Chapter 38: Garlic White Meat (Part 13)
Having served at the Ministry of Justice for so long, Leng Yue had never received a visit from a capital official in the middle of the night during any festival, let alone one who brought their entire family, including two children who could barely speak clearly.
Aside from the two children, the seven or eight family members all wore troubled expressions, whispering among themselves about something unknown. A young woman around Leng Yue's age was nestled beside the frowning Madame Jing Zhaoyin, weeping as if her heart would break.
The scene looked unmistakably like someone coming to file a complaint.
The victim was likely this young woman.
Therefore, Leng Yue firmly believed this couldn't possibly be about her.
"Deputy..."
Leng Yue had just come to a stop, not yet having raised her hands in greeting, when the young woman—who moments earlier had been crying so hard she seemed unable to stand—suddenly became possessed. Releasing Madame Jing Zhaoyin's arm, she charged at Leng Yue in one swift movement.
"I'll tear you apart, you shameless creature!"
Leng Yue frowned slightly and quietly sidestepped just as the young woman's nails were about to scratch her face.
Missing her target, the young woman lost her balance and stumbled forward, nearly falling face-first onto the ground. Without moving her upper body, Leng Yue leisurely raised her foot to block the young woman's slender waist, lifting her up as effortlessly as scooping noodles.
After the young woman steadied herself using Leng Yue's straight, raised leg, the previously clamorous family fell silent except for the children's frightened cries.
"Look carefully." Leng Yue calmly lowered her leg—which had been raised almost parallel to the ground—stood straight with knees together, tightened her abdomen, and deliberately straightened her chest. She said softly to the young woman who had been shocked into forgetting her tears, "I'm not Fourth Young Master Jing. I have shame."
Looking at the stunned young woman's incredulous expression, Leng Yue felt somewhat vexed.
I'm never wearing men's clothing again...
"Lord Minister," Leng Yue politely clasped her hands toward the still-dazed Jing Zhaoyin, "Jing Yi drank too much tonight and currently isn't capable of coherent speech. If there's anything, you can tell me."
Before Jing Zhaoyin could speak, the young woman—tear stains still on her peach-blossom cheeks—seemed to suddenly remember why she had come. Raising her delicate jade-like finger and glaring with almond-shaped eyes, she pointed directly at Leng Yue's nose. "It's you I'm looking for! You shameless creature... return my husband to me!"
The young woman was petite, while Leng Yue stood nearly a head taller. Without needing to look up, Leng Yue could see over the young woman's smoothly combed hair to clearly view the other people in the reception hall.
Besides the elderly Jing Zhaoyin and his wife, there were two middle-aged couples. When Leng Yue first entered the hall, these four had been glaring at her arrogantly, but now they had all shrunk behind the Jing Zhaoyin couple—either looking down at their feet or up at the ceiling, none making a sound.
The Jing Zhaoyin couple also wore complicated expressions, both frowning with pursed lips, neither speaking.
Only the two children, tugging at Madame Jing Zhaoyin's clothes, cried more pitifully than the rain outside.
Leng Yue withdrew her gaze and slightly bowed her head, looking calmly at the young woman who seemed to hate her to the bone but didn't dare touch her again. She said composedly, "I only have one husband, for my own use. I can't give him to you."The young woman choked back a sob, her delicate fingers trembling like tender scallion roots. Tears welled up and rolled down her cheeks, yet she couldn't utter a single word. Instead, Jing Zhaoyin cleared his throat, his round face as rigid as a mooncake, and spoke in his usual bureaucratic tone, "Chief Constable Leng, didn't you personally promise to solve the corpse dissection case within three days?"
Leng Yue furrowed her brows slightly.
She thought that if Jing Zhaoyin's face were truly a mooncake, it would definitely be filled with mixed nuts.
"That's right, I did say that."
The mixed-nut mooncake narrowed his eyes slightly and spoke slowly with weighty emphasis, "Tomorrow is the third day. Chief Constable Leng, as a woman, I wonder if your word can be trusted?"
Leng Yue's brows tightened further.
