Chapter 51#

Historical records are bound to differ somewhat from reality, and besides, Shen Zheng’s understanding of Daqian was not comprehensive.#

Seeing his brow furrow slightly, Wen Zhuo explained in a gentle tone, “The position of Prefectural Granary Commissioner is usually established alongside the local prefectural government. Originally, it was a minor ninth-rank official in charge of the local grain revenue and expenditure, as well as the maintenance of storage facilities. However, in the past two dynasties, as times changed, they also began to be responsible for inspecting and accepting the tributes delivered to the court from various regions.”

Huang Ting raised his eyelids, looked at Wen Zhuo, and said, “Your Excellency the Academy Head must already understand—though the Prefectural Granary Commissioner is an insignificant official, it is a truly lucrative post!”

Mo Shu exchanged a glance with Shen Zheng, seeming to grasp the gist of it as well.

There was a hint of sarcasm in Huang Ting’s voice: “Take Mianzhou for example. Every year, the local area supplies the court with ambergris, frankincense, and other spices. Whether they are of good or poor quality is entirely determined by the Prefectural Granary Commissioner’s word. If he deliberately picks faults, the local officials and commoners will suffer. Often, they deliver ten parts of high-quality goods, but in the end, it’s a blessing if even one part is recorded as qualified. In Nanzhou, Huizhou, and other places, countless local officials rack their brains to bribe and curry favor, and this has long been an open secret.”

“Speaking of which, Your Excellency, do you still remember why you were impeached by the Huizhou Prefect back then?” Huang Ting’s thin frame made his shrewd eyes stand out even more.

Wen Zhuo said, “He believed Bozhou had snatched Huizhou’s Songluo tea business.”

“That was only one of the reasons.” Huang Ting took a sip of tea and said slowly, “According to regulations, the annual tribute tea from each region must be delivered to the Ministry of Rites within a set deadline, totaling about four thousand catties per year. Huizhou was originally the core production area for tribute tea, bearing a share of two thousand three hundred and fifty catties alone. The burden on the common people was immense, as you can imagine. The remaining one thousand six hundred and fifty catties were shared among Liangzhou, Kanzhou, Luzhou, Tangzhou, and Gezhou. In Bozhou, where you served, the cultivation of Songluo tea was increasing, yet it was exempt from this fixed quota. The people could use the tea for their own benefit. How could the Huizhou Prefect feel at ease?”

This was the first time Wen Zhuo had heard of this hidden detail. It seemed that the intricacies of officialdom were truly a different world.

“So that’s how it was. Back then, I only wanted to find a way for the people of Bozhou to make a living, and I inadvertently avoided the tribute obligation, without sharing the burden with the others.”

“Exactly.” Huang Ting set down his tea cup, turned to Shen Zheng, and said, “But Your Highness may not be aware that the Prefectural Granary Commissioners in places like Mianzhou and Liangzhou cannot be bribed. Because they are all men of the Prince of Xian. Tang Guangzhi, holding the power of appointment and dismissal in the Ministry of Personnel, has long placed his own people in such key lucrative positions. When they compile the annual reports, they only need to tighten their grip by a fraction to reap double the profits. It’s hard to catch them in the act; one can only say they are extremely strict in inspecting tributes and conscientious toward the court.”

Wen Zhuo’s charming eyes held a faint smile as he interjected casually, “Even if they were caught, it wouldn’t matter. Bu Zhangyi, who is responsible for auditing the granaries, is already on the same boat as them.”

Huang Ting closed his eyes and nodded heavily: “Your Excellency is truly perceptive.”

Shen Zheng looked thoughtful: “So that’s how the Prince of Xian accumulates wealth. It’s not bribery, but abuse of power.”

“…” The term was novel, but fortunately, the people in the study were sharp-minded. After a moment’s thought, they understood its meaning.

Wen Zhuo asked curiously, “With all those ‘unqualified’ tributes piling up, the Prince of Xian must have found a way to dispose of them. Didn’t the Crown Prince ever think of investigating this angle back then?”

“Part of them were naturally used to buy people’s favor, gifting them to various officials. As for the other part…” Huang Ting paused before continuing, “The Prince of Xian had long secretly sent people to open countless shops in the prefectures of Daqian—tea houses, embroidery studios, inns, chess rooms—all sorts. On the surface, they had nothing to do with him, making them impossible to trace. Moreover, those ‘unqualified’ tributes were never shipped to the capital. They were quietly disposed of locally. Back then, the Crown Prince had too few people in the local areas to effectively monitor the Prince of Xian’s faction. That’s why he had to use the Cao faction to amass wealth and cultivate his own confidants.”

