Chapter 47: Beheading
Since that night, there have been constant assassinations along the way.
When they were almost in the capital, the detoxification pills were all used up. Wen Youqing also received a letter from the capital.
"...It has been discovered that the former Xunyang prefect, Shen Zijie, has refused to repent and disregarded the grace of Heaven. While confined to reflect on his mistakes, he framed loyal officials and fabricated charges in an attempt to confuse the public and disrupt the government! His heart is deplorable, and his actions are rebellious! All official titles and honors are hereby stripped from him, and he is imprisoned for strict interrogation! This is my decree!"
"Frame a loyal and good person!" These four words burned into Wen Youqing's heart like a red-hot iron.
She didn't check and stepped into the fire.
When Cui Junji pulled her out, she felt like she had grabbed a lifeline and asked, "Is there any other way? They've already taken action."
Cui Junji noticed her mood was not right and immediately took the letter. After quickly reading it, he ignored his body and jumped on his horse. He said, "Hurry, we can reach the capital in four days at the earliest. We can execute him after five days. There is always room for maneuver."
They hurried over, and Wen Youqing saw that Cui Junji was not in good condition. He struggled for a long time and could only go ahead and let Cui Junji rest for half a day.
Wen Youqing rushed on the road desperately and finally arrived on the fourth night.
Because Cui Junji had informed the authorities earlier, Shen Zijie was able to be released from prison temporarily. He was roughly handcuffed by two sturdy Ti cavalrymen and escorted out.
Shen Zijie didn't struggle, didn't argue, and didn't even look at anyone. His face was as pale as death in the torchlight, but his eyes were unusually calm, as calm as the dead sea before a storm.
At the moment when he was about to be pushed out of the prison gate, his footsteps seemed to pause slightly, and for a very brief moment, his eyes cast towards the void outside the door - the direction where Wen Youqing was standing.
That glance was short and deep.
He said softly, "My wife is outside. Please allow me to straighten my clothes."
The Tiqi were all wooden, not listening, not looking, not asking, but they were still moved by his eyes. There was no fear in those eyes, no pleading, only a kind of understanding that penetrated life and death, saw through everything, and an almost imperceptible, deep-seated regret and farewell.
After tidying up his clothes, Shen Zijie walked out and saw Wen Youqing biting her lower lip tightly.
In just a few days, the once upright, elegant, and graceful Minister of Justice had been tortured beyond recognition. His filthy prison uniform, its original color unrecognizable, hung loosely on him, making his emaciated appearance even more apparent.
His exposed wrists and neck were covered in a crisscross of scars, old and new, swollen and purple, their flesh torn. His hair was a tangled mess, stained with dirt and dried blood, covering most of his face. But he still managed to stand straight, like a withered bamboo tree that refused to fall despite being bent by a fierce wind.
The smell of blood filled his mouth. Wen Youqing straightened his back, digging his nails deep into his palms. He used all his strength to stop himself from crying out loud. The words "I'm sorry I didn't bring anyone back" were very soft, but they hit Shen Zijie's ears like a stone.
"What's there to apologize for? It doesn't matter anymore. As long as you're okay, that's all that matters." He hugged Wen Youqing and comforted her softly.
"I'm fine. Cui Jun has poisoned me." With grievance swirling in his eyes, Wen Youqing took out the wontons and braised pork he had bought on the roadside and said, "Prison is not like home. Have you eaten well these past two days? Eat something first and we'll talk."
Chen Zijie saw Wen Youqing's hands trembling as she held the food. He had imagined many times what Wen Youqing would say and do, but he had never imagined she would bring him food. At that moment, his nose was sore. Suddenly, power struggles and ambitions were no match for a home-cooked meal.
Shen Zijie pressed down on Wen You's trembling hand, helped her take out food, and said with a smile: "If I really leave, remember to live well. I left a lot of things for you at your grandparents' house. Stay away from the capital and live well."
"I've thought it through. Cui Junji is here. Let his leading man's aura handle it. Nothing will happen to you!" Wen Youqing said with certainty. "Since there's a plot here, you'll definitely be fine."
"This is not a book." A light sentence interrupted all of Wen Youqing's retreat plans.
"What?"
"...I lied to you. There is no hero here, nor any son of destiny." Shen Zijie said frankly, "I died once, and there was no clue at all, and here I am again. I don't know what to do, how to go back. I just don't want to live like my first life. I want to live like Cui Junji."
After a moment of silence, Wen Youqing said, "So what? I never thought about going back. If you want to live like him, then live. But why don't you live anymore? Don't you like it?"
The sharp words left Shen Zijie speechless.
Wen Youqing answered for him, "Your conscience cannot bear it."
