Chapter Seventy-Two: Taken Away, Bearing the Blame

This left Zhang Maoqing utterly shocked. He yanked his wife behind him, glaring angrily at the intruders.

"You—"

He hadn't finished speaking before the strangers darted forward, swiftly knocking him unconscious with a single blow, then slinging him over a shoulder and leaving. His wife, just about to scream, met the same fate and collapsed senseless to the ground.

...

Meanwhile, in the magistrate's office of Jingzhao Prefecture, the prefect Wu Desen—nearly sixty years old—sat fuming. Having escaped the inferno, he had returned home and now sat stroking his beard, half of which had been singed away by the sparks, his anger only deepening. His family members, seeing him thus, tried in vain to stifle their laughter, which only incensed Wu Desen further and sent them all fleeing from the room.

At this moment, his third grandson, Wu Junbing, came to report news. Wu Desen instructed him to speak through the door.

Wu Junbing loudly announced, "Zhang Maoqing has been taken away by the Tribunal, suspected of arson."

Wu Desen was momentarily stunned by this. After a dazed reply of "I understand," he lapsed into silent contemplation. What was Zhang Maoqing doing burning down the Dentists' Guild? Was he so weary of writing impeachment memorials that he wished to set the whole lot ablaze? What on earth had gotten into him? And why was it the Tribunal that acted, rather than the secret backers of the "Kexin Dentists' Guild"? There was definitely something suspicious at play here.

With these thoughts, Wu Desen forgot his anger and called for Wu Junbing to enter. As soon as he stepped inside, Wu Desen instructed, "Go find Song Wen and ask how his investigation into the Dentists' Guild fire is progressing. Get as many details as possible."

Wu Junbing set out immediately. Upon reaching the gate of the prefecture office, fortune smiled—he ran straight into Song Wen, who was hurrying to mount his horse.

"Deputy Prefect Song?"

Wu Junbing called him. Recognizing him, Song Wen stopped and greeted him with a clasped fist, asking, "Why has the third young master come so late?"

"My grandfather sent me to ask about something. How is your investigation into the fire going? I heard Zhang Maoqing set it?"

It was well into the second watch of the night; Wu Junbing wasted no time and stated his purpose directly.

At the mention of Zhang Maoqing as the arson suspect, Song Wen's eyes flickered, and he hesitated.

Wu Junbing knew Song Wen for his reputation as a "tortoise"—never one to give a direct answer about anything certain or definite. Unwilling to bandy words, Wu Junbing pressed him, "Zhang Maoqing was taken by two men from the Tribunal. Just tell me—was he your suspect? My father sent me to ask. Can you give me a straight answer?"

Two men from the Tribunal? Song Wen's eyes flickered again. Instead of answering, he asked, "Third Young Master, how do you know this?"

"Tch, still worried the news isn't reliable? I was on patrol myself on Censor Street last night—saw two men in Tribunal uniforms carry Zhang Maoqing over the wall and out of his house with my own eyes. One of them even greeted me. Tell me, how many died in that fire? Do you know who they were?"

Wu Junbing replied impatiently. Strictly speaking, he shouldn't have shared these details with outsiders, especially about his own activities on Censor Street. His grandfather had specifically sent him to keep an eye on the censors to prevent them from interfering with the "Kexin Dentists' Guild" scheme. Yet he had been unable to keep Zhang Maoqing in check. After leaving the office yesterday, Zhang Maoqing hadn't returned home, but wandered off and went straight to the "Kexin Dentists' Guild" instead.

Wu Junbing felt safe confiding in Song Wen, since Song Wen was considered "one of their own." Over the years, most of Song Wen's solved cases had ultimately brought credit to Wu Desen. To Wu Junbing, Song Wen was simply a tireless "drudge" working for the family. The more Song Wen knew, the faster he could crack the case.

Sure enough, as soon as Wu Junbing finished, Song Wen's attitude shifted and he spoke with new decisiveness.

"Third Young Master, only the Dentists' Guild building burned down, killing about twenty people. Based on current leads, Zhang Maoqing is the likely culprit."

At this, Wu Junbing wheeled his horse and rode off. Given Song Wen's cautious nature, for him to say "likely" meant he was virtually certain. Wu Junbing returned to report to his grandfather.

Song Wen, watching Wu Junbing depart, clutched the bundle hidden in his robe more tightly, mounted his horse, and set off to find Di Ying.

Di Ying was by the torchlight, reviewing the autopsy notes. Earlier, he had been examining the charred bodies, dictating his observations as Peng Liang recorded everything. Now, with the examinations finished and the corpses removed, Di Ying lingered beside the torch, reading through Peng Liang's notes and adding detailed supplements of his own.

As Song Wen approached and saw only Peng Liang nearby, he dismounted and hurried over.

"Was it Zhang Maoqing who set the fire?" he asked.

Di Ying paused, quill in hand, his phoenix eyes blinking as he looked up at Song Wen.

Song Wen slapped his thigh and exclaimed in a low voice, "I knew this was your doing!"

But as Di Ying only blinked and said nothing, Song Wen pressed on, "When have those Tribunal enforcers ever dared to go out in the dead of night with just two men? When do they not show up in packs, strutting and bullying their way through people's gates? And when have they ever arrested someone without ransacking the place? That's not their style! Carrying people off? If they didn't drag them along the ground, that's mercy for them. Tell me, why did you set up Zhang Maoqing? Was he in the Dentists' Guild at the time? The man's a bit stubborn and not too bright, but he's an honest official—why target him? Hurry and tell me, so I know how to cooperate with you."

As Di Ying listened to this barrage, the corners of his eyes lifted slightly in amusement. But his reply left Song Wen dumbfounded.

"Here's the autopsy record—memorize it. There's half an hour until the fourth watch; you'd best hurry."

Song Wen sputtered, "You want me to report directly to His Majesty? Why don't you do it yourself?"

Di Ying sighed, "His Majesty isn't pleased with me lately."

Song Wen burst out laughing, eyeing Di Ying with a mixture of amusement and suspicion. "Are you trying to set me up? That's no small burden you're handing me."

Di Ying replied, "Will you memorize it or not?"

"I will!"

Song Wen agreed instantly, then muttered, "Just don't let me get killed over this—save me a breath at least."

Di Ying smiled, genuinely delighted. "Wu Desen will make sure you keep that breath."

Song Wen was speechless. He looked at Di Ying, then at the little notebook in Di Ying's hands; after a moment of resignation, he took it, pulling a parcel of oiled paper from his robe and handing it over.

He wasn't sure if Di Ying meant for him to memorize the record or take the blame, but following along had always proved safe. In fact, he found himself rather willing to take Di Ying's orders.

Inside the oiled paper parcel were eighty-eight identity documents.

Di Ying accepted them and promptly handed them to Peng Liang, whose figure melted into the shadows.