Chapter 41 Madman
The scorching smell, like a red-hot iron, pressed firmly against every inch of the wreckage of Xunyang City. Wen Youqing stood beneath the remaining half of the wall to the west of the city, his gaze piercing the dense gray fog and fixed on the kneeling figure not far away.
Shen Zijie was once one of the most romantic young men from aristocratic families in the capital, wearing a jade crown and brocade robe, and full of vigor and vitality.
At this moment, he was wrapped in an old robe of indistinguishable color, his back hunched, his entire body almost buried in a pile of charred ruins that still held warmth. The hands that once held a pen, wrote, played the piano, and played chess were now covered in blood, their nails cracked, and they were frantically digging through the broken rubble and broken beams.
Every time he scratched and dug, a cloud of choking black ash was raised, which stuck to his face, which was stained by sweat and tears. Mixed with the blood between his fingers, he looked as miserable as a ghost crawling out of hell.
Wen Youqing's throat ached with dryness, and she turned away. She knew that all that remained of Shen Zijie's world was the scorched earth before her, devouring the people he ruled.
The strange and fierce fire, unpredictable and seemingly emanating from the depths of the underworld, engulfed this densely populated city on the borderland overnight. The fire, fueled by the wind, and the wind aided the fire's might, engulfing the city at a despairing speed.
At this moment, the remaining broken walls and ruins were like huge and ferocious animal bones, slanting towards the lead-gray sky that was still shrouded in smoke and dust.
Intermittent, heart-wrenching cries came from somewhere, but were quickly drowned out by the sound of rammed earth constructing a new building.
Shen Zijie whimpered like a trapped animal, digging faster and faster, with a kind of desperate madness. Finally, he suddenly stopped and froze.
Wen Youqing staggered a few steps closer.
There were three charred corpses huddled together, one large and two small, their faces completely distorted, their faces reduced to nothing but charcoal-black, twisted outlines, like three tangled, melted pieces of charcoal.
One could vaguely discern the mother, using her final strength to secure her two children beneath her. Her charred, curled arms still held the embrace, a futile attempt to shield the children in her arms from the raging flames and the oncoming death.
Shen Zijie's face was buried deep within the charred mass, his broad shoulders twitching violently, his suppressed grief like a concrete icicle. He knelt in the long-cold ashes, cradling the charred remains of his subjects, like a clay statue torn apart and thrown into a furnace.
They had no idea who it was and only glanced at the ruins as they left.
—
The wind from the capital, carrying the sweetness of magnolia and the rusty smell of power, blew through the towering red gates and black tiles on both sides of Zhuque Street.
The carriage wheels rolled over the smooth bluestone slabs, making a monotonous rumbling sound. Inside the carriage, Shen Zijie was as silent as a stone soaked in ice. He had changed into a clean blue cloth robe, but it couldn't hide the deep fatigue and a kind of scorched, almost dead melancholy between his brows. The scorched earth smell of Xunyang City seemed to have seeped into his bones.
Wen Youqing sat across from him, her fingertips unconsciously twisting a plain handkerchief. She looked at Shen Zijie's tightly pursed lips, the bottomless pool of cold in his eyes, and a strong sense of unease quietly wrapped around her heart like an icy vine.
This time she returned to Beijing to report on her work and was demoted in name but promoted in reality. She should have been relieved of a heavy burden, but she knew that the fire in Xunyang burned not only the city and lives, but also burned something deep-rooted in Shen Zijie's heart.
I did a good job but didn’t get promoted; but I made a mistake but got promoted instead.
The carriage drove into the familiar side door of the Shen Mansion. The servants stood with their hands hanging down, holding their breath and concentrating, even breathing very lightly.
The new mansion was spacious and grand, with carved beams and painted rafters, and lush flowers and trees. However, this scene of wealth and tranquility seemed false and ostentatious to the two men who had just returned from hell.
Washing, dressing, eating. Everything went on as planned, yet it felt lifeless. Shen Zijie said almost nothing, only occasionally, when his eyes glanced at the carefully trimmed flowers and plants outside the window, would a trace of indescribable pain pass through him.
Wen Youqing tried to speak several times, but every time the words reached her lips, they were blocked by the invisible layer of ice around him that rejected all comfort.
She was cruel and could not comfort him. She believed that he would make his own decision.
For two consecutive months, the lights in the study were on until midnight.
