What does that mean?
It means someone set him up – deliberately!
There are no coincidences in this world, only calculations!
And what perfect timing – right when the imperial envoy was delivering the decree.
What a flawless setup, making that messenger shout out before everyone, forcing the truth into the open.
No matter how he tried to hide it, there was no way to stop it now.
Zhou Fengxiang!
Jiang Wenyuan’s gaze shot over sharply.
Standing amid the crowd, Zhou Fengxiang did not look back at him; unlike the others, he showed no surprise at all – only a faint air of knowing.
So it really was him. Jiang Wenyuan clenched his teeth, wishing he could devour him whole on the spot.
“Master Jiang!”
The imperial envoy’s voice rang out beside him again, cold and stern.
“Are you suggesting that I deceive His Majesty?”
Jiang Wenyuan stared toward the outer hall, at the tightly shut doors – then, gritting his teeth, made his decision.
“Open the gates!” he shouted.
The doors of the government hall swung open. A group of military officers stepped out, gazes falling upon the dozens of figures standing outside – some soldiers, some armored troops, and some common laborers.
Hearing the commotion and rushing over, Fang Zhonghe’s legs nearly gave out beneath him; he reached out to brace himself against the wall, his face pale with shock and disbelief.
How could they all have gathered together again?
After the Battle of Linguan, before he left, he had deliberately scattered the survivors who had escaped with him, sending them to different places – so they wouldn’t gather and remember, or worse, speak of what must never be remembered or said. He had believed that, with time, those memories would fade.
Besides, desertion in the midst of battle was a capital crime – who would be foolish enough to risk their own life for the sake of the dead?
What was going on? What in heaven’s name was happening?
“I am Liu Kui, a brave under the command of the Western Garrison. I am willing to testify that the five men of Maoyuan Mountain fought to the death in defense of the city, while Officer Fang Zhonghe abandoned the city and fled, stealing their credit!”
“I am a survivor of the Linguan Fort. I am willing to testify that the five men of Maoyuan Mountain fought to the death in defense of the city, while Officer Fang Zhonghe abandoned the city and fled, stealing their credit!”
As those two voices rang out, more and more cries followed.
“I’ll testify! I’m willing to testify!”
“I can testify – they were the true warriors who defended the city!”
“I’ll bear witness! I’ll bear witness!”
The shouts of dozens rose and fell, merging into one great roar that filled the entire street – until it seemed as if the whole city’s soldiers and civilians were shouting as one.
The faces of the officers standing on the front steps darkened, while outside the crowd, Fang Zhonghe turned pale as death, spun around, and fled in haste.
The voices spread through the air.
Inside the holding cells of the government hall, Xu Sigen slowly turned his head.
“What’s that sound?”
“What’s going on?” the guards outside asked one another, peering out toward the street. Before long, word came back.
“A bunch of people have come to testify for the five men of Maoyuan Mountain!”
“Dozens of them! They’re speaking right in front of the imperial envoy!”
“So that means… the five from Maoyuan Mountain really did earn merit?”
At that, everyone’s gaze turned toward the cell.
In the cell, Xu Sigen did not lose control or cry out in excitement.
He remained seated, head tilted, greedily straining to catch the faint, chaotic sounds coming from outside.
We testify. We testify.
Xu Sigen leaned his head against the wall. Tears slid down his face, marked all over with scars from the whips.
When he learned that they had died in battle, he hadn’t cried.
When their bodies were burned to ashes, he hadn’t cried.
There was no need to cry – for those who die serving their country, what is there to weep for? One should smile instead.
And indeed, he smiled. His lips cracked open, a jagged, painful grin.
He should smile. He must smile.
…
“You think I did this? What possible benefit would I get from something like that?”
Inside the tightly shut government hall, Zhou Fengxiang gave a cold laugh and reached out to pick up the memorial lying on the desk.
“My name is on this memorial, the investigation was conducted under my orders, and the troop movements were approved by me. Jiang Wenyuan, you’re the Deputy Commander, and I’m the Inspector-General. If you gave poor commands, then I failed in supervision. If there’s a crime to punish, mine should come first!”
Jiang Wenyuan gave a cold laugh but said nothing.
At that moment, someone pushed the door open and entered.
“My lord, it’s been confirmed,” the man reported. “That messenger took Liu Kui’s money.”
Jiang Wenyuan’s cold smile did not fade. His gaze stayed fixed on Zhou Fengxiang.
“So what you’re saying is that all those people were bribed? That Liu Kui must be very rich indeed – to afford to buy so many lives,” he said icily.
