This frustrated Yang Lun, but ethics and moral principles were too deeply rooted in his heart – serious words were simply unsuitable for expressing his disappointment as an elder brother.
“I’m sorry, I embarrassed you today.”
She said this while rubbing her hands together.
Yang Lun helped her sit by the temple gate. “Do you feel guilty?”
“Somewhat toward you, but not toward others.”
Yang Lun smiled slightly, taking the umbrella from the servant and having his cloak brought over to give to her.
“Put this on.”
He held the umbrella steady for her and said quietly: “Let it go this time.”
He spoke very softly while adjusting the cloak around her. “I don’t want to see him touch you.”
“Deng Ying?”
“Yes.”
Yang Wan didn’t answer.
Seeing her silence, Yang Lun couldn’t help but ask: “Has he offended you before?”
Yang Wan watched the broken shadows of people in the rain.
“Do you think he would?”
“He wouldn’t dare.”
“Indeed.”
She looked up at Yang Lun. “You put chains on his hands and feet, and want to put shackles on his emotions too. Until now he’s accepted it all, never resisting you all, but I don’t think this is him admitting guilt or showing weakness to you. He just doesn’t want to give up on himself, or you all. Even if you don’t want to listen to him, please don’t join these people in pressuring him. If one day he’s executed by lingchi, both you and I will regret it.”
Yang Lun was startled.
“He told you?”
“Yes. I was shocked too. When he faces you all, his humility isn’t real, but when he faces me, he’s truly afraid.”
She paused, pressing her lips together and lowering her head. “I don’t want to see him like this.”
After hearing this, Yang Lun was silent for a long while.
“Are you blaming me?”
“A little bit.”
Yang Lun nodded.
“Fine, I won’t speak to Deng Ying like that anymore, and you stop giving me such a gloomy face.”
“Thank you.”
After she spoke, a smile flashed briefly across her face.
Yang Lun sighed with a smile and changed the subject: “By the way, there’s something I want to ask you.”
“Mm?”
“About Zheng Yuejia – I heard His Majesty nearly beat him to death but then pardoned him. You’re in the palace, do you know why?”
Yang Wan thought of Consort Ning, and couldn’t help but gloss over it.
“That happened in the Hall of Mental Cultivation. No specific details leaked out.”
Yang Lun rubbed his chin. “There’s something strange about this.”
“What’s strange?”
Yang Lun said: “By rights, once His Majesty ordered the beating, there’s no reason to suddenly take it back.”
Yang Wan asked in return: “Do you think this matter is important?”
Yang Lun shook his head. “I can’t tell now if this is a good thing or a bad thing.”
“Bad thing.”
She said it decisively. “The Grand Secretariat has allowed the Six Offices and Censorate to press their remonstrations, and His Majesty has been angry for more than a day or two. But his killing intent only touched Zheng Yuejia, not to mention the Directorate of Ceremonial or He Yixian. This attitude shows these people have already lost – if this continues, something will eventually happen. This time your Grand Secretariat is staying in the background, but what about the others?”
Yang Lun said: “It won’t come to that.”
Yang Wan continued, “True, the court won’t punish the entire Six Offices. But might they not make examples elsewhere?”
Hearing her say this, Yang Lun suddenly remembered Zhang Luo’s unfinished sentence.
He quickly turned around: “Hold the umbrella well, I need to see the Teacher.”
Yang Wan watched Yang Lun’s retreating figure and took a deep breath, letting it catch in her throat, unwilling to exhale for a long time.
Sometimes, she would have a terrifying illusion.
As if history was made up of the lives and deaths of a group of people.
Early in the twelfth year of Zhenning, Deng Yi was beheaded.
In the summer of Zhenning’s twelfth year, Zhang Zhanchun passed away.