Su Yan froze in place, his drowsiness vanishing almost entirely. Staring out the window, he muttered to himself, “What Lord Censor? Your Lord Censor granddaddy is right here! Who’s doing the beheading?”
He abruptly got out of bed and rummaged through his belongings for his outerwear. “Ah Zhui!” he shouted.
Jinghong Zhui stepped into the room, lifting the curtain.
“Help me find my official robes,” Su Yan said while rifling through his luggage. “I forgot where I stuffed them.”
Jinghong Zhui’s lips curved into a faint, helpless smile. With a flick of his sword hilt, he pointed. “There, isn’t it right here?”
“Wow, how are your eyes so sharp?” Su Yan pulled out his cyan seven-rank civil official’s robe. He examined the embroidery of mandarin ducks on the chest and back, giving the garment a shake as he grumbled, “Seriously, whose bright idea was it to put frolicking mandarin ducks on an official robe? And why are the ducks this garish shade of purple? Ugh…”
Wearing an expression of disdain, he slipped into the robe. Jinghong Zhui suppressed a smile, keeping a straight face as he fastened Su Yan’s belt and helped him don his official hat.
Su Yan ordered the rest of the group to wake Chu Yuan and the others, carefully packed his appointment documents, imperial edict, and the Imperial Sword, and handed them to Jinghong Zhui to carry. With everything prepared, they left the inn and rode straight to the commotion.
At the vegetable market, flames lit up the sky as a tall platform had been erected in the central square. Su Yan spotted several figures kneeling on the platform and a group of burly executioners, each with a red scarf tied around their heads and a massive blade in hand. The scene reminded him of public execution sequences he’d seen in TV dramas in his previous life. Should he yell “Hold the blade!” for dramatic effect?
Despite his internal jokes, Su Yan refrained from such rashness. Upon reaching the square, he first dismounted to examine the notices posted on the bulletin board.
The board was plastered with papers, including several sketches of wanted bandits. The most prominent portraits resembled the two bandit leaders from Eagle’s Beak Mountain—Wang Five and Wang Six. Adjacent to them was an official edict for the arrest of bandits, its text dominating a third of the board.
Scanning it quickly, Su Yan muttered, “A bunch of grandstanding rhetoric to frighten the public. But what’s this “collective punishment” nonsense?”
Chu Yuan explained, “It’s a system where five households form a group and ten households a unit. If one person commits a crime, the others are obligated to report it. If they don’t, they’ll face the same punishment.”
“Ah, mobilizing the masses to spy on each other. Classic tactic,” Su Yan remarked, continuing to read the edict. His expression darkened. “But implicating family members? Punishing the entire household for one bandit’s crimes? That’s barbaric!”
On the platform, the executioners drew out the placards tied to the prisoners’ collars and tossed them to the ground. One took a swig of strong liquor and spat it onto his blade, waiting for the signal to drop the execution token.
Chu Yuan and the others cleared a path through the dense crowd for Su Yan to approach the execution site. From his vantage point, Su Yan saw the kneeling prisoners clearly: men and women, young and old. The eldest was a frail elderly couple with deeply wrinkled faces, kneeling stiffly with numb expressions. The youngest was a trembling boy of about thirteen or fourteen. Beside him, a woman who appeared to be his mother turned her tear-streaked face toward him, sobbing silently.
“Who dares trespass in the execution grounds?!”
Su Yan turned to the platform steps, where a makeshift desk had been set up. Behind it sat another official clad in a seven-rank blue robe. This man, around thirty years old, had a sallow complexion and sparse facial hair. It was his attendant who had just shouted the rebuke.
Su Yan spurred his horse forward, cupped his hands, and declared, “Imperial Censor of the Court of Judicial Review, Imperial Commissioner for Shaanxi, Su Yan, styled Qinghe.”
The official was momentarily stunned before he rose and returned the salute. “Censor of the Court of Judicial Review, stationed in Shaanxi to oversee bandit suppression, Lu Angao, styled Rirong.”
Hearing the name, Su Yan nearly laughed aloud. Lu Angao? That sounds like “random hookup” hahaha…. He managed to suppress his mirth, clearing his throat as he dismounted and climbed the steps. “Random ho..Brother Lu, might I trouble you to delay the execution for a moment so I can understand the situation?”
The execution at the execution grounds had already been interrupted, putting Lu Angao in a foul mood. Now, seeing Su Yan’s stance as if he intended to interfere, Lu Angao said in a deep voice, “Are you perhaps Su Twelve, the one who struck the drum at the imperial gates? The auspicious hour must not be delayed. If you wish to understand the situation, wait until after the execution, and I will explain everything to you at leisure.”