Mo Shu’s expression turned grave: “This is indeed a thorny issue.”

“When His Majesty sent Your Highness on this disaster relief mission, I was truly sweating at first.” Huang Ting stroked the sparse beard on his pointed chin, a hint of satisfaction on his face. “But fortunately, Academy Head Wen is on our side. With the donations from the Mianzhou spice merchants, purchasing grain locally, and the one million taels of relief funds allocated by the Ministry of Revenue, it should be enough. The Prince of Xian is destined to miss out on this task!”

The downfall of the Crown Prince had dealt a heavy blow to Huang Ting. Seeing his old enemy suffer now brought him more joy than a windfall of wealth!

Mo Shu added, “My late father once went to Qianzhou for disaster relief. According to him, the situation in disaster-stricken areas is extremely complicated—rioters, roving bandits, and thieves mix together, making it hard to distinguish friend from foe. Back then, the Mo family members who risked their lives to escape from Qianzhou to deliver messages to me can accompany Your Highness on this trip.”

Huang Ting said happily, “That’s excellent!”

“Everyone.”

The candlelight on the desk flickered brightly. Seeing that they had almost finalized the plan, Shen Zheng couldn’t help but interrupt, “Aren’t we being a bit too optimistic?”

Three pairs of eyes turned to him in unison, faces full of confusion.

Shen Zheng chose his words carefully, trying to sound tactful: “Mianzhou might have no grain to sell. In fact, it is likely the hardest-hit among all the prefectures.”

Huang Ting blurted out, “How can you tell? Mianzhou has always been extremely wealthy, with abundant fertile farmland and full granaries.”

Wen Zhuo frowned slightly but only said, “In the official gazettes from the court, there is indeed no disaster report from Mianzhou.”

But he suddenly recalled what Gong Zhiyuan had said in court.

It didn’t surprise him that Gong Zhiyuan had aligned himself with Shen Chen and Xie Langyang now. In his previous life, Shen Chen had not dealt with his father-in-law, whom he had always looked down on.

Shen Chen had removed Gong Zhiyuan from the position of Grand Secretary and made him the presiding judge in Wen Zhuo’s trial, forcing him to deal with case files and testimonies day in and day out.

That day, Gong Zhiyuan had suddenly mentioned Mianzhou, and Xie Langyang had also desperately steered the conversation toward Mianzhou. Could it be that the trick in Mianzhou was the concealment of disaster reports?

If that were the case, they wouldn’t be able to buy grain at all. Shen Zheng’s mission would be a failure. With refugees rising up in several prefectures and potential rebellions, the situation would spiral out of control.

And if Mianzhou collapsed, the Prince of Xian would lose his cash cow, the people would starve, and Shen Zheng would inevitably lose the emperor’s favor forever.

Shen Chen’s move was truly vicious.

A cold smile formed in Wen Zhuo’s heart. He had long been prepared for Shen Chen’s malice, but he hadn’t expected that in just half a year, Xie Langyang would stoop so low as to treat millions of lives like mere weeds.

Mo Shu also asked, “Why does Your Highness say that?”

Shen Zheng naturally couldn’t say he was a time traveler who had read history books; he had to think of another way.

So he reached into his sleeve, took out the Daqian map he had prepared earlier, spread it flat on the table, and used a tea cup to hold down the corners.

He then picked up a brush from the brush holder, dipped it in the inkstone, and started drawing circles: “Here are Xingzhou and Jingzhou, and also Zhenzhou, Pingzhou, Gezhou, Liuzhou, Liuzhou, and Huizhou. All of these submitted reports of locust plagues last month.”

After marking all the affected locations, Shen Zheng paused his brush: “This locust outbreak came from the desert locusts of Adan. The flight path of locusts is generally influenced by geographical environment, monsoon patterns, and survival needs. So look.”

Shen Zheng’s brush tip pointed at Pingzhou, the closest to Adan: “In summer, the southwest monsoon blows, bringing the locusts from Adan to Pingzhou and Zhenzhou, so these two places were affected. By autumn, the northeast monsoon moves south, forming a stable airflow from South China to the southeast, and they drifted to Gezhou.”

