Chapter 19

Chapter 19: Humiliation (Part 3)

Shen Tang nearly choked on her tea.

“S-so that’s the truth behind Madam Gong being wiped out?” she managed. “From what you’ve said, she doesn’t sound exactly innocent. If she knew Zheng Qiao was poison and still let him return, did she never think he’d come back for her?”

Qi Shan shrugged slightly. “That, I don’t know.”

Shen Tang tried to joke it off, voice thin. “I thought Sir Qi knew everything. Even brothel-manager gossip.”

Qi Shan put on a mock look of surprise. “To be held in such high regard by Young Master Shen—I’m honored.”

Shen Tang couldn’t win a thick-skin fight with Qi Yuan Liang, so she dropped her gaze and drank tea in tactical retreat.

Qi Shan watched her over the rim of his cup.

He had always wondered what her relationship to Madam Gong really was. Hearing that Madam Gong’s extermination stemmed from Zheng Qiao’s revenge, Young Master Shen showed neither fury nor hatred. She was calm, like it was none of her business.

And yet, last night she’d run through the rain for a foolish child she’d met only once.

Nothing about her fit clean logic.

The soldiers outside still hadn’t moved on, and Shen Tang didn’t want to step out and draw attention. She asked the shopkeeper for another pot of tea. They lingered—and quietly asked about the prisoners in the wagons.

The shopkeeper glanced back toward the soldiers, throat tight with fear. “I heard it’s some kind of… vice censor…”

Shen Tang blinked. “Vice censor?”

Qi Shan’s eyes narrowed. “Surname Tian?”

“Seems like Tian,” the shopkeeper whispered. “Those soldiers keep cursing ‘that old Tian bastard’ and ‘so what if he’s vice censor.’”

He poured tea with shaking hands and sighed. “You two young lords should stop being curious. Curiosity gets people killed.”

He wasn’t wrong. Wars between Xin and Geng had crushed the commoners. Geng State’s people had it slightly better—taxes were heavier, but most didn’t starve. Xin State’s people suffered everything: being bled dry for supplies, then trampled by invading soldiers.

When the shopkeeper finally shuffled away, Qi Shan’s smile vanished.

“A vice censor serves as censorate chief,” he said, voice low. “He receives reports from high ministers and impeaches court officials.”

Shen Tang connected the dots instantly. “So he must have impeached Zheng Qiao plenty. No wonder he’s in a prison wagon.”

“It’s more than that,” Qi Shan said.

At Shen Tang’s look, he continued. “Vice Censor Tian was blunt and explosive. He upheld the law and didn’t avoid anyone. High ministers, nobles, whoever—if he caught your fault, he impeached you.”

“And Zheng Qiao?”

Qi Shan’s tone turned colder. “Ever since Zheng Qiao became Xin State’s favored boy, Vice Censor Tian cursed him the hardest in court. He once blocked Zheng Qiao’s road to court on horseback and spat curses at him in front of commoners.”

Shen Tang murmured, “So he gave him no face at all.”

“None,” Qi Shan said. “After that, everyone in the capital—officials and commoners alike—knew exactly what Zheng Qiao rose by.”

When Zheng Qiao tried to return to Geng State, Vice Censor Tian opposed him most fiercely. He submitted nineteen memorials in a row, begging the ruler of Xin to execute Zheng Qiao, calling it letting the tiger return to the mountain.

Shen Tang didn’t even have to imagine the ending. “So when Zheng Qiao turned things around, Vice Censor Tian’s whole clan…”

Qi Shan shook his head. “It didn’t end there.”

Before Zheng Qiao returned, Vice Censor Tian rallied his disciples and clan members who held office to petition for Zheng Qiao’s death. And the sovereign of Xin, under pressure and with his own grievances, actually developed killing intent.

“It’s said the order was already written,” Qi Shan said. “Just waiting to be issued.”

But Zheng Qiao learned first.

He fled overnight back to Geng State. If the news had reached him any later, he’d be dead.

Shen Tang exhaled slowly. “So the lesson is: cut the grass and pull the roots. Strike early, so you don’t regret it later.”

Qi Shan’s mouth twitched like he wanted to argue but couldn’t find the flaw.

Then, outside, a prisoner’s cry rose—ragged and raw, like blood in the throat—followed by furious curses.

“Too much! Too much! Zheng Qiao, you cheap lackey—how dare you! How dare you!”

Shen Tang turned sharply. “What happened now?”

Qi Shan went to the door to ask in a low voice. When he returned, his face was hard, his presence cold enough to frost the air.

“Zheng Qiao ordered the ruler of Xin to lead the old officials in a formal surrender.”

Shen Tang frowned. “I thought they already surrendered.”

“There’s still a ritual,” Qi Shan said. “Zheng Qiao values it most.”

“But losing means surrendering. That’s normal.” Shen Tang’s voice tightened. “That prisoner got whipped half to death and didn’t cry. Why would a ceremony make him break like this? There has to be something else.”

Qi Shan’s hands clenched at his sides. His throat worked; his voice trembled, faint but real.

“The state seal still hasn’t been found,” he said. “Zheng Qiao is furious. He ordered the ruler of Xin to abdicate to his only princess.”

Shen Tang stared, waiting.

Qi Shan’s expression turned complex. “Then the princess must perform the surrender rite: hands bound, jade held in the mouth… stripped bare… leading the court officials in mourning and hauling a coffin-cart, to surrender.”

Shen Tang went silent.

After a long beat, she swallowed and said hoarsely, “Hands bound and jade in the mouth… that means both hands tied behind the back, with a piece of jade held between the teeth. A surrender rite.”