Chapter 22#

Flattering the Horse (1)#

Wen Renyue quickly recovered, somewhat apologetic: “I haven’t had a chance to look at myself yet… Today I cleaned the house, bought groceries, and went to the academy to see if there was any work I could do to earn money. It’s really…”

“Stop rambling,” Le Wuya tugged at his sleeve. “Come in now and look.”

The two studied the mirror for a long time. Wen Renyue tilted his head. “…My face hasn’t changed at all.”

Le Wuya: “Why—”

Le Wuya: “Alright, asking you is useless.”

Thinking back now, the soul-swapping was indeed strange.

The first oddity was that after rotting in the mud for four years, he woke up one day full of vitality.

The second oddity was that after Wen Renyue’s soul left his body, though weak, with Le Wuya’s help, he managed to survive.

The third oddity: where did Ming Xiangzhao’s soul go?

According to their order of passing the buck, when Ming Xiangzhao died, his soul should have left his body too, staring back at them wide-eyed.

But Ming Xiangzhao vanished just like that, a breeze passing through, and he was gone.

Comparatively, Le Wuya’s soul was indeed exceptionally strong.

Was this the reason he could influence Wen Renyue’s appearance?

Now it seemed the little phoenix was clearly the most informed. Otherwise, why would he fixate so relentlessly on a petty county magistrate like Wen Renyue?

But given how crazy he was, if Le Wuya went to him with questions, he’d probably get crazier.

Better to figure things out slowly on his own.

Le Wuya measured the height difference between himself and the current Wen Renyue. He barely reached the other’s chin. Dissatisfied, he said, “I wish I could grow a bit taller.”

Wen Renyue couldn’t help but laugh.

This guy was serious one moment and childish the next. It was hard to know what to do with him.

He reached out and ruffled Le Wuya’s hair to make it fluffier. “See? Doesn’t that make you a bit taller?”

Le Wuya stared at him.

This man was pure and kind. He knew Le Wuya as “Brother Gu,” knew he was capable.

But he didn’t know Le Wuya was Le Wuya.

If he ever found out, how would he see him then?

Wen Renyue, noticing how intently Le Wuya was looking at him, realized his behavior was too forward. He hid his hands behind his back, gently rubbing his fingers together. “Brother Gu, what is it?”

Le Wuya thought, It’ll just be another disappointment. So what?

Better to use this time to pave the way for him rather than mope.

If they ever fell out and he was told to leave, at least he wouldn’t have wasted the hospitality he’d received.

Today, after another “heart-to-heart” with Assistant County Magistrate Sun, he’d figured out why Wen Renyue was stuck in a dead-end post in Nanting County.

“Guess what?” Le Wuya adjusted his mindset, putting on a lively smile again. He casually tied his messy hair into a high ponytail, brimming with enthusiasm. “Turns out your position was supposed to be part of a deal!”

It turned out that when the previous Nanting county magistrate was preparing to leave, Sun had set his sights on moving up the ladder.

Nanting County wasn’t exactly a hardship post. Sun buttered up the higher-ups and fawned over Squire Chen until he finally found a way in: an exchange of positions.

Another county magistrate, surnamed Han, had toiled for ten years in a remote, impoverished county. By sheer luck, he managed a brilliant assignment and climbed up the ranks, securing a transfer to a better location. His future looked bright.

The two sides, through the Ministry of Personnel’s matchmaking, struck a deal at once.

This Magistrate Han was to come to Nanting County, and Sun would be promoted to become the magistrate of that impoverished little county. After a few years of grinding, Magistrate Han, once he’d made a name for himself, would help Sun find a good path forward.

Everything was settled. But before the transfer orders could be issued, fate smiled on Magistrate Han again. The magistrate of a neighboring, wealthy county died suddenly of a strangulated hernia, leaving a vacancy.

With a better opportunity, Magistrate Han scrambled to pull strings and hastily transferred there.

Now Sun was stuck in an awkward spot.

He could still go to that impoverished county, but the original deal was a mutual exchange of benefits between Sun and Han.

With Han gleefully gone, Sun was left hanging, humiliated.

Without someone to trade benefits with, if Sun went to that small county, it would be like stepping into a mire. Who would pull him out?

And Squire Chen, not being an official, could only do so much.

So Sun had no choice but to give up.

Rather than suffer in that unfamiliar mountain backwater, it was better to stay in Nanting, where his roots ran deep, and be a carefree little emperor.

But this left the Ministry of Personnel in a bind.

Though Sun hadn’t moved after all this fuss, everyone knew his efforts had come to nothing—he must be holding a grudge.

Whether a county magistrate was angry or not was none of the Ministry’s business. However, Sun had been entrenched in Nanting for so long, his influence deep. After this fiasco, the vacant magistrate seat in Nanting had become a thankless, cursed post for whoever got it.

