Chapter Sixty-Two: You Know How to Use It, but I Don’t?

Wu Qiongsi responded instantly, “Explain what? The law of this dynasty is clear: if the victim’s family provides a letter of forgiveness, it counts as withdrawing the accusation, and the accused may be released. You've been serving at the Court of Judicial Review for over a month now—how do you not know this?”

“That settles it, then!”

Di Ying’s smile deepened, broad and radiant.

Seeing his smile and hearing his words, for reasons unknown, both the old emperor and Wu Qiongsi felt a sudden jolt in their hearts—a sense of impending disaster.

Indeed, Di Ying reached into his robes and produced a large folded sheet of paper, which he unfolded and shook before them.

On the paper were the clear words: “Letter of Forgiveness.” The signature was unmistakable, crookedly scrawled: Wu Xiangjin!

“This is obviously forged!” Wu Qiongsi exploded in anger.

Di Ying smiled with calm indifference. “I barely know your son. Why would I forge such a thing? Even if I wanted to, this dog-scratch handwriting—you must have plenty of samples in your estate. The tutor who taught your son could recognize it, surely? Honestly, mimicking this script is no simple task.”

Wu Qiongsi was speechless. “This shouldn’t count! Who would forgive you for trying to kill him?”

“Quite right!” Di Ying applauded lightly, the paper crackling with each clap, yet it could not drown out his rich, solemn voice.

“Dozens of murder cases are implicated, but in the end, the parents, spouses, or children of the victims all signed letters of forgiveness for the murderer. What sense does that make? Is the court open only to the south, or is Wu Xiangjin uniquely special?”

“Is it just greed for money?” Wu Qiongsi blurted out.

Di Ying smiled again, folding the paper and tucking it away. He spread his hands toward Wu Qiongsi, saying, “Then call your son greedy, if you like. The fact remains: I have the letter of forgiveness. However I killed him, I am blameless.”

With that, he bowed to the old emperor. “Forgive me for disturbing your peace, Your Majesty. I shall return to treat my wounds.”

He turned and strode away.

Wu Qiongsi shouted after him, “I’ll have your head!”

Di Ying merely waved, not looking back.

The old emperor watched in silence.

Once Di Ying’s figure vanished, she turned to Wu Qiongsi and asked, not too softly or harshly, “Dozens of murder cases?”

Wu Qiongsi could not answer. He dared not lie. He dropped to his knees with a thud and burst into wailing tears, sobbing so hard he could barely breathe, his face wet with tears and snot.

“Nothing is more dangerous than sudden fortune, Qiongsi. If you cannot restrain those in your household, I fear you will disappoint me,” the old emperor sighed, ordering Eunuch Su to drive Wu Qiongsi out.

Yet in her heart, the old emperor felt not only disappointment toward her most hoped-for successor, but also a wary respect for Di Ying.

Since the old emperor’s ascension, the Wu family had risen along with her, growing complacent. In just over a month at the Court of Judicial Review, Di Ying had claimed the lives of two Wu family members.

The old emperor felt as if she’d grasped a hedgehog, and asked Su Hong, “Hongzi, do you think Di Ying’s promotion has come too fast? Should we send him below for more training?”

Eunuch Su replied with a seemingly unrelated comment, head bowed. “In this month alone, 325 unsolved cases have been resolved.”

“So many?” The old emperor was astonished.

After her surprise, she returned to the imperial desk and sat. After an unknown stretch of time, she picked up her brush and resumed reviewing memorials.

The hall grew quiet again, save for the faint rustle of pages as the emperor worked.

Among the palace maids kneeling at the side, ready to serve, one gently moved her fingers resting on her knees.

…

Meanwhile, at the Tong County dock, a large passenger ship had landed.

A rotund, squat man and a middle-aged steward, dressed as a shopkeeper, called out to twenty short-coated workers as they escorted a large group of children from the ship’s hold.

All were boys and girls, not yet grown, some not even thirteen or fourteen, the youngest barely five years old. Their expressions were dull, but their features were striking.

They formed four lines, walking down the gangplank onto the shore.

Suddenly, a boy of about five stumbled and fell.

A worker raised his leather whip and lashed him.

The boy gritted his teeth and climbed to his feet, holding back tears, not daring to cry.

The squat man glanced over and said to the steward, “Good job—so many in one shipment.”

The steward’s face was dark, replying angrily, “They said they’d gathered six hundred. But on the way, some officials demanded over three hundred. The remaining ones weren’t properly trained; too unruly. Some jumped into the river, others were thrown off. Why send us untrained stock? There are only ninety-two left now. Will the master be displeased?”

The squat man laughed with a duck-like quack. “This time is urgent. A few dozen will suffice. Let's take them back and train them some more.”

Just then, another child lagged behind and was struck on the leg with the whip, stumbled, and fell off the gangplank into the river.

Another child, seeing the moment, seized the chance, bit his lip, and leapt into the water.

A burly worker, seeing this, did not attempt to save them. Instead, he kicked two older boys standing nearby into the river as well.

He cursed as he kicked, “Watch those beside you! For every one that runs, one of you dies! Worthless brats—about to live in luxury, yet still chase death. If you want to die, die! I won’t shed a tear!”

The squat man praised the steward again, “Scaring the chickens to warn the monkeys—a good tactic. Look how obedient the rest are now.”

The steward nodded in satisfaction, seeing the remaining children lined up neatly. “Looks like we’ll deliver smoothly. But tonight, none of us will sleep.”

…

That night, not only did these men go without sleep, but so did the old emperor in the palace.

Wu Qiongsi lay awake, trembling.

Di Ying did not sleep either; after leaving the palace, he sat in the carriage, as Peng Liang helped him extract the arrow and treat his wound.

As the director had said: if left untreated, the injury would cost him his arm, if not his life.

That night, Yao Cong interrogated Wu Xiangjin’s guards in haste. Anyone implicated in murder was executed.

Their bodies and heads, along with Wu Xiangjin’s, were hung on the city gates.

Their crimes were written out and posted beneath their corpses on the city wall.