“My lord, come eat with us,” little Wang Qiong said happily, holding a chicken leg and inviting Zhu Ping’an to join them.
“Thank you, little brother, but I’ve already had dinner,” Zhu Ping’an said, smiling as he thanked Wang Qiong.
“How could the lord eat with you?”
Before Zhu Ping’an could finish, Wang Zhi’s wife tugged at her naive son, quietly scolding him with her head lowered.
The happy expression on little Wang Qiong’s face turned to disappointment.
But the next moment, his fleeting disappointment transformed into delight as Zhu Ping’an’s voice came from above.
“I’ve only got one stomach, so I’ll pass today,” Zhu Ping’an said with a smile. “But tomorrow, how about we eat together? Let me tell you, tomorrow the camp’s serving mutton soup, paired with a few flatbreads and a plate of crisp side dishes. I guarantee your little belly will be stuffed round.”
“Really? What does mutton soup taste like? I’ve never had it,” Wang Qiong said, his face full of anticipation.
Hearing Wang Qiong’s words, Wang Zhi’s mother and wife couldn’t help but wipe away tears, their hearts aching for him.
“You’ll find out when you try it tomorrow,” Zhu Ping’an said with a smile.
“Alright, it’s a deal! Tomorrow we’ll drink mutton soup together,” Wang Qiong said earnestly. “I know you’re a great lord. Tomorrow, I’ll give you all the meat from my bowl. I can fill up without meat. Thank you for having someone bring my grandma, my mum, and me out of prison. My grandma and mum were so worried we’d be executed. I’m not afraid. Today’s been great—better than all the years I can remember. Even if I have to be executed, it’s worth it. I just hope you won’t execute my grandma and mum. I’m a Wang, but they’re not. If someone has to die, let it be me first, so my grandma and mum can live a few more days.”
Wang Qiong spoke of farewell with a face beaming with happiness, without a trace of complaint. His only plea was for his grandmother and mother to live a few more days, not wanting to trouble Zhu Ping’an.
At this, Wang Zhi’s mother and wife couldn’t hold back their tears again.
The mention of execution reignited their fear, a constant dread that never left them.
As they’d said before, they weren’t afraid of death—or rather, they’d already accepted the likelihood of it. Wang Zhi’s piracy was a crime punishable by the extermination of nine generations. The moment his crimes were exposed, they knew their fate was sealed. But little Wang Qiong was too pitiable.
“Execute me first, execute this old woman, and let my daughter-in-law and grandson live a few more days,” Wang Zhi’s mother said, tears streaming down. “It’s all my fault, my no-good son who never learned right. I failed to raise him properly. When my husband passed away young, he told me to discipline our son strictly, but I thought the boy was pitiful without a father. I couldn’t bear to be harsh, and that led him to stray, step by step, to where he is today. Every mistake is mine. Execute me first.”
Her face was visibly etched with regret as she spoke of failing to discipline Wang Zhi in his youth.
“No, no, execute me first. Let my mother-in-law and Qiong’er live a few more days,” Wang Zhi’s wife said, also in tears. “If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. I kept nagging at home about not having enough money. I encouraged him to go out and make a fortune in business. And when he came back from his first sea voyage, I didn’t hold firm—I didn’t stop him from going out again…”
“It’s not Grandma’s fault, it’s not Mum’s fault. It’s all Wang Zhi’s fault. He’s the bad one. He’s the one who got Grandma and Mum in trouble,” little Wang Qiong said, earnestly comforting his his grandmother and mother.
Ever since he learned that Wang Zhi’s piracy had led to his grandmother and mother being locked in prison to await death, he stopped calling Wang Zhi “Father,” instead using his name—Wang Zhi—to express his disapproval.
“Rest assured, none of you will die. Not one of you will be executed because of Wang Zhi. This I can guarantee,” Zhu Ping’an said solemnly. “I am the Governor of Zhejiang, and my word holds weight.”
“Really?” Wang Qiong asked, looking up at him.
“Of course it’s true,” Zhu Ping’an said, nodding seriously. “If I meant to execute you, why would I go to all the trouble of bringing you out of Jinhua prison? That would be like dropping my trousers to fart—pointless.”
“Isn’t it so that, when we go to war with Wang Zhi, you can execute us before the battle to raise the flag?” Wang Qiong asked timidly.
He’d overheard his mother and grandmother whispering about this while he was sleeping on the journey, and it stuck in his mind.
Wang Zhi’s mother and wife tensed, looking at Zhu Ping’an—this was their fear too.
“Haha, you think too much,” Zhu Ping’an said, shaking his head with a smile. “If we really executed you before the battle, the vengeance for killing a mother, wife, and son would enrage Wang Zhi and his pirates, doubling their fighting strength. It’s akin to the principle that a grieving army is bound to win. Why would I make trouble for myself? I’m not that foolish.”
Hearing Zhu Ping’an’s explanation, Wang Zhi’s mother and wife nodded, finding it reasonable.
Back in their hometown, they’d heard many tales of sons avenging their fathers’ murders, driven by righteous fury to slay powerful enemies. Such hatred from killing kin could indeed make a person’s combat strength soar in anger.
“Then why did you bring us out of Jinhua prison, my lord?” Wang Qiong asked.
“Is the lord hoping Wang Zhi will surrender for our sake?” Wang Zhi’s wife said, wiping her tears and speaking softly. “I dare not deceive you, my lord—it won’t work. Another lord tried it, and it failed. After that, Wang Zhi treated us as dead. That year, he even held a funeral for us. I’ve heard he’s taken many new women now. He doesn’t lack for wives or children.”
She didn’t dare conceal the truth. If Zhu Ping’an tried to use them to force Wang Zhi’s surrender, it would likely end as it did before—Wang Zhi would refuse, unyielding. If Zhu Ping’an grew furious at the rejection, their fate would be even worse.
So she spoke of the past, hoping to prevent Zhu Ping’an from lashing out at them in anger if his plan failed.
As she’d said, she wasn’t afraid of death, but she feared for Wang Qiong’s death—especially a cruel death at the hands of those in power.
“I know about that,” Zhu Ping’an said with a smile.
“What? You knew, my lord?” Wang Zhi’s wife said, incredulous.
Wang Zhi’s mother was equally stunned.
“I brought you from Jinhua prison and am treating you kindly to show Wang Zhi, to give him a chance to reform and atone for his crimes, to demonstrate my sincerity,” Zhu Ping’an said candidly.
“What?”
Wang Zhi’s mother and wife gasped, their mouths agape. In an instant, their eyes brimmed with excited tears.
“My lord, you’re saying you’ll give Wang Zhi a chance to reform and atone?” Wang Zhi’s mother asked, trembling with emotion.
“Indeed,” Zhu Ping’an said, nodding.