Wen Zhuo leaned in closer, his lashes lowered as he examined carefully. Though many of the terms were awkward, he understood that Shen Zheng was talking about how wind direction affected the locusts’ movement.

Seeing that Wen Zhuo didn’t refute him, Shen Zheng drew a route and continued, “By this time, there are no more extreme weather events like heavy rain or typhoons. The swarm will continue forward with the gentle winds, from Gezhou to Xingzhou and Jingzhou—all river valley plains without any significant mountains. The locusts face almost no obstacles.”

Wen Zhuo understood this: locusts cannot cross natural barriers.

“The key point is here.” Shen Zheng’s brush landed heavily on Mianzhou, the ink spreading into a small blotch. “Mianzhou is near the sea. During the day, the land is warm and the sea is cool, so the wind blows toward the shore. At night, it reverses, blowing toward the sea, forming a… well, a local coastal circulation.”

Afraid they might not understand, he drew a diagram. “This circulating airflow will trap all the locusts here.”

Wen Zhuo understood. The reasoning was sound, but the handwriting left much to be desired. He had never seen such crude and unrestrained characters, as if the writer rarely used a brush.

Shen Zheng didn’t stop. He traced a smooth curve from Mianzhou southward: “And this happens to be Mianzhou’s autumn harvest period. The insects, smelling the grain, will swarm over in large numbers. They feed on the crops to store energy, lay eggs in the soil, and after resting enough, they glide forward with the changing currents. So the next wave to suffer are Liuzhou, Liuzhou, and Huizhou.”

A winding line of ink connected the affected prefectures, with Mianzhou prominently in the middle.

“Mianzhou is definitely affected. We cannot borrow grain from Mianzhou,” Shen Zheng stated firmly.

Wen Zhuo quietly watched Shen Zheng, his eyes brighter than the setting sun slanting into the study.

He had discerned clues from the abnormal behavior of Gong Zhiyuan and Xie Langyang, but he hadn’t expected that, without even going to Mianzhou, just by using a map, identifying wind directions, and recognizing terrain, Shen Zheng could so accurately predict the locusts’ path.

Shen Zheng felt a gaze fixed on his face, unwavering, as if studying a stone carving. He leaned forward and asked in a low voice, “Wanshan, do you trust me?”

He knew this explanation was laced with water; locust monitoring required scientific equipment, and his oral analysis was certainly inaccurate.

But his goal wasn’t accuracy—it was persuasion.

Wen Zhuo’s eyelashes fluttered slightly, seemingly reacting to the address “Wanshan,” but he didn’t comment on the intimate overstep. Instead, his gaze first moved away from Shen Zheng’s face, falling onto the map spread on the desk, then suddenly returned to look at him again.

“I trust you.”

Shen Zheng felt his heart swing back and forth with the movement of Wen Zhuo’s gaze, only settling when he spoke.

He chuckled inwardly. The kitten had tacitly agreed; from now on, “Wanshan” could be used often.

Even the slow-witted Huang Ting couldn’t help but worry: “Since Mianzhou has no grain, isn’t this bound to fail?”

Even the slow-witted Mo Shu analyzed: “Unless we can find out where the Prince of Xian is sourcing the grain. Bu Zhangyi, since he dared to take on this task in court, must have prepared in advance.”

Huang Ting was disheartened: “How could we possibly know such confidential information?”

Shen Zheng, holding the time-travel card, thought to himself, I know.

Wen Zhuo, holding the rebirth card, also thought, I know.

Wen Zhuo picked up his tea, taking a sip to hide his expression, and said in an unhurried tone, “I guess it’s Liangzhou.”

He naturally couldn’t admit that he had been through this before, but thankfully, he could fabricate a basket of excuses in the blink of an eye.

“Not only is the grain in Liangzhou, but the batch of ‘unqualified’ tributes he embezzled should also be there.” Wen Zhuo glanced at Shen Zheng, saw him listening intently, and continued, “The Liangzhou Military Commissioner is a confidant of the Prince of Xian, holding military power, which makes operations convenient and secure. Since Director Huang said the tributes never entered the capital, and he wants to use them to buy favor, then Liangzhou, being closest to the capital, is the best place to store the goods.”

Huang Ting lowered his head in thought for a moment, then suddenly slapped his thigh: “Makes sense!”

