Chapter 103: A House That Accumulates Goodness Is Sure to Have Surplus Blessings

Lei Sanxiang, hearing this, walked up to Lin Jiye and raised a palm as big as a winnowing fan, making as if to slap him down.

Lin Qian stopped Lei Sanxiang: "No violence."

That slap carried too much force; Lin Qian feared one blow might kill the great master outright.

A dead man was no great matter—what mattered was that they hadn't yet asked where the silver was hidden.

Lei Sanxiang stepped back to one side.

Lin Qian said to Xie Er: "Go untie the gags on the masters, madams, and stewards of each household branch."

Xie Er, resigned, did as told.

Lin Qian said to Bailangzai: "Take a few men and first search the places we marked out earlier."

After Bailangzai left, the ropes in the mouths of the household masters were all untied. The crowd, faces twisted in pain, spat out the dirt from their mouths—for a time, the women's hall rang with a ceaseless chorus of ptoo, ptoo, ptoo.

"Speak—where is the silver hidden? If you don't, every half-incense-stick, I kill one person." Lin Qian's voice was cold and stern.

"If you heroes need money, please take it from the accounts room—all the household silver is kept there." Lin Jiren said in a trembling voice.

"Do I need you to tell me about the accounts room?" Lin Qian said. "What I'm asking is where the rest of the silver is hidden."

At these words, the faces of the Lin household crowd below all changed color.

Lin Jiren pleaded: "Hero, our household delights in charity—we have opened free schools and porridge stalls throughout the county town, and have long enjoyed a spotless reputation…"

As he spoke, a crewman came in from the rear courtyard carrying a casket, and set it down in the hall.

Opening it, they saw it full of silver gleam—a chest of standard ten-tael snowflake silver, stacked neatly, about three hundred taels in all.

"Shipmaster, found under the bed in the Third Master's quarters."

The two crewmen finished speaking and returned to the rear courtyard.

The Third Master's body trembled; he dared not raise his head.

Lin Qian's voice carried not a trace of emotion: "The half-incense-stick is up. We'll make an example of the Third Master first."

With Xie Er pointing out the Third Master, several crewmen nearby seized and pinned him down, drew their blades, and made to stab him on the spot.

The Third Master's face was pressed against the cold floor, squashed out of shape, and he struggled and cried out: "There's silver, there's silver—I have more silver!"

Lin Qian waved a hand, and the crewmen withdrew.

The Third Master said: "In the southwest corner of my bedchamber, move the wardrobe aside—beneath the stone slab, there's another five hundred taels."

Lin Qian sent crewmen to fetch it.

"Fine, Third Brother!" Lin Jiren roared in anger. "So the household silver really was embezzled by you!"

The Third Master shrank back, cowering, not daring to look at him.

Old Master Lin had been joyfully celebrating his birthday in the daylight; now, at night, he knelt here. The contrast was too great to accept at once. His grizzled beard and hair trembled as he muttered: "The Book of Changes says, a house that accumulates goodness is sure to have surplus blessings. Even if my Lin family has no surplus blessings, we should never have come to this…"

Lin Jiren took up the thread, continuing to appeal to emotion, tears and voice flowing together: "Exactly—not to speak of distant matters, take last year's great flood: our household gave up our own fields to channel the floodwaters, drowning over a thousand mu of cropland to save the whole city's people. The entire Taizhou Prefecture knows of this deed—the Prefect himself wrote a plaque for our family in his own hand…"

Lin Qian's words carried neither joy nor anger: "The tenant farmers who drowned in that flood—you never mention them, do you."

Lin Jiren hurriedly said: "Not many, not many! Only a hundred-odd tenant farmers drowned—truly not many…"

"The entire Lin household numbers barely a hundred souls. By your logic, even if I killed every one of you, that wouldn't be many either?" Lin Qian's tone was flat.

Lin Jiren was stumped, frozen stiff on the spot.

He could not understand—how could the lives of a renowned clan's members be compared to tenant farmers?

Three more crewmen came in from the rear hall, setting one large and one small chest on the ground.

When opened, both were packed full of snowflake silver.

Lin Qian swept a glance over them—the large chest held about a thousand taels, the small one about five hundred.

"Shipmaster, the small chest was found in the Third Master's room; the large one was found in the ancestral hall."

