Chapter 109: The Song of the Wordless Stele (Part Two)

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Di Renjie wavered.

He originally did not believe anyone would willingly die without reason. In his eyes, those who came at this moment to kill and silence witnesses were merely trying to muddy the waters, to confuse his investigation. He believed that by remaining steady and uncovering the truth, no matter how cunning the villains, they could not escape justice.

But the three assassins before him, once captured and subjected to severe torture, stubbornly refused to utter a single word.

Di Renjie was not squeamish; as long as the cause was just, he did not mind employing dark methods himself. He began by probing their accents, twisting and turning through questioning, and even threatened their families to extract information. Yet to his surprise, these men were fiercely resolute; they sneered coldly and simultaneously bit their tongues to commit suicide right under his watch. The blood sprayed all over his face.

Taking a handkerchief from a subordinate, Di Renjie slowly wiped the blood away and ordered, “Bury them with honor.”

Their dignified death convinced him of their sincerity in refusing to betray their cause.

“Prefect, repeated acts of sabotage—destroying evidence, killing, burning ships—does this not prove that the injured survivors from the two fires are telling the truth?” The assistant magistrate asked cautiously, eyes flickering.

“Not at all,” Di Renjie shook his head, walking out of the interrogation chamber with his hands behind his back, speaking bluntly. “Although Wu Yanxiu and Wu Yizong hate these two men and have set traps to frame them, they desire their deaths even more. If these two men die, there will be no witnesses, and the entire dirty scheme can be firmly pinned on them.”

“Then, shall we simply wait for them to make a mistake?” The assistant seemed relieved.

“Hmph, it’s not that simple,” Di Renjie smiled wryly and shook his head. “Effective immediately, the Supreme Court’s forces will split into three: one to monitor Wu Yanxiu and Wu Yizong and their households, one to protect the two injured survivors, and the third will accompany me to investigate the origins of these assassins.”

“Prefect, is that proper?” The assistant hesitated. “Wu Yanxiu is still unmarried, and his residence is the same as Wu Nayen’s. This—”

“Heh heh heh, you think too much,” Di Renjie chuckled leisurely, but when his smile faded, his brows furrowed fiercely. “I hold the imperial mandate and carry the authority of the law. No one is beyond investigation. If you lack the courage, then step aside and let someone else take your place.”

“Subordinate dares not disobey and will follow orders,” the assistant bowed hastily, his heart pounding.

The Supreme Court’s elite were all deployed. Only a stooped middle-aged clerk and a dozen officers dressed in black followed Di Renjie.

“Prefect, these men are dead. Do we need a coroner?”

“Enough. Let them rest in peace underground; no need to torment them further. Every person leaves a trace of their origin,” Di Renjie said enigmatically, waving his hand. He then led the group to the wild fields in the western outskirts where the three assassins had been caught. He questioned a pursuing officer while absentmindedly picking up a dry twig to trace the assassins’ escape route on the ground. Their path was strange—initially fleeing east, but before crossing the eastern side of the Luo River, they suddenly turned sharply westward in a frantic dash.

“These three little thieves are truly despicable, treating our Supreme Court men like monkeys to be led around,” the officer spat in anger.

“Hmph hmph hmph,” Di Renjie chuckled twice. “Did you still have the leisure to lead monkeys while running for your life?”

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The officer pondered. “What does the Prefect mean?”

Di Renjie said no more, instead circling several markets along the east bank of the Luo River on the ground, including Shanglin Ward.

“Let’s go. Revisiting old grounds, then to the painted boat by the Yi River,” Di Renjie said with a light smile. Upon arrival, he changed his approach and dismissed the officers around him. His next task was oddly specific.

“Search around. Who lost a vegetable basket yesterday? Anyone who can specify the exact time of day will be compensated at market price. This offer is valid for only one day, no extensions.”

The news spread, but by midday no one came forward. After all, the Yi River scenery was exquisite, and the nearby wards housed wealthy merchants and high-ranking officials; no ordinary vendors or farmers could afford to live there.

