Chapter 887: The Weight of Confession

Shenjing, the Dali Temple official office, interrogation chamber.

Zhou Ping was one of the Dali Temple’s associate judges with seasoned wit and tactics, and Yang Hongbin held him in high regard.

Interrogating suspects was second nature to him; he had faced countless stubborn, deceitful criminals.

But Xiao Yun was no ordinary suspect—she wasn’t even truly a suspect, merely a shortcut Yang Hongbin took to secure evidence quickly.

She was a village girl of fourteen or fifteen, born in poverty, illiterate, with little exposure or insight, and a stubborn streak.

She possessed the rustic girl’s innate honesty, unwilling to speak ill of her masters—but under Zhou Ping’s searing branding iron, this resolve vanished instantly.

Though she wept as she spoke, she answered every question truthfully, yet her replies were always off-topic, rambling and disjointed, driving Zhou Ping to fury.

He was a seasoned Dali Temple associate judge who had seen every kind of violent suspect.

Yet he found it impossible to truly harm this little maid—the branding iron was merely a threat; he could never actually inflict real pain.

…

He forced patience and asked: “Tell me, when Chen Ruichang visited Hui Niang’s home, did he mention military grain depots, supply routes, or provisions—or did Hui Niang ask about such things?”

Xiao Yun’s tears had not dried; she looked confused and whispered timidly: “Sir, your words are strange. What’s this ‘yun tun’? What’s this ‘liang ban’? The mistress doesn’t like such food.”

Master Chen was a wealthy young man—he’d tasted every delicacy. He only loved to wrestle with the mistress in her room; he never spoke to her about food…”

Zhou Ping’s temple veins bulged; he reached again for the branding iron and roared: “Where did you get this fool girl? I said ‘military grain depots’ and ‘supply routes’!”

Yang Hongbin, standing outside the door listening, saw Xiao Yun trembling, speaking incoherently, and couldn’t help smiling faintly.

He peered through the window, observing Xiao Yun’s tear-streaked face, her entire body trembling with fear and unease.

Yang Hongbin excelled in interrogation—not just in rhetoric and strategy, but in his sharp insight; he studied Xiao Yun closely through the window.

He noted every gesture, every flicker of her eyes—based on years of experience, in this state, Xiao Yun dared not lie or conceal anything.

Perhaps Chen Ruichang never mentioned military grain depots to Hui Niang—or perhaps he did, but Xiao Yun simply didn’t know.

And Zhou Ping’s interrogation was too crude and blunt; it might work on wicked, dissolute rakes, but against a girl like Xiao Yun, it missed the mark entirely.

…

Yang Hongbin carefully observed Xiao Yun’s expression and noticed her face had turned pale, her hands and feet uncertain where to rest.

Yet her left hand gripped the corner of her robe, fingers unconsciously twisting—that spot should be where her pocket lay…

Yang Hongbin’s gaze sharpened; after a moment’s thought, he pushed open the door and entered the interrogation chamber. Zhou Ping was about to greet him, but Yang Hongbin raised a hand to stop him.

Xiao Yun saw this new man—he was younger than the one with the branding iron, yet far more imposing, clearly a person of importance—and her unease deepened.

Yang Hongbin’s tone was cold: “What’s in your pocket? Take it out.”

Though his words were calm, not as brutal as Zhou Ping’s, they carried an undeniable authority, laced with an inexplicable chill.

Though unwilling, Xiao Yun felt a shiver run through her, her body betraying her will—she pulled out the clenched object: a five-tael silver ingot.

Zhou Ping snatched it up: “A maid earning less than one tael a month carries a five-tael silver ingot? Who gave you this?”

Xiao Yun’s lips quivered: “Sir, this silver was given to me by the mistress—to pay for my mother’s medical emergency. Please don’t take it away.”

Yang Hongbin said: “It seems your mistress has a kind heart—she gives you silver to treat your mother.”

Xiao Yun hurriedly added: “The mistress may consort with men, and that’s improper—but she’s not evil. She’s truly kind.

The questions you asked me just now—I truly didn’t understand them. Please don’t wrong the mistress.”

…

Yang Hongbin’s mind grew certain: “Your mistress is entangled in a legal case. You must answer truthfully.

I know you’ve sold your contract for four years to earn money for your mother’s treatment and to someday marry well.

If you lie or conceal anything, you’ll never leave this place—you’ll be imprisoned and face trial.

Once convicted, female prisoners aren’t allowed to idle in jail—they’re sold to the Entertainment Bureau to serve for life; you’ll never marry cleanly again!

Without you to care for her, your mother, burdened by chronic illness, won’t live long. And if your mistress is implicated, I’ll make her die worse!

Think carefully before answering. If you still ramble and speak nonsense, your mother’s and Hui Niang’s lives are forfeit!”

Yang Hongbin’s words were icy, devoid of warmth; though not as loud as Zhou Ping’s, each phrase dripped with cold, sinister menace, sending chills down the spine.

Every word struck Xiao Yun’s weakest point, scattering half her soul—she dared not cry or protest.

Yang Hongbin held every one of Xiao Yun’s fears and taboos in his grip—far more terrifying than the searing branding iron.

