Why Does Mr. Xie Favor Me? Chapter 6
byChapter 6 The Nine-Turn Corridor
In this life, one only seeks to have a heart free of regrets.
The candlelight in the Danyang Post House flickered violently in the night wind.
Zhao Ning knelt on the floor, his forehead drenched in sweat. “The Third Elder said… that the events of the third year of Yonghe are a shared debt between the Xie and Wang clans. If you continue to investigate, it will not only harm the Wang family, but also the century-old reputation of the Xie clan.”
Xie Heng’s hand, holding the brush, did not stop. He kept his eyes lowered. “What else did my third uncle say?”
“The Elder said…” Zhao Ning prostrated himself even lower. “He said that if the Master wishes to implement the land reform, he may investigate any county or commandery in the world, but Danyang is the sole exception. Buried here is three generations of friendship between the Xie and Wang families, and… and secrets that can never see the light of day.”
Xiao Jue could not help but speak up. “What secret could possibly be more important than the lives of the soldiers in the Northern Frontier?!”
Zhao Ning did not dare to answer. He simply raised a jade pendant above his head—the Tingyun Pendant, passed down through generations of the Xie family heads.
Looking at the pendant, Xie Heng suddenly felt a tightness in his chest. He remembered when he was a child, his third uncle had taught him calligraphy and said, “Heng’er, the first thing a son of the Xie family must learn is not the classics or history, but a sense of propriety. You must know what can be done and what cannot, what can be said and what must rot in your belly. This is the foundation upon which a noble clan stands.”
Now, his third uncle was using that same sense of propriety to lecture him.
“Go back and tell my third uncle,” Xie Heng spoke slowly, “tell him that Xie Heng is dull-witted. I only know that the laws of the state are as immovable as mountains, and I know nothing of family rules being as hard as iron.”
Zhao Ning looked up sharply. “Master! The Elder has already reached an agreement with the Wang family—”
“What?” Xie Heng’s gaze suddenly turned razor-sharp.
Zhao Ning fell silent, kowtowing repeatedly as he backed away.
Once he had departed, Xiao Jue said urgently, “Minister, they are planning to join forces to cover this up!”
“They joined forces long ago.” Xie Heng walked to the window, gazing at the pitch-black sky. “From the moment His Majesty sent Wang Yan to assist, the rules of this chess match were already set. The noble clans can fight amongst themselves, but they are not allowed to flip the table.”
Three days later, an urgent report from Jiaozhou arrived in Danyang.
The messenger was a secret guard Xie Heng had left in Jiaozhou to track Li Su’s whereabouts. His armor was shattered, and he bore an arrow wound on his shoulder. “Minister… I went to Jiaozhou where Li Su was exiled. The locals say Li Su died of illness three months ago.”
“Died of illness?”
“They say it was the miasma.” The guard pulled a strip of cloth from his robes, upon which two words were written in blood: “Jiangzhou.”
Xiao Jue took the cloth. “Is this Li Su’s handwriting?”
“It is,” the guard panted. “When I arrived, Li Su’s thatched hut had just been burned down. This cloth was salvaged from the ashes; it had been sewn into a hidden layer of the bedboard.”
Xie Heng unfurled the cloth. The blood had already turned black, but the haste and despair in the brushstrokes were clearly discernible.
In the final moments of his life, Li Su had used his blood to warn those who came after him: the real evidence was not in Jiaozhou, but in Jiangzhou.
But Jiangzhou was far too vast.
“There is one more thing…” the guard whispered. “I encountered three assassination attempts on my way back. During the last one, the assassins used military crossbows.”
Military crossbows. Xiao Jue’s pupils constricted. “The standard issue of the Beifu Army?”
“No.” The guard shook his head. “The arrowheads had faint engravings—the mark of the Yangzhou Armory.”
It was the Provincial Governor’s Office of Yangzhou.
Xie Heng closed his eyes. All leads were cut, all witnesses were dead, and every piece of evidence pointed toward a direction he could not touch and could not afford to provoke.
The sudden sound of rapid hoofbeats echoed outside the window. An attendant rushed in to report, “Master, the Governor’s Office, the Commandery Administration, and the Wang family have arrived with over a hundred men. They say they are here to invite the Minister to a banquet.”
They called it an invitation, but it was effectively an escort under guard.
The Wang family’s villa was brilliantly lit tonight.
The banquet was set in the central courtyard, surrounded on three sides by water, with only a single nine-turn corridor bridge providing access. When Xie Heng entered, the entire assembly rose. Nearly every prominent member of the Danyang nobility was present.
The head seat was empty, flanked by Wang Yan and Xie Chong. Tonight, Xie Chong wore formal dark robes and a cloak, his white hair combed meticulously. When he saw Xie Heng enter, he merely gave a slight nod.
“Minister Xie has arrived.” Wang Yan smiled and raised a cup. “It is rare for us all to gather like this. We have specially prepared this to welcome the Minister.”
Xie Heng did not take the cup. “I still have official business to attend to…”
“There is no rush for official business.” Xie Chong finally spoke, his voice aged and authoritative. “Heng’er, sit down.”
Xie Heng remained silent for a moment before taking the head seat. The guests exchanged meaningful glances.
After three rounds of wine, Wang Yan suddenly clapped his hands. Two servants carried out a wooden chest. When the lid was opened, it revealed neatly stacked land deeds.
“Does Minister Xie not wish to investigate hidden households?” Wang Yan stood up. “All of the Wang family’s land holdings and sheltered households in Danyang are right here. A total of four thousand three hundred qing of land and eight thousand seven hundred and twenty-one sheltered households. Does the Minister wish to count them on the spot?”
The room broke into a clamor. Some were shocked, some suspicious, but most were simply watching the show.