As he spoke, he sat back in his official chair and reached for the execution token from the signing tube.
Like h*ll I’ll be able to understand anything after you’ve chopped their heads off. If you kill the wrong person, can you just stick the head back on? Without hesitation, Su Yan swiftly snatched the signing tube away first and smiled. “You see, I have this peculiar habit—if I have doubts, I can’t sit still. I’d appreciate it if Brother Lu could clear things up for me first. As for the auspicious hour, if you were truly someone who cared about taboos, you wouldn’t have scheduled an execution at night. It’s already well past noon, so what’s the harm in delaying it a little longer?”
Lu Angao cursed him as a shameless rogue in his heart but had no choice but to explain, “Among the seven criminals on the platform, three are accomplices of the bandits. They took part in murdering officials, looting grain, and seizing military supplies—committing all manner of heinous crimes. The remaining four are family members of the bandits. They were fully aware of the collective punishment law yet concealed information and failed to report it. Some even aided the bandits by passing on intelligence. Therefore, all have been sentenced to execution in accordance with the law.”
Su Yan said, “The accomplices, fine. But why must the family members be sentenced to death as well? Since ancient times, the law has recognized the principle of family members protecting one another. Except for cases of treason, rebellion, or insurrection, direct relatives are not required to inform on each other. Otherwise, what would be left of family bonds and social ethics?”
He pointed at the elderly man and woman on the execution platform. “Look at those two elders—they’re already half in the grave. Must they be forced to stand up and denounce their own children and grandchildren? Is a parent’s love for their child not a fundamental human instinct? Even if punishment is warranted, it shouldn’t be the same as for the criminals themselves. I urge you to reconsider, Brother Lu.”
Lu Angao remained unmoved. “The collective punishment law was not decided by me alone; the prefect himself approved it. You’ve only just arrived in Shaanxi and may not understand the severity of the situation. Banditry is rampant here. They rob homes and terrorize the people with impunity. The local officials were powerless to stop them and had to report to the court. His Majesty appointed me to station here specifically to handle this crisis. If I do nothing, how could I justify my duty and the Emperor’s trust?”
Su Yan sighed. “That reasoning is sound, but in practice, one must also consider the method. Brutal crackdowns can only address the symptoms, not the root cause. In fact, they may even provoke rebellion.”
Lu Angao sneered, “I am a Guiwei year graduate, a top scorer in the imperial exam, and have served as a censor for eleven years. Do I need a newly appointed youngster to teach me how to govern and handle matters? The ancients said, ‘In troubled times, severe laws are necessary.’ Even the Taizu Emperor stated, ‘To govern chaos, one must act decisively.’ Shaanxi is overrun with bandits. Without strict laws and severe punishment, how can we deter the defiant rebels and restore order?”
Su Yan immediately retorted, “That was then, this is now! Severe laws were needed to restore order during chaotic times. But now, after a century of stable rule, we should ease taxes, focus on recovery, and stabilize the people’s hearts. The root of Shaanxi’s unrest lies in the horse administration. If the horse administration is cleaned up, the chaos will naturally subside. His Majesty sent me to Shaanxi to oversee this very matter. I urge you, Lord Lu, to heed my advice. As the sages said, ‘Excessive pressure always leads to a rebound,’ and ‘If the silence doesn’t erupt, it will be extinguished within.'”
“Nonsense! Which sage said that? I’ve never heard of it!” Lu Angao fumed, slamming the desk. “You manage your horse policies; I’ll catch my bandits. We don’t interfere with each other’s jurisdiction. We’re both seventh-rank censors—who can command the other?”
Infuriated by his obstinacy, Su Yan threw the signature box down and shouted, “Cleaning up the horse administration is meant to return land to the people! If you kill or drive them all to revolt, what’s the point of my efforts?”
“I’m killing bandits with a clear conscience! Whether you succeed or not has nothing to do with me!”
“You only know that the people are easy to oppress, but not that water can overturn a boat. You’ll bring disaster sooner or later!”
“Disaster? Do you think these peasants dare rebel? Let me tell you, Su Twelve, every bandit I catch, I kill. Catch ten, kill five pairs. You want to win hearts? Go ahead! Just don’t drag me down. Otherwise, I’ll report you to the emperor myself. You think you’re the only one who dares to beat the drums of appeal?”
The two censors clashed in a heated war of words. Realizing that reasoning with Lu Angao was futile and that their equal ranks made it hard to suppress him, Su Yan thought of the imperial sword bestowed by the emperor. He intended to use it to assert authority and save the lives of those on the execution platform.
Before he could call for Jinghong Zhui to fetch the sword, the sound of drums echoed from the city gate.
