Chapter Seventy-Two: Confession

“Where did you get so much silver?” Sun Jiu’s eyes widened as he recognized the value on the banknote. “Is recruiting patrons that lucrative these days? Meng Wanhe is truly generous—how many years would he buy you for with this much money?”

“Get lost!” Qi Jun shot him an annoyed glance and tucked the banknote away. “I found this on Pi Shanbao. What do you make of it?”

“Pi Shanbao?” Sun Jiu paused in surprise. “You suspect they’re connected to him? What if he stole these banknotes from them?”

“It’s only a guess. Truth be told, since I started recruiting, I haven’t had a proper audience with this financial backer.” Qi Jun smiled and said to Sun Jiu, “Stay here and don’t wander. I’ll go buy some gifts for the visit.”

With that, Qi Jun scanned the street and headed into a fabric shop, soon emerging with two bolts of silk in his arms.

“Are we really bringing just this? Will Meng Wanhe even care for such gifts?” Sun Jiu frowned, staring at the silk in Qi Jun’s hands with doubt.

“There’s nothing in Anqiang County that could truly impress him,” Qi Jun replied, shoving the silk into Sun Jiu’s arms. “But one mustn’t visit empty-handed. It’s basic decorum. Even if he’s unimpressed, he can hardly toss us out.”

“That’s true. With Lord Feng in charge of Anqiang County now, Meng Wanhe would be eager to curry favor with you.” Qi Jun didn’t know where Meng Wanhe’s residence was, but Sun Jiu did and led the way, silk in hand.

In a side hall of Meng’s mansion, Meng Wanhe was anxiously conferring with several other wealthy merchants.

They had already learned that the bandits attacking Panlong Ridge had been wiped out, and Pi Shanbao had vanished without a trace. They worried that Magistrate Song would expose their involvement, and feared that Steward Zhao’s assignments might be uncovered by Qi Jun, who would then seek revenge.

“Meng, you must decide quickly!” One merchant, sweating profusely, glanced around at the others and urged.

“At this point, what can I do? Aren’t you just throwing me into the fire?” Meng Wanhe, losing his temper, slumped into his chair, repeatedly rubbing the lid of his teacup.

“These bandits were useless! So many men, yet they failed to take the ridge. How does that Qi fellow keep surviving?” Another merchant, restless and anxious, stood and paced the floor with hands clasped behind his back.

“It’s truly odd. Captain He took our silver but didn’t send a single reinforcement—how could the bandits fail? Now, Pi Shanbao has extorted a fortune from us, and we’ve also handed so much to He.” Old Zheng grumbled in frustration. After hearing of Pi Shanbao’s disappearance, he hoped the villain was dead, but the thought of the money spent pained him further.

“Zheng, mind your words!” Meng Wanhe shot him a cold warning. “Under no circumstances must Captain He’s involvement be revealed, or we’ll be silenced by the county guards.”

At this, everyone in the room immediately fell silent, fearing for their lives.

“Master! Captain Sun from the county guard and Qi Jun are waiting at the gate. Shall I let them in?” Meng Wanhe’s trusted aide called from outside.

“What? Qi Jun has come here?” Meng Wanhe was startled, panic rising within him.

“No need to panic, Meng. They may not know about our affairs. Why not meet them first and gauge their intentions?” One merchant stroked his small mustache and pondered aloud.

“You’re right, Jiang.” Meng Wanhe agreed. “You all wait here and enjoy your tea—I’ll go meet them.” Rising, he composed himself, banishing the earlier anxiety, and went to greet his guests.

“Captain Sun, Master Qi! I did not know distinguished guests were arriving—I apologize for not welcoming you sooner! Please, come inside!” Meng Wanhe emerged with a smile, bowing and gesturing for Qi Jun and Sun Jiu to enter.

Qi Jun smiled and motioned for Sun Jiu to pass the silk to Meng Wanhe’s aide, who accepted it with a grin and ushered the pair inside.

After Meng Wanhe led them in, the aide glanced at the silk disdainfully and, after a few steps, casually tossed it into a small storeroom.

Qi Jun and Sun Jiu were shown to seats in the main hall, and tea was served by the aide.

Qi Jun, feeling thirsty, took a sip. The tea was coarse and bitter. He set the cup down, knowing this was Meng Wanhe’s subtle way of urging them to leave.

Sun Jiu noticed as well, his expression growing cold as he prepared to protest, but Qi Jun shook his head to restrain him.

“I’m afraid we have no fresh tea. My servants have been lazy and neglected to purchase any lately. Please forgive the inconvenience,” Meng Wanhe said hurriedly, seeing the change in their faces. “May I ask the purpose of your visit? If it’s only to chat, I regret that I have urgent matters requiring my attention. Perhaps another day we can enjoy wine and flowers together.”

