Chapter 300

The Ministry of Revenue, nearly driven to the brink by the imperial edict, was so busy their feet seemed to tangle behind their heads. The Ministry of War sent people over, not to urge or demand, but simply to sit and wait—they would only leave once the Ministry of Revenue had finished loading the provisions onto the carts. The officials of the Ministry of Revenue gnashed their teeth in frustration, yet they could do nothing. If it weren’t for Wang Xiujin’s diligence—collecting grain and making uniforms—they wouldn’t appear so inept; after all, what harm could a few days’ delay do?

The officials of the Ministry of Revenue dared only to complain in their hearts, never aloud; now was not the time to stir up trouble. Some had previously considered sneaking in old grain, but now they didn’t even dare think about it. Besides the Ministry of War, several censors from the Imperial Inspectorate were present—some counted with notebooks, others checked and inspected quality—to ensure there was nothing stale mixed in with the provisions. Alongside the grain, medicinal herbs were to be sent; the inspectors specially invited several apothecary assistants to verify their quality. The officials, sweating profusely, were relieved that, after the royal merchants had caused a commotion, they hadn’t dared to commit fraud. They wiped their brows until the convoy and inspectors had left, finally able to breathe easy, their hearts released, nearly collapsing to the floor, murmuring “thank heavens.”

A pictorial was rushed out overnight and posted on the public notice board. Curious citizens gathered around, and upon seeing it, stamped their feet in outrage, cursing the villainy of Kou Country—a small, insignificant nation daring to covet their grand empire; if not seeking death, then they deserved to be annihilated.

The pictorial succinctly described Kou Country’s many injustices against Great Liang, including how, a few years ago, they nearly seized a city by subterfuge, causing local people to suffer and struggle. It also detailed how Kou Country would raid coastal towns, fleeing after robbing and assaulting, even forcing young women to hang themselves. The people, gnashing their teeth in hatred, some ran to the magistrate’s office, declaring their intent to kill a few of the scoundrels in Kou Country themselves.

Some court officials found a target for their criticism and penned lengthy essays against the pictorial. Those aware of the truth sneered at these officials’ self-destructive bravado and, meanwhile, wrote in praise of the pictorial’s courage to do what others dared not. In the court, two factions argued fiercely. The Fourth Prince, not yet departed, stood in the hall, listening to the quarrel, and dug at his ear: “Father, since some say we shouldn’t stir up war over minor matters, why not let the people of Kou Country target these gentlemen, rob them, and assault their daughters? Consider it neighborly relations.”

His words silenced many, though some stubbornly argued that the common people shouldn’t know such things. The Fourth Prince looked at those who searched for excuses as if they were dead men. What they needed now was to enlighten the people, not keep them ignorant. Why did these men repeatedly try to prevent it? It was nothing but selfishness. Such men, who cared only for themselves and not the court, were of no use. Those under his gaze felt a chill, finally realizing no one responded to their words, and the Emperor, though his expression was unclear, made their hearts instinctively race. All knelt in terror. How could they forget that the Empress Dowager had just passed away? The Emperor, deeply attached, would naturally vent his anger on the envoys who fought during the palace banquet.

Sweat poured endlessly; these men wished to strike their heads down and faint, hoping to escape the moment, then retire to their hometowns to farm.

After court, one official summed up a few simple truths: before the Emperor tires of the royal merchants, never go against them; if you want a smooth career, do your duties well. Don’t imagine there’s always a way to cheat, to profit from loopholes—expect to lose your head! Even if you delay for a moment, it doesn’t mean the Emperor is unaware. Whether he acts depends on whether you have done anything beneficial for Great Liang and its people.

After this reflection, a small group scoffed, agreeing only with the first point: before the Emperor dislikes the royal merchants, don’t cross them, lest you ruin yourself before harming them. As for honest work—ha...

But most, like the official who summarized, found it especially true, particularly those from the Ministry of Revenue. They had truly experienced what it meant to have their heads tied to their belts; though fortune is sought in danger, one must keep their body whole, not drag their entire family and clan into reckless risks—otherwise, come the day of punishment and execution, how could they face their ancestors in the underworld?

