Chapter 33: The Scapegoat Princess Is Sentenced to Death (33)

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While they were working themselves into a frenzy, practically turning the entire Prince of Lu’s residence upside down in their search for clues and evidence, Ding Shui’s soul had already recovered from the strain it had suffered earlier.

The sky was gradually darkening. Although the sun had not yet fully set, the remaining light was no longer strong enough to matter, so Ding Shui naturally took flight and went to inspect the other princely residences throughout the country—to see the differences across the world.

To see how one prince differed from another!

Of course, it was impossible for her to remain in any given princely residence and observe it carefully for ten days, half a month, or even a year or more. To save time—and because she could not be bothered with all that trouble—Ding Shui mainly chose to examine the memories of the chief stewards and trusted confidants of various princes.

They were not newcomers like Dong Huaide.

They understood their masters’ circumstances thoroughly.

And indeed, what she found was quite fascinating. There were infuriating parts, but there were good parts as well. The lives of imperial kinsmen were certainly more colorful than those of ordinary commoners.

In just three short days, excluding the few hours around noon when the sun was at its strongest, Ding Shui successfully toured every princely residence in the country. She reached one conclusion:

The difference between one person and another, and between one prince and another, was truly greater than the difference between a person and a pig.

Although some of the princes in various regions were barely human themselves, Prince Lu was still the worst of the lot.

There were quite a few princes of decent character. Since they had all been born to the same father, one had to wonder whether the difference lay in their mothers.

Among those who were thoroughly vile were the Princes of Jin, Han, and Qi.

The Prince of Jin guarded the northwestern frontier and was usually violent-tempered. He often beat and cursed his subordinates and servants, and more than one person had been flogged to death by him. He had also committed no shortage of crimes such as abducting women from respectable families and favoring concubines over his wife. On top of that, he was pathologically bloodthirsty.

He particularly enjoyed killing people for amusement.

Fortunately, there were frequent wars along the frontier, giving him opportunities to go out and slaughter the barbarians. Most of those who died beneath his blade were foreign enemies, so the local populace could just barely tolerate him.

They treated it as though they had raised a guardian deity who required blood sacrifices.

At least he truly did protect the frontier, preventing the barbarians from entering the realm. Had they invaded, even more people would have died.

The Prince of Han guarded the southwestern border. He had always enjoyed raising small animals, and after taking up residence in his fief, he acquired a number of secret techniques for cultivating venomous creatures by exterminating rebellious native clans in the region. He became obsessed with the practice.

In earlier years, he had been somewhat less extreme. At most, he would capture wild beasts to raise his venomous insects, or occasionally seize prisoners of war for the same purpose.

A few years ago, however, he decided that human beings were the essence of Heaven and Earth, and that humans were the most effective material for refining venomous creatures. If he had enough people, he could even attempt to create venomous humans and similar abominations.

But the local chieftains and native tribes had been frightened into submission. They no longer dared to rebel casually, and some simply hid far away. In recent years, therefore, he had begun provoking them deliberately, attacking the local chieftains and native tribes. The number of people who had died at his hands—or had been killed in his experiments—was no fewer than ten thousand.

It was only because all the dead belonged to native tribes, and had never been entered into the household registers, that they were considered savages or unregistered vagrants.

The local officials simply turned a blind eye.

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They acted as though they had seen nothing.

Recently, however, he seemed to have grown even more deranged. He had repeatedly failed to create the legendary venomous humans, and the creatures he did manage to produce were not very intelligent. Since they had fallen far short of his expectations, he decided that the local natives were simply too unintelligent. To refine venomous creatures successfully, he needed clever people—preferably scholars.

Otherwise, it would be difficult to achieve any further breakthrough.

Thus, he had already begun targeting the local gentry.

There were not many scholars in that region to begin with, and even fewer who possessed academic degrees. Yet over the past six months, more than a dozen successful examination candidates and over thirty licentiates had vanished. Because the Prince of Han acted so discreetly, no outsider had discovered the truth.

At least, no one knew that he was responsible.

Everyone assumed that the native tribes were taking revenge, and they were even discussing whether they ought to ask the Prince of Han to lead a campaign against them.

The Prince of Qi’s fief was not far from Prince Lu’s. It contained two salt lakes, so he was by no means short of money. He was especially fond of rare treasures from the sea, such as pearls and coral, and he forcefully required every official and eminent family within his fief to offer them as tribute. He even organized people, purchased sea vessels, and sent them out to search for mermaids and other rarities.