A team of yamen guards marched in with a bound prisoner, accompanied by a boisterous band. The procession, complete with gongs, drums, and trumpets, was as jubilant as a festival.
—No wonder the noise in Yanan City had been incessant, disturbing the people day and night. It turned out that this censor celebrated every bandit capture with such fanfare to showcase his achievements.
Su Yan couldn’t help but laugh in exasperation.
The prisoner was brought forward, and the guards reported loudly, “Reporting to the censor: at the border between Yanan and Qingyang, we’ve captured the bandit Qi Meng!”
Lu Angao stared intently at the prisoner’s face, then suddenly laughed, slamming the table. “Qi Meng! It’s really Qi Meng!” Turning to Su Yan with a smug expression, he said, “Censor Su, look! This is the third-ranking leader of the Horse Bandits, a trusted lieutenant of Wang Five and Wang Six. With him caught, can the other two escape?”
“With the Horse Bandits on the brink of annihilation, the remaining bandit gangs are even less of a threat!” Lu Angao mocked. “What ‘excessive pressure leads to a rebound’? Let’s see him rebound! Show me.”
As soon as he finished speaking, a thunderous roar erupted: “–Corrupt official! Your life is mine!” The prisoner broke free from his bindings and charged toward the two officials on the platform.
The sudden turn of events left Lu Angao dumbfounded.
Jinghong Zhui, frustrated by the earlier verbal sparring, had been itching to act but restrained by Su Yan. Now, seeing the commotion, he deliberately refrained from intervening. Instead, he grabbed Su Yan and retreated swiftly, avoiding the chaos.
The Embroidered Uniform Guard guards quickly surrounded Su Yan, shielding him from harm.
Meanwhile, the yamen officers tried to subdue the prisoner, but he threw them off with brute strength, sending several flying. With his beard bristling like spikes, Qi Meng aimed a massive punch at Lu Angao’s face.
Terrified, Lu Angao slid off his chair, scrambling away. A loud crack sounded as the desk splintered under the force of Qi Meng’s blow. Lu Angao rolled down the steps, grabbing scattered signature slips and shouting, “Seize him! Quickly!”
The crowd of onlookers, initially there for the execution, panicked. Someone screamed, “The Horse Bandits are attacking the city! They’re fighting the soldiers!” Chaos erupted as people fled, leaving behind discarded shoes and hats.
Qi Meng, as strong as an ox, continued to overpower guards and soldiers alike.
More officers piled on top of him like a human pyramid, finally pinning him down. They quickly bound him with iron chains, immobilizing him completely.
Meanwhile, on the execution platform, the executioner, seeing the chaos and the thrown signature slips, proceeded with the beheadings without hesitation.
Blood spurted three feet into the air, splattering the executioner. Seven disheveled heads rolled off the platform and onto the ground.
Shielded by Jinghong Zhui, Su Yan turned to see the blood-soaked execution platform. His face darkened as he cursed, “D*mn it!”
If not for the sudden commotion, he might have managed to save the prisoners under the authority of the imperial sword. But now, it was too late.
Qi Meng, bound and gagged, continued to writhe. Lu Angao, still pale and shaken, was helped to his feet by officers. Trembling, he ordered, “Take him to the dungeon and keep him under strict watch… I will trace every connection and wipe out the Horse Bandits!”
As his fear subsided, anger surged. Lu Angao glared at Su Yan and accused, “If not for your interference, tonight’s disaster would never have happened! Tomorrow at dawn, we’ll settle this at the yamen with the prefect present!”
Su Yan sneered, “It was your own crow’s mouth that provoked the prisoner, not me. You want to talk? Let’s talk. Do you think I’m afraid of a verbal duel?”
Fuming, Lu Angao stormed off, his robe dusty and his official hat askew.
Looking at the aftermath, Su Yan shook his head and sighed, “What a mess.”
Chu Yuan advised, “Lord Su, this place reeks of blood. Shall we return to the inn and discuss this further tomorrow at the yamen?”
—
When the bandit captives were executed and their heads mounted, the order issued by Censor Lu declared: “Bandit heads shall be displayed for three days as a warning to others.”
Thus, by nightfall, seven additional heads adorned the high poles outside the city gates.
At the hour of the ox, the night was ink-black. The guards at the city gate, weary and drowsy, slumped against the walls in a stupor.
A group of masked men in black emerged from the shadows, stealthily approaching the poles. Among them, a particularly agile and diminutive figure climbed the pole like a nimble monkey, swiftly retrieving the freshly mounted heads one by one.
The heads were carefully wrapped in cloth, placed in a lime-lined box, and secured tightly to a horse’s saddle.
