Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

The moment the Prefect of Lan looked over, Song Yunzhi immediately knew he had not recognized him.

In the capital, the two had never met.

But the county magistrate behind him, Song Yunzhi, left some impression—he was in his fifties, had only just passed the imperial examination after many hardships, and ill-fortune had him caught in the transition to the new dynasty. After waiting three years, the post of magistrate in Yangzhou finally opened.

Before taking office, he had traveled thousands of miles to Jinling to meet His Majesty.

Song Yunzhi happened to be nearby that day and respectfully offered a toast to congratulate him on his appointment.

That was the moment he had overlooked.

The county magistrate’s surname was Zhang—Zhang Wenxian—a poor man from a remote township who had seen few nobles in his life. He was deeply impressed by the young lord before him.

The first time he saw him two years ago, he was struck as if beholding a celestial being, marveling at how much the Creator’s craftsmanship could vary. He felt like a useless relic beside him. Later, after inquiring with palace servants, he learned this was the current Princess’s and the Marquis of Yong’an’s only son—the Song heir apparent.

Because of that one glance, he had often boasted to his subordinates over the past two years about seeing the real person, nearly losing his soul in awe.

His mind was still clear enough to immediately suspect this was the inspector sent by the court.

It was indeed him!

Magistrate Zhang’s legs went weak; he dared not think further. His vision darkened; his neck itched and numbed; his tongue could not find its way. When the young lord suddenly called himself a “commoner,” Zhang was stunned, utterly unable to speak or lift his head, unsure whether he should continue kneeling or quickly rise.

While in this torment, he heard footsteps approach and a voice inquire, “Does your honor suffer from weakness? I have some knowledge of medicine and can help unblock your meridians.”

Whatever he said was law; Zhang nodded fervently.

The Song heir helped him up by the arm, guiding him to sit on some nearby steps, then bent down to massage his legs, softly warning, “Do not make a sound; do not reveal my identity.”

All right... he would keep silent.

Zhang nodded vigorously but wished he could stop the leg massage—it took his breath away, making him want to burst out of his chest. “I’m fine now...”

Truly fine, Zhang somehow found the strength to stand miraculously, bowing repeatedly to the young lord before him, “Thank you, young lord. Your medical skills are excellent...”

The Prefect of Lan noticed his unsteady steps and pale complexion and frowned, asking, “Are you truly all right?”

“An old ailment. If I skip breakfast, I sweat and feel weak in the legs...” Zhang wiped his hot sweat but still dared not look at the young lord. After sitting, his spirit revived considerably. He raised his voice and shouted into the tavern, “Where are the Cui family? Bring them out!”

His righteous roar caught the Prefect’s attention.

Zhang Wenxian continued wiping sweat and declared, “His Majesty has always cared for the people’s welfare. How dare you oppress the good folk? Today, the prefect and I will enforce justice, eliminate tyranny, and restore fairness to the people!”

Having finished, he turned to the Prefect with a smile, “Your Honor, do you agree?”

Who was this Magistrate Zhang? Usually timid and cautious, never one to stick his neck out. These words, however, rang with righteous authority, like the great Judge Bao reborn. Lan Mingquan was suspicious but could not show it. Since the Cui family’s involvement had implicated him, he must clear things up promptly. To distance himself now was the only way to salvage his reputation before the court’s officials arrived in Yangzhou. “Magistrate Zhang speaks rightly. Anyone who dares oppress the people or commit crimes in Yangzhou will be severely punished—no exceptions. Seal the building and take the culprits away.”

The officers entered to arrest the offenders.

Qian Tong had obtained what he wanted and no longer cared how justice was served. Summoning a courageous youth nearby, he said, “Yun Zhen, let’s go.”

Magistrate Zhang’s face almost turned green.

The Seventh Lady of the Qian family had good taste but poor judgment. The honorable heir of the Marquis’s household, the emperor’s own nephew, was taken by a mere merchant family as a live-in son-in-law.

Absurd.

She was courting death.

Seeing her prepare to leave, the magistrate hurried forward two steps to block her, “Lady Qian, please stay and come to the yamen. I shall ensure justice for you and the young lord.”

Qian Tong replied, “No need. The eldest son of the Cui family has paid compensation. As long as the Prefect and Magistrate can bring justice to the victims, I have nothing more to dispute.”

“How could you not dispute?” The magistrate finally dared to raise his head and look at the two disheveled figures. “Look at Lady Qian’s hair—damn it, these people really dared to lay hands on you. The young lord too suffered...”

“No harm done.” Qian Tong was busy and could not waste time at the yamen. “Only minor injuries. My husband braves wind and rain; he’s used to it—thick-skinned and tough. It’s nothing serious.”

“Lady Qian...” The magistrate broke out in cold sweat, unsure which words had frightened him so. But since the heir apparent deliberately concealed his identity, there must be a reason. He could say no more, lest he raise suspicion, and could only watch helplessly as the Qian family’s Seventh Lady led the others away.

The storm was coming.

The Prefect of Lan took note of Zhang’s unusual righteous demeanor that day. On the way back, he deliberately probed, “I feel Magistrate Zhang was different today—very just indeed.”

Zhang immediately dropped to his knees, tearfully confessing, “Your servant is ashamed. Two years as magistrate and I did not know such atrocities existed in my jurisdiction. Today, seeing the people’s rage, my heart is deeply moved. I too come from the countryside and have failed to protect these people. I have no face to face the emperor and am unworthy of this official robe...”

Was he mocking himself?