Shen Zheng chuckled: “There’s a deeper layer. The Prince of Xian can borrow money from his own shops in the name of the court, buy grain from Liangzhou for disaster relief. After the disaster is over, the Ministry of Revenue can repay the silver to the shops, thus cleaning all the wealth he’s amassed over the years.”

What a smooth money-laundering trick for the ancients.

Huang Ting suddenly understood and stomped his foot repeatedly: “When I discussed this with the former Crown Prince, why didn’t I think of Liangzhou!”

He was filled with regret, and then realized the gap between them.

The things they had pondered for so long were seen through in just a few words in this study.

Perhaps the Crown Prince was truly unfit for the heir position. In both wisdom and bearing, he fell far short of the Fifth Prince.

“Now that we know, it’s still hard to act.” Mo Shu touched the map, his brow deeply furrowed. “Mianzhou has been silent, showing the local government’s strong influence. We’ll have to go to Liangzhou for grain, which is farther away, and we need to give His Majesty a solid reason. If we explain it like Your Highness did, His Majesty might not fully believe it and will send people to verify. He might even suspect that Academy Head Wen doesn’t want to part with his wealth and deliberately changed the grain source. The time wasted going back and forth will cost countless more lives.”

Wen Zhuo supported himself on the chair, pondered for a moment, and a glint of insight flashed in his eyes: “I have a way.”

Mo Shu, who was rolling up the map, stopped halfway and turned his face.

Wen Zhuo said, “I need to borrow some men from General Jun.”

Mo Shu nodded: “Alright, after he returns to the residence, I’ll pass it on.”

Wen Zhuo carefully explained his plan. By the time he finished, the sky had darkened. He stood up, straightened his sleeves, and prepared to leave through the secret passage.

Huang Ting said, “Your Highness, let’s go too. It’s getting late.”

Shen Zheng: “You go ahead.”

Huang Ting was puzzled: “My residence is near the imperial city, so it’s on the way.”

“I’ll see Teacher off,” Shen Zheng said very naturally.

Huang Ting was taken aback. He recalled how the former Crown Prince always took his teachers for granted, lacked respect, and sometimes had an arrogant temper, like a spoiled child.

In contrast, Shen Zheng’s respect for his teachers and proper conduct really impressed him.

Huang Ting immediately straightened his expression, cupped his hands, and added a layer of respect to his eyes.

“Your Highness is thoughtful. I was too hasty in my thinking.”

Shen Zheng, without blushing or a racing heart, calmly accepted the compliment: “It’s only right.”

Wen Zhuo stood nearby, feeling he should say, “No need to see me off,” but for some reason, the words stuck in his throat.

Shen Zheng followed him down the secret passage.

The stone door clicked shut, and the surroundings fell silent, leaving only the flickering candle and the crackling of the flame.

Shen Zheng tapped the stone wall beside him and suddenly said with emotion, “Teacher, this secret passage is really nice. You can’t hear anything from outside. It’s like an extended basement.”

Wen Zhuo caught the fondness in his tone and couldn’t help but show a hint of concern: “Is Your Highness reminded of the old tomb passage?”

“…” Shen Zheng really didn’t know what expression to make.

Wen Zhuo didn’t hear a response and immediately stopped in his tracks, turning around.

But Shen Zheng was focusing on formulating a reply and couldn’t stop in time. The two of them collided solidly.

Fortunately, Shen Zheng reacted quickly and grabbed Wen Zhuo’s waist.

His hand touched soft, warm, and resilient flesh, close to the curve of his body. Shen Zheng forced himself to let go, calming his mind.

“Why did you stop suddenly… Did I hurt you?”

“It’s fine.” Wen Zhuo’s face showed no emotion as he turned and continued walking.

Inspired by this, Wen Zhuo suddenly grew playful. Every few steps, he deliberately slowed down for a moment, making Shen Zheng bump lightly into his back.

After a few times, how could Shen Zheng not understand?

He found Wen Zhuo’s mischievousness hidden beneath his steady exterior utterly delightful—a rare, hidden gem. But he also found it amusing, as if he were being trained to react like some kind of…

Shen Zheng finally let out a low laugh, his voice gently echoing in the passage: “If Teacher finds this fun, I won’t return to the palace today. I’ll stay and play with Teacher in the passage to my heart’s content.”

Wen Zhuo’s ears instantly heated up from the candlelight. He pretended not to hear, walking away swiftly.