Chapter 5: Reap What You Sow (Part Two)

This was also the first time Zhao Dezhao, having come to this era, saw his convenient uncle up close—the future Emperor Taizong of Song, the legendary charioteer of the Gaoliang River, and the notorious Poison King as well as the originator of the infamous scandal—Zhao Guangyi.

Just as recorded in the history books, though he inherited the Zhao family’s tendency toward a darker complexion and a heavier build, Zhao Guangyi, a civil official by background, possessed an extraordinary presence and bearing. His every gesture was refined and graceful, exuding a regal authority that commanded respect without anger. One could tell at a glance that his status was exceptional, a man above all others.

Moreover, approaching his thirties, Zhao Guangyi’s voice was mature and charismatic. Smiling, he took the initiative to speak: “Nephew, do not blame me. Though I knew of your arrival long ago, I had an important matter to attend to, which is why I am only now coming out.”

“Don’t give me that nonsense! What a coincidence—just as I was about to lose my temper, you appear!” Zhao Dezhao felt scornful inside but obediently cupped his hands in salute to Zhao Guangyi, speaking respectfully: “Your Imperial Highness, I, Dezhao, pay my respects.”

“Nephew, no need for formality. Please, no need to stand on ceremony.” Zhao Guangyi smiled warmly, taking his place in the central seat. Then, feigning casual concern, he asked, “What brings you here to Kaifeng Prefecture in person?”

Zhao Dezhao understood the importance of distinguishing the primary from the secondary and promptly replied, “Your Imperial Highness, pardon my impertinence. Some officials in Kaifeng Prefecture require thorough discipline. If left unchecked, their misdeeds may tarnish your esteemed reputation.”

His meaning was clear: he was targeting Zhao Guangyi’s subordinates, not intending to embarrass the prince himself. Unfortunately, Zhao Dezhao’s target, Shi Xizai, was currently embroiled in fierce court factional strife. Zhao Guangyi’s eyebrows lifted slightly as he immediately misread Dezhao’s intent, thinking: “The accusation points directly at Shi Ningji. Could this be a trap to force me to promise not to protect my men, only to betray me later and sever my own limbs?”

Having guessed his nephew’s aim, Zhao Guangyi was not deceived. He smiled and said, “Nephew, that is quite a serious charge. While I am not as strict as your late father in managing my subordinates, I ensure they abide by the law. Are you certain they have been acting so recklessly?”

“Uncle, I would not speak so if I did not have solid evidence. Here is the matter…”

Zhao Guangyi had intended only to patiently hear out Zhao Dezhao’s report, perhaps ask once if the death of Old Peng’s nephew was truly foul play, and then let the matter rest. But being cautious to a fault and unwilling to cede initiative, he decisively waved his hand: “Nephew, do not be impatient. Let me first inquire about the details.”

Stopping Zhao Dezhao’s narration, Zhao Guangyi turned to Yao Shu, his trusted aide, and quietly asked, “Gongmao, what is the situation? Speak truthfully.”

“Understood,” Yao Shu responded with understanding, briefly recounting the earlier events but then shifting blame: “My lord, I initially intended to send men to gather evidence at the scene and judge impartially. Yet, the prince would not heed my counsel and deliberately escalated the matter, insisting on bringing the corpse to the Censorate to cause further trouble.”

“Did I deliberately want to escalate this?” Zhao Dezhao’s anger flared anew. He retorted fiercely, “I only wanted you to find an experienced coroner to perform an autopsy. You refused and even detained the body! This case is already registered by the Kaifeng officers—how could I entrust such crucial evidence to you?”

“Nephew, calm yourself,” Zhao Guangyi interrupted again, then ordered another confidant, Chen Congxin: “Siqi, personally fetch two experienced coroners to conduct a public autopsy to ascertain the truth.”

That was not all. After summoning the coroners, Zhao Guangyi instructed: “Also, send someone to the Censorate to invite Vice Censor Liu. Since this involves officials of Kaifeng Prefecture, we must have the Censorate witness the proceedings to avoid suspicion.”

“Your Imperial Highness, there’s no need for such fuss. This case is quite simple—the deceased was murdered, not burned to death,” Zhao Dezhao cut in, unwilling to waste time explaining.

