Chapter 227: The Agony of the Prison Cell

Zhen'an Prefecture Prison.

A woman's piercing scream echoed through the dim, deep corridor, sending chills down the spine.

Beneath the dim oil lamp at the prison entrance sat a square table, cluttered with several bundles of coarse paper-wrapped braised meats.

Chief Liu Liu Erzhen leisurely drained his cup of wine, utterly ignoring the screams reverberating through the prison.

The jailer beside him eagerly refilled his cup and asked deferentially, "Chief Liu, why are they already torturing that woman and her boy? They were just brought in—what crime did they commit?"

Liu Liu Erzhen glanced at the jailer and said, "That woman earned money she shouldn't have, and stole from a noble. Now the aggrieved party demands justice, but she won't confess—so we must use force."

As he spoke, he pulled out a five-tael silver ingot and handed it to the jailer. "Keep your mouth shut about this. If it goes well, you'll benefit too."

The jailer's eyes lit up at the silver. He had served as jailer in Zhen'an Prefecture Prison for years and had seen too many dirty deeds; accepting money to stay silent was never a good sign.

He knew Liu Liu Erzhen was no generous man—this single gift was worth two months' salary, meaning the gains from this affair must be substantial.

Fortunately, she had fainted twice already, so the jailers had paused the torture; if they continued, she doubted she could survive.

At this moment, the woman's screams in the corridor began to weaken, no longer as sharp as before.

She was just a woman, never before enduring such heart-rending pain, yet she still refused to confess.

It was Master Jia who pulled her out of the abyss of despair—he miraculously found her daughter and gave her a life of dignity.

Liu Liu Erzhen frowned and ordered the jailer, "Go check on her. The woman can't take much more—tell the guards to be careful. Don't kill her!"

Zhen'an Prefecture, Prefect Zhang Shou's official residence.

The matter had not gone smoothly—the yamen runners had not caught the owner of Xiuniang Perfume Shop, only the shopkeeper's wife and her assistant.

After half a lifetime of experience and hearing enough of the world's ways, she knew full well: her arrest and that of her assistant had nothing to do with overdue taxes—it was because someone coveted the shop's perfume formula.

Word had just come from the prison: despite the torture, the shopkeeper's wife still refused to reveal the perfume formula or the location of the workshop.

When the jailers saw she wouldn't speak, they applied the whip, then the leg clamp.

In the dark cell, Feng Shi had fainted twice from the torture, yet said nothing. The jailers, following the jailer's orders, temporarily ceased and turned to question the boy.

The years of suffering she had endured seemed even more unbearable than the pain of whip and clamp.

Today, Zhen'an Prefecture's runners had suddenly seized her and thrown her into prison. At first, she had been confused and terrified—but when they demanded the perfume formula and workshop location, she understood everything.

Once they had uncovered Xiuniang Perfume Shop's background and confirmed it posed no threat, Zhang Shou naturally agreed.

A few days ago, Jia Rong of Ningguo Prefecture had come to him for help, offering the Jia family's connections with the Ministry of Rites' Bureau of Merit Evaluation as leverage, promising ten percent of the profits as reward, plus a thousand taels in gratitude.

…

A woman's basic conscience and sense of gratitude forbade her from betraying him; this fierce inner conviction allowed her to barely endure the torture just now.

Feng Shi had visited the perfume workshop several times—she knew its location well, for she understood it was the foundation of the shop's business.

For over a decade, her once-prosperous home had been burned to ashes, her husband vanished, her daughter kidnapped; she had been forced to live in the disdain of her own father, each day and night filled with heart-piercing pain.

Feng Shi was just an ordinary woman; though her life had been full of hardship, she had never endured such torment.

If a woman died under excessive torture in prison, it would be hard to cover up.

This made Zhang Shou feel the matter was becoming troublesome.

At that moment, a runner came to report that Jia Cong of Lady Rongguo Prefecture wished to see the Prefect.

Zhang Shou froze—he had no idea why Jia Cong would suddenly come to see him.

