The Great Song Dynasty's Soul-Forging in Progress

Strangely enough, as soon as the inkstone fell into the water, the gale stopped, the raging waves subsided, and the river surface instantly returned to calm, with the clouds parting and the sun shining. From then on, the legend of "Bao Gong throwing his inkstone and turning it into a sandbar" spread, and the spot where the inkstone fell into the water later became a sandbar, known as "Inkstone Isle." Through this incident, the reputation of "Judge Bao" began to spread throughout the world.

Because of his outstanding political reputation and outspokenness, Bao Zheng was transferred to the capital and served successively as a censor and a remonstrating official. In this position of "reporting matters based on hearsay," he truly became a sharp sword hanging over the heads of corrupt officials.

He impeached the cruel official Wang Kui. Wang Kui, then serving as the Transport Commissioner of Jinghu South Circuit, exploited the people under various pretexts, causing widespread suffering. However, Wang Kui had deep roots in the court and close ties with figures like Chancellor Chen Zhizhong, so no one dared to touch him. Bao Zheng submitted seven memorials, arguing forcefully with increasingly vehement language, ultimately forcing Emperor Renzong to dismiss Wang Kui. His memorial, containing the words, "Wang Kui's oppressive policies and tyrannical exploitation have brought untold suffering to the people; his crimes are unforgivable! If Your Majesty tolerates such evil, where will the laws of the land be?", remains recorded in history to this day.

He even directed his criticisms directly at Zhang Yaozuo, the uncle of Consort Zhang, Emperor Renzong's most favored concubine. Relying on his status as a relative of the emperor, Zhang Yaozuo was mediocre and incompetent yet insatiable. In a single day, he was granted four important positions: Commissioner of the Southern Court of Xuanhui, Military Governor of Huaikang Army, Commissioner of Jingling Palace, and Commissioner of the Imperial Pastures. The entire court was in uproar, but no one dared to speak out.

Bao Zheng stepped forward and, in the Golden Palace, forcefully argued that "rewards should be given for merit, not for favors." His words were earnest and incisive; in his fervor, he even stepped forward, spitting onto Emperor Renzong's face! Emperor Renzong's face turned ashen, but he ultimately had no choice but to rise and return to the inner palace in a huff. Afterwards, he complained to Consort Zhang, "You only know how to demand the Imperial Envoy, the Imperial Envoy! Don't you know Bao Zheng is an Imperial Censor?" Ultimately, Zhang Yaozuo's appointment was revoked. Bao Zheng's act of "spitting on the Emperor's face" became the most vivid testament to his upright and unyielding character.

Bao Zheng's outstanding integrity in the Censorate had already caught the eye of one person—the Hanlin Academician Ouyang Xiu.

Ouyang Xiu once privately remarked to a friend, "hope Ren's integrity is like water flowing downwards, unstoppable and overwhelming. It's not for fame, but simply his nature; in his heart, there are only the two words 'fairness'. Such a pillar of the state is precisely what should be used in times of turbulent times!"

Sure enough, when the likes of Xiangyang Prince and Chen Shimei were doing their utmost to obstruct Ouyang Xiu, Di Qing and others from suppressing the Zoroastrian bandits, "when the turbulent current was surging," Bao Zheng was pushed into the position of Prefect of Kaifeng. Faced with this chaotic situation, what should Bao Zheng do?

At this moment, Bao Zheng put down the Chenzhou case file in his hand and rubbed his temples. On his desk, besides the mountain of official documents, there were three other things: an ordinary She inkstone, a gavel, and a Kaifeng Prefecture seal covered with yellow silk that had not yet been officially put into use.

He knew the weight of this seal. It represented not only power, but also responsibility, the hope of countless wronged people, and the unimaginable pressure that was about to come.

Bao Zheng rose, walked to the window, and pushed it open. A cool night breeze rushed in, carrying with it the myriad lights and faint clamor of Bianjing City. His gaze swept over the rooftops, as if he could see the Kaifeng government office that would soon belong to him, and also the inevitable bloodshed and turmoil to come.

His face remained dark, his expression unreadable, only his eyes burning with a resolute flame in the darkness.

March 1st, Bianjing.

In the warm spring of March, though occasional chills lingered, the willow branches along the banks of the Bian River had already sprouted tender yellow buds. The wind carried the earthy scent of thawing soil and the incense aroma wafting from the distant Xiangguo Temple. This magnificent imperial capital, after experiencing a harrowing January, seemed to be slowly awakening from the languid holiday atmosphere and the lurking dangers.

Seventeen-year-old Wang Zhonghua stepped into the Bianjing East Water Gate in the early morning mist.

He wore a slightly worn blue cloth robe, a square scarf on his head, and carried a travel bag, disguising himself as an ordinary traveling scholar. Days of galloping on horseback had weathered his once handsome face, and stubble had appeared on his chin. Only his eyes remained strikingly bright, but deep within that light lay too much—worry, determination, and a trace of suppressed anger.

Upon entering the city, his first act was not to head straight for the Tianbo Mansion, a symbol of protection and hope, as pointed out by Ouyang Xiu. Instead, he found an inconspicuous little tea stall near the bustling morning market and sat down. He ate very slowly, with a bowl of scalding hot coarse tea and two hard-crusted steamed buns, but his ears, like the most alert hunting dogs, were picking up on the passing chatter of the common people around him.

