Chapter 61: State Law and Household Discipline

Soon after, a constable from Zhen’an Prefecture entered the main hall, followed by a patrolman carrying a tray of evidence.

“My lord, we found three paper effigies, vermilion embroidered needles, yellow talismans, and other items hidden in the bedding of Wang Zhangshi’s bedroom—all tools used in witchcraft to harm others.”

Liu Binfang carefully examined each item on the evidence tray, then waved his hand; the yamen runner understood and carried the items to Jia Zheng and Jia Mu for inspection.

Jia Zheng saw that the three paper effigies bore the names of himself, his wife, and Jia Cong, with blood-red embroidered needles driven into their heads, necks, and hearts—grotesque and sinister, sending a chill through his chest.

Jia Mu, elderly and superstitious, found these objects even more repulsive; she glanced at the names on the effigies and the dense clusters of bloodied needles, turned pale, and dared not look again.

Thus, she failed to notice that the birth times of Jia Zheng and Lady Wang did not match.

But even if she had noticed, what could it change? The names written on the effigies—Jia Zheng, Lady Wang, and Jia Cong—were undeniably true.

Wang Shanbao’s wife was merely a serving maid; it was natural she did not know the birth times of the Second Master and Second Lady, yet her witchcraft against her masters was undeniable proof.

Liu Binfang bowed to Jia Mu and said: “Madam Duke, these paper effigies were found in Wang Zhangshi’s room, each inscribed with the names and birth times of the Assistant Minister and his wife, and of Master Jia Cong.”

Jia Cong bowed to Liu Binfang, then turned to Jia Mu and said: “Grandmother, Wang Shanbao’s wife has long been arrogant and venomous in the Eastern Courtyard—everyone hates her.”

Since I came of age, she has constantly oppressed and scolded me, even withholding my monthly silver allowance, and drove away every maid at my side—until they died!”

Liu Binfang frowned: “What is it you wish to say, Master Cong?”

Jia Cong continued resolutely: “She has broken state law—and violated household rules!”

Outside these gates, state law is stern; within them, household discipline cannot tolerate her!”

If this wicked woman walks out unscathed, what becomes of Jia family’s moral code? Where is the dignity and blessing left by the late Duke?”

Everyone knows this foolish woman is my personal attendant—this stirring of trouble drags me into it too.

Jia Cong added: “If we do not enforce household discipline, outsiders will think Jia family’s morals are lax and our authority weak.”

Without enforcing discipline, rumors will spread endlessly.”

His words rang true: state law is stern, household rules even less forgiving! Otherwise, what becomes of the blessing and dignity left by the late Duke?”

Wang Shanbao’s wife began wailing and protesting her innocence, but the constable struck her hard across the face; as they moved to take her away, someone in the hall suddenly cried: “Wait!”

We thought her evil ended here, but she used witchcraft to harm others—harming Jia Cong was bad enough, yet she dared target the Second Master and Second Lady too! Such a vile servant is beyond pardon!”

Beside her, Lady Xing, her face swollen, stared at Jia Cong in terror—this beast was pouring oil on the fire.

Jia Zheng’s face flushed with emotion; Lady Wang was startled.

These words struck Jia Zheng, Lady Wang, and others with dread—if this wicked woman were taken away unharmed, what would outsiders think of the Jia family?

In the green gauze alcove, Tan Chun, Daiyu, and the other sisters listened, hearts stirred—what a remarkable Third Brother Cong!

Jia Mu looked at Jia Cong with complex eyes—this grandson she favored least, yet possessed a heart as exquisite as brocade.

State law is stern, household rules cannot tolerate!

Jia Cong’s words echoed through the hall, ringing with startling clarity.

They will suspect Jia family secretly condones such a traitorous servant who uses witchcraft against her masters—rumors will rise, and may spiral beyond control!”

All turned toward the voice, surprised—the speaker was Jia Cong.

Every word cut like a blade, striking precisely where it hurt, leaving no room for rebuttal.

“Wang Zhangshi’s witchcraft is proven beyond doubt; I shall take her back to the Ya now. Apologies for the disturbance to your household.”

