Love in Red Dust - Chapter 83
Chapter 83
Rujian’s death, in the end, was not in vain. The case had been growing cold, with officials at court submitting memorials urging for the Jilantai case to be closed; had another upheaval not occurred, Hongce would have lacked the strength to delay it further. This incident provided him with an opportunity, and it created an opening for the Emperor as well. A key witness who had testified against Prince Zhuang had died a miserable death in prison, and since a member of the imperial family was now implicated in a murder case, the court finally had the justification it needed to mete out strict punishment. The Emperor was thunderously enraged, suspending all of Hongzan’s duties at the Grand Council and the Imperial Study, ordering him under house arrest, and commanding the Ministry of Justice, in conjunction with the Censorate and the Supreme Court, to conduct a thorough investigation. Not a single expenditure, receipt, or social obligation from the Prince Zhuang estate over the past years was to be overlooked; every record was to be audited and presented to the Qianqing Palace for the Emperor’s personal inspection.
Among the main line of the imperial clan, who could withstand such scrutiny? The vast Prince’s estate had its foundations laid bare; it was effectively the same as a raid. Regardless of whether Hongzan was truly linked to the Wen Lu father-and-son case, he could no longer expect to emerge unscathed. One must believe that those who enjoy kicking someone when they are down are everywhere; seeing that his fall was imminent, anonymous impeachment memorials poured in from all sides. The Emperor, sitting within the Hall of Mental Cultivation, could perceive the strategic advantage immediately. Any single claim in those memorials, if proven true, would be enough to ensure Hongzan would never rise again.
Upon receiving the news, the Empress felt deeply saddened. Clutching her handkerchief to dab at her tears, she said, "Other things aside, the poor girl Dingyi is truly to be pitied. In truth, we all knew she was Wen Lu’s daughter; it was just that you never spoke of it, and no one below dared to say a word. Now, she had only one brother, and Hongzan has hounded him to death. How is she to go on in her heart?"
The Emperor turned the jade ring on his thumb, speaking in a measured, tepid tone. "A mismatch of status makes for a poor union; they were never a proper match to begin with, so why force them together? If the Old Master knew, he would inevitably be puffing his cheeks and glaring. I pity the Twelfth, and I understand him. He says Wen Dingyi has nothing to do with Wen Lu, then so be it. But look at that girl, collecting and burying Wen Rujian's remains—would one who wasn't family go to such lengths? It is only because I am covering for them here; once out in the world, who doesn't understand the truth?"
The Empress gritted her teeth. "I blame Hongzan for being so vicious, uprooting the very last seedling. He is well-versed in these dark paths; he had the man locked in the Ministry of Justice and killed him just because he could. He certainly has some capability."
The Emperor nodded, pacing back and forth around the half-man-tall gilded incense burner. "That is why cleverness is the undoing of the clever. If he hadn't been unable to keep his composure, I truly wouldn't have been able to catch him by his pigtail."
"Then what of Dingyi?" the Empress asked, following behind him. "How will you handle her marriage to the Twelfth Master?"
The Emperor looked back at her. "Is that old habit of yours acting up again? A woman’s misplaced compassion... misleads the sovereign."
The Empress’s mouth twitched, and she lowered her head. "I simply cannot bear to watch it. Later, I will have a word with my father. Once this matter has passed, if Dingyi is willing, she can come to the mansion for a few days. We can adopt her as a goddaughter or something of the sort, and then settle the marriage. In any case, your handling of this whole affair has been like a cat covering its waste—a mess—so I don't see why one more instance would matter."
The Emperor clicked his tongue, wanting to retort but ultimately giving up. Turning his head to look at the colorful paintings on the eaves, he pointed a finger. "Why is there a bald patch here? Send someone to fix it immediately... If the couple is happy, then do as you say!"
The Empress sighed. In truth, a woman understands a woman best; whether Dingyi and the Twelfth would truly find an ending together was hard to say. She was not a girl raised in the deep inner chambers; she lacked that habitual reliance. If you cast her out, she would find her own way to survive. She could live without a man. The death of her parents and brothers was a thorn in her heart, driven too deep to be pulled out. As for herself, as an outsider, she would create the most favorable conditions she could for her, but whether Dingyi would accept them—that remained to be seen.
There was residual snow on the distant rooftops. She leaned by the window to look out, wondering who had flown a 'beauty' kite; it flew fiercely in the sky above the Forbidden City, rising higher and higher until it became a blurry black dot, indistinguishable from the rest.
