Your Son Is in My Hands

"Who was that?" "Technically speaking, he's supposed to be your subordinate." "Never heard of him, and I don't know him." Now came the crucial question: "If these crimes weren't yours, who forced you to confess?" "The day after I was thrown into the dungeon, someone came in with one of my son's toys and coerced me into confessing," Fu Songhua said. "If I refused, my son was dead. I made that toy with my own hands; I recognized it at a glance." He let out a breath and said dejectedly, "Assassinating Zhang Guangyi back then was already a capital offense. Tacking on a few more charges doesn't make much difference—how many times can you forfeit one life anyway? So long as they didn't hurt my boy." He Lingchuan offered timely reassurance: "Your son is in my hands right now. He's very safe." Uh, why did that sound a little wrong? Fu Songhua's cheek twitched as well. "That person wasn't Zhongsun Mou?" "No!" Fu Songhua shook his head. "I didn't recognize him." Just as expected. "After that, the man rehearsed my testimony with me," he continued. "He said I was going to Lingxu City to stand trial, so I had to memorize every single line until it rolled off my tongue without the slightest mistake." "Was there anyone else in the prison at the time? A head jailer, or other cellmates?" "No, it was death row—I was the only one held there. Once I memorized the confession, he left. I didn't hear him talking to anyone, but there was the sound of keys at the door—the kind of rattling jingle from a big ring of keys. Someone must have unlocked it for him. Half a day later, the Inspector had me transferred to the inn and kept under guard." "This person wanted you to confess to being a spy and take the blame for ambushing and killing the courier?" "Yes, and he fabricated all sorts of details for me." Fu Songhua gave a bitter smile. "Truth be told, anyone with a poorer memory wouldn't have been able to memorize it all. It was far too elaborate." He Lingchuan retrieved paper and brush prepared in advance from his storage ring. "Write the confession down." He personally ground the ink for Fu Songhua. At this point, Fu Songhua did not refuse, his brush flying across the page. A little over a quarter of an hour later, he finally stopped. "Done." Six full sheets of white paper, densely covered in small characters. "Now write down everything that has happened to you over the past few days." Fu Songhua wrote another half sheet. Then he bit his fingertip and pressed a bloody thumbprint onto every single page to seal it. He Lingchuan gave him a thumbs-up. "Your memory really is something." He blew the ink dry and tucked the papers into his robe. "Remember, don't mention a word about this to anyone." He had rented this room beforehand precisely for this purpose. "Besides, as you know, I came to investigate the murder of the Lingxu City courier. You and that eastern imperial eagle might have no connection, but you and the true culprit behind the scenes might cross paths in some way." Fu Songhua's expression shifted slightly, and he sighed. "After all this talk, you still don't believe me." "It has nothing to do with trust. Even you might not be aware of this connection. Otherwise, with so many people hiding their identities in Baishaqu, why did they pick you of all people?" "I..." "Intelligence we gathered elsewhere also points straight to the northwestern part of Baishaqu. In other words, the real culprit might be living right near you." Fu Songhua caught on to what he meant. "You mean the real culprit also lives in the northwest of the city, but tailored all the evidence specifically for me?" "They must have recognized long ago that you were an imperial fugitive on the run, but held back from reporting you. That way, if an incident ever came to light, they could divert all the trouble onto you and use you as a scapegoat!" He Lingchuan had also read Fu Songhua's confession; the evidence crafted by the mastermind was so tight and thorough that even he felt a chill reading it, and every strand pointed squarely at Fu Songhua. Had he not been personally involved in the incident, he would have believed it just by reading the confession. If the prisoner and the physical evidence were sent north together like this, even the presiding magistrate far away in the capital would be hard-pressed to find a flaw. Besides, Fu Songhua already had a prior record and a history as a spy, making it all too easy to nail him down as the primary culprit. He Lingchuan knew full well that to make one lie appear seamless, one might need a hundred more lies to cover it up. This was a systemic undertaking, exhausting time, effort, and possibly even lives. Thus, designating Fu Songhua as the scapegoat was never a spur-of-the-moment whim, but a meticulously calculated move. "Do you know the dignitaries and wealthy magnates who live in the northwest of the city?" "I do." Fu Songhua was a fugitive, after all; getting to know his surroundings was an essential skill. "There are seventeen noble and influential households, mostly retired officials from the Chiyan Kingdom, but also prominent figures from other vassal demon kingdoms and even Lingxu City. As for the wealthy, there are far more—forty-seven households, scattered across the area. Some are ordinary merchants like me, while others are prominent government-sanctioned merchants." Wherever the high society gathered, local officials and merchants, both great and small, would flock there as well to network and conduct business with ease. Besides, being able to move into the wealthy district was a status symbol in its own right. "There are too many suspects. Can you help me filter them down?" He Lingchuan asked him. "Who do you think it could be?" Fu Songhua pondered for a long time, then shook his head. "I never had deep dealings with any of them." "All right, then..." Suddenly, Fu Songhua recalled another detail. "Wait, the man who came to coordinate the confession with me had a square face, thick eyebrows, and looked to be in his early thirties." He Lingchuan said bluntly, "Half of Baishaqu looks like that." "That face was indeed utterly unremarkable, but I noticed some pollen clinging to the brim of his hat. A rat jumped in by