Chapter 48: Eve
Just an hour ago, every piece of paper was stained with the blood of Shen Zijie's injustice, and also bore the traces of her almost exhausted energy. She stood up suddenly, moving too quickly, and the round stool behind her fell over, making a sharp "clang" sound in the dead of night, making her eardrums buzz.
She didn't care about these things, and groped to grab the heavy half of the evidence on the table that was related to life and death, and held it tightly in her arms, as if holding Shen Zijie's only remaining life.
Half of the account book was given to the Dali Temple, and a letter of appeal was sent to the bookstore.
Politics or public opinion, one of them must be effective.
Pushing open the heavy door of the study, a cold wind, unique to the midnight of late autumn, carrying cold dew, suddenly rushed in, making her tremble all over, and her panic was completely dispelled.
The massive shadow of the old sycamore tree in the yard twisted and swayed in the pale moonlight, like a dormant beast. She wrapped her thin clothes tightly around her and stepped without hesitation into the suffocating darkness.
The road leading to the Dali Temple stretched endlessly through the night in Jinling City. The bluestone pavement beneath my feet cast a cold, dim light. All I could hear was the lonely echo of my own hurried footsteps through the empty streets, each one a pounding on my heart.
Occasionally, the mumbled murmurs of a drunk drifted out from the alley, or the rustling of stray dogs rummaging through garbage, which made her break out in a cold sweat. She subconsciously hugged the package in her arms tighter, her knuckles turning white from the force.
Finally, the two dark, copper-studded side doors of the Dali Temple appeared before her, like the maw of a monster. Two dreadful lanterns hung before them, swaying in the night breeze, their dim glow casting shifting shadows on the ground. She took a deep breath, the icy air stinging her lungs. She quickly stepped forward and rapped hard on the cold doorknocker.
"Boom boom boom!" The sound was particularly harsh in the silence.
A narrow window above the side door creaked open, and a sleepy, impatient face of a slave poked out, his eyes puffy and waxy yellow in the light.
"What are you yelling about in the middle of the night?" The voice was hoarse and full of annoyance at having a deep sleep interrupted.
"Excuse me," Wen Youqing's voice tried to remain steady as he pressed a heavy coin of silver into the man's hand, though a slight tremor still lingered. "Shen Zijie's wife, Wen, has urgent evidence to submit! It concerns Minister Shen's case of collaborating with the enemy!"
"Collaborating with the enemy?" The servant seemed to have been awakened from his sleepiness by this word. He looked her up and down with his cloudy eyes, a trace of subtle scrutiny and condescending pity. "A new charge? Another one against the Shen family? Tsk... wait!"
The small window slammed shut.
Time crawled slowly along the cold stone steps, each breath feeling as long as a century. Wen Youqing felt the evidence in her arms grow heavier and heavier, nearly crushing her spine. She could only cling to it tightly, as if it were the only piece of driftwood in a drowning river.
After an unknown amount of time, the heavy side door finally creaked with a teeth-grinding sound, opening a gap just wide enough for one person to pass through. Inside stood a clerk in a cyan official uniform, his face solemn and his eyes sharp as a knife.
"Mrs. Shen?" the clerk's voice was calm. "I heard you have new evidence?"
"Yes." Wen Youqing stepped forward and handed over the heavy package with both hands. "This is the key evidence in Shen Zijie's case of treason, but I want to see Lord Lu."
Lu Zhixue is one of the few loyal ministers in the court. She can only feel at ease if she gives the things to him.
The matter was of great importance, so the clerk hurried to ask for help.
It felt like a long time had passed before Wen Youqing saw Lu Zhixue.
This rumored upright minister was just as she imagined. Lu Zhixue silently accepted the package, weighed it, and lingered on her pale face for a moment. His expression was complex and difficult to discern, like a bottomless well. He said, "Shen Zijie is dealing with his own affairs and will not implicate his family."
Wen Youqing knew he had misunderstood, thinking she was here to distance herself from the matter and take advantage of the situation. She hurriedly said, "Sir, I just lied. Lord Shen did not collaborate with the enemy, nor did I frame loyal officials. This is the account book of Zhu Shisan, the witness, which records the timber in Xunyang City and the cause of the fire. Please clear Lord Shen's name."
Lu Zhixue nodded, still speaking in a businesslike tone: "I understand. The Dali Temple will investigate. But it is a bit unbecoming for Madam to do this." After saying that, without waiting for her to speak again, he took a step back. The heavy side door slowly closed in front of her, and finally with a "bang", it completely separated the inside and the outside, and also separated her from all her unfulfilled pleas and hopes.
The dull sound of the door hinges turning crushed her heart, but she forced herself to calm down. No matter how unfair Lu Zhixue was, who could be fair?
After leaving the Dali Temple, she stood stiffly on the cold stone steps, looking at the two black lacquered doors in front of her that had closed again and were as strong as iron walls. It took her a while to regain feeling in her limbs.
A huge, almost crippling feeling of exhaustion suddenly gripped her, leaving a soreness in her bones. She slowly turned around. The deep, cold bluestone alley she had come from now seemed even longer and more despairing.
