Feudal Dregs - Chapter 53

This wasn't Li Ming'an's first time in a police station.

He often participated in student protests with his classmates, promoting new ideas, and sometimes got arrested. Even when detained, the police never dared lay hands on them—they were university students.

But this time was completely different. Even the holding cell was filthier, darker, the air thick with decay and the faint metallic tang of blood. When first imprisoned, Ming'an and his classmates remained composed—young men in their twenties, full of vigor, pride and naivete.

But that afternoon, they were separated. The guards roughly dragged them away, leaving only Ming'an behind.

Ming'an shouted urgently, "What are you doing?!"

One of them smirked without warmth. "Third Young Master Li, you'd best mind your own business and stay put."

When Ming'an tried to intervene, he was shoved into a cell. Banging on the iron bars angrily, he yelled, "How dare you touch them!"

The guard outside the cell feigned distress. "We've no choice. Of all people to hit, you had to strike foreigners—those are people we can touch?"

He continued, "We've seen this before, so I'll be frank. The men you attacked aren't ordinary. The embassy's pressuring our superiors now, and someone must take the blame. You just stay quiet here and wait for your family to collect you. Don't make more trouble."

Ming'an said indifferently, "So what? Are foreigners superior beings who can openly humiliate us Chinese?"

"This is the Republic of China, and the Republic has its own laws," Li Ming'an glared at them, his words ringing firm. "You must act according to the law."

The prison guard looked at Li Ming'an and chuckled dismissively, replying, "Yes, you're absolutely right."

He didn't argue with Li Ming'an, his attitude casual as he said, "But we have our own difficulties too. Please try to understand."

With that, he turned to leave. Watching his classmates being dragged away with their hands twisted behind their backs, Li Ming'an urgently called out, "Wait!"

"If anyone should take responsibility, it should be me!" Li Ming'an insisted. "I was the one who started it, and I struck the hardest. They just followed my lead...

The guard cut him off. "Third Young Master, who the instigator was and who threw the first punch—that's something we'll determine after our investigation.

"Move out."

With a wave of his hand, the group hauled the university students away from Li Ming'an's cell. Clutching the iron bars tightly, Li Ming'an pounded them in frustration and fury, the clanging echoing through the cell. "Come back here!"

"You bastards!"

Li Ming'an had never imagined finding himself in such a predicament. That day, he and his classmates had gone out to buy a few books, only to stumble upon three foreigners harassing several poorly dressed commoners on the street. The terrified locals, already struggling to survive, dared not offend the foreigners, bowing their heads and shrinking into themselves.

Their subservience only made the foreigners laugh louder, their arrogance growing by the minute.

Li Ming'an and his classmates, all educated students, were instantly overcome with indignation, feeling a surge of shame so intense they couldn't stand by. They stepped forward to confront the foreigners. The crowd around them swelled, and before anyone knew it, fists were flying. By the time Li Ming'an realized what was happening, he was already brawling with the foreigners, his glasses knocked to the ground.

Rubbing his temples, Li Ming'an stared blankly at the kerosene lamp outside his cell. The cell was crude—he sat on a rough wooden bench, his hand resting on an old, sticky tabletop. The table was worn, stained with what looked like black grime. When Li Ming'an absentmindedly touched it, he realized it was dried blood. A wave of nausea rose in his throat, and he sprang to his feet.

Li Ming'an had been arrested before, but he had always acted with integrity, unafraid of the corrupt forces around him. Besides, he was never alone—his fellow students stood with him. They were scholars, whether protesting or giving speeches, backed by the passionate student community of Beijing, armed with their pens and ideals. They sang of martyrdom and courage, emboldened by their righteousness.

But Li Ming'an was no naive youth. He knew that striking foreigners could easily escalate into a diplomatic incident. Even if they were in the right, the authorities might sacrifice them to appease the foreigners.

A nation so weak had no control over its own affairs.

Li Ming'an felt lost and helpless, deeply worried about his classmates who had been taken away. Suddenly, he recalled Lan Yu's words: "The reason you can stand here and speak so boldly today is solely because of the Li family's backing—ensuring you never go hungry or fear for your life."

If he weren't surnamed Li today, if he weren't the third young master of the Li family, those patrol officers probably wouldn't have bothered with idle talk—and he certainly wouldn't be standing here unharmed.

This thought made Li Ming'an's heart grow even heavier, an indescribable restlessness churning inside him.

For over a decade, Li Ming'an had lived smoothly. Born with an eye condition and a gentle temperament, he wasn't the favorite of the old Li patriarch. But with Madam Zhao's devoted care and meticulous attention, and given that the three Li brothers had vastly different personalities—Li Ming'an, lacking ambition, naturally avoided any fraternal strife—he had been free to pursue whatever he wished.

Now, back in prison, he felt an inexplicable unease.

Li Ming'an lay awake through the night. Then, deep into the second night, he suddenly heard screams. Distant, they traveled through the long, ghostly corridor, faintly reaching his ears. Li Ming'an jolted upright, staring wide-eyed into the pitch-black passage. Soon, he recognized the voice—it belonged to one of his classmates. His heart pounded violently as he rushed to grip the bars, desperate to grab the guard outside. "What are they doing to him? Huh?" he demanded urgently.

