Wei Huaigu, after being imprisoned, underwent interrogation, and Yang Cheng, the Administrator of Juexi, was also apprehended by the Jinyiwei and brought to the imperial prison. This had become one of the major cases of the first year of Tianchen, capturing the attention of the entire court, both civil and military officials. Shen Zechuan moved swiftly, tracing the testimony Yang provided and discovering that Wei Huaigu had been reselling military grain since the fourth year of Xiande.
Leveraging his position as Minister of Revenue, Wei Huaigu would, during each grain inspection, purchase grain from Yang Cheng and resell it at inflated prices to Xi Hongxuan. Xi then distributed it through waterways and overland routes to the six prefectures of Zhongbo and to Xuhai, generating enormous profits, while the burden of taxation fell on the farmland of thirteen cities in Juexi, shouldered by the common people.
“After doing this for so long, why is it only now that your conscience pricks you, prompting you to report Wei Huaigu through official dispatch?” Shen Zechuan questioned, examining Yang Cheng’s statement.
Having spent several days in the imperial prison, Yang Cheng lowered his head. “This time it’s different. The grain is filled with mold. Unlike before, sending it north to Li Bei would poison the soldiers at the border. I feared that the heir of Li Bei might really come to harm.”
No one else was at the table. Xiao Chiye, seated in the shadows, interjected coldly: “Are you so certain that this grain would actually reach the heir’s hands?”
Yang Cheng shifted uneasily, lips pale. “I was afraid. I sought wealth, but never wished to take life.”
“Do not fear,” Shen Zechuan said, glancing at Xiao Chiye and softening his tone toward Yang Cheng. “Although this is the imperial prison, it is under the emperor’s direct supervision. Speak freely—whatever you say here, it will be heard.”
The two men were stark contrasts. Yang Cheng, exhausted from the all-night interrogation, seemed dazed, mumbling, “I don’t know… I don’t—”
“Don’t know what?” Shen Zechuan asked gently.
“I don’t know if the heir of Li Bei will truly come to harm…” Yang Cheng choked back tears. “I don’t know… I feared that the Northern Cavalry would be defeated, letting the Bian Sha cavalry invade again.”
Xiao Chiye leaned slightly forward, his figure like a predatory beast, shadowing Yang Cheng’s face. His voice was sharp: “You knew this grain could lead to the Northern Cavalry’s defeat, yet you still had it loaded onto the carts. You deserve death.”
Yang Cheng flinched under Xiao Chiye’s gaze, choking out through his sobs, “My lord… I confess… I… I deserve to die…”
“You will not die,” Shen Zechuan said, his face calm, his eyes tender yet full of mercy. “The principal culprit is Wei Huaigu. He abused his position to coerce you; you had no choice. I understand your predicament, and so does my lord. Yang Cheng, you entered officialdom in the Yongyi era, served in Juexi for half a lifetime, and rose to be a Councillor. You were recognized by the Qu Capital as a capable court official. Now that Jiang Qing Shan has left Juexi for Zhongbo, the position of Administrator of Juexi is vacant. By age and experience, you should be the top candidate. Look at yourself—you could have had a brilliant future, yet risked it all for a bit of money. It was not worth it.”
Yang Cheng slumped, sobbing quietly.
“I’ve heard you were born in Baima Prefecture to a poor family. Your father died when you were six, and your siblings were raised solely by your mother. She labored to put you all through school, half her life spent to see you attain office, and yet you committed such a grave mistake,” Shen Zechuan said, compassion evident in his voice. “In the future, she will be left alone, scorned for your actions. How could you be so cruel?”
Overcome, Yang Cheng broke into open sobs. A scholar by upbringing, he knew propriety and filial duty; he had served his mother faithfully. Covering his face, he cried, “I’ve committed a mistake worse than any swine or dog. I have no face to see her!”
“This case is not yet closed. Whether you will be executed remains to be decided,” Xiao Chiye said, tossing the testimony aside. “Since you still know shame, your conscience is not entirely lost. From now on, whatever I ask will not enter the record. If you answer truthfully, I will do everything to save your life so your mother may live in peace. But if you dare evade, I will have you beheaded at Dancheng Gate. You reported Wei Huaigu and ruined many livelihoods. You know what awaits those widows and orphans. Without my guarantee, you and your entire family would be in mortal danger.”
Yang Cheng wept for a long while. When he finally stopped, Shen Zechuan personally handed him a cup of hot tea. Trembling, he dabbed at his tears, repeatedly thanking them, holding the cup in both hands and sitting silently for a long time. “My lord’s protection is a rebirth to me. I dare not hope to reenter office; I only wish for exile. This case involves many matters, not explained in a moment. I will tell you everything slowly.”
“Since the first year of Xiande, the national treasury has been heavily depleted. The Ministry of Revenue’s accounts were a mess. Hua Siqian, as Grand Minister, together with Pan Rugui, approved numerous extravagant public projects, such as the Linlang Garden in Qin Prefecture, most of which were never meant to be completed. These projects simply passed through the Grand Secretariat for approval, allowing officials to siphon silver from the treasury. Everyone in the system knew this. Officials colluded with merchants; money flowed directly into their pockets.”
