Chapter 505: The Matter is Resolved

“Uncle speaks with great reason.”

After Zhu Shouren finished, Zhu Ping’an gave a slight nod, his expression one of agreement. Then he turned toward Feng Hushu and said calmly, “A single brush cannot write two different ‘Zhu’s.’ My uncle and my family share the same lineage—how could he possibly scheme to seize our land? Feng Hushu, do not slander my uncle with baseless accusations.”

Hearing this, Uncle Zhu Shouren straightened his back even further, as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. A faint smugness crept into his heart, and he couldn’t help but admire his own quick thinking.

‘So it was this simple… If I had known, I wouldn’t have bothered sneaking away earlier.’

A man, he told himself, must always think long-term—and he felt quite pleased with his own foresight.

At this point, Uncle Shouren was no longer worried about the matter of the land. Instead, his thoughts had already drifted toward the upcoming county examination. Zhu Ping’an was now a sixth-rank official—and not just that, but a top-ranked scholar. If Ping’an were to put in a word on his behalf, it would be far more convenient than going through roundabout channels to curry favor with Magistrate Liu.

As the thought settled in his mind, Uncle Shouren could almost see the coveted title of xiucai flying toward him. A smile began to bloom uncontrollably on his face.

“My lord, every word I’ve spoken is the truth!” Feng Hushu cried, lifting his head, his voice trembling with urgency.

“That’s enough.” Zhu Ping’an shook his head and raised a hand to stop him. His expression grew stern, a trace of anger surfacing. “Words alone are no proof. I, Zhu Ping’an, am not one to listen to one side only. Say no more.” When he spoke the words ‘no proof’, his tone sharpened noticeably.

“Ping’an speaks well,” Uncle Zhu Shouren added, stroking the short beard on his chin, his voice rising and falling with practiced cadence. “Our Zhu family is one that values both scholarship and honest labor. The teachings of the sages—gentleness, kindness, respect, frugality, humility—our family has always been a model for the lower river region…”

Feng Hushu, however, was on the verge of collapse. ‘I’m telling the truth—why won’t Lord Zhu believe me?! he thought frantically. Today’s land measurement—even the matter of taxation—none of this was my idea alone! It was your uncle who came to me first, bringing thirty taels of silver, and only then did all this happen!’

If he had to bear this alone, he would surely be ruined. It was far better for two people to share the burden than for one to carry it alone.

No proof…?

No proof…

Suddenly, something flashed through his mind.

Wait—I have evidence! I have proof!

His eyes lit up instantly. In a flurry of movement, he thrust his hand into his sleeve and began fumbling inside, before pulling out a sheet of paper covered in writing and stamped with fingerprints.

“My lord! I have evidence—please take a look!” Feng Hushu said, unfolding the paper with both hands and holding it up.

“An agreement was even written?” Zhu Ping’an’s voice rose slightly, as if surprised. He cast a subtle glance at his uncle before turning his gaze to the document. With just a brief sweep of his eyes—no more than a heartbeat—the entire content of the contract was already clear to him.

‘Written Agreement

This agreement is made by Zhu Shouren of Xiahe, who hereby entrusts Brother Feng Wei of Huaining County Office to go to Xiahe tomorrow to measure the farmland belonging to his second younger brother’s household, in order to assist with the transfer of said land. In return, Zhu Shouren willingly pays twenty taels of silver. This agreement stands as proof and shall not be contested. As firm as a mountain, as irreversible as rolling stones.

Contracting Party: Zhu Shouren
Witness: Feng Weizhong
Additional Witness: Tang Deji
Date: April 29th, 31st Year of Jiajing’

Zhu Ping’an had barely finished scanning the document—it hadn’t even taken a full second—when suddenly, a dark blur flashed past, accompanied by a gust of wind.

In the next instant, Uncle Zhu Shouren lunged forward like a tiger descending from the mountains. Without a word, he snatched the agreement straight from Feng Hushu’s hands, tore it cleanly in two, and—without the slightest hesitation—stuffed the pieces into his mouth. A few quick chews, a single gulp—and it was gone, swallowed whole.

In that moment, Uncle Shouren moved with astonishing speed and agility, as if possessed by some divine force. Snatch, tear, chew, swallow—each action flowed seamlessly into the next, smooth as running water.