Lan Mingquan was too weary to tolerate his act. He dismissed him and boarded the carriage, allowing a trace of sarcasm to appear, “When the court’s purge comes, even Zhang Wenxian knows to protect himself and serve the people diligently.”

His wife, however, remained ignorant.

She still dared to bring their youngest son to the betrothal banquet, stirring up trouble and leaving him to clean up the mess.

No sooner had he returned home than the head of the Cui family came calling. Lan Mingquan waved him off with disdain, “Not seeing him. Cancel the marriage.”

The Cui family head had initially come seeking help—the tavern incident had to be suppressed, or once the court officials arrived, the Cui family’s position would be untenable.

But failing to meet the Prefect, the messenger delivered a harsh rebuke instead: “The Cui family, as major merchants of Yangzhou, not only fail to support the people but also bully and harm them. How can the Prefect’s household marry into such villains?”

The engagement was broken off.

The Cui family head was not satisfied. He paced around the Prefect’s courtyard wall, shouting to see the Prefect and recounting the brotherly bond forged over drinks days earlier.

Lan Mingquan, fearing escalation, finally summoned him inside.

Upon meeting, he scolded, “What do you expect me to do? The Qian family has won the hearts of the people. Didn’t you see the commotion on the street? The beggars outside the soup kitchen have all gathered to demand justice for the Qians.”

The Cui family head knew this was why he had come, “Your Honor, you must help us find a solution...”

It was too late; clinging to their wealth was a death sentence. “If the Cui family can’t think of a better plan, surely you can mimic others? The Qians know to set up a soup kitchen, don’t they?”

The Cui family head wore a mournful face, “Do you think I don’t want to provide soup? We truly have no silver.”

A great family, owning over a dozen taverns in the city—who would believe a lack of funds to offer charity?

Yet he said, “We have indeed run dry. A few days ago at the engagement, we gave you 100,000 taels of silver, ten teahouses, ten shops, and ten property deeds. My wife wanted a perfect match and to climb higher through this marriage. Our family fortune is thus emptied...”

That one statement sealed the Cui family head’s fate.

As he left the Prefect’s mansion, he was immediately seized by the yamen and thrown into Magistrate Zhang’s jail.

Nothing was more satisfying than seeing the head of the wealthy merchant family imprisoned for oppressing the people.

Within days, the Cui family plummeted from the heights to the depths. The betrothal was broken; the head was detained in the yamen; and when Madam Cui sought the Prefect’s help again, she was turned away.

That night, upon hearing the eldest son had returned, she hurried to him.

Though not her biological child, she had never disliked him. From youth, he read others’ moods skillfully and managed everything flawlessly, even softening her heart and earning her regard as her own son. “He’s finally back. There’s a great crisis at home—your father is imprisoned, and the engagement with the Prefect’s household has been broken.”

The eldest son nodded, interrupting, “I have heard.”

Madam Cui was frantic. Their once prosperous family was collapsing overnight. She asked anxiously, “How are the businesses outside? Have they been affected? Has the money been recovered?”

“Mother, rest assured. I will handle everything.”

He had always been the family’s pillar. Madam Cui trusted him. “Good. Hurry and find a way to get your father out. The second son’s business is a total loss; it cannot continue...”

Thinking of something, she turned to a maid, “Has the second young master returned? After such a disaster, where on earth has he gone?!”

Night had fallen. Fearing the second son might have been taken by the Prefect’s men like his father, Madam Cui went out to search personally.

The eldest son stayed up late, sorting through the events during his absence and dealing with countless trivial matters. Suddenly, he recalled what Seventh Lady Qian had said during the day, “She is ill and has something to tell you.”

He changed clothes and went to the great lady’s courtyard.

Just as he reached the corridor, the maid’s loud voice rang out.

“That Qian family Seventh Lady lost her own marriage and still has the nerve to incite the people to curse my Cui family...”

“As the saying goes, marry into a family and follow their fortunes. Even if the Cui family faces disaster, can anyone remain unaffected?”

“What do you know? When a woman loses her child, her heart turns elsewhere...”

These words were sent by Madam Cui, speaking slyly to the great lady inside and complaining for nearly an incense stick’s length of time.

The insults grew harsher. The young servant saw the eldest son’s grim expression and hurriedly said, “I’ve already silenced them...”

“No need.”

The eldest son stopped and turned away abruptly.

He could imagine what expression would be on that face—tears, accusations, disappointment, regret...

There were too many matters to deal with now, and he was not ready to face her. Avoidance was his only recourse.

—

After returning home, Qian Tong was summoned to the Qian family’s main hall by the family head and madam.

They simply questioned how she had suddenly torn ties with the Cui family and what they would do if the Cuis retaliated. Was the eldest lady still at the Cui residence?

Qian Tong replied, “My sister has promised to return.” With the eldest son back, she would obtain her divorce papers.

In a few days, she would be back.

After leaving the main hall, she did not hurry home but carried the box she had acquired to Song Yunzhi’s courtyard. While standing under the corridor, she suddenly heard the young lord urgently call, “Qian Tong!”

She quickened her steps, entered, and answered, “I’m here.”

The young lord under the lamplight was stunned, seemingly not expecting her sudden arrival. His sleeve movement was flustered, and he wiped the corner of his mouth fiercely.

It was not blood—it was the lipstick she had smeared on his mouth earlier at the tavern.

She never carried rouge when going out; it was obvious she had wiped it from her lips. No wonder those people earlier had looked at him strangely—he had sported her lipstick in broad daylight, exposed to countless eyes, and now his ears burned fiercely.

Qian Tong awaited his next words, only to see his earlobes flush deeper and hear him grit his teeth and scold, “Shameless!”