Chapter Fifty-Nine: As Expected, a Den of Ghosts

Chapter Fifty-Nine: As Expected, a Den of Ghosts!

Human beings are the least able to withstand scrutiny in this world, and also the least able to endure investigation. If you both scrutinize and investigate someone, the likelihood of becoming friends with them is almost zero.

Old Dog’s investigation was swift and effective. Upon receiving the list from Old Dog, Tie Xinyuan immediately spotted the most suspicious person, and as he leafed through the rest, discovered three other intriguing individuals.

All four belonged to the Wang family—two of his mother’s cousins, one direct brother, and one cousin. Large families truly are fascinating; to achieve their own ends, even siblings can be used as tools. Once their purpose is met, who cares about the fate of their brothers and sisters?

Tie Xinyuan asked Old Dog for another list, clarified the tangled relationships, and decided to hide the matter from his mother. The Wang family was aware of him and his mother, yet none had come to pay their respects; outwardly, the entire Wang family seemed to have forgotten his mother’s existence. Tie Xinyuan could not grasp why, when it was clear he and his mother had no intention of returning to the Wang family, those people still acted this way—sending not one, but four at once!

Tie Xinyuan did not wish to ask his mother why others targeted her so, nor why everyone wanted to use her as a stepping stone for their ambitions.

No matter what secrets lay beneath, no matter if his mother stood for justice or not, Tie Xinyuan believed that he should always be on his mother’s side.

If his mother played the role of the good, then he should be her protector; if she played the villain, so be it—he would be the first henchman beneath her banner.

Positions are not about good or evil, but about closeness and kinship.

Recently, Judge Bao did something that exemplified loyalty to public duty over family. His nephew Bao Mian broke the law, and the old man, without mercy, locked him in a heavy wooden stock and made him kneel before the Kaifeng Prefecture to beg forgiveness from the world.

Bao Mian’s crime was not grave; while riding outside the city, he trampled a farmer’s pig. To be shackled with a thirty-pound stock and forced to kneel at the government gate was excessive.

Thus, the kin of upright officials live hard lives; such men disregard all personal bonds, their minds filled only with the grand code of earthly law, much like the judge of the underworld listening to souls.

Corrupt ministers, however, handle such matters more humanely. Hou Yuanyi, Vice Minister of the Court of Judicial Review, had a son who stabbed a wastrel from a humble family, leaving his guts exposed.

Had this happened under Judge Bao, the wastrel’s death would have meant no hope for Hou Yuanyi’s son.

To save his son, Hou Yuanyi summoned imperial physicians from the palace to stabilize the victim’s wounds. Then, within a day, he submitted three memorials, confessing his failure to discipline his son and requesting a post in Tanzhou as punishment.

When the Emperor learned of this, he ignored the censors’ snowstorm of petitions. With a stroke of red ink, Hou Yuanyi quietly left the capital with his son—by evening, they had reached the Fengqiu border.

A civil official fleeing faster than the army—this speaks volumes about Hou Yuanyi’s love for his son.

There was a flaw, though: the wastrel did not survive, succumbing to fever three days later.

“Bao Mian deserved this lesson long ago. He knew his uncle was strict, yet still spent his days in the company of wastrels. This incident was not an accident—their group intentionally charged at the pigs and killed six, all half-grown, but still half a year’s effort for the farmer.”

Yang Huaiyu, fresh from sword practice and sweating profusely, sat before Tie Xinyuan, wiping himself down and joining their debate on who was the good man.

Tie Xinyuan smiled, recalling something, and asked, “If you served under your father in the army and broke a military rule, and he bound you and ordered your execution, what would you feel?”

Yang Huaiyu took a kettle from Water Bead and drank deeply, then wiped his mouth, saying, “I wouldn’t serve under my father. That’s our family’s tradition—I might serve under Uncle Huyan or Uncle Luo, but never my father. It’s a tradition among military families.”

“Yes, it’s unsightly for a father to grant his own son promotions. Everyone trades favors—you help my son, I help yours, and both sides benefit.”

Yang Huaiyu nodded, “That’s part of it. But more importantly, our Song military law forbids father and son holding key posts in the same army. Besides, in major battles, sons lead the charge. If a son dies for the country, it strikes the father deeply, affecting the whole army. It’s not as sly as you say.”

