Chapter Twenty-One: Honeyed Words

The Zhen family's influence in Hengzhou was not something to be taken lightly. Even officials as lofty as Magistrate Wen would make a personal visit to their door upon assuming office; this had become a rite of passage, a task required of any county magistrate before he could establish himself. Without it, one could hardly gain a foothold in the county.

Since the incident with Zhen Qian, Magistrate Wen had felt pressure from all sides. The clerks beneath him obeyed his orders in name only, and this left him unsettled and helpless.

“Sit! Bring tea!” he commanded.

Magistrate Wen’s gaze swept over Zhen Qian’s face, puzzled as to the purpose of his visit, and so he began conversing idly.

Zhen Qian was in no hurry, expressing continual gratitude for the magistrate’s fair judgment in the past. His stated purpose was simply to thank Wen for his impartiality, which only deepened the cloud of suspicion on Wen’s face. Yet Zhen Qian had not come empty-handed; he brought gifts in appreciation, further arousing Wen’s suspicion, leaving him to wonder what scheme Zhen Qian might be plotting.

“When you traveled to the capital for the imperial examination, I personally held a send-off for the talented sons of Hengzhou like yourself. Do you remember?” Wen asked.

“Not at all!” Zhen Qian thought inwardly. If he truly remembered the life of the other Zhen Qian, would he still be so passive in the Zhen residence? Sensing the conversation drifting too far afield, he quickly regained control: “I’m here today to thank you for your just handling of the case. Once I’ve recovered, I’ll invite you to a banquet.”

“Very well! Then you should get some rest.” Their exchange was nothing but pleasantries, touching on nothing substantial. Yet Wen felt a vague unease, refusing to believe Zhen Qian would visit for no reason.

“I’ll take my leave,” Zhen Qian said.

Wen opened his mouth, then swallowed his words. Was he being paranoid? “Take care.”

Zhen Qian bowed, “Please stay, Magistrate Wen,” his gaze drifting over the official documents on the table. Suddenly, he said, “I’ve just remembered something. May I speak?”

Wen laughed inwardly; Zhen Qian was still young, unable to restrain himself at last. Aloud, he said, “Speak your mind.”

“Well…” Zhen Qian looked troubled. “I now hold an official post, but I know nothing of the affairs at court. Might I borrow the county’s official gazettes for a look?”

“So that’s what this is about?” Wen chuckled to himself. If Zhen Qian were an ordinary citizen, he could deny the request outright. But Zhen Qian, as the legitimate eldest son of the Zhen family and now an official, was entitled to read the court gazettes. “Ah, so that’s your request. How long do you wish to borrow them?”

“Would it be possible to start with the gazettes from ten years ago?”

“What—ten years?” Wen was startled, but, recalling his earlier promise, he realized the duration was Zhen Qian’s own affair. No need to worry on his behalf. “No matter! I’ll have a clerk take you to the archives. Just don’t lose or damage them. If you wish to keep the records, you may have them copied.”

“Thank you, Magistrate Wen!” Zhen Qian showed no sign of leaving, his face shifting between light and shadow as if struggling inwardly, hesitating to speak, rather like a constipated man.

“Is there something else?” Wen prompted.

Zhen Qian hesitated, then said, “In the city of Zhendeng, you are praised as ‘Blue Sky Wen,’ a just official, upright and incorruptible, unafraid to speak truth to power. The people sing your praises, and I’m sure you’ve heard as much yourself.”

Wen’s mouth turned bitter; he didn’t know how to respond. If he denied hearing such praise, it would suggest Zhen Qian’s words were hollow and that he was not a clean-handed official—a humiliation for someone so proud. Yet admitting it felt insincere. He was caught between conflicting impulses.

Fortunately, Zhen Qian spared him further embarrassment, sighing lightly, “To me, you are indeed the embodiment of integrity. Today, passing through the marketplace, I overheard some people discussing you. I thought they were offering praise, but instead, they were criticizing you as muddle-headed, careless with human lives, indifferent to truth. I argued with them, but after hearing their words, I was left speechless, indignant yet unable to retort…”

Wen’s face darkened as he slammed the table in anger. “How can you believe the words of ignorant commoners? Slandering officials should earn thirty strokes of the cane!”

