Chapter 67#

The night deepened.

The sounds of runners from the yamen grew more frequent, torches darting like fireflies through the streets and alleys.

Hoofbeats would suddenly approach, then fade into the distance. Looking out, the government offices were ablaze with light, bright as day.

The interrogation was forced to stop; continuing would risk revealing their whereabouts.

Shen Zhi ordered the guards to take Liu Kangren to the side room where Six Monkey had once stayed to rest, and, to prevent any trouble, did not remove his shackles.

Liu Kangren returned to his own residence, lying on the cold bed, staring at the changed room, tossing and turning, unable to sleep.

He wondered how things were in the capital now, and how his parents would react when they heard that he had knowingly broken the law.

He was truly unfilial. After his second brother died, he should have been the one to uphold the Liu family’s military legacy, but his talent was limited. Though he had tried his best, he had still utterly failed.

For ten years, he had not returned home, not fulfilled his filial duties in front of his parents. And now, the next news he sent was that he had committed a capital crime.

His elder brother had been bedridden for years, and now he himself was about to die. How could his father and mother bear such a blow?

Liu Kangren couldn’t help the tears staining his collar, his emotions a tangled mess.

But at this moment, his only comfort was that he had told them everything about the situation in Mianzhou.

He became increasingly convinced that Vice Director Wen was indeed acting on imperial orders to completely eradicate the long-standing problems in Mianzhou.

Otherwise, why would Vice Director Wen and that prince, with such esteemed status, humble themselves to spend several days crammed together on the narrow bed in his master bedroom?

Though his own fate was uncertain, a sliver of comfort welled up in Liu Kangren’s heart.

The hour of Yin had arrived. Occasionally, a flash of firelight flickered across the window paper, casting the room into alternating light and shadow.

Wen Zhuo lay still on the bed, fully clothed, already able to imagine how frantic Lou Changsui must be right now.

With the city-wide search underway, the Liu residence might not remain hidden for long. Fortunately, their investigation into Mianzhou was already showing results. The only troublesome matter was Liu Kangren.

Keeping him alive was a problem, but letting him die would be an injustice. Wen Zhuo found himself unsure how to handle him.

If not for this constraint, he could reveal his identity right now, rush straight to the government office, and investigate the discrepancies in the old household registers and land acreage records.

“Your Highness,” Wen Zhuo called out softly.

He wasn’t sure if Shen Zhi was asleep, but he himself couldn’t sleep and longed for someone to talk to.

“Hm?” Shen Zhi, eyes closed and breathing steadily, answered immediately.

“Do you know that verifying land and population data is extremely time-consuming and labor-intensive?” Wen Zhuo turned on his side, his tone turning serious. “We are short-handed now. Even if we summon the disaster relief troops from Xingjing and Jingzhou, a full investigation will still take three months.”

He hadn’t contradicted Shen Zhi in front of Liu Kangren earlier to save Shen Zhi’s face. In private, as his teacher, he didn’t need to hold back as much.

Shen Zhi suddenly let out a soft laugh and forced his eyes open. “A full investigation can be done slowly, but to verify whether Liu Kangren is telling the truth, we don’t need to go to that much trouble.”

“Oh? What do you mean?” Curiosity piqued, Wen Zhuo instinctively turned his head, accidentally bringing his cheek close to Shen Zhi’s.

Shen Zhi took the opportunity to pull him closer by the back, lowered his head, and gently pecked his cool cheek before speaking leisurely, “Sampling survey.”

Wen Zhuo: “?”

His cheek still held the warmth of Shen Zhi’s lips. Having been kissed so often lately, he felt more and more undignified in front of Liu Qiying and Jiang Mannü. He wanted to warn Shen Zhi to show some restraint, to keep his promises—for instance, if he lost a game of chess, he shouldn’t find other excuses.

But his curiosity about Shen Zhi’s plan was too strong. Ignoring the sudden intimacy, he pressed, “What is a sampling survey?”

“Food is the primary necessity of the people. Everyone needs to eat, and to cook, they need a stove.” Shen Zhi had been on the verge of sleep but now forced himself awake, though he still explained patiently. “Take Liangping County as an example. We first randomly select thirty households, count the number of stoves and the actual number of people in each household, and calculate an average. This tells us roughly how many people each stove in the area can support. By simply counting the number of chimneys in Liangping County, we can estimate the actual local population. Then, comparing this with the official household register, we can see at a glance how many unregistered people there are.”