The several crewmen withdrew.

Lin Qian turned to the hall: "Still not talking? The half-incense-stick is almost up."

Lin Jiren said: "Hero, the Lin household's tenant rents are the lowest in all Huangyan County…"

Lin Qian casually pointed at one of the Lin clan members. Crewmen dragged the man out like a dead dog, pinned him before the hall, and drove a blade into his back.

A cloying, sweet smell of blood spread; dark red blood snaked along the cracks between the floor tiles, winding its way out.

The rest of Lin Jiren's words caught in his throat, unable to come out. The Lin household crowd in the hall fell silent as cicadas in winter.

Four more crewmen carried in two chests, setting them down with a dull thud. As usual, they opened them—inside was neatly stacked snowflake silver, about two thousand taels.

The prize pool had accumulated to three thousand eight hundred taels.

"Shipmaster, these two chests were found beneath the floor tiles in front of the ancestral tablets."

"You villains! How dare you defile my ancestral hall!" Old Master Lin wailed.

Seeing this, Lin Qian said: "Did you bring the genealogy?"

"Brought it."

A crewman handed over a red cloth bundle and opened it—inside was a thick stack of documents, the topmost papers relatively new, growing yellower toward the bottom.

The moment this thing was brought out, Old Master Lin was like a goose with its neck seized—his voice tightened, and his puffy eyes seemed about to bulge out as he stared fixedly at the genealogy.

Lin Qian had a crewman fetch a candle, placed the genealogy on the table, casually picked up the topmost volume, and brought it near the flame.

Old Master Lin said: "Wait!"

Lin Qian paused. The genealogy was barely an inch from the candle flame, its edges already slightly singed.

"Alas! Enough—this old man still has a hundred-odd taels of emergency silver in his room. Take it, hero."

A sneer curled at the corner of Lin Qian's mouth as he brought the genealogy closer to the flame and set it alight.

"Don't! Don't burn it, don't burn it…" Old Master Lin wailed loudly, as if it were he himself being burned.

All night, so many of the Lin household's guards and servants had died, and Old Master Lin had not furrowed a single brow.

Just now, a Lin family relative had been stabbed to death in the hall, and Old Master Lin had not shed a tear.

A single worn-out book, yet it had him weeping profusely—truly laughable.

He brought it close to the candle flame, and the genealogy caught fire. One by one, the names of Lin clan members were devoured by the flames, blackening and yellowing, turning to charcoal dust.

The entire genealogy burned through, and Lin Qian tossed it into the middle of the hall, where it gradually became a ball of fire, consumed until nothing remained.

Heavy footsteps sounded again from behind the hall, and the crew members carried in five or six chests one after another.

They pried open the lids, and a treasure's glow spilled forth—inside were jewelry and ornaments, loose bits of silver, land deeds, and documents, clearly gathered from the various branches of the household, especially the women's quarters.

"Shipmaster, we searched the entire rear courtyard—this is all there was." A crew member clasped his hands and reported.

Lin Qian's brow furrowed slightly. The silver in the hall added up to no more than ten thousand taels—compared to a mansion this grand, a fleet this large, and a family lineage this old, it was clearly far from sufficient.

Lin Qian said, "Search the front courtyard again."

The crew members received the order and dispersed, moving without any obstruction, as if they had been born knowing the way.

The women's hall was not large. As the crew members moved about, one accidentally bumped into Lin Zhishu. Lin Zhishu's body twitched—and Lin Qian caught it with his eyes.

Lin Qian stepped forward and kicked him: "Stop pretending. Go kneel over there."

Lin Zhishu rose nimbly and shuffled over in small steps to kneel among the clansmen.

Lin Qian took out another genealogy, brought it close to the candle, and as the flames licked and danced, it turned to charcoal.

The old patriarch let out a miserable, piercing wail.

Lin Jiren paid no attention to the genealogy—he only stared at Lin Zhishu, his gaze full of concern.

Seeing this, Lin Qian set down the third genealogy and pointed one finger at Lin Zhishu.

A crew member strode forward and pressed him to the ground.

Lin Qian stepped up, planted his foot on the man's head, drew his blade, and thrust.

"Stop!" Lin Jiren shouted. "I'll confess! Don't take my son's life!"

(End of chapter)

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