The inner palace was a world of serene, tranquil years, but the Ministry of Justice prison remained eternally gloomy and terrifying.
Two jailers carried a bucket, delivering meals to each cell. When they reached the cell of the Duke, they waited, but he did not reach out to take his bowl. One jailer grew impatient and poked his head in. "What is it with you? Afraid there’s poison in our food? You haven't touched a thing all day; if this continues, you’ll be starved to a husk sooner or later. Listen to me: if it's luck, it’s not disaster; if it's disaster, you can't hide from it. Stay calm. If you have to die, at least be a well-fed ghost, no?"
The events of the previous night had shaken the entire prison; suddenly discovering how close death was made everyone fearful. Jilantai gripped the edge of his bowl with his thumb, handing it out with trembling hands. He had no energy to argue about their disrespect and merely inquired, "That Wen Rujian—he is dead?"
The jailer ladled a scoop of mushy noodles into his bowl and replied casually, "That's right, he's dead. Taken back to set up a mourning hall. Ah, people—what are they chasing while they're alive? In the end, it’s just a single breath. Before he died, he wrote the character 'Zhuang'—that's pointing the finger at Prince Zhuang, isn't it? Good heavens, the Twelfth Master impeached Prince Zhuang during the court session. Prince Zhuang's destiny is finished; his titles have been revoked, and he’s been confined to his home."
Jilantai looked as if his eyes had been battered by rain; he couldn't even see his own pupils behind his fluttering eyelids. "You mean Prince Zhuang has been confined?"
"That's right." The two jailers lifted their shoulder pole. "Everyone who relied on Prince Zhuang's estate is going to fall. But even if he brought himself down, it was worth it to take out the Wen boy. Letting someone who holds your own handle stay alive—isn't that just waiting for death? Better to strike first."
The jailers moved on to the next cell. Jilantai, feeling his strength desert him, collapsed onto the ground. Prince Zhuang had fallen—but fall or not, he still had remnants of his power and would still need to eliminate those who knew the truth. Wen Rujian was dead; who was next? He dared not think, burying his head in his hands. Hongzan had promised to help him escape punishment, but he couldn't even clean his own house—could he really spare a thought for him? It was only by the grace of heaven that he hadn't already ordered him killed.
He lay in the straw, the musty odor of rotting wheat chaff assaulting his brain, but he had no heart to complain. He stared blankly at the ceiling, his mind utterly hollow.
He didn't know how much time had passed, but in his haze, he heard the sound of iron chains moving at the door. He scrambled up at once. There were two visitors, both dressed as yamen runners, their hats pulled low so their faces were obscured.
It was deep in the night; this was no time for an interrogation. He stepped back. "Which department are you from?"
The two men entered, deftly restraining him. Fearing he would shout, they covered his mouth.
"Which department?" one of them laughed cheekily. "The Department of Hell. Our master invites you to have a cup of tea."
He struggled, muffling cries. The other man, unhurried, pulled out Jilantai’s own trouser belt and tied a loop on the cell door. "Last night someone came by, allowing you a lucky escape. You got off easy. We have received our orders, and the work must be finished. People take money to solve others' problems—you have to be understanding, Duke."
Jilantai would not accept his fate. With all his might, he struggled free and scrambled to pull up his trousers, intending to cry for help, but a blade tip was pressed against his neck. "Do you think this is a theater? You still intend to let out a cry? I'll give you a white blade in and a red blade out—if you don't believe me, give it a try."
Jilantai wept, cursing and swearing. "I followed him for thirty years! If there was no merit, there was at least the toil of hardship! Now he turns his face and denies me—Yuwen Hongzan, I curse his ancestors to the eighth generation!"
The two men looked at each other and smiled. "Don't falsely accuse people. Prince Zhuang isn't the one who sent us."
"Curse that mother-f***er! If it isn't him, then who! If you have the guts to kill, don't fear that I'll be watching from the road to hell..."
His mouth was foul, and the two men threw the rope loop over his neck. "When you go down and meet Inspector Wen, please pass on a word for us—we wish him well." As he finished speaking, he swept Jilantai’s legs. He lost his footing, his weight falling into the noose; his eyes immediately rolled back into his head, strangling him until he could no longer draw a breath.
