ITVCFITB CHAPTER 8

 Chapter 8 – Evidence

The Third Prince’s showy dispatch of people to the Luo household might have bent etiquette, but Luo Renshou could hardly object.

Li Mingjin was a prince of Great Xia. Officially, he had merely sent matrons to help prepare for the wedding, one could even say to instruct Luo Shuyu in royal protocol. No one could fault that. What stung was that Li Mingjin had preemptively drawn Luo Shuyu into his sphere of protection, leaving this “future father-in-law” more than a little uncomfortable. Self-inflicted, really. Had he treated Luo Shuyu better sooner, none of this would be happening. Regret was a bitter draught.

If nothing else, the Third Prince’s gesture reminded Luo Renshou not to underestimate Luo Shuyu. The prince plainly valued him.

For his part, Luo Shuyu spent a comfortable couple of days. Royal etiquette? He had it by heart from his last life.

Etiquette called to mind Shen Mingyun, whose contrarian manners were what made him so “remarkable.” The rules were one of his favorite targets. “A man’s knees are worth their weight in gold¹,” he’d say, and then give perfunctory bows to elders, ministers, even the emperor while sneering at anyone who actually respected the rites. In the Luo household, there was no one he liked to scorn more than play-by-the-book Luo Shuyu.

Confined at home for the past two days and forbidden to step outside the Luo gates, Shen Mingyun had nonetheless made plenty of noise in his courtyard, nearly set his little kitchen on fire, and ruined several costly pieces of furniture.

From Qingwang, now entrusted with more serious errands, came the latest: in salons around the capital, Eldest Young Master Luo’s poetry gathering had become a standing joke. A barely literate ger had leapt up to play the poet, and what everyone had praised turned out to be plagiarism, a disgrace to scholars. No one wished to associate with such a person. Talk spread hotter and wider, and even the income of Shen Mingyun’s cosmetics shops began to dip. Still, he was a ger; the damage was not as great as it might have been.

Luo Shuyu did not seize the moment to go sneer at Shen Mingyun. Instead, he pursued the question of his mother’s death.

Seeing through Luo Renshou’s true face, he no longer trusted what he had once seen and heard. Those were only surfaces; the truth was likely far fouler, baser, and more squalid.

Since the Third Prince’s matrons had moved into Ruyi Pavilion, even the little maids now stood and sat with proper bearing; the courtyard’s former slackness was gone. Luo Shuyu could not help but be grateful for Li Mingjin’s timely aid.

Even Qingwang, once forever blurting and bustling, had steadied. Some of it was what he’d learned from the matrons; more of it was the weight of the tasks Luo Shuyu now set upon his shoulders. Responsibility had a way of teaching quickly.

After dismissing the servants, Luo Shuyu asked, “The matter I sent you to look into. How goes it?”

Qingwang lowered his voice; he had taken to a spy’s life with surprising ease. “Master, as you instructed, I dressed like a country lad and asked around at Zhongde Hall. The physician who treated Madam back then, Doctor Liang, left the capital ten years ago. Said he had family business back home. I slipped some coin to an old physician there, and he said he’d seen Liang laughing to himself in the middle of the night, like he’d stumbled on a cart of silver and then he left very suddenly. Like he’d struck it rich overnight.”

“Where is his home?” Luo Shuyu asked.

“I managed to learn that much. It isn’t far from the capital. We’d need to send someone to look. Master, shall we? Do we track him down?”

Luo Shuyu tapped the table. As expected, there was a story buried deep.

But even finding the man might change little. Lady Liu would never admit to anything. Doctor Liang might have moved long ago. After so many years, Luo Renshou would sooner protect her. There was no direct evidence pointing to anyone. Husband and wife had been in lockstep without Luo Renshou’s consent, how would Lady Liu dare touch his mother’s dowry?

Tracking down Liang was only to confirm whether there were real questions surrounding his mother’s sudden death.

Was the hand that struck Lady Liu’s or someone else’s?

For now, Lady Liu was prime suspect. But what if it had been Luo Renshou sacrificing the ox after the mill had ground? The thought chilled him to the bone.

The book had dwelt on Shen Mingyun’s romances with various “big shots.” The Luo family received far less ink. As for Lady Chen, there was only a single passing mention, tucked into a note on Lady Liu’s background.

Luo Renshou, meanwhile, had profited handsomely from Shen Mingyun. In Shen’s eyes, Luo Renshou was a mild and humble uncle; even after Shen married the Fourth Prince and became empress, he never doubted the man’s character. Luo Renshou had played no small part in Shen’s ascent. Why favor a nephew over his own son? Likely fear of the powers behind the transmigrator. Better to fish in troubled waters than fight them head-on.

Laying out these ties, Luo Shuyu finally understood why the Luo family stood opposite him in all things. No wonder he and Li Mingjin had become the first obstacle, the first to be cut down on Shen Mingyun’s road to becoming Great Xia’s first male empress. Their positions had been opposed from the start.

Since time immemorial, what prince hasn’t coveted the throne? And even if he didn’t, reality forced a choice of sides. Princes, too, had to think of survival. Who knew if the new emperor would make them the first heads to roll?

In the book, the obsessive, brooding Li Mingjin had been the chosen scapegoat among the princes. As for who dragged him to hell, was left unspecified.