He paused, patting Wen Zhuo’s back as he continued, “With this error ratio, we can then extrapolate the true population of other counties. It won’t be perfectly accurate, but with Mianzhou’s population reaching a million, a small margin of error is acceptable.”

Wen Zhuo listened intently, his mind working hard to follow Shen Zhi’s reasoning. Though he couldn’t grasp every term, he broadly understood Shen Zhi’s meaning.

“The same logic applies to the land,” Shen Zhi’s voice grew lower, his speech slower. “Again, we take thirty households. We count the number of able-bodied males between sixteen and sixty in each household, calculate the proportion of males in the population, and thus estimate the total labor force of Liangping County. From that, we can infer the maximum acreage of land this labor force could cultivate.”

“Then, we find an experienced incense grower and ask about the annual yield of a single storax tree. We obtain the annual sales accounts from the incense merchants, and from that, we can work backward to estimate the total area planted with storax trees in Mianzhou.”

“If the total area of storax tree plantations, plus the farmland area recorded in the land registers, far exceeds the acreage that the local labor force could cultivate, then the registers must be false. The actual amount of farmland is far less.”

Wen Zhuo listened, feeling a sudden clarity and relief.

This way, there was no need for a full investigation to expose the flaws. It saved time and effort and was exquisitely clever.

Shen Zhi’s insight into the practical governance of the realm was truly impressive.

A subtle pleasure arose in Wen Zhuo’s heart. He was so moved that he wanted to lean in closer, to be kissed again.

But when he looked up, Shen Zhi had already closed his eyes again, his breathing long and even. Only the hand resting on Wen Zhuo’s back occasionally patted gently, as if offering comfort.

“Is Your Highness asleep?” Wen Zhuo whispered, propping himself up on the bed, hovering near Shen Zhi’s face.

This time, Shen Zhi didn’t hear him.

“Is Your Highness trying to lull your teacher to sleep?” Wen Zhuo glanced sideways at the warm hand on his back, a smile involuntarily curving his lips.

Though he couldn’t see clearly in the dark, he could easily imagine that hand—large enough to span his waist.

During these nights sharing a bed with Shen Zhi on the journey south, he had stopped curling up to sleep as he used to.

Shen Zhi wouldn’t let him lean against the cold wall. Sometimes he would softly tell him to turn over and sleep against his chest.

Fortunately, Shen Zhi’s chest was broad and steady, radiating a comforting warmth. After a brief adjustment, Wen Zhuo had fully accepted it and slept soundly every night.

Thinking of this, his heart stirred. He carefully shifted his body, moving so gently he was afraid of making a sound.

Wen Zhuo cautiously, slowly pressed close, brushing his lips lightly against Shen Zhi’s warm mouth, like a dragonfly skimming the water.

His cheeks were slightly warm. He was satisfied.

Then he lay down, found a comfortable position, nose close to Shen Zhi’s, breathing the same air, and quickly closed his eyes.

The sky looked like the belly of a fish, suddenly slit open by a knife, instantly revealing a cold, pale light.

The dark clouds scattered. The full moon, slow to react, still hung awkwardly in the sky.

Liu Kangren had already risen, kneeling in the courtyard.

The wind and dew in the courtyard were still wet, and the cold seeped into his bones. He wore only a thin prison uniform, but he still tried his best to straighten his back.

About two-quarters of an hour later, the door creaked open. The first person to walk out was Shen Zhi.

Liu Kangren’s eyes snapped up, and he froze. It wasn’t the Wise King!

When he was exiled to Mianzhou, only the Wise King and the Crown Prince in the capital had reached the age of twenty; the other princes were still young. The youth before him had deep-set features, a tall, straight figure, with a natural, casual elegance. Yet he was nothing like the Wise King’s deliberate kindness. Who was this?

Though far away in the borderlands, Liu Kangren had vaguely heard that since the Fifth Prince, Shen Zhi, returned from Nanping, he had made a stunning debut at the Special Grace Banquet, founded the Meng School, earned the title “Go Sage,” and was rising in prestige at court.

His father had written once, mentioning that the Fifth Prince’s stature and bearing subtly resembled the founding Emperor’s.

