Chapter Four: Trapped in Prison, Striking Out in Fury (Part One)

The snow in Chang’an always carried a certain piercing pride, blanketing the blue flagstones of Vermilion Bird Avenue and dusting the manes of the bronze lions before the Jingzhao Prefecture office. Xiao Yan drew his brocade robe tighter around him; the breath he exhaled vanished instantly, much like the fleeting warmth within his heart.

“Recorder Xiao, this grain transport corruption case implicates so many—do you truly intend to pursue it to the end?” The clerk’s hands trembled as he held the dossier; the candlelight flickered uneasily in his eyes.

Xiao Yan accepted the stack of heavy documents, his fingertips grazing the embossed word “Confidential” on the cover, feeling its roughness. He was thirty-two this year, transferred three years ago from the Hanlin Academy to serve as military adjutant and recorder at Jingzhao Prefecture. With a backbone of iron and remarkable talent, he had already resolved most of the old, pending cases. Now, with a slight arch of his brow and eyes sharp as torches, he replied, “If we turn away from every case with too many entanglements, how are we any better than the very parasites we are meant to root out?”

Outside, the wind and snow intensified, wailing as they battered the window lattice. The clerk wanted to persuade him further but saw that Xiao Yan had already opened the dossier and set his brush moving across the page. From the gilded bronze incense burner on his desk, dragon’s brain fragrance curled into the air, entwining with the scent of ink upon him, lending the scene a solitary poignancy.

Three days later, in the grand hall of Jingzhao Prefecture.

Xiao Yan slammed a stack of account books onto the table; the crisp slap startled the flames of the candles. Kneeling below was Wang Lun, chief of grain transport, who shrank further, his fleshy chin pressed against the cold stone, not daring to meet Xiao Yan’s piercing gaze.

“Chief Wang, last winter, three hundred thousand shi of grain were shipped up from the south. The records say ‘thirty percent lost to snow damage,’ yet as I understand, there was no snow in Jiangnan at all those days.” His voice was not loud, but each word struck like an icicle. “So the missing ninety thousand shi—where did it go?”

Wang Lun trembled all over, his forehead thudding against the blue bricks. “Mercy, Recorder Xiao! I’m just a runner—it was… it was Adjutant Li who ordered me to do it!”

A light cough sounded from behind the screen, and Li Mo stepped out slowly in fresh scarlet official robes, his habitual gentle smile on his face. “Recorder Xiao, Chief Wang was confused for a moment, don’t frighten him so. Grain transport is complex; some losses are only to be expected.”

Xiao Yan looked at this colleague, a chill rising in his heart. Li Mo had arrived at Jingzhao Prefecture five years before him, always courteous and amiable to all, yet those perpetually narrowed eyes hid schemes Xiao Yan could never quite discern.

“Only to be expected?” Xiao Yan sneered, tossing another dossier before Li Mo. “Then perhaps Adjutant Li can explain why the amount of ‘lost’ grain matches exactly the intake at your cousin’s warehouse outside the city?”

Li Mo’s smile froze, a glint of malice flickering in his eyes before he quickly composed himself. Bowing, he said, “You must be joking, Recorder Xiao. My cousin is but an ordinary merchant—how could he dare touch the court’s grain? There must be some hidden reason behind this. Why not hold off until I investigate further?”

“No need.” Xiao Yan rose, his gaze sweeping over the assembled officials. “The case is complete. Tomorrow, I will present it to the Censorate.”

As he turned to leave, he clearly heard Li Mo’s stifled, cold snort behind him. Xiao Yan clenched his fists until his knuckles whitened. He knew that from this step forward, there would be no turning back. The snow and wind of Chang’an fell not only on the streets but also upon the seemingly tranquil depths of the officialdom.

Night was as dark as ink. Alone in his study, Xiao Yan sat with the flickering candlelight casting shifting shadows across his face. The grain transport dossier lay open beside an untouched pot of cold wine. He massaged his throbbing temples, replaying his confrontation with Li Mo over and over in his mind.

Suddenly, strange noises came from outside the window. Xiao Yan, alert, stood up, about to call for his guards, when the door crashed open. A band of masked men in black surged in, blades gleaming, attacking without a word.

Though not skilled in martial arts, Xiao Yan did not panic. He dodged the first strike, grabbed the inkstone from the table and hurled it. The assailant could not evade and was struck on the shoulder, pausing for a moment. In that brief gap, Xiao Yan retreated to the corner, about to shout for help, but another masked man struck him on the back of the neck. His vision went black and he lost consciousness.