Most candidates waiting for positions had backers. Even a few from humble backgrounds had passed exams years ago, with former classmates now in office.

After careful deliberation, the Ministry of Personnel waved their pen and sent Wen Renyue—young, well-connected, and green—to Nanting, to be Sun’s punching bag.

…

Learning the real reason for his six months of bad luck, Wen Renyue was astonished. “Is the Ministry of Personnel really this corrupt?”

Le Wuya was surprised. “I thought you’d curse out Sun first.”

Wen Renyue frowned slightly. “It wasn’t him who issued the transfer order.”

Le Wuya narrowed his eyes, hitting the nail on the head. “Bureaucratic rot is nothing new. It won’t be fixed in a day, nor can you figure it out by burying your head in books. You need to see more, know more, before you can clean up the mess. Don’t dwell on grand plans. Start small, one step at a time.”

Wen Renyue nodded meekly. “Yes, Shouyue takes your advice to heart.”

Le Wuya paused, remembering that Scholar Ming styled himself Shouyue. He smiled. “You adapt quickly.”

Wen Renyue scratched the side of his face sheepishly. “Speaking of which, I do have one concern… I know my temperament isn’t great. I’m not as sharp and decisive as Scholar Ming. I’m afraid I’ll do a poor job playing him.”

Le Wuya waved it off, easing his mind with a single sentence. “Don’t worry. Just be yourself. If you came out of this ordeal with the same personality as before, that would be the real miracle.”

Wen Renyue accepted the advice gladly.

Le Wuya felt quite pleased, as if he were back in his past life teaching Little Six.

Everything he said was taken to heart—what a good, worry-free kid.

“By the way, you said you were looking for work?” Le Wuya patted his shoulder. “Come help me organize my books when you have time. Take whatever money your household needs. But one rule—take it from your own allowance, Wen Ren Mingke’s personal funds. I’m not giving you a cent from the county treasury; I’ve got plans for it.”

Wen Renyue agreed with a smile.

After seeing Wen Renyue off at midnight, Le Wuya sat at his desk.

He first opened the gilt-edged letter.

Zhijie’s handwriting was as elegant and refined as ever.

By the time a prince reached a certain age, he would establish his own household and marry.

Le Wuya wondered which noble lady he had wed.

Zhijie had a gentle, considerate nature. Whoever married him would be truly fortunate.

Lost in thought, he opened Xiang Zhishi’s decree.

Unexpectedly, another gilt-edged letter fluttered to the floor. It also bore the address in the capital.

Le Wuya picked up the second letter, thinking with a bias—Little Zhishi was narrow-minded and mean. Any girl who married him would be eight lifetimes unlucky.

Unless she was just as scheming, how could they ever be a harmonious couple?

Le Wuya placed the two letters side by side, lost in thought.

Since Crown Prince Xiang Zhiming’s death, the position of heir had been vacant for a long time.

Second Prince Xiang Zhizheng loved hunting and hated writing. As a youth, he often crashed Le Wuya’s lessons, always bristling at Le Wuya’s archery skills until, after dozens of matches, he finally conceded defeat.

After that, whenever there was a hunt, he’d drag Le Wuya along—until Le Wuya’s health deteriorated so much that he had to reluctantly stop.

After the crown prince’s death, he was the eldest, but he’d wasted years and had no aptitude for study. He could only sigh in despair at the throne.

Third Prince died young. Fourth Prince Xiang Zhifei was healthy but soft-natured, fond of poetry and painting, and preferred the mountains and rivers—he wasn’t much favored by the emperor.

When Le Wuya died, Fifth Prince Xiang Zhiyun was already on assignment, showing the demeanor of a future ruler.

Sixth and Seventh—Zhijie and Zhishi—were born after the emperor ascended the throne.

Le Wuya wondered how Fifth Prince was doing now…

Then he burst out laughing at the thought.

What did it have to do with him?

Now he was far from the capital, a lowly county magistrate. No one could boss him around anymore!

He flopped onto the bed happily, rolled over, then called out, “Bring hot water! I’m taking a bath!”

After a thorough soak that washed away all his fatigue, Le Wuya finally lay in bed and slept soundly.

The next morning, a rider came galloping with a message: the prefect summoned him for a meeting.

Le Wuya packed lightly, took no attendants, and chose a docile, plump little yellow horse. He ambled toward the prefectural office.

In his past life, Le Wuya loved tall, spirited horses. Ever since he’d taken over Wen Renyue’s body, he’d already indulged that craving. Now he just wanted comfort.

He wanted to swing by and check on the miners, but near the City God Temple where the miners were housed, he spotted Wen Renyue.