She could have immediately and politely told Jing Zhaoyin that the case had been taken over by Prince An's estate, and the three-day deadline was her promise to Prince An—it truly had nothing to do with a mere Jing Zhaoyin.
But she had a strange feeling, as if this group of people had temporarily gathered together with three different purposes.
The young woman was here to settle scores with her.
Jing Zhaoyin and his wife were here to cause trouble for her.
As for the rest...
At this moment, they seemed more like they had come to amuse themselves with her.
Aside from filling a carriage to save on two extra tips for the coachman, Leng Yue couldn't think of any other reason for them to appear before her simultaneously.
As Leng Yue pondered this, she hesitated for a moment.
In that moment of hesitation, she heard a voice tinged with a hazy drunkenness.
"Lord Sima, the way you ask that... You've married a whole basket—no, a whole steamer—wait, not that either... a whole stack, yes... a whole stack of wives, and you still don't know whether a woman's word can be trusted?"
Leng Yue turned around in surprise to see Jing Yi staggering out from behind the screen at the side door of the parlor.
Before she came, she had clearly asked Uncle Qi to watch over him in the room...
Seeing him sway unsteadily, Leng Yue hurried over to support him. Before her hand could even touch Jing Yi's arm, he sidestepped, avoiding her grasp, and stumbled toward Jing Zhaoyin and his wife, who were choking with fury. He slapped Jing Zhaoyin's shoulder several times, nearly knocking the somewhat portly official off his feet.
"Lord Sima, rest assured... Even if all your wives' words are worthless, my wife's word is trustworthy... Rest assured!"
For a moment, Leng Yue felt a pang of worry.
She worried that Jing Zhaoyin's wife, whose face had already turned eggplant-purple with rage, might suddenly lose control and strangle him.
Jing Zhaoyin used all his strength to push Jing Yi's hand off his shoulder. Jing Yi staggered unsteadily for a few steps. Leng Yue darted to his side, about to steady him, but Jing Yi promptly shifted away again, leaning against a pillar in the hall to steady himself without even glancing at Leng Yue.
Leng Yue hadn't even managed to touch a corner of his robe.
Leng Yue froze in confusion.
Was Jing Yi...
Angry with her?
Was it because of that "shameless" remark, or the "doesn't speak like a human" comment, or the "leave him to his own devices" one...
No matter which one it was, on ordinary days, Jing Yi would at most laugh it off without a care. But when someone drinks too much, it's hard to predict what their temperament might become.
Haven't there been plenty of cases where perfectly proper people inexplicably commit crimes after getting drunk?Leng Yue's thoughts were still fixed on Jing Yi when the Jing Zhaoyin straightened his official robe—which Jing Yi had slapped into several creases—and said with a dark, round face, heavy and slow, "Lord Jing... out of respect for Prince An and Grand Tutor Jing, I would very much like to believe Constable Leng keeps her word. But this villain, flouting the law, has dared to threaten the gate of my official residence. How can I trust you?"
Jing Yi seemed not to have processed it immediately. A layer of bewilderment surfaced over his already flushed face. "Huh... Huh?"
Leng Yue understood.
The moment she grasped it, she blurted out, "Your son died?"
The two couples hiding behind the Jing Zhaoyin and his wife simultaneously darkened their faces, as black as the things Old Madam Jing fried in oil.
Before the Jing Zhaoyin could speak, the young woman whom Leng Yue had nearly forgotten suddenly seemed to have received a cue. She plopped onto the ground, wailing and howling to the heavens, "My poor husband... It's all because of you, you shameless thing! What business does a woman have taking up official duties? You may not care about face, but we still value our lives! If my master had been the one to capture this villain, would my husband have suffered like this? Give me back my husband!"
Leng Yue frowned.
Listening to these women who had been cooped up in their households for too long was exhausting. This young woman had wailed for so long, yet only one useful point came through.
She was a servant of the Jing Zhaoyin's household, and the deceased was her husband.
Leng Yue glanced up at the sky.
The third watch had just passed.
This timing...
Was too early.