“It’s not Liu Kui who’s rich – it’s those men from Maoyuan Mountain,” one of the officers said.
“That’s right, I’ve heard the same. These past months, that Xu Sigen has been giving away his entire fortune,” another added.
At that, Jiang Wenyuan’s face darkened with anger.
“How much fortune could he possibly have to give away?” he barked.
“My lord,” said an officer stepping forward, “our investigation found that ever since the Battle of Linguan Fort – almost four months now – he’s been visiting the families of the survivors every day, providing them with food, oil, and grain without cease. Even when they threw his gifts out, he’d send more. Again and again. And always with money. Those people tried to hide it, but from what we’ve roughly estimated, the total comes to around two hundred thousand strings of cash.”
At those words, the entire hall fell silent in shock.
Two hundred thousand strings!
“I spent three full years stationed on the Northwestern Front and only managed to save up a hundred thousand strings of cash…” one officer muttered from the back. “Those few low-ranking soldiers – how could they have two hundred thousand in just three years…”
“That’s impossible!” Jiang Wenyuan shouted.
Impossible – many of the men present were shouting the same thing in their hearts.
With two hundred thousand strings of wealth, who would still choose to serve here?
With two hundred thousand strings, who would give it all away so easily?
With two hundred thousand strings to their name – who the hell would still care about justice or fairness!
“Why do I look as if I knew this would happen? Because I did know – and so did you, Master Jiang. Don’t pretend you don’t know who they were,” Zhou Fengxiang said with a cold laugh.
“The owners of the Tai Ping Residence in the capital – each of them earned at least twenty thousand strings in dividends a year. Seven men, three years – what’s so impossible about two hundred thousand?”
“They had two hundred thousand, perhaps even more, and yet they still risked their lives on the battlefield – wasn’t it all to win a future, to earn merit? Now their achievements have been erased – how could their comrades possibly let it go?”
“With two hundred thousand strings, why wouldn’t they be able to buy people to stand up and testify?”
“Even if testifying means punishment, with that kind of money – never mind punishment, they’d sell their lives for it!”
“I said from the beginning that this matter needed a proper investigation – a thorough one. Jiang Wenyuan, you didn’t take it seriously. Instead, you threatened me, warned me not to dig deeper, using everyone’s careers as leverage against me! If you could threaten me, why couldn’t you threaten those soldiers as well?”
“Think about it – those men have already stirred up such an uproar in the capital, right under His Majesty’s eyes. What’s a mere Northwestern province compared to that?”
“And now you’re suspecting me? So what if you are? I suspect you were planning to send us to our deaths on purpose!”
Zhou Fengxiang spat angrily, hurling the memorial in his hand toward Jiang Wenyuan. The surrounding officers rushed forward to intervene.
The hall dissolved into chaos.
Jiang Wenyuan’s face darkened.
Of course he knew who those Maoyuan Mountain brothers were and where they came from – but he had never imagined they would throw in that kind of money!
Two hundred thousand strings! The imperial court’s total reward for the Northwestern campaign had been only two million – that was for the entire Northwestern force. And those seven men alone accounted for a tenth of it.
So wealthy – what business did they have serving as common soldiers? They must have done it deliberately, just to drag him down!
“Master Jiang, Master Zhou,” one of the officers finally spoke up after some hesitation. “Let’s not question each other anymore. We’re all grasshoppers tied to the same rope – none of us can get away. The imperial envoy is still waiting out there. If we don’t give him an explanation soon, he’ll leave – and based on what he’s already seen today, that alone will be enough for him to report back to His Majesty. And when that happens… well, that really will be the end of us all.”
The hall fell silent.
Yes – right now, the most dangerous problem was the imperial envoy.
Just to stop that furious envoy – who had been ready to storm off moments ago – they had already paid ten thousand strings in “tea money.”
Two hundred thousand…
That number flashed through Jiang Wenyuan’s mind, and he cursed viciously under his breath.
He had thought this was a struggle for power – only to realize it was really a contest of wealth.
Damn it all, money truly could make the devil grind the mill – he’d capsized in the gutter!
“My lord, when all’s said and done, this matter stems from Fang Zhonghe’s falsifying his merits and concealing the truth,” one officer said. “After the battle, the army was badly shaken and needed reassurance. He deceived everyone and got away with it – until today, when you and I finally learned the truth.”
“That’s it?” Jiang Wenyuan asked, his hand resting heavily on the desk, expression dark and brooding.
