Clerks and officials could not be equated. They occupied the very bottom rung of the hierarchy, held no rank, and were not considered proper officers. Yet they were literate and skilled with calculations, often far more proficient in local criminal law than the officials in the main hall. This made it possible for them to oppress, deceive, or even extort the local populace without leaving evidence. Furthermore, constrained by their locales, collusion and mutual protection were far from rare.
When Luo Mu had been sent to Chazhou, many matters had stalled, partly because of the interference of Chazhou’s clerks. Local administration not only affected officials’ reputations but could also become an obstacle to implementing policies.
After the court’s military defeats, an inspector had been dispatched to Zhongbo, but Dunzhou had already lost control over the other five prefectures. As a result, over the years, corruption in Zhongbo’s administration had become severe.
Gao Zhongxiong had already been taken to see a doctor, while Zhou Gui paced the study. The advisors sat in a side room, composing themselves, waiting for Shen Zechuan to speak. This matter concerned the examination of clerks, and whether the current yamen constables would be replaced was also at issue.
Zhou Gui spoke gravely: “We were still discussing this yesterday, and today a problem arises. That Old Xu is a constable. He has already pocketed over a dozen taels of silver through the clerk examination. With so many subordinates in the yamen, if others are scheming as well, how many of the examined clerks will actually be usable?”
Yao Wenyu sipped his tea silently, covering the cup without speaking.
Anyone with eyes could see that this inevitably involved Zhou Gui’s own advisors. Old Xu, a mere constable, would never have been able to collect such wealth through the examination alone without someone feeding him information from behind.
Yao Wenyu, an advisor to Shen Zechuan, demanding strict enforcement now risked appearing to target Zhou Gui’s circle. Although he had taken a seat at Shen Zechuan’s lower end in recent deliberations, as a newcomer he lacked seniority. The reputation of “Puyu Yuan Zhuo” was lofty; from afar, others treated him like a sage, but once proximity brought him down, he became a living target. Internal attacks would be minor, but if this created friction between Shen Zechuan and Zhou Gui, it could spell disaster for Cizhou.
“Every injustice has its culprit,” Shen Zechuan said, balancing his folding fan, seated calmly, revealing no emotion. “Whoever did it will be handled according to regulations. The clerk examinations are important; we cannot let shadows and fear harm diligent gentlemen.”
The advisors in the side room dared not speak, though some privately exhaled in relief. Shen Zechuan, operating in Cizhou, still relied on Zhou Gui’s influence, so moderation was to be expected. If administration was corrupt, it could be addressed, but now was not the time. Harsh action could uncover half the yamen, vacating all clerk positions—how would work proceed then?
Zhou Gui, however, would not yield: “Tongzhi, precisely because the examination is important, it must be investigated! We cannot let people ruin the yamen’s conduct. In the future, if others imitate, the ordinary people will suffer.”
“Investigate, of course,” Shen Zechuan said as he poured tea. “Follow the regulations. Old Xu has already been detained. If the magistrate feels uneasy, trusted personnel can be assigned to observe and copy the proceedings. With the Jin Yi Wei presiding, results will be known tonight. Rumors cannot be trusted, but clear evidence cannot be ignored. Whoever breaks yamen rules will bear the consequences. The new criminal code was just posted; this is an opportunity. The magistrate will hold court publicly in Cizhou, and murky waters must be filtered clean. But once the case is concluded, we will not act on rumor alone; innocent parties will not suffer.”
Zhou Gui added, “This matter must serve as a warning.”
Shen Zechuan replied, “Naturally. Light cases result in dismissal and removal from records; severe cases in exile to wasteland. If public anger is high, execution in court may also satisfy the people.”
A sudden “clang” came from the side room, and the advisors gasped in alarm.
Zhou Gui hurriedly asked, “What happened?”
“They’ve fainted, sir!” someone answered.
They had assumed Shen Zechuan intended only to handle Old Xu, leaving them a face-saving margin. They never expected he would use them as a warning. With the Jin Yi Wei presiding, Old Xu, a simple village elder, could not withstand it. Shen Zechuan’s claim of sparing the innocent meant no one connected to Old Xu’s case would escape. The advisors grew increasingly anxious, and when Shen Zechuan spoke the words “execution in court,” several fainted on the spot.
The study was in chaos, while Gao Zhongxiong writhed in pain under the doctor’s care. After the doctor left, a maid helped him change into clean clothes. In Qu Du, he had been meticulous about health; now, starving though he was, he ate cautiously.
After the meal, the maid led him to the courtyard. He dared not look around, aware that Shen Zechuan now resided in Cizhou, leaving him uneasy. Having advised Han Jin on capturing Xiao Chiye, his journey to Cizhou was a desperate gamble.
Entering the courtyard, he saw the scentwood along the corridor had fully faded, white petals scattered, untouched—clearly left intentionally by the host. Moss-covered stones lined the pond and bridge, resembling a freshly laid, soothing mat.
Gao Zhongxiong climbed the steps cautiously, nearly slipping, catching himself in embarrassment, bowing repeatedly to giggling maids, sweat dripping from his head.
Under the eaves, Ding Tao awaited him, lifting the curtain and ushering him inside. Gao Zhongxiong did not know Ding Tao’s position, so he dared not offend, holding his robe as he stepped in, noticing the room had no threshold.
The hall was spacious and bright, sparsely furnished. In Qu Du, he had heard Shen Zechuan and Xi Hongxuan favored luxury, carrying ivory fans; he guessed the house might belong to Zhou Gui.
