There are two three-legged celadon incense burners burning in the main room. The cigarettes are slowly exhaled to dispel the remaining smell of alcohol. The door and curtains are all rolled up. The sun shines through the window panes and falls on the floor, walls and paintings in pieces. .
With the light behind him, Mo Lingfeng sat in the rose chair like a little old lady, pointing at the large plate on the square table: "This, this."
Mo Qianlan bowed and stood in front of the table, lowering his head to look at the carved lacquer box, which contained dried bergamot, sugar-glazed rhyme fruits, candied dates, smiles, and candies. He picked up the silver chopsticks and took out the candied dates that Mo Lingfeng wanted to eat. Xiao Jie'er picked up a plate.
Mo Lingfeng held the small plate, grabbed the dimple and stuffed it into her mouth, squinting her eyes intoxicated - she had a sweet tooth.
"What are you doing standing at the door?" Mo Qianlan put down the silver chopsticks, wiped his hands, and sat down on another rose chair next to the square table, "Come in."
The soaked wooden box and sheepskin seal, as well as the memorial letter whose handwriting was completely unclear, were placed randomly in front of the box. Half of the box was outside the table, in a precarious position, as if it was not as important as the candy box.
When the three people standing outside heard his call to come in, they all took a breath, raised their feet, carefully stepped over the threshold, and took a few steps inside.
Wu Jin stood among the three of them, bowed his hands and said, "Wansheng pays homage to Jiedushi."
After saluting, he folded his hands and folded his hands, bowing his head deeply, waiting for Mo Qianlan to leave.
The wind was erratic, and when it got through his torn sleeves, it was quiet. You could hear the sound of leaking water from the copper kettle coming from the east, and the sound of water dripping on the copper plate was the sound of the passage of time.
Cheng Ting cautiously took a step behind Wu Jin and buzzed like a mosquito: "Uncle."
Qi Chang had nothing to say. He huddled behind Wu Jin and knelt on the ground. He felt that Mo Qianlan was so huge that he could be crushed into the cracks of the ground with one finger.
Mo Qianlan was angry after drinking. At this time, his stomach was churning, and he frowned impatiently. Mo Lingfeng raised a candied date and handed it to his mouth. He turned his head and took a bite, his eyes scanning Qi Chang first.
The candied dates were too sweet. He picked up the tea cup, took a sip of tea, and lazily looked away to look at Cheng Ting: "Cheng San, you are still the same as you have been for decades - no, I heard that your appetite has increased."
Cheng Ting asked him to stare, and he was already sweating. At first he thought he was reminiscing about old friendships, but then he realized that he was ridiculing himself for being as stupid as a child, only eating more food but not his head.
"I......"
Before "I" came out, Mo Qianlan had already put down the tea cup, tapped his fingers on the square table twice, and ordered Yin Bei: "Hit him with twenty sticks, send him to his home, and inform Magistrate Cheng."
Before Cheng Ting could open his mouth, he started to tremble.
Twenty sticks!
Will he die?
He also has to tell his father!
Although Magistrate Cheng was a civil official, he had also practiced martial arts. When he beat his son, it was the same as going into battle to kill the enemy. If he knew that Cheng Ting had destroyed the memorial, a slap could send Cheng Ting thousands of miles away.
He stammered and wanted to defend himself, but the words kept rolling in his throat, and finally he cried out loud, and the words that came out were like a dog barking.
Mo Qianlan waved his hand: "Drag him out and beat him."
In order to show Cheng Ting's high status, Yin Bei personally stepped forward and carried him out. Not long after, a throat-breaking scream came from the corridor. At first, the sound shook the roof tiles, and gradually, the sound was like mosquitoes and flies. In the end, there was no sound at all - Yin Bei sent someone to take him back to Cheng Mansion.
Wu Jin stood on the spot, his hands and feet were cold, and a layer of sticky cold sweat broke out on his forehead again. His mind was still blank. He didn't even know when Zhao Shiheng came in. He only felt that the sound of more leaking water was deafening, ringing in his mind. ear.
