Chapter 1080 – The Grief of the Meng Clan (7)
Feng Jue and Nie Xun exchanged silent glances.
Jiang Pengji stated, “What danger could exist here? If anything, let Meng Xiaowei accompany us.”
“Lord—”
Li Yun hesitated for a moment, stealing a glance at Meng Hunyun, whose expression was complicated, and took a step back.
Meng Hunyun clasped his fists at Li Yun, gratitude flickering in his eyes.
Before they set off, Meng Heng hesitated, shooting a pleading look at Jiang Pengji.
No matter how Meng Zhan treated him, they were still father and son. Meng Heng could disregard Meng Zhan’s life, but he didn’t want to see him die with his own eyes.
However, Jiang Pengji shook her head.
“A father and son should see each other off.”
Meng Heng replied, “Understood.”
Nie Xun, overhearing their exchange, felt a chill in his heart.
Is this person really going to force Meng Heng to commit patricide?
Feng Jue said, “The dungeon is dark and damp. Why not bring the prisoner out?”
“No need, I’ll go check it myself; I haven’t seen the dungeon yet.”
As Feng Jue mentioned, the dungeon was in terrible condition, filled with the pungent stink of moisture and scurrying rats in the shadows.
The temperature in the dungeon was significantly cooler than outside. As soon as they stepped in, a wave of cold air hit them, making one feel uneasy all over.
Jiang Pengji walked in without flinching, and Feng Jue led her to a relatively large and clean cell.
“Meng Zhan seems to be living quite comfortably; I thought he might suffer a bit in prison.”
The cell was large, easily around a hundred square meters.
It had a straw bed, a tea table, a food tray, and even a toilet—everything one could need.
Feng Jue opened the cell door, startling Meng Zhan inside.
Upon hearing Jiang Pengji’s voice, he guessed the identity of the visitor.
Ironically, he had hated Liu Zhi and his daughter for years and sought revenge, yet he had never even seen their faces.
“Uncle Meng, I suppose this is our first meeting, isn’t it?”
Jiang Pengji signaled for Feng Jue and the others to step back, leaving only Meng Hunyun by her side.
Meng Zhan adjusted his long white hair neatly and washed his face with warm water, showing no signs of dirt or grease; he looked much more spirited than before. Yet he aged quickly, his complexion taking on an unhealthy gray, and his eye sockets were deeply sunken, making him appear pitifully old.
Despite his poor vitality, his appearance was still tidy.
He wore a jade crown atop his head and a dark blue scholar’s robe that clung to his upright spine, barely hinting at the elegance he once possessed in his youth.
Meng Zhan raised his head, squinting his eyes to scrutinize Jiang Pengji. “You still dare to call me Uncle Meng?”
“Though you severed ties with my father, you are still the ex-husband of my aunt, so calling you ‘Uncle’ is the courtesy I owe as a junior.”
Meng Zhan calmly mocked, “You kill my beloved son, yet you speak of courtesy.”
Jiang Pengji maintained her composure, replying coldly, “Uncle Meng, are you aware of what your good son, Meng Liang, did back in the day? He dared to lay eyes on my aunt. As his parent, how can you not feel anger? My aunt is not only my father’s wife but also my mother’s younger sister. Given my relations, I could never turn a blind eye to your illegitimate son bullying her. Moreover, Meng Liang, along with his dubious friends, disguised themselves to sneak into the backyards of common folk and violated innocent women—his death was well-deserved.”
At the mention of Gu Zhen, Meng Zhan’s expression shifted slightly before he quickly returned to calm.
“And so what? Liang’er is merely mischievous and can be corrected. If there’s any wrongdoing, I, as his father, will punish him.”
Meng Liang’s escapades with his dubious friends were not new; Meng Zhan had cleaned up after him numerous times. While he was indeed angry at his son’s behavior, what could he do? His only flesh and blood—who else should he protect?
Jiang Pengji scoffed, “Did Uncle Meng ever say something in his parlor?”
Meng Zhan raised an eyebrow, “What did I say?”
“If you can’t properly discipline your son, don’t blame others for teaching him. I believe Meng Liang is beyond saving, so I sent him on his way. Do you know how I killed him? I cut his wrist, bled him out until he died.”
Even with Meng Zhan’s composure, hearing the murderer of his son describe how she killed him unleashed an uncontrollable fury.
“Are you angry?” Jiang Pengji laughed, “Just wait, it gets worse. Want to hear?”
Meng Zhan sneered, “No wonder you’re the daughter of Liu Zhi and Gu Min—born of a viper’s nest, indeed cruel and shameless.”
“I could never compare to you, Uncle Meng. If I possessed even a fraction of your prowess, I would have no regrets in this life.”
The atmosphere grew tense. Meng Hunyun glared daggers at Meng Zhan—once his old master—unable to believe so many years had passed and Meng Zhan had shown no hint of remorse. Meng Zhan’s son was precious, but other people’s wives and children were nothing to him?
“Liu Lanting, did you come just to spar with this old man?” Meng Zhan sneered, his face lined with age but his eyes sharp and spirited. “If your only trick is this, I advise you, spare yourself the embarrassment before me.”
Jiang Pengji crossed her arms and sat across from Meng Zhan.
“I wish I could lay all my cards on the table, but I’m afraid that Uncle Meng can’t handle it.”
Meng Zhan’s expression darkened.
Meng Heng and the others stood at a distance, unable to hear the conversation between Jiang Pengji and Meng Zhan, yet the tension in the air was palpable.
“Uncle Meng has health issues, making it difficult for him to father children, right?”
Jiang Pengji shifted her pose casually, a cold smile on her face.
“What are you trying to say?”
“This matter concerns a man’s dignity and must be kept confidential. Except for you and your trusted physician, hardly anyone knows.” Ignoring his question, she continued, “When my aunt married you, she was attacked by a band of bandits. Though it was a close call, she was ultimately saved, and the wedding proceeded as planned. However, on that night, the bride had no blood to shed, and it was you who helped conceal the matter.”
At first, Meng Zhan listened calmly, but as she continued, he grew increasingly uneasy.
There were many details of that incident only he knew, yet Jiang Pengji recounted them in such detail it felt as if she had witnessed it herself.
“A month later, my aunt was found to be pregnant, and the timing coincided with their wedding night. Uncle Meng, with your health issues, you must have felt insecure, seeing her interact closely with others and questioning the legitimacy of the child in her womb—”
Meng Zhan interrupted her coldly.
“It’s not a matter of suspicion; Meng Heng’s illegitimate child was not mine.” He would never forget the humiliation of being cuckolded; his newlywed wife cheating on him. He suddenly lamented, “What a pity—”
Jiang Pengji frowned, “What do you find regrettable?”
A fierce expression flashed across Meng Zhan’s face, “It’s a pity the ‘Four Books for Women’ was published too late, too late! If it had come thirty years earlier—”
Before the ‘Four Books for Women’ emerged, societal morals were much more relaxed.
Women having paramours wasn’t deemed scandalous, and premarital loss of purity wasn’t severe—at most, it would lead to a few whispers, and no one would die.
Meng Zhan did genuinely like Gu Zhen; otherwise, he wouldn’t have actively sought to marry a concubine, even urging his close friend Liu Zhi to help plead his case.