“Ride swiftly and deliver them to Eagle’s Beak Mountain.”
“If Fifth Brother and Sixth Brother find out what happened to their parents, wives, and nephews… D*mn these officials! Curse that despicable censor!”
“Brother Qi Meng has been imprisoned. Who knows when they’ll take his life? We must find a way to save him.”
“We can’t act recklessly! Exercise patience. Wait for Fifth Brother and Sixth Brother’s decision, and follow their orders.”
—
Although he had not been stained by the bloodshed, Su Yan could not help but feel nauseous after returning to the inn, prompting him to bathe once more.
Outside his room, Jinghong Zhui stood silently, listening to the sounds of water and the faint rustle of cloth against skin. As he mentally recited his inner martial techniques ten times forward and backward, he finally heard Su Yan lazily call out, “I’m done. You may come in.”
Taking a deep breath, Jinghong Zhui entered the room.
Su Yan, dressed in a simple inner robe and silk trousers, sat on the edge of the bed with his damp, ebony hair hanging loose. Awkwardly, he twisted a towel through his hair, trying to dry it.
Jinghong Zhui couldn’t bear to watch his clumsy attempts. He took the towel, carefully drying Su Yan’s hair, then used his internal energy to warm and dry it further.
Su Yan hugged his bent right leg, a trace of melancholy on his face as he let out a silent sigh.
Knowing Su Yan was upset, Jinghong Zhui consoled him, “You did your best tonight, my lord. Life and death are determined by fate. If anyone deserves blame, it’s that ruthless Lu Censor, not you my Lord.”
Su Yan replied softly, “If the prefect had been present, I might have had some leverage to restrain him as a fellow censor. But since the other party was also a censor, armed with an imperial decree specifically authorizing him to deal with bandits, all I could do was try to persuade him.”
“That stubborn Lu refuses to listen to reason. Your words were wasted. You should have drawn the imperial sword and struck him down on the spot. Isn’t it said that one may ‘act first and report later’?”
Su Yan chuckled. “You’re a man of the martial world; you don’t understand the court’s intricacies. It’s a matter of differing policies, not outright corruption. If I killed him without due cause, the other ministers would impeach me. The Emperor might protect me because he gave me the sword, but his trust in me would be shaken. After all, slaying an official without justification would betray his confidence.”
Jinghong Zhui wanted to argue, “What does it matter if his trust wavers? If he gave you the sword but won’t let you use it, what’s the point?” But seeing Su Yan’s entanglement in courtly constraints, he held his tongue.
Reading his silent frustration, Su Yan smirked. “Do you know what a nuclear weapon is? It’s something you wield to make others aware you have it. Whether or not you use it—and when—is uncertain, and that uncertainty is what keeps others in line. The moment you launch it,” he spread his hands, “your trump card is exposed, and you risk incurring collective retaliation.”
“A trump card… Right, wasn’t there also an imperial edict? Let me see it.”
Since obtaining the edict from Su Xiaobei at the bean curd stall in the capital, Su Yan had avoided opening it. He feared that reading the critical remarks within—even if they were mere formalities penned by eunuchs—would sour his mood. Though he could brush off public condemnation, the Emperor’s reproach was a different matter. It would reduce him to a childlike state, clinging and whining in pitiful protest, a memory that both embarrassed and amused him.
Jinghong Zhui retrieved the edict and handed it to him.
Summoning his resolve, Su Yan leaned against the bedpost and unfurled the scroll. He froze after reading only two lines.
Concerned by his reaction, Jinghong Zhui called softly, “My lord?”
As if struck by revelation, Su Yan suddenly laughed aloud, then turned abruptly, curling up against the wall to hide the moisture in his eyes.
“If I cannot repay His Majesty, then I shall repay the world!”
—The Emperor had truly fulfilled his promise to the utmost.
This imperial edict granted Su Yan powers far exceeding what any ordinary official could hope for. The Emperor not only knew and trusted him but had also foreseen his hesitation to wield the imperial sword. Thus, he had issued this supplementary edict to bolster Su Yan’s authority and confidence.
Clutching the edict, Su Yan’s mind traveled back to that day in the study, where only he and the Emperor had shared a silent, profound moment. It brought him back to that scorching yet restrained, covert yet soul-stirring embrace.
As soft laughter faded, tears streamed silently down his cheeks.
Hearing Su Yan’s uneven breathing and sensing his emotional turmoil, Jinghong Zhui grew anxious. Unsure if it was joy or sorrow, he asked, “My lord, what does the edict say?”
“It says… ‘affection.'” Su Yan’s chest tightened as he sniffled. “Ah Zhui, my chest feels so heavy. Help me knead it. Knead it for me.”
