Feng Lin did not stand outside for long before going in. The street gate closed behind him, blocking out prying eyes from all around – but the crowd outside only grew larger.
The news of Feng Lin encountering Lady Cheng fainting in front of the palace gate yesterday had already spread from the officials to the common folk – and among the common folk, such stories spread even faster.
“I knew it! Ghosts are always afraid of gods.”
“Back in the day, a bunch of ruffians caused trouble at Tai Ping Residence, and the Vajra Buddha stamped his foot and killed five of them on the spot.”
“This Judge Feng must be here to confess his sins and make amends, right?”
Hearing the laughter and chatter of the crowd around them, several scholars – each wrapped in a cloak and carrying their brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones as they waited to practice calligraphy – began to look displeased.
“Even if a Censor is in the wrong, it’s for the Emperor to judge,” one of them frowned and said. “Since when does an official confess and apologize to the very person his memorial accused? Where’s his integrity?”
“That’s not actually the case,” said someone nearby who overheard them. Unable to resist showing off a bit, he spoke with a touch of pride.
The scholars all turned to look at him.
“I heard,” the man said quickly, “that this Lady Cheng once saved Feng Lin’s life.”
The scholars exchanged surprised glances.
“So, Feng Lin is being righteous enough to denounce his own benefactor,” one said, nodding thoughtfully.
“Not necessarily,” another raised an eyebrow. “It could just be posturing for fame.”
“Whether it’s moral integrity or self-serving display, we’ll soon see,” someone said. “But what I really want to know is – will Lady Cheng come out to write again today?”
A few days ago, when news spread that Feng Lin had impeached her, this lady had still gone on writing as if nothing had happened. Now that the situation had grown even more tangled and uncertain, they wondered whether she could still remain true to herself.
The few of them turned toward the Cheng household’s gate. It opened – not to reveal Lady Cheng, but a young servant boy. He said nothing, only stepped forward and pasted a notice on the wall beside the door.
At once, the crowd surged forward.
The scholars, of course, would not lower themselves to jostle with commoners, so they sent their own servant to check. Before long, the servant returned.
“Lady Cheng has guests today and won’t be holding her calligraphy session,” he reported.
The scholars exchanged glances and chuckled.
“Seems these benefactor-and-accuser have a long talk ahead of them,” one said.
“Actually, that’s not it,” said the same man who’d gone to watch the commotion earlier, now pushing his way back through the crowd, eager to share what he’d heard.
The scholars turned to him again, frowning slightly.
“There are two guests at Lady Cheng’s house today,” the man said excitedly, raising two fingers and waving them for emphasis. “I just asked that servant myself!”
Two guests?
Feng Lin stepped into the main hall and paused in surprise.
Inside, Han Chang and Han Yuanchao were there as well – both looking equally startled.
The air in the room tightened.
“Master Feng, please wait a moment,” the servant said quickly. “My lady is washing up and changing; she’ll be here shortly.”
Feng Lin nodded and walked further in. A young maid entered, set down a tray of tea, then quietly withdrew and closed the door behind her, leaving only the three men inside.
“Master Feng, are you feeling better now?” Han Chang was the first to speak.
Feng Lin looked at him, his expression stiff and unreadable.
“Thanks to your concern, much better,” he replied coolly.
Hearing those words, a trace of embarrassment crossed Han Chang’s face.
Yesterday’s incident, truth be told, was partly his fault. If he hadn’t deliberately steered Feng Lin into saying those things, that final outburst wouldn’t have sent Feng Lin’s blood surging to his head and made him faint.
It had been a petty, mean-spirited act.
Feng Lin wasn’t a fool – once he came to, he surely understood what had happened.
Han Chang himself couldn’t quite explain why he had done it – why he had behaved so childishly. Perhaps it was because of the resentment and shame he’d long harbored toward himself, which he couldn’t release. Then Feng Lin happened to appear – someone who, like him, had not only failed to repay his benefactor but had even humiliated her. The anger and bitterness in Han Chang’s heart had flared uncontrollably; by mocking Feng Lin, he had vented that fury on behalf of the lady, seeking some pitiful comfort for himself.
