TSLSILMH Ch 30

Chapter 30

Yu Wanchun had long prepared a bellyful of words.

During these days in prison, he had not been idle. Now, with nothing left, he could only stake everything on a single throw of the dice. Whether it would amount to anything or not, he tried every possible means to open channels, to gather information. But being blocked by his “good” nephew from behind, he found everyone demanding outrageous sums. In a flicker of time, the silver he had hoarded over the years was spent in large part, vanishing like stones thrown into the sea, leaving no sign of response.

Yet Yu Wanchun gained at least some hints. He understood that the most crucial factor in his case lay within the evidence itself. As long as he could expose certain flaws, and support himself with testimony to turn matters in his favor, there was still hope of a retrial.

He also knew that the Prefect, Wan Linming, who held the final judgment, had a reputation for fairness and for understanding the plight of the people. This, Yu Wanchun reckoned, gave him an even greater chance of prevailing.

Thus Yu Wanchun began his performance, skilled in lament and rhetoric alike, as though he indeed bore unspeakable grievances weighing upon his chest.

Yet as Wan Linming listened to his hoarse cries, he did not so much as twitch a muscle.

For within the Court Hall, what defendant did not cry injustice? But the number of people among them who carried a real grievance was very few.

With a sharp crack upon the wooden block of authority, Wan Linming rebuked coldly: “Defendant Yu Wanchun, you cry injustice—where does this injustice lie?”

Yu Wanchun, stumbling over himself to reply, said: “Please see with clarity, my lord, this commoner truly has been wronged… That day’s events were nothing as just described! First, the so-called evidence, the red agate—indeed, this commoner obtained it in a gambling house. Yet Xie Shu, twisting black and white, colluded with that Wei Qingtong to deny it altogether! If you, my lord, were to inquire of the gamblers or of Old Wei himself, you would know the truth.”

But at this, Wan Linming’s face darkened: “Defendant Yu Wanchun, had you not already colluded with men from the gambling house in the past? And as for Old Wei—he was found dead in the gambling hall the very next day. How can you now present him as a witness?”

“Dead in the gambling hall?”

Yu Wanchun never imagined this. Could it be, Old Wei had died?

Realization dawning, he grew flushed and sputtered: “My lord, surely this is foul play—it must be the doing of my nephew, Yu Chuxi!”

But who would heed such a claim? Even an appeal must adhere to reason. And from the start, Yu Wanchun’s dealings with the gambling den were beyond question.

Thus Wan Linming, face still impassive, barked: “Insolence! Defendants may not howl in court. You say this—what evidence have you to prove it?”

Of course, Yu Wanchun had none. Gazing on every side at the wardens’ heavy rods, he could only press on in desperation: “My lord, I swear I have been wronged! It must be traced back to a month ago when Xie Shu fell into the water—yes, that was when I discovered Xie Shu and Wei Qingtong carried an illicit affection! After that, Xie Shu’s temperament changed utterly; he began fawning over my nephew—clearly conspiring with Wei Qingtong to steal the Yu family industries. I could not bear to see my nephew deceived, so I had no choice but to expose them! If Wei Qingtong and Xie Shu had no private affair, how could…”

On and on Yu Wanchun rambled, spinning one claim after another. But in Wan Linming’s ears it was stinking nonsense. A man so desperate to overturn his confession would stop at nothing. As for Xie Shu’s character—was Wan Linming not already familiar?

Another pound upon the court’s wooden block, his voice cooled with anger: “Your confession here, written with ink still fresh—do you claim that too was false?”

The crash of the block shook Yu Wanchun to the core. His frame trembled, sweat streaming from forehead and back alike. He knew then—his fate was sealed.

Still he could not fathom—at what point had his scheme unraveled? Why was Wan Linming so utterly impatient with him?

Before he even managed to speak again, Wan Linming, lifting the vermilion brush from its silver rack, made a stroke over the character for exile.

At the proclamation, Yu Wanchun’s face went chalk-white. His neck craned, his voice shrieking hoarse: “Injustice! My lord, I confessed under torture…”

Before the words were finished, Wan Linming’s gaze iced over: “Take him away!”

The sentence of three years’ exile swiftly spread. Three years, on paper, seemed but brief—yet for an exile, it was a torment without end.

For though the Great Qing realm was vast, the populated lands lay chiefly within the central plains. Exile meant banishment to the remotest frontiers: the miasmic swamps of the south, or the bitter cold of the north. A verse ran: “Go a myriad li, and of a thousand none return.” Such were the sufferings of exile.

At Yu Wanchun’s age, who knew whether he would survive long enough to come back?

Thus whispers arose among the people, saying the Yu clan’s struggle for power had become too cruel—uncle and nephew driven to murder one another.