As Leng Yue's mind churned with numerous and tangled clues, she saw Jing Yi flit like a ghost to the young woman's front. He moved so swiftly that he stumbled slightly when stopping, his body swaying, making Leng Yue's heart lurch and her train of thought snap.
Jing Yi stood before the sobbing young woman, hands behind his back, bending slightly at the waist, squinting his eyes. He watched until she could no longer cry, then suddenly burst out laughing, "So it turns out you stole my wife's face... With a face as thick as yours, aren't you hot?"
Leng Yue didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
The young woman, however, resumed wailing, her cries shaking the heavens.
"Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry..." Jing Yi waved his hands repeatedly, his smile reeking of alcohol. After waving, he straightened up and pointed at the couple hiding behind the Jing Zhaoyin and his wife. "If you keep crying, your lovers will feel heartache..."
Leng Yue froze.
Lovers... plural?
The young woman's cries cut off abruptly. Her teary eyes widened as she stared in horror at the impossibly handsome drunk before her.
After a moment of dead silence, the two previously silent women exploded like thunder, roaring as they pummeled the men beside them. Their shouts overlapped, and Leng Yue only caught the first few lines clearly—the gist was that they finally understood why their men had suddenly become so righteous and volunteered to stand up for a servant.
"Stop it... Stop it!"
In the end, it was Jing Yi who raised his voice and quelled what should have been a fight to the death."Look, everyone look..." Jing Yi put on an expression of admiration that Leng Yue had never seen before, waving his hand and pointing at the Jing Zhaoyin's wife who stood silently aside with a distressed face. "Look at the Sima's wife—this is what refinement means, this is what it means to be a lady from a noble family... You're all from the same household, eating the same food, wearing the same makeup, and your husbands even fancy the same maid. How come the gap between you and the Sima's wife is so vast..."
Before the Jing Zhaoyin's wife could grasp the meaning, the Jing Zhaoyin's face stiffened, and he said sternly, "Lord Jing is drunk and speaking nonsense. I won't take it to heart... This maid Qinghe is the lawful wife of Du Zhong, our third steward. Du Zhong has served our household loyally for many years, and now he has met with such a tragic fate—lying dead before the Jing Zhaoyin's residence on the Mid-Autumn Festival. Are my family and I not allowed to come and cry out for justice on his behalf?"
Before the Jing Zhaoyin finished speaking, Jing Yi was already nodding repeatedly. "Yes, yes, yes..."
As he spoke, Jing Yi turned and walked back to the young woman, bending his knees and sitting cross-legged on the ground. He propped his elbows on his knees, cupped his cheeks in his hands, and stared intently at the young woman who sat slumped on the ground, her face streaked with tears. "Go on, cry out. I'm listening carefully..."
The young woman opened her mouth, then opened it again. For a long while, she couldn't utter the word "injustice" that was already on the tip of her tongue.
"I, I..." The young woman couldn't hold back any longer. She scrambled to her feet, rushed to the Jing Zhaoyin's side, grabbed his arm, and burst into loud sobs. "I'm not pressing charges anymore! Master, I'm not pressing charges... Let him stay dead if he's dead. You said yourself he deserved to die. I don't want to be a concubine anymore, and I don't want the children I bore for the two young masters either. I'm not pressing charges..."
The expressions on the faces of the Jing Zhaoyin's family were somewhat complicated.
"What nonsense are you spouting..." The Jing Zhaoyin pried the young woman's hands from his arm, forcing himself to maintain a stern expression. "Anyway... this villain has already trespassed at the gates of the Jing Zhaoyin's residence. If Constable Leng fails to capture this scoundrel by midnight tomorrow, don't blame me for submitting a memorial to the palace requesting that Constable Leng return home to tend to her husband and children."
Watching the Jing Zhaoyin lead his family away into the distance, Leng Yue truly didn't feel any resentment toward him.
Those who are detestable can sometimes be quite pitiable.
Leng Yue sighed softly to herself, then gently walked over to Jing Yi, who was still sitting cross-legged on the ground. She half-knelt, reached out, and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"I'm sorry."
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