Xu Qian'an watched the chief constable's retreating back, far from optimistic. Too many days had passed—collecting evidence would be next to impossible.
"No way to take fingerprints, no hope of lifting shoe prints… Zhang Xian wouldn't be foolish enough to leave his own tracks anyway… What methods exist in this era that can actually help solve a case?" He racked his brain for ideas.
...
"Useless bureaucrats! They're as crafty as monkeys when it comes to squeezing ill-gotten gains, able to wring silver from stone. But put them to real work, and they're all good-for-nothing curs."
Magistrate Zhu was fuming in the inner chamber. A murder case was serious enough on its own, but the deceased happened to be distantly related to Censor Xu, a senior official in the Ministry of Scrutiny.
What sort of men were censors? Self-proclaimed upholders of virtue, rabid dogs who bit at anyone, ready to impeach at the slightest displeasure.
Secretary Xu, a lean man with a goatee, stood by with a placid smile. "If you drive them too hard, sir, they'll resort to fishing for a scapegoat."
Both veteran officials knew their underlings' tricks well. In the game of officialdom, clerks were mere amateurs; the true masters of underhanded tactics dwelled in the imperial court, followed by provincial governors.
Fishing for a scapegoat?" Zhu snorted. "I'd turn a blind eye on ordinary days, but the capital inspection is approaching. If someone accuses me of torturing confessions, how will I defend myself?"
Just then, hurried footsteps approached. Chief Constable Wang entered the inner chamber, stopping at the threshold to bow respectfully, his voice brimming with excitement. "My lord, I've made progress in the Zhang case. Please issue an arrest warrant—I'll apprehend the suspect at once."
Magistrate Zhu and Secretary Xu exchanged a glance—the former sneered, the latter wearing a knowing smile.
Noting their odd expressions, Chief Constable Wang pressed, "My lord? Time is of the essence."
Slamming the table, Magistrate Zhu snapped, "Fool! What do you think this is? Still trying to 'fish for a scapegoat'? Have you no brains?"
Torturing confessions was acceptable on ordinary days, but there was a catch: once a suspect confessed, the testimony and files would be sent to the Ministry of Justice for review and sentencing. With the capital inspection approaching at year-end, the capital's officialdom was on edge—everyone was smoothing over their own misdeeds while spying on rivals, desperate to find dirt. This was a time when cases could be overturned at a moment's notice.
Wang hurried to defend himself: "You misunderstand, my lord! I truly have leads on the real culprit, no scapegoating here. Please trust me."
As if I don't know your capabilities… Magistrate Zhu wasn't convinced, but he eyed Wang: "Explain yourself in detail."
Finally, my chance to shine, Wang thought.
"Lord, allow me to lay out the case's many doubts," he said, proceeding to recount Xu Qian'an's deductions verbatim.
At first, Magistrate Zhu wore a sneer, but as he listened, he straightened in his seat. By the end, he was silent, face grave with thought.
"Brilliant!" Secretary Xu clapped sharply, eyes alight. "Peeling back layers like silk, weaving details into a coherent narrative. Even veteran Ministry of Justice officials couldn't do better."
Wang smiled modestly: "You flatter me, sir."
Magistrate Zhu scoffed: "Tell me—who taught you this?"
Pausing to suppress the urge to take credit, Wang replied honestly: "Constable Xu Qian'an."
"Constable" here referred not to a live-streaming platform or a broadcaster, but to a fast-track clerk, also known as a constable.
"Ah, him," Magistrate Zhu said, recognizing the name at once.
He'd shared drinks with Xu Pingzhi several times, and years ago, Xu Pingzhi had spent twenty taels of silver to secure this lucrative constable post for his nephew. In the Great Feng Dynasty, clerk positions could be passed down to sons—a golden rice bowl as steady as an ancient oak.
"That explains it," Magistrate Zhu chuckled.
Secretary Xu's eyes flickered, recalling the tax silver robbery involving the Xu family, and immediately asked, "What do you mean, my lord?"
Even Wang leaned in to listen.
Magistrate Zhu smiled faintly. "The tax silver theft caused an uproar. The Xu family was first in line for blame—why do you think they escaped punishment?"
Wang answered promptly: "I heard it was because Imperial Guard Xu assisted in the investigation, and His Majesty showed mercy."
He'd heard this from Xu Qian'an earlier.
Secretary Xu studied Magistrate Zhu's expression and probed, "Is there an insider story here?"
