Chapter Forty-Seven: The Two Little Foxes

"Ah, I thought it was something serious," Yao Cong said. At first, he had frowned as he listened, but by the end, his eyes were red. He lifted his hand to clap Di Ying on the shoulder, then patted his own chest. "You don't have to compensate me. Those two horses—whoever found them would have to return them anyway. Unless someone has a death wish, no one would dare keep them as their own.

But it's not right for you to always be without a horse, having to walk everywhere on your own two feet. You have a whole family, and now that you're related to an official household, how can you make everyone walk everywhere? People would laugh at you all over the capital. It's not easy for any of us. To prevent you from being tempted by poverty into corruption, let me give you ten horses. And... well, two—no, three carriages. How about that?"

"Where did you get so many horses? Don't tell me you're misappropriating government property. That's a capital offense," Di Ying said in surprise, turning to him with a hand on Yao Cong’s arm, immediately trying to stop him.

Yao Cong laughed at his reaction. "Don't worry. In a few days, there will be idle horses and carriages registered at the Imperial Stables. I'll just underreport the numbers a little—no one will ask questions. You know how these things work, I don't need to explain. Whenever someone's family is confiscated, the officials in charge always keep some things for themselves. No one hands everything over. In the past, I always registered whatever was brought to me. This time, I'll give them a heads-up and have them set some aside for me. They'll be glad to; it's a small matter.

Take Zhang Jiafu, for instance. Wasn't his whole family executed? All the things they confiscated filled warehouses. I never took a single item for myself—I'd say my conscience is spotless. Speaking of him, I heard he fell at your hands. You’ve got some skill!" Yao Cong finished, patting Di Ying's arm in return.

When Yao Cong mentioned Zhang Jiafu, Di Ying shook his head, withdrew his hand, and raised his cup for a toast. Only after Yao Cong drained his cup did Di Ying ask, "Brother Yuan, from your tone, it sounds like you have more to say. You're willing to help me with horses and carriages—don't you trust me? Is there a need to test me?"

"It's not that," Yao Cong said, putting down his empty cup, looking a bit awkward. After a moment’s pause, he spoke with a hint of melancholy. "There are many people you can eat and drink with, and share benefits with. But when it comes to getting things done, it's not quite the same. I've only just gotten to know you. I don't know your character well, only that you're reputed to be skilled in criminal cases. So I wanted to chat with you.

But this case... is complicated, with deep entanglements. It's hard for me to bring it up."

"Go ahead," Di Ying replied, refilling Yao Cong's cup and settling in to listen with interest.

"Very well!" Seeing Di Ying's attitude, Yao Cong downed his cup in one gulp. "As you said, I used to be too fond of having fun, always gathering friends and wasting time. I had a childhood friend named Wu Minzhe—he always stuck by me; we were the closest. But on the twelfth of June last year, he... he died."

Yao Cong poured himself another cup, drained it, pressed the rim down on the table, and spoke with bitterness. "He was public-spirited and upright, and like me, disliked having attendants follow him. That day, he left the city alone to hunt in the western suburbs. He saw a young noble harassing a common girl and rushed in to help. But that young noble wasn't alone—he had only left his followers behind while chasing the girl. Wu Minzhe thought he was by himself. When he beat the young noble to a pulp, the followers suddenly appeared. Then the young noble... he had Wu Minzhe beaten to death."

At this, Yao Cong wiped his face, placed his hands on his knees, and continued, "I only learned of this when Wu Minzhe's family came to me for help. I found the girl and learned the details, tracked down the young noble's identity. And do you know who he was? He was Wu Qiongsi's second son, Wu Xiangjin! Tell me, how could I fight Wu Qiongsi? At the time, I was just a minor official of the sixth rank, and even that was honorary—just for show. I was already the highest-ranking in my family. What power did I have to take on Wu Qiongsi?

But I couldn't just do nothing, could I? So I went to Song Wen. He told me, ‘Wu Xiangjin denies being there, and one of his followers confessed, saying he killed Wu Minzhe. The girl disappeared—no witnesses, no evidence.’ Song Wen said the Prefecture Office was helpless. Wu Qiongsi had already spoken to Prefect Wu Desen, who quickly closed the case, sentencing that follower to execution in the autumn. I wasn't satisfied, so I took Wu Minzhe's parents to the High Court.

The High Court accepted the case, but after a month, they told me Wu Minzhe’s parents had signed a reconciliation statement, accepting compensation. Ha! That follower didn’t even have to die. Tell me, Huaijie, isn't this ridiculous?

I went to see Wu Minzhe's parents. They just cried, shaking their heads and saying to let it go. The dead were gone, and the living had to keep living. Let it go? That was my brother’s life! So I filed a petition with the emperor. But—you know how it is. Nothing came of it, but I got promoted. You know what that means, right? It was to shut me up. I refused; I put down my official seal and went to the High Court again. But no one would see me, because I wasn’t considered the aggrieved party. Those I used to eat and drink with avoided me. Later, a friend of my brother’s told me privately that the case was shelved as a cold case and the follower was released. I thought it over and picked up my official seal again. I need to be an official—a high one. But the pain in my heart..."

Yao Cong buried his face on the table as he finished.

Di Ying listened in silence, and only five words resounded in his mind: The Wu family, again!

...

Meanwhile, outside the flower house in the southern suburbs, the common folk, still eating their porridge and flatbread, saw Lord Di being carried away at a run and exchanged startled glances as they stood up. Just then, a shout came from inside the flower house: "Lord Di has been poisoned!"

At this, many of those holding flatbreads dropped them in shock.

But not their bowls.

Bowls were valuable—especially those belonging to the gentry—so no one dared drop them. Instinctively, they gripped them tightly.

Food was precious, too. If the flatbread fell, they immediately picked it up and brushed it off, but the appetite was gone, and instead, they began to talk among themselves.

"How could Lord Di be poisoned? Was he attacked?"

"Obviously! So what should we do?"