Chapter 24#
The Marriage Certificate (1)#
Le Wuya’s networking efforts had yielded remarkable results.
Prefect Lü regarded him favorably and granted every request he made without exception.
With no one to hinder him, Le Wuya moved with lightning speed, issuing one order after another in rapid succession, leaving everyone dazzled.
The Xiaofu Coal Mine was raided, rescuing a total of 132 out of town miners.
Of these, about fifty to sixty percent were deeply homesick and eager to return.
Le Wuya returned the travel documents that had been confiscated, reissued those that were lost, and allocated a portion of the silver seized from the Chen residence to make up for the wages they had been owed for years, calculated at the rate of local day laborers.
A few miners, newly freed and seeing the magistrate’s lenient demeanor, couldn’t help but harbor crooked thoughts, hoping to squeeze out more compensation. They falsely claimed their tenure at the Xiaofu Coal Mine by six months to a year.
But Le Wuya had prepared for this. He had already obtained the miner roster from Lu the Chief Steward.
To facilitate management and prevent miners from escaping, Lu had recorded each miner’s name and the date they entered the mine in detail.
With a kind face, Le Wuya singled out these lying miners and invited them for a day trip to the prison, to see for themselves the miserable state of the overseers—both the high and low—who had once oppressed them.
After they left, Le Wuya slapped the roster in front of them and warned, “The mine is still there. If you’re willing to work here a while longer, that’s perfectly fine.”
The miners were common folks who had only dabbled in petty cunning; their nature wasn’t inherently bad.
What they had feared most were the fierce overseers at the mine. One word from the magistrate, and those men were thrown into prison, left to await their fate.
If Le Wuya could deal with them so easily, wouldn’t crushing these few be as simple as stepping on ants?
Thoroughly frightened, they begged for mercy, weeping and swearing they would never dare again.
A few others who had been tempted to exploit loopholes, seeing that the magistrate was sharp-eyed and not easily fooled, reluctantly gave up the idea.
Le Wuya ordered them to return home in groups but also kept a contingency plan.
Money often stirred people’s hearts. The miners, carrying silver on their journey home, needed to guard against both external thieves and internal treachery.
To prevent robbery or murder sparked by greed on the road, Le Wuya summoned Assistant Magistrate Sun and Section Clerk Duan from the Revenue Office.
They had to bring in each miner one by one and ask them to choose: either carry all the money on their journey, or take only a portion for travel expenses and deposit the rest in a nationwide chain bank called Changyuan, where they could issue a draft. The draft would be sewn into their clothing for easy carrying, and they could withdraw the money at a city near their hometown upon arrival.
If they chose the latter, they needed detailed instructions on how to cash the draft and where the nearest Changyuan branch was located.
This task was physically and mentally draining. Even just explaining to the miners that “the bank won’t embezzle their money” was a major undertaking.
As Assistant Magistrate Sun’s eyes began to blur from overwork, Le Wuya tucked his hands into his sleeves and headed to the prison.
Last time, when the Jixiang Gambling House was sealed, many gamblers remained unransomed. Now, with the entire Chen family thrown in, awaiting judgment, the prison population had swelled.
Le Wuya strolled around and felt it was a waste of food to let these able-bodied men rot in prison.
So, with a flourish of his brush, he decided to have them work outside.
Hearing they could leave the prison, the inmates grew restless.
Once under the open sky, wouldn’t they have the chance to fly high and free?
Especially the gentlemen led by Squire Chen, who had lived a life of luxury for decades. After being forced to eat prison rations for a few days, they were in agony. The news revived their spirits considerably.
Even being able to send a message outside would be a blessing.
But when they learned what they were to do, the inmates were stunned.
Le Wuya had come up with a notoriously harsh method: make the prisoners clean out all the ditches and drains in Nanting County.
Such filthy, grueling work was nearly impossible to hire people for, even at high prices.
In a remote county, ditches and drains were uniformly foul and moldy.
Many people, for convenience, would dump garbage and excrement into these channels.
Even in winter, when the filth froze, passersby would hold their noses.
After a summer rainstorm, the stench on the streets was so bad it felt like someone had died inside your nose.
