Chapter Fifty-Four: The Blade Falls, Silencing All Witnesses

His Majesty was everything one could hope for, save that she ascended the throne as a woman—a fact that drew countless reproaches and planted seeds of doubt even within herself. Yet the Wu family supported her unstintingly, so both in public and in private, she could not help but show them favor.

Su Hong understood this well.

But he felt that if things continued thus, the dynasty would eventually collapse under its own weight, and His Majesty would in the end be consumed by the very forces she now indulged.

Di Ying, bold as he was, dared to strike the first blow against the Wu family, and Su Hong believed he would not stop there.

In his heart, Su Hong supported Di Ying.

Yet he could not voice this aloud. He could only remain silent, letting His Majesty’s suspicion run its course.

The hall fell into a quiet stillness.

After some time, the old emperor finally clicked his tongue and remarked with a sigh, “Truly, a hedgehog.”

With that, he drifted off toward the imperial study.

Su Hong let out half a breath of relief and hurried to follow.

Outside, the cold wind howled fiercer than ever, as if determined to sweep away all before it, leaving everything in its path tilting and unsteady.

Under the shroud of night, shadows danced wildly, turning the world into a chaos of confusion.

...

On such a night, beneath these winds, while the old emperor found no rest, others were stirred into action.

In the capital, within a poor quarter known as the Flowing Market, where common folk huddled together, a modest courtyard stood.

Wang Mu, clad in a short jacket, carried a wooden tray bearing a steamed bun and a bowl of water into a side room.

Inside, Ma Cai sat bound hand and foot on a stool, staring blankly into space.

The moment Wang Mu entered, hope burst into Ma Cai’s eyes. He struggled to his feet and leapt forward, falling to his knees in desperation.

“Sir, I beg you, have mercy and let me go! I am only a servant of the Minister of Rites’ household. Everything I did was at my master’s command. Whatever grievance or enmity you have, it cannot concern me. Release me, I beg you—I have savings, I can give you all the silver I have. Just let me go.”

Wang Mu forced a smile and squatted down, placing the tray on the floor and gently pushing it toward Ma Cai.

He gave no answer, only said, “Eat and drink something first.”

After speaking, Wang Mu met Ma Cai’s pleading gaze, glanced meaningfully toward the door behind him, then pressed a finger to his lips in a gesture for silence.

Seeing these signals, Ma Cai—always quick to read a situation—suddenly understood. He closed his mouth, seized the bun, and began to wolf it down, his eyes never leaving Wang Mu. He choked a little but refused to look away.

Wang Mu picked up the bowl, placed it in Ma Cai’s hand, and scolded him in a low voice, “Ma Cai! Since you know you’re just your master’s dog, you shouldn’t have jumped up to shoulder the crime of murder! Nor should you have relied on your master’s influence, thinking you could escape retribution and remain unscathed. Look at you now—no place left to run. Murder demands a life. Prepare yourself to die for your master.”

Having finished his tirade, Wang Mu watched Ma Cai drink the water, then, with a subtle gesture, flashed three fingers at him before rising and leaving the room.

Outside, Sun Hui stood waiting.

As Wang Mu exited, Sun Hui closed the door and sneered, “Why waste your breath on him? The master only said to keep an eye on him, not to chat with him. Don’t do anything unnecessary to jeopardize the master’s trust.”

Wang Mu lowered his gaze and replied in a weary, hushed tone, “We’re all servants. Usually, we follow orders, but when trouble comes, we’re the first to be thrown to the wolves. It’s hard to watch, that’s all.”

“Tch, what’s that supposed to mean? You can’t compare the master to the likes of his. We’re not the same kind of people. The master treats us well. Don’t think too much,” Sun Hui retorted.

Wang Mu nodded and fell silent.

Sun Hui, however, still found Wang Mu’s attitude dangerous and was about to say more when a loud crash sounded from within the room.

Irritated, Sun Hui grumbled, “See? A dog like him, used to throwing his weight around, still refuses to accept reality even when tied up. Good thing there’s only one stool, or he’d have smashed everything by now. Keep a closer eye—I’ll just bind him to the pillar.”

So saying, Sun Hui pushed open the door and strode inside, intending to give Ma Cai a few kicks and tie him up more securely.

But the sight that met him froze his blood.

In the dim light of a guttering oil lamp, Ma Cai had collapsed to the ground, dark blood oozing from his mouth and dripping from every orifice.

He was not yet dead, but convulsing, choking out more black blood.

Sun Hui rushed to him, knelt down, and punched Ma Cai’s stomach, roaring, “Spit it out! Spit out everything you ate!”

Ma Cai did vomit, expelling more black blood and a few morsels of bun.

But after only two retches, he convulsed and expired.

Dead…

Sun Hui stared in shock at the lifeless body, his mind a blank.

He and Wang Mu had served Master Yao since childhood, trusted aides who had never once failed him.

After receiving their master’s latest orders, they had waited outside the Minister of Rites’ mansion, seized the moment when Ma Cai was alone, and brought him here in secret.

The master had repeatedly urged: guard Ma Cai well—let nothing happen to him, let him neither escape nor die.

Yet … how had things come to this?

In numbed disbelief, Sun Hui’s gaze fell on the remnants of bun.

A sudden jolt of terror shot through him.

He scrambled to his feet and dashed outside.

But Wang Mu was already gone.

…

Elsewhere, in the Craftsmen’s Quarter, a similar modest courtyard sheltered Wu Minzhe’s parents, who sat together in a side room, sighing wretchedly.

“Master Yao took us here without a word, and it’s been nearly ten days. He hasn’t come back, nor let us go. How long does he intend to keep us confined?” Wu’s father asked.

At his words, Wu’s mother’s thin, careworn face grew even more sorrowful. In a faltering voice, she replied, “Master Yao must hate us. He was only Minzhe’s friend, yet he ran all over for him, while we… well, let us be locked away. Perhaps it’s a form of atonement.”

“Atonement? What for? Was any of it within our power?” Wu’s father retorted angrily. “We’re a whole family. Minzhe stood up and lost his life—must we all follow him to the grave? You think I don’t grieve for him? His death pains me more than my own, but we can’t fight those villains. Even Master Yao couldn’t prevail—so why take us captive and vent his anger on us?”