Chapter 23: Beg Me

"Little madman?"

Yan Jing wore a look of cynical playfulness, his voice lazy. He had been summoned to the Ministry of Justice in the middle of the night. Having left in a hurry, he lacked his usual polish; he wore no official robes, only a casual white silk garment, and his hair was unbound. Yet, he remained an exceptionally handsome and dashing figure.

"Discussing official business at this hour? Are you not annoyed?"

As soon as he entered the dim room, Yan Jing sprawled out onto the daybed he usually used for naps and picked up a teacup to sip.

"I have rarely seen you handle any actual work. Yet you say I am annoying?" Ling Zhao sneered. "If using the Black Armor Army to surround Zuiyan Pavilion just to settle a score for your little cousin counts as official business, then I, too, am too lazy to do it."

Yan Jing took the bait, and seeing Ling Zhao’s cold expression, he smiled languidly. "Oh? Is our General Ling angry?"

Their families had been close for three generations, and they had grown up together. Though they were constantly at each other’s throats, they were as close as brothers.

Ling Zhao said nothing, only casting a cold glance at him. "Is your life too long?"

"Who told you to walk around with such a gloomy face all day? I’m just teasing you." Yan Jing checked his expression again and asked, "Tell me, why did you call me here in such a rush in the middle of the night?"

"I tortured Han Xiao."

"..."

The atmosphere stiffened for two beats.

"Well, that’s not a major issue," Yan Jing cleared his throat. "Half a year ago, Han Xiao took a fancy to a married woman, forced himself on her three times in front of her husband, and drove her to hang herself. Her husband tried to seek revenge but failed, and he was beaten to death by Han. The higher-ups suppressed the case to save face for the Duke of Korea. You can just use this case to offset things. Remember to notify Minister Lou at the Ministry of Justice later and have him locked up for a few years. Don’t let the Duke of Korea grow suspicious yet, so as not to alert the enemy."

Ling Zhao rubbed his nose, offered an "oh," and hesitated.

"There’s more?" Yan Jing was suddenly anxious, wondering what else this ancestor of his had done that required him to clean up the mess in the middle of the night.

"Mo Shichang..."

"Yes. What about him?"

"I..."

"Did you force him three times too?"

"I cut out his tongue."

"..."

Yan Jing’s temples throbbed. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, thinking that being forced three times would have been better than this.

Although Mo Shichang was a dissolute wastrel, his character was foul, but his crimes did not warrant such a punishment; at most, he was guilty of private misconduct. If someone were accidentally injured in a private scuffle, it could be explained away. But for Ling Zhao to openly mobilize the Black Armor Imperial Guard for a personal vendetta was a major crime. However, with Han Xiao’s history of driving a woman to her death, there was room for a different narrative.

But the Mo family affair was something Ling Zhao could not argue against, and the Mo family would never let it go. To force the Mo family to settle, only the government could intervene to punish him.

Yet the government had its own constraints. Though Ling Zhao was still a young man, he was the Emperor-appointed General of Southern Pacification, and the Emperor held the Ling family in high regard, treating Ling Zhao like his own son.

If the sentence were too heavy, the Emperor would be pained; if it were too light, it would not be convincing. Once the news spread throughout the capital by morning, the officials in the Censorate would likely accuse the Ling family of disregarding the law and abusing their favor. They would surely use this opportunity to impeach him, and even the Emperor might not be able to protect him.

Yan Jing, usually known for his flirtatious eyes, now wore a solemn expression.

"You have always been steady. What kind of love potion has that little cousin of yours fed you to make you act so insane? If this isn't handled properly, and you can't give those old stubborn fools an explanation, are you not ruining your own future?"

Ling Zhao was silent for a moment. "Do you have any ideas?"

Unexpectedly, Yan Jing smiled, his flirtatious peach-blossom eyes curving. "Beg me."

Ling Zhao looked at him helplessly. "Hand it over."

"Hand what over?" Yan Jing feigned ignorance.

"The item you wanted to give her. Give it to me; I will deliver it for you and put in a good word. How about that?" Ling Zhao said, exercising patience.

Yan Jing knew when to quit. Seeing that a cold and isolated person like Ling Zhao had already said such things, he raised an eyebrow and agreed. Delivering the gift was more important than teasing him.

"If Mo Huaixiu still intends for his daughter to marry the Second Prince, then the Mo family will never dare to blow this out of proportion," Yan Jing said with certainty.

Ling Zhao’s expression flickered.

"Their family is counting on this marriage to become royalty. If he makes a scene, even if the Emperor punishes you, it will be hard to tell if his daughter’s marriage will even go through."

Yan Jing continued lazily, "Think about it: a crippled son and a daughter rejected by the royal family—if that gets out, it will be much more sensational than his son losing his tongue or his eyes!"

"Even so, you must put on an attitude of contrition." He tapped the desk with his fan handle.

"How?"

"Tomorrow morning, go to the Eastern Palace, report the situation, and ask the Crown Prince to preside over it. Receive fifty strokes in the palace, then have yourself carried home in a sedan chair to make a show of it. Rest for ten days or half a month with your backside bare, and it will all be over."

Upon hearing this, Ling Zhao frowned slightly, his vortex-like eyes fixed on Yan Jing with an unreadable expression.

"Thirty... thirty strokes will do."

Under his direct gaze, Yan Jing felt his hair stand on end, a chilling aura surrounding him, and he couldn't help but shiver.

"Believe it or not."

"I believe it." Ling Zhao wore a half-smile, snatched the bone fan from Yan Jing’s hand, tucked it into his belt, and said dashingly, "I’m off."

"Wait!" Yan Jing stopped him and added, "You must give that fan to her."

"Understood."

Ling Zhao waved his hand with the fan in his grip, walking away like a passing stranger. He did not look back once, leaped onto his horse, and galloped away, vanishing in an instant into the purple-red morning light.

It was still early. Upon entering the manor, he glanced around; besides the night watchman nodding off under the gallery, the maids and servants were not yet awake. The entire estate felt rarely tranquil.

Whether it was fifty strokes or a hundred, dealing with Mo Shichang brought him a rare sense of joy. His steps were swift, his feet light.

As he passed, the branches swaying near the corridors brushed against the flickering gallery lanterns.

With a light spring, he vaulted over the wall and entered Xiao Ming’s bedchamber with practiced ease.

"Hush!" He gestured to Qingzhu, who was about to stand up and bow, lowering his voice: "How is Ming’er?"

Qingzhu looked worried, tears welling in her eyes as she shook her head. "Miss was caught in the rain. She fainted in the carriage yesterday and has been running a high fever all night. She is so cautious, fearing to disturb others, that she wouldn't let us summon a physician. She endured it all night, and now she is burning up." Before she could finish, Qingzhu’s tears fell.

After yesterday's distressing events, even an immortal would have found it difficult to bear.

"Go bring the physician on duty."

"But the young lady..."

"I will watch over her."

Qingzhu looked at Ling Zhao with heavy, worried eyes, clearly uneasy. With the young lady so deathly ill, what if this devil took advantage of the situation? Besides, if the physician came and saw him here, what would become of the young lady’s reputation?

Ling Zhao narrowed his eyes, seemingly reading Qingzhu’s thoughts. "You are a loyal little maid, but I am not as despicable as you think."

*Hmph,* she thought, *you were hugging, holding, and kissing our young lady—if that’s not despicable, what is?*