In his previous life, Le Wuya had been tasked by heaven to patrol the realm and knew that many great plagues originated from these inconspicuous ditches.
Water contamination and mold growth—weren’t they lethal?
Merely keeping the streets clean and free of beggars was like polishing a donkey turd—only the surface looked good. It was useless.
Le Wuya planned to make full, practical use of these prisoners. Anyone who committed a crime in Nanting County, big or small, would first serve a term of hard labor.
The prison was funded by the people’s taxes, so the inmates couldn’t just lie around with their bellies up, stealing from the taxpayers.
Tasks like pounding rice or repairing city walls didn’t fully utilize their potential.
Le Wuya intended to test this approach with this group first.
Other officials preferred stability, fearing prisoner escapes, but he wasn’t afraid.
He had considerable expertise in prison management.
Le Wuya boldly borrowed Pei Mingqi’s influence, having soldiers armed with bows supervise the prisoners’ labor.
The prisoners were divided into groups of ten, tied together at the waist with hemp ropes. The knots were tied in some special way, interlocking so that if one tried to run, everyone would be entangled.
Even if all ten conspired to flee, the rope would prevent them from getting far.
Moreover, they were so drenched in stench that they’d be found anywhere they went.
Le Wuya also linked the minor offenders, like gamblers, with the heavy offenders of the Chen family. He encouraged informants: if they reported any attempt by the Chen family to send messages, they would be exempted from labor and have their sentences reduced.
Though the townsfolk didn’t yet grasp the deeper significance of Le Wuya’s actions, just watching the once-pampered Squire Chen bent over, digging trash out of the ditch, was amusing enough.
With so many eyes watching, even if Squire Chen wanted to pull some tricks, he couldn’t.
Day after day, wearing a cangue and stooping to fish out filth from the ditches, even the more robust overseers couldn’t take it. After two days, they all feigned illness, refusing to go.
For those who played dead, Le Wuya had his methods.
He announced: if any group failed to collect enough filth by weight after a full day’s work, the entire group would go without food.
After two days of hunger, no one dared play tricks under Le Wuya’s watch.
If someone in the group worked too slowly, they’d be scolded and blamed by the others.
Whatever master-servant loyalty had existed quickly dissolved after days of hard labor and short rations.
After being kicked twice by the servant who used to wash his feet, Squire Chen came up with a new idea.
He gathered a few confidants and pointed out that there were some sharp stones in the ditch.
He suggested that two people start a quarrel, even a fight, to distract the supervising soldiers. Meanwhile, the others would cut the ropes and scatter.
But his plan failed before it even began.
The next day, Le Wuya shuffled the groups, so no one knew which group or which ditch they’d be assigned to.
Squire Chen felt that for every move he made, Le Wuya had a countermove. He had no choice but to retreat and endure the hard labor.
Remembering the delicacies and fine wines of just days ago felt like a past life now.
After finishing his day’s labor, Squire Chen lay in his cell, tears streaming down his face. Seized by poetic inspiration, he picked up a small piece of red brick and tearfully inscribed a poem on the wall. But he was caught by a yamen runner for defacing the prison and was thoroughly scolded. He had to sheepishly wipe it off with a wet cloth.
After assigning the prisoners their tasks, Le Wuya finally turned his attention to Squire Chen’s mansion.
All available manpower had been focused on the Xiaofu Coal Mine; now that was settled, it was time to raid and inventory the Chen residence.
The raid was ordered by the imperial envoy, with full authority given to Pei Mingqi’s deputy.
Pei Mingqi enforced strict discipline. His thirty soldiers stripped down to their bare skin in the freezing cold, leaving only their undergarments, to ensure they couldn’t hide anything before being allowed into the Chen mansion.
Soon, the courtyard was piled with furniture, jewelry, silver notes, letters, chests of antiques and paintings, and stacks of property deeds stored in ornate boxes, casually placed in the center.
Soldiers bustled about, carrying items.
Le Wuya had been on the receiving end of a raid in his past life and never got to enjoy such a spectacle.
Now, with a chance to watch the excitement, his old habit kicked in. Pretending to be on official business, he strode solemnly into the mansion, touching this and that.
