Chapter Thirty-Nine: The Law of Thieves and Robbers

San Jian had never ventured far from home before, and neither had Lady Fu. Lady Fu was a native of Qiongtai Danzhou, born and raised among the Li people, and since the day she drew breath, she had never left Danzhou—not even her small fishing village. Years ago, Li San Jian’s father, Li Qing, had been exiled to Qiongtai Danzhou along with his family. The life of an exile was harsh, so it was no surprise that Li Qing had married a Li woman.

According to Song law, inter-ethnic marriages were strictly forbidden—Han people could not wed those of other tribes. Thus, strictly speaking, Lady Fu was not Li Qing’s wife, but his concubine. The requirements for concubines under Song law were far less stringent. Yet Li Qing had no wife, only Lady Fu. After all, it was not easy for an exile to marry a Han woman. After bringing Lady Fu into his household, the two treated each other with respect, living as husband and wife in all but name. Li Qing was particularly fond of this gentle Li maiden.

Lady Fu had never left her small fishing village and knew nothing of the wider world. Though she had suffered scorn and humiliation in Danzhou, it was less severe among the poor folk of the village. But now, she was being bullied and shamed in ways she had never known. Hearing that she was to be taken before the magistrate, Lady Fu was overcome by panic and terror, begging in low tones for the sons of officials to spare them.

Li San Jian’s uncle, Fu Lin, was furious but, as a poor commoner, he harbored a deep-seated fear of the powerful and dared not speak out, though anger burned within him.

“Spare you?” one of the young men laughed. “If you want us to let you go, you’ll have to kneel and kowtow a few times. Maybe then we’ll be merciful.”

“Please… spare us,” Lady Fu pleaded. “My child is also a student at the county school. For the sake of your fellow classmates…”

She had overheard them say that they too studied at the county school.

“You mean Li San Jian?” another young man sneered. “Who knows where that bastard came from. Just because he wrote a ridiculous essay in the public examination, now he’s being recommended to the prefectural school? Absurd!”

Li San Jian had won high praise from the academicians and was to be recommended to study at the prefectural and county schools. This news had long spread through the county school. Some were genuinely happy for him, like Zeng Gongming, but most were envious and angry—especially since San Jian’s time at the school was less than a year, far shorter than theirs. Most importantly, he came from humble origins, which made many students feel suffocated with resentment.

How could they tolerate a lowborn rising above them?

“Who is Li San Jian, that dog? A mere lowborn! Enough chatter—either pay up, face the magistrate, or kneel and beg forgiveness,” another county student spat.

“Sister, don’t beg them. Let’s go,” Fu Lin said angrily.

“I’d like to see who dares leave!” a young man shouted.

“What do you want?” Fu Lin demanded, his voice furious.

Fu Lin was strong, and his anger made his muscles stand out, causing the group to retreat a few steps.

“You lowborn, do you want to cause trouble? Do you know who you’re facing?” another youth pointed to a particularly arrogant companion.

His tone was fierce, but it was all bravado.

“Fu Lin, don’t. I’ll kneel,” Lady Fu cried, hurrying to intercede.

“Who? Not even the emperor has the right to publicly shame a weak woman like this. Where is justice? Where is the law of Great Song?” Li San Jian finally arrived, just in time to witness the scene. Fury ignited in his heart, and he shouted, “Mother, don’t kneel!”

Li San Jian rushed forward and lifted Lady Fu to her feet.

Shankui was also furious, fists clenched, glowering at the group.

“San Jian, San Jian…” Lady Fu clung to him, weeping. “San Jian, your mother is useless. I’ve brought you trouble.”

“It’s nothing. Uncle, please take mother aside. I’ll handle this,” Li San Jian said calmly to Fu Lin.

Fu Lin nodded and led Lady Fu away.

Li San Jian turned to the arrogant youth, his face expressionless. “Who are you?”

There were many students at the Lingshan County School, and Li San Jian, absorbed in his studies, didn’t know everyone by name or status.

“This is Wu Yanei, son of Wu the Registrar,” someone answered for him.

Wu the Registrar? Li San Jian nearly laughed aloud. The son of a mere county registrar, so arrogant?

Li San Jian didn’t know much about Song officials yet, but he understood that a registrar was no more than a petty clerk in the county office, not even a proper official, responsible for paperwork and records.

