WNST - 140

Chapter 140: The Drum of Petition

Nan Yi believed that despite the widespread condemnation, many people still knew of Xie Queshan’s injustice. Surely, these people would be willing to speak up on his behalf. 

But first, the Xie family had chosen silence. The deeply ingrained notions of loyalty to the emperor and adherence to hierarchy had rooted themselves in the bones of noble families. Considering the precarious position of the new dynasty and the emperor, Xie Jun felt they couldn’t afford another upheaval. Any instability in the court could easily shatter the fragile peace painstakingly achieved with the Qi forces. 

What about the Yucheng army, then? Surely, they could testify on Xie Queshan’s behalf. But Nan Yi was quickly reminded of one crucial fact—it was an army. If Ying Huai led the soldiers into the capital to protest on behalf of a condemned traitor, what would that look like? A coup or rebellion? 

Nan Yi’s judgment of many things had always been starkly simple—black or white, good or bad. But when the intricate web of political complexities was laid bare before her, she was shaken. She felt suffocated, yet she couldn’t blame anyone. 

Every day, the situation worsened. The entrance to Wangxue Manor was besieged by angry citizens hurling insults, demanding the Xie family sever all ties with the traitor. The once-majestic gate was pelted with rotten eggs, decaying leaves, and lime paste, left in utter disarray. Even though he was already dead, these “righteous” people refused to relent. 

Nan Yi tried to reason with them, but soon realized they weren’t seeking answers—they were venting their emotions. No matter what she said, her words were twisted, and some even hurled vile slurs at her, calling her Xie Queshan’s concubine and attempting to shame her into submission. She finally understood the weight of public opinion and why someone as strong as Xie Queshan had remained silent throughout. To prove one’s innocence was like trying to scoop the moon from the bottom of the sea—not only futile but also self-damaging. 

But should she simply give in? 

No. 

Nan Yi stubbornly resolved to go to Jinling. She was determined to file this petition, no matter what. She wouldn’t accept defeat unless she died trying. 

After everyone had tried and failed to dissuade her, Xie Jun finally waved his hand in resignation. “Let her go.” 

The matter was settled. There was nothing the Xie family could do. As for her—a lone woman heading to an unfamiliar city—what could she possibly achieve? Xie Jun assumed she was simply unable to accept the death of his third son and was acting out in grief. 

He pitied her but felt powerless. Perhaps only after venting her emotions could she move forward. Let her make a scene; once she hit a wall, she’d come back. 

But Xie Jun underestimated Nan Yi’s resolve. She had no intention of turning back. Even if she stood alone with only the smallest bit of power, she still believed that human effort could move mountains and that justice would prevail. 

One day… one day, she would restore his honor! For that day, she would face any obstacle, no matter how insurmountable. 

Nan Yi set off alone on horseback. 

As she reached the city gates, she suddenly heard someone calling her from behind. The sound of galloping hooves approached, and Nan Yi, thinking it was someone from the Xie family coming to stop her, spurred her horse forward anxiously. 

Lady Gantang finally caught up to her and forced her horse to a halt. 

Nan Yi’s heart raced as she eyed Lady Gantang warily. But the latter quickly dismounted, hurriedly handing her a small bundle and gripping Nan Yi’s hands with tearful eyes. 

Nan Yi was taken aback. Clearly, her sister hadn’t come to persuade her to return. 

“Nan Yi, I’m sorry. We can’t do anything ourselves, yet you’re running around tirelessly for our third brother. Please understand—Father has his reasons. Since ancient times, we’ve been bound by the chains of loyalty to the throne and hierarchy. We can’t break free…,” Lady Gantang choked up slightly. “But now that you’re going to Jinling to seek justice for him, it’ll be easier if you have an identity to act under. Though you two never married, I believe you both already regarded each other as lifelong partners. Inside this bundle is an official document. If you’re willing, from now on, you will be his wife.” 