Wen Renyue had set up a small stall: one stool, one table, and an old blue bed sheet with two big characters written on it: “Write Letters.”

Afraid people wouldn’t recognize the words, he’d also drawn an envelope next to it.

As Le Wuya passed by, a lean, dark miner was at the stall asking about prices.

Le Wuya sauntered over. “What are you up to?”

Wen Renyue, seeing him from afar, stood up and cupped his hands in greeting. “Your Honor, writing letters.”

Le Wuya clasped his hands behind his back, eyeing him. Didn’t I tell you yesterday to come work at the county office?

Wen Renyue said mildly, “Your Honor told me to observe the people’s livelihoods more and not just bury myself in paperwork. So I thought I’d find a trade to practice. Thanks to Your Honor’s benevolence, part of the cash confiscated from the Chen household yesterday was distributed to the miners. They’re homesick, so I thought I’d write some letters home to earn a little money and also learn about the people’s situation. Three birds with one stone.”

No wonder he came from a merchant family—he knew how to spot a business opportunity.

Le Wuya patted his shoulder encouragingly, chatted briefly with the grateful miner, then mounted his horse and rode off to the meeting.

Yizhou governed twenty-three counties. By custom, there was a monthly meeting.

Whenever a county had a major event, the prefect would also summon the magistrate individually.

This time, the Nanting rebellion case coincided with the monthly meeting. All twenty-three magistrates would gather.

Nanting was a small county. Wen Renyue was junior and the youngest. In previous meetings, he always sat at the lowest seat.

But this time, his seat was moved to the front.

Le Wuya, unflinching and unafraid, plopped down in his spot.

Magistrates arrived one by one.

By the end of the day, everyone had heard about Le Wuya’s overnight trial of the rebellion case.

The better-informed even knew that some big shot had apparently visited Nanting.

They shed their former indifference toward the young man, stepping forward to greet him politely.

Le Wuya had a good memory. Before leaving, he’d studied the prefect’s past directives to the counties and memorized the names of all twenty-three current magistrates. And having arrived the earliest, he’d chatted with the tea attendant and learned the seating order.

So when each person came to socialize, he could address them by name exactly.

Coupled with his knack for saying what suited each person—talking like a human to humans, like a ghost to ghosts—he could gauge their temperaments in a flash and act accordingly.

This skill of reading people and conversing was as natural as breathing to Le Wuya.

Talking with him was like a spring breeze, like drinking fine wine.

Everyone who spoke with him came away impressed, even doubting their own judgment—how had they never noticed this young magistrate before?

Hiding his talent well, possessing great ability. Though his background was admittedly poor, a pearl covered in dust or a flaw in fine jade doesn’t diminish its true worth.

Hadn’t this rebellion case made him shine?

Le Wuya busied himself with social niceties, but his peripheral vision caught a wiry, tall, old magistrate.

He was about fifty, with a long, narrow face and sharp, harsh brows and eyes. Even at rest, he looked perpetually furious.

Le Wuya remembered his name: Qi Wuhu, styled Yingchen, magistrate of Jinyuan County.

He was the only one who hadn’t come to greet Le Wuya. Instead, he sat alone, silently seething.

As the crowd gradually gathered, Prefect Lü came strolling in from the back hall.

Prefect Lü’s full name was Lü Deyao, and he had a somewhat effeminate face.

This wasn’t a compliment.

Especially now that he was middle-aged and plump, with a softly rounded face and weary eyes, he looked like a nun in man’s clothing.

Whether it was his appearance influencing his behavior, his speech dragged out long, and he talked like a sheep bleating.

Lazily, he launched into a long, rambling speech—essentially saying times were tough, everyone was working hard, the prefecture knew their hardships, but the prefecture had hardships too.

Lord Lü talked until he was dry, then picked up his teacup and took a sip.

Le Wuya, sitting closest, caught the scent of fine maojian tea.

Different grades of maojian had different prices.

Based on Le Wuya’s extensive experience carousing in the capital in his past life, Lord Lü’s tea was top-tier—just one grade below tribute tea.

Le Wuya took a sip of his own tea, set it down without expression, and licked away the tea leaves stuck to his lips.

Local unbranded tea, probably stale old stock from some tea shop, crushed as if scooped from the bottom of a jar.

Lord Lü finished his verbose lecture at a leisurely pace, then finally turned to Le Wuya and bleated in praise, “Mingke, you’ve done well.”

Seeing the conversation turn to him, Le Wuya straightened his back and was about to reply when an irate voice cut through: “Lord Lü!”

He turned to see Qi Wuhu, brows furrowed, burst out: “Can you first resolve the plight of Jinyuan’s people before talking about anything else?!”