In Chang’an, there weren’t just one or two Commandery Princes, but many.
But from Zou Han’s tone, the subject of this sentence could only be one person.
Prince Changxiang, Li Chenghe.
Wu Shiqi fell silent for a moment. Then, he dragged Zou Han to a more secluded corner, pressed a hand to his forehead in agony, and said to his friend, "A smelly prison guard like you, with a family to support... you’ve lived all these years without saving any money, and now you want to get involved in something that could get you killed?"
"...I believe Nie Shilei is innocent. He’s a good person; he’s definitely not capable of committing that kind of crime..."
"Have you eaten so many lice in the Ministry of Justice Prison that you’ve gone mad? Or has that fool fed you some kind of bewitching brew?"
Wu Shiqi said angrily, "You’ve been a prison guard for over a decade, hasn’t your heart grown cold yet? You usually wouldn’t even lend me a few strings of coins, but now you’re willing to risk your life for a fool."
Zou Han continued, speaking as if to himself, "...I secretly visited those witnesses before. From their descriptions, the carriage that took Meng Ying away looks very much like the ones from Prince Changxiang’s Mansion. Moreover, the day after the Dragon Boat Festival, the Prince Mansion used the pretext of ’clearing out old items’ to dismantle and burn that carriage, which was still fairly new. The most crucial part is Nie Shilei’s testimony. He said he was led to an alley by a very beautiful woman. Under circumstances he didn’t understand, relations occurred against his will. Afterward, he was knocked unconscious. When he woke up, Meng Ying, lying next to him, was already dead. In his panic, he tried to button up Meng Ying’s clothes. He was captured right then and there."
"So you should have, just now, presented the case details to Young Master Li!"
Wu Shiqi gritted his teeth. "Even if you had evidence, do you think you could use that fool to successfully implicate Prince Changxiang or Jin Wusuan? Besides, you don’t even have any evidence!"
As if drained of strength, Wu Shiqi leaned his head against the wall and sighed deeply. He silently picked up the oil lamp and turned to leave.
Zou Han instinctively took half a step forward and asked, "Where are you going?"
"To copy the case files." Wu Shiqi waved his hand wearily without turning his head and said with exhaustion, "The Ministry of Justice will be holding the trial the day after tomorrow. I’ll sort through all the case details and send them to Young Master Li’s residence, hoping he’ll find it interesting. In Chang’an, only the nobility can contend with the nobility. We’re just rats."
Zou Han watched his friend’s departing figure and fell into silence.
SWISH. He felt a tug on his hand. Zou Han turned his head and saw a small, frail figure pulling at his palm.
It was Nie Yuhuan. The eggshell on her head was gone, her hair looked freshly washed, and she was still carrying that flower basket.
"How did you get here?" Zou Han mustered as kind a smile as he could. Gradually touched by Nie Shilei’s kindness and innocence in the Ministry of Justice Prison, he had begun to see Nie Yuhuan as his own daughter, who had died of illness years ago.
If my daughter hadn’t died, she would be about her age now...
Nie Yuhuan blinked but still said nothing. Holding Zou Han’s hand, she led him to the locust tree in the East Market.
It was midsummer, and the pale white locust blossoms bloomed in dense clusters, adorning the tree branches.
Nie Yuhuan, frail as she was, knelt at the stone base of the locust tree, closed her eyes, and brought her palms together, devoutly praying for something.
Zou Han stood awkwardly to the side. Noticing the curious glances of passersby, he gritted his teeth and decided to kneel beside the girl in front of the large locust tree.
A moment later, a RUSTLE sounded beside him.
Zou Han opened his eyes and saw that Nie Yuhuan had finished her prayers and stood up, holding a small, pale white locust flower in her hand.
She pulled Zou Han’s hand toward her and drew the character for "prison" in his palm.
"You’re going to see your brother again?" Zou Han paused. Seeing the resolute expression on her face, he reluctantly stood up. "The Ministry of Justice holds the trial the day after tomorrow, so it might be difficult to see him. My colleagues at the prison are already unhappy with me..."
Nie Yuhuan quietly pulled out a flying money note for one hundred strings of coins from her bamboo basket and gestured for Zou Han to keep quiet with a "shush."
"Eh? So much..." Zou Han instinctively lowered his voice. "Money. Who gave it to you? A kind person? Heh, some people truly have more money than sense..."
Two sets of footsteps, one heavy and one light, echoed down the cold corridor of the Ministry of Justice Prison, accompanied by the flickering light of an oil lamp.
"Hehe, little miss, come closer, let me get a better look." Tʜe source of this ᴄontent ɪs NovᴇlFire(.)nᴇt
"Here to see your brother again? Haha, he offended Jin Wusuan; he’s going to die this autumn. They might even flay his body, burn it to ashes, and scatter them on that Meng fellow’s grave."
From the cells on both sides of the corridor, the coarse and malicious words of various prisoners rang out.
Zou Han passed through the corridor expressionlessly, his wooden stick "accidentally" striking a hand that was gripping the iron bars, knocking it sharply back.
Nie Yuhuan, however, kept her face tense as she walked to the end of the Ministry of Justice Prison corridor.
Either by good fortune or perhaps due to a noble’s specific instructions, this cell was cleaner than the others in the Ministry of Justice Prison. The floor was covered with a layer of straw, and one could hardly see any bedbugs or flies crawling around.
"Little sister, is... is that you?" Hearing the noise, Nie Shilei dragged his heavy shackles and painfully crawled from the corner of the cell to the bars.
His clothes were tattered, his hair disheveled, and his body was covered in blood-caked scars. A large bruise darkened his face, making his already slurred speech even more indistinct.
Half of these wounds had been inflicted by the constables and Meng Ying’s family on the night of the Dragon Boat Festival; the other half were the result of interrogations and torture during this period.
Nie Yuhuan lifted her frail hands through the iron bars, grasping Nie Shilei’s arm as crystal tears rolled continuously down her cheeks.
"It’s... it’s okay." Nie Shilei comforted his sister cheerfully. "Dad, where’s Dad? Why hasn’t he come? Is he... sick? Is it serious?"
The siblings conversed softly through the iron bars.
It wasn’t until Zou Han faintly heard movement from the dungeon entrance above that he urged them to hurry. Nie Yuhuan wiped her tears and placed the pale white locust flower into Nie Shilei’s hand.
The siblings had grown up together and often communicated through gestures, without needing to write on their palms. Zou Han could only understand a small part of Nie Yuhuan’s signs, like ’locust flower,’ ’keep it on your person,’ ’take good care of it,’ and so on.
A locust tree spirit? Zou Han couldn’t help but shake his head with a wry smile. He recalled the folktale, one that was rapidly fading from common knowledge in the East Market, and sighed silently in his heart as he looked up towards the cold, dark ceiling of the dungeon.
As if trying to see the distant stars through the sunless dungeon ceiling, he prayed: If there truly are gods in this world who protect the common folk, then please, let justice be served in this case.