Sitting upright, Gao Zhongxiong barely touched the edge of the chair, eyes alert to courtyard activity. Soon, the sound of a wheeled cart came. Ding Tao went to meet it, calling, “Young master.”
The curtain lifted. Gao Zhongxiong stood immediately, only to see a tall, rugged guard pushing a four-wheeled cart carrying a young man in blue with a cloak, not Shen Zechuan or Zhou Gui.
Gao Zhongxiong, observing etiquette, prepared to kneel. Seeing the young man’s face, he recoiled, eyes wide, shouting, “Yao… Yuan Zhuo!”
Shen Zechuan frowned at the exclamation, removing his cloak and going directly to the main seat.
Qiao Tianya pushed Yao Wenyu forward; the maids served tea. Yao Wenyu held his cup, expression calm: “Long time no see. I did not expect Shenwei would reach Cizhou as well.”
Gao Zhongxiong, drenched in cold sweat, kept his gaze lowered, addressing Shen Zechuan hurriedly: “Tongzhi… sir…”
Shen Zechuan noticed his odd demeanor and said, “No need for formality. Sit.”
He dared not.
“Since Shenwei already knows Tongzhi,” Yao Wenyu said, shifting tone to comfort him, “there is no need for me to speak further. I am alive.”
Gao Zhongxiong still could not raise his head, only murmuring assent.
Shen Zechuan asked, “Yuan Zhuo, why say that?”
Yao Wenyu answered succinctly: “I met Shenwei in Dancheng once. He was frightened due to complications from poison.”
But Gao Zhongxiong’s nervous expression showed it was more than a simple encounter. After Yuan Zhuo had left Qu Du for Dancheng, under the care of Pan Yi and Princess Zhaoyue, the poison he carried had clearly been acquired there—a story he had never told anyone.
Yet Gao Zhongxiong knew.
“When I left Dancheng in haste, I did not know how the defense and princess fared,” Yao Wenyu asked.
Gao Zhongxiong gradually relaxed, answering smoothly but still avoiding direct eye contact: “All… is well…”
Shen Zechuan discerned something from their exchange.
The maids withdrew; Ding Tao played with the iron horse under the eaves, its clatter like a raging wind. Qiao Tianya shooed him away; behind the bead curtain, quiet returned.
Hearing the account, Yao Wenyu neither showed joy nor displeasure. Setting down his cup, breaking the silence, he told Shen Zechuan: “When I arrived in Dancheng, the princess oversaw my care, but as a woman, she could not handle everything. The defense assigned Pan Yuan, her illegitimate younger brother, who was idle and fond of gambling. He relied on Pan Yi and his wife to repay debts. Pan Yi assigned him to look after me, hoping he might emulate virtue. Pan Yuan had cared for his father devotedly in youth, so he was filial. Initially, under the princess’s orders, he acted conscientiously, overseeing doctors and attendants, ensuring timely medicine. But over time, he grew impatient, seeking excuses to leave and gamble.”
“Pan Lin used a prisoner’s corpse to mislead others, yet Xue Xiuzhuo remained suspicious. The princess departed in haste, and inevitably, there were spies among the entourage,” Yao Wenyu continued. “Pan Yuan later fled debts, hiding and afraid to alert his family, often complaining to me. I had no funds to help.”
Gao Zhongxiong nodded: “Pan Yuan borrowed money from me then, claiming desperation. Even selling his six-room estate could not cover his gambling debts. I urged him to inform the defense promptly, to prevent trouble, but he refused.”
Yao Wenyu remained silent.
Gao Zhongxiong added: “Less than half a month later, Pan Yuan invited me to drink, saying all debts were settled with help from a noble. I feared deception, inquired about this patron, but he only said it was a Longyou merchant from Qu Du acting on his behalf.”
Half a month later, Yao Wenyu’s condition worsened instead of improving. Princess Zhaoyue consulted all household doctors to no avail. At that time, Pan Lin faced setbacks in Qu Du, and even Pan Yi was impeached, related to the Dancheng Pan family land. Pan Xiangjie feared for his family and wrote to Pan Yi to return Yao Wenyu to Qu Du. Pan Yi refused. Pan Xiangjie became furious, fell ill, bedridden. The princess suspected something in Yao Wenyu’s condition and secretly summoned an external doctor.
Yao Wenyu did not elaborate, only saying: “The princess feared Qu Du would use the land examination to seize me. She initially intended to have me recover at her dowry estate. But the medicine was faulty. She no longer trusted the Pan household and arranged funds to secretly send me to Jin City, where my late teacher’s friends reside.”
Yet misfortune struck. Those escorting him, seeing his grave illness and broken legs, forgot the princess’s orders, fleeing at night with the funds and cart.
That night, Yao Wenyu was left in the wilderness, accompanied only by a donkey and a cat. Though he had slept on the earth during wanderings, the sensation now was utterly different. For the first time in his twenty-four years, he realized he was a worthless being—without reputation, he was nothing. The words “Puyu Yuan Zhuo” burned into his bones as a mark of shame.
In the wild, Yao Wenyu cried aloud.
For his teacher. And for himself.
In Dancheng, he had refused to see anyone, lying all day in a dark bed, pained in his legs, but more broken in spirit. He had to face his incapacity; all former charm and grace were gone like fleeting clouds. Sleep brought no relief.
He was utterly shattered.
Yet he still had to survive.