Qian Yougong was still laughing. His weight loss had rendered his clothes loose and ill-fitting, fluttering about him like a torn banner in the wind. Yet the laughter soon ceased, his face contorted with alarm as he raised a hand and barked, "What are you doing? This is the Jingzhao Prefecture!"
Jingzhao Prefecture governed twenty-three counties, including Wannian and Chang'an. It was the largest administrative institution in the imperial capital—an austere land beneath the Son of Heaven's very feet, where the law held unyielding sway.
Ye Changgen had already removed the bow slung across his back. He replied to Qian Yougong, "Yes, this is the Jingzhao Prefecture—your very own Hall of Yama."
Indeed, he had come bearing sustenance—but the kind meant to be delivered by a single arrow.
The jailer panicked upon seeing Ye Changgen aim his bow at Qian Yougong. "Master Ye, you can't do this!" He rushed forward to restrain him, only to be brushed aside.
In desperation, the jailer pleaded, "The court has already ruled! Yesterday, the Grand Magistrate sentenced Qian Yougong to execution after next year's autumn assizes. There's no need to be provoked. If you defy the law now, you forfeit your chance at scholarly honors!"
"I appreciate your concern," Ye Changgen said calmly. "But I have already bid farewell to my teacher. I am no longer a student of the academy—I have no need for titles or honors."
Sensing danger, the jailer turned and ran to summon reinforcements.
Ye Changgen's tall frame stood resolute before the cell. He took a step back and drew the bow to its full length.
"Qian Yougong," he declared, "this arrow is for deceiving my sister into marrying into your accursed household."
The arrow soared from the string, whistling through the air.
A scream of terror rang out from within the cell. Qian Yougong leapt to his feet in a frenzy—but the arrow had already struck.
To everyone's surprise, it did not pierce his body. Instead, it passed beneath his arm, pinning his robe tightly to the prison wall.
Drenched in fear, Qian Yougong burst into a deranged laugh. "Aren't you supposed to be a master archer? Can't even hit your mark?"
Ye Changgen's expression remained impassive as he loosed another arrow.
It thudded into the wall again—this time threading between Qian Yougong's legs, embedding itself without so much as grazing him. Yet the force was immense; dust and debris shook loose from the stone.
Suddenly, Qian Yougong understood. Ye Changgen wasn't missing his mark. He was choosing precisely where to strike.
"This arrow," Ye Changgen said coldly, "is for conspiring with Yan Congxiao to commit acts of vile depravity."
Another arrow. This time, he took aim at Qian Yougong's chest.
And at last, Qian Yougong broke.
A master archer, loosing from such close range—if he shot to kill, there would be no escape. Though death awaited him next autumn, he still had a year of life left. His family had begun their bribery of the Ministry of Justice; as long as the execution order bore no imperial seal, there remained hope.
But he could not die here, not like this, beneath the arrows of the Ye household.
A crashing roar filled his mind. His heart pounded wildly, erratically. Cold sweat drenched his back, pain tightened around his chest. Were it not for the arrow pinning him to the wall, he would have already collapsed.
"Ye... Brother-in-law…" he stammered, shivering with terror, "It was a misunderstanding! I swear, a misunderstanding! I'll apologize—I'll kneel to Ye Rou and beg her forgiveness—just please…"
His face turned ashen. "Don't kill me… please…"
"This arrow," Ye Changgen said, face grim as iron, "is for the unborn child my sister lost—one life for another."
The bowstring twanged.
With a final whistle, the arrow embedded itself above Qian Yougong's head, nailing his disheveled topknot to the prison wall. As with the others, not a single wound touched his flesh.
But he no longer moved.
The jailers burst in, unlocking the cell door and rushing to check on him. They called his name, slapped his cheeks—he was utterly unresponsive. He had soiled himself, and though his body was not yet stiff, it showed no sign of life.
One guard gingerly pressed his finger beneath Qian Yougong's nose, then withdrew in panic.
"Master Ye!" he cried. "You… you've scared him to death!"
