Personally leading the troops to ransack Dorgon's estate
East City.
Donghuamen Street, the Prince Rui's Mansion.
Dorgon was dead, his primary wife Borjigin was dead, and his adopted son Dorbo was also dead.
The sprawling mansion felt as though its spine had been violently ripped out of a living body—desolate, sorrowful, and suffused with a spectral chill.
"Princess, would you care for some bird's nest soup?"
"Nanny, I have no appetite. I want to go swing for a while."
"Alright."
...
A small courtyard, a grape trellis, a tiny flower bed, a goldfish bowl, a large yellow dog, and a plump maid.
An exquisite swing swayed back and forth, dragging the young girl's turbulent thoughts along with it.
Each time the swing reached its peak, Princess Dong'guo's oppressed mood eased just a fraction.
"Nanny, lately I've been thinking that fame, fortune, eternal glory with the state, and distinguished military exploits are all illusions. Only people are real. Without people, everything becomes a phantom. Just like this mansion of ours—hailed as the most prestigious in the capital, yet it is the most desolate in the entire city."
The nanny dared not answer, largely because she could not quite grasp the meaning.
...
Outside the gates of Prince Rui's Mansion, large numbers of soldiers arrived in succession.
The scene was a flurry of fluttering banners, gleaming swords and spears, and the thunderous rumble of hooves.
Jiang Qingyun had dispatched several trusted subordinates in advance to lead the "Mountain," "Forest," and "Fire" battalions to set up a perimeter defense in the surrounding streets, erecting chevaux-de-frise. No one was allowed to enter, and no one was allowed to leave.
Anyone who disobeyed orders would be executed!
Complete secrecy was impossible, but he could at least ensure that the news did not cause a massive uproar before the morning court session.
"Censor Jiang, everything is ready."
"Break down the doors!"
"Understood!"
The bailiffs from Daxing and Wanping stared in jaw-dropping shock as the Manchu soldiers of the Bordered Yellow Banner from the Patrol Division swarmed forward, wielding heavy sledgehammers and violently smashing against the mansion gates.
Utterly badass.
Wu Jingyin, the magistrate of Daxing County, and Shang Zhou, the magistrate of Wanping County, acted like obedient little followers. Wherever Jiang Qingyun walked, they followed.
Jiang Qingyun's father, Jiang Zhongcheng, walked with unsteady steps and a bitter taste in his mouth, simply because the arrogant young man leading the troops to smash open the Prince Regent's gates happened to be his own son.
All around him, superiors and colleagues cowered in subservience.
"Brother Old Jiang, the Left Assistant Censor-in-Chief has given the order. The troops of this battalion will immediately enter the mansion to secure all personnel. What do your instructions say?" Commander Shengyong walked over and asked.
"Commander, please proceed."
"Understood."
"Brothers, move in! Gather everyone into the courtyard!"
...
Boom!
The vermilion gates, embedded with eighty-one copper studs, crashed down with a deafening roar as a plume of dust billowed into the air.
Jiang Qingyun could easily have ordered someone to knock politely.
Instead, he deliberately commanded his troops to smash the gates down. Naturally, he had his reasons for doing so.
...
The once haughty gatekeeper trembled violently, kneeling with his head pressed to the ground, too terrified to look up as at least one or two thousand pairs of boots marched past him.
The gatekeeper knew it was over!
The inner courtyard.
Dong'guo, still swaying on the swing, faintly caught the sound of the deafening crash.
"What was that noise?"
"Must be nothing."
The nanny and the maid pushing the swing both shook their heads; they genuinely hadn't heard a thing.
Dong'guo felt a lingering sense of puzzlement.
Perhaps only Jiang Qingyun could explain the phenomenon—there was a partially correct rule that a person's sensitivity to sound was directly proportional to the generalized wealth they possessed.
...
Clatter.
The courtyard gate was kicked open abruptly, and a horde of soldiers rushed in, terrifying the female residents into shrieking hysterically.
Yet, the more miserably they screamed, the more exhilarated Censor Jiang became.
With his hand resting on the hilt of his saber, Jiang Qingyun spotted the girl still swaying on the swing at a single glance.
"My lord, this is Princess Dong'guo, Dorgon's only flesh and blood, just turning sixteen."