"...Have you heard? The commotion at Nanxun Gate a few days ago was quite something. The personal guards of the Prince of Xiangyang's mansion actually dared to stop the Yang family's carriage!"

"Ha, isn't it all about capturing that female prisoner from Chenzhou? What's her name... Qin, Qin Tiehua?"

"What female prisoner! My second uncle works in Kaifeng Prefecture, and he said privately that the arrest warrant came suspiciously, and the charges were all rather vague..."

"Shh! Keep your voice down! Are you out of your mind? Can't you see there are hidden agents all over the street?"

"...Speaking of which, that scolding from Old Madam Zhe of Tianbo Mansion was truly satisfying! 'All the men in my Yang family are dead'? Listen to that! Only the Old Madam would dare to say something like that!"

"The Yang family is known for its loyalty and integrity, but that Chenzhou case... tsk tsk, it's a very complicated matter. It's said to involve the palace..."

Wang Zhonghua put down his teacup, gently placing the copper coin on the greasy wooden table. Excellent. The iron painting's arrival in the capital, the Tianbo Mansion's protection, the Prince of Xiangyang's forceful manhunt, and the public's vague attention and lingering sympathy—these key pieces of information corroborated what he had heard sporadically along the way. The iron painting was temporarily safe, and Liu Xinyi was temporarily unharmed, finally allowing him to relax slightly after days of tension.

But this sigh of relief was not a sign of complacency. He knew all too well that placing all his hopes on the protection of the Tianbo Mansion and the possibility of a future "petition before the Emperor" was too passive and too fragile. Public opinion and popular sentiment—these were the very things that Chen Shimei and the Prince of Xiangyang were most adept at manipulating and exploiting. Now, he would use their own methods against them.

For the next three days, Wang Zhonghua, like a silent fish, quietly blended into the most bustling part of the vast metropolis of Bianjing.

He frequented the bustling eateries of the Zhouqiao Night Market, squatted in the porridge stalls where laborers rested at the Hongqiao Wharf, and squeezed into the crowds of people listening to "historical stories" outside the theaters and brothels. More often, he chose the street teahouses and taverns where the tea drinkers came from all walks of life and were the most well-informed.

In the "Qingyin Pavilion" in the west of the city, he found a storyteller who was old and frail and could only tell old stories. He paid him fifty coins in exchange for a "newly adapted story".

"Old sir," Wang Zhonghua said, pushing a piece of silver over, his voice low. "You tell me it's an old story from a bygone dynasty, or a strange case from somewhere in the south." He continued, "The story goes like this: There was a poor scholar named… Chen Shimei. After ten years of diligent study, he achieved the highest rank in the imperial examinations and was chosen as the son-in-law of a high-ranking official in the capital. To curry favor with the powerful, he concealed the fact that he already had a wife and children. His wife, Qin Xianglian, with their two young children, traveled a thousand miles to the capital to find him. Fearing exposure, Chen Shimei not only refused to acknowledge them but also sent men to kill his wife and children, intending to silence them. Fortunately, by divine intervention, the mother and children were rescued by a chivalrous man. Then, Chen Shimei devised a vicious scheme, falsely accusing his wife of stealing official goods, making her a wanted criminal and subject to a nationwide manhunt…"

The old storyteller's initially dim eyes widened suddenly when he heard the words "killing his wife and children." As Wang Zhonghua recounted in a deep and clear voice the details of how "Chen Shimei" was utterly depraved, how "Qin Xianglian" was resilient and unyielding, and how "the two young children" were terrified and helpless, the old man was already trembling with anger, his withered hands gripping the gavel tightly.

"And then...and then what?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

"And then?" A cold glint flashed in Wang Zhonghua's eyes. "That high-ranking official's daughter was no saint either. After learning of this, she conspired with Chen Shimei to send Qin Xianglian and her child into the lion's den. Fortunately, a fairy maiden passing by rescued them, temporarily escaping their clutches. However, Chen Shimei, with his immense power, turned black into white, falsely accusing the innocent and covering up this great injustice!"

"Bang!" The old storyteller slammed his gavel, the sound not loud, but full of rage. "Beast! Worse than a beast! He deserves to be torn to pieces! He deserves to be boiled in oil!"

"Exactly." Wang Zhonghua pushed the silver coins forward another half inch. "Old sir, is this story acceptable? No need to mention the location, no need to mention today, just say it's 'a cautionary tale of the past,' let the listeners judge for themselves whether such ungrateful, heartless people truly exist in this world!"

"Tell me! Why wouldn't I!" The old storyteller pocketed the money, a long-lost light gleaming in his cloudy eyes. "Though I am old, I haven't lost my integrity! Such a fine subject, with a little polishing, will become an excellent 'warning tale'! Rest assured, young master, within three days, the story of 'Chen Shimei killing his wife and children' will be known throughout the western part of Bianjing!"

A media storm swept through Beijing like a sudden downpour, and Wang Zhonghua was the butterfly that flapped its wings.