded from the hall, and a plate came flying through the air. “You’re the ones who deserve arrest!”
That shout hit like water thrown into hot oil – the whole hall erupted in chaos.
Burn burn..🤩