WSMTATMC C42

Chapter 42

Meanwhile, in the Zhang family courtyard, pitiful wails rose from within every so often.

The previous night, Zhang Shiqiu had returned home with his leg broken—by whose hand, no one knew. Pain had taken him, and he fainted at his own doorway. He lay there two entire hours in the snow before a neighbor happened by, banged at the door, and dragged him inside.

His limbs had frozen stiff, the wounded leg turned dark with frost and bruising. When the physician was called, his verdict was grim: “It must be amputated.”

At once Zhang Shiqiu went mad, cursing the doctor: “Quack! If you cut my leg, how shall I sit for the examinations? Better you kill me outright!”

The physician, insulted, threw his sleeves and left. His parents wept helpless.

Zhang Father sobbed: “So well yesterday—who could be so vicious as to break my son’s leg?”

“It was him—it must be his doing!” Zhang Shiqiu hurled himself upright, nearly tumbling to the floor.

“Lie down! If you move, your leg will be ruined beyond any hope!”

But he screamed, “It was Chen Qingyan! He wants me crippled so I cannot sit for the Imperial Exams. He envies me!”

Zhang Mother stared. “Who is this Chen Qingyan? Why on earth would he break your leg?”

“He envies me because I passed as xiucai. He cheated and was caught—barred for life. So now he schemes to ruin me as well. Father, go! Report it to the magistrate at once!”

“Ah! Yes—I’ll go this instant. Stay still!”

So Zhang Father rushed to the yamen. By chance he encountered Huang San with several constables about to make their patrol.

“Officers, please! Please save my son!”

“Old sir, rise. What has happened?”

But the old man stammered too much sense, only repeating his son’s leg was broken, so Huang San followed him back.

Inside, Zhang Shiqiu clutched at the constables, weeping: “Help me, please grant me justice!”

“Tell slowly—what exactly occurred?”

So he spun his tale, heavily embroidered: “I am a licentiate of learning, due for the provincial exam next year. But he—he sent men to break my leg! Ruined my career! Why not just kill me outright!”

His parents acted their roles well, tears flowing. Huang San heard, yet his heart tilted toward the Chen family. He had dealt with Wang Ying before—that spouse was frank and generous. The hand that fed, the heart inclined.

“You say Chen struck at you. But have you proof?”

“Last night was dark—I could not see the faces. But I swear, who else but him!”

“Without witness or proof, this is only slander.”

“I have no other enemies. Only he would do such!”

“Then tell the cause of your enmity.”

So Zhang repeated his refrain: Chen envied him, accused him of cheating notes, struck him, and they quarreled.

When at last he ceased, Huang San said flatly: “This is only your word. I must hear from Chen himself before judgment.”

Leaving the Zhangs, Huang San went straight to the Chen home.

At that time, Wang Ying was teaching Madam Li, Aunt Chen, and the children how to play Leaf Cards—a game of his own making, like a simplified mahjong, remembered from childhood with his grandmother.

Suddenly the porter came: “Officers at the gate—asking for Master.”

A chill seized Wang Ying, but he rose with composure. “I’ll see them first.”

Madam Li and Aunt meant to accompany, but he stopped them: “The cold wind bites. Stay indoors—we’ll handle this.”

“Very well.”

In the front hall, he greeted warmly: “Master Huang—New Year greetings.”

“And to you, Shopkeeper Wang.” Huang bowed politely.

Before long Qingyan entered, and they exchanged courtesies.

“What brings you today?”

Huang said gravely: “One reports you and yours broke another’s leg. I came to know if it be true.”

Qingyan stiffened. “Who… says this?”

“A licentiate, surname Zhang.”

“Zhang Shiqiu?!”

Huang nodded. “Indeed. And last night, his leg was broken.”

Qingyan shot a startled glance to Wang Ying, then quickly objected: “Not by us! Yes, he and I disputed—he trapped me first in malice. If I wished revenge, would I not have taken it long ago, upon return from the exam? Why would I wait until now?”

“I myself doubt his story. Yet his rank as licentiate makes me obliged to investigate, hence this visit.”

Wang Ying added calmly: “Only two menservants remain in house—Linzi and Chen Bo. You know them, old men both. Whose strength to break a man’s leg?”

Huang inclined his head. “It indeed seems unlikely. I’ll question further elsewhere.”

They bid him farewell, sending him away with modest gifts of tea cakes.

Once alone, Qingyan seized Wang Ying’s hand, pulling him swiftly to the rear. Shutting the door, he bolted it. His eyes were fierce. “Ah Ying—was it you?”

“What are you saying?”

“Don’t lie to me. Was it you?”

