Countless dead leaves had piled up on the city moat.
Yang Lun followed Deng Ying to the riverbank. When the river wind blew, he couldn’t help but cough several times. Hearing the sound behind him, Deng Ying stopped walking forward and turned to Yang Lun, saying: “Your health…”
“Don’t ask about such things.”
Yang Lun cut him off sharply.
Deng Ying nodded awkwardly, “Ask what you want to ask me.”
Yang Lun composed himself, “When did the output from the school fields of Chu Mountain Academy and Hu Dan Academy become your private property?”
Deng Ying responded: “Before you went to Hangzhou.”
“Who gave you those fields?”
Deng Ying remained silent.
“Speak!”
Yang Lun stepped closer, “If you don’t tell the truth, I cannot rest easy!”
Deng Ying raised his head and asked: “What troubles you so?”
“Heh…”
Yang Lun laughed coldly, pointing at Deng Ying’s nose: “You think I’m not clearing the school fields because I fear harming the academy students? Director Deng, Chu Mountain Academy, and Hu Dan Academy together have over seven thousand mu of school fields, yet since the fourth year of Zhenning, they’ve been relying on support from several returned Donglin scholars. In such dire straits, having these fields or not hardly matters! I’ve already written a memorial impeaching you, but I still want to ask you in person – why?”
Deng Ying quietly endured Yang Lun’s emotional outburst and asked in return: “Did you write a memorial impeaching me?”
“…”
Yang Lun was speechless.
Deng Ying turned his back to the river wind and bowed deeply to Yang Lun, “Thank you, Zixi, for saving my life.”
Yang Lun stared at his bent back, his fists clenched, almost wanting to strike this man’s back directly.
He had indeed saved Deng Ying, even going so far as to fabricate lies and argue with Bai Yu Yang on the spot. He also knew that after knowing each other for over ten years, Deng Ying could surely see what he was doing. Simply put, this was just an ordinary game between cabinet ministers and eunuchs amid political strife. However, when Deng Ying called him Zixi and thanked him for saving his life, it gave Yang Lun a sudden sense of time flowing backward, of looking back through the years.
But he couldn’t return the scholarly greeting as he had in the past – once he returned the greeting, he would be aligning himself with this man.
“Since you won’t speak, I’ll let Bai Yu Yang continue interrogating Fu Bainian. I have nothing more to say to you.”
He turned to leave after speaking, but a voice followed from behind: “Zixi, let me live a few more years.”
Yang Lun turned back, “I come from official academies, but I deeply understand the difficulties of private schools. How many people today truly teach for their students’ sake? Most who maintain academies after establishing them have emptied themselves. If I tolerate corruption in education, how dare I keep my scholarly reputation?”
His emotions were intense, his fists almost clenched.
Deng Ying didn’t respond immediately, waiting until his emotions had somewhat subsided before asking in return: “If you won’t abandon your scholarly reputation, what about your own life?”
Yang Lun froze.
Deng Ying’s tone remained calm, “Someone in Hangzhou territory already tried to kill you. Do you know whose hand ordered it?”
“Who?”
A chill ran up Yang Lun’s spine.
“He Yixian.”
Yang Lun was stunned, and by connecting Deng Ying’s words, he suddenly understood something.
“What did you say earlier – when did those school fields’ production come under your name?”
“Early in the sixth month.”
Yang Lun pursued further:
“Under whose name were they before – He Yixian’s?”
“You first…”
“So you took responsibility for those seven thousand mu of private fields for him?”
Yang Lun didn’t let him finish, interrupting Deng Ying and grabbing his collar, “Going south to do such things – who value their life? Even those teenage students at the Imperial Academy dare to write death pledges. In your eyes, Deng Ying, am I such a coward that I need you to bear the infamy to save me?”
Deng Ying pressed on his wrist, “Let go.”
Yang Lun was furious and didn’t hear his words, forcing Deng Ying back several steps to a weeping willow. Deng Ying braced himself against the tree trunk with one hand, looking up at Yang Lun’s almost blazing gaze.
“Yang Zixi, what do you want to do to me? I’ve already taken responsibility!”
Yang Lun’s fist struck the tree trunk.
Deng Ying closed his eyes at the force of the blow, countless leaves falling from above.
He resigned himself to not arguing with Yang Lun, suppressing his emotions to say: “Your ‘Field Clearing Strategy’ – I’ve read it more than ten times, word by word, from beginning to end. You wrote about returning fields to the people, not just as empty theory, but with specific measurement methods, and timeframes for return, trying to truly eliminate abuses and restrict the monopolization of land by royal clan members and noble households. You wrote so well, I felt ashamed reading it. Ah, Yang Zixi, if I were still a person, I too could write a death pledge, and stake my life to contend with today’s court. But I can no longer be counted as a person – I’m not qualified to do what you can do. All I can do is prevent you and those who went south with you from having to write death pledges. Zixi… I beg you, let me walk this path.”
After hearing these words, Yang Lun’s shoulders trembled.
More unbearable than his humble gratitude was the debt owed to this man – not just his debt to Deng Ying, but the debt of the entire clamorous, unseeing political arena, the murky, factional, constantly grinding bureaucracy’s debt to this eunuch.
This “debt” couldn’t be placed on any clean table – no one would acknowledge it. Even Yang Lun himself couldn’t speak the word “thanks.”
“You trust so much that I’ll let you live a few more years?”
“I…”