Jia Mu suddenly felt: the descendants of the Duke should be like this!

Too bad this boy was born to the wrong mother.

Was his speech truly to uphold Jia family’s honor—or to avenge the maid who drowned herself? Hard to say.

He meant to see Wang Shanbao’s wife dead! Witchcraft is a capital crime under state law, yet he spoke like a blade—refusing her even a single stroke of household punishment before she left.

So young, and never before did I see it—his heart is truly cruel. Perhaps only such a one can truly hold the family together.

But remembering her late husband, and the shame of her eldest son bringing a courtesan into the house, any flicker of admiration faded.

Jia Zheng stepped forward, face flushed with indignation: “Grandmother, Cong’s words are right—state law is stern, household rules cannot tolerate her! This wicked woman must be punished by household law before she leaves.”

Jia Mu, weary, said: “I am tired. See to it yourselves—do not bring shame to the Jia family.”

After Jia Mu left with her personal maid, Daiyu, Tan Chun, and the other sisters in the green gauze alcove returned to Rongqing Hall, leaving only Wang Xifeng and Jia Lian.

Jia Zheng, furious, ordered Lai Da to flog Wang Shanbao’s wife fifty strokes to uphold household discipline.

Previously, thirty strokes were considered severe; Jia Zheng hated Wang Shanbao’s wife so intensely he broke custom and demanded such harsh punishment.

Nearby, Liu Binfang sensed something wrong: “Master Jia, since this woman is your servant, your household may enforce its own discipline—I shall not interfere.”

“But she is a suspect in the Ma Daopo case—fifty strokes will likely kill her. How am I to explain this to the Prefect?”

Jia Cong suddenly spoke: “Then break both her legs—she will not die, yet household discipline will be upheld.”

Liu Binfang drew in a sharp breath—this boy’s heart is cruel indeed.

Wang Xifeng, Jia Lian, and the steward Lai Da all paled.

Jia Zheng frowned in thought: this vile servant who used witchcraft against her masters must be severely punished to deter others and restore discipline—otherwise, the servants will rise in rebellion.

Yet fifty strokes would leave her barely alive, hindering the authorities’ interrogation—only Jia Cong’s solution would suffice.

Lai Da hesitated, glancing at Jia Zheng, who glared: “Carry out the punishment! Do as Master Cong says!”

Lai Da looked at Jia Cong with complex eyes, then ordered servants to drag Wang Shanbao’s wife away to receive her punishment.

Wang Shanbao’s wife struggled desperately, to no avail—she screamed hysterically: “Jia Cong, you bastard born of a courtesan, how cruel your heart!”

After two curses, she realized her mistake and pleaded: “Third Master Cong, Great Master Cong, I didn’t drive Zhi Shao to her death—she jumped into the river herself! Have mercy on me!”

Her pitiful cries echoed through the Eastern Courtyard; the maids and old women in the yard stared at Jia Cong in terror.

Yet he stood firm in the main hall, his expression cold and sharp as a blade, silent as he watched the woman dragged away—his eyes held not a trace of pity.

Jia She and Lady Xing beside him seemed entirely ignored—but at this moment, could they dare object?

They could only stare at Jia Cong in fear, afraid he would utter something even more horrifying.

The personal attendant of the eldest son’s wife used witchcraft to murder the second son’s household—Jia She and Lady Xing were the prime suspects; they did not know what Wang Shanbao’s wife might say at Zhen’an Prefecture.

Just look at how she ranted in court, dragging Jia Cong into it—on the brink of death, what lies won’t this wicked woman utter?

Jia She and Lady Xing felt doom approaching—they cared nothing for whether the household punishment was fair.

They even suspected Jia Cong’s suggestion to break her legs instead of flogging her was malicious.

Better to beat the wicked woman to death with fifty strokes—so she cannot live to speak mad words and drag the two of them down with her.

Outside the main hall came the crack of the bamboo rods—barely ten strikes, followed by Wang Shanbao’s wife’s piercing scream, then silence.

Her legs must have been broken.

(End of Chapter)