At any other time, Meng Wanhe would have at least put on a show of hospitality. But now, he was desperately suppressing his anxiety, hoping they would leave quickly.

Though his words were polite, his meaning was unmistakable: I don’t care to entertain you. If you have nothing important, please go elsewhere.

“Meng, don’t rush us out! We’ve brought another gift today.” Qi Jun smiled, pulling a banknote from his coat and placing it on the tea table.

“What does Master Qi mean by this?” Meng Wanhe kept his composure, though his heart raced as he recognized the mark on the banknote.

He immediately saw it was the very note he had given to Pi Shanbao. That night, his hands had sweated so much that the corner of the note, bearing his name, was blurred.

“This is for you, entrusted by Pi Shanbao. He said he failed his task and is ashamed to keep the note,” Qi Jun said, voicing his suspicions through the banknote to test Meng Wanhe.

As expected, Meng Wanhe’s face twitched and sweat appeared on his brow.

“Pi... Who is Pi Shanbao? That bandit deserves death. What connection does he have to me?” Meng Wanhe, realizing he’d betrayed his nerves, quickly composed himself, insisting Qi Jun couldn’t convict him of collusion based on a single banknote.

“What about these?” Qi Jun displayed more banknotes, each bearing the names of other wealthy merchants, except for Old Zheng’s.

Pi Shanbao had exchanged Old Zheng’s note for silver to reward his men, but after being shot by Qi Jun, he never had the chance to cash the others.

“These... these...” Meng Wanhe stared at the notes, the objects he once cherished now seemed like vengeful spirits, terrifying him to his core.

Seeing Meng Wanhe waver, Qi Jun pressed further. He exchanged a glance with Sun Jiu, who instantly understood, slammed the table, sprang up, and brandished his blade.

“Meng, you seem nervous. Shall I entertain you with a sword dance?” Sun Jiu grinned, then sliced the tea stool beside him clean in two.

“Spare me, Captain Sun! Master Qi, I confess—I confess everything!” Meng Wanhe slid from his chair, collapsing to the floor in tears, a humiliating stench rising from his lap.

“Sun Jiu, if you want to dance with your blade, fine, but why destroy Meng’s furniture?” Qi Jun, secretly delighted, feigned annoyance. “Put it away before you damage the flowers—or worse, injure a child!”

Sun Jiu sheathed his blade and looked about in confusion. “Where are the children? Meng, why are you sitting on the floor? Afraid of heights?”

Meng Wanhe’s aide hurried over to help him up, wrinkling his nose at the pungent smell.

“This must not be spread...” Meng Wanhe, drenched in cold sweat, warned his aide, knowing he had utterly disgraced himself.

“Allow me to take the master to change clothes...” the aide said to Sun Jiu and Qi Jun, nodding repeatedly.

“Change clothes? Let him wear prison garb in the county jail!” Sun Jiu barked, making Meng Wanhe and his aide shudder.

“Meng, let’s settle it here. The county jail won’t be so comfortable.” Qi Jun patted Meng Wanhe’s shoulder and told the aide, “Go fetch paper and ink for your master.”

“What crime has he committed? On what grounds do you pressure him like this? You are county officials—do you not respect the law?” The aide persisted, determined to defend his master, believing Qi Jun and Sun Jiu had no proof.

“If I had no evidence, I wouldn’t have come myself. If the guards came to arrest you, it would be far less dignified.” Qi Jun was convinced Meng Wanhe was indeed tied to the bandits.

“Agui, go get the paper and ink...” Meng Wanhe weakly gestured, his chest heaving.

“Master!” Agui cried desperately, clinging to Meng Wanhe’s knees.

“Call the others in.” Meng Wanhe gently stroked Agui’s back, a hint of relief breaking through his despair.

Ever since his dealings with the bandits began, his nights had been shrouded in darkness, despite the illicit riches he amassed. Pushed onto the bandits’ boat by Magistrate Song, with their interests entwined, he knew a day would come when the boat would capsize.

He just hadn’t expected it to happen so quickly, all because of this scholar.

An hour later, Qi Jun and Sun Jiu stood again at the gate of Meng’s mansion.

“I’ll go to Ding’an Prefecture and hand these confessions to Lord Feng. You keep men here and watch Meng Wanhe and his group closely. This involves Captain He as well, and we must wait for Lord Feng’s return to deal with it.” Qi Jun patted Sun Jiu’s shoulder and departed swiftly.

On a dead tree in the Meng mansion’s courtyard, a weary crow cawed plaintively, as if heralding the impending doom of Meng Wanhe and his companions.