Chapter Forty-One: Lost Blossoms or Lost Tribute
Wu Jianhui listened, fell silent for two breaths, then ground his back teeth and turned his back to the crowd.
Seeing his stance as tacit approval, Song Wen hurriedly beckoned Di Ying to enter the courtyard.
Di Ying, with a wave of his large hand, called the common folk along, and they surged in with a rustling clamor.
The people’s opinions of Di Ying shifted at once—they quickly followed, their steps tight with anticipation.
Some of them began to ponder privately: Perhaps what Lord Di said was true, and maybe in the future, they really could bring their grievances to him.
Still, they wanted to see—see if Lord Di was truly capable of solving the case.
Di Ying welcomed their scrutiny.
He led them, following the steward who guided the way, to a spot near a perimeter wall.
The steward faced Di Ying with his chin raised a bit too high, gave a perfunctory bow, and said, “The thieves climbed over the wall here.”
Di Ying paid no mind to the man’s attitude. He signaled everyone to halt, then walked over to the wall, and questioned the steward who was sticking close to him.
“I heard there were fifty thieves who entered?”
The steward stammered, “Ah? Ah! Yes, yes, fifty.”
Inwardly, he was puzzled: The master had clearly instructed to report thirty—how did it become fifty? Did the master change his mind midway? He’d better play along and not expose the ruse.
Di Ying nodded slightly, then asked, “What was stolen? Did the thieves carry weapons?”
The steward replied, “It was rouge and powders for His Majesty’s exclusive use. The thieves… didn’t carry weapons!”
“Oh?” Di Ying let out a sound, then said, “No wonder it’s called a valuable item. Tribute goods are indeed of great value. But the thieves had no weapons? Are you sure?”
The steward’s eyes darted back and forth, frantically recalling: When the guards were told to stage the scene, did they have weapons or not?
“They didn’t!” he answered with certainty.
Di Ying gave him a faint smile, then asked an unrelated question: “Did the guards responsible for this villa sign indenture contracts?”
“They did. Such an important place—how could anyone be allowed in without signing?” the steward replied, his neck arched with some arrogance.
Di Ying continued, “Do you have very few servants here? Why hasn’t the snow in the courtyard been cleared in such an important place?”
The steward was speechless for a moment, then, his eyes turning again, replied, “Since thieves broke in last night, I forbade them from clearing the snow, for fear of destroying evidence.”
“Hmm, I understand,” Di Ying said, then turned to address the crowd: “Snow began falling late yesterday afternoon and only stopped at mid-morning today, nearly ten hours in total. The tribute was stolen in the early hours today. You all know how heavy the snow was, don’t you? If not, you remember the thickness of the snow along the road here. Footprints left in the early hours…”
While speaking, Di Ying crouched down and pointed to a footprint at the base of the wall: “Some of these prints are already blurred, while others remain clear. Can you all see?”
The crowd nodded, while the steward’s face changed drastically.
Di Ying curled his lips and asked the steward, “What is it? Did the thieves come several times?”
The crowd burst into laughter at the steward’s expense.
The steward pressed his lips tight, lowered his head, and remained silent.
Di Ying didn’t care whether he answered or not. He walked to the other side of the courtyard wall, to a patch of untouched snow, bent over and brushed it aside.
Some frozen flower petals appeared.
The steward’s face changed completely; he hurried over as if to speak.
He was baffled: How could there be flower petals here? Could it be that the flower thieves really came last night?
Before he could speak, Di Ying instructed Peng Liang, “Xiao Peng, check outside the courtyard wall here—dig through the snow and see if there are also flowers or petals. Pay attention to how long they’ve been frozen.”
Peng Liang responded at once, leaped over the wall, and soon called out, “There are, quite a few, and they seem to have frozen since the early hours. The snow on top is thick, and the trail leads toward the greenhouse.”
Di Ying glanced at the steward and said, “It seems that what’s missing from your villa isn’t just rouge and powders, but these flowers as well, isn’t it?”
He then turned to Song Wen: “Lord Song, gentlemen, since this case has already reached His Majesty, I must investigate thoroughly. Not the slightest clue can be overlooked. Let’s go to the greenhouse and see.”
Song Wen nodded. He understood that this was the logical course. He also realized that Wu Jianhui had likely filed a false report, or was using the pretext of missing flowers to target Huang Siyuan.
Seeing one’s own kind suffer, Song Wen felt a surge of anger and was willing to support Di Ying in pursuing the truth.
The steward thought it over and did not object.
Their master had deliberately reported the stolen flowers as tribute to make the matter more severe. Now, with both tribute and flowers missing, the case seemed even more serious—so let them look.
Thinking thus, he took the lead.
Some among the commoners were still confused, others enlightened, but all followed eagerly.
Truth be told: they were quite happy to be part of solving the case—or, rather, to witness trouble brewing in the estate of a prominent official.
They followed with great enthusiasm, but were stopped outside the greenhouse.
The flowers and plants within were delicate; the steward refused to let these commoners inside, fearing they’d cause damage.
Di Ying did not insist. Instead, he said to the steward, “It’s bitterly cold, and the people have followed all this way. There’s a hot spring canal here—quite warm. Have someone bring tea and refreshments, or at least cook a large pot of porridge and bake some flatbread for us all.”
The steward hesitated, wanting to refuse but not daring to. He feared that if he denied even this, Lord Di would insist on letting the people into the greenhouse for warmth.
Gritting his teeth, he ordered the servants to cook porridge and bake bread.
Di Ying waited, taking the opportunity to “make small talk” with Song Wen and the other officials.
“Lord Vice Minister Zuo is an official. Isn’t there a law prohibiting officials from engaging in commerce? Why, then, is tribute being produced in his villa?” Di Ying asked.
Song Wen pondered and replied, “It’s not Vice Minister Zuo himself conducting business. He has a son, who is the imperial merchant in charge of these tribute cosmetics. The tribute… likely isn’t kept in the villa.”
His last words were much softer.
Inwardly, he thought: Wu Jianhui has already filed a false report. At court, he didn’t dare claim that the villa was where the tribute was kept. The goods must be in a workshop in the city.
As for the prohibition on officials trading? That’s more honored in the breach. Which well-known shop in the city doesn’t have an official’s relative behind it?
Or perhaps…