When Mo Qianlan saw that Mo Lingfeng had emptied the plate, he reached out and took the plate away to prevent her from eating any more. Then she leaned over and brought the cup of tea in her hand to Mo Lingfeng's mouth, and Mo Lingfeng took it. Drinking tea with hand.
He retracted his hand and looked at Qi Chang, the gray worm who was on all fours on the ground. He had already understood Qi Chang's lies without Qi Chang opening his mouth.
He weakly uttered two words: "Death with a stick."
The sound of these two words echoed in Wu Jin's ears.
Wu Jin saw beads of sweat falling from his forehead, falling on the flat bluestone bricks, and silently breaking into eight petals. The words of pleading were rolling on the tip of his tongue, ready to be spoken out.
He gritted his teeth and kept telling himself not to act rashly, because Mo Qianlan hadn't sentenced him yet, and every move he made would make him fall deeper into the quagmire. However, he still couldn't help but raise his head and met Mo Qianlan. Lan's cold gaze.
It seemed like he was mocking him for being a mud bodhisattva who was crossing the river. He couldn't protect himself, but he still had time to care about others.
Qi Chang collapsed on the ground, his soul was shattered, and he begged for mercy with tears streaming down his face to avoid death - he was just having fun, why was he beaten to death?
"If the crime does not lead to death," Zhao Shiheng said, "I'll give him twenty sticks and let him fend for himself. If he doesn't deserve to die, send him to Jiu Si Xuan as an errand."
Now that he had spoken, Mo Qianlan waved his hand casually, and someone immediately came forward and picked up Qi Chang like a dead dog. Mo Qianlan said again: "Pull him further away, it's noisy."
Soon, the only person on trial in the room was Wu Jin.
Mo Lingfeng took another candy and ate it coldly but enthusiastically.
Mo Qianlan stretched out his hand and rubbed his forehead vigorously. The alcohol was still brewing in his heart. Without asking questions first, he looked at Wu Jin from head to feet, and then from feet to head, as if he wanted to see through his internal organs and soul.
After looking at him for a long time, Mo Qianlan raised his hand and tapped the table twice, and said coldly: "Did you find the memorial book?"
"Kongkong" was heard twice, falling cruelly on top of Wu Jin's head. Wu Jin nodded: "Yes."
Mo Qianlan saw that he never gave up, and indeed he had a strong character. Suddenly, he became interested and wanted to force him to give up his uprightness: "If you haven't seen the memorial, I will fight with the steward who made the mistake." Ten sticks, go home, if you read the memorial privately, twenty sticks won't be enough."
He asked softly and slowly: "Did you read it or not?"
The sweat on Wu Jin's head fell into his eyes. He opened his eyes to see something, but everything he saw was rippling water. The shadow of the sun reflected a group of snow-green, and the fragrance in the room also flowed on it.
He has never told a lie in his life.
"Student... not..." He wanted to say without looking, but he couldn't open his mouth.
You must be loyal when you say something. A lie will make it difficult for Zhu Pi to see the light of day, and he will need endless lies to fill it in the future.
He licked his lips and spoke with great difficulty: "The students saw it."
As soon as the words came out, he straightened his posture, and what he was thinking in his heart was "Don't blame yourself internally, and don't deceive yourself externally." However, vaguely, he thought that the snow-blue color was also adding fuel to the fire behind him, making it impossible for him to deceive others. .
Mo Qianlan sneered: "Since you have seen it, just say it silently."
Immediately, a servant moved a square table and placed it in front of Wu Jin. He took out pens, inks, paper and inkstones from the east side and spread them on the table. A maid wiped her sleeves and polished them. When the ink was good, she picked up a good one from Bijia Mountain. Pen, presented with both hands.
Wu Jin put pen to paper.
"I'm very happy. How are you, my sister? You can come to Beijing during the Changchun Festival and let me see you."