When he saw Feng Lin’s face twist in rage, he had indeed felt a flash of grim satisfaction – but that feeling vanished the instant Feng Lin collapsed. Cold sweat broke out all over him.
To goad someone – not to death, but even into illness – especially a high-ranking official like Feng Lin, would ruin him utterly, and worse, implicate Lady Cheng. For her, that would have been a disaster from nowhere.
Fortunately – fortunately indeed – Feng Lin was a man hardened by years of service in the field, not one of those pampered court officials. His body was strong; after the physicians administered a few needles, he regained his breath.
Thinking of this, Han Chang lifted the cup of tea before him and straightened his posture.
“Master Feng, I owe you an apology,” he said, bowing deeply.
Han Yuanchao quickly followed suit, bowing as well.
Feng Lin glanced at him.
“I wouldn’t dare accept your apology,” he said. “This matter isn’t your fault – it’s mine alone.”
Han Chang rose to his feet, looking somewhat awkward.
“It was I who acted frivolously,” he said.
“In truth,” Feng Lin said slowly, “if we must speak of fault, the one who acted frivolously was not you – and the one who ought to feel remorse and shame is not you, either.”
“What?”
Both Han Chang and Han Yuanchao looked up at him.
“Then who is it?” Han Chang couldn’t help blurting out.
“Myself,” Feng Lin said.
What did he mean by that?
Seeing the look on Han Chang’s face, Feng Lin realized the man was silently asking that question – just as he himself once had.
But now, Feng Lin understood.
The moment he stepped down from his carriage outside the post station back then, the path that followed had already been set.
If, when that girl questioned him, he hadn’t rebuked the petty official – then none of what came after would have happened.
Opportunities are given by others, but destiny is chosen by oneself.
That was why the lady had said, Don’t thank me – thank yourself. The same applied now: if Han Chang had provoked him into anger, it wasn’t Han Chang’s fault. It was him who has done something that left others room to judge him.
Footsteps sounded outside, breaking the silence between the three men. The door was pulled open, and someone stepped inside.
All three immediately rose to their feet, looking toward the lady who now stood before them. Her expression was calm and composed – if anything, it was the maid beside her, glaring fiercely, who drew more attention.
“Lady Cheng,” the three greeted, bowing respectfully.
Cheng Jiao-niang returned the bow, then took her seat at the head of the room. Two young maids entered from outside to refresh the tea for the guests.
“I wonder,” Cheng Jiao-niang asked, “what brings you to see me today?”
Han Chang and Feng Lin exchanged a glance. It seemed the lady had no intention of meeting with them separately.
“I am here to thank you – and to offer my apologies,” both men said, bowing once more.
Cheng Jiao-niang returned the gesture but said nothing.
Silence fell again inside the room. Han Chang and Feng Lin exchanged glances – each reading the same unspoken message in the other’s eyes: You speak first.
“Lady Cheng.”
While the two men were still conversing silently with their eyes, Han Yuanchao was the first to speak.
“The kindness you spoke of – I dare not accept it as such.”
Cheng Jiao-niang turned her gaze toward him.
“In Tongjiang County, it was you who first showed great kindness to my aunt,” Han Yuanchao said. “So when I later helped drive away those troublemakers for your sake, it was merely a small favor in return – no debt of gratitude owed.”
“No,” Cheng Jiao-niang said with a faint smile, shaking her head. “As for your aunt’s case, I was her doctor – and I took payment for my treatment. So that matter is settled.”
“A life-saving grace cannot be repaid with money,” Han Yuanchao said, shaking his head.
“But of course it can,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied. “So there’s no need for you to worry, Young Master Han. Whatever passed between us – money has already settled it.”
He hadn’t expected her to say that, and Han Yuanchao was momentarily stunned.
Han Chang glanced at his son and sighed.
Their behavior back at Tai Ping Residence had indeed been hurtful – no wonder the young lady was still offended.
“Miss, it was my failure to guide my son properly,” he said, bowing once more.
Cheng Jiao-niang gave him a brief look, then turned her gaze toward Feng Lin.
“And you?” she asked. “Between you and me, there was no debt of gratitude – so there’s nothing to ‘settle.’ Why have you come to see me?”