“I heard Old Dog helped you figure things out? What’s your plan? Xiao Qiao says you’re preparing for a big move. But let’s be clear, don’t involve me in killing anyone—I’m about to take the martial civil exams and can’t afford any blemishes.”

Tie Xinyuan laughed, “I don’t plan to kill anyone, just to make them behave for a while. This time, I’ll let them off because they’re family. Next time, it won’t be so easy. My mother might remember old ties, but with me, that rarely works.”

Yang Huaiyu breathed a sigh of relief. He worried Tie Xinyuan would ask for his help, which would make things awkward. As long as no killing was involved, it was fine; though the eldest of the Yangs was now a “wastrel,” he could still beat a few people up…

With a plan and unprepared targets, harming someone isn’t hard—sometimes, it’s as simple as a handful of beans…

Sun Sheep Proper, beside Qingping Gate, is a renowned spot in the capital. Its ornamental archway is over thirty feet tall, adorned with silk flowers on its front and golden chrysanthemums on its flanks, replaced daily without fail.

What draws crowds is not just the archway, but the genuine Liao tribute wine—Pear Blossom White!

This wine is intimately connected to the Liao court’s famed consort, Xiao Chuo. Legend says that after the wood pagoda was completed in Yingzhou, she prayed at the site.

She found the water from Golden Phoenix Well beside the pagoda clear and sweet, and declared it Dragon Spring Sacred Water to demonstrate Buddhist mystery.

A clever flatterer immediately used this water in brewing, whether by luck or skill, and so the famed Pear Blossom Spring White was born.

Wang Huaili, third son of the Wang family, cheerfully exited the top floor of Sun Sheep Proper. His family was strict—if he failed to return by the first quarter of the hour, he need not bother coming home, and could expect punishment from his elders the next day.

Wang Huaili had long coveted Pear Blossom Spring White. Tonight, he had the rare chance to sit atop the high tower, admire flowers, and savor the famous wine—an opportunity not to be missed.

Pear Blossom White lived up to its reputation—“famed across three thousand miles of the steppe, unrivaled in all of Shanxi for its spring flavor”—lingering on the palate long after the last sip.

His father was so rigid; despite being schoolmates with Prince Pu, he never fostered good ties. Otherwise, how could Wang Huaili still be a mere commoner?

His companions continued to revel; he left the party alone, unable even to converse with Prince Pu’s heir. The joy of wine turned swiftly into melancholy.

It was late; if he wanted to avoid tomorrow’s punishment, he needed to hurry home.

Xiao Qiao sat by the ornamental archway with a basket of walnuts. Many young girls sold skewered treats here, their necks craned for customers, but Xiao Qiao lounged idly, watching the swaying Wang Huaili approach.

A diligent waiter supported Wang Huaili, but his eyes betrayed undisguised contempt. Among tonight’s guests, Wang Huaili was the poorest—he didn’t reward Zhang Qisheng’s magic tricks, yet received the loudest applause. If not for fear of offending other customers, the waiter would rather not escort him; sixty-odd steps up and down for nothing, this miser wouldn’t tip a single coin.

Seeing the waiter helping Wang Huaili, Xiao Qiao took a coin from his pocket, flicked it to the waiter’s feet, and said, “Brother waiter, you dropped your money.”

The waiter was startled, quickly letting go of Wang Huaili and looking down. Sure enough, there was a copper coin at his feet. He picked it up, wiped it clean, and put it in his sleeve.

Before he could thank the young man for the reminder, Wang Huaili suddenly let out a yell and toppled from the high tower…

The waiter stood frozen at the top, watching Wang Huaili tumble down the steps like a rattan ball…

When screams echoed from below, he finally hopped downstairs to see if the young master was dead or alive.

While everyone leaned over to look, Xiao Qiao quickly retrieved the two walnuts he’d tossed earlier, wiped them, and returned them to his basket. Then, he joined the crowd, craning his neck to look below.

At home, Little Water returned to find Fox still sprawled on the bed waiting for him. He smiled, scribbled the number eleven on a scrap of paper, tucked it into Fox’s collar, opened the door to let Fox out, then undressed and went to bed, feeling content—a sensation he hadn’t enjoyed in a long time.

Tomorrow would bring a grand scene, and he did not want to miss it, so he forced himself to close his eyes and sleep.