When he awoke, Xiao Yan found himself lying on a cold floor, the heavy stench of blood in the air making his stomach churn. Struggling to sit up, he looked around—a dilapidated shack, with a corpse lying in the corner. It was unmistakably Wang Lun, the grain transport chief who had testified against Li Mo the day before!

A foreboding dread flooded Xiao Yan’s heart. He staggered towards the door, wanting to escape this place of disaster, but had only just reached the entrance when a commotion sounded outside.

“Those inside, listen well—you’re surrounded!”

Xiao Yan’s heart sank. He realized it was a trap. Pushing open the door, he saw the yard filled with Jingzhao Prefecture officers, led by none other than Li Mo.

“Recorder Xiao, what a surprise.” Li Mo wore a false smile. “I received a report of a murder here, yet found you at the scene. It seems the truth behind the grain transport case is far more complicated than I imagined.”

Xiao Yan glared at him coldly. “Li Mo, do you think this is enough to frame me?”

“Frame you?” Li Mo feigned astonishment. “Recorder Xiao, you speak unjustly. The evidence is all here—Wang Lun dead before you, and you still wish to deny it?”

He waved his hand, and several officers seized Xiao Yan. Xiao Yan struggled, but it was futile.

“Li Mo, mark my words—I will uncover the truth and clear my name!” Xiao Yan shouted, eyes blazing.

Li Mo sneered, “You’d best worry about yourself first. The murder of a court official is no minor crime.”

Turning away, he left Xiao Yan to be escorted toward the prison of Jingzhao Prefecture.

The snow in Chang’an still fell, icy against Xiao Yan’s face. He raised his head to the swirling sky, anger and indignation burning in his heart. He knew this was only the beginning of Li Mo’s plot—what awaited him would be even harsher trials.

The iron door of Jingzhao Prefecture’s prison clanged shut, cutting Xiao Yan off from the outside world. The damp air reeked of mold and urine, making him gag. The cell was small and dark, walls coated with moss, the straw in the corner stinking foully.

“Newcomer, what crime did you commit?” a hoarse voice drifted from the next cell.

Xiao Yan turned to see a stubbled man with a fierce scar across his face peering through the bars. His clothes were tattered, but his gaze was sharp.

“I was framed—for murder,” Xiao Yan replied, resignation in his tone.

“Heh, in here, nine out of ten say they were framed,” the scarred man scoffed. “But you don’t look like a killer. Who were you before?”

“Recorder Adjutant of Jingzhao Prefecture. Xiao Yan.”

The scarred man paused, surprise dawning. “So you’re that upright Recorder Xiao? Word of your investigation into the grain case is all over the prison. Who’d have thought you’d end up here, too?”

Xiao Yan gave a bitter smile. “The officialdom is treacherous, people’s hearts unpredictable. I couldn’t guard against everything.”

“So you fell into Li Mo’s hands?” the scarred man pressed.

Xiao Yan nodded. “Exactly.”

“Hmph, that Li Mo is a piece of work. He’s done plenty of evil in his years here. I ended up here because I stumbled upon one of his secret dealings with another official—he framed me and threw me in this hole.”

Xiao Yan’s interest piqued. “You know about his secrets?”

“A few things, not much,” the man admitted. “He’s cautious, leaves no evidence. But I’ve heard he’s close to Vice Minister Zhang of Personnel. They work together on many things.”

Xiao Yan nodded thoughtfully. He knew Vice Minister Zhang was a powerful figure at court. If Li Mo was truly in league with him, overturning the case would be difficult indeed.

Just then, footsteps echoed outside the cell. A guard appeared, holding an oil lamp, sneering with contempt.

“Well, if it isn’t Recorder Xiao—how did you end up here?” the guard mocked.

Xiao Yan ignored him, his gaze icy.

The guard’s grin widened. “Recorder Xiao, don’t think you’re still the lofty official. Here, you’re just another prisoner, no different from the rest of us.”

With that, he pulled a hard roll from his pocket and threw it to the filthy floor. “Hungry? If you want to eat, bow to me first.”

Xiao Yan’s face darkened. Though imprisoned, his pride remained. To kowtow to a petty jailer was a humiliation beyond words.

“Don’t push your luck!” he snapped.

“Push my luck?” the guard sneered. “Recorder Xiao, here you do as you’re told. Refuse, and you’ll suffer.”

He raised a whip and struck. Xiao Yan could not dodge; pain seared his back.

“Ah!” Xiao Yan gasped, sweat standing out on his brow.

The scarred man in the next cell shouted, “Stop! How dare you strike him?”

The guard glared, “Mind your own business, or you’ll get the same!”

The scarred man wanted to protest, but Xiao Yan stopped him. “I’d sooner starve than bow to you,” Xiao Yan declared, defiant.