When Pei Mingqi entered, he saw a group of soldiers busily working, bare-chested, their bodies steaming with effort. Only Le Wuya, in his immaculate official robes, stood under the eaves, toying with a jade abacus.
Seeing this, Pei Mingqi felt inexplicably irked.
He strode over and snatched the abacus from Le Wuya’s hands.
Le Wuya was marveling at the extravagance of this single abacus when it was suddenly taken. Startled, he turned to see Pei Mingqi’s cold face.
Le Wuya: …Scared me to death. Damn it, you.
Pei Mingqi’s rudeness was partly a test of Le Wuya’s abilities.
In his memory, Le Wuya was as alert and agile as a small animal, instantly sensing anyone approaching.
Not to mention, he had practically worn down the walls of Pei’s mansion climbing over them.
But for Le Wuya, that was ancient history—eight hundred years ago.
One was in the capital, the other guarding the border.
Pei Mingqi only knew that Le Wuya had been struck by arrows and barely survived, but he didn’t know that his lung meridian had been damaged, affecting his internal organs, and that he had long neglected his martial arts skills.
Le Wuya suppressed the urge to kick him. “General Pei, what are you doing now?”
Pei Mingqi made small talk: “Wenren Mingke, you’re quite idle.”
Le Wuya: “…?”
Le Wuya: “Fine, General. Then I’ll get back to work.”
As soon as Le Wuya turned, Pei Mingqi reached out and swept him away.
His technique was so smooth, so agile, that Le Wuya wondered if he was a bandit rather than a soldier.
Even kidnapping a wife for a mountain stronghold wouldn’t be this seamless.
Le Wuya fumed, “General Pei, what are you doing now?!”
Seeing the man was as stubborn as a mule, he switched tactics: “Fire—”
Pei Mingqi covered his mouth directly.
The soldiers, all elites under Pei Mingqi, didn’t pause or look.
Le Wuya, with no one to answer his calls, was forcibly carried to a bedroom.
Pei Mingqi tossed him onto the bed and got straight to the point: “I checked your birth date. It’s February second. Am I right?”
Le Wuya stared at him for a moment, then smiled faintly.
The smile made Pei Mingqi’s heart tighten with anxiety.
He grabbed Le Wuya by the collar of his official robe and pulled him close. “…Why did you lie to me?”
Le Wuya had been thinking for days and had already formed a plan.
That he was alive was no coincidence.
And Pei Mingqi clearly knew about his rebirth.
What had he done? Was there a third person aware of this?
Had he fully inhabited Wenren Yue’s body? Were there any side effects? Could he suddenly leave one day?
How to conceal his identity and pry useful information from Pei Mingqi—that was the top priority.
Le Wuya put on an aloof demeanor and looked up at Pei Mingqi.
His irises were a tea-brown, kestrel-like color.
Over the past two days, Le Wuya had thoroughly studied Wenren Yue’s body from head to toe. He noticed that apart from his hair becoming noticeably curlier, the overall changes seemed to have stalled. His eye color hadn’t changed much—under sufficient sunlight, Wenren Yue’s original hue was still visible.
Only in dimmer light could a hint of deep purple be seen.
However, the shape of his eyes had subtly shifted, with the corners slightly elongated, giving a hint of roving affection. Occasionally, when he smiled, the bags under his eyes appeared.
Le Wuya guessed that this change was like a dyeing process that would slowly alter his appearance imperceptibly. Unless someone knew him extremely well, they wouldn’t notice, probably just thinking he had matured.
But close acquaintances would be hard to deceive.
“General Pei, you ask a good question.” Le Wuya turned the tables. “I happen to have a question for you as well. General, don’t you know why I’ve become like this?”
Seeing Pei Mingqi’s confusion, Le Wuya said coldly, “I wasn’t like this before. But on the night before my nighttime interrogation, changes started happening to me.”
Pei Mingqi: “You mean…”
“At first, I thought my hair was curly because I hadn’t had time to groom it due to busy casework. But after bathing, it remained the same. As for the small mole on my lip, I assumed it was from rising internal heat, but it hasn’t faded over time. I was already suspicious, and then you, General, started poking around my birth date for no reason. I didn’t want to tell you, but you insisted on finding out. That certainly raised my suspicions…”
Le Wuya, with the same authority he showed in court, continued: “Before we met, General, we had never seen each other. Yet from our first encounter, you repeatedly harassed me, overstepped your bounds, and tested me with words…”
“I dare to speculate—are you practicing some sorcery or curse? Did you lose something important on me? And is the reason for the loss related to my birth date? Am I right?”