Apart from that, he had done little that could be called outright evil.

One could say that scarcely anyone had died directly at his hands. Indirectly, however, the number of deaths attributable to him was enormous.

The officials and prominent families compelled to provide tribute could hardly dive into the sea themselves to collect pearls, coral, and other marine treasures. Naturally, they began forcing their tenant farmers and fishermen to do it instead.

Those who refused had their leased fields reclaimed.

There were countless ways to deal with them, and the authorities did not even need to spend much money—nor were they willing to spend any.

As a result, in recent years the mortality rate among local pearl-diving women had risen more than fivefold, while the mortality rate among able-bodied fishermen had risen by over three times. Many fishing families, having lost their main providers, were forced to sell themselves into servitude. Others simply hanged themselves as a family, ending everything at once.

That was only one aspect of the matter. On the other hand, the Prince of Qi had forcibly declared all the surrounding waters his private territory. Nearby fishermen were no longer permitted to go out to sea, even if they were willing to pay fishing taxes. No one was allowed to fish.

For fishermen whose entire livelihood depended on the sea, this was no different from killing them outright.

The local officials were dissatisfied, but they had no way to impeach him. If the Prince of Qi had seized the people’s farmland, they could have condemned him as a matter of course. But there was no precedent for seizing the sea, and the fishermen belonged to the lowest social register in any case.

Under the laws of the current dynasty, official courtesans in government entertainment quarters, local hereditary entertainers, degraded descendants of criminals from the previous dynasty, beggars, fishermen without land, hereditary household servants, and bonded retainers were all classified as lowborn.

They ranked even below the tenant farmers and self-cultivating farmers of wealthy households.

No one was willing to offend the Prince of Qi for the sake of a few lowborn people.

Thus, although the Prince of Qi had not killed anyone directly, a considerable number of people had died indirectly because of him, leaving families ruined and lives shattered.

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Indeed, he might have caused more such deaths than any of the other princes.

Those were the three princes who were comparatively vile. The remaining princes were, for the most part, decent. Some could even be considered outstanding.

By “decent,” one mainly meant that they did not recklessly torment others and had no hobbies that endangered human life. Some favored men, some favored women, and some favored married women, but they were generally restrained and rarely took lives. Most problems were settled with money, or with a combination of money and influence.

The more outstanding among them were the Princes of Zhou, Ping, and Ji.

The Prince of Zhou was fond of medicine. Whenever he had nothing else to do, he discussed the subject with renowned local physicians. Sometimes he would even disguise himself under a different name and practice medicine in an ordinary clinic. He had already corrected several ancient medical texts and had written a work entitled A Record of Herbal Relief.

It catalogued several hundred poisonous and nonpoisonous wild greens.

The book contained illustrations and written descriptions, along with instructions on how to process poisonous plants so that they became harmless or only mildly toxic.

The Prince of Ping loved music and fine food. He had not only recreated several long-lost ancient instruments and musical pieces, but had also attempted to organize the principles of music from antiquity to the present. No finished results had yet emerged, but in Ding Shui’s eyes, he had already laid the foundations of equal temperament. If he persevered, he would surely achieve something.

His culinary accomplishments were no less impressive.

He had worked out several new cookbooks.

His only fault was that he was somewhat overweight, nearing two hundred pounds.

As for the Prince of Ji, he was a hereditary prince stationed along the northern frontier. How was one to describe him? He was simply normal—extremely normal. He diligently fulfilled his duties as a frontier prince, handling every aspect of civil and military affairs with excellence. He loved his wife and children. Though he had two concubines, both behaved properly, and no one dared cause trouble. He treated his subordinates well, was both fair and authoritative, and loved the people as if they were his own children.

At least for now, Ding Shui had found no shortcomings or problems in him. Overall, he was an excellent man.

It was only that she had seen too many abnormal hereditary princes.

Encountering someone so normal had taken her by surprise.

Perhaps “normal” was not quite the right word. He could even be called a model hereditary prince. If all the princes throughout the realm were like him, why should anyone worry that the country would become unstable, or that the people would fail to live in peace and prosperity?

This showed just how vast the differences were between people—and between princes.

The upper limit was remarkably high, while the lower limit was extraordinarily low.

Because she had not made sufficient preparations in advance, and because the deaths of certain frontier princes could have enormous consequences, Ding Shui had spent these three days merely investigating. She had not yet taken action to punish anyone.

Besides, she wanted to wait and see.

She wanted to see how Emperor Tianwu would deal with the matter of Prince Lu.

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