He’d read Water Margin thoroughly, which described Song Jiang, the registrar, quite clearly.

But then he recalled: though a registrar was nothing in the bureaucracy, to ordinary folk, he was a towering figure—often bullying the people, who feared him like a wolf.

“So you’re Wu Yanei. My respects,” Li San Jian said, unruffled. “Why do you trouble my mother?”

“That old hag was reckless and soiled my clothes. Shouldn’t she pay for the damage?” Wu Yanei answered coldly.

Li San Jian’s anger blazed at this humiliation of his mother—a grievance that could never be forgiven.

Though furious, Li San Jian had no intention of resorting to violence. With Fu Lin and Shankui’s strength, they could easily thrash these scoundrels, even kill them.

But San Jian, though not yet fifteen, was mature and cautious. He would not act rashly.

If he injured or killed them, his family would be imprisoned or forced to flee, never to know peace again.

He knew Song law was harsh—you could not kill or beat people at will. He’d heard this many times.

Debt must be repaid, murder punished—so it had always been.

Song’s penal code was severe, but enforcement varied. It depended on one’s status. The harshest punishments were reserved for commoners; the families of officials or nobility could use their privileges to escape the law. This had always been so.

The humiliation of his mother would have to be avenged another day, San Jian resolved.

“Oh? How much must we pay? Please, Wu Yanei, name your price,” Li San Jian asked, still polite.

“Hmph, smart boy,” Wu Yanei sneered. “These clothes are priceless. How could you possibly afford them? But since you’re a fellow student, I’ll let you off easy—just five hundred strings of cash. Well? Pay up.”

Wu Yanei and his companions sized up Li San Jian and his family with contempt. Five hundred strings? They probably couldn’t muster five strings.

That suited them perfectly—they could humiliate San Jian even more and vent their spite. This was their common thought.

“Outrageous! You’re bullying us! This rag of yours is priceless? It’s not worth even five strings, let alone five hundred! I’m furious—look…” Before Li San Jian could respond, Chen Ke’er was already furious, hand on her sword, ready to act.

Li San Jian quickly pinched her arm to stop her.

He wondered how her parents had spoiled her so thoroughly—she was always quick to fight. Did she not realize that killing was a capital offense?

“Ke’er, don’t worry. I’ll handle this,” Li San Jian said to her.

“Oh…” Chen Ke’er didn’t find his touch inappropriate; she was so used to San Jian’s boldness that she hardly noticed anymore.

Li San Jian had visited the tailor and knew the price of silk clothing. While fine silk was expensive, the garment Wu Yanei wore was worth no more than ten strings. The man was extorting them.

Li San Jian genuinely could not produce five hundred strings. Nearly a year of study had drained his funds—what Chen Yide had given him was almost gone.

San Jian stared at Wu Yanei in silence, unsettling him. After a moment, Wu Yanei asked, “What are you planning?”

Li San Jian was handsome—did he plan to seduce him? Wu Yanei wondered. If only San Jian were a few years younger… perhaps…

Everyone, including Chen Ke’er, sensed something ambiguous in San Jian’s gaze, as if Wu Yanei were some delicacy.

“Hey, bookworm, what are you daydreaming about?” Chen Ke’er tugged San Jian’s sleeve anxiously.

She knew a bit of his past. Was he having another episode? She worried silently.

But San Jian’s next words solved the mystery and startled everyone.

“Wu Gui, what crime have you committed?” Li San Jian shouted.

Wu Yanei’s full name was Wu Gui. His father named him in hopes he’d win the imperial examination—‘Gui’ for laurels—but it also sounded like ‘turtle’.

San Jian’s sudden shout transformed his gentle face to a fierce mask, startling Wu Gui, whose jowls quivered thrice as he stammered, “What crime have I committed?”

“Brother Donglin, what is the value of this man’s clothing?” San Jian asked Zeng Gongming.

“Certainly no more than ten strings,” Zeng Gongming replied, surprised.

“Ten-string clothing, yet you demand five hundred. Why? This is extortion. According to the Penal Code’s laws regarding thieves and robbers, those who extort more than twenty bolts are to be executed, while the rest are exiled. You are the ringleader, so you should be put to death; the others exiled,” Li San Jian said coldly.

San Jian had regained his memory, and as the county school required study of Song law, he knew the penal code well enough.