Chapter 127: Ji Duoduo Gets Caught Slacking, A New Arrival in the Dungeon

"Right and wrong are not easily judged, and one laughs at those who dwell within a dream."

Ji Duoduo spoke with righteous indignation, but Yi Rushi looked on in shock, while Song Mo could not help but burst into laughter.

"Forgive me, I have undergone professional training; I generally do not laugh, unless I simply cannot help it. Hahaha." It was rare for Song Mo to encounter two such amusing characters here, and the gloomy mood that had clouded his recent days was largely swept away.

Ji Duoduo said awkwardly, "Stop laughing! I'm miserable here!"

Song Mo finally stifled his laughter and asked, "What exactly happened that night?"

Ji Duoduo pulled a long face and said, "That bastard surnamed Li is nothing but a beast, a wolf in human clothing. He set me up."

Yi Rushi asked, "What happened? Did that old scoundrel pocket your reward money?"

Ji Duoduo glared at Yi Rushi indignantly before saying bitterly, "Don't even mention it. That bastard Li Buxi brought his two subordinates over with food and wine. I really thought that since they had solved the case and achieved merit, they hadn't forgotten to share some benefits with me."

"And then?" Yi Rushi urged him on.

"Then we started drinking at the Water Bureau office. Uncle Qian joined the table that night too."

"You probably know our Water Bureau office; we haven't had a decent drink in years. Li Buxi kept encouraging me to drink, and before long, Uncle Qian couldn't handle his liquor and went back to rest. I was already feeling dizzy, and I inadvertently caught a glimpse of Li Buxi’s expression. It was as cold and sinister as a venomous snake poised to strike, but he hid it so well that I thought I had seen wrong."

"Could it be that Li Buxi didn't come to drink with you at all?" Yi Rushi realized belatedly.

Ji Duoduo cursed, "That son of a bitch didn't come to drink with me; he came to 'fish'."

Upon hearing the term "fishing," Song Mo couldn't help but chuckle to himself, thinking it rare that the Great Zhou also had a slang term for "slacking off." However, it was clear that the "fishing" Ji Duoduo spoke of was something entirely different.

Yi Rushi asked in disbelief, "Impossible, right? Is there really still someone bold enough to play that 'fishing' game?"

Ji Duoduo said with a mournful face, "Who says there isn't? I just ran into it myself."

"Brother Ji, do not panic. Tell me the story exactly as it happened. Once I am reinstated in my official position, I will surely clear your name," Yi Rushi said, patting his chest with righteous fervor.

Ji Duoduo sighed and said, "I’m afraid it won't be clearing my name, but rather a midsummer snowstorm of injustice." Despite saying this, Ji Duoduo recounted the events exactly as they had occurred.

First, seeing that Song Mo did not know what "fishing" meant, Ji Duoduo explained it in detail. It turned out that because technical methods were limited at the time, many cases could not be solved clearly. Yet, in order to boast of honest governance, the imperial court often demanded that cases be solved. But cases were not like planting vegetables; they did not yield a harvest just because you sowed seeds and applied fertilizer. Officials pressured their subordinates, and ultimately, the burden of solving cases fell entirely upon the laborers. Over time, when a case could not be solved, they would resort to "fishing."

They would write the names of a group of prisoners on death row on slips of paper, fold them into balls, and then draw lots. Whoever was drawn would have the case pinned on them. In truth, this was actually a "good" thing; those who had committed heinous crimes were already death row inmates waiting for their execution after autumn. By taking the fall for this major case, they could meet their end a bit sooner, and eighteen years later, they would be a fine man again. If the lot fell to you and you readily accepted the case, the officials would naturally appreciate your cooperation, and you would be treated to good food and drink until your execution. But if you didn't cooperate—well, sorry, I heard the Ministry of Justice just acquired a new batch of "massage chairs," and I was wondering if you’d like to experience them. After a round of that "SPA," even the toughest man would confess to the crime. Once the confession was signed and thumb-printed, the execution would follow in three days. It satisfied the court's vanity and filled the officials' pockets. Everyone was happy—or so they claimed. This was what they called "fishing."

After explaining, Ji Duoduo sighed, "I used to laugh when I heard about 'fishing,' but when it actually happened to me, the feeling of injustice was truly unbearable."

As it turned out, that night, Li Buxi had come to the Water Bureau with food and wine. After three rounds of drinks, Uncle Qian had left, and then there was that look in Li Buxi’s eyes. Ji Duoduo only realized what that look meant later, but it was obviously too late. Li Buxi had constantly flattered him. Ji Duoduo had never seen such a scene before—a captain of the Six Doors office pouring him drinks personally—a treatment he had never enjoyed in his life. He drank cup after cup, and before long, his tongue was thick.

Seeing the time was ripe, Li Buxi said, "Brother Ji, we have identified the floating corpse you provided. You were right; that man was indeed a middleman in the West Market of Jian'an named Qi Dong. A few days ago, he got into a dispute with someone over a job in the West Market and was accidentally beaten to death and thrown into the moat. You, Brother Ji, deserve the primary credit for this case."

When Ji Duoduo heard this, he was overjoyed, thinking that this would finally bring honor to the Water Bureau. In his excitement, he drank a few more cups. By now, his head was spinning and his vision was blurred.

Li Buxi struck while the iron was hot, producing a document and saying, "Brother Ji, I feel we are kindred spirits. I truly cannot bear to pocket this merit from you."

Ji Duoduo was so moved he almost shed tears. He raised his cup and drained it, saying, "Brother Li, say no more; it's all in the wine."

Li Buxi nodded and changed the subject, "How about this? I have a testimony here. As long as you sign it and act as a witness, there will be plenty of reward money for you." As he spoke, Li Buxi opened the document and thoughtfully prepared a brush and vermilion ink pad.

Seeing Li Buxi was so forthright, Ji Duoduo didn't hesitate; he picked up the document, didn't even read it, and signed his name, pressing his red thumbprint upon it.

Suddenly, Li Buxi revealed a strange smile, took the document, and immediately changed his face, shouting to his subordinates, "Seize this criminal!"

Before Ji Duoduo could react, Li Buxi’s two subordinates pinned him to the table. Ji Duoduo scrambled to ask if there was a misunderstanding, but Li Buxi sneered, "You signed and thumb-printed it yourself; could it be fake?"

Li Buxi shook out the document Ji Duoduo had just signed. Ji Duoduo opened his drunken eyes and looked; he was instantly sobered by fear. The document clearly stated in black and white that the middleman Qi Dong had gotten into a dispute and was beaten to death by someone and thrown into the moat—this was exactly as Li Buxi had described, but the person who beat Qi Dong to death had become Ji Duoduo himself.

Ji Duoduo had no way to defend himself. He was immediately shackled and dragged off to prison, waiting only for the execution after autumn.

Ji Duoduo, a man who never learned his lesson, smacked his lips after finishing the story and said, "What a pity about that jar of good wine—there was still some left, and I only ate half the roasted chicken."

Yi Rushi shook his head and said, "Actually, you probably weren't Li Buxi's first choice; Uncle Qian was."

Ji Duoduo nodded and said, "Who says not? But this is fine. He was the one who picked me up, so consider it as paying him back for my life."

Just as they were speaking, the jailer opened the cell door and threw another person inside. Song Mo looked up and couldn't help but smile; he knew this person—it was the conjurer, Gao Ming.