Luo Shuyu took a sheet of paper and listed his situation and the immediate dangers:

1. Prevent Li Mingjin from again becoming a target for the other princes.

2. Keep both himself and Li Mingjin far from Shen Mingyun.

3. Break every fortuitous encounter that would raise Shen Mingyun up.

None of the three would be easy, especially the third. United, those “big shots” had directly or indirectly helped the Fourth Prince to the throne, leaving the people scattered and starving along the way. The book had blurred those parts, but Luo Shuyu, who lived in this world, could imagine the truth and had even witnessed it once: to plant some special saplings for Shen Mingyun, a patron had purchased an entire mountain, driving the villagers from their homes to fend for themselves elsewhere. He had discovered it merely by stepping out to clear his head and stumbling upon the scene.

“For now, no,” he said to Qingwang. “The world is wide. If Liang has moved, finding him would be like searching for a needle in the sea. Father is off duty today. I’ll pay him a visit.” He set down the brush and fed the paper to the brazier’s coals.

Qingwang had noticed how his master had changed. How carefully he wrote these days, as if every character might be stolen. He did not understand why it had all shifted so suddenly.

At the study door, they found Madam Feng discussing pastries with the cook.

“Young Master, are you going out?” she asked.

“I’m going to see Father,” Luo Shuyu said.

“I’ve had some chilled cakes made,” Madam Feng suggested. “Take a few to Lord Luo for the heat.”

Luo Shuyu thought of Li Mingjin. Appearances mattered for now.  They were not yet at the point of tearing up the mask of filial piety. The new cakes had an odd flavor; he didn’t like them. He might as well take them to Luo Renshou, waste not.

He wasn’t going to fuss over his father, he was going to reclaim his mother’s dowry.

Madam Feng picked up the tray and followed him out.

He had seen her skill in his last life, how she valued rules and order. She had trained Qingwang in days, turning him inside out. Suddenly, he understood why Li Mingjin had sent her to their courtyard then. Perhaps it hadn’t been to show displeasure with him at all, but to help him. If so, hadn’t he misunderstood Li Mingjin entirely? The more he thought on it, the more likely it seemed.

“Mind the threshold, Young Master,” Qingwang murmured as they entered the yard.

For a Minister of Rites, Luo Renshou kept a curiously lax house. Laughter pealed from the hall. Lady Liu and her children entertaining him. A page slipped in ahead to announce them.

Luo Renshou still wore his smile when he looked up; creases at his eyes deepened with pleasure. When he saw Madam Feng behind Luo Shuyu, his smile faded a notch. “Shuyu, what brings you?”

“The weather is hot,” Luo Shuyu said mildly. “I heard your appetite’s been poor. I brought some chilled cakes.”

“You’re thoughtful,” Luo Renshou said.

Ignoring Lady Liu and the rest, Luo Shuyu continued, “Father, I’ve come to check Mother’s dowry in the storeroom. Madam Feng says I’ve never managed household accounts; I may as well begin with the dowry and practice now, so I can better manage the estate’s affairs later.”

It was an impeccable reason and he’d already agreed on the day of the decree.

Lady Liu shot Luo Renshou a desperate look. He had given her the keys; he had no idea how much she had “borrowed.” He had told her to return items piece by piece over the last few days—had she not finished? Cold crept under his collar.

He hesitated. “The inventory… I’ll have to find it in the study. I’ll send it to you shortly.”

“No need to trouble yourself,” Luo Shuyu said, smiling without warmth. “I have the inventory. Just give me the keys.”

“How do you have the inventory?” Lady Liu blurted.

“How could I not have my mother’s inventory?” he replied lazily. “We needn’t explain that to Aunt Liu, surely?”

Handkerchief at her lips, Lady Liu forced a brittle smile. “Only curious, nothing more.” Guilt tightened her throat.

Luo Renshou was cooler than she, but his heart beat uneasily. Court matters had occupied him; he’d neglected the dowry. Now, with Luo Shuyu pressing, would he hand it over or not?

“How do you have your mother’s inventory?” he tried again.

“Mother left it to me, of course,” said Luo Shuyu. “Why refuse me over and over, Father? Shall we transfer the keys now? Or has the storeroom already been emptied by greedy jackals, siphoned off for private use? Perhaps to subsidize relatives?”

He repeated it, voice slow and soft enough to cut.

Lady Liu nearly fainted from rage, patting her chest, fighting for breath. Luo Shuyu’s younger brother, Luo Shuyu, couldn’t bear to see his mother mocked. “Luo Shuyu, don’t you spit blood! Who took your mother’s dowry? My mother is only managing it for you out of kindness. You’re the ungrateful one who can’t even recognize a good heart! Who’s the jackal here is something we might well debate!”

“Whomever the shoe fits,” Luo Shuyu said airily.

“You dare say such things with no evidence?” Luo Shuyu fumed. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll bite your tongue?”

At that moment, a voice drifted in from outside.

“Wow, everyone’s here! What’s this that needs evidence? Are we playing at solving cases?”

The voice was all too familiar. Luo Shuyu didn’t need to turn to know: after two days under “house arrest,” Shen Mingyun had arrived.

He could guess why. No doubt another “system task.” He never came without a purpose.

And Luo Shuyu wondered, not without interest: what happens when Shen Mingyun fails a task?

---

Author’s Note:
Third Prince: Wife, roast him! You’ve got this! ↖(^ω^)↗
Luo Shuyu: …

PREVIOUS           TOC           NEXT

Little note(s):
“A man’s knees are worth their weight in gold.”: Basically saying that a man should not kneel easily since his dignity is precious. This idiom is used by prideful or rebellious characters to justify disrespecting authority, claiming they are too noble or proud to bow to anyone they don’t truly respect.