Zheng Yuejia, prostrate on the ground, raised his head to look at Deng Ying. Though neither spoke, each had their unspoken words, hoping the other would be sufficiently attuned to understand their meaning in silence.
“Just don’t take his life.”
Deng Ying said this evenly while looking at Zheng Yuejia’s back.
Zheng Yuejia’s shoulders visibly relaxed in response, and he shook his head with a slight smile.
Deng Ying withdrew his gaze, stepped back several paces, and then raised his hand to beckon the punishment guard forward. “After the punishment is complete, have the Northern Patrol Office come to take him away.”
“Yes.”
Only then did Deng Ying turn to face Zheng Yuejia. “Begin the beating.”
Forty strokes, though breaking sinew and bone, were merely one hand of the emperor stripping away Zheng Yuejia’s status as Secretary—a ritual of the master above discarding a servant. After this flaying of flesh, the imperial prison would no longer view him as someone from the Department of Palace Attendance, or even as a human being. He would become completely subject to imperial power, mere flesh without dignity, stripped even of the qualification to be half a person.
Throughout the Ming imperial city, there were thousands of eunuchs. The dim-witted lived in constant fear, while the ambitious guessed at their masters’ preferences and scrambled desperately to advance. But regardless, the essence of their actions was fear of meeting Zheng Yuejia’s fate.
Thus, the palace servants before Yangxin Gate now all drew in their necks, listening in terror to Zheng Yuejia’s cries of pain. This was undoubtedly intimidation, making souls tremble. Most people eventually couldn’t bear to directly witness the tragic scene before them.
Only Deng Ying stood behind Yangxin Gate, silently watching Zheng Yuejia. Speaking of empathy, he too had been treated this way before. However, precisely because he had never regarded such punishment as master’s discipline, he now couldn’t harbor useless sympathy for Zheng Yuejia like the other palace servants.
After forty strokes, the white cloth beneath Zheng Yuejia was soaked with blood. When the rod was lifted, Zheng Yuejia’s whole body continued to convulse uncontrollably.
Deng Ying blocked the Bureau guards who moved to drag him up. “Let him rest a moment.”
The guards then stepped back.
Zheng Yuejia painfully opened his eyes and reached out a hand toward Deng Ying. Deng Ying crouched down close to him and asked: “Do you have any words you want me to report to His Majesty?”
Zheng Yuejia’s hand lost strength and fell onto the white cloth. Unable to raise himself, he could only look up at Deng Ying. “Don’t… try to save me… any of you…”
Deng Ying gripped the fabric at his knee and after a long moment spoke three words.
“I understand.”
He stood up directly and turned to find Zhang Luo standing behind him. “Will the Eastern Investigation Bureau escort him, or shall we take him?”
Deng Ying stepped aside. “You take him, but I have one thing to say: the Northern Patrol Office must not use unauthorized torture. Every interrogation session must be reported to the Investigation Bureau.”
Zhang Luo glanced at Zheng Yuejia, then looked up at Deng Ying and said coldly: “Are you trying to place yourself above my Patrol Office?”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
As he spoke, Deng Ying bowed to Zhang Luo, then raised his head to look him in the eye. “This servant won’t prevent Your Honor from questioning under torture. Our lives are like dust, not worth mentioning. But once this matter is investigated, countless others will be implicated. Human life is not worthless grass—Your Honor should tread carefully.”
He finished speaking and turned toward Yangxin Palace, but Embroidered Guard soldiers raised their swords to block his path.
Behind him, Zhang Luo’s voice was unusually cold: “Let me ask you: between imperial authority and human life, which weighs more?”
Deng Ying didn’t answer. The Bureau guards behind him knocked aside the Embroidered Guard’s sword hilts.
“Supervisor, you go report to His Majesty first.”
Deng Ying looked up at the roof of Yangxin Palace, his dark eyes responding with a “Very well.” He let the Bureau guards hold back the Embroidered Guard while he walked alone toward Yangxin Palace.
Many people, including Yang Lun and Deng Ying, have asked themselves this question. The difference was that Zhang Luo already had his answer in his heart, while Yang Lun and others still debated it as an ongoing proposition.
But Deng Ying had no position to participate in their debate.
He had to choose.
Yet whichever side he chose, he would be guilty.