WSMTATMC C140

Chapter 140

Liu Changyi came straight from the yamen to the Chen household.

Wang Ying, seeing him arrive, quickly called Qinghuai, Qingsong, and Lin Sui to go out and discuss the matter together.

In a private room at a teahouse, Wang Ying’s face was grave and shadowed with fatigue. He had not slept a wink last night, only slipping into the experimental field for a turn, leaving a note for Chen Qingyan—so that, if he entered, he would see it.

“Any news of Qingyan?”

Liu nodded. “I’ve just come from the yamen. Elder Brother is held alone in a single cell. It’s quite clean inside, and there’s no need to worry about food. Father specifically told them to look after him—they wouldn’t dare slack.”

“That’s good…” Wang Ying had never gone through such a thing in either life. Last night, thoughts ran wild, dragging in those ancient dramas—wronged men in prison, tortured with finger-press boards and the like—until his heart thudded in fear. Hearing this, he finally relaxed a little.

Lin Sui asked, “When can Cousin be released?”

“That must wait until the coroner finishes the autopsy. If it is truly poisoning, they’ll have to determine what poison, and whether it came from the popsicle. Only when it’s confirmed the popsicle had nothing to do with it can he be released.”

Wang Ying’s face darkened again. In an age without advanced techniques, investigations could take six or seven days at the shortest, longer by far at the longest. If Qingyan were kept inside all that time, what about schooling?

“I know who’s behind this,” he said, “but there’s no evidence yet.”

The others all turned to Wang Ying.

“The ice dealer in the city—Wei Linshui.”

“How did Sister-in-law figure it out?” asked Qinghuai.

Wang Ying explained how he had noticed it was the same group stirring up trouble, then sent men to shadow them quietly.

“Tian Ju and Ma Zhandong heard it with their own ears—the man said he was ordered by Wei Linshui to cause trouble. When they saw our shop unaffected, they came up with this filthy trick!”

That set them all aflame. “Is this true?!”

“True as steel. The man being shadowed is named Wan Liang, lodging off Zhenghe Street. If we can seize him, we should be able to extract a confession.”

“I’ll go tell Father the full account,” said Liu. “It’s a serious matter.”

—

Three days later, the autopsy results were out—it was indeed death by poisoning. There was a good deal of undigested food in the stomach; rats that ate the remains died soon after.

But with no instruments in this era, and a popsicle melting once swallowed, it was impossible to determine what caused the poisoning.

The deceased was named Yan Er, twenty-four, with no family—only one relative, the elder brother Yan Da who mourned that day.

Called to the yamen, Yan Da trembled inwardly.

A clerk asked the time and course of his brother’s poisoning, and which physician had been summoned.

Yan Da answered one by one, insisting that the stomach pain began only after the popsicle.

The clerk glanced up as he wrote. In fact, these past days the constables had canvassed the neighborhood. Yan Da got on poorly with his brother. The younger was simple—wit stunted to that of a four- or five-year-old—soiling himself even at this age.

Their father had tended the younger while he lived. Though the boy was foolish, his clothes were always clean, his hair combed neat.

After the old man died, Yan Er—kept by Yan Da—often went hungry. His trousers were fouled with urine and feces, foul-smelling enough to send passersby skirting away.

The coroner also found sores and rashes on the legs and buttocks—long-term damp trousers had done it. Though the body had been washed, it was clear his life was no good.

The clerk did not believe for a moment that the elder would “buy a popsicle” for the younger.

But pressure from the Assistant Prefect urged a quick close. The clerks dared say little more and wrote in the record: “Poisoning from eating a popsicle.”

—

Leaving the yamen, Yan Da hurried to the Wei household.

Within the Wei compound, Wei Linshui, in a light gauze robe, lounged on a luohan bed leafing through account books.

The heat had brought brisk trade at the ice store. The old Master Song had died, and he had ordered hundreds of blocks to chill the body. In a few days, Wei had pocketed over a hundred taels.

Counting the money, Wei mused: fortune lies in the rich—if only a few more died this summer.

Hurried footsteps sounded outside. A boy came to report, “Master, a man named Yan Da seeks you on business.”

“What’s he come for?” Wei frowned. “Have him wait in the side hall.”

“Yes.”

Unhurried, rolling walnut beads fast through his fingers, Wei entered the side hall not long after. “Brother Yan.”

Yan Da sprang up. “Boss Wei…”

“Sit. What brings you?”

“Wasn’t it settled? Why did the yamen summon me to speak?”

“You told it as I instructed?”

Yan Da nodded vigorously. “Yes—poisoned to death.”

“Good. I’ve smoothed things. Someone will bring you two strings shortly.”

“Good—good, good.” Yan Da brightened at the word of money. Wei had given him ten taels for the scene already—more to come after. If this came once a month…

Wei read his thoughts and snorted softly. “My money isn’t easy to earn. Take it, and do the job right. Otherwise… I have other ways.”

