Zhang Luo gave a cold laugh. “You think speaking like this will make me go easy on you?”
Yang Wan shook her head. “You won’t… I never expected you to.”
Zhang Luo stood up. “I can’t hear what you’re saying.”
“Then let me recover for a few days… before questioning me again. It hurts too much…”
After saying this, she had no strength left. The wounds from the whipping continued to seep blood and water, dripping into the cracks in the floor.
Zhang Luo looked down at the cracks beneath Yang Wan.
It had been thirty years since the former emperor established this prison. Every brick, every instrument of torture, every person here—including Zhang Luo himself—had become numb to human wounds; when wounds bled, they simply let them bleed. If there was too much, they’d bring a bucket of water to wash it away. It was never anything beautiful, just filth to be released to keep people conscious before prying open their mouths.
Zhang Luo had never minded the stench before, and could even drink tea amid the smell of blood.
But now when she said it hurt too much, he found himself unconsciously looking at her wounds.
But it was just a glance, and he immediately pulled his spirit back together, once again scrutinizing the person on the ground and her words with sharp eyes.
Was that the truth spoken from extreme pain, or another round of her subtle maneuvering?
Zhang Luo couldn’t be certain, but precisely because of this, he wouldn’t let her off so easily.
“Pull her up.”
“Yes.”
Zhang Luo’s voice was cold, so the officers showed no mercy to Yang Wan, grabbing her arms and forcing her upper body upright.
Yang Wan’s consciousness was already half gone, and now she felt her eyelids heavy, wanting to open them but unable to.
“Wake her.”
The ladle of cold water Zhang Luo ordered for her helped bring her consciousness back together. She gently licked the water from her lips, the water mixing with saliva to wet her mouth, finally allowing her to swallow twice. “Are you… still going to question me?”
“Yes.”
Zhang Luo looked down at her. “You haven’t answered a single question.”
“Why are you… so willing to be used by the Ceremonial Office?”
“You don’t need to know.”
“Zhang Luo…”
Yang Wan crawled forward on her knees one step. “I want to know…”
She tried to break free from the officers’ restraints, speaking brokenly: “I want to… know what… what you’re thinking?”
“I can tell you.”
Zhang Luo’s voice now showed almost no emotion.
“But after I tell you, you’ll still wish you were dead.”
He crouched down and stared into Yang Wan’s eyes. “His Majesty is the Son of Heaven of the Great Ming. As Commander of the Northern Suppression Bureau, I must uphold only heaven’s authority. Between heaven’s authority and human life, the latter means nothing to me, even if that life is my own.”
Yang Wan was speechless.
Zhang Luo continued: “If Consort Ning truly had an affair with Zheng Yuejia, I would report it to His Majesty. You remind me of my current situation, merely hoping I’ll give up torturing you and Zheng Yuejia, to help Consort Ning escape punishment. But I ask you if Consort Ning escapes punishment, who will pay for the deception of His Majesty? If no one pays, where is heaven’s authority?”
These words exploded like thunder beside Yang Wan’s ears.
Yang Wan gave a coughing laugh. “I understand.”
“What do you understand?”
Yang Wan nodded while laughing bitterly. “I understand how you think now. Fine…”
She stretched out both hands. “If you want to continue questioning, then bind me tight with iron chains, leave me no room to struggle. Zhang Luo, I might babble nonsense if I can’t bear the torture, but I tell you, as long as I’m alive, I won’t confess—unless you kill me.”
Zhang Luo looked at her hands stretched before him and said coldly: “In my hands, death is the hardest thing to achieve.”
Just as he was about to stand, the officer behind him reported: “Sir, people from the Eastern Depot are here.”
Zhang Luo’s hand paused on his knee. “What for?”
“They say they have imperial orders to take this female official away.”
“What imperial orders!”
Zhang Luo suddenly pushed himself up and strode straight out of the torture chamber.
With his departure, the spirit Yang Wan had been desperately maintaining suddenly completely deflated.
She gasped for air in great gulps, her shoulders trembling, her limbs convulsing. The officers had to release her, letting her collapse to the ground sobbing. Soon, the sobbing turned to crying, sounding particularly miserable in the pin-drop silence of the torture chamber.
Seeing her cry so pitifully, the two officers exchanged glances, and one couldn’t help saying: “Should we lock her up and take her to a cell first?”
“Is that okay? The commander might want to continue questioning when he returns.”
They spoke while looking at her wounds again.
The one who spoke first said: “Let’s lock her up first. Maybe when the commander returns and sees she’s already locked up, he might show some mercy. This crying is too… ah, it’s truly pitiful, she is a female official from the Palace Ceremonial Department after all.”
Outside the torture chamber, Qin Wende, the Thousand Households Commander of the Eastern Depot’s disciplinary division, bowed to Zhang Luo.
He used to be with the Northern Suppression Bureau, but he was straightforward and frank, often offending people by saying the wrong things. He was later transferred to the Imperial Guard, and after a few years, returned to the Imperial Guards, but at his age, he found no success anywhere. However, when Deng Ying reformed the Eastern Depot, he was the first name chosen. Since then, his relationship with Zhang Luo has become adversarial.