The uneasy string in Wen Youqing's heart grew tighter and tighter. She put on her clothes and stood up, barefoot, quietly walked through the corridor, and stopped outside the closed carved wooden door of the study.
The dim candlelight shines through the window lattice paper, illuminating the figure of Shen Zijie working at his desk.
She held her breath and listened attentively. There was no sound of grinding ink or rustling of papers.
Only a pen.
The hard-bristle brush, saturated with thick ink, landed heavily on the rice paper, making a resolute rustling sound. It wasn't writing; it was engraving, an accusation, a desperate, all-consuming thrashing of grievances! Every stroke carried the force to pierce through the paper.
Her heart sank, her fingertips felt cold. The sound was as heavy as digging through the scorched earth of Xunyang City.
Sure enough, a few days later, a memorial was like a huge rock thrown into a deep pool, causing a huge wave in the stagnant court.
Shen Zijie's "Memorandum of Apology for the Burning of Xunyang City" is a tearful and heartbreaking poem. He lamented his "failure to care for the people and neglect of duty in defending the land, both of which are unforgivable." But then his pen suddenly shifts to point to the true culprit of the fire: the "repair funds" that had been exploited at every level, passed off as inferior goods, and even contaminated with large amounts of sawdust!
He listed detailed dates, officials involved, and suspicious storage records, directly targeting several powerful and influential families that dominated the imperial court. In particular, he pointed out that the largest amount of low-quality wood was supplied by a branch of the Cui family.
He even revealed all the things that had happened to Empress Hehe, as if he was going to fight to the death.
"I often think of the scorched earth of Xunyang, and I cannot sleep at night. Three-year-old children and white-haired old women have all been reduced to dust! This is not a natural disaster, but a man-made disaster! Corrupt and corrupt officials have sucked the blood and sweat of the people, using rotten wood as pillars, and condemning countless lives to a fiery hell! Such a heinous crime cannot be whitewashed! Even if I die a thousand times, I will still make this report to the emperor to comfort the countless innocent souls in Xunyang!"
A deathly silence fell in the court. The eunuch trembled as the memorial was brought before the emperor. The old emperor's cloudy eyes scanned the shocking text, his dry fingers slowly stroking the bright yellow cover. In the end, he simply sighed, barely audible, and gently set the memorial aside, without erupting in anger.
However, an invisible storm had already begun to form. The contents of the memorial spread rapidly among the aristocratic and powerful, as if with wings. An undercurrent of anger surged among the wealthy and powerful.
Shen Zijie's move was tantamount to alienating himself from the entire class, and he personally tore off the fig leaf that maintained his decency and interests.
For a while, the Shen Mansion was deserted, but what Wen Youqing didn't expect was that he ran into Cui Junji, who was wearing a cloak, in the corridor late at night.
He had caused an unpleasant scene in the court during the day, but he showed up late at night. The two met in front of Shen Zijie's study. Although Wen Youqing was surprised, she quickly reacted and took a look inside the study. "Are you here to persuade him?"
"No." Cui Junji said calmly.
"That's good. This matter is dangerous. If you really want to help him, it's better to stay out of it. You can still help him at the critical moment..." Before she finished speaking, she was interrupted by Cui Junji. Wen Youqing heard words that made her doubt her ears.
"I am also the mastermind, together with Brother Shen."
"You..." Wen Youqing understood what was going on before she could say a word of surprise. She clenched the secret letter in her hand - that was the intelligence she had gathered from people in the martial arts world over the past few months. The burning of the city had nothing to do with the Cui family, it was all done by the Wang family.
Cui Junji's eyes fell on the letter in Wen Youqing's hand, frowned slightly, and said in a deep voice: "If Madam has to do something, then continue to study farming. After the flood in the south, paddy fields are more difficult to cultivate than before. Anyway..." His eyes fell back on Wen Youqing's face, restrained greed, pretending to be indifferent, "If something happens to you, Brother Shen will not be able to concentrate."
Perhaps because they had finally united this time, Wen Youqing's guard dropped considerably. She said sincerely, "Thanks for the reminder, but I can't guarantee I won't participate."
Wen Youqing nodded and said goodbye, passed by Cui Junji and entered the study.
The tip of his nose was filled with the faintest, most ordinary fragrance after a bath. Cui Junji stood outside the door for a long time, closing his eyes and greedily breathing in her scent. After a long time, when a quarrel broke out inside, the figure outside the door finally disappeared.
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