Chapter 84: Visiting the Prison (First Chapter, Requesting Monthly Votes!)

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For over half a month, the sky had been clear and scorching, with the sun wilting the leaves and curling the ground. The city, filled with defeated soldiers and livestock, stank to high heaven. By evening, dark clouds finally gathered in the sky. Even before the clouds covered the entire sky, it was already pitch black on the ground. The bright and hot sunny day suddenly turned into a dark night. Soon, thunder rumbled and lightning flashed, followed by large raindrops pelting down, raising a flurry of dust.

The soldiers screamed and stripped off their clothes to dance in the streets, while the officials and laborers hurried to cover the grain and equipment stored outdoors with rain gear. But it was too late. Without any warning, countless waterfalls poured from the sky, and in a moment, the world turned into a bright, watery expanse.

The rain was fast and heavy, and within half an hour, the streets were flooded with rivers of water, carrying all sorts of garbage left by the soldiers. More soldiers were called to deal with the emergency. By the time all the rain covers were laid and the warehouses were stacked with sandbags, the rain had stopped. The people, drenched like drowned rats, collapsed, too exhausted even to curse the heavens.

However, this heavy rain brought relief from the heat, and the people of Hengyang finally enjoyed a long-awaited cool night.

The dark clouds quickly dispersed, revealing the last rays of light on the horizon. Normally, this would mean a bustling midsummer night with bright street lamps and a throng of people. But under the shadow of the military disaster, all the shops were closed. People who were caught outside by the rain hurried home, fearing the darkness and potential dangers.

In the hurried crowd, two men dressed in the uniforms of bailiffs stood out. The first was Wang Jingu, the old bailiff of Hengyang County. The second, a slender man who looked like he was always smiling, was Song Duanping. Chen Ke had originally intended to go, but Wang Jingu firmly dissuaded him. In this era, southerners were generally short, and Chen Ke's six-foot height made him stand out like a crane among chickens.

Song Duanping was also tall, but not as strikingly so. Therefore, it was decided that he would go.

The two walked side by side down the street. Wang Jingu sighed as he walked, "What was I thinking, getting involved in your reckless schemes?"

"Sanlang said it's called a sense of justice," Song Duanping chuckled. "I'm not even twenty and I'm not afraid. Why should you, a man in your fifties, be afraid?"

"Ha..." Wang Jingu laughed and scolded, "Is that how you comfort someone?" Then he turned serious, "Once we get inside, you don't say a word. I'll handle everything. Got it?"

"I'll be as tight-lipped as a clam."

The two arrived at the back gate of the criminal court. The criminal court, officially known as the Inspectorate of Criminal Affairs, was responsible for overseeing the criminal cases in the region and supervising officials. The Inspectorate of Criminal Affairs in the southern part of Jinghu was located in Hengyang City. Because it contained the prison, it was usually heavily guarded, and no one could approach without permission.

But there are always ways for snakes and rats to get through. Wang Jingu led Song Duanping into the court and straight to the prison.

At the entrance to the prison, a waterproof oil lantern hung, its light flickering. The head jailer, seeing Wang Jingu, grinned, "Haven't seen you in a while. What brings you here?"

"Ah," Wang Jingu sighed, "Today is our unfortunate magistrate's birthday. I'm representing the brothers to bring him a birthday feast."

"That's not appropriate," the jailer frowned. "The higher-ups have ordered no one to approach Magistrate Chen."

"I know, but I came while the officials were at home. I'm just bringing him a meal, nothing more," Wang Jingu leaned in and grabbed the jailer's hand, "Magistrate Chen hasn't been in Hengyang long, but he's done so much for our county. He could be executed at any time. This might be his last meal. Can you help us out?"

The jailer nodded, either moved by his words or the silver in his hand, and opened the prison door, "The last cell, go quickly and come back."

"Thank you." Wang Jingu turned to Song Duanping and scolded, "What are you standing there for? Say thank you."

"Who is this?"

"My nephew, just arrived from Guangdong. I'm letting him help me temporarily," Wang Jingu spat, "Those guys talk big, but when it comes to the real thing, they run faster than rabbits."

"Human nature, I guess," the jailer laughed, "I'll go in. Hurry up."

"Sure thing."

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Inside the dark and eerie prison, the two walked to the end and stopped at the last single cell. There was no light, and it was pitch black.

"Magistrate, Magistrate, it's me," Wang Jingu called out.