"You play with power and treat the lives of the people like worthless grass. Even if you were reborn several times, you would never be able to do that. If you knew that breaking off the engagement would force a woman and a family into despair, would you have used all means to break off the engagement? If you had known about the burning of Xunyang City earlier, would you not have stopped it? Why did you choose Wang Rong instead of Cui Junji in the first place? Isn't it because Wang Rong is a practical person?"
"You could also turn a blind eye to Xunyang, come back and slowly walk the path to becoming second to none, but you can't do that. I can't do that either. When I close my eyes, all I see is the fire that day, and the neighbors who were engulfed in flames. When I see the temple, I think of A-Lu, who was sacrificed and whose remains are now gone."
"No matter how insignificant we are, no matter how much we want to lie down, we are still human beings, living people." Wen Youqing wiped away her tears and pushed the hot wontons and braised pork in front of Shen Zijie. "If there is no turnaround tomorrow, do you need me to take you there?"
"Don't come, I'm afraid to see you crying like a dog."
"good."
She watched her husband being pushed and disappeared into the dark door, and listened to the sound of the heavy iron door slamming shut. The sound was like hitting her heart, shaking her internal organs.
After just one night, Wen Youqing still hadn't given up. She mobilized the Shen family's remaining connections, sold the few farms that came with her as a dowry, and gave away almost all of her gold and silver, running around the capital like a madman.
She sought to see every family friend and elder she could possibly have a say in, even kneeling before the residences of several ministers. However, all she received in response was the indifference of a closed gate, the evasive excuses of the doorman, or the sighs of deep regret and helplessness from her uncles and cousins behind the curtains.
"My dear niece-in-law, this matter... has become known to the world."
"Framing loyal and honest people is a crime of conspiracy and rebellion. Who dares to say anything?"
"My nephew Jun Ji has also been running around for your family... but... alas!"
She even went to her own home to seek help from other doctors, but her parents wouldn't even let her in.
Wen Youqing suddenly smiled bitterly. What on earth was she expecting from them? Was she expecting them to help her? Was she expecting them to treat her like family?
She was still too naive. They were eager to distance themselves from such a small matter as reputation. They did not add insult to injury in such a big matter as going against the aristocratic family. This was already the greatest "help" to her.
Cui Junji's name, like a curse, recurred among these sighs. Wen Youqing's heart felt like it was being pierced by an ice spike every time she heard it. If even Cui Junji couldn't handle something, her influence was even less significant.
She seemed to see an invisible web woven of lies and power, which had already tightly covered Shen Zijie, and all her struggles were just the futile fluttering of a moth in the web.
She finally returned home in the early morning and saw a figure at the door. It looked unfamiliar, but she was sure it was one of her own.
Sure enough, the figure quickly approached her. It was Si Shi, no, it was Luo Ling. She was dressed in a tight outfit. After waiting for a long time, she took a few steps forward and supported Wen Youqing, whispering as they walked, "Miss, I have another solution."
Luo Ling helped Wen Youqing wash and rest as before. After everyone left, she said, "I found out that Zhu Shisan's former subordinates ran away because they were exploited too much. But they left some account books, which I bought."
The great news made Wen Youqing's tired body and mind relaxed. She tightly grasped the account books, knelt on the ground and was about to kowtow to Luo Ling.
Luo Ling was so frightened that he quickly helped Wen Youqing up. He was speechless and said, "I was thinking, if this doesn't work, I'll take the brothers to rob the execution ground."
"Thank you so much, really." Wen Youqing burst into tears, but she still had her wits about her shoulders. "The Shen family is in trouble. You should leave now. It's not good for you to be involved with us for too long. Don't come tomorrow, and don't do anything."
The words that almost seemed like entrusting an orphan to someone else made Luo Ling feel uneasy. "Miss!"
"Listen to me, please." Wen Youqing kept half of the account book, took the remaining half, and pushed Luo Ling out the door.
The thick, impenetrable night weighed heavily on the walls of Jinling. Wen Youqing hunched over the cold desk, his cheek resting on a stack of ink-soaked papers, nearly sinking into the depths of the ink.
The candle had long since burned out, the last wick crackling softly, emitting a faint spark before extinguishing itself completely. Darkness, like a thick tide, instantly engulfed the study.
She woke with a start, her forehead covered in cold sweat, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest. In the darkness, only the faint sound of the night watchman's clapper outside the window could be heard, hollowly tapping against the deeper silence.
"It's the middle of the night..." she muttered, her voice as dry as sandpaper. Her fingertips groped, touching the thin, remaining piece of paper on the table. It was cold and hard, carrying the distinct fishy smell of ink and the herbaceous scent of paper. This was Shen Zijie's fate!
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
