Chapter 19

Life on the ship was agonizing. No sooner had they boarded than they were locked in a windowless cabin sealed on all four sides. The room was impenetrable to light, making it impossible to distinguish day from night once the door was bolted. It seemed their captors were intent on grinding them down.

Each time the door opened, only a meager ration of food and water was provided, far from enough for seven people. Under this torment, they withered rapidly, growing so weak they lacked the strength even to speak. In that small, dark chamber, silence reigned, broken only by the sound of their own breathing.

Even so, Father Wen refused to entertain any improper thoughts. Whenever Wen Yan stirred or moved, he grew visibly anxious. He frequently sought to soothe her, and as a result, he became the most talkative among them. Wen Yan listened to his endless, droning whispers until her ears felt calloused. She suspected he had said more to her in these past few days than in the previous five years combined. Her progression from initial impatience to a state of hollow, expressionless listening could perhaps be considered a form of improvement. Still, she harbored plans to settle this debt one day. She was a vengeful person, not particularly magnanimous. Besides, she had already memorized the face of that martial officer.

Wen Yan had expected to wait a long time for such an opportunity, but to her surprise, the day arrived sooner than she imagined. After an unknown number of days spent in the lightless cabin, the door was suddenly flung open. Someone entered carrying several oil lamps, flooding the space with brightness. The Wen family, long deprived of light, recoiled in discomfort. Wen Yan shielded her eyes with her palm, peering toward the doorway through the gaps in her fingers.

A few figures entered, carrying a heavy grand chair. When they set it down, the floorboards—spliced together as they were—trembled, and the accumulated dust was tossed high into the air before settling once more. Shortly after, a hulking figure strode in. Recognizing the visitor, the Wen family members, previously slumped in the corner, instinctively straightened their backs. They propped up their frail, listless bodies and stared at the man.

It was the martial officer in charge of their transport. Once seated, he spoke in a booming voice: "Magistrate Wen, I am Lieutenant Feng Wu. By imperial decree, I am escorting you all to the capital for trial."

Father Wen bowed his head and cupped his hands. "Greetings, Lieutenant Feng." The effort left his breathing labored.

Feng Wu was well-satisfied with his handiwork, yet he feigned a polite tone: "Oh, Magistrate Wen, please, you are a superior official; it is I who should be paying respects to you."

Father Wen was a fourth-rank prefect, while Feng Wu was a seventh-rank lieutenant; under normal circumstances, Feng Wu would indeed be required to pay respects. But given the current situation, Father Wen dared not accept the gesture. He smiled bitterly. "You jest, Lieutenant Feng."

Feng Wu continued, "I still remember your heroic bearing, Magistrate, when you placed first in the imperial examinations and rode your horse through the streets. How high-spirited you were. It is a pity that the world is fickle; how did you fall into such a state, and drag your whole family into ruin with you? I hear the families of Grand Tutor Wu and Elder Lu have both called off their betrothals?" His eyes swept over the faces of Wen Ruxu and Wen Ruqing. "A pity for the eldest son and the second daughter."

Though Feng Wu appeared crude, he was sharp and meticulous. Every word he spoke was a barb aimed at Father Wen’s heart, intended to humiliate him. Father Wen was no longer the impulsive youth he had once been. Back when he had overseen the construction of the Xijiang City docks, he had heard far worse. Feng Wu’s taunts could no longer stir a ripple of emotion in him. "As you said, Lieutenant, that was years ago."

The smile on Feng Wu’s face faded slightly as he scrutinized the man before him. Father Wen remained composed, maintaining his composure until Feng Wu posed a single question.

"Magistrate Wen." Feng Wu leaned forward, his elbows resting on his thighs, peering down at him. "Someone entrusted me with a question for you."

"Please, speak, Lieutenant Feng," Father Wen replied.

Feng Wu asked, word by word: "Magistrate Wen, have you ever taken anything that you should not have?"

Wen Yan lifted her eyelids to look at him.

Father Wen frowned. "To what do you refer, Lieutenant?"

Feng Wu laughed. "Let me phrase it differently. I heard that thieves broke into your home a month ago. It has been so long now; have you discovered the origin of those thieves?"

Father Wen’s hands tightened under his sleeves, and his entire demeanor shifted. Feng Wu stared back with a cruel, mocking grin, his eyes cold and ferocious. Though Feng Wu spoke in riddles, it was clear enough for the clever minds in the room to grasp the hidden meaning.

The Wen family grew alert, their eyes filled with wariness and dread. It turned out that Feng Wu was an accomplice to the black-clad assassins from that night. They suspected that Father Wen had detained a certain ship and seized something from it. Or rather, that Father Wen had discovered something on a ship and was being silenced for it. The perpetrators were likely uncertain which was true, hence their initial attempt to slaughter the entire Wen household. They had not counted on the anomaly that was Wen Yan, which had thwarted their goal, leading to the current confiscation of the family’s property.

For the mastermind behind this to go to such lengths just to silence them proved that the contents of that ship were of immense importance. The minds of the Wen family had never been clearer: Feng Wu would not let them reach the capital alive. No wonder they had been subjected to such torture since they departed. Clearly, once this interrogation concluded, he would move to kill them. Realizing this, a cold sweat broke out across their backs.

Just as the family sank into a state of extreme agitation, Wen Yan’s languid voice cut through the air.

"You should be asking me that."

The people in the room were stunned, their reactions varied. Feng Wu looked up, narrowing his eyes as he turned toward Wen Yan. She was sitting cross-legged against the wall, her posture proper yet possessing an indescribable air of wild freedom.

Feng Wu frowned in suspicion. "You?"

Wen Yan smiled. "After all, I am the one who killed them."

Feng Wu was a martial man whose skill was no less than that of the assassin leader from that night. Initially, his attention had been entirely on Father Wen, causing him to overlook the others. But as Wen Yan spoke, he immediately sensed something wrong about her. The aura of this slim, frail, and sickly-looking woman was far too faint.

Feng Wu straightened up, eyeing her with intrigue. He had dug up and examined all the corpses of the dead soldiers. Though they had rotted beyond recognition, some traces remained. At first, he had assumed Father Wen was in league with powers in the capital, which was how he had managed to kill the assassins and protect his family. But now, it seemed the truth might be less complex.

"You truly killed them?" Feng Wu asked.

Wen Yan replied, "One of them said before he died that he was only the first." She asked with genuine curiosity, "So, are you the second one he spoke of?"

Feng Wu gripped the armrests of the grand chair, his previous composure entirely vanished. Wen Yan shifted her gaze to Father Wen. "Father, what do you think?"

Father Wen remained stiff and silent.

"Are we still going to the capital?" she asked.

The rest of the Wen family dared not breathe. Wen Changning, who had been sitting closest to her, quietly moved his hand away from the hem of her sleeve.

Wen Yan took Father Wen’s silence as consent. She exhaled a long breath, her tone brimming with cheer. "Then we shan't go."

"..." Father Wen remained silent.

Wen Yan made her own arrangements. She raised her hands, exerted a slight force, and the chains snapped with a sharp crack. After breaking the shackles on her feet in the same manner, she rose and pulled the iron cuffs from her wrists as if they were made of mud, tossing them aside. With two loud thuds, the iron locks hit the floor, kicking up a cloud of dust.

Feng Wu bolted from the grand chair, his face filled with disbelief. Wen Ruqing and Wen Hening hunched over to help Father Wen to the side, clearing a path for Wen Yan, before the whole family retreated into the corner, huddling together in a tight, practiced formation.