Chapter 24: Rumors

The journey back to the capital took twelve days.

The trip there had taken seven days; the return took five days longer. It wasn't because they traveled slowly, but because of Lin Yuan's injuries.

Although the two bruises on his back had mostly faded, the tendons near his lumbar spine, damaged by the hidden force, hadn't fully healed. The bony horse allocated by the Ministry of War was jarring to ride. After a day of jostling, the pain at night was so severe he couldn't even turn over.

Old Yu spent several evenings giving him massages, each session lasting at least half a shichen. Using his True Qi, Old Yu slowly cleared the blockages along the meridians, all the while chattering like an old mother hen.

"You're only at the early stage of the Houtian realm, yet you took a blow from a Houtian mid-stage hidden force staff and didn't cough up blood on the spot. That's a testament to your tough life."

"What's the use of a tough life?" Lin Yuan mumbled into his bedding. "It wasn't tough enough to withstand those two staff blows."

"If you had trained to the Houtian mid-stage, those two blows wouldn't have damaged your tendons."

"If I had trained to the Houtian mid-stage, those two blows would have felt like tickles. Then how would Fang De have killed me?"

Old Yu couldn't follow his logic and shook his head in confusion.

On the journey back, Liu Fang was unusually quiet.

He rode his horse at the front of the procession, accompanied by only two attendants. He didn't speak to anyone, nor did he look at anyone.

Lin Yuan could roughly guess what he was thinking.

Liu Fang was in an awkward position. He was the person Second Princess Jiang Lingwan had inserted into the disaster relief team, with the duty of oversight.

Yet, under his very nose, Fang De embezzled two hundred and eighty thousand taels, and Liu Fang hadn't reported a word of it.

Fang De attempted to assassinate a court official and set fire to the camp, and Liu Fang stayed hidden in his tent all night without emerging.

No matter how he wrote his report, Liu Fang couldn't wash himself clean.

Writing the truth would be admitting his oversight failure.

Not writing the truth was impossible, as Lin Yuan's memorial had already been sent to the capital ahead of his. If the two documents were compared, Liu Fang wouldn't just be guilty of negligence; he'd also be charged with harboring a criminal.

So, Liu Fang only had one path—write the truth, take the fall, shift all responsibility onto Fang De, and at most accept a punishment for negligence.

Second Princess Jiang Lingwan would shield him from some of the pressure, but that was all.

On the sixth day of travel, the procession stopped to rest at a small place called White River Town. The town wasn't big—one street, two rows of houses, and a single tea shed.

While Lin Yuan went into the tea shed for a drink, he unintentionally overheard two traveling merchants chatting at the next table as they rested.

"Have you heard? Something big happened in Huainan."

"What happened?"

"The official the court sent to oversee the disaster relief silver embezzled hundreds of thousands of taels! He was exposed on the spot by a minor official from the capital! That minor official was almost burned alive, but he miraculously survived!"

"Really?"

"It's true! An old acquaintance of mine who runs goods to Luzhou saw it with his own eyes. That minor official was covered in injuries, standing on the relief distribution platform, checking the accounts entry by entry. He scared that silver overseer into fleeing overnight!"

"What's the name of this minor official?"

"I think his surname is Lin. A seventh or eighth-rank remonstrance official from the capital... I think his name is... Lin Yuan?"

Lin Yuan's hand, holding the tea bowl, paused.

He turned his head to look at Old Yu.

Old Yu was leaning against a post, picking his teeth. Hearing this conversation, he grinned at Lin Yuan.

"You're famous, Lord Lin."

Lin Yuan didn't speak.

He found he couldn't quite describe his feelings about this "fame."

It wasn't excitement; it was even a bit irritating.

Fame meant more people watching him. More people watching meant it would be even harder to die in the future. More people would protect him, Zhao Chong would be more wary of him, and people in the court would pay closer attention to his every move.

He had originally only wanted a swift and painless death—the cleanest path.

But the warmth of that bowl of congee still lingered on his tongue, and the image of that kneeling sea of wheat still pressed heavily on his chest.

He couldn't say for sure if he still wanted to die.

Back when he wrote "Don't be in a hurry to die; take care of business first" in his little notebook, he thought it was just a temporary measure.

But now that the business was done, the dried ink of the line "Can I die now?" stared back at him from the page. He stared at it for a long time, but the feeling of satisfaction he had when writing it was gone.

This path was becoming more and more twisted, and no direction felt right.

But this was precisely how things were unfolding.

The further north they traveled, the more widely the news from Huainan spread.

By the eighth day, when passing through a county town, there was already a storyteller at the tea house by the city gate recounting Lin Yuan's story, complete with many exaggerated details.

Some said he single-handedly defeated over a dozen constables. Others said he was burned for half a shichen and still didn't die. There were even those who claimed he had the innate destiny of a general star, born to be the nemesis of corrupt officials.

Lin Yuan felt his scalp tingle listening to it.

"Me, fighting a dozen constables?" He looked back at Old Yu. "I couldn't defeat a single Houtian mid-stage constable."

"It's just a story; the more it spreads, the more fantastical it becomes," Old Yu said dismissively. "In another half month, it'll probably become you fighting a hundred men single-handedly."

Li San, who had been quiet nearby, muttered, "Why not? Lord Lin took so many knife and staff blows without making a sound and still stood there reading the accounts. Anyone else would have collapsed long ago."

Old Yu was taken aback. He wanted to retort, opened his mouth, then closed it again.

Lin Yuan gave a bitter smile and didn't respond.

On the tenth day, the procession reached the heart of the central plains.

When they stopped at a relay station for the night, the stationmaster, upon seeing Lin Yuan's Inspector's waist token and Huo Qing's Dingguo Duke's Estate token, became excessively attentive.

Not only did he serve tea and water, but he also specially slaughtered a chicken and stewed a pot of soup for them.

"Sir, are you perhaps that Inspector Lin from Huainan?" the stationmaster asked with an ingratiating smile. "A few days ago, some traveling merchants passed through and mentioned the Huainan affair. I dare to ask, are you the Lord Lin who publicly checked the accounts on the relief distribution platform?"

Lin Yuan was stunned.

"It's spread this far?"

"Traveling merchants have been talking about it these past two days," the stationmaster said, rubbing his hands. "I haven't heard the details clearly, only that you uncovered a massive embezzlement case in Huainan and nearly lost your life. Extraordinary, truly extraordinary."

Lin Yuan's heart gave a lurch.

If the news had spread this fast, what about the capital? Did Zhao Chong know yet?

If Zhao Chong knew, what would he do?

Lin Yuan looked at Huo Qing.

Huo Qing was drinking the chicken soup, bowl still in hand. He lifted his eyelids slightly, his gaze heavy as it swept over Lin Yuan, and replied with just one word—"Go."

The twelfth day.

The silhouette of Chang'an appeared on the distant horizon.

The towering city walls glowed with a dark golden light under the setting sun. The flow of people entering and exiting the city gate was dense and bustling, the sounds of carts, horses, hawkers' cries, and children's laughter all mingled together.

Everything was exactly as it had been when he left.

But Lin Yuan knew that what awaited him upon his return was certainly not peace.

He touched the little notebook inside his robe, took a deep breath, nudged his horse's sides, and the skinny horse trotted with short, jarring steps through the gates of Chang'an.

As he entered the city, he suddenly overheard the guards at the gate whispering.

"Look, that's Lin Yuan."

"Which one?"

"The one on the skinny horse. The remonstrance official from Huainan who isn't afraid of death."