The traveling merchants had been confined in the courtyard for two days. The lack of food and tea was one thing, but what they found most unbearable was the absence of toilets and chamber pots. Each of them was about to burst, desperate to climb over the walls, only to find Fei Sheng already prepared. Guards stationed atop the walls drenched anyone who tried to escape with buckets of cold water, sending the courtyard into an uproar.
“Damn it! Are you crazy?! You scared us and now we’re peeing ourselves!”
Fei Sheng’s own backside ached from sitting too long. He rose, stretched a few steps, and said, “Urination? Well, at least it’s your own problem if it’s foul.”
The merchants clutched their pants, shivering with urgency. The man leading them had previously peered through a door crack, swallowing his pride, and pleaded, “Sir, everyone has natural urges! Isn’t this forcing confessions?”
Fei Sheng leaned toward the door and said, “What nonsense are you spouting? I haven’t touched a single finger of yours!”
The man bent over, clasping his legs together, and stammered, “Yes, yes, but we still need to use a restroom!”
Fei Sheng’s smile was all skin and no warmth. “I told you before: you may leave, but first, write down the names of the officials responsible for supply deliveries.”
The merchants weren’t locals of Zhongbo. After finishing their business, they had to return home, and they weren’t about to offend local authorities. They refused to comply, so Fei Sheng blocked the door. With no other choice, they eventually gave in, enduring their humiliation as the foul stench spread through the courtyard. By the end of two days, they had confessed everything.
Fei Sheng, pleased with himself, presented the list to Shen Zechuan. Shen Zechuan intended to use it to investigate whether any local officials were allied with the White Scorpions, as large shipments heading east would inevitably leave traces.
Yan Heru, now compliant and cross-legged, wore the expression of an obedient person on trial. He waited for a long moment, and when Shen Zechuan didn’t speak, he said, “My lord, interrogate me, then.”
Shen Zechuan placed the list before Yan Heru. “These names—familiar acquaintances of yours, I presume?”
“I’m just a merchant; I don’t get involved with government affairs,” Yan Heru tilted his head to scan the list. “Mostly drinking buddies.”
“You want to do business. Hezhou would be the easiest place for it, yet you established a small mutual market in Dunzhou and gathered merchants from various regions. That’s not insignificant,” Shen Zechuan said calmly, refreshed after a good night’s sleep, showing no impatience for detours.
Yan Heru blinked. “Even if I had motives, those are just minor tricks in business. You, my lord, have the true foresight. Huai Ci tea aside, mentioning it makes me envious. Dunzhou is your territory now; in the future, I’ll gladly work under you as a brother.”
“Better clarify before we make brotherhood vows,” Shen Zechuan said. “These local officials embezzled government goods, handing them to merchants for transport here, and you sold them to the Biansha tribes, converting them into silver. You were truly righteous, making state wealth with your group.”
“You’re clever,” Yan Heru admitted, clasping his hands behind his back as he explained. “Yes, that’s how it is. The Yan family prospered through tea. To find a way under the Xi family, we funneled silver through local officials, though it never felt enough. Those fat bureaucrats controlled local copper and iron mines, their positions allowed them to pocket tens of thousands of silver at a stretch—who wouldn’t be tempted? So, I simply cooperated with them in this business.”
Yan Heru spoke without any trace of fear. All his previous dealings would have warranted a death sentence if reported, yet he executed them skillfully.
“But I’m not the one supplying copper and iron to Amur,” Yan Heru showed a small fang as he smiled at Shen Zechuan. “The reason you’re interrogating me today is that you discovered these were small shipments, insufficient to equip the Scorpion forces.”
Shen Zechuan said nothing.
“Every account that passed through me is recorded clearly. By now, my lord, you surely know I’m speaking the truth,” Yan Heru continued, shifting his legs slightly. “At first, it was Xi Hongxuan who handled grain trade in Zhongbo.”
After Xi Hongxuan’s death, all Xi family shops fell under Shen Zechuan’s control. He had left Ge Qingqing in Juoxi untouched to keep an eye on Xi Dan. He knew the Xi family accounts intimately, and from the fourth year of Xiande onwards, grain trade in Zhongbo was managed by Xi Hongxuan; by the fifth year, it shifted directly to the Yan family. Yet Shen Zechuan found no trace of Xi Hongxuan trading copper and iron with the Biansha.
“Before or after the military defeat, Zhongbo was the only place from which Amur could move goods,” Yan Heru said. “After the fourth year of Xiande, Zhongbo lost its defenses, yet Amur didn’t invade again. My lord, the reason is clear, isn’t it?”
