BDSMST -Chapter 98 Decisive Evidence

Jinling, along the banks of the Qinhuai River.

Once the ancient capital of six dynasties, even under the Great Xia dynasty it remained the most prosperous city in the south of the Yangtze.

Unlike the solemn grandeur of the capital, this place exuded a gentle, lingering air of refined wealth.

Yet behind this prosperity, in a cramped alley in the southern part of the city, lived a family utterly out of place with such splendor.

Aunt Qian was in the courtyard washing a mountain of laundry. The hands that once should have known only comfort were now red and swollen from cold water, cracked and chapped.

Three years ago, her husband—Steward Qian of the Marquis of Anyuan’s household—had “suddenly died of illness” overnight. She and her two children were politely “escorted” out of the capital by the marquis’s men, given three hundred taels of silver as “compensation,” and sent back to their hometown of Jinling.

Three hundred taels was a vast sum for an ordinary family, but for Aunt Qian—who had been accustomed to fine clothes and rich food—it was little. Worse still, once back in Jinling, she discovered that relatives who once fawned over them had changed their faces. Within a year, the money had been swindled away and spent.

To feed her children, she had no choice but to swallow her pride and make a living washing clothes for wealthy households.

“Mother, I’m back.”

A clear voice sounded.

Her sixteen-year-old daughter, Lanxiang, entered carrying an empty food box, fatigue written across her face. She now worked as a helper in a restaurant, serving guests from morning till night.

“Were there many customers today? Are you tired?” Aunt Qian asked with concern.

“I’m fine.” Lanxiang forced a smile, set down the box, and crouched to help her mother.

At that moment, faint footsteps sounded from the entrance of the alley.

Two men dressed in plain cloth garments but with upright bearing stepped into the narrow courtyard.

Aunt Qian and her daughter’s hearts leapt in unison. For three years, nothing frightened them more than a stranger’s visit.

“Whom… are you looking for?” Aunt Qian stood up warily, shielding her daughter behind her.

The man in front was Wei Ziqian, who had come under Gu Yan’s orders. He had traveled a great distance and had secretly observed the household for two days before making his approach.

He did not immediately reveal his identity. Instead, he took from his robe a jade pendant of excellent quality and held it out.

“We have come at someone’s request to find an old acquaintance. Madam, do you still recognize this item?”

Aunt Qian’s gaze fell upon the jade pendant—and she froze.

It had been her husband’s most treasured possession, a gift from Censor Xie years ago. Her husband had once said that Lord Xie was a truly upright official and his confidant.

Three years earlier, sensing disaster was imminent, her husband had secretly given her this jade pendant along with a small iron box. He had instructed her that if anything happened to him, she must hide them well. One day, perhaps someone from the Xie family or the Gu family would come looking for her. Only upon seeing the token should she hand over the items.

For three years, she had lived in fear and anxiety, waiting for this day.

“You… you are…” Her voice trembled.

“We are men of the Marquis of Yongning,” Wei Ziqian said gravely. “Our marquis knows what happened to Steward Qian back then. He has sent us to seek justice—for Steward Qian, and for fairness under Heaven.”

Tears burst from Aunt Qian’s eyes.

Three years of fear, grievance, and hatred exploded at once.

She grabbed Wei Ziqian and fell to her knees. “Benefactors! You’ve finally come! My Old Qian—he died unjustly!”

With Wei Ziqian’s reassurance, Aunt Qian haltingly recounted everything that had happened three years ago.

It turned out that Steward Qian had inadvertently discovered that the Marquis of Anyuan had secretly colluded with merchants from Beiman, using the grain transport system to divert military provisions that were meant for the northern frontier, smuggling them out of the passes in batches and selling them to the enemy.

He had intended to report the matter to his friend, Censor Xie. But before he could act, Censor Xie was arrested with his entire family on charges of “collaborating with the enemy.” Steward Qian knew then that he too had been exposed. Aware that death was inevitable, he secretly recorded account books and copied correspondence, sealing them inside a specially made iron box and entrusting it to his wife.

Soon after, he was poisoned and silenced under the pretense of a “heart ailment.”

Weeping, Aunt Qian retrieved a rusted iron box from a hidden compartment beneath the bed.

“Old Qian said the Marquis of Anyuan’s power reached the heavens. If we handed these things to the authorities, it would only lead to a dead end. Only the Marquis of Yongning—only the Gu family, who never stooped to their corruption—might be able to clear the Xie family’s name… and his.”

Wei Ziqian accepted the heavy iron box, his expression grave.

He knew that what lay inside was the most decisive evidence needed to bring down a colossal parasite upon the nation.

He dared not delay. That very night, he arranged for trusted men to escort Aunt Qian and her daughter, traveling under cover of darkness back to the capital in utmost secrecy.

Seven days later—Capital City, Yongning Marquis Manor.

The study lamps burned through the night.

Gu Yan, Jiang Suisui, and Xie Zi’an—now restored to his true appearance—sat around the table, carefully examining the contents of the iron box.

Inside were over a dozen account books, detailing every batch of military grain diverted: dates, quantities, ship identification numbers, and the names of the Beiman merchants who received them.

There were also several secret letters exchanged between the Marquis of Anyuan and his accomplices, clearly outlining their scheme to shift the blame onto Censor Xie, who had been determined to investigate the case.

The chain of evidence was complete and unmistakable.

“Forged transport permits, falsified granary records—and this.” Xie Zi’an picked up a letter, trembling with fury as he pointed to a seal stamped upon it. “This is my father’s private seal! They forged it and used it on correspondence ‘proving’ communication with Beiman merchants!”

He indicated an almost imperceptible flaw. “My father was cautious. On the corner of the character ‘An’ in his private seal, there was a deliberate tiny chip—an anti-forgery mark. But this seal is flawless. It’s fake! They fabricated it to frame him!”

With this ironclad proof, the Marquis of Anyuan’s crime of forging evidence and persecuting loyal officials could no longer be denied.

“The witness—Madam Qian—has arrived in the capital and is secured in a safe house outside the city,” Gu Yan said gravely.

“The physical evidence—these account books and letters—every word condemns them,” Jiang Suisui added.

“The time has come.” Gu Yan gathered the documents back into the iron box and closed the lid.

His eyes held a resolution fiercer than ever before.

“At dawn, I will take Madam Qian and these evidences to the palace to seek an audience with His Majesty.”

With a thud, Xie Zi’an fell to his knees.

He said nothing—only bowed deeply three times before Gu Yan and Jiang Suisui.

Those three kowtows were for the hundred-plus clan members who had perished unjustly, for his father who had borne three years of wrongful infamy, and for himself—for the three years he had endured in humiliation and hiding.

Jiang Suisui helped him to his feet. “Master Xie, please rise. Dawn is near.”

Yes—dawn was near.

The shadow that had loomed over the Xie family, the Gu family, and the entire court of Great Xia for three long years was finally about to be dispelled.

Yet all of them understood: the closer one comes to dawn, the deeper the darkness grows.

How would the Emperor decide?

The chessboard had reached its final move. Once played, there would be no turning back.

This night, no one could sleep.

In the study, Gu Yan wiped down his long sword, its blade gleaming with a cold, ominous light beneath the lamplight.

Meanwhile, Jiang Suisui sat with Gu Xuan, telling him a bedtime story in a gentle voice—though the gravity in her eyes could not be concealed.

They were all waiting for daybreak.

Waiting for the final judgment that would determine the fate of countless lives.