Tears streamed down Nan Yi’s face. She hadn’t dared to admit it, but when she set out, she had no idea what to do or where to start. Her panic had made her hypersensitive, and every sound of pursuit made her instinctively want to flee. Yet here was her second sister, not stopping her but instead giving her a lifeline. 

“Second Sister, I’ll keep it short. Regarding whether or not our third brother committed treason, the underlying political maneuvering is far more complex. When Bianjing fell last year, there were heroes across the land who rose up in rebellion. However, the old ministers and aristocrats of Jiangnan still supported the imperial family’s relocation to Jinling—for two reasons. First, the century-old legitimacy of the royal family. Second, they wanted to maximize Jiangnan’s interests. Jiangnan is prosperous and peaceful—they didn’t want war. Frankly, they never intended to support Lidu Prefecture. The current situation is the result of our third brother sacrificing himself to leave his opponents without argument, allowing the emperor to overcome opposition and send reinforcements. But if the emperor keeps making mistakes, will the ministers continue to support him? When you reach Jinling, remember one thing—you’re not challenging the emperor’s decree, which would be impossible. Instead, accuse the ministers—someone’s negligence caused this injustice. Only then might there be a chance for change.” 

“Second Sister, I understand.” Nan Yi nodded vigorously, her gratitude toward Lady Gantang overwhelming. 

Her sister’s arrival gave Nan Yi sudden confidence. Before this, she had been deeply disappointed in the Xie family. Now, she realized they weren’t unwilling to speak for Xie Queshan—they simply lacked the standing, fearing any misstep. 

Only someone like her, adrift like duckweed, had the reckless courage and possibility to take this risk. 

“Take care, and return safely.” 

---

The news of the great victory reached Jinling, and the emperor ordered three days of festivities. The capital buzzed with ceaseless celebrations day and night. Colorful lanterns adorned towering displays shaped like mythical turtles, drums thundered, and music filled the air. Regardless of the undercurrents in the court, the common people’s joys and sorrows were simple. This victory gave them hope for peace and prosperity. 

Until the long-silent Drum of Petition sounded. Its deep, resonant beats echoed through the ninefold palace walls. 

To demonstrate openness to grievances or advice, the emperor had placed a drum outside the court, allowing subjects to beat it and bring their petitions directly to the throne. This was called the “Drum of Petition.” 

Whoever struck the Drum of Petition would be heard personally by the emperor. 

This was the first time such a thing had happened in the new dynasty. Curious townsfolk spread the word—rumors claimed the one who had beaten the drum to plead for justice was a woman.

Some curious onlookers asked, “Who is she?” 

Nan Yi knelt in the grand hall, facing the emperor, and declared firmly, “I am the wife of the condemned traitor, Xie Queshan.” 

“What is your grievance?” 

“My husband, Queshan, did not commit treason!” 

Her resolute words shocked everyone present. One of the ministers accompanying the emperor scolded her harshly: “How dare you, a brazen woman, spout such nonsense before His Majesty!” 

Xu Zhou gazed at Nan Yi and calmly said, “Go on.” 

He had been waiting for someone like her to appear—someone with the audacity to challenge the verdict. If Sixth Sister were still alive, she would have been the one to do it. But fortunately, Xie Queshan had left behind a widow with enough courage to fight for him. 

“… In the 22nd year of Yongkang, he infiltrated Daqi under a false identity, providing crucial intelligence to Bingzhu Division multiple times. On the 24th day of the fourth month this year, he helped complete Operation Phoenix Rebirth, destroying the Dragon Bone ship and drowning over ten thousand Qi soldiers in the river. This exposed his identity to the Qi forces, after which he remained in the army, dedicating himself to defending Lidu Prefecture until he was falsely accused and disgraced. For the sake of the greater good, he accepted humiliation and confessed to crimes he did not commit. To die under such circumstances is unjust! I implore Your Majesty to investigate thoroughly, expose the treacherous conspirators, and cleanse the court of corruption!” 

Nan Yi gripped her sleeve tightly, her palms drenched in sweat. Every word she spoke had been carefully weighed and measured, fearing that even the slightest misstep could derail her entire plea. 