Ye Changgen stowed his bow and replied, "There is no need to worry. I will present myself to the authorities and confess my actions."
And true to his word, he went to the front office and surrendered.
When Prefect Liu Yan of Jingzhao Prefecture heard what had happened, he rushed to the prison to inspect the body. As the jailers had said—there were no wounds.
Yet Qian Yougong was dead.
The coroner confirmed it: the heart had seized and ruptured. He had indeed died of terror.
The case was simple, but Liu Yan was at a loss.
By the law, Ye Changgen had sought revenge and taken a life, and should be sentenced to death. But the man he sought vengeance upon had already been condemned. Moreover, Ye Changgen had drawn no blood—Qian Yougong had been frightened to death by three arrows.
Ye Changgen denied intent to kill. He claimed he had only meant to frighten him—how could he have known Qian Yougong was so faint-hearted?
He knelt in the grand hall, face full of grievance, muttering, "How can a man be so easily frightened?"
Liu Yan was meticulous in his rulings. He detained Ye Changgen temporarily, then went to consult his superiors at the Ministry of Justice.
But the Minister was too occupied with other matters. Liu Yan waited in vain, then resorted to petitioning the emperor directly.
Thus, the monarch—just returned from the Qiqiao banquet—was once again left speechless by the actions of the Ye family.
"Nailed to a wall… frightened to death?" the emperor murmured, tossing aside his thick memorial scrolls and gesturing for tea. Judging by Liu Yan's slow, plodding narration, this tale would be a long one. But the emperor had nothing but time.
Liu Yan laid out the details and bowed deeply. "Your Majesty, Ye Changgen is a descendant of the Duke of Anguo. I cannot discern whether his actions were intended to kill or merely to intimidate, and thus I do not know how to sentence him."
A sister wronged, a brother taking action—such emotion was understandable.
The emperor sipped his tea and nodded solemnly. "So Lord Liu's dilemma lies in how Ye Changgen might prove he meant no real harm."
"Precisely so."
Liu Yan stood dumbly in place, endlessly circling his own thoughts, unable to decide.
If it was only intimidation, the penalty would be light. But if he meant to kill, the crime was grave.
"How did he defend himself?" the emperor asked.
Liu Yan answered steadily, "Ye Changgen claimed he had already enrolled in the Ministry of War, preparing to join the army and earn his merit on the battlefield. He said that with his accuracy, had he wished to kill, Qian Yougong would have died from the first arrow. That Qian Yougong survived three shots proved he never intended to strike true. He placed the blame on Qian Yougong's cowardice."
And thus, his own archery became the very proof of his innocence.
"Archery…" the emperor mused, glancing at High Steward Gao Fu beside him with a complicated expression.
The day after the Qiqiao banquet, Madam Ye was rebuking Ye Jiao at home.
"Outrageous! How dare you deceive His Majesty? That is high treason!"
The Ninth Prince, Li Ce, was present as well, bearing numerous gifts. He quickly intervened, "Don't blame Jiao'er—it was my idea."
Madam Ye turned to him and said, "Your Highness is not one to act thoughtlessly. But Jiao'er is rash—I know my own daughter."
One daughter was gentle to a fault, the other too impetuous.
Ye Jiao pouted and knelt, too afraid to speak.
Li Ce added, "At the time, had Jiao'er not said what she did, His Majesty would have betrothed her to Prince Su. Surely, Madam Ye, you would not have welcomed that match?"
Calling her "Jiao'er" so affectionately—he certainly knew how to play his part.
Madam Ye was left speechless. At last, she sighed, "Our Ye family dares not tie itself to the royal house again."
Ye Jiao's aunt, Ye Ying, had once married Prince Chen, the emperor's brother. But Prince Chen had dared rebel and was granted death. Ye Ying, implicated, was spared but sentenced to a life of mourning at his tomb—withered like chaff in her youth.
Because of that, Madam Ye would never allow her daughters to marry into the imperial clan again.
Hearing this, Li Ce finally understood.
He softened his tone. "Jiao'er…"