Feng Lin, noticing how she had left the father and son sitting awkwardly aside, felt a flicker of embarrassment himself.
So she was angry, after all – otherwise she would have received them separately.
“Lady Cheng,” he said, “gratitude and duty aren’t things that can be settled with money, nor are they made real or void just because someone says so.”
Cheng Jiao-niang smiled again.
“Exactly,” she said, nodding. “Which is why – whether one speaks of it or not – makes no difference. Words may be spoken without intent, but those who hear them may still take them to heart.”
“Then tell me,” Feng Lin asked, “were the things you did intentional – or not?”
“My lady’s actions are none of your concern!” Ban Qin could no longer hold herself back and stood up in protest.
Feng Lin’s expression turned sorrowful. He bowed deeply.
“As an official, I must fulfill my duty,” he said slowly. “What the lady has done is no longer merely her private affair – it now touches upon matters of state, of the realm itself. Therefore, I have no choice but to ask.”
Han Chang looked at Feng Lin, his heart a swirl of conflicting emotions.
Censors like Feng Lin were known for speaking boldly, submitting memorials with fierce conviction – striking at others with every word as though wielding blades. But when had those blades ever turned upon themselves like this, each stroke cutting into their own flesh?
To speak was painful – but to remain silent was just as painful.
Cheng Jiao-niang smiled and raised her hand, signaling Ban Qin to sit down.
“So that’s what you wish to know,” she said with a nod. “Of course, I act with intent.”
“You held a roadside memorial – was it your intention to gather a crowd?”
“It was.”
“You presented the Divine Arm Bow – was it your intention to seek merit?”
“It was.”
“You played your purifying tune in the residence – was it your intention not to let others hear it?”
“It was.”
The questions came heavy and strained, but her answers were crisp and unhesitating.
Within just a few exchanges, Han Chang and his son felt the air in the room grow thick and stifling, as though it were hard to breathe.
“So everything you have done – was done with intent and desire?”
“All human actions,” she replied, “are done with intent and desire.”
Her words fell, and silence followed.
Though the questioning had lasted only moments, Feng Lin felt as though he had just endured a full court debate – utterly drained.
“Lady Cheng,” he sighed, “it’s not wrong to have desires – but your methods have gone too far.”
“My conscience is clear,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied.
Feng Lin’s body trembled slightly.
“A fine thing to say – ‘my conscience is clear,’” he suddenly shouted, his voice rising sharply as he straightened in his seat.
The outburst startled both Han Chang and his son.
“You manipulate the will of the people below, and beguile the heart of the ruler above, all for your own gain!” Feng Lin thundered. “You know full well that talk of spirits and miracles runs rampant – not only do you not avoid it, but you fan the flames! You mislead the common folk, deceive the court officials, and sway the governance of the realm itself! Tell me – can you truly say your heart feels no shame?”
“Master Feng…” Han Chang could no longer hold back. No matter what, the person before them was only a young lady – being shouted at so fiercely, and with such terrifying accusations, was simply…
“Please, speak calmly,” he urged.
But when a Censor impeached or admonished, even the Emperor himself could not stop him – let alone a mere county magistrate. Han Chang’s protest fell like a stone into the sea, swallowed without a sound.
Feng Lin simply gazed solemnly at Cheng Jiao-niang, waiting for her reply.
Her expression remained calm and composed as she gave a small nod.
“My conscience is clear,” she said again.
“A true man,” Feng Lin sighed, “should act openly and take the straight path.”
Cheng Jiao-niang smiled faintly.
“But I,” she said, “am only a woman.”
At that, there was nothing more to say. Feng Lin lifted his head and drew in a deep breath.
“Lady Cheng,” he said, “I hope you will voluntarily leave the capital.”
Cheng Jiao-niang smiled and shook her head.
“I’m afraid I must disappoint you, my lord,” she said lightly. “For now, I have no intention of leaving.”
Feng Lin looked at her. The hands resting on his knees – hands that had recorded the fates of dozens, that had never once trembled even before life and death – were now shaking ever so slightly.
“In that case,” he said slowly, “I can only see to it that you are sent out of the capital.”