In the cell behind a wooden partition stood several princes and high officials, listening from start to finish, their brows knitted in deep concern. The guards sent out returned to report. Hongce’s purpose had been achieved; he waved his hand to have Jilantai’s body lowered. Without a word, he led the group into the tea room.
"My hearing is poor, and I do not know what Jilantai said. Did you all hear it clearly?" He cupped his hands. "I ask you to return today; there will be a decision in court tomorrow." Everyone agreed and retreated one by one. The Thirteenth Master walked slowly, and Hongce reached out to pull him back, leaning against the door frame. "I have been terribly exhausted lately. After Jilantai’s confession tomorrow, I leave Hongzan to you. Consider the Wen Lu case a personal favor from your brother; do your best to handle it for me. I received intelligence yesterday that the situation in Khalkha is unstable. I estimate that it won't be long before I have to go there to quell the rebellion... Once I leave, the return date is uncertain..." He shook his head, a look of infinite desolation in his eyes.
Hongsun pressed his wrist. "Twelfth Brother is too tired. If the court sends troops, you would be better off claiming illness and resigning."
He sighed and shook his head again, saying nothing more, walking off into the moonlight, looking lonely.
He did not return to the Chun Prince’s mansion but went straight to Wine and Vinegar Alley. Entering the door, he saw white cloth draped under the eaves of the main house. The courtyard was filled with paper carts and horses, the sound of monks chanting and striking the percussion instruments rustling in the air.
Sha Tong came up to pay his respects. He glanced toward the room. "Is everything ready?"
Sha Tong replied, "We have had the funeral notice drafted, and the fortune-teller has calculated the hour for the encoffinment; it is tomorrow at the hour of the Rooster (5 PM – 7 PM)."
He grunted. "Where is the Princess?"
Sha Tong looked pained. "The Princess won't let us call her Princess anymore... Ever since the brother-in-law was laid out, she has been keeping vigil by the bamboo bed, not leaving for a single moment. You were out this afternoon, and the Su girl came—she cried so bitterly..." He sighed, rubbing his knees. "This servant has never seen anything so tragic. If the Su family hadn't come and forcibly pulled her away, she might have passed out right there with her. To think seriously, now that the brother-in-law has let go, he has left the Princess and his fiancée behind. They are the most pitiful ones."
Indeed. One was his sister, the other his fiancée who had waited for over a decade. They had thought they had made it through the hardest part and that a good life was just ahead, only for it all to end in empty joy.
His nose stung, and he turned his face away. He was worried about Dingyi, yet he felt a fear of seeing her. He hesitated for a long time before stepping onto the stairs.
She was dressed in mourning clothes, kneeling there, her slender profile appearing desolate. After he lit incense to pay his respects, he stepped forward and called out to her, his voice soft. "I have ordered others to stand watch for you; if you go on like this, I fear you will collapse. Better to return to your room and sleep for a while."
She didn't even turn her head. He knew she held resentment toward him; he also felt self-reproach and helplessness, but it was too late for any words. His heart felt torn, the corners of his mouth twitching. After a long pause, he said, "Today, the imperial decree was issued: Prince Zhuang’s actual power has been confiscated, and he is to remain in his mansion pending trial. Jilantai has also confessed; the case should be concluded by tomorrow. The remaining matters will not pass through my hands but will be handled by Prince Rui and the Supreme Court. I have entrusted Hongsun to ensure justice is served for the Wen family..."
"What is the use of that?" Tears welled in her eyes, a transparent shell of water through which her gaze remained hard, piercing the heart. "Can justice bring back the lives of my parents and brother? To say nothing of the distant past, look at the present. After a long circle, they ended up dead at the hands of your Yuwen clan. You said you would keep him safe—did you? You told me to rest easy, yet my Third Brother is dead. You failed to keep your promise. I have knelt here all day and thought of many things. If we had never returned to the capital, he would certainly be living, hale and hearty. It was my greed, thinking only of myself, that dragged him into this fire pit. I can never forgive myself for as long as I live. And you—why did I ever have to meet you?" She shook her head slowly. "I regret it. I regret it so much I don't know what to do. I should never have thought of being with you. I should have left the Central Plains with Rujian, done as he said, found someone to marry, and lived a new life from the start. But I..." Unable to continue, she slapped herself hard across the face.
Horrified by the sight, he stepped forward and seized her hands. "Don't do that..."