Di Renjie was not anxious. He camped by the Yi River, savoring a small dish of salted soybeans along with a pot of Jian Nan Shao Chun wine. This spirit came from a small place in the Jian Nan region, discovered and brought to the capital by a powerful patron. It was rare outside the eastern capital and Chang’an and expensive. Di Renjie was frugal in most things but treasured this fiery liquor, disregarding the ever-growing paunch it brought him.

“Sir, someone in my family lost a vegetable basket…” At last, after noon, a visitor arrived—a farmer from the southern outskirts of Luoyang.

Di Renjie greeted him warmly and kindly. After a few words, it was clear the man was not the right person, but still, he gave him fifty strings of coins.

The clerk watching nearby showed some discernment, realizing the farmer was unrelated to the vegetable vendor who died by self-immolation. He questioned Di Renjie’s generosity.

“Funds taken from the people, used for the people. What is improper about that?” Di Renjie sipped his wine, which was pungent yet mellow and invigorating.

“Prefect is right,” the clerk admitted sheepishly.

Soon after, several more people arrived. Di Renjie compensated them all, varying the amounts inversely with their appearance—the finer their clothes, the less he gave.

“Yesterday noon, a man in green clothes with a small hat was robbed of his vegetable basket,” one visitor said. He was not dressed like a vegetable seller.

“Where are you from? What is your occupation? When were you robbed? How was the robber dressed?” Di Renjie questioned carefully.

“I am from Shanglin Ward, a servant, not a vegetable vendor. Yesterday I bought vegetables to take home but was robbed by a man in gray clothes, dark complexion, barefoot. Luckily, my master was kind and did not punish me,” the man in green scratched his head thoughtfully as he recounted.

“Good, thank you. Here, take a hundred strings,” Di Renjie smiled as usual, showing no change in expression, giving the man the richest compensation yet.

“Everyone, it is worrisome that someone is targeting the livelihoods of Shanglin Ward’s residents. Issue orders to investigate the markets around Shanglin Ward. Report any unfamiliar men who frequently carry takeout boxes or cooked food to me immediately.”

At Lijing Gate, Hou Sizhi reported everything to Quance, who was not impressed.

“That man acts erratically and without method. He focuses on trifles and misses the point—he is no one who will succeed.”

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Quance smiled bitterly. “Brother Hou, your chance to make a name is right before you. Keep your eyes on the Supreme Court and on Di Renjie. When he moves to seize someone, strike first. You will catch a big fish.”

Upon hearing this, Hou Sizhi raised his eyebrows, nodded, and whispered, “My marriage will be settled soon. I’m counting on you to be the matchmaker.”

“Heh heh,” Quance laughed. “Brother Hou, too many matchmakings may not bode well for your own marriage.”

Hou Sizhi laughed heartily. “With your talent and looks, even women would be blind not to marry you. Any man who marries you will be lucky.” Feeling pleased with his wit, he laughed all the way out the door.

Quance sat silently for a long while, his heart heavy with bitterness and a tangle of thoughts.

For his own sake, so many had died again. Forsaking the Dance of the startled swan, breaking ties with the Wu family, he had fallen like white dew. Who knew how many plum trees would fall this time?

Late at night, outside a nondescript residence in Shanglin Ward, groups of black-clad officers gradually gathered.

Di Renjie sat in a carriage at the street corner, eyes half-closed. Over these days, he had locked down the residence, tracked movements, and quietly questioned neighbors. He had finally confirmed that this place was a den of thieves.

“Prefect, we have surrounded the place on all sides. Requesting orders,” the assistant magistrate asked.

“Storm it with me. We must capture a live one…” Before Di Renjie finished, shadows suddenly leapt onto nearby walls and rooftops. Ominous voices echoed, “Lijing Gate investigating. Bystanders stand clear!”

“Clang clang clang,” the clash of weapons rang out inside. The two sides were already engaged in close combat.

Di Renjie waved his hand, and the Supreme Court officers kicked open the gate, only to face a dozen gleaming horizontal blades blocking the way. Lijing Gate’s men were already stationed at the entrance, determined to prevent the Supreme Court from interfering.

Di Renjie’s fury surged, his beard twitching fiercely. “Good thieves, good thieves indeed!”