A fearful premonition seized Liu Kangren. His blood nearly froze, and he stayed rooted to the spot, trembling with anxiety.

Seeing the man kneeling in the courtyard, Shen Zhi was momentarily startled. Then, his casual demeanor vanished. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, expression cold, letting him kneel.

Consort Liang’s pain of separation from her son, Shen Zhi’s decade of suffering as a hostage—all were connected to Liu Kangren. He deserved to kneel and atone.

The dawn light gradually brightened, casting Liu Kangren’s face in a sickly pallor, his lips cracked, as if he might collapse at any moment. Only then did Shen Zhi finally speak. “Lord Liu, why put yourself through this? I never asked you to kneel.”

Liu Kangren silently bowed his head, his voice rough as if scraping gravel: “This guilty subject deserves this.”

Shen Zhi stepped forward, looking down at him from above, and said in a deep voice, “But still, kneeling to me is only fitting. Rise.”

“Your Highness is… the Fifth Prince?” Liu Kangren’s body trembled violently. His heart twisted into a knot, words failing him.

Though his father and the Marquis of Yongning often clashed politically, each keeping their distance, military commanders felt a sense of mutual respect. He never wished to bring such ruin to the Marquis of Yongning’s family. Towards Shen Zhi, he felt only shame and remorse.

Liu Kangren hunched his back, lowering himself further, wishing he could press his head into the dirt. “Your subject… back then… the defeat at the southern border was a capital crime!”

“Honestly, you should have died to atone for that defeat. It’s a pity you didn’t.” Shen Zhi’s words were spoken lightly, but they carried immense weight. Shifting his tone, he continued slowly, “But now you’ve stumbled into this chaos in Mianzhou, risking your life to keep the people alive for four months. Your resolve hasn’t changed. So, I’ll let bygones be bygones for now. Rise.”

The last two words were emphasized. Liu Kangren’s nerves tightened. Feeling an undeniable pressure, his limbs moved faster than his mind. Flustered, he scrambled to his feet.

Just then, Wen Zhuo lazily climbed out of bed, washed his face, tied up his black hair, and walked slowly out of the room.

Shen Zhi turned around. His previously cold gaze instantly softened. He quickly tapped his own shoulder, signaling that Wen Zhuo’s robe wasn’t properly arranged.

Wen Zhuo parted his lips slightly, understanding immediately. He reached up and pulled the robe that had slipped off his shoulder back into place, smoothing it flat.

A faint warmth was flowing through the air when a sudden, abrupt rustling sound came from the backyard.

Everyone was instantly alarmed, on high alert, and turned to look.

A small, agile figure rushed from the direction of the dog tunnel, stumbling, his face terrifyingly pale, and lunged recklessly at Shen Zhi.

“Six Monkey!” Shen Zhi recognized him first.

Six Monkey gasped for breath, his fingers gripping Shen Zhi’s sleeve tightly, his voice choked with tears and extreme fear. “Bad news! Bad news! Zhiwa’er she…”

Wen Zhuo’s eyes sharpened. He quickly signaled, and Liu Qiying, reacting swiftly, immediately brought a bowl of warm water.

Six Monkey couldn’t care less. He gulped down several mouthfuls before finally steadying his breathing.

“Take it slow, don’t panic.” Shen Zhi crouched down to look Six Monkey in the eye, his tone exceptionally steady.

Liu Kangren stood to the side, watching a youth suddenly burst into his courtyard, acting so rudely, grabbing at the Fifth Prince. He was somewhat bewildered.

But he also realized this must be serious, so he held his breath and listened.

“Zhiwa’er is gone!” Six Monkey sobbed, half from grief, half from sheer terror. “Big Brother and I followed the plan and sold ourselves to the shop near Wangtiangou. We agreed to meet at the bank where I first escaped within five days at most. But they took me to Dongyazi, and I searched everywhere, but I couldn’t find Zhiwa’er! Not only her, but several other kids I recognized were all gone!”

“So I started asking around. But everyone I asked said they had never seen Zhiwa’er. Also, they hadn’t seen Bai Xiaogou or Zhang Ergeng. Bai Xiaogou was the boss among us, and he’d been in Dongyazi for so long, how could no one know him?”

Shen Zhi’s brow instantly furrowed into a tight knot, his heart sinking like a stone.

He had thought it was just child trafficking. Now it seemed the situation was far more serious than he had anticipated.