Secretary Xu hadn't yet risen high enough to know the details of the tax silver theft case, but Magistrate Zhu, as the parent official of Changle County, though a minor figure in the capital's sea of nobles, wouldn't hold his post without powerful backing.
Zhu scoffed. "Xu Pingzhi is a crude warrior—he was nothing but a scapegoat in that case…" He paused, as if reluctant to reveal more, then shifted course. "The Xu family's salvation didn't come from him."
"Then who?!" Wang blurted instinctively.
Secretary Xu had a flash of insight and waited for Zhu's next words.
"Xu Qian'an. He uncovered the truth of the tax silver case. It's recorded in the files—an old classmate of mine works in the Capital Prefecture," Zhu said. "A son takes his father's blame, a debt passed from parent to child. Nephew or not, the principle holds."
Secretary Xu sucked in a sharp breath. "After the case broke, Xu Qian'an was locked in the prefecture jail. How could he have done that?"
Zhu mused, "I thought it impossible at first, but now it makes sense."
Secretary Xu reached the same conclusion, dumbfounded. "Just from the files?!"
Just from the files… Wang's mind reeled. He'd heard whispers of such official secrets from his superiors, but the idea that Xu Qian'an had single-handedly unraveled the tax silver robbery to save his family was staggering.
This doesn't add up, Wang thought. No way. The kid had been a greenhorn when he first arrived—honest, stubborn, all head-down labor with no guile. How had this clueless rookie transformed into a case-cracking prodigy overnight?
...
By the time Chief Constable Wang returned to the rest room with the arrest warrant, Xu Qian'an was slumped over the table, fast asleep. He'd spent half the night tossing and turning, plagued by a jumble of thoughts, and hadn't dozed off until well after the third watch.
When a colleague reached to shake Xu awake, Wang quickly intervened, whispering, "Let him sleep." He briskly selected two men. "You two, come with me to Zhang Manor."
The three constables, each accompanied by their unpaid conscripts, made up a group of nine who hurried from Changle County Yamen. Conscripts were temporary laborers, part of the corvée system—commoners pressed into service with no pay, no meals, no lodging. But there was one silver lining: they never took the fall for mistakes.
Xu Qian'an was jolted awake by the distant cry of "Justice!" echoing through the yamen. Wiping drool from his lip, he trudged toward the grand hall, guessing the suspects had been apprehended and the magistrate was already in session.
In the courtroom, Magistrate Zhu sat high behind his desk, flanked by clerks and attendants. Below, three rows of bailiffs stood at attention on either side, while two figures knelt in the center: a young man in a blue tunic embroidered with cloud patterns, and a striking woman in a purple silk skirt. The woman wore a look of terrified agitation, while the man maintained a surprising calm.
"Crack!" Zhu slammed the gavel, his voice booming. "Who stands before this court?"
The woman glanced at the man instinctively. He gave her a reassuring nod before straightening his back. "Your humble servant, Zhang Xian."
The woman spoke timidly: "Your servant, Yang Zhenzhen."
Zhu barked, "How did you two kill Zhang Yourui? Confess at once!"
The woman flinched, her long lashes fluttering in terror. Zhang Xian gasped in outrage: "My lord, how can you say such a thing? I would never harm my own father."
"Where were you when the crime occurred?"
"In my study."
"Why were you not in bed with your wife?"
"I was reviewing accounts."
"Is there anyone who can vouch for you?"
"In the dead of night? No one saw me."
Zhang Xian's replies were crisp and composed—either the mark of a clear conscience or a rehearsed script. Based on his earlier deductions, Xu leaned toward the latter possibility. Though Zhang had no alibi, there was also no concrete proof of his guilt. Innocent until proven guilty, Xu reminded himself, but theories were one thing—without hard evidence, the law favored the accused.
he magistrate turned to the woman. "Madame Zhang, you've been married to Zhang Yourui for a decade without bearing children. Why are you now pregnant? Confess—did you conspire with your stepson to murder your husband?
"Yang Zhenzhen recoiled, bursting into tears. "My lord, I'm innocent! My health has been poor; I've spent years toning my body. This child is finally my husband's flesh and blood. How can you accuse me of such a crime based on this?" She dissolved into wails, shoulders heaving.
This approach will never get the truth, Xu thought, eyeing the tearful woman. As he watched her, a crafty plan began to take shape in his mind.