“The claims you make contradict the facts known to the court. Do you have any evidence?” Xu Zhou asked patiently. 

“I have no concrete evidence, but there are many who know of his deeds. If Your Majesty would only agree to reopen the case, we could gather witnesses from all sides!” 

Clearly, this response failed to satisfy the three high-ranking officials presiding over the hearing. They whispered among themselves, shaking their heads repeatedly. 

Xu Zhou continued to wait. He couldn’t immediately express enthusiasm for reopening the case. If he did, it would spark endless debates among the ministers—not about the case itself, but about whether it was necessary to reconsider the ruling. This would inevitably lead to discussions about his governance and the balance of power within the court. Every decision made by the emperor triggered a chain reaction, and nothing could be done impulsively. Thus, he needed a decisive moment—one strong enough to silence all objections and compel agreement. 

But Nan Yi couldn’t possibly know what Xu Zhou was thinking. She watched helplessly as silence reigned in the hall. Though her body remained kneeling, her spirit felt as though it were plummeting into an abyss. 

She had crossed paths with this monarch several times in the past, though she had never seen him face-to-face. By the time she finally met him, the young ruler already carried an air of maturity and authority, naturally distant and unapproachable. She had no confidence that he would risk his reputation or reign to vindicate Xie Queshan based solely on her words. 

And why should he? Even she herself doubted the weight of her plea—it felt like throwing an egg against a stone, utterly futile. 

Just then, a palace guard rushed into the hall. 

“Your Majesty! Outside the city…” 

“What has happened?” 

“Hundreds of Yucheng soldiers have removed their armor and weapons, dressed in white robes, and are kneeling outside Zhuque Gate. They dare not enter the city to avoid suspicion, but they have come to protest on behalf of… the condemned traitor, Xie Queshan!” 

Nan Yi raised her head in astonishment. After understanding the intricacies of court politics, she knew how risky it was for an entire army to so openly advocate for a supposed traitor. If they could organize such a protest today, might they stage a rebellion tomorrow? Should they anger the emperor, no matter how much merit they had earned in the past, it could become their death sentence. Yet, the Yucheng soldiers had come anyway. While she was inside the city, they were outside, standing as her steadfast support. 

A surge of determination filled her body. She had hit rock bottom in the abyss, yet the anticipated destruction hadn’t arrived. Many hands were lifting her up, supporting her, supporting them. 

Justice resided in the hearts of the people; she wasn’t fighting alone. And his noble sacrifices had not vanished without a trace. 

Even so, the emperor still refused to immediately reopen the case, stating that the matter required careful consideration before a decision could be made. 

The act of the Yucheng soldiers kneeling outside the gate caused an uproar among the common folk. News of the event spread rapidly. Whether people believed it or not was beside the point—curiosity was guaranteed. Everyone wanted to weigh in, and soon, more and more voices called for the case to be reopened and the truth uncovered. 

Nan Yi anxiously waited at the inn, unsure what the emperor was hesitating about and what more she could do. The next day, a servant from the household of Hu Ruhai, a vice minister of the Ministry of War, arrived, saying it concerned Xie Queshan’s case and inviting her to discuss it at his residence. 

Nan Yi didn’t know who this person was, but she had heard he was an old minister stationed in Jiangnan and one of the loudest voices opposing military intervention. She felt uneasy but reasoned that, given the public scrutiny surrounding her now, he wouldn’t dare silence her. Moreover, she couldn’t afford to miss any opportunity, so she steeled herself and went. 

To her surprise, Minister Hu didn’t look as cunning as she had imagined. Instead, he appeared to be a burly, straightforward warrior, his voice booming like a bell, his temperament somewhat impatient. After sizing her up, he seemed skeptical but didn’t take her too seriously, cutting straight to the chase. 

“Besides the Yucheng soldiers, does anyone else corroborate your claims?” 

Nan Yi hesitated, wondering if this was a trap to extract information and cover up the truth. But then she realized that the individuals she would name were untouchable by someone like Hu Ruhai. 

