Wang Daxia ultimately persuaded Ding Rukui to cooperate.
Wei Caiwei prepared a medicinal concoction, leaving Ding Rukui ashen-faced, appearing as though he had succumbed to consumption.
Lu Bing reported his death from illness. Ding Rukui’s execution was delayed for ten years; he did not die by the executioner’s blade but from disease—truly ironic.
When the old fox Yan Shifan heard the news of the death, a weight lifted from his mind, though he could hardly believe it had ended so unexpectedly. He personally went to question Lu Bing. After seven consecutive days of heavy rain, the weather cleared, bringing the crisp and refreshing feel of autumn. With the cool climate, Yan Shifan was finally able to venture outdoors.
Lu Bing had regained movement in the other half of his body, but he still walked with a limp. Yan Shifan, being one-eyed, also had his own impairment. The two made quite the pair of in-laws.
Lu Bing said, "This time, he truly died of consumption. Fearing it might spread, we wrapped the body in bedding and cremated it. Eunuch Mai, the Chief of the Eastern Depot, dispatched the Eastern Depot coroner to examine the body and personally witnessed the cremation before reporting to the palace. If you don’t trust me, Donglou, do you not trust the Eastern Depot?"
To distrust the Eastern Depot was to distrust the Jiajing Emperor—something Yan Shifan naturally dared not do. "Of course not," he replied. "I merely thought that, given his stature, I ought to pay my last respects. I never expected I wouldn’t even get to see him one final time."
These crocodile tears—as if he hadn’t been the one who, three months prior, used Ding Wu to force Ding Rukui to take his own life!
Dead was good. It brought an end to everything—to bearing the blame for his father Yan Song for a lifetime, with no chance of redemption.
Ding Wu never got to see his father one last time; all he saw was an urn of ashes. He emerged from the prison cell and went to a gravesite in the suburbs. The grave had already been dug, and a tombstone was ready and waiting. All that remained was for Ding Wu to smash the burial bowl and inter the ashes.
The burial plot was purchased by Wei Caiwei, who also hired monks and Taoist priests to perform rites for the deceased.
Surprisingly, over a dozen officials who had been close to Ding Rukui during his lifetime came to the graveside. Dressed in plain mourning attire, they saw Ding Rukui laid to rest. Witnessing the former Minister of War given such a humble funeral, each wept bitterly, their tears flowing freely.
Ding Wu did not cry. Like a wooden puppet, he smashed the bowl, placed the urn into the grave, and hastily concluded the funeral. Wei Caiwei settled the remaining payments with the monks and priests.
Throughout the entire process, Ding Wu ignored Wei Caiwei, as if displeased with her handling of the funeral arrangements.
Watching the mourning officials weep and burn funeral orations, he wore a sour expression and sneered coldly:
"Hypocrites. What’s the use of all this now that he’s dead? What did any of you do for my father during the ten years he rotted in the Embroidered Uniform Guard Prison? Oh, there is one thing you did exceptionally well—standing by and doing nothing."
"For ten years, my father endured that prison, and none of you lifted a finger to save him. Now that he’s dead, you put on this act. Isn’t it disgusting? Bunch of hypocrites!"
"And you—who called yourself my father’s prized student. The other day, when I tried to open an apothecary to make a living, you accused me of engaging in mercantile pursuits, sullying my refinement and disgracing the Ding family name. As far as I can recall, since I arrived in the capital, you haven’t given me a single copper coin. Did you think I could survive on nothing but the northwest wind?"
"Can refinement or family honor put food on the table? Can they bring my father back to life? Stop your fake crying and false compassion here. Go home and weep for your own mother!"
Ding Wu’s words were piercing—each syllable a stab to the heart. For every one who wept, he rebuked one; for every pair who wept, he condemned both.He drove away all the officials who had come to pay their respects, with many accusing him of being "a pale shadow of his father," "a tiger father begetting a dog son," "your actions shame your father in the afterlife," and "we heard you're involved with the White Lotus Sect—have you forgotten your father died in prison?" and so on.
Ding Wu, having cast all restraint aside, refuted them one by one: "What tiger father and dog son? If you compare yourself to an animal, don't drag me into it."
"Yes, your next generation is truly remarkable. You betray trust and break promises, and your sons can commit murder and arson. I'm just running a medicine shop to make a living—I'm no match for your sons."
"If I were really involved with the White Lotus Sect, would I have been released from prison to bury my father? You old fool, hearing a rumor and believing it without question—you're so senile you shouldn't be in office anymore. Go home and hold your grandson—oh, wait, make sure you're holding the right one, don't mistake Old Wang's grandson from next door for your own..."
