Chapter Thirty-One: Missing Evidence

And what about Di Ying? If he knew that His Majesty the Emperor thought this way, he would certainly tell her: when someone is surrounded by people who are outwardly respectful, fawning, and fearful, and suddenly a person appears who almost treats her as an equal, she will find it refreshing and welcome it.

This was something that came naturally to Di Ying, not by design, but it was indeed effective.

Of course, he knew this was possible because the emperor was, in fact, broad-minded at heart.

Had it been that fellow from another family...

Ha! Even a hundred heads would not have sufficed to be chopped off.

But if it were Qin...

Then the two of them could sit face to face, converse by candlelight deep into the night, and share a bed, feet touching beneath the covers...

Just thinking about it was delightful.

But it could only remain a thought.

Now that he had money in his pocket, and with another hundred taels of silver insisted from the Ministry of Revenue, Di Ying had arranged for the gold the emperor bestowed upon him and Peng Liang to be sent home. As soon as they changed out of their official uniforms, the two set out at once.

Qian Fu's entire estate had been confiscated, leaving only the ancestral home, where Qian Xiner now lived, cared for by the old steward, Tian Mo.

The once-prosperous Quxian had now fallen into a certain desolation.

Di Ying and Peng Liang rode on horseback from the capital to Quxian, reflecting deeply throughout the journey.

Qian Fu had contributed much to his hometown. The official road from the capital to Quxian was paved with large blue stone slabs, comparable to those within the capital's wards and markets.

Alongside the road, many wintergreen trees were planted. In this cold season, their presence dispelled much of the bleakness, adding a touch of vitality to the scene.

Within Quxian too, the streets were neatly planned and clean. The bridges were sturdy and durable.

But now, many shops had closed their doors, and the faces of the passersby showed little sign of joy.

As Di Ying rode through the streets, he could still sense the former prosperity.

In contrast with the current state, this sense of loss made his expression all the more solemn.

As they neared the Qian residence, Di Ying slowed his horse, considering whether he should find a woman to approach Qian Xiner first.

But he quickly dismissed the idea.

Qian Xiner now rejected all strangers, regardless of gender.

He might as well try himself. Di Ying raised his hand and rubbed his face vigorously.

When they reached the Qian residence, he dismounted. Peng Liang tied the two horses to the stone pillar at the entrance, then went to knock on the door.

Meanwhile, Di Ying observed the state of the house's façade.

A sigh rose in his heart: it truly was desolate now.

Some commit crimes with visible blades, blood drawn and lives taken.

Others, with invisible daggers, destroy a person or a family bit by bit, leaving no weapon in sight.

With a creak, the door opened.

An old man in his sixties, hair and beard completely white, bent with age, struggled to pull the door open just a crack.

"Who are you looking for?" the old man asked tremulously.

"Greetings, elder," Peng Liang bowed with courtesy and asked, "May I ask..."

He stopped, turning back to look at his superior.

His lord had said nothing along the way—he didn't know whom they were to meet.

Di Ying realized he had overlooked this detail.

He had always acted alone, with no one to rely on or confide in besides family. He was accustomed to turning everything over in his own mind.

Now, with Peng Liang alongside, he had yet to adapt.

He offered Peng Liang an apologetic smile, then turned to the elder's wary, questioning gaze, and replied gently, "Elder, I am Di Ying, the newly appointed Vice Minister of the Court of Judicial Review. I would like to meet your young mistress..."

Before he could finish, the old man shrank back, preparing to shut the door.

He muttered, "Another official—none of you are any good. Why do you want to see my young mistress? The more you see her, the more she fears people. Will you only be satisfied once you've driven her to death?"

Di Ying could only rub his nose at the old man's complaints.

Repeated interrogations, repeatedly asking Qian Xiner about the past, again and again giving hope only to dash her into the abyss.

Not to mention someone on the verge of collapse like Qian Xiner—even a normal person could scarcely endure it.

"Elder, I wish to see your master returned home, but justice must be served. If your young mistress truly cannot receive visitors, then tell me: do you still have any of those powders and cosmetics from before?

If not, I beg you to speak to your young mistress and tell her I wish to see her.

As long as I can find any trace of poison on her face, I will see to it that justice is done for your household. What do you say?

Remember: my name is Di Ying. If I fail to keep my word, you may come to the Court of Judicial Review and accuse me."

No sooner had he finished speaking than the door, which had just been closed, swung open again—this time wide.

The old man's face showed both joy and anxiety as he stepped out, wringing his weathered hands, uncertain, and asked, "You really can detect poison from my young mistress's face? Will it help release my master?

The powders from those days are gone...

My master took them everywhere, seeking experts and lodging complaints; in the end, somehow, they were taken out and never brought back. Said someone knocked them over. Because of that, my master never won a case. According to his wishes, I spent almost all the family’s money, but still couldn’t save him.

Those damned, cursed officials only know how to take bribes, but never do their duty. When I went to see them, I was beaten and thrown out..."

The old man rambled on.

Di Ying kept a friendly smile, but inwardly, he was heavy-hearted.

In truth, not every official who had presided over this case was necessarily corrupt. But with key evidence missing, none of them had shown sufficient diligence.

Matters concerning food or daily use are especially prone to problems, yet difficult to preserve as evidence.

Thus the officials needed to be meticulous, patient, to carefully untangle the causes, logic, and emotions involved.

They must never judge hastily.

And how could they accept bribes and still not take the case to heart?

When the old steward finally finished, Di Ying bowed and said, "You have suffered, elder. Please, lead the way."

"Yes, yes, at once—I'll take you right away. But my young mistress has suffered greatly and may not receive you properly. Please, forgive her."

A lifetime spent bowing to others, especially to officials—never before had an official bowed to him. The steward was astonished, deeply moved, and shed tears of gratitude and sorrow.

This was a good official; his master had hope for release at last. Why had they not met him sooner...

Wiping his old face, the steward straightened his bent back a little, flung the main door wide, and eagerly led the way.

The Qian estate was vast, but now, for want of care, weeds grew everywhere. The trees had lost their shape, the flowers their bloom. Wild pheasants and rabbits could sometimes be seen darting about.

Much of the overgrowth had even lifted the stone slabs of the paths.

But the thick snow covered nearly all of this.

Only one path remained clean and clear.