…

She trembled: “I’ll speak truthfully. Please, sir, have mercy—spare my mother and mistress. I know everything—I’ll tell you.”

Yang Hongbin said: “Earlier we asked about military grain depots—not ‘yun tun.’ Military grain depots are where soldiers store provisions.

We asked about supply routes—not ‘liang ban.’ Supply routes are the paths for transporting grain. Think carefully: did Chen Ruichang mention these to Hui Niang?”

Xiao Yun shivered, frowning in deep thought; under Yang Hongbin’s pressure, she was now far more coherent than before.

The eerie atmosphere in the interrogation chamber grew subtly heavier. Yang Hongbin did not look at Xiao Yun; his fingers tapped silently on the table.

After a long while, Xiao Yun grimaced: “Sir, I truly can’t recall—Master Chen never spoke of military grain depots or supply routes to the mistress. I swear I’m not lying.”

At this, Zhou Ping could see: under Yang Hongbin’s intimidation, a girl as inexperienced as Xiao Yun dared not conceal or lie.

It was likely Chen Ruichang never leaked anything—if he had mentioned such things, Xiao Yun simply didn’t understand. His face fell with disappointment…

…

Yang Hongbin did not lose heart: “You didn’t hear them mention military grain depots or supply routes—did you hear them mention any place names?

Bao Tun Li, Yao Shan Yi, Hong Shu Ji, Dong Gang Zhen…”

Yang Hongbin’s voice was steady, calm, subtly meticulous, and unnervingly persuasive.

Zhou Ping’s eyes brightened slightly—he knew the place names Yang Hongbin cited were all military supply route relay stations.

These locations were originally military secrets, unknown to outsiders; if Xiao Yun had heard Chen Ruichang mention any of them, the leak was confirmed!

He inwardly admired: Yang Sizheng’s attention to detail was unmatched.

He himself had only asked about military grain depots and supply routes—but Xiao Yun was a village girl who couldn’t even understand the terms; even if she’d heard, she’d forget.

He hadn’t thought to break the supply route into specific place names—this method was far more precise and far more likely to extract the truth.

…

Xiao Yun heard a flood of unfamiliar place names—how could she remember them? Her face twisted in distress.

Yang Hongbin said coldly: “If you know nothing, you’re useless. You’ll never leave this place.

Your mother and Hui Niang will both suffer. Think carefully before you speak.”

Xiao Yun’s face turned white, sweat broke on her brow, her brows knotted in desperate thought.

Zhou Ping, watching, felt an inexplicable tension rise within him.

If Xiao Yun hadn’t heard these place names, their entire effort here would be wasted—and they might even alert Duan Chunjiang…

Yang Hongbin remained calm: “I’ll say the names again: Bao Tun Li, Yao Shan Yi, Hong Shu Ji, Dong Gang Zhen…

Think carefully: did Chen Ruichang or Duan Chunjiang mention these places to Hui Niang?

If you tell us everything you know, I’ll let you go—and return your five-tael silver.

The government will also grant you a reward, arrange for a renowned physician to cure your mother’s illness.

With silver in hand, you won’t need to remain a maid—you can buy your dowry and marry properly, with dignity.”

Yang Hongbin’s tone softened, filled with seduction and subtle manipulation—lulling her guard down, drawing out every hidden secret…

…

Xiao Yun heard every word—it struck straight to her heart. She thought this official was truly brilliant; these were the very things she’d longed for all her life.

Her eyes brightened, her chest surged with emotion—as if her mind had suddenly cleared.

She thought again, deeply, the chamber falling silent—so quiet a pin could be heard.

Suddenly she said: “I remember—the mistress mentioned Hong Shu Ji!”

Zhou Ping’s expression lit up with unrestrained joy; even the usually composed Yang Hongbin showed signs of excitement.

He asked: “How did Hui Niang mention Hong Shu Ji? Tell us exactly—every detail, word for word, leave nothing out.”

Xiao Yun said: “I remember, last year, while helping the mistress with her hair, I casually remarked her phoenix hairpin was old and she should get a new one.

The mistress replied offhandedly: ‘No need to rush—I’ll get a new phoenix hairpin when Master Chen returns to the capital.’

At the time, Master Chen had just returned from an imperial mission. I was curious and asked why he didn’t just buy one in Shenjing—why bring one from outside?

The mistress said that last time, when Master Chen passed through Hong Shu Ji, he saw an old gold shop with exquisite solid-gold phoenix hairpins.

The shopkeeper had learned his craft from the Oluosi people, so the design was unlike any in Shenjing. He promised to buy one for the mistress.

But recently, when Master Chen came to spend the night, he didn’t bring the Oluosi solid-gold phoenix hairpin.

I heard he suffered misfortune up north—accidentally encountered Mongols, was badly wounded, lost all his belongings, and the hairpin too…”

…

As Xiao Yun finished, Yang Hongbin’s eyes glowed with intensity; Zhou Ping exhaled in relief, then surged with wild joy.

Based solely on Xiao Yun’s testimony, whether Chen Ruichang leaked the information deliberately or accidentally, his breach of military secrets was undeniable.

The case unfolded precisely as Yang Sizheng had predicted—Duan Chunjiang used his woman as bait to extract clues about the military grain depots from Chen Ruichang.