Ding Wu battled the officials with words, not shedding a single tear but wasting plenty of saliva as he cursed to his heart's content.
The mourning officials were so enraged they nearly fainted. They tossed their prepared eulogies into the incense burner and left. Ding Wu snatched the burning eulogies, threw them to the ground, stamped them out, and flung the charred remnants back, shouting:
"You're not fit to send off my father! He wouldn't want to see hypocrites like you who only care about saving your own skins. What, you stood by and did nothing for ten years, ignoring us father and son, and now that my father has died of consumption, you come writing these moving eulogies to show off your literary skills? You're just seeking fame and reputation, not even sparing the dead."
Ding Wu loudly scorned the eulogies. "I'm not moved by you—you just disgust me." He then sneered mockingly, "If you were truly sincere about sending my father to the underworld, what's the use of these pathetic writings? Did any of you bring funeral donations? No, right? Hmph, if any of you gave me a hundred taels of silver as a donation, I'd acknowledge your sincerity. Burn all the eulogies you want—I wouldn't mind a hundred of them. If you're not giving donations, then get lost."
Seeing the once-elegant noble young master turned into a shrewd, unscrupulous rogue, the officials expressed their heartache, unanimously agreeing that Ding Wu had "abandoned himself to degradation" and was "beyond redemption."
Ding Wu grabbed freshly dug grave soil and hurled it at the officials. "You scold me in front of my father—since when did I have so many fathers? Go home and curse your own sons!"
The flying yellow soil forced the officials to cover their heads and flee, vowing never to bother with Ding Wu, this prodigal son, again.
Thus, Ding Wu instantly "became famous throughout the land" in the capital—notoriously so.
But that wasn't the end of it. After the funeral, Ding Wu followed Wei Caiwei back to Tianshui Alley. As soon as he entered, he saw a trunk and two bundles in the main hall—the very items he had brought from Tieling.
Ding Wu said coldly, "What do you mean by this?"
In front of the onlookers in Tianshui Alley, Wei Caiwei struggled to utter the words she had prepared: "Although we are sworn siblings, after all, men and women should maintain boundaries. Before, when you had no home and came to me, I naturally took you in. Now that you have a residence in Headline Alley, it's not appropriate for me to keep you here. You should leave."Ding Wu sneered, "You used to hope that one day my father would be released from prison, restored to his official position, and I would regain my status as an official's son. Then you could become the young lady of a minister's household, dreaming of a sparrow turning into a phoenix. That's why you always indulged me in everything. Now that my father is dead and you've lost that hope, you're driving me away. What a 'loyal and righteous' sworn sister you are."
Wei Caiwei's face turned pale with anger. "If I truly had such ambitions, I would have simply washed my hands of everything after learning of your father's death. Why would I spend money and effort to arrange his funeral?"
Ding Wu dismissed Wei Caiwei's efforts with contempt. "My father was a first-rank official of the court! To have such a shabby funeral—how dare you mention it? You're just seeking a good reputation! Don't you realize that with your current reputation, even building a thousand chastity arches couldn't cleanse it?"
Wei Caiwei's trembling hand pointed at the luggage. "Get out!"
Ding Wu crossed his arms and sat on the Arhat bed. "I'm not leaving. This is my home."
Wei Caiwei picked up a bundle and threw it outside, nearly hitting a bystander. As she was about to throw a second one, Ding Wu grabbed her arm. While they were struggling, Wang Daxia "timely" arrived and pushed Ding Wu down with one palm. "How dare you disrespect Doctor Wei?"
Just as Wang Daxia was about to pounce on Ding Wu, Wei Caiwei stopped him. "Stop! After all, he's my sworn brother. Wrongfully imprisoned and grieving his father's death, he's been acting and speaking like a madman—he's even cursed all the officials who came to the funeral. He's insane now, don't trouble him."
Wang Daxia pointed at Ding Wu. "But he was just rude to you."
Wei Caiwei said, "I don't blame him. No matter what, he saved my life back then. If not for him, I would have died long ago."
Wang Daxia stopped attacking Ding Wu. He carried the other bundle and chest outside, placing them in Sweetwater Lane. He said to Ding Wu, "For Doctor Wei's sake, I won't lay hands on you. Leave on your own."
Ding Wu, who bullied the weak but feared the strong—and Wang Daxia's reputation was even worse than his own—had no choice but to shoulder his luggage and leave. As he went, he declared, "Don't bully the young and poor!"
Wei Caiwei sobbed inside the room—this time genuinely crying, grieving for Ding Wu's self-degradation. Every word she had said earlier stabbed at her heart, leaving it riddled with wounds.