Sleepiness washed over her taut nerves like an icy tide, yet it could never completely drown her. She struggled between the cold and the terror, her consciousness drifting in and out.
After a light sleep, it was still dark, so she got up and put on her clothes again. The mansion was shrouded in dead silence.
After an unknown amount of time, a faint ray of sunlight, like diluted gray ink, silently seeped in through the cracks in the window lattice, dispelling the thickest darkness in the room. Wen Youqing's heart felt as if it were being gripped by an icy hand. It suddenly stopped beating for a moment, then began to beat wildly again, almost bursting through his chest.
It's dawn! The wonton stall has started ringing!
She wanted to hear some news, so she leaned over outside the locked gate of the mansion and listened to the people's whispers.
As expected, the discussion outside has become a hot topic. Great, just start the discussion first.
Wen Youqing suddenly left the door, a huge sense of anxiety surging in her veins like lava. She rushed back to the bedroom, carefully picked out a dark green dress to change into, and put on an exquisite and extremely fragile wife look.
"Prepare the car! Go to Xishikou! Quickly!" She wanted to win this battle.
The wheels rolled over the bluestone pavement, making a monotonous, rapid "rumble" sound, like the beat of a death drum. The closer we got to Xishikou, the more crowded the road became. The carriage seemed stuck in a quagmire, unable to move forward. Outside the window, the noisy voices of the crowd surged like a surging tide, wave after wave crashing against the thin walls of the carriage.
"...Shen Qingtian! Why would you frame Zhongliang?"
"Bah! What kind of honest judge is that! You only know a person's face but not his heart! The court has already convicted him!"
"Bullshit! It must be those ruthless people... Didn't you hear the secrets going on in the streets today?"
"Shh! Keep your voice down! You're risking your life!"
"Poor thing... What will happen to Madam Shen in the future... Such a good woman..."
"Wouldn't it be more effective if I dipped the blood of a noble family's son into steamed buns?"
…
Countless voices pierced his ears: sympathy, anger, suspicion, fear... interwoven into a vast, suffocating web. Wen Youqing clutched his sleeve tightly, his nails digging deep into his palms, leaving crescent-shaped blood marks, yet he felt no pain at all.
She pushed open the door suddenly, and regardless of the coachman's exclamations and the maid's attempts to stop her, she jumped out of the almost stopped carriage.
The dark green hem of her skirt stood out against the chaotic crowd, like a fallen leaf caught in a strong wind. She desperately pushed through the dense wall of people in front of her, shoving and stumbling, squeezing forward with all her might.
The discussions, exclamations, and complaints seemed to be separated by a thick layer of glass, blurry and distant. In her world, there was only one goal left - the towering execution platform in the center of Xishikou, emitting the breath of death!
The air was filled with a strange, sickening smell: the sweetness of cheap powder, the sourness of sweat, the faint smell of rotting food... and a more subtle, deeper, rusty, bloody omen.
Finally, she broke through the last barrier of people.
The view suddenly widened.
It was not yet noon, but people had already gathered, like vultures smelling a fishy stench, waiting for the person on the altar to die.
The glaring, pale midday sun poured down unimpeded, like countless cold needles, stinging the eyes. The vast Xishikou execution ground was thronged with a sea of people, a sea of bodies. Countless faces, tilted upwards, merged into a blurry, surging ocean, gleaming with regret, numbness, or a glimmer of eagerness.
And in the center of the crowd, in the middle of the deliberately cleared space covered with dirty straw, stood a makeshift wooden platform.
The platform wasn't high, but it was high enough for everyone to see everything on it. Two stout logs supported a crude frame, and a heavy, broad, ghost-head guillotine, its blade gleaming with a dazzling cold gleam in the sunlight, hung beneath it.
Under the guillotine was Shen Zijie who was pushed onto the stage.
Wen Youqing's breathing suddenly stopped, and her heart felt like it was being gripped and rubbed by an ice-cold hand. She almost bent over in pain.
The executioners were stationed under a slightly elevated canopy to one side of the scaffold. Several figures in crimson or blue robes sat there, expressionless, like clay puppets in a temple.
One of the officers was Lu Zhixue, who was leisurely sipping tea from a gaiwan, his eyelids half drooping, his eyes devoid of any emotion.
The midday sun cuts the shadow of the pergola extremely clearly, and the boundary between light and darkness is like the gap between life and death.
"Two quarters past noon—" A drawn-out, piercing voice cut through the din above the execution ground, carrying a chilling coldness that licked everyone's eardrums like the tongue of a venomous snake. It was the executioner announcing the time.
Time, the sharp blade hanging over our heads, has fallen another inch!
Why hasn't Lu Zhixue spoken yet? Why hasn't the decree come yet?
A chill rushed from the soles of her feet to the top of her head. Wen Youqing felt her vision suddenly go dark and the world was spinning. She staggered and held onto the cold door frame to barely steady herself.
No, that's impossible! The Dali Temple... The Dali Temple took away some of the evidence! She clearly handed it over last night!
But there was a voice in my heart screaming: No! Don't trust others!
That's right! She divided the evidence into two parts last night! She kept the most core, most lethal parts... the ironclad evidence that could directly point to several core family members framing her.
In her arms right now!
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