Chapter Seventy-Six: A Mouthful of Fur

Receiving the emperor’s peculiar gaze, Zhang Maoqing cupped his hands and replied, “I seldom bring guards with me.” This was to say, he had no one to summon.

After answering the emperor, Zhang Maoqing turned to Wu Desen’s eldest son, Wu Ming, the Right Assistant Minister of Personnel, and asked, “Minister Ming, you were present last night and had guards with you as well. Why didn’t you call for help?”

Wu Ming snorted coldly. “That’s none of your business!”

Zhang Maoqing then looked toward the emperor.

But the old emperor paid him no heed; instead, she leaned forward, craning her neck over the imperial desk, engrossed in watching Song Wen’s drawing.

She watched with great interest.

Yet, as she watched, she faintly felt she was overlooking or forgetting something.

Before she could recall it, half an hour had already slipped by.

Song Wen finished his drawing, then stood solemnly with his gaze lowered.

The old emperor, stretching her sore neck, asked, “Is this a floor plan of the ‘Kexin Brokerage House’?”

“Not just that,” Song Wen replied with a formal salute. “Your Majesty, to be precise: what I have drawn is the layout of the brokerage house on the night they held the auction. On ordinary days, the main hall only has the high platform—there’s no wooden stage or so many small round tables.”

The old emperor asked, “You seem to know it very well. Do you frequent that place?”

Song Wen nodded openly, replying with poise, “Your Majesty, I serve at the Capital Prefecture, responsible for the city’s public order. This demands that I be familiar with every part of the city, as well as the internal layout of every shop and establishment.”

The emperor listened, giving Song Wen a measured and approving look.

She caught the undertone in his words: this was so he could swiftly respond to emergencies—a basic skill for any official charged with the city’s safety.

Song Wen left it unsaid, not wishing to boast of his merits.

“You are truly modest and discreet,” the emperor could not help but praise.

She didn’t bother to ask whether Wu Desen had ever done such painstaking and tedious groundwork. It was obvious he hadn’t.

Just then, the officials who had left returned to the court, each accompanied by a single guard who had been searched for weapons.

Song Wen sought the emperor’s permission to have these guards come nearer to the desk.

The emperor, understanding Song Wen’s intent—to guard against any possible ill intentions among the guards—smiled with great confidence and gave her consent.

Song Wen bowed in admiration.

Then he called the guards closer and questioned each in turn: “Please point out on the map where your master was seated last night, and show the route by which you escaped from the brokerage house.”

The guards, having been briefed beforehand, stepped forward as instructed.

Their masters were all prominent figures, so none had to share a table with anyone else.

As each pointed out their master’s seat, Song Wen wrote their names on the small round tables or at the doors of the private rooms on the map, then marked their escape routes with dotted lines.

Zhang Maoqing, too, indicated his own seat and that of Wu Yanyi.

Once everyone had marked their positions, Wu Ming finally stepped forward and pointed out his own.

When all was done and everyone had stepped back, Song Wen gestured to the faint dotted lines on the map and said, “Your Majesty, please observe.

At the outbreak of the fire, those on the second floor all leapt from the windows—there was no fighting for the exit.

In the main hall, those near the doors and windows also escaped without collision.

Only the guests at these few small round tables were blocked, unable to leave conveniently, as they were too close to the stage and hemmed in by the high platform.

Had they gone to the rear courtyard, this would not have happened; but the fire started there, and in the chaos, they could only squeeze out with the crowd.

Is it clear to all? Behind Wu Yanyi sat only Minister Wu Ming of the Personnel Ministry.”

The old emperor: “……”

The officials: “……”

Wu Desen’s aged heart could no longer bear it—his legs gave way and he collapsed to the ground.

Wu Ming himself was dumbfounded.

He thought, then tried to recall carefully.

When memory returned, he pointed accusingly at Lai Wangcai, exclaiming in haste, “Lord Lai, it was you who arranged my guards last night!”

Realizing his own rashness, Wu Ming hurried to explain, “Your Majesty, after leaving the office last night, I met Lord Lai.

We exchanged greetings, and seeing I was alone, Lord Lai assigned me two men from the Tribunal for protection.

I was about to return home, but then… then I saw my father, the Prefect, enter the brokerage house, so I decided to join the excitement.

When the fire broke out, the hall was full of smoke—nothing could be seen. I was shielded by my guards toward the right window.

I smelled blood, and some even splattered on my face, but I paid no heed, intent only on escaping.

After getting out, in a wretched state, I saw my father was safe, so I quickly went home to wash up.

The water ran black, and I forgot all about the blood.

As for the soiled clothes, I… I had the servants throw them away while I bathed…”

As he spoke, Wu Ming—ever impulsive—realized he had said too much.

And the consequence of saying too much was suspicion of destroying evidence.

Sweat broke out on his forehead as he understood this.

Lai Wangcai, too, broke into a cold sweat.

As soon as Wu Ming finished, Lai Wangcai hurried to explain to the emperor, “Your Majesty, I did assign Minister Ming two men, but I swear, I did not order anyone to kill Wu Yanyi!”

The old emperor’s face was dark as still water, but she said nothing.

Song Wen then said, “Since Lord Lai is unsure of his subordinates’ actions, then please summon those two here to testify their innocence.”

This rendered Lai Wangcai speechless.

He opened his mouth, then again, then with a thud, he knelt before the emperor.

He kowtowed and cried, “Your Majesty… after the two men escorted Minister Ming home, they returned to the Tribunal and reported the fire to me… I—out of frustration at their failure to protect him properly—I… I had both of them… beaten to death.”

The old emperor: “……”

The officials: “……”

Murdering witnesses—could there be a clearer case?

Some officials now settled in to watch the spectacle.

Others felt a chill snake down their spines.

Lai Wangcai’s violence had always been directed at the descendants of the Li Tang house, or those connected to it.

But now, suddenly, he had turned on the Wu family.

The officials exchanged subtle glances with the emperor.

The old emperor’s gaze on Lai Wangcai was inscrutable.

At that moment, a piercing, grief-stricken scream shattered the silence of the Golden Throne Hall: “Give me back my son’s life!”