Zhen Qian quickly agreed, “Exactly! You are a shepherd of the people—how can the masses judge your merits? But gossip spreads like wildfire; if such talk reaches the Prefect’s ears, it could be disastrous for you.”

Wen was greatly irritated, about to order the arrest of the culprits, but thought better of it. With so little evidence, relying on Zhen Qian’s word alone might be reckless. Who could say if it wasn’t some plot by the Zhen family?

Suppressing his anger, he asked, “What were they saying about me?”

Seeing that Wen had taken the bait, Zhen Qian feigned difficulty. “You may not know, but I suspected someone was maligning your reputation. I asked where they’d heard it, and they claimed you knowingly sentenced Song Yi to death despite his innocence, saying you must have accepted bribes from the plaintiff.”

At the mention of Song Yi’s case, Wen’s expression turned cold. He knew he had not erred in that matter and was not afraid of slander.

“What did the people say about the case? Tell me.”

“I heard them discussing Song Yi’s case. I defended you, but they argued: the victim dined at Song Yi’s restaurant with others—why was only the victim affected? If Song Yi had poisoned the food or made a mistake, why did no one else suffer? Isn’t this obvious?”

As he spoke, Zhen Qian watched Wen’s face, noting his changing expressions. Realizing he’d touched a sensitive nerve, Zhen Qian pressed further, “Song Yi and the victim were strangers, with no enmity, yet the victim died after dining. I too found it odd, unable to make sense of it, but concluded the food at Song Yi’s restaurant must be innocent. Thus, the victim must have eaten something else after leaving, causing his death…”

Having served as an official for over a decade, Wen understood these matters even better than Zhen Qian. He recognized the truth in Zhen Qian’s words and snorted, “What do commoners know? Song Yi admitted the victim dined at his restaurant, and after leaving, he went straight home. Unless at home…”

Wen’s words trailed off as he stared at Zhen Qian, his eyes suspicious, suddenly realizing he’d fallen into a trap.

During the trial, Wen had considered this angle, but the victim’s family vehemently denied it, and lacking evidence, the blame fell on Song Yi. Now, Zhen Qian had coaxed his own thoughts into the open, and Wen felt trapped. “Song Yi could not prove his innocence, the victim did dine at his restaurant, and the coroner confirmed the death was caused by food. Is this wrong?”

Seeing Wen reluctant to admit fault, Zhen Qian knew not to press further. If he forced the issue, Wen, so proud, might ignore the truth even if it were laid before him, and might vent his anger on Song Yi’s family.

Zhen Qian laughed, “You are just and discerning, Magistrate Wen. It’s only that the victim’s family was too cunning, seeking to entrap you. But the law is far-reaching—no fox can escape your scrutiny. I heard the victim ate lamb and flatbread at Song Yi’s restaurant. If another food is found in his body, wouldn’t that prove Song Yi’s innocence?”

Wen was unfamiliar with such investigative methods and hadn’t considered it. He frowned, “You mean the victim ate poisoned food at home, and it remains in his body?”

Zhen Qian’s task was merely to guide Wen; such matters must be spoken by Wen himself. If another voiced it, it would only make him look foolish and force him to cover his pride with further mistakes.

“It’s just a conjecture, Magistrate Wen. Human life is precious—one must be cautious.”

“Summon the coroner!”

Wen, proud as he was, detested deception. The thought that he might have been duped by the victim’s family not only threatened his reputation but made him a laughingstock. He was furious.

Soon, a man in a black robe entered, uncertain why he had been summoned. He was the county coroner, and though he had met Zhen Qian before, the difference in their positions had prevented conversation. Now, seeing Zhen Qian standing beside Wen and recalling yesterday’s visit from Zhen family’s Wang You, his heart raced.

“I ask you: in the Song Yi case, besides lamb and flatbread, was any other food found in the victim’s body?”

The coroner’s heart sank; seeing Zhen Qian’s ambiguous smile, cold sweat broke on his forehead. Remembering Zhen family’s involvement, he grew more fearful and immediately recounted everything he had told Wang You the previous day.

Wen slammed the table in fury, “You fool! Why did you not report such an important detail sooner? Must I ask you myself?”