Some then recalled the many good deeds Yu Wanchun had once done. If he were truly a man devoid of virtue, could he have worn the mask for so many years?

By contrast, it seemed the current young master of the Yu family, heir apparent, was the truly ruthless one.

Though such rumors were not allowed to cross Yu family walls, they still spread, and left a mark.

But soon came the day Yu Wanchun was to depart. At the gates of Jinling, both guards and common folk readying for travel beheld a shocking sight: cart after cart of clothing and money chests, with servants accompanying him.

This remained just within the law—for an exile could indeed bring such provisions.

Yet of all who suffered banishment, how many could boast such fortune?

As to who had arranged this for Yu Wanchun, there could be no doubt. Who else but Yu Chuxi?

That evening while playing chess, Xie Shu saw that Yu Chuxi placed his stones distractedly, troubled in spirit. Xie Shu sighed inwardly.

After a moment’s thought, he set his own piece down and asked gently, “Young Lord, is this matter of Second Uncle still on your mind?”

Yu Chuxi had not expected the question. He had intended to deny it, but the concern in Xie Shu’s gaze, warm like the bright spring sun, lightened his mood.

Suddenly, he felt an impulse to confide something.

Supporting his head with one hand, his glossy dark hair slipping past his pale wrist, Yu Chuxi recalled for a long while, then blinked and said softly: “Xie Shu, when I was small, my Second Uncle was actually good to me.”

Xie Shu watched him quietly, his face displaying a touch of well-timed curiosity, knowing his beloved needed only someone to listen.

Yu Chuxi gave a rueful laugh: “Does that sound strange to you? But it’s true. When I was five, my mother died. At that time, my father was still trading in the far north, he didn’t even return for the funeral. Sudden loss of my mother left me frightened and sorrowful. My Second Uncle had free time, so he often bought me little toys, talked with me.”

Looking back now, it seemed far away. Childhood memories remained indistinct, but when recalled, strikingly contrasted with the present, they carried a certain poignancy.

And then he smiled faintly: “But later, all of that changed quickly.”

He could not remember exactly when his Second Uncle changed. Perhaps three years ago when Yu Chuxi declared to his father his resolve to learn commerce. Perhaps earlier, when Yu Wanchun, seeing his elder brother bereft of sons, grew ever more ambitious.

The years of open and hidden strife between uncle and nephew had burned away the last embers of affection. Yet now, for no reason, Yu Chuxi found himself recollecting the past, confessing it aloud before Xie Shu.

Returning to himself, he felt absurd, as though feigning innocence.

It was he, after all, who had pushed Yu Wanchun step by step to this doomed juncture. He did not regret it. What then was the point of speaking?

Indeed, the lavish supplies he had provided for his uncle’s exile had been not from guilt, but merely to comfort his father’s heart and to mollify public opinion. For an uncle and nephew to battle to such extremity was a shameful thing.

Growing restless at his own words, Yu Chuxi cut himself short and forced a change of subject: “Enough. Just today I spoke with Father—we are to set out tomorrow for Qixia Monastery. It lies in the hills outside the city, and the journey will take three days round. Are you free to come?”

Beside him came a voice as soft as drifting clouds: “I once promised to go with the Young Lord—naturally, I will. And really, Young Lord, you mustn’t dwell too much on this. None of it was your fault. The kindness your Second Uncle once offered came when it cost him nothing. When his attitude turned, it was because in his eyes, profit outweighed you as a person. Thus you need not take blame. What came after was his own doing. That you still think of him shows only that you are truly a man of compassion…”

Yu Chuxi had never imagined Xie Shu would say such words.

At that, he even turned his eyes away. For though the outsiders called him ruthless, this man praised him as a kind soul!

He had long grown accustomed to hearing pleasant words from Xie Shu’s lips, but never had he heard anything like this—words so far removed from reality, yet spoken with such earnest weight. Left him unable to answer.

And yet, curiously, all the heaviness, the tangled shadows in his heart seemed to have vanished into nothing.

Yu Chuxi released his cheek from his hand, turning his half-face toward Xie Shu. “Enough, do not say such things…”

Xie Shu could not help a soft laugh, hiding it with a cough. His Young Lord—was he flustered, perhaps even shy?

 

Footnotes

 

1. “Drum of Appeals” (堂鼓) – Located at the entrance of government offices, this drum was provided for commoners to strike when they sought to file petitions or cry injustice before an official. 
2. Qixia Monastery (栖霞寺) – A famous Buddhist temple near Nanjing, located in the Qixia Mountains. Since ancient times, it served as a renowned center for Buddhist practice and as a site of pilgrimage.