She pushed him away, looking at him with slumping shoulders. "I thought of you every day back then. I hoped you would find me; I even dared to dream of being your consort. Looking back now, what have I actually done? Because of my selfishness, I killed my Third Brother. This is a mistake I can never mend in this lifetime. I have failed my Third Brother, and I have failed Hailan. She came today—did you see the look on her face? Do you know the pain of having every hope turn into a bubble?" She gave a mocking laugh. "You are a Prince, how could you understand? To you, the common people are nothing but ants. What does a death matter?"
Hearing her say this left him in utter agony. For so long, he had been trying his best. If he hadn't met her, he never would have noticed the Wen Lu case, nor would he have racked his brains to seek redress for the Wen family. But they had missed it by one step—Rujian was dead, and he, too, felt the ache and loss. But why did she have to resent him like this?
He could not be angry with her; perhaps she needed to hate someone just to offset the pain in her heart. He looked at Rujian’s face and nodded. "It is my fault. I am incompetent. I have failed Third Brother. The prison was already under high alert, and there were patrols at night. How someone could enter and commit murder is something I cannot fathom. Fortunately, we have already caught Hongzan; as for the truth of the matter, it will naturally be determined in the end."
She shot him a glare, grinding her teeth. "I don't care about the truth. I want revenge for my entire family! I want to slay the enemy with my own hands!"
He looked at her in astonishment. "What do you mean?"
She stood tall and cold, her posture as straight as a blade. "I spent six years under my master holding a sword. By any calculation, it is time for me to strike. Prince Zhuang has so many lives on his hands—should he not be taken to the Meridian Gate and beheaded?"
Did she intend to return to her old life? How could that be! He didn't know how to dissuade her; her heart was consumed by rage, and she wouldn't listen to a word he said! He could only temper his patience and explain, "The Great Qing handles the Imperial Clan by bestowing them with the 'gift' of self-execution to preserve the royal dignity. It is a matter of face; he will never be taken to the public square to be beheaded. I know you hate him in your heart. If you want to vent, you can curse me or strike me—do not destroy yourself."
Dingyi had reached a dead end in her mind. She knew she was being unreasonable, but where was she to vent her overflowing resentment? He was always so calm—why could he remain so calm? Her eyes stared blankly at him. "Do you want to guess what I am thinking right now? I am thinking that if I were to die, would you immediately slay Prince Zhuang?"
His heart shuddered, and he was so dizzy with anger he could barely stand. "Must you be so impulsive? If you want revenge, I will find a way to fulfill it for you—why say such things! Rujian’s death is not a pain that only you feel. I always hoped you and your brother would be well. Once the case was settled, we would redeem the Wen family estate, Rujian would restore the family business, and you would have a maternal home to visit... But it is all over. Rujian is gone; it is as if a house I had built has collapsed. My own heart is full of gaping holes. I know he is lying here in the house, while I am outside, forcing myself to summon the spirit to maneuver among the officials, to maneuver with the Emperor. To speak from the bottom of my heart—I no longer wish to ask about any of this. I want to wash my hands of it, but can I?"
Their voices had risen. Arguing in the mourning hall was inappropriate, so Guan Zhaojing and Sha Tong hurried forward to persuade them. "It has already come to this; both of you, please restrain your grief! Do not make a scene before the late brother-in-law; it will not let him depart in peace. Princess, think of the Su girl—you are hurting, but she is hurting as well. You must offer her some comfort. If you bury yourself in this, what is the Su girl to do?"
Hearing this, she quieted down, her voice cold. "Take your master away. Do not let him come here again. The money my Third Brother left behind is enough for me to buy property and live for a lifetime..." As she spoke, her tears sealed her voice. An endless, bitter sourness welled up, and she turned her body away, collapsing over the side of the bamboo bed, unable to stop herself from sobbing uncontrollably.
Was she planning to draw a clear line between them? She was disappointed in him to the extreme; she was unwilling to forgive him anymore.
"Dingyi, give me one more chance..." He stumbled, half-kneeling on the ground to shake her. "Whatever wish you have, I will fulfill it for you. I beg you, do not hate me."
She had hardened her heart, but she was still alive, and she still felt the pain. He called out to her with a shrill, heart-wrenching voice. She gripped the burial shroud tightly, wanting to drive him away. The moment she opened her mouth, her heart spasmed as if she had been hollowed out, and she slumped down at the foot of the bed.