“In the fourth year of Xiande, Wei Huaigu dragged me into it. I speak honestly, my lord—I knew the money was not to be touched, but I had no choice. Local officials were summoned to the capital. The Pan and Hua factions alternated in demanding bribes. Those years, the path to promotion required offering silver. The gentry could maintain appearances, but impoverished officials like me were blocked. No money, no chance to enter the central administration; no money, no assignments.”
“That year, Juexi suffered a locust plague. The thirteen cities had no harvest. Jiang Qing Shan took full responsibility, safeguarding us and opening merchant warehouses to distribute relief grain to the people, preventing famine. Because of this, he became the target of Juexi’s wealthy merchants. Debtors came to his mansion; his mother, at her age, still had to weave cloth to repay them. But we all knew the debt he repaid was for the court. Yet one thing others did not know, and the Juexi administration knew best: the defeat at Zhongbo was too timely.”
“Why do I say this? The treasury was empty, Juexi hit by disaster. Li Bei and the border garrisons had to contend with the Bian Sha cavalry. Hezhou’s harvest also failed. From the start of the year, people were already starving. The Ministry of Revenue was pressed but had no means to relieve local populations; the treasury was already emptied. Hua Siqian had to account for each region, while the Grand Secretariat’s Hai Liangyi audited the books. Hua Siqian was caught in a dilemma, overwhelmed. The Hua family sold estates in Di City, which the Xi family acquired. We all knew Hua Siqian was trying to refill the treasury, cover up the matter. But such a massive shortfall could not be fixed by one man, so he asked others for accounts.”
“I don’t know if Hua Siqian recovered the funds, but at that crucial juncture, the Bian Sha cavalry suddenly attacked Chashi River. The Duanzhou garrison suffered terrible defeat; Shen Wei retreated, leading to Zhongbo’s repeated losses. The Northern Cavalry and Qidong garrison supported on two fronts, stopping the Bian Sha advance at Qudu, but the captured cities were slaughtered and left empty. Subsequent relief grain from Juexi was destined for Zhongbo’s six prefectures.”
Shen Zechuan abruptly rose, standing in the dim light, silent.
Xiao Chiye felt a chill as well. They had run countless hypotheses, never imagining Zhongbo’s defeat might have been intended to replenish the empty granaries behind, repaying Hua Siqian and officials trapped in treasury audits.
“That was over a hundred thousand people,” Shen Zechuan whispered, gripping the table. “That… that is the lives of forty thousand soldiers… Do you even understand what you’re saying?”
The words struck him off guard. For six years he had convinced himself these deaths were political casualties. These living, breathing people, their young lives, had existed like Ji Mu. Duanzhou was the first gate; they died so horribly. The songs echoing from the Chashi pit remained Shen Zechuan’s lifelong nightmare.
Zhongbo’s defeat claimed countless victims. Fallen soldiers went unburied; blood drowned the dreams of survivors.
Under this oppressive atmosphere, Yang Cheng buried his face. “This time, filling the grain… I was truly afraid. Zhongbo still had a chance to be saved, but Li Bei could only rely on Luoxia Pass. If the Bian Sha cavalry broke through Li Bei, I would be a sinner for all eternity!”
“The defeat at Zhongbo and the Bian Sha cavalry’s timely arrival were not coincidence. The Henshe division moving south was no accident—they received information,” Xiao Chiye said, his teeth clenched.
Thus, the encounter between Henshe and Xiao Jiming in the Hongyan East Mountains was also deliberate. From Qudu, Zhongbo, Li Bei, even Qidong, people were relaying messages for the twelve Bian Sha divisions. They nurtured the Bian Sha cavalry like a famished wolf; when needed, it was unleashed to leave no trace behind.
“I don’t know if anyone in the central administration is still doing this,” Yang Cheng said fearfully, “but this time was too close… the treasury now has reserves, the Ministry of Revenue and Grand Secretariat are auditing strictly. To let the Bian Sha cavalry enter would be treason. I cannot risk it… my private correspondence is monitored. I could only report to Qudu via official dispatch.”
“Since you intended to expose Wei Huaigu,” Shen Zechuan snapped at Yang Cheng, “why did you attach the Ministry of Revenue’s seal to the dispatch? Once it reaches Qudu, it will immediately fall into Wei Huaigu’s hands!”
Yang Cheng could not hold the teacup, trembling as it shattered on the floor. “No… no! I clearly attached the Ministry of Punishments’ seal!”
Shen Zechuan paused.
Yang Cheng, eyes wide with disbelief, said, “If this dispatch reached Wei Huaigu, I would surely die! I know Minister of Punishments Kong Qiu is bold, not of noble birth; he would never delay or conceal for Wei Huaigu. I checked three times before sending—I attached the Punishments seal!”
“They’ve fallen into a trap,” Xiao Chiye said, seizing Shen Zechuan’s arm, eyes fierce. “This time it wasn’t Wei Huaigu’s doing. Once Wei Huaigu receives the dispatch, he will know someone has read it. It is a silent coercion; he must confess!”