“Princess Lingfu,” Nan Yi met his gaze unwaveringly. “Xie Queshan’s codename in Bingzhu Division was ‘Wild Goose.’ I can tell you the method used for his rendezvous points. You need only ask Princess Lingfu whether, during the time Xie Queshan was recuperating at Wanyan Jun’s residence, she acted as his intermediary. If the rendezvous method matches what I’ve described, it will prove that Xie Queshan worked for Bingzhu Division.” 

Hu Ruhai hadn’t expected this young woman to think so clearly. 

Suddenly, he sensed a sharp, piercing determination emanating from her. Where she stood was justice; what she said was truth. She was fearless, forthright, and unyielding. Any lies or darkness that approached her would shatter. 

Even before verifying her claims, Hu Ruhai already had a gut feeling.

——He had been wrong. 

And Princess Lingfu’s response confirmed that the woman was right. 

Hu Ruhai collapsed into his seat, his face ashen, paying no heed to Nan Yi still waiting in the hall for the outcome. His mind was a chaotic mess; everything he had believed in and built up was beginning to crumble completely. 

Not long ago, he had learned that Xie Zhu had defected to Daqi, but the emperor had suppressed the news, forbidding it from being publicized. The reason was simple: if the Xie family were implicated in yet another act of treason at such a critical juncture, the entire clan would be doomed. The emperor had deliberately favored the Xie family. 

Hu Ruhai had never imagined that Xie Zhu, who appeared so upright and selfless, could be a traitor colluding with the enemy. But recalling Xie Zhu’s earlier attitude—his silence on matters concerning military intervention in Lidu Prefecture and his nephew—it now sent chills down Hu Ruhai’s spine. That silence, he realized, had been telling. 

But now that Xie Zhu was confirmed to be a traitor, what about Xie Queshan, who had been executed under Xie Zhu’s tacit approval? 

The seeds of doubt had already taken root, and when Hu Ruhai heard today that someone had beaten the Drum of Petition to protest Xie Queshan’s wrongful execution, his unease deepened. In haste, he summoned this woman, hoping to verify the truth about Xie Queshan and determine whether his own stance in court had been right or wrong. 

Only now did he realize that the group of deserters who had brought him information—real or fabricated—had set a trap for him. Someone had used his unwavering righteousness as a weapon to kill. At the time, he had feared the emperor was being misled, firmly believing what he saw: that Lidu Prefecture was a trap, and he couldn’t allow the army to walk blindly into disaster. Thus, he had opposed the decision more vehemently than anyone else. 

His blade had unwittingly killed a loyal and capable minister. 

Xie Queshan had indeed been one of Shen Zhizhong’s students—and like his teacher, possessed an unyielding spirit. 

Nan Yi remained silent, not interrupting Hu Ruhai’s reverie. She simply felt that this man didn’t seem evil. 

After a long while, Hu Ruhai finally raised his eyes to look at Nan Yi. “If Lord Shen were still alive, His Majesty wouldn’t have to tread so cautiously… nor would someone as shortsighted as me have swayed His Majesty’s decisions. Lady, I’m glad you’ve come.” 

Nan Yi seized a glimmer of hope: “Then, Lord Hu, are you willing to assist me in this case?” 

After much deliberation, Hu Ruhai replied: “His Majesty refuses to reopen the case because the timing isn’t right. He wants to use public sentiment to pressure the court into submission, leaving the ministers with no room to argue. His Majesty is waiting for the right moment.” 

Nan Yi was momentarily stunned. Being caught in the middle of it all, she hadn’t considered this layer of strategy. 

So even Lord Hu was powerless? 

When she left that day, Nan Yi felt disheartened. Though she had managed to sway Hu Ruhai, they both knew it wasn’t enough to convince the entire world. The most challenging aspect of this matter was that it had transcended questions of right and wrong. Many who knew the truth had been forced to close their eyes and allow injustice to prevail. The conflict between individual morality and the greater good raged on relentlessly. 

And the opportune moment the emperor awaited—when would it arrive?