“I couldn’t find Zhiwa’er, so I figured I should at least finish the task you gave me: count how many kids were there.” Six Monkey wiped his face with his sleeve, still reeking of river water and fish, his hands trembling slightly. “I secretly smeared yellow clay on my hands and marked each kid I saw on their clothes, to keep from miscounting. But there were too many. Afraid I’d miss some, the next day I came up with another trick.”

Six Monkey continued. “This time I tricked them into playing a game. I had them smudge mud prints on me, one print per person. But when I finished counting… there was one less person than the last time!”

Shen Zhi suppressed the unease rising in him. “You might have miscounted the first time.”

“Wrong! Absolutely wrong!” Six Monkey’s voice suddenly pitched higher, his eyes wide. “In those two days, another ten or so kids were brought in! Even if I’m an idiot, I couldn’t mess up the count that badly! I was stunned. Where did those extra kids go?”

Liu Kangren, listening nearby, felt a chill run through him and couldn’t help shivering.

“What did you find out later?” Shen Zhi held Six Monkey by the shoulders, his tone growing heavier. He could feel the boy trembling through his fingertips.

Six Monkey pressed his lips together tightly before forcing out through clenched teeth. “On the third day, about ten more kids arrived. I decided to count again. I was halfway through when the people from the Wen family came to deliver food. I stared at their boat, and suddenly noticed the waterline was perfectly even, and the hull had a dark stain from the water. That meant the boat’s load never changed! The amount of fragrant food they delivered daily was fixed, yet not a single kid in Dongyazi went hungry. So, the Wen family knew all along that no matter how many kids were brought in, the number who stayed to eat was always the same!”

Wen Zhuo’s eyes flickered with surprise.

This Six Monkey, despite his small size, had such a sharp mind, catching the anomaly from the boat’s details. He was truly a promising talent.

“On the fourth day, I started watching the guards during meal distribution.” Six Monkey’s voice dropped, carrying a hint of lingering fear. “When they handed out food, they would always ask, ‘Any stomachaches today?’ I thought it was concern at first, and always answered loudly, ‘No.’ But that day, a little girl next to me was shaking as she held her bowl, her face pale as paper, saying, ‘My stomach really hurts.’ Then those guards laughed and said they’d take her to see a doctor soon.”

“I remembered her face. She never came back. Before I went to sleep that night, I checked everyone again. The number still hadn’t increased.” At this point, Six Monkey clenched his fists tightly. “So I guessed, anyone who said their stomach hurt never came back!”

Wen Zhuo said in a low voice, “There’s something wrong with the food Wen Yingjing gives you, isn’t there?”

Six Monkey nodded vigorously, goosebumps rising all over his body. “The food smells incredibly good. So good you can’t help wanting to eat more. I liked it too. But the first time I was in Dongyazi, Bai Xiaogou always stole my food, so I often went hungry. Plus, I missed my mother. That’s why I secretly ran away…”

Shen Zhi said softly, “So, by a twist of fate, you managed to escape that fate.”

“On the fifth day, I saw another boy with a stomachache. He was in so much pain he was sweating, couldn’t even eat.” Six Monkey suddenly looked deeply grieved. “I lied to him, said, ‘You can’t tell the truth, or the Wen family will think you don’t like the food and won’t give you any more.’ He believed me and held it in. But by night, he was dead.”

“When they found him, his body was already cold, his hands still clutching his stomach tightly. I took the chance when the guard wasn’t looking and felt his belly. It was hard as a rock, like there was a stone inside!”

“The guards found him and dragged him away, telling us, ‘If you feel unwell, be sure to say so. The Wen family has a doctor.’ But I knew they were lying!” Six Monkey’s voice twisted with anger.

“On the fifth day, I dared not wait any longer. I planned to escape that night. I squeezed through a narrow gap in the fence and had just reached the riverbank when I heard noises nearby. I hid behind a tree and watched. They took a knife, cut open the boy’s belly by the shore, and took out a round object the size of a palm. Then they kicked the corpse into the river. It floated away with the current and soon disappeared…”

At this point, Six Monkey could no longer hold back. He cried silently, his hands clutching Shen Zhi’s sleeve desperately. “Zhiwa’er must be the same! She must have died long ago! They took whatever it was from her belly and threw her into the river!”