Outside, Wang Daxia mocked Ding Wu, "Twenty-two years old and still calling himself 'young'? I'm fourteen—should I call myself a child then?"
Passersby laughed heartily. The northern city residents certainly loved a spectacle.
Ding Wu didn't dare talk back. Swallowing his humiliation, he dragged his luggage and disappeared from Sweetwater Lane, moving into the unfinished building in Head Lane.
The neighboring Myriad Goods Trading Company had been raided, its door sealed shut. Head Lane was desolate, especially bleak in the autumn wind.
Though acquitted and released, Ding Wu didn't continue renovating the shop. Instead, he set up a mourning hall to observe filial mourning for his father. Occasionally, persistent officials came to pay condolences, but he drove them all away with his venomous tongue and sarcastic remarks.
So this was what it meant to be abandoned by all.
After ten consecutive days of martial law in the capital without capturing the cult leader, restrictions gradually relaxed. The dozen city gates no longer inspected every passerby's travel permits and household registrations, nor did they insist on unlocking and thoroughly searching every chest before allowing passage—only random checks were conducted.A month later, the wanted warrants for White Lotus Sect leader Zhao Quan plastered across streets and alleys had faded under rain, wind, and sun. The portraits grew indistinct, the paste on their backs dried, and one by one the notices were torn away by the wind, shredded into fragments, trampled underfoot by passersby as if they had never been posted at all.
The capital lifted its curfew, and everything returned to normal.
At the Embroidered Uniform Guard Prison, Wu Dianyong finally saw Wang Daxia arrive. Wang handed him a brand-new household register and travel pass. "Though we didn't capture the sect leader, you did assist the Embroidered Uniform Guard in uprooting the main hall and stopping Wang Gong Factory's firearms leaks. Commander Lu recognizes your significant merit—where there's achievement, there must be reward. He's decided to grant you a new identity to start life anew. Follow the righteous path from now on, no more dabbling in crooked ways."
This meant his release!
Overjoyed, Wu Dianyong took the documents and knelt to kowtow to Wang Daxia.
Wang Daxia said, "We're sending you to Yunnan. The White Lotus Sect has no influence in the southwest—you'll live there from now on. You'll just need to report monthly to the Embroidered Uniform Guard's hidden stakeout. No wandering off. Once we've completely eradicated the White Lotus Sect, you may go wherever you wish."
Wu Dianyong ecstatically replied, "Anywhere but prison! I believe the Embroidered Uniform Guard will wipe out the White Lotus Sect within a few years."
Wang Daxia gave him a change of clothes and a pouch of silver. "You'll have to endure one more night in the cell. At dawn tomorrow, escorts will take you to Yunnan."
The next day, Wu Dianyong was indeed released. He begged a razor from his guards, shaving off his conspicuous beard. After a month of prison food without a drop of oil, his once-portly frame had shrunk rapidly. Clean-shaven, he looked like a different person—younger and more handsome.
Only the black mole between his eyebrows was hard to conceal. Wu Dianyong wore a bamboo hat pulled low, following his guards out of Chaoyang Gate. They headed east, from Sanlitun to Wulitun, as human traces dwindled and the path grew wild, nearly vanishing altogether.
Wu Dianyong grew wary. "Sir, have we taken the wrong road?"
The soldier said, "This is the right path—a shortcut. Keep moving!"
Walking ahead, Wu Dianyong grew certain the soldier meant him harm. Glancing back, he indeed saw the man drawing a blade, swinging toward his neck!
Wu Daxia dropped and rolled, dodging the strike. But the soldier advanced again with raised steel. Closing his eyes in despair, Wu Dianyong awaited the blow—yet it never fell. Instead, he heard a dull thud.
Opening his eyes, he saw a long blade protruding from the soldier's chest, its tip dripping blood.
The soldier dropped his weapon and collapsed, revealing Ding Wu standing behind him with a travel pack.
It was Ding Wu who had run the soldier through from behind.
Ding Wu said, "Having worked with Wang Daxia so long, I know their methods. They're experts at burning bridges after crossing the river—draining your usefulness then eliminating you once you're worthless. They'd never feed an idle mouth. Who knows how many unjust souls the Embroidered Uniform Guard has buried in these wastelands of Wulitun."
Author's Note: This chapter gifts 200 red envelopes, wishing everyone a happy weekend. Ding Liye abandons light for darkness, becoming Lu Miou's... informant.
The difference between "informant" and "lover" is just one character, so the Parrot CP's relationship has already advanced by leaps and bounds (tongue-in-cheek).
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