Zhang Shou was no stranger to Jia Cong; they had met once years ago at Prince Jiaoshun's Shuyun Villa.

Later, when the servant witchcraft murder case occurred in Lady Rongguo Prefecture, he had witnessed Jia Cong's extraordinary nature firsthand.

In the past two years, Jia Cong had topped the provincial examination, gained fame in the imperial exams, and become renowned across the land for his poetry and prose—he was the most outstanding scion of the Lady Rongguo Jia family.

Anyone could see his future was boundless, and with such powerful family backing, Zhang Shou, ever worldly, dared not neglect him—he immediately ordered the runner to bring Jia Cong in.

…

Just as Baozhu told Jia Cong that the man who had repeatedly harassed the shop was Lai Lai Shangrong, the gatekeeper at the second gate arrived to report—he met Jiang Liu at the back gate, and there was also Qu Qu Hongxiu.

Upon hearing that Feng Shi and Liu Ping had been imprisoned by Zhen'an Prefecture on charges of owing taxes, and recalling all that had come before, he understood the truth at once.

From beginning to end, this entire scheme was Jia Zhen's greed for Xiuniang Perfume Shop's wealth and formula, aiming to seize it by deceit.

Zhen'an Prefecture's arrest of them was almost certainly tied to Jia Zhen—powerful nobles, using the power of local officials to oppress the innocent, had always acted this way.

But Jia Zhen never dreamed that Xiuniang Perfume Shop was his own property—he would never let Jia Zhen succeed.

For the first time, he truly understood how vile and shameless a noble scion like Jia Zhen could be in pursuing his selfish desires.

He told Qu Qu Hongxiu to go immediately to the perfume workshop outside the city and move all people and goods to safety.

Two boys had been managing the workshop all along—one named Wang Dequan, the other Zhou Zhou Guangcheng—both were among the five orphans Qu Qu Hongxiu had rescued from Dezhou years ago.

He gave Jiang Liu further instructions, then set out alone for Zhen'an Prefecture to negotiate.

…

Behind the official chambers of Zhen'an Prefecture.

Zhang Shou watched Jia Cong enter his residence.

Three years ago, he had met Jia Cong once at Prince Jiaoshun's Shuyun Villa; now, after years apart, the once-awkward child had grown into a refined, jade-like youth.

"It's been years since we last met, Master Jia. Your brilliance surpasses even your past self. I hear you've just been named the top scholar of Yongzhou's provincial examination—congratulations."

Zhang Shou thought his flattery would win favor, but Jia Cong's expression remained calm, even cold.

He had no idea why Jia Cong had come today, and now, seeing his expression, he felt a sudden unease.

Jia Cong did not beat around the bush—he spoke plainly:

"Prefect Zhang, I've heard that the shopkeeper and assistant of Xiuniang Perfume Shop in the west city have been arrested by Zhen'an Prefecture on charges of owing taxes—is this true?"

Zhang Shou's heart tightened—he was just worrying about this very matter, and now Jia Cong had asked about it directly!

His words were blunt, carrying an implicit accusation, radiating an air of unshakable confidence.

He knew this youth was no ordinary man—not only the newly crowned top scholar, but also personally appointed by the Emperor to a seventh-rank post, serving as an observer in the Ministry of War as a candidate, and a scion of the supreme noble house of Lady Rongguo Jia.

Each of these credentials alone demanded caution.

Though his own rank as Prefect of Zhen'an was higher than Jia Cong's, he dared not act superior; though annoyed, he forced himself to reply, "Yes, it is true."

"Prefect Zhang, as I understand, the standard cap for taxes paid by small urban shops is two hundred taels per month. Xiuniang Shop has paid around two hundred taels monthly for the past half-year—how can there be any arrears?"

Zhang Shou knew this custom well—"owing taxes" was merely a pretext to seize the shop. Now that Jia Cong had exposed it outright, he was momentarily speechless.

He changed tack and asked, "What is your relationship to these two?"

(End of Chapter)