Cold sweat broke over Yan Da’s back. He abandoned his little schemes at once. “Boss Wei, be assured—this small one won’t breathe a word!”

Leaving Wei’s, Yan Da wiped his brow. This “Water Rat” earned the name—vile and vicious. With this money in hand, he’d better avoid dealings with the man hereafter.

—

Ordinarily, the case would have been closed at this point.

It was not the first time Wei had done such a thing, and past attempts had succeeded—he thought this one would fell the Chens as easily.

Unfortunately, he had provoked Chen Qingyan. Leaving aside Wang Ying’s and Liang Boqing’s ties, Chen himself had taken first both at the prefectural and academy exams. The court valued such talent; they would not close a case lightly.

With Master Liu beating the drum as well, things soon turned.

The clerks seized Wan Liang at a gambling den. Without resorting to severe punishment—only a few frights—Wan confessed everything. He’d been paid to do a job—hardly the worst of crimes—at most a few strokes. He would not shield anyone.

He not only named Wei as the man who paid him to stir trouble, but also the matter of hiring Yan Da to frame Mi Xue.

The prefectural yamen immediately sent men to seize Yan Da.

Wei did not yet know he’d been exposed. That night he personally carried a basket of silver to visit the Assistant Prefect of Jizhou. He knocked for ages with no answer; at last a porter poked out his head. “Master has retired. Come tomorrow.”

Wei grinned. “I’ve brought some local specialties for His Honor.”

“Master takes nothing. Go home!” The door slammed shut.

Wei, rebuffed, sensed something amiss. The Assistant Prefect was usually a man whose eyes lit at coin, a man who “chewed meat and left no bone”—how was he suddenly so clean?

Anxiety stirred. He rubbed his temples, forced down the unease, climbed into his palanquin, and hurried home.

Before dawn the next morning, the Wei gates thundered. A squad of clerks stood outside.

“Is this the residence of Wei Linshui?”

The boy, startled, ran to report. Wei woke in a fright; before he could dress, he was escorted to the yamen.

All the way, he spoke softly, seeking any hint of wind. The bailiffs said not a word; his heart went cold.

At the yamen, the sight of Wan Liang and Yan Da kneeling broke the last of his hope. His legs gave, and he fell to his knees.

Before long, the Prefect, Assistant Prefect, and clerk entered to hear the case.

Wei looked toward Assistant Prefect Zhao. He had sent the man no small sums over the years, and more than once, Zhao had “helped.” He thought it might be so again.

But Zhao did not glance his way. From start to finish, he kept his head down or turned aside.

Soon, Chen Qingyan was brought in as well. Being a licentiate, he did not kneel, but bowed with clasped hands to the court.

“Is the man below Wei Linshui?”

“This small one is he.”

“You are accused of deliberately framing others. What say you?”

“This small one… is not…”

“Wan Liang—repeat yesterday’s account, from start to finish.”

Wan Liang, trembling, repeated what he had said—including Wei’s instruction to have Yan Da slander Mi Xue.

“We ask you,” the Prefect said, “why did you tell Wan to stir trouble at their door?”

“This small one… merely envied their business. I did nothing else but that!”

Yan Da also knocked his head and cried injustice. “My brother truly did die of a bamboo-tube popsicle from their shop!”

“We call Wang Ying to the hall.”

Wang Ying was brought up and at once saw Qingyan by the side. A few days in holding had not left him haggard—his robe clean, his hair neat—and Wang’s heart eased.

“This commoner Wang Ying greets Your Honors.”

“Wang Ying, you accuse Wei Linshui of hiring men to frame you with a poisoning. Have you evidence?”

“This commoner has.” Wang turned his head. “You say, over and over, that you bought a bamboo-tube popsicle at our shop on the ninth of the fifth month to give your brother. Can you produce that tube?”

Yan Da blinked, then shook his head. “You throw that out after eating—who keeps a bamboo tube?”

Wang had expected it. “Then tell us—where did you buy it?”

“At your shop, of course!”

“Can you be certain? Not bought outside? Or from someone else?”

Yan bit down, “At your shop. I queued a long time!”

“On the ninth of may,” Wang said, “our shop happened to be closed. The neighboring shopkeepers can all testify. I ask Your Honors to investigate.”

Yan continued to wriggle. “Then I misremembered. It was—it was the eighth!”

“Can a popsicle last a night without melting?”

He sputtered—and rolled his eyes and fainted. Two bailiffs sloshed him with cold water, and he came round.

The Prefect slapped the bench. “Yan Da—confess!”

Shaking, Yan cried out, “I confess! It was on Boss Wei’s orders that I poisoned my brother, then had his body carried to Mi Xue’s door to frame them…”

At that, Wei burst. “He lies! It was he himself who thought his brother a burden and drugged him!”