Chapter 112: Confession

Boiling bones? Isn’t the soup supposed to turn white when boiled? Ding Wu couldn’t help but mutter inwardly. If nothing still turns up, and if Wang Xuelin finds out...

“Sir, Grand Tutor Wang and Madam Wang have arrived,” a guard reported as he entered.

“Bring them in,” Ji Changge said.

Ding Wu clicked his tongue in disbelief—it’s like calling Cao Cao and having him appear. This could be trouble.

As Madam Wang entered, she immediately noticed a large pot on the floor, and Wen Jing was holding a bone, about to drop it into the pot.

Wen Jing placed the bone into the pot, then picked up another.

“Feiran, how is the autopsy proceeding?” Wang Xuelin asked Ji Changge.

“Uh...” Ji Changge’s face tensed slightly, his gaze drifting toward Wen Jing.

Seeing Ji Changge’s hesitation, Wang Xuelin pressed on, “What about the coroner Zhong Sun?”

“Zhong Sun is quite elderly; he resigned from his post yesterday and bid farewell to Lord Liang,” Ji Changge replied.

Wang Xuelin was taken aback. “Then who is the current coroner?”

Ji Changge glanced at Wen Jing. Wang Xuelin and Madam Wang exchanged confused looks, as if puzzled why Ji Changge kept glancing repeatedly at Wen Jing.

“It is Miss Qi,” Wen Jing bowed slightly and then placed the last bone into the pot.

Both Wang Xuelin and Madam Wang exchanged astonished glances. In all their years, they had never heard of a young lady performing autopsies.

“Where are my son’s bones?” Madam Wang looked down at the empty cloth on the floor, remembering that Wang Zhaonian’s remains were wrapped in it.

Wen Jing pointed to the steaming pot. “To verify whether Wang Zhaonian died of poisoning, I am using the boiling bone method...”

Before she could finish, Madam Wang rushed over, trembling as she said, “You mean... the bones in this pot... are my son’s?”

“Exactly,” Wen Jing answered straightforwardly.

“My poor Zhaonian, after all these years, you still have to endure such torment by fire.” Tears fell as Madam Wang wept.

Wang Xuelin approached and looked at Wen Jing with doubt. “Miss Qi, are you sure this method will work?”

“I’m not entirely certain, but it’s worth a try,” Wen Jing replied.

Wang Xuelin’s expression darkened as he glanced at Madam Wang. If it weren’t for the guards holding them back, they might have rushed forward.

“Master, madam, please be patient. Soon, we will know the truth,” Ji Changge comforted.

Wen Jing watched the color of the water in the pot gradually shift. What was once milky white now seeped with a dark purple tint. It seemed the bones contained other substances.

“The water is changing color!” Ding Wu exclaimed excitedly.

Wang Xuelin and Madam Wang stepped forward, exchanged a glance, wondering if Wang Zhaonian was truly poisoned.

“That alone doesn’t prove Wang Zhaonian was poisoned. If it were illness, the bones might also change color,” Ji Changge said.

Disappointment spread among them, having hoped this would confirm poisoning, only to find it inconclusive.

---

“Catch two rats,” Wen Jing ordered a guard.

The guard was taken aback—why rats now? Yet he obediently went off to catch them.

“Take the pot down,” Wen Jing continued.

Two guards lifted the pot down. Wen Jing scooped some water into a bowl, placing it inside a wooden bucket. When the rats arrived, the guard put them into the bucket.

“What is this for?” Wang Xuelin asked.

Madam Wang shot Wen Jing a cold glance, waiting for the final verdict. If Wen Jing claimed no problem, she would attack immediately.

“If this water is proven poisonous, it will confirm that Wang Zhaonian was poisoned, not ill,” Wen Jing explained.

The group relaxed, understanding now the true purpose of boiling the bones. Their eyes focused on the rats, which struggled to escape.

Come on, drink it quickly! Ding Wu thought, glaring at the rats.

The rats wandered inside the bucket but couldn’t climb out due to its height. After some struggle, one rat perched on the bowl’s rim and took a sip of the water.

“It drank!” Ding Wu cheered.

Wen Jing watched as the rat struggled for a while, then lay still, foaming at the mouth.

“It’s dead!” everyone exclaimed jubilantly.

“The bones indeed contain a lethal poison,” Wen Jing said with a slight frown. It seemed Wang Zhaonian did not die of sudden illness. But who was the murderer?

Madam Wang collapsed to the ground, overwhelmed. She had always believed her son died of disease, never imagining that her beloved eldest son was poisoned and wronged for so many years.

Wang Xuelin sighed deeply, his wrinkles deepening. He had long braced himself for this outcome.