Feng Hushu, who had been holding up the document, felt only a rush of wind. When he looked again, the paper in his hands had already vanished—into Uncle Shouren’s stomach.

The surrounding villagers stood frozen, their eyes wide in stunned disbelief…

Zhu Ping’an watched quietly as his uncle destroyed and swallowed the evidence, a faint smile lingering on his lips.

The goal has been achieved.

At this moment, no paper was better than paper.

“Gulp… utter nonsense!” Uncle Shouren declared indignantly after swallowing the document, pointing angrily at Feng Hushu. “Who knows where you found that scrap of paper, trying to deceive my Ping’an! How could I stand by and do nothing? Hmph!”

“You—!” Feng Hushu pointed at him, nearly driven mad with rage. He felt an overwhelming urge to take off his shoe and slap him across the face. How can someone be this shameless?! Yesterday, when he came begging for help, he had been all smiles and humility, practically groveling like a servant…

“You what?!” Uncle Shouren snapped back, pressing the attack. “Weren’t you the one who just called my younger brother’s wife a ‘village woman’?!” His finger stabbed forward accusingly, as though he were the very embodiment of righteousness. “Facing a lady of sixth-rank status, you neither bowed nor showed respect—instead, you insulted her?!”

“I…” Feng Hushu’s mind went blank.

At that moment, he felt as though his entire world had collapsed. Being called out for that offense was nothing short of fatal.

“What ‘I’? Answer me—was it you or not?!” Uncle Shouren pressed relentlessly.

For a fleeting instant, Feng Hushu felt the urge to do something utterly unthinkable to this shameless man. But when he noticed Zhu Ping’an’s calm yet piercing gaze, his resolve crumbled. Forget the contract—forget everything. In a few hurried steps, he rushed to Madam Chen and dropped to his knees, kowtowing repeatedly.

“This student was blind and failed to recognize your status—please forgive me, madam! I was wrong, I was truly wrong!” he pleaded, his forehead striking the ground again and again.

“I dare not accept such apologies,” Madam Chen said coldly, stepping aside.

Seeing Feng Hushu bowing and begging, Uncle Zhu Shouren couldn’t help but smile, as though those kowtows were directed at himself. Pride swelled within him—his quick wit, his adaptability—if he had lived in the Spring and Autumn or Warring States period, surely he would have been a master strategist, a famed persuader among men.

But just as he was basking in his self-satisfaction, a sharp pain suddenly struck his back.

He turned his head—

—and saw Old Master Zhu, face flushed with fury, gripping a freshly snapped stick, glaring at him with blazing eyes.

“F-Father…” Uncle Shouren shrank back instinctively.

“Father? Don’t you ‘Father’ me! I have no such disgraceful son!” the old man roared, raising the stick and bringing it down without hesitation.

“Old man, what are you doing?!” Grandmother Zhu cried out, heartbroken, rushing forward to block him.

Seizing the opportunity, Uncle Shouren darted behind her, scrambling in a most undignified manner to avoid the blows. Old Master Zhu pursued relentlessly, striking whenever he found an opening.

Grandmother Zhu wailed and pleaded, caught between them.

In the chaos, Uncle Shouren stumbled out of the crowd, fleeing in disarray, with Old Master Zhu chasing close behind…

“His Excellency the Magistrate has arrived!”

A voice called out from afar. Soon, the county magistrate could be seen approaching on horseback, accompanied by several yamen runners.

“Your Excellency has come from afar—I failed to welcome you properly. I beg your forgiveness,” Zhu Ping’an said with a smile, stepping forward and offering a respectful salute. “I have prepared only simple tea and modest wine at my humble home. I hope you will not find it lacking.”

“How could I dare? You humble me, my lord,” the magistrate replied, returning the salute with equal courtesy. “I heard that Lord Zhu has returned safely, and I could not contain my joy. I have long admired your vast learning but never had the honor to meet you—now that you have summoned me, how could I refuse?”

After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Zhu Ping’an led the magistrate into his home.

The villagers gradually dispersed.

Some time later, people saw Zhu Ping’an and the magistrate emerge together, both smiling, their conversation clearly having been most agreeable.

Zhu Ping’an escorted the magistrate to his horse and watched as he and his entourage departed.

Among them, Feng Hushu followed behind, his face deathly pale, his body limp—as though all strength had been drained from him—like a lifeless fish dragged along in the current.