Wang Ying lowered his lashes. “…Yes. I couldn’t endure seeing him trample you so.”

“How could you act without telling me! Such recklessness—”

“Time and again he wronged you. Must we forever ‘repay evil with kindness’? No—for evil you return justice with justice. Repay virtue with virtue.”

Qingyan clutched his hand. “I do not scold you—only I fear. If discovered, you’ll face punishment!”

Joy rose warm in Wang’s chest. He laughed, leaned in and kissed him. So, his only fear was for him. The risk had not been vain.

“Rest easy. He cannot prove it. For all he’s done, to break one leg is mercy.”

“Promise me—never again such acts.”

“…Yes.” In truth, Wang Ying too was unsettled. Only the extremity of what Zhang did forced his hand.

Qingyan sighed. When first he heard that leg broken, darker joy had fluttered in him. But what was left only sorrow—the crash of friendship lost, turned enemy.

Huang San, after hearing both sides, returned to the Zhangs. He reported: “There is no evidence Chen was guilty.”

In truth, ancient trials lacked detective arts of drama. Without proof or witness, most cases died to silence—so too this became a hanging case.

“No—impossible! It must be them!” Zhang Shiqiu shrieked. He dragged himself off the bed, clutching Huang San’s leg. “Sir, I beg—check again! Grant me justice!”

Huang San kicked him away. “If you bring proof, I’ll bring justice. Without, how shall I? A word of advice: do not cross the Chens further. Chen Qingyan’s uncle is prefect of Laizhou. Provoke him, and it will be your doom.”

“So what—a prefect uncle? Does office let him butcher human life?” Zhang raged.

But Huang only waved. “Then beat the grievance drum at county yamen. Here we cannot aid you.”

When they left, Zhang collapsed sobbing. His mother bent to lift him, but he shoved her hard.

“Get away!”

She snapped back, “Mad! If you want to crawl on the ground, stay there. I care not!” Already frazzled—New Year ruined by calamity, fearing her son’s leg could not be saved, and then all the gifts they took would be demanded back.

Zhang clenched his fists, eyes burning with hatred. He knew his parents were useless. Only one help remained—Lu Chang’an.

“Mother, go to the Lu household!”

“Why?”

“Because he is my sworn brother—he will aid me!”

Half-doubtful, she went. To her surprise, Young Master Lu truly came, bringing even a doctor from a better practice.

At the sight of Shiqiu, Lu’s eyes brimmed. “One day apart, and you become so?!”

Shiqiu wept piteously, shaking his head as if terrified to speak.

Lu swore aloud, “It was the Chens? Outrageous! Too far!”

“Brother Lu, restrain yourself. Chen Qingyan’s uncle is prefect of Laizhou. To clash with him would ruin us.”

“We’ll not speak of that. First let the doctor see.”

The doctor examined closely. “The bones can be set. But grievous—delayed so long. Even if healed, he will limp evermore.”

The truth pierced like blades. In Wu dynasty law, cripples were forbidden from the Imperial Exams. This meant that never again could he dream of official life.

Still Shiqiu struggled. “Doctor—see again! I am a licentiate—I must test as juren!”

“Too heavy the injury. No immortal’s hand could restore it.”

Lu pressed his hand. “Brother, think not of future now. Heal first. Let me fight for your justice.”

The setting of the leg was torture—Shiqiu bit through a bamboo stick. In his heart, only hatred: to cut Qingyan into a thousand scraps. Never once did he reflect on what seed he himself had sown.

Back home, Lu Chang’an at once ordered retinue to prepare. He himself would march to the county office, demanding justice with grievance drum.

Lu Father, hearing of this, summoned him sternly. “What madness, at year’s end?”

“Father! The Chen eldest is villainous—broke my sworn brother’s leg for slight dispute. I must bring justice!”

“You shall not!”

“Father!”

“I care not your camaraderie. But to feud with the Chen family? Never! I’ve known Chen Household head for thirty years—not close, but enough to know their truth. His wife and sons aren’t villains—they would not do such.”

“You do not know the full matter!” he cried, recounting Shiqiu’s tale.

“Then all the more! You hear only one voice—what if he lied?”

“Shiqiu would never deceive me!”

Lu Father snorted, “I’ve seen many a poor man devise crooked plots. To aid him in mending leg—that was kindness enough. Hereafter, have no more with him.”

“…Yes.” Lu agreed meekly. But in secret, he began spreading talk of Qingyan’s “cruel deeds,” vowing to avenge Shiqiu nonetheless.

notes

 

• Grievance Drum (鸣冤鼓): In imperial China, one could strike a drum at the court gates to demand hearing of injustice.