“Master, please recount the events from that year,” Ji Changge requested.

Wang Xuelin nodded thoughtfully. “Feng Yi left a letter saying she would take Erlang to her family for a while, and we believed it. Later, Erlang returned alone, distraught, saying his mother was captured by bandits. We rushed to Mount Shuangqi to rescue her, searching for days without a trace of bandits. Eventually, we gave up. Half a year later, Zhaonian’s concubine outside the mansion was pregnant. Zhaonian wanted to elevate her to secondary wife, and we agreed.”

So the concubine affair was the fuse, Wen Jing thought.

“Shortly after Cuiyun entered the household, Zhaonian’s health deteriorated and he soon died. Later, even Cuiyun’s child couldn’t be saved. Losing her child and husband, Cuiyun couldn’t bear the grief and threw herself into a well... Ah...” Wang Xuelin sighed recalling those dark days.

Large noble estates like the Wang family were never short of wronged souls. Wen Jing recalled Wang Erlang’s sisters; from their mother’s plight, it seemed the concubine was not overwhelmed by grief but forced into that fate.

“Who killed Zhaonian?” Madam Wang grabbed Ji Changge urgently.

“We can’t say for sure yet, only that it was murder,” Ji Changge replied. Wang Erlang had motive, but Wang Sinian might also be involved.

“What about Erlang? When will he return home?” Wang Xuelin asked Ji Changge.

Ji Changge fell silent, and Wang Xuelin’s eyes darkened, no longer pressing.

“I will take Zhaonian’s remains,” Madam Wang said, wrapping the bones carefully and holding them close.

After they left, Ji Changge entered the dungeon.

“Wang Erlang, we have found that your father was not ill but poisoned. Why would you kill your own father?” Ji Changge said, glaring.

Wang Erlang lay on a straw mat, eyes closed, refusing to respond.

Ding Wu, seeing Erlang’s defiant attitude, dragged him out.

“Did you poison him yourself, or did you have Wang Sinian do it?” Ji Changge stared intensely.

Wang Erlang glanced at Ji Changge, grinning. “I didn’t kill him. Whether my uncle did, I don’t know. You’ll have to ask him.”

Ji Changge’s eyes turned cold. “I will find evidence to prove you are the killer.”

Wen Jing watched Ji Changge leave in a slight fury, knowing he had gotten nothing.

“Let me try,” Wen Jing said.

Ji Changge instantly refused. “No, he’ll kill you. You forget?”

Wen Jing smiled faintly. She hadn’t forgotten. Having studied psychology, she understood psychopaths well. Ordinary questioning wouldn’t work.

“He’s locked in the dungeon. I’m outside. Nothing will happen.”

Seeing her confidence, Ji Changge pondered briefly, then said to Ding Wu, “You accompany Miss Qi and protect her. Erlang can’t fight; just keep an eye on him.”

Ding Wu was about to agree when Wen Jing interrupted, “No. He won’t speak to anyone but me. I’m enough. He can’t escape.”

Ji Changge frowned. “If you insist, then so be it. We’ll stay outside. If anything happens, shout for help. He shouldn’t be able to unlock the dungeon.”

Wen Jing nodded. “I’ll be careful.”

Ding Wu opened the dungeon door and Wen Jing entered.

Wang Erlang looked surprised to see her alone.

“Are you alright?” Wen Jing asked gently.

Wang Erlang eyed her warily, silent.

Wen Jing smiled softly. “I don’t hate you at all. I understand how you feel. You love your mother, and you love me.”

Wang Erlang lifted his head, his gaze burning as if ready to devour her, sneering, “Don’t pretend to understand me. You just want me to confess.”

Wen Jing ignored him and continued, “The deeper the love, the stronger the desire to keep her forever. But your mother planned to elope with that servant, abandoning you and your father. You feared never seeing her again, didn’t you?”

Wang Erlang’s anger flared but he said nothing.

“You even thought it would be better if she never bore you, so you wouldn’t have to suffer. That’s why you sewed her lower body shut. You did the same to He Yunxiu, Shen Ying, and Liang Shuxuan. Because you feared losing them. You loved them but couldn’t have them, couldn’t bear to see them leave and fall into others’ arms,” Wen Jing said.

“Shut up! Stop talking!” Wang Erlang snapped.

“Your father was the same. He wanted to marry another woman to replace your mother. Her child would take everything from you. You couldn’t accept that, so you killed him. You didn’t love him—you hated him.”

“Yes, I killed him. I poisoned his ink. Whenever he wrote, he’d unintentionally lick the pen tip, and the poison seeped into his body. Then, when he was with that wretched woman, she and her bastard child naturally died too,” Wang Erlang suddenly laughed. (To be continued...)