But wary of deception, Zhao Guangyi waved him off: “Nephew, wait. Let the coroners examine the body first. We’ll also ask Vice Censor Liu to witness, so all may see whether I show partiality.”

Seeing his uncle speak so plainly, Zhao Dezhao fell silent. Chen Congxin understood immediately, sending word to the Censorate and then summoning two seasoned coroners to the chamber. He instructed them quietly, “Examine carefully; do not overlook any signs of forgery. But remember, under no circumstances should you conclude the deceased was murdered and then burned to conceal the crime.”

The two coroners readily agreed and promptly followed Chen Congxin onto the stage. Under watchful eyes, they inspected the corpse and investigated Old Peng’s nephew’s cause of death. To their relief, though the cause was indeterminate, no signs of tampering were detected. No matter which office conducted a re-examination, it would be impossible to conclude the deceased was murdered.

After exchanging quiet opinions and reaching consensus, the coroners reported to Zhao Guangyi: “Your Highness, we have thoroughly examined the corpse and found no evidence of forgery. We can also rule out murder followed by burning.”

Before they finished, Zhao Guangyi was already overjoyed, Yao Shu beamed happily, but Zhao Dezhao erupted in fury, shouting, “Are you blind? Such obvious evidence you fail to see? To determine if someone was burned to death, you must first look at the mouth! Look carefully—does the corpse’s mouth contain anything?”

Surprisingly, the coroners did not awaken to his hint but looked confused and asked, “Your Highness, why look at the mouth to determine if someone was burned?”

“You haven’t read Song Ci’s Washing Away of Wrongs?!” Zhao Dezhao blurted out the question before realizing bitterly, “Oh no, Washing Away of Wrongs was only written in the Southern Song period!”

“Washing Away of Wrongs? Song Ci? What does that mean?” The coroners grew more bewildered, but Zhao Dezhao, recognizing their innocence, ceased his outburst. Instead, he bowed to Zhao Guangyi and apologized: “Uncle, forgive my ignorance. I once read an ancient text related to coroners, which recorded certain forensic techniques. After examining the body, I concluded murder was involved.”

Zhao Guangyi sensed something was amiss and quickly asked, “Nephew, how did you reach that conclusion?”

“By examining the mouth and nostrils,” Zhao Dezhao explained, drawing on his prior hospital logistics experience. “Most who die in great fires are not burned alive but suffocated by thick smoke. Their mouths and noses are filled with soot and ash, clearly showing smoke inhalation before death.”

“However, if someone dies before the fire, their breathing ceases, so no matter how dense the smoke, their mouth and nose contain almost no ash. This corpse is a perfect example: though claimed to have died in the fire, its mouth is utterly clean, indicating it was burned postmortem.”

Before he finished, Zhao Guangyi, Chen Congxin, and Yao Shu were dumbfounded. The two coroners suddenly realized this and reexamined the nose and mouth, exclaiming, “Indeed, both are completely free of soot!”

Zhao Guangyi was speechless. At that moment, a shout came from outside: “Vice Censor has arrived!” Liu Wensou, head of the Censorate, strode in with several officials, cutting straight to the point: “Prince, you summoned us. What is your command?”

“Oh no!” Zhao Guangyi felt the world spin, inwardly wailing, “What now? If I don’t tell the truth with so many witnesses, I’ll be exposed. But if I confess, neither Yao Shu nor Shi Xizai will escape. Am I to sever my own limbs today?”

Complaining was futile. At this juncture, Zhao Guangyi had no choice but to outline the situation to Liu Wensou. The latter was astonished, personally examined the corpse, and then cautiously asked Zhao Dezhao, “Your Highness, do you have a way to prove the ancient text you referenced is accurate?”

“Of course,” Zhao Dezhao responded without hesitation. “Light a large fire and throw in a slaughtered pig, then toss in a live pig tied up and burning it. Comparing their mouths afterward will reveal the truth.”

He added offhandedly, “Also, burn a pig that’s been intoxicated with wine, to prevent claims the deceased was drunk and thus didn’t inhale the ash.”

Looking at Zhao Guangyi’s pale face, Liu Wensou blinked and said, “Second Prince, to be prudent, I believe we should conduct this test on-site.”

“Digging my own grave!” Zhao Guangyi thought bitterly but reluctantly nodded and forced a smile: “I'm sorry, but I cannot assist with that request.