Chapter 13: Should a Vile Servant Who Insults His Master Die?

Dusk was falling. Spots of blood marked Wei Nisheng’s face as he stood in the courtyard, a dripping sword in his hand and a frighteningly calm expression.

Opposite him, Wei Mingde, Lady Cui and Wei Shouzheng dared neither advance nor retreat. Mingde’s official robe was rumpled, cold sweat covered his forehead, and he spread his arms across the path without daring to come within three paces of Nisheng. Lady Cui trembled, clutching Mingde’s sleeve. Shouzheng, one cheek still red and his legs weak, hid behind her, too frightened even to look out.

More than a dozen servants watched from a distance. None dared approach.

Nisheng said nothing. For ten years, he had lowered his head when his father came, stepped aside for his elder brother and bowed to his stepmother. Tonight he stood before them with a sword. All it had taken was a blade and one life.

Hurried footsteps sounded in the distance. Wei An came stumbling from the direction of the side courtyard. Reaching the main hall, he pushed through the watching servants and rushed into the yard. The first thing he saw was Wang Rong’s body at the hall entrance, lying in a pool of blood. He froze, but only for an instant.

The three members of the Wei family huddled together. At the sight of Wei An, they called to him as though he were their salvation.

“Wei An! Quick! Persuade that wret—no, persuade Nisheng! Otherwise the Wei family really will be ruined!”

Wei An gritted his teeth. The second young master had finally been driven too far.

He had been Wei Zheng’s trusted attendant for decades, following him from provincial posts to the Grand Secretariat. He had seen every kind of storm. He knew this was no time to “persuade” the boy. What did Nisheng need now? Not sympathy or comfort, but a defensible cause.

There had to be a reason for killing a man, and rules even for killing a slave. Under Great Zhou law, a servant who insulted his master was liable to be beaten with the rod. Under Wei family rules, a household slave bound for life who defied his superiors could be beaten to death without consequence. If Nisheng could establish that rites and rules were on his side, Wang Rong’s death would go unpunished and the family would have no answer.

Wei An drew a deep breath, strode to Nisheng’s side and faced Mingde. “Master! Allow this old servant to ask you something!”

His booming voice startled Mingde into looking at him.

“Should a vile servant who publicly insults a legitimate son die? A household slave bound for life who defies his master—under Great Zhou law and the Wei family rules, should he die? Hasn’t the second young master set our household in order and upheld its rules by ridding us of such a man?”

Three questions, each sharp as a blade.

Mingde’s head reeled. But he had spent years in official circles, and in an instant he understood. Wei An was giving Nisheng a way to end the confrontation with dignity—and giving the Wei family one too. If he admitted Wang Rong deserved death, Nisheng had done no wrong by killing him. The servant had insulted his master first; Nisheng had killed him afterward. In feeling, principle and law, the act could be defended.

As for Wang Rong, he was only a servant. Dead was dead. Mingde feared only that Nisheng would carry the sword to the ancestral hall. That would be a catastrophe. The Wei family’s century-old reputation could not be ruined in his hands.

He answered almost without hesitation. “Yes! Yes! Wang Rong deserved to die! He publicly insulted his master. He had it coming!”

He took a cautious step forward, his voice ingratiating. “Nisheng, you did the right thing! You upheld our family principles and rid the household of a menace! Father… Father was confused for a moment and believed that slave’s lies!”

Lady Cui nodded quickly, her voice shaking. “Yes, yes! Wang Rong deserved it! Nisheng, don’t do anything rash…”

Shouzheng stammered, “I was wrong… I shouldn’t have believed that wicked servant…”

Wei An seized the moment and turned to Nisheng, speaking gently. “Second Young Master, did you hear? You upheld the family rules and put the household in order. He was a slave bound for life. You killed him, and no one can blame you.”

He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “Second Young Master, that’s enough. You’ve won.”

Nisheng looked at Wei An, then at the three frightened people: his father trying to appease him, his stepmother forcing a smile, his brother cringing. He kept hold of the sword.

“You’re right, Uncle Wei. You gave me a way to end this with dignity straight away. But do they mean what they’re saying? When they wake up tomorrow, will they go back on it? Will they turn the blame on me? Will they invent another version, saying the second young master attacked people with a sword and forced his father to admit fault?”

“Second Young Master, you…” Wei An was visibly unsettled. He hadn’t expected Nisheng to have thought that far.

“It isn’t enough. I don’t want them merely agreeing with me. I want them to admit it—openly, in front of everyone, so they can’t take it back.”

Nisheng looked straight at Mingde, his voice level. “Father, you just said Wang Rong deserved death and that I did right?”

“Yes, yes!”

“Then when you told me to kill myself in the hall and said you no longer had me as a son, whose lies were you believing?”

Mingde caught his breath. Nisheng turned to Shouzheng.

“Elder Brother, when you sent Wang Rong to slap me and spit on me three times, whose lies had you heard?”

Shouzheng flushed, his lips trembling. Nisheng looked at Lady Cui.

“Mother, when you said I was young and might not have meant what I said, whose side were you taking?

“Now I want you to explain yourselves clearly in front of everyone. Who lied about what happened with Wang Rong? Who urged Father to force me to kill myself? Until you say it plainly, I won’t put down this sword. I can go to the ancestral hall whenever I please.”

The evening wind carried the smell of blood. The servants in the distance held their breath.

Mingde’s face was ugly. Admit his mistake in public? In front of all these servants, admit that he had been foolish, believed lies and forced his son toward death? How could he retain any dignity?

But he looked at Nisheng’s sword and the blood drying on it, and remembered Wang Rong’s body. If the boy really had gone mad and rushed to the ancestral hall, his dignity, the family’s honorable name and his reputation as an official would all be finished.

He clenched his teeth and finally spoke. “It… it was your father’s fault. I shouldn’t have believed that wicked servant Wang Rong’s side of the story. I shouldn’t have… shouldn’t have forced you.

“You did nothing wrong. Wang Rong deserved to die!”

He glared at Shouzheng, the cause of it all, and kicked him. “This started because of you! Have you nothing to say? You fool!”

Shouzheng dropped to his knees. “It was all my fault! I shouldn’t have believed Wang Rong or sent him to hit you. I’m sorry!”

He slapped himself across the face. The crack rang out.

Lady Cui knew she couldn’t escape an apology either. “Nisheng, Mother was confused too… I thought everything Wang Rong said was true. I was afraid you’d cause trouble, so… so I said those things. I didn’t mean to hurt you…”

Nisheng watched them. His father admitted fault in public because he feared the family would be disgraced. His elder brother knelt and slapped himself because he feared for his prospects. His stepmother apologized in tears because she was simply afraid.

But Nisheng had obtained the public admission he wanted. From now on, with servants who were not bound for life present as witnesses, with the night itself as witness and Wang Rong’s body as witness, could those three overturn the story and blame him? No chance.

He lowered his eyes to the sword in his hand and threw it down with a clang.

Ten years. Ten years of obedience, ten years of endurance, ten years living with his head lowered. Tonight, at last, he stood straight.

A gentleman had reached the strength of youth; he could not be humiliated.

……