The guard lounged lazily on his stool, utterly unfazed. "Didn't the third young master hear it?"

Li Ming'an snapped, "How dare you use illegal torture?"

The guard chuckled. "You jest, third young master. This is standard interrogation."

Another agonized scream pierced the air. Li Ming'an's palms were slick with sweat. He slammed a fist against the bars. "What's there to interrogate? At worst, it was a street brawl! What gives you the right to torture him?"

The guard yawned. "Third young master, you beat up a foreigner. That's no ordinary brawl—who knows if someone put you up to it?" He spoke casually, smirking at Li Ming'an. "Wouldn't you agree?"

Li Ming'an nearly cursed aloud. "We're just university students—scholars! Who would be pulling our strings?"

"Who can say?" The guard shrugged. "That's why we need a thorough interrogation."

Li Ming'an glared at him. "You have no evidence, yet you subject students to brutal torture? Is this how your police department operates?"

The guard lifted his eyelids lazily, sauntering over to the cell. He tapped the iron bars with his baton—each strike heavy, like a boulder crushing one's spirit. "Third young master," he said slowly, "if you'd beaten an ordinary man, given your status, we wouldn't dare keep you here. But this time, you laid hands on a foreigner—“

"You should understand that this matter is no small affair," the prison guard said meaningfully.

Li Ming'an remained silent for a moment before replying, "I already said, I was the main one who acted this time..."

The guard chuckled. "Are you really this clueless, or are you pretending?"

Li Ming'an froze, then quickly realized—most likely, the embassy had pressured the police station, and now the station needed someone to take the blame. But they couldn't pin it on Li Ming'an, so they had to push the responsibility onto those students who had no connections.

His expression darkened instantly. The guard clicked his tongue and said, "Why did you have to go picking fights with foreigners? Look at you and your classmates—soft-skinned and tender. How much torture do you think you can handle?"

Li Ming'an stared straight at the guard, their eyes locking. His fingers clenched into fists as the distant sounds gradually faded, stirring unease in his chest. "My classmates... are they alright?"

The guard pondered for a moment before grinning. "They should be fine for now. But after being tortured and thrown back in, who knows?"

"Go check on them for me," Li Ming'an said. "I'll pay you—fifty silver dollars. Just bring them some medicine."

The guard smirked. "Make it a hundred."

Li Ming'an gritted his teeth. "Fine."

The guard laughed. "Third Young Master has a kind heart. Alright, I'll help you out this once."

Li Ming'an fixed him with a cold gaze and said in a low voice, "They're my classmates. If anything happens to them in this police station, I won't let you off."

The guard stiffened, meeting Li Ming'an's eyes. The young man's delicate features still held traces of boyishness, but the intensity of his stare sent an inexplicable chill down the guard's spine.

With a forced smile, the guard turned and left.

Li Ming'an endured three agonizing days in the cell before Li Yuqing finally arrived—fashionably late, as always.

Dressed in his military uniform, Li Yuqing's boots struck the cold, hard floor with sharp precision. The top buttons of his jacket were undone, exuding an air of careless arrogance.

The guard greeted him with deference. "Second Master, this way."

Li Ming'an looked at Li Yuqing, licking his cracked lips before calling out, "Second Brother."

Li Yuqing glanced at the guard, who promptly unlocked the cell and tactfully withdrew. He strolled inside, eyeing a stool to sit on, but the moment his fingers brushed the grimy surface, he recoiled in disgust.

Silence stretched between them until Li Ming'an couldn't hold back any longer. "Second Brother... please check on my classmates. They—“

Li Yuqing let out a cold laugh. "Li Ming'an."

"You can't even save your own ass, and you're still worrying about others?"

Li Ming'an was stunned.

Li Yuqing lifted his gaze, scrutinizing his disheveled, pale-faced younger brother. "Do you have any idea how much trouble you've caused?"

Li Ming'an pressed his lips together, defiance flashing in his eyes. "I didn't do anything wrong—“

Li Yuqing scoffed. "Oh, you didn't? Then why the hell did you call me here to bail you out? If you're so righteous, walk out of here on your own."

Li Ming'an fell silent. After a long pause, he muttered, "Was I just supposed to stand by while they bullied our people?"

Li Yuqing paused, then said, "Some things you can interfere with, others you can't. And even when you do, there's a right way to go about it."

He looked at the bruises on Li Ming'an's cheekbones and the scrapes on his face, mocking, "And here I thought you were a scholar. Fighting in the streets—when did you become so impulsive?"

Li Ming'an opened his mouth but found no words.

Li Yuqing said, "Stay here and reflect on your actions for a few days."

"Second Brother..." Li Ming'an hesitated, "Please help rescue my classmates. They're innocent..."

Li Yuqing laughed in exasperation. "Since when did our Li family produce a saint?"

"You care about them, but they won't necessarily care about you."

Li Ming'an was stunned. "...What?"

Li Yuqing regarded him coolly. "They pinned everything on you—swore you were the one who instigated the fight against those foreigners." Li Ming'an stood frozen. Li Yuqing said, "Think it over yourself."

***

A helpless, furious little pup.

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