“What else could it be? Do you mean to say we forced him to fake his achievements, claim the reward, and seek promotion?” Zhou Fengxiang retorted.
Jiang Wenyuan gave him a glance but said nothing.
“My lord, there’s no time to waste,” someone urged.
“We can’t delay any longer,” others echoed.
“So, this means the accusations against us have been proven true,” Jiang Wenyuan said slowly.
“Proven? Hasn’t it already been proven?” one of the officers cried out in frustration.
But as long as the Northwestern command seal wasn’t affixed to the report, it wasn’t considered fully confirmed.
Jiang Wenyuan gripped the edge of the desk, his expression shifting between anger and calculation.
“My lord, those people’s accusations only concern Fang Zhonghe’s actions back then. In truth, it’s nothing more than soldiers feeling wronged because their commanding officer abandoned them and fled. So – just make sure they don’t feel wronged anymore,” someone urged.
The others in the hall nodded in agreement.
Yes, that was the only way. If they kept delaying, who knew what more trouble might erupt? Better to wrap it up quickly – at worst, the Emperor would scold them for negligence, nothing more.
“Bring Fang Zhonghe here,” Jiang Wenyuan ordered. “Invite the imperial envoy to personally conduct the questioning – and hear Fang Zhonghe confess with his own mouth.”
He deliberately emphasized personally and confess.
“And make sure he’s watched closely,” one of the officers added slowly. “Don’t let him escape – or start babbling nonsense at the last moment.”
The attendant standing in the hall bowed low, his eyes glinting.
“Yes, my lord.”
After seeing the crowd gathered in front of the government hall, Fang Zhonghe, who had fled in panic, never made it out of the city. At the gate, the guards stopped him. No matter what he said or what papers he showed, they refused to let him pass – and instead locked him up.
This wasn’t an accident. It was planned.
Otherwise, why would the gate guards stop him when no news from the hall had even reached them yet?
This wasn’t something those few troublemaking soldiers giving testimony could have managed – this had to be the work of someone inside the government hall!
In the small, shabby side room by the city gate, Fang Zhonghe sat on the ground, bound and seething, his teeth clenched in rage.
Who was it? Who?
How had things turned out like this?
Outside came the sound of galloping hooves and voices speaking rapidly, then someone stopped at the doorway.
“Fang Zhonghe, the imperial envoy summons you for questioning,” the man outside announced.
Instead of fear, a surge of excitement flashed through Fang Zhonghe.
If you want to punish me, then don’t think you can escape unscathed either!
The door was pulled open, and two men stepped inside.
The excitement on Fang Zhonghe’s face froze at once as he looked at the two of them – and at the rag they held in their hands.
“What are you doing? I want to see the imperial envoy–”
The door swung shut again, cutting off the view. A few muffled, choking sounds followed – then silence.
Don’t regret it. Don’t you dare regret it.
As Fang Zhonghe exhaled his final breath, those words echoed faintly by his ear, blurring with the dimming of his sight.
“No – we don’t care whether your report was truthful or not, Master Fang. We won’t argue over your merits, or whether you deserved what you got. What we want is for our brothers’ deeds to be reported honestly – to report those who died fighting to defend the city, and to have them posthumously honored.”
“Don’t you dare regret it. Don’t you dare regret it.”
Honestly, thinking about it, doing this was actually very simple… at least far simpler than losing your life…
Fang Zhonghe’s head lolled to one side. He didn’t move again.
The bright red imperial seal was pressed heavily onto the memorial. Zhou Fengxiang let out a long breath, as though setting down a great burden – and the others around him looked much the same.
A clerk carefully carried the memorial forward.
“You’ve worked hard, my lord,” Jiang Wenyuan said, his tone tinged with guilt. “All the witness statements are here. It’s just a pity that wretched Fang Zhonghe took his own life out of fear of punishment.”
The imperial envoy gave a cold snort. But considering the silver now tucked into his sleeve, he chose not to press the matter further. The little eunuch beside him gathered up the memorial and the written testimonies, wrapped them again in the yellow cloth they had been brought in, and the two of them mounted their horses.
Jiang Wenyuan watched them ride off in a trail of dust, then exhaled heavily.
“You and I should both prepare memorials admitting negligence,” he said.
The officers all answered in unison, “Yes, my lord.”
Negligence was punishment enough – at worst, a fine of a few months’ salary and a scolding from the Emperor.
At last, the matter was over.
With a faint expression of disgust, Jiang Wenyuan flicked his sleeve and turned back into the hall.