The guard cursed and left. Xiao Yan, clutching his wounded back, sat down slowly. The pain made him tremble, but his eyes only grew more resolute. He knew that to survive here, to clear his name, he must endure what most could not.

He gazed at the faint light streaming through the cell’s skylight, vowing silently that no matter the hardship, he would never give up. He would live, uncover the truth, and bring Li Mo and his allies to justice.

Days passed, each one a torment. Li Mo, it seemed, did not want him dead too soon; each day, barely edible food was sent in, just enough to keep him alive. The guards harassed him constantly.

Yet Xiao Yan remained unbroken. The more difficult things grew, the clearer his mind became. He replayed the details of his framing, seeking flaws.

He recalled Wang Lun’s corpse, Li Mo’s false smile, the skill of the masked attackers. It was all too coincidental—clearly orchestrated with care.

“Scarface, you said you overheard Li Mo and Vice Minister Zhang’s secret deal. Do you know what they were trading?” Xiao Yan asked.

The scarred man thought, “Not sure of the details, but I heard them mention ‘salt permits.’”

“Salt permits?” Xiao Yan’s heart leapt. Salt permits, government licenses for salt trade, were worth a fortune. If Li Mo and Vice Minister Zhang were trafficking them, it was a grave crime.

“That’s right. I heard they planned a big deal at the end of the month.”

Xiao Yan nodded, deep in thought. The end of the month—just days away. If he could gather evidence, expose Li Mo and Vice Minister Zhang, perhaps he could clear his name.

But locked in prison, how could he find proof?

He remembered his trusted aide, Zhao Zhong, formerly his subordinate at the Hanlin Academy, now a minor official in Jingzhao Prefecture—loyal and discreet. If only Zhao Zhong knew of his plight, perhaps he could help.

But how to get word to him? Xiao Yan stared at the iron bars, pondering.

An idea came when Old Wang, a taciturn but kind-hearted jailer, passed by with a water bucket. Sometimes he would sneak food to prisoners.

“Brother Wang,” Xiao Yan whispered as the old man approached.

Wang looked up, wary. “What is it?”

“I need you to deliver a message to my aide, Zhao Zhong. If you help, I’ll make sure you’re rewarded.”

Old Wang hesitated. “Recorder Xiao, passing messages is forbidden. If I’m caught, I’ll be finished.”

“I know it’s dangerous, but I swear you will not help me in vain. You’ll be aiding the court in ridding it of traitors.”

Meeting Xiao Yan’s earnest gaze, and recalling Li Mo’s misdeeds, Old Wang finally agreed. “All right, just this once. What’s the message?”

Xiao Yan gave Zhao Zhong’s address and his request. Old Wang committed it to memory and left.

Watching him go, Xiao Yan felt a surge of hope. This was his only chance.

Old Wang did not disappoint. During an errand, he found Zhao Zhong and relayed Xiao Yan’s plight.

Zhao Zhong, alarmed, knew Xiao Yan was upright and could not have committed murder. He resolved to clear his superior’s name.

Following Xiao Yan’s instructions, Zhao Zhong began secretly investigating Li Mo and Vice Minister Zhang’s dealings, especially the rumored salt permit trade. He was cautious—any slip could be fatal.

After days of effort, Zhao Zhong found that Li Mo and Vice Minister Zhang met often in private, and Vice Minister Zhang had recently moved a large sum of money for unknown reasons.

These findings, though not yet conclusive proof, were enough to raise suspicion. Zhao Zhong relayed the news to Old Wang, who brought it to Xiao Yan.

Xiao Yan was heartened. The clues were not yet solid evidence, but the trail was clear. If they kept digging, the truth would come to light.

Meanwhile, Li Mo heard of Xiao Yan’s attempts to communicate and was enraged. He bribed the guards, instructing them to “take care” of Xiao Yan—preferably with an “accident” in the cell.

The guards, paid off, intensified their abuse: withholding food and water, beating him for the slightest reason.

Growing weaker, Xiao Yan’s resolve only strengthened. Li Mo’s desperation proved he was close to the truth.

Scarface, seeing Xiao Yan’s worsening condition, shared his food and encouraged him. “Recorder Xiao, you must endure. I believe you’ll get out and clear your name.”

Xiao Yan nodded gratefully. “Thank you, brother. I will hold on.”

As the end of the month approached, Zhao Zhong’s investigation bore fruit. He discovered Li Mo and Vice Minister Zhang planned to conduct their salt permit trade on the last night of the month, in an abandoned granary outside the city. Zhao Zhong passed this information to Old Wang, who relayed it to Xiao Yan.