"Old Wang..." A familiar voice came from a cell at the end.

"There he is," Wang Jingu and Song Duanping recognized Chen Xiliang's voice. Hearing his strong voice, they were relieved—after all, he had been carried into the prison, and they were worried about his health.

"Magistrate, today is your birthday. We've come to celebrate," Wang Jingu lit a firestick as they approached the cell. Through the bars, they saw Chen Xiliang sitting inside.

Chen Xiliang squinted, adjusting to the light, and was about to tell Wang Jingu he had the date wrong, but instead, he saw Song Duanping and gasped in surprise.

Song Duanping quickly shook his head and made a writing gesture.

"Ah, I thought I'd have to spend this birthday alone," Chen Xiliang said, moving to the bars, "Let me see what you've brought." He took Song Duanping's left hand and quickly wrote, "Why are you here?"

"Not just me, Sanlang and Wulang are here too," Song Duanping wrote back with his right hand, "What happened?"

"Is the magistrate feeling better? We've been very worried," Wang Jingu slowly opened the food box and asked.

"The Grim Reaper didn't take me, I'm mostly better," Chen Xiliang answered Wang Jingu, but wrote to Song Duanping, "Someone is trying to harm me." He paused and continued, "The grain convoy was suspicious, all the officials are dead, which is suspicious. After I returned, I was accused of a flimsy crime and sentenced to death, even more suspicious!"

"Why?"

"Perhaps they discovered I was investigating them."

"Who are they? What were you investigating?"

"The transport commissioner of Hunan and Guangdong, and possibly higher-ups; I discovered their long-term embezzlement of military funds."

"..." Song Duanping was shocked, at a loss for words.

"I had the investigation records with me, ready to hand them over to Magistrate Yu Jing when he arrived," Chen Xiliang wrote, somewhat dejected, "When I was arrested, they were taken from me. Fortunately, I used phonetic writing, which they probably can't understand."

"What should we do now?"

"I'll write down the main points for you," Chen Xiliang sighed, "Remember as much as you can. When Magistrate Yu arrives, find a way to hand it over." He was lucky to have conducted the investigation himself; otherwise, it would have been a disaster.

For the next fifteen minutes, they sat in silence as Song Duanping concentrated, trying to memorize every word.

The jailer began to urge them to leave, and after three warnings, Wang Jingu whispered, "If we don't leave now, we'll be suspected," and then called out, "Alright, we're leaving."

"Will you be alright?" Song Duanping asked, interrupted by Wang Jingu.

"I'll be fine. The Song Dynasty doesn't execute scholars; the worst is exile to Shamen Island."

"But they can let you die in prison..."

"Life and death are in the hands of fate," Chen Xiliang wrote, "Confucius said, 'To achieve ren...'"

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"Why did it take so long?" The jailer was clearly displeased when they came out.

"Come to Yicui Tower later, and I'll treat you," Wang Jingu said, and the jailer softened, "Hurry up, the officials will be coming to inspect the prison soon."

"Sure thing." Wang Jingu quickly pulled Song Duanping out of the prison.

Outside the criminal court, Wang Jingu finally breathed a sigh of relief. He looked at Song Duanping, who was standing with a serious expression, seemingly reciting something.

When asked what he was doing, Song Duanping didn't answer but started walking quickly. Wang Jingu hurried to catch up, but in the blink of an eye, he could only see Song Duanping's back, and in another blink, he was gone around the corner.

'Is this a ghost?' Wang Jingu rubbed his eyes, unable to believe such speed.

When he got home, he found Song Duanping already sitting in the room, writing furiously.

He tried to enter but was stopped by Wulang. When he tried to speak, Wulang gave him a fierce glare, scaring him into silence. He felt deeply wronged, 'This is my home, you know...' and could only squat in the yard, staring at the meditating monk.

Inside the room, with no table, Chen Ke stacked two book boxes. He held a candle with one hand and supported the book box with the other, while Song Duanping wrote on top.

After writing for nearly fifteen minutes, Song Duanping put down his pen, wiped the sweat from his face, and shook his head, "I don't have your memory, so I could only remember this much..."

"It's already shocking," Chen Ke said solemnly, "I never thought that in the Song Dynasty, which prides itself on eradicating corruption, there could be such rampant embezzlement."

"Yes..." Song Duanping sighed, "I don't understand how they dare."

"Far from the emperor, close to the heavens."

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Chapter 1, requesting monthly votes! Requesting recommendations!