Chapter 115: The Portrait Interrogates the Prisoner

Zheng Ba, who usually kept a low profile and spoke little, nodded rarelly and said, “My understanding is much the same as everyone else’s. If I were to add one more layer, it would be this: when faced with rumors and gossip, we should not judge our brothers by their personalities. After all, as Chang Jiu said, every finger has its strengths and weaknesses; everyone has flaws. We must tolerate one another and unite as one, only then can we withstand the darkness beneath and grow stronger.”

Xu Si, who had just returned with the others, nodded vigorously upon hearing this. The rest also expressed their agreement repeatedly. Di Ying praised the group and rewarded each with a fine jar of wine. Those who spoke were given an additional leg of lamb. Zheng Ba’s reward was even greater—a whole sheep.

As they happily went out to collect their wine and meat, Di Ying turned to Peng Liang beside him and asked, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Peng Liang replied, “...I’ve known you the longest. If I spoke up, you’d think I was just making excuses. Not only would you not reward me, but you’d also make my brothers who hadn’t had a chance to speak fight me.”

Di Ying laughed heartily. “Little Peng, you’ve learned a trick or two. But since you didn’t speak, they won’t fight you. That said, I must punish you. Go fetch the deaf-mute prisoner still held in the manor’s jail. I want to interrogate him one by one.”

Peng Liang pouted but left. Outside, a faint crease formed between his brows. Fingers intertwined in pairs symbolize gradual harmony. The lord wanted him and the guards to slowly adjust to one another and eventually work together. Sure enough, by evening, the ten guards dragged Peng Liang along, all heading out together to share the lamb.

By a blazing fire, a large pot hung over the flames, cooking all the meat together. Everyone’s wine was poured into a single bowl, and they drank it down—thus, brothers united with one heart.

In truth, the earlier rumors stemmed merely from Peng Liang’s striking appearance. Judgments were made hastily, deeming their group good or bad based solely on looks. The guards, somewhat influenced and with Peng Liang’s reticence, had minor friction, though it was soon forgotten. Di Ying only recalled it briefly and made a simple gesture.

That very gesture led Di Ying to begin interrogating the first prisoner: Liu Xing, a deaf-mute man around thirty-five, as thin as skin stretched over bones. He had been caught red-handed stealing a purse in the street.

Once Liu Xing sat down, Di Ying extended his index and middle fingers, pointing first at him, then at himself—meaning, “Look at me.”

Liu Xing understood and looked up. Di Ying then pointed at a large silver ingot on the desk, stretched his left palm flat at chest level, facing down, and crossed his right index and middle fingers over the back of his left hand, moving upward, mimicking a walking motion. He then drew a large question mark in the air—“Where did the stolen silver go?”

According to the case records, no valuables were found on Liu Xing when arrested, indicating he wasn’t acting alone; his accomplices must have been nearby to receive the goods. This mystery surrounding the stolen property was the main reason Di Ying grew suspicious about these deaf-mute prisoner cases. Those prisoners, whether executed, exiled, or imprisoned, never revealed where the goods had gone. Wasn’t that strange?

Upon seeing Di Ying’s gestures, Liu Xing bit his lip, avoided eye contact, and lowered his head. Di Ying stopped gesturing and picked up a brush to draw. He sketched a courtyard with a facade and layout identical to the “Disability Shelter”; then drew a group of people with open mouths and ears covered—a simple outline representing the deaf and mute; next, a cage; then a mountain with several paths.

He had Zhao San and Xu Si hold the drawing upright before Liu Xing. Di Ying pointed at the silver again, then at various parts of the drawing, and drew a question mark in the air. Liu Xing’s eyes followed Di Ying’s fingers back and forth but eventually dropped his gaze and remained motionless.

Di Ying smiled faintly and patted Liu Xing’s shoulder. He pointed to himself, then the cage in the drawing, then Liu Xing, then to his mouth, and made a walking gesture—meaning simply, “If you speak, I will release you.”

Liu Xing’s eyes flickered, clearly understanding. Yet, his gaze lingered on the group of deaf-mutes in the picture, giving them a deep look before lowering his head again.

Di Ying added two adults and a child holding hands with simple, happy smiles. Behind them, he drew a modest house with a fenced yard, then a question mark beside it. He patted Liu Xing once more and pointed to his heart, the three people, and the question mark—“Do you have family?”

Liu Xing looked long and hard at the three holding hands but finally shook his head.

Di Ying stood silently, turning over thoughts in his mind. He gestured to Qian Wu and others with the three interpreters by Ren Lin to pass outside the window. Di Ying noted Liu Xing’s expression: disgust flashed in his eyes upon seeing Ren Lin pass; no reaction upon seeing Zhu Xiang; but when Luan Chao passed, Liu Xing clenched his teeth.

Seeing this, Di Ying ordered Liu Xing returned to the prison and sat back at his desk, sipping tea slowly while pondering.

Without family, why did Liu Xing steal? Was it for the deaf-mute community like himself? His expression upon seeing the “Disability Shelter” in the drawing was complex—envy, memory, pain, longing.

Di Ying suspected Liu Xing might have once lived there. Two of Liu Xing’s accomplices had been caught after confessing to the interpreters. Yet the whereabouts of the stolen silver likely remained known within the shelter.

What of Liu Xing’s disgust toward Ren Lin and hatred for Luan Chao? Were they caused by their poor or inaccurate translation?

No one knew.

Di Ying wondered: if he himself could neither speak nor hear the outside world, if an interpreter carelessly distorted his words during questioning, would he understand? Perhaps.

If someone beside him in interrogation mimicked his gestures or drew simple images while the interpreter relayed his words, the prisoner’s resentment or hatred toward the interpreter would be entirely natural. After all, being mute and deaf did not mean lacking intelligence.

But why were the interpreters’ skills so poor? Or did they misinterpret Di Ying’s gestures simply because his signals conflicted with the standardized ones they had learned?