Deng Ying nodded, “Yes.”
“Deng Ying.”
Bai Huan suddenly called his name, and Deng Ying’s hands paused at the sound.
“I’m here, Minister. Please speak.”
Bai Huan lowered his head to look at Deng Ying’s profile.
“Were the school lands of Chushan Academy and Hutan Academy not seized also to save Yang Lun?”
Deng Ying pressed his lips together, “Minister need not concern yourself with these matters. They’re not important.”
“I wrote the memorial impeaching you, causing you to fall to such a state. Don’t you harbor any resentment?”
Deng Ying continued putting on Bai Huan’s shoes as he replied: “Actually, I walked this path myself. It has nothing to do with you, Minister, or Master Yang. I know you didn’t want to treat me this way, but circumstances compelled you. The memorial could only be written by you, the hearts of the entire court could only be settled by you, and this path I now walk, others couldn’t walk it. So I harbor no resentment. My conscience is clear.”
After speaking, he set down Bai Huan’s foot and knelt again, performing a deep bow to Bai Huan.
“From today forward, let this bow temporarily account for all my offenses against you. When you are cleared of charges and leave the depot prison, I will properly ask your forgiveness.”
Bai Huan coughed several times, waving away the tea offered by the servant, speaking dejectedly: “You need not do this. Why won’t you take a step back?”
Deng Ying stood up, “Though I am a man who has undergone punishment, I don’t want to be a worthless person with my bones picked clean. When my teacher died tragically in prison years ago, I couldn’t save him. I’ve felt guilty about this my whole life, never able to forgive myself. Today you are imprisoned, I must save you.”
Bai Huan tremblingly reached out, gently touching Deng Ying’s temple. Deng Ying’s back stiffened, his throat catching as he said: “Teacher, you…”
He choked, quickly correcting himself: “Forgive me, sir.”
“It’s alright…”
Bai Huan smiled, “There’s no one else here now.”
He took hold of Deng Ying’s wrist.
“Roll up your sleeve higher.”
Deng Ying quickly complied.
Bai Huan looked at the wounds under the restraints, then coughed several times again.
“Bring tea for the master.”
Bai Huan waved his hand, “No need…”
He expelled a breath heavy with blood, “My time is near, old age and illness bind me. You’re so young, yet also covered in wounds and ailments. Zhang Zhanchun taught you the I Ching back then. Do you know your lifespan?”
Deng Ying shook his head, “I’ve never asked the I Ching about such things.”
Bai Huan nodded, “It’s good not to ask, good not to ask…”
He finished speaking and stood up holding the chair back, “Let your men come in. Today I feel strong enough to walk out myself.”
In the spring of the fourteenth year of Zhenning, the most absurd record appeared in Ming History.
Deng Ying, while awaiting punishment himself, interrogated Bai Huan.
The former teacher and student, are both in chains on the road.
Deng Ying walked on his own in front, while Bai Huan was supported by depot guards, stumbling behind.
That day after Yang Wan left Qingbo Hall, she didn’t immediately return to the palace.
She hid in the crowd, surrounded by curses, accompanying Deng Ying on that journey from the Bai residence to the Eastern Depot prison.
Throughout, she kept thinking of the accounts in Ming History, and later scholars’ interpretations of this absurd historical episode.
Those words were more rational and detached than the citizens’ “evil words.”
Yet the more detached they became, the colder and sharper they were.
Yang Wan watched Deng Ying from outside the crowd. He used his sleeves to hide the restraints on his wrists, gently avoiding the onlookers and children who pressed close to him, occasionally pausing to wait for Bai Huan behind him, softly telling the depot guards: “Walk more slowly.”
Amidst endless malice, Yang Wan saw a slight smile on Deng Ying’s face.
Very faint, but enough for her to notice.
Yang Wan turned to look at Bai Huan, this elderly man stumbling along, his expression also quite peaceful.
The Ming History recorded this as a great political drama of master and disciple completely falling out, destroying each other in a life-or-death struggle. In reality, these two men simply walked a path together with the same bearing, in tacit understanding.
Yang Wan watched from the crowd as Deng Ying and Bai Huan entered the Eastern Depot prison. The midday sun suddenly broke through the clouds.
The sunlight falling on her body already carried some warmth.
An old man selling maltose candy by the road held out his candies to Yang Wan, “Young lady, they’re very sweet, buy some?”
Yang Wan touched the money pouch Deng Ying had gotten from Qin Wende, smiling as she asked: “I’ll take three packages, two with more, one with less.”
The old man smiled, “Young lady buying three packages, that means the man in your household also likes sweets.”
Yang Wan nodded, “He doesn’t like sweets, but when I tell him to eat them, he will.”
The old man’s eyes curved in a smile, “Young lady’s husband must be very good.”
Yang Wan looked back toward the prison gates, responding softly:
“Yes… others don’t know, but no matter what, he is just an especially, especially good person…”