To facilitate shipments.
After the fourth year of Xiande, none of the provincial administrators dispatched by Qudu remained long; turnover was frequent. Initially, Shen Zechuan assumed this was due to banditry, but upon arriving in Zhongbo, he realized otherwise. At least in the fourth year, Le Jingzhe wasn’t yet a formidable force. Later, he understood that after Hai Liangyi became Chief Minister, he planned meticulously, even sending Jiang Qingshan to Qudu temporarily, all to change Zhongbo’s circumstances.
“I genuinely want to work with you, my lord,” Yan Heru said. “Let’s do this together.”
“Last year, Hezhou still supplied grain to Qudu,” Shen Zechuan replied calmly, “With your wealth and grain, why not side with Xue Xiuzhuo? He cooperates with Jiang Qingshan in Juoxi and would have had reason to leave you alone.”
Yan Heru’s smile faded. “I would have liked to, but that man only wants my head.”
“Xue Xiuzhuo is auditing your accounts?”
“Not only mine, but the Xi family’s as well,” Yan Heru said. “He’s ruthless, intolerant of any slack, utterly without sentiment.”
Yan Heru most wished to avoid men like Xue Xiuzhuo; the reason was simple: fear. During the Xiande years, when Xue Xiuzhuo was still serving as a censor, Yan Heru had tried bribery—but it failed. Not only that, he nearly exposed his shop to Xue Xiuzhuo.
Yan Heru’s method of building alliances was simple: commit misdeeds together and hold mutual leverage.
Shen Zechuan did not pursue the conversation.
Seeing this, Yan Heru quickly leaned forward. “So, we’re settled then? Let’s draw up regulations for dividing Huai Ci tea and Dunzhou trade in the future. I can even send grain to Libei.”
“Business is simple,” Shen Zechuan said, moving the tea cover. “As long as by October you provide the Libei cavalry with winter coats. Next spring, Hezhou must share responsibility for the granaries of Cha and Dun.”
“Next spring, can you establish yourself as king? You cannot. My grain in Hezhou will still be requisitioned by Qudu for the Qidong army,” Yan Heru calculated, “Qi Zhuyin commands the troops in Qidong, right next to Hezhou. I have no forces to block him. If the army doesn’t get grain on time, I’ll be punished first. Fine, but if it involves you, my lord, then Cizhou will be at risk too.”
Shen Zechuan understood the scheming in his mind and asked, “So your proposal is?”
“Let’s split the responsibility of granaries in Cha and Dun next spring between Hezhou and Cizhou, with me taking the larger share. Fair, right? As for grain for Qidong, I’ll buy it through the western waterways from Baima Prefecture, where I have old contacts. But opening checkpoints costs too much silver, so this winter, I need to make up the deficit. Why not waive the tariffs on merchants registered with the Yan family in your pawnshops, letting them trade their accumulated goods in the Libei market? I can buy coarse tea and sell it at Yongyi Port for a profit.”
Shen Zechuan had drunk his tea and, without another word, rose to leave.
“Hey,” Yan Heru followed, swaying, “that’s not fair! My lord, you’re stingy! Even if you take my profit, let me eat first.”
Shen Zechuan stepped outside, where Xiao Chiyie had just entered through the gate.
Yan Heru threw himself to the ground, pretending to be helpless. “No, Shen gege! You’re my elder brother! We can talk more later!”
Shen Zechuan turned back and glared at him. “The reason bandits thrive in Cha, Dun, Fan, and Deng Prefectures is thanks to you. Since the fifth year of Xiande, the Yan family has pocketed massive silver in Zhongbo. I haven’t shut down your shops just to give you face. Next spring, if anyone starves in Cha or Dun, I’ll hold you responsible.”
Yan Heru shuddered, curling into a ball like a small quail. He peeked through the curtain raised by Fei Sheng, catching sight of Xiao Chiyie’s boots. A sudden thought struck him. “I still have a treasure!”
Xiao Chiyie tapped his umbrella on the steps. “What treasure? Let Second Master see.”
Yan Heru immediately forced a smile and sweetened his tone. “Second Master? You like jade and pearls in Qudu, right? I just acquired a few new pieces this autumn. A sword for heroes, jewels for the second master—I’ve been meaning to present them to you!”
Xiao Chiyie, who had been itching to give Shen Zechuan a few more ear piercings, now became genuinely interested. He signaled Fei Sheng to lift the curtain further. “What goods?”