At this moment, Dong'guo was rigid all over, gripping the ropes of the swing tightly. She wanted to get down, but the swing's momentum refused, and Lord Newton's physics refused.
Thus, she had no choice but to keep swaying along with the swing.
...
As everyone knew, the female residents of ancient aristocratic households dressed rather casually in their inner quarters. Because there were no male servants inside, no male creatures would ever appear there aside from the master of the house.
A poem went:
*Her gauze tunic is the pale, charming tint of tender willow,
Hairpins clipped into exquisite autumn leaves of filigree;
A slender, delicate waist of timid grace,
Like one recovering from illness, draped in light silk.*
Another poem went:
*Loosely tied silk skirts half-reveal the skin,
Powdered snow half-hidden in the morning light.*
This was the finest description of the scene.
Taking in this sight, Censor Jiang conceived a thought that was vastly overstepping his bounds, yet undeniably thrilling.
"All of you, withdraw."
"Understood."
The soldiers scurried out of the inner courtyard en masse, fearing they might ruin the lord's good time.
Before the operation, the lord had already declared:
"Obedience is your vocation. Even if this official orders you to burn down the Huguo Temple, you must not hesitate. Hesitation is disloyalty, and hesitation will be purged."
...
"Get out!"
The nanny and maids instantly scrambled along the base of the wall.
"Get back here!"
As if struck by lightning, the nanny and maids hurried right back.
Censor Jiang's military order had been so erratic because he suddenly realized the risks latent in his upcoming actions.
Being alone with Dorgon's daughter might easily lead to impeachment.
Even a mere thirty breaths could not easily be explained away. Within those thirty breaths, what exactly had you done to an imperial princess? There was ample material there for political enemies to exploit.
...
The swing was still drifting; the friction coefficient was far too low.
"Come, hold that damned swing still for this official!"
The swing finally came to a halt. Jiang Qingyun took two steps forward, widening his bovine eyes to carefully appraise this female prisoner of state.
The nanny hastily tried to dissuade him:
"Imperial Commissioner, Princess Dong'guo is only sixteen years old."
"So what if she's sixteen? In our Great Qing, at sixteen one can go to prison, go to war, be beheaded, and be married off."
...
Jiang Qingyun remained completely unmoved, continuing his majestic inspection of the female prisoner. On top she wore a top-tier silk tunic, on the bottom embroidered trousers, covered by an outer layer of plain, pleated, knee-length skirts.
Seeing that the situation was turning ominous, the old nanny tried a different tactic of persuasion:
"Imperial Commissioner, Princess Dong'guo's mother was a daughter of the Korean royal lineage. No matter what, you cannot do this."
"A prince who breaks the law is punished the same as a commoner. Come, strip this fat of the people from her and replace it with coarse cloth prisoner garb."
Within the span of half an incense stick.
Dong'guo, looking as though she had been shoved inside a burlap sack, was chased out of the inner courtyard and forced to squat in the yard.
Jiang Qingyun kicked open a room door, rolled her discarded garments into a bundle, and shoved them into his tunic.
His first impression was—lightness.
A single tunic weighed less than half a tael; three of them could fit inside a matchbox.
The poet Lu You once wrote: *Lift it as though it were nothing, cut it to make garments, truly like mist.*
Prior to his transmigrated life, Jiang Qingyun had seen a similar unearthed artifact behind a museum glass case.
Such a precious treasure had to be confiscated!
Setting aside his misgivings, Jiang Qingyun had actually wanted to act on behalf of justice a moment ago to thoroughly discipline this female prisoner and let her taste the might of the law.
No! Jiang's Law!
...
Emerging from the courtyard gates, Jiang Qingyun lashed out viciously against the wall, *crack*, splitting the plaster.
"Su-ksa-ha!"
"This subordinate is here!"
"Go search the study and the bedchambers. Dig up every last piece of evidence concerning Dorgon's treason."
"This subordinate obeys."
Suksaha's chest bulged noticeably. He had come prepared; if he couldn't find evidence today, he would simply fabricate some of his own.
...
Jiang Qingyun's declaration just now effectively set the tone for the entire operation.
Treason!
In the feudal era, everyone knew the crushing weight of those two characters—a single word could build a mountain of skulls.