Xiao Yan was elated—this was his best chance. He instructed Old Wang to tell Zhao Zhong to bring officers to the granary that night and catch the culprits red-handed.

He, too, prepared for that night, knowing Li Mo would likely make another attempt on his life. He braced himself for the worst, hoping Zhao Zhong would succeed.

The night of the end of the month was shrouded in misty moonlight; Chang’an, silent and still. In the abandoned granary on the outskirts, however, lanterns burned brightly, tension thick in the air.

Li Mo and Vice Minister Zhang sat at a table, counting a pile of salt permits, greedy smiles upon their faces.

“Vice Minister Zhang, this is quite a haul,” Li Mo said, eyes gleaming. “Once we sell these, we’ll make a fortune.”

Vice Minister Zhang grinned. “Of course. But let’s be careful—no slip-ups.”

“No worries,” Li Mo replied. “This place is secluded; no one will find us. And once the deal’s done, Xiao Yan will be out of our way—permanently.”

At that moment, hurried footsteps sounded outside. Faces paling, Li Mo and Vice Minister Zhang stood.

“Something’s wrong—someone’s coming!” Vice Minister Zhang hissed.

“Hide the permits!” Li Mo urged.

As they scrambled, the doors were kicked open. Zhao Zhong stormed in with a team of officers, surrounding them.

“Li Mo, Vice Minister Zhang—you are caught trafficking government salt permits. Surrender!” Zhao Zhong declared.

Both men’s faces turned ashen. They knew they were finished.

“Zhao Zhong, you dare arrest us? We’re court officials!” Li Mo blustered.

“And what of it? Break the law, and you’ll answer for it,” Zhao Zhong retorted. “Take them away!”

The officers seized them, evidence in hand.

Meanwhile, in the Jingzhao prison, the bribed guard crept to Xiao Yan’s cell with a rope, intending to strangle him in his sleep.

But as he opened the cell, Scarface leapt up from his bunk and kicked him in the gut. The rope fell from the guard’s hand as he cried out in pain.

“What are you doing?” the guard stammered.

Scarface sneered. “I’m showing you that Recorder Xiao is not yours to harm.”

With that, he tackled the guard, and after a brief scuffle, bound him with his own rope.

The noise woke Xiao Yan, who, seeing the scene, was deeply grateful. Scarface had saved his life.

“Thank you, brother,” Xiao Yan said.

Scarface smiled. “No thanks needed. We’re brothers here—we look out for each other.”

Just then, shouts echoed from outside. Xiao Yan knew Zhao Zhong must have succeeded.

Soon, Zhao Zhong and the officers arrived at his cell. Seeing Xiao Yan unharmed, Zhao Zhong was jubilant.

“Recorder Xiao, we did it! Li Mo and Vice Minister Zhang are caught with the goods.”

Tears of relief welled in Xiao Yan’s eyes. At last, his name would be cleared and he would see the sun again.

Zhao Zhong opened the cell, helping Xiao Yan out. Scarface was released as well, smiling with satisfaction.

“Congratulations, Recorder Xiao,” Scarface said.

Xiao Yan clasped his hand. “Thank you, brother. If not for you, I’d be dead. I’ll never forget your kindness.”

Scarface laughed. “No need. Just remember—there are good men even in this prison.”

Xiao Yan nodded, leaving the prison with Zhao Zhong.

Stepping outside, he looked up at the bright moon, drew a deep breath of fresh air, and felt new life surge through him.

The case of Li Mo and Vice Minister Zhang was swiftly adjudicated. With irrefutable evidence, they were sentenced to death and their families punished. All officials connected to them faced justice.

Xiao Yan’s name was cleared and he was reinstated to his post at Jingzhao Prefecture. After this ordeal, he became even more composed and resolute. He knew the perils of officialdom but would not abandon his principles. He remained steadfast in his commitment to justice and the people.

He did not forget Scarface’s kindness. Investigating his case, Xiao Yan found he, too, had been framed, and secured his exoneration.

Freed, Scarface was moved to tears. He wanted to stay and serve Xiao Yan, but was gently refused.

“Brother, you have your own life. Go and live as you wish. If ever you need help, seek me out.”

Scarface nodded and left Chang’an, embarking on a new journey.

Nor did Xiao Yan forget Old Wang and Zhao Zhong. He recommended them for reward and promotion, ensuring their service was recognized.

At last, the snow in Chang’an ceased, and sunlight bathed the earth in warmth. Xiao Yan stood before the Prefecture gates, gazing at the bustling streets, filled with emotion.

He knew his path would be long and fraught with difficulties and challenges. But he was ready. He would face it all with courage—for justice, for the people, to the very end.