Knowing Xiao Chiyie and Shen Zechuan were close, Yan Heru flattered him. “Once I’m out, I’ll have them delivered to your residence for you to enjoy.”
Xiao Chiyie, delighted, said, “Considerate.”
Yan Heru nodded vigorously. “Second Master accompanied my lord on business for several days. I didn’t entertain him properly, and I feel terribly guilty.”
Xiao Chiyie’s broad shoulders made Yan Heru mutter under his breath at how imposing he was.
“What did you just call my lord?” Xiao Chiyie asked.
“Shen gege,” Yan Heru replied.
“Throw him out,” Xiao Chiyie’s tone turned cold. “Into the pool to sober him up, make him forget even his parents and brothers.”
Fei Sheng bent and hauled Yan Heru out.
Yan Heru had no idea Xiao Chiyie was displeased again. He kicked and flailed, shouting, “Remember, remember! Second Master, don’t throw me!” The outside wind was chilly, and he added, “I still have something to tell Second Master—”
By then, Fei Sheng had already dunked him into the water.
Five days later, Shen Zechuan departed for Cizhou, leaving Dantai Hu to guard Dunzhou. The letter arrived at Bian Prefecture and made its way into the camp.
Qi Zhuyin emerged from the tent, noticing Qi Wei dismounting and approaching. “Where’s the letter from?”
Qi Wei presented it. “From Zhongbo, sealed with a private seal.”
“Seems Shen Zechuan is doing well in Zhongbo,” Qi Zhuyin said, opening the letter. “He even managed to survive and deliver this here.”
Although Qi Wei hadn’t read the letter himself, he understood its contents. As Qi Zhuyin read, he commented, “The Cizhou garrison, established less than half a year ago, defeating Biansha cavalry in Dunzhou, is no small feat.”
“This is thanks to Xiao Er,” Qi Zhuyin noted, glancing at the gloomy sky. “The longer the Libei King keeps him behind, the more fiercely he’ll charge forward when at the front.”
Qi Wei added, “After the new year, Qudu should urge you to move north and subdue Fan Prefecture’s Wing Prince.”
Qi Zhuyin didn’t reply. As she put on her cloak, she suddenly asked, “How’s my father?”
Qi Wei, following Qi Zhuyin, said, “As per your instructions, five attendants rotate in caring for him. Palace women aren’t allowed near. They complain and constantly run to your mother to file complaints.”
Qi Zhuyin, about to mount her horse, paused. “Didn’t Hua San handle them?”
Qi Wei scratched his head. “They were raised in the manner of a princess, not by our methods. Speaking to the palace women gently works best.”
“Then she must have a good temper,” Qi Zhuyin muttered, recalling the women in the back yard. Her father had suffered a stroke, making him seem near death. The women constantly fussed over the inheritance, even coveting his golden toilet.”
Qi Wei replied, “They fear you.”
Qi Zhuyin, frustrated, said, “Didn’t I feed them?”
Qi Wei sheepishly said, “You cut their makeup and cosmetics allowance while monitoring accounts.”
Qi Zhuyin had nothing to add. That was a rotten business. Over the years, she had spent her private funds to supplement the Qidong garrison. Other prefectures relied on military farms to ease pressure. During peaceful years, granaries were ample, but not so in Bian Prefecture. Six months ago, Lu Guangbai depleted his wealth there, and Qi Zhuyin spent her dowry as well. Six months ago, the military grain in Bian Prefecture was poor; she borrowed money from merchants to cover it, but soon spent it on Qi’s grand wedding to marry Hua Xiangyi. Their funds were truly exhausted.
The palace women’s monthly expenses were staggering, with cosmetics alone costing tens of thousands of taels. Qi Zhuyin’s decision to deduct this money provoked a hornet’s nest; the women cried in the backyard and threatened to report to Qi Shiyu.
Qi Wei, understanding Qi Zhuyin’s predicament, suggested, “Perhaps consult with the madam? About her dowry…”
Qi Zhuyin glanced at him sharply. Qi Wei, realizing his misstep, immediately knelt.
Qi Zhuyin ignored him, mounted her horse, and said, “Recall the Red Tassel unit. Say it was my order. If anyone dares lay a hand on Hua San, Red Tassel need not be polite—bind them and bring them to me. She was married far away to Qidong. She isn’t here to make up deficits for me, nor to be a scapegoat for the palace women. The front bears Qi Shiyu’s name. I raced across eight hundred li to bring back the Qidong madam. Bullying her is bullying my father; bullying my father is indirectly bullying me. Got it?”