the window and startled him. When he adjusted his hat, a few specks of pollen fell to the floor. Later, I picked them up." He Lingchuan waited, knowing Fu Songhua wouldn't bring this up for no reason. "It was oleander pollen," Fu Songhua said slowly. "There are plenty of oleanders in Baishaqu, but they all grow along the eastern shore of Blue Lake." "Blue Lake is in the northwest corner of Baishaqu?" "That's right." He Lingchuan nodded. "Write down the noble and wealthy households living east of the lake too. Better yet, sketch a map to mark them." Fu Songhua did as he was told. His drawing skills were on par with He Lingchuan's—both were true abstract artists. Under his brush, the so-called "Blue Lake" was just a squashed oval with a chunk missing from the top left, and the residences around it were merely little circles with surnames written inside. The important thing was the orientation and layout; no need to obsess over details. "Not bad. Over sixty suspects likely down to twenty-two just like that," He Lingchuan said with a chuckle. "You've saved me a lot of trouble." "Twenty-two is no small number either. How are you going to investigate them?" "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." Fu Songhua put down the brush. "My son..." He Lingchuan put him at ease. "Once the spy charge against you is cleared, you'll be able to see him." Fu Songhua gave him a suspicious look. "You defied the Inspector—it wasn't just to clear my name, was it?" "Of course not." He Lingchuan patted his shoulder. "Don't flatter yourself." "By the way, why did you assassinate Zhang Guangyi in the first place?" At least this major crime was undisputed, and Fu Songhua had not denied it. "When he was an official in my hometown, he caused the death of the entire village, including my parents and uncles. Who would have thought a man like that could keep rising through the ranks? If the heavens wouldn't take him, I would!" Speaking of this, Fu Songhua's expression grew conflicted. "I originally thought I'd just stay on the run for as long as I could, but the authorities never tracked me down. Instead, General Hong Chenglüe was dragged down because of me. Later on, I unexpectedly had a son... Sigh..." Looking at He Lingchuan, he couldn't help but ask out of curiosity, "How did you find my son?" "You often visited Shalun Town under the pretext of buying lacquer supplies, and you always stayed at the same inn. So, I had my men ask around near the inn to see if there was any widow within a li or two who was pretty, wealthy, and had a boy under nine years old. After all, you weren't married yet when you went on the run. "With such specific criteria, it didn't take long to narrow it down." Fu Songhua wondered, "How did you know the boy's mother was pretty, and that she was a widow?" "Would you have taken someone who wasn't pretty? Besides, wealthy women generally aren't bad-looking." "..." "Would you tolerate her raising your kid and spending your money while sleeping with another man?" He Lingchuan smiled. "She had to be a widow—at least ostensibly." "...Why did she have to be wealthy?" "A young, poor widow in a small town—what kind of predicament would she face, and what vile filth would she be subjected to? Having grown up in the countryside, you of all people should know, shouldn't you?" He Lingchuan raised an eyebrow. "Money is the simplest and best shield." Fu Songhua was stunned for a long while before letting out a soft sigh. "Impressive... I did hire a few demons as guards for her, but they could only deter the crude louts in town; they couldn't stop people as sharp and deliberate as you." *** The special envoy of the Chiyan Kingdom had already vanished like the wind. Commander Lu cupped his hands to Zhongsun Mou and said, "Pardon the offense, but we are also carrying out official duties." With that, he led the Chiyan soldiers away from the inn, rushing off toward the county yamen. The County Magistrate of Baishaqu dared not stay behind and hurried along with them. The courtyard was suddenly left empty and quiet, save for trampled doors, mud, and broken branches strewn across the ground, and other guests peeking out inquisitively from outside. Zhongsun Mou's face was livid, fury practically erupting from his eyes. Where on earth did Fu Shanyue find a subordinate like that? With a wave of brazen troublemaking, the man had completely thrown the plan into disarray. He ordered his guards to watch the doors closely, stepped into the inner chamber, and closed the doors and windows tight. Walking over to the washstand, he tossed a pale-blue crystal into the washbasin. The crystal dissolved the moment it touched the water, dyeing the entire basin blue. Zhongsun Mou muttered an incantation under his breath and stirred the water with his hand. When the surface settled once more, the water turned colorless again, yet the reflection in the basin was no longer Zhongsun Mou. It was another person's face. This Water Mirror Technique allowed Zhongsun Mou to hold a brief conversation with someone within ten li. Though it had various limitations and lasted only thirty breaths, its strength lay in its security and secrecy. Far outside, perched high on a branch, a goshawk stared intently in this direction with piercing eyes, but Zhongsun Mou had not stepped out of the room at all. He said to the person in the mirror, "A special envoy sent by Fu Shanyue came out of nowhere, talked Fu Songhua into turning against us and retracting his confession, and snatched the man away. He's now having him taken to the county yamen for retrial, bent on pursuing the courier's murder to the very end." Time was precious, so he spoke at a rapid clip. The person in the mirror was shocked. "How could you let him!" "He mobilized the local garrison. This matter won't be so easy to handle anymore." Had this been Lingxu City, Zhongsun Mou could have had that little wretch killed a hundred times over. But in Baishaqu, he only had a dozen-odd guards at his side; when it came to sheer force, his fist simply wasn't as hard as the other side's. As for his status as an Inspector—if the other party was prepared to risk being flayed alive afterward, what did it matter whether they respected it or not?