Xie Heng looked at the deeds. The paper was brand new and the ink was barely dry; they were clearly falsified records prepared in haste. But if he exposed them now, he would be making an enemy of the entire Wang family and every noble present.
“I will take them back for verification,” he said, signaling Xiao Jue to accept them.
“There is no need for such trouble.” Xie Chong spoke suddenly. He rose, leaning on his staff, and walked step by step into the center of the courtyard. “I have already reviewed these records for you.”
He turned, his aged eyes sweeping across the room. “It is true that the Wang family has sheltered households, but what of the Xie family?” He pointed to another wooden chest that had just been brought out. “The Xie clan has three thousand qing of land and five thousand sheltered households in Danyang. Heng’er, do you wish to investigate your own family as well?”
Xiao Jue lunged to his feet but was held back by Xie Heng’s hand.
The courtyard fell into a deathly silence, broken only by the crackling of the candles.
Xie Heng rose slowly and walked to the wooden chest. He picked up the topmost land deed. It was for the Xie clan’s largest manor in Danyang. In the third year of Yonghe, it had been reclassified from government land to private land, then transferred under the Xie name.
The paperwork was complete, covered in numerous official seals.
“Third Uncle,” he said softly, “was this land truly purchased back then? How much was paid for it?”
A flash of unease crossed Xie Chong’s face. “The deed is here. Naturally, it was purchased at the market price.”
“In the third year of Yonghe, Danyang suffered a great flood. Grain prices soared, and the common people were forced to swap their children for food.” Xie Heng looked up. “Was there even a market price back then?”
Xie Chong’s staff struck the ground heavily. “Are you questioning your elder?”
“I would not dare.” Xie Heng set the deed down. “I only remember my grandfather often saying when he was alive that the sons of the Xie family must carry themselves with integrity and keep their hearts sincere. If this land was obtained dishonestly, then where is the sincerity?”
“What a fine ‘carrying yourself with integrity’!” Xie Chong suddenly laughed, his voice sounding desolate. “Then tell me, into whose private storehouse did the three hundred thousand dan of grain embezzled from the Beifu Army last year disappear?”
Xiao Jue’s expression changed drastically. “What nonsense are you talking about!”
“Whether I am talking nonsense or not, you know the truth in your heart!” Xie Chong pointed his finger at Xiao Jue. “Are commoner generals any cleaner? Ask anyone present—who among them hasn’t been pressured by the Beifu Army for ‘military assistance funds’?”
The guests grew restless. Some lowered their heads to drink, while others sneered.
Xie Heng stood his ground, remaining silent.
He knew what his third uncle said was true. There was indeed corruption in the army, which was exactly why he had to push for the land reform—it was the only way to break this cycle of rot.
But saying those words now would only turn them into blades used against him.
“Heng’er.” Xie Chong walked up to him, his voice suddenly softening. “I am telling you today that the matters of this world are not black and white. You want to save the country? Fine. But do not use the Xie family as your stepping stone.”
Xie Heng looked up, staring fixedly at him. After a long silence, he spoke slowly. “Uncle, do not forget that I am the current Head of the Lantai Xie Clan. If I die one day and you become the Head, it will not be too late for you to decide the honor and disgrace of the Xie family.”
Enraged by the humiliation, Xie Chong raised his hand and struck Xie Heng across the face.
Slap—
The blow was slow but heavy.
The crisp, loud sound of the slap echoed through the silent courtyard for a long time.
Xiao Jue’s sword had left its scabbard by three inches before being held back by a sharp look from Xie Heng.
Xie Heng’s face was turned to the side, a red mark quickly rising on his cheek. He did not cover his face, nor did he retreat. He simply turned back slowly to look at the white-haired elder before him.
“This slap,” Xie Chong’s voice was terrifyingly calm, “is on behalf of the ancestors of the Xie clan. It is for your failure to understand the bigger picture, your lack of regard for family ties, and your failure to uphold our family rules.”
Xie Chong’s hand was trembling, but his voice grew even colder. “From this day forward, the Danyang land reform is suspended. You will return to Guzang to beg His Majesty’s forgiveness, saying that you are young and inexperienced, and unfit for such a heavy responsibility.”
The guests all held their breath.
Wang Yan watched the spectacle with a slight smirk, clearly enjoying the chaos.
Xie Heng slowly raised his hand to wipe a trace of blood from the corner of his mouth. He scanned the room, his gaze passing over faces that were either smug or indifferent.
Finally, he looked at Xie Chong. “How I conduct my affairs is not for my uncle to criticize.”
He gave a formal bow, turned, and walked toward the corridor bridge.
Xiao Jue followed quickly, his face full of indignation. As he passed Wang Yan, he heard the other man speak in a voice only the two of them could hear: “General Xiao, a wise man submits to circumstances.”
The veins on Xiao Jue’s hand bulged as he gripped his sword, but in the end, he did not look back.
On the nine-turn corridor bridge, the night wind was biting.
Xie Heng walked steadily, though his pace was slightly slower than usual. When he reached the middle of the bridge, he suddenly stopped and looked down at the pitch-black water of the lake.
“Minister…” Xiao Jue’s voice choked up.
“I am fine.” His voice was somewhat hoarse. “I just suddenly remembered my father bringing me here when I was a child. He said back then that this bridge was called the Bridge of No Regrets. In this life, one only seeks to have a heart free of regrets.”
He lowered his head, looking at the broken reflection of the moon in the water. “But only now do I understand that the hardest thing in this world is not having a heart free of regrets, but ensuring that those you care about… do not regret believing in you.”
A drop of water fell into the lake, though it was impossible to tell if it was night dew or something else.
In the distance, the music of the banquet resuming drifted over—the sound of clinking cups and conversation, as if nothing had happened. The music chased him through the streets and alleys, gradually swallowed by the sound of the thickening rain.