Pei Mingqi’s worst fears were confirmed.
He said hoarsely, “Then you really were born on February second?”
Le Wuya nodded frankly. “Yes, so what?”
Pei Mingqi felt a blow to his chest, a tearing pain.
Wuyu’s soul was truly in this man’s body!!
When Daoist Lu had given him the small sandalwood burner, he had warned that everyone has their fate; gathering residual souls and forcibly extending life was an act against heaven.
For each day he nurtured a residual soul, the karmic debt would fall on him, costing him three days of his own lifespan.
Pei Mingqi didn’t care about the cost. He asked woodenly, “What do I do when his soul is fully nurtured?”
Daoist Lu hesitated, looking guilty. “When the soul is complete, he… he will naturally be reborn. In the next life, all karmic ties will be erased. He won’t recognize anyone from this life.”
He said, “Maybe let this go. It really shortens your lifespan. I’m not lying.”
Pei Mingqi: “Thank you for the warning. I don’t care.”
Seeing that Pei Mingqi had made up his mind, Daoist Lu didn’t argue further but added, “If the burner cracks, he is not meant for you. Don’t force it.”
Pei Mingqi carefully tucked the small sandalwood burner into his chest. “Why would it crack?”
Daoist Lu vaguely replied, “Naturally… because he has found another destined person.”
On the day the small sandalwood burner shattered, Pei Mingqi wasn’t sad. He just kept mulling over the Daoist’s prophecy from years ago, in a daze.
Who was meant for him? Who wasn’t?
The other soldiers didn’t know what the small sandalwood burner was; they only knew it was Pei Mingqi’s most precious treasure. When it inexplicably broke into pieces, they didn’t even dare breathe loudly, carefully avoiding him, afraid of being kicked.
The only confidant, the deputy, knew it contained Le Wuya’s soul.
He had been curious once and peeked through the burner’s cracks, but inside was empty.
Seeing Pei Mingqi look as if he had lost his own soul, the deputy’s heart ached. He cursed the accursed Daoist for probably having no real skill, just playing tricks.
He tried to console Pei Mingqi, telling him not to think so narrowly—the world was vast. Why fixate on just Le Wuya?
Pei Mingqi didn’t think he was thinking narrowly.
Far from it; the more he thought, the more furious he became:
Aside from himself, who else dared to be “destined” with him?
Seething with rage, he had the Sixth Prince’s foster brother, who served in the army, send a message to the informed Xiang Zhijie.
Then, on orders, he came to Nanting and unexpectedly ran into Magistrate Wenren on the street.
Was this his new “destined” person?
Wenren Yue had no connection to Le Wuya. Not a single similarity. The only thing that made Pei Mingqi think of “destiny” was his birth date.
Upon investigation, sure enough, aside from the year of birth, they were both born on the second day of the second month, the Dragon Head Festival! And the birth time was almost certainly the same—both at youshi double-hour!
Now, Wenren Yue’s words further confirmed his guess.
The thought that Le Wuya had merged with this man made Pei Mingqi’s insides burn. He wanted to grab Wenren Yue by the throat and make him cough up Le Wuya’s soul.
But Pei Mingqi had to forcibly suppress his anger.
He needed to stabilize this man first, then slowly figure out how to extract the little crow’s residual soul.
Perhaps he had already failed, but he wanted to keep that last shred of hope.
With that in mind, Pei Mingqi pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his chest and threw it in front of Le Wuya.
Le Wuya saw something written on it in bold, swift strokes.
He had a bad feeling. “What’s this?”
Pei Mingqi gritted his teeth: “My birth date!”
Le Wuya: “?”
“I’ve already checked—you’re not married yet.” Pei Mingqi said. “We will exchange marriage certificates right now! You stay by my side, and you’re not going anywhere!”
Le Wuya: “…”
As far as he could tell, the thing that appeared beside him today wasn’t a phoenix; it was a bird-brain.