He paused, then looked up, “We can discuss Yang Wan. She took away the Hangzhou Academy students. Chief Censor Ji won’t report their actions, but the Embroidered Uniform Guard will. Once His Majesty orders severe punishment for these students, Yang Wan will end up like you are now. I once told her that under my protection in my household, I could shield her from anything, but it’s too late now—you and she must both be punished according to the law.”
Deng Ying remained silent.
Zhang Luo shouted, “Why don’t you answer?”
“You can’t discipline her.”
“What did you say?”
Deng Ying’s voice was calm, “I said you can’t discipline her.”
He looked up, “Deputy Commander Zhang, you once told me it wasn’t you disciplining me, but the Great Ming Code. I accept that, which is why I stand before you now, but Yang Wan won’t accept it.”
Zhang Luo gave a cold laugh, “Can she escape just because she doesn’t accept it?”
Deng Ying shook his head, “If I hadn’t accepted it, I might have escaped too.”
Zhang Luo said, “What do you mean? Did you walk into the imperial prison yourself?”
“Yes. I came of my own accord.” He picked up the prison clothes beside him.
“These prison clothes too—I choose to wear them. As someone marked by punishment, in this dynasty, this is as far as I can go, but…”
As he spoke, Yang Wan’s face came to mind, and he smiled gently.
“But I admire that woman. She did what I couldn’t do, and said what I couldn’t say. I’m willing to accept the Great Ming Code’s punishment in prison, but I believe in her. She won’t end up like me—she still has paths to walk, she will live well.”
Zhang Luo’s hands clenched into fists on his knees, remembering when Yang Wan was interrogated for the Crane Residence case.
Under the whip, she had writhed in extreme pain, her whole body twisted, every limb trembling.
On the surface, she was like any other female prisoner—frail, afraid of pain, crying out and begging for mercy after just two or three lashes.
Yet even so, she never let her spirit break, desperately maintaining her rationality to parry with him between bouts of torture, even occasionally seizing opportunities to turn the questioner into question.
Thinking back now, Zhang Luo realized she probably hadn’t begged out of fear at all—she was merely creating openings to speak.
That interrogation, which should have been under Zhang Luo’s control, somehow became Yang Wan’s statement.
In all his years managing the imperial prison, that was the only time it had happened.
She had never truly submitted to the law’s punishment, but instead constantly used the law, used Zhang Luo’s principles, to force him to abandon her interrogation, then force him to interrogate his father, force him to look inward, force him to question himself, and finally, even force him to doubt the beliefs he’d held for nearly ten years.
Deng Ying said he admired that woman.
The word “admire”—Zhang Luo now found some meaning in it too.
“Deputy Commander.”
“Speak.”
“His Majesty summons you to the palace.”
Zhang Luo stood up and asked in front of Deng Ying, “Is the Clear Wave Inn surrounded?”
The guard answered, “It’s surrounded, but Eastern Depot people are guarding both front and back doors, not letting our men in. However, we’ve confirmed that the Hangzhou academy students and that woman Yang Wan are inside.”
“Understood. Keep watch—I’ll handle it myself after I return from the palace.”
He glanced at Deng Ying, “Change your clothes.”
As he walked away, he added, “Give him medicine.”
The guard asked, “Should we chain him up?”
“Yes. Give him food, and let him rest after he’s eaten.”
“Sir…”
The guard’s voice was hesitant.
“If you have something to say, say it.”
“Yes, sir. Why are you treating this prisoner this way?”
Zhang Luo paused, then after a long moment said, “Wait until I’ve seen His Majesty—I’ll explain when I return.”
Moonlight shone on the imperial city.
All the stone lamps before the Hall of Mental Cultivation burned brightly. The meeting gate displayed the Ceremonial Office’s placard, keeping the door open for the Imperial Pharmacy. The duty physicians from the Imperial Pharmacy had all straightened their official robes and were following the Ceremonial Office eunuchs toward the hall, trembling.
“Master Hu.”
“Yes?”
“His Majesty’s throat condition had been better for years—why has it flared up so severely these past days?”
Hu Xiang said, “What else could it be? He’s worried about state affairs—it’s exhaustion.”
“What does Master Peng say?”
Hu Xiang sighed, “Isn’t that why he’s calling you all to consult?”
“Oh my.”
Several physicians wrung their hands nervously, whispering, “Does this mean… the previous prescription isn’t working anymore?”
Hu Xiang turned and snapped, “What are you muttering about?”
The physicians quickly replied, “We wouldn’t dare.”
They fell silent as frightened cicadas and stood waiting at the bottom of the moon terrace.
The Emperor reclined on his couch while the Empress sat beside him attending his illness, holding a bowl of porridge. The Emperor pushed away the bowl and said to the Empress, “Enough, I have no appetite.”
The Empress urged, “You haven’t eaten anything since the Chief Censor came. I’m truly worried.”
Emperor Zhenning didn’t respond to the Empress, instead asking his attendant, “What incense are you burning?”
“Your Majesty, it’s still sandalwood.”
“Put it out, put it out.”
Emperor Zhenning’s voice showed irritation, “My throat is uncomfortable.”
The Empress said, “The Imperial Physicians are already discussing a prescription. Please rest a while and calm your mind. This Deng Ying is just a servant—you can leave him to Deputy Commander Zhang for questioning. Why trouble yourself so?”
The Emperor said irritably, “What do you know? Withdraw.”
Just then, Hu Xiang entered and announced, “Your Majesty, Deputy Commander Zhang, Minister Bai, and Vice Minister Yang have arrived.”
The Empress couldn’t help adding, “Your Majesty, perhaps not today—for the sovereign to receive officials while ill in bed would make them anxious too.”
Emperor Zhenning coughed several times and raised his voice, “When I tell you to withdraw, withdraw!” In his agitation, his sweeping hand accidentally knocked a golden hairpin from the Empress’s temple.
The Empress, feeling the shame, quickly put down the porridge bowl and withdrew with a bow.
Hu Xiang led the three men into the inner chamber, where they performed full prostrations before the imperial bed.
The Emperor had Hu Xiang help him sit up, managing to cross his legs.
“You may all rise.”
Yang Lun stood up, glanced at the Emperor’s complexion, and said softly, “Your Majesty, we are overwhelmed with trepidation.”
The Emperor exhaled a heated breath and said to Yang Lun, “Is the court quieter now?”
“Yes.”