The officials’ thoughts twisted and turned, but what they finally decided mattered little to Wang Xiujin. When the army set out, in addition to the citizens who came upon hearing the news, there were the families of soldiers. Wang Xiujin, with Yachang, did not push forward; everything that needed saying and doing had been done. Now he only waited for Li Linshan to return victorious and safe. As for Kou Country—whether it vanished from history or was occupied—that was not his to decide.

Li Linshan, riding a tall horse outside the crowd, immediately spotted Wang Xiujin and their son. Li Linshan did not dismount, but kept his gaze fixed on them until their figures disappeared, then spurred his horse onward.

“Was Father just looking at us?” Yachang looked up at his little father, marveling that at such a distance, Father could see them so clearly.

“Yes.” Wang Xiujin nodded—perhaps farsighted? Could see better from afar? “Come, you still haven’t finished today’s lessons.” Wang Xiujin turned and took his son’s hand, leaving with the dispersing crowd.

After sending his son to his father, Wang Xiujin went to the grain shop. The manager hurried forward to report, but Wang Xiujin waved him off; there was nothing urgent, he was just checking in.

While he stayed at the grain shop, several managers and stewards soon arrived to discuss various matters. Wang Xiujin sat for the whole day, not even moving at noon, until Sister Liu brought lunch. The snack shop was thriving more than ever; every morning before dawn, servants from large households rushed out to secure a spot for their masters—those who succeeded were rewarded, those who failed weren’t punished but faced sour looks. It was said that one servant received a gold ingot as reward for securing a place.

Wang Xiujin was very satisfied with Sister Liu’s cooking. After sending off the managers, he wandered over to the snack shop, where the staff—all old hands who knew him—hurried to greet him. He waved them back to their work, saying he was just passing through. Sister Liu finished up and left; lately, Madam’s appetite was poor, and Sister Liu was worried the household cook wouldn’t suit her taste, so she hurried home.

Hearing from the staff that his mother was unwell, Wang Xiujin rushed to the Wang residence. He had been busy lately with Li Linshan’s campaign, rarely visiting. When he saw his father, he’d ask after his mother, but perhaps seeing him occupied, his father hadn’t mentioned her health. Upon reaching the door, Wang Xiujin dashed inside. The gatekeeper wiped his sweat, thinking he was doomed—he would surely be scolded today. Madam had instructed that if the young master returned, he was to be told she had gone to see the young lady. But the young master didn’t even give them a chance to stop him!

Wang Xiujin ran straight to the back courtyard, stopping outside his mother’s room. “Mother, I heard you’re unwell. May I come in now?”

Lady Wang, now unable to pretend she wasn’t home, cursed the gatekeeper’s lack of wit but responded, letting her younger son enter. She had missed him these days, knowing he was busy with important matters and not wanting to summon him. Recently, she’d had little appetite and didn’t want to worry him further, so she hadn’t called him home.

With her permission, Wang Xiujin went in, seeing his mother reclining on a soft couch, her color fairly good—he breathed a sigh of relief. “Mother, did you call the doctor?”

“I did. The doctor said this year’s climate affected my appetite—it should improve in a few days.” Lady Wang sat up and beckoned her son. “Look, you’ve gotten thinner.”

“Mother, I’ve gained weight! Pants I made last year and never wore, I tried them on recently and couldn’t pull them up here.” Wang Xiujin gestured. “Mother knows me—I eat no matter how big the trouble.”

“You rascal.” Lady Wang poked his head.

Seeing his mother truly well, Wang Xiujin felt at ease, sitting with her a while to chat about family affairs and ask after his elder sister. After having some pastries with his mother, he left. As he walked out, thinking of how much pastry she’d eaten, he resolved to tell Sister Liu—the pastries were too plentiful, leaving no room for proper meals and spoiling her appetite. From now on, they should be refined, not abundant.

The general’s mansion was lively; children long separated gathered, married or not, chatting and joking. Second Master Li and Father discussed border matters in the study, occasionally teasing Yachang.

Lately, First Master Li had been dispirited, reflecting on whether he was still not close enough to his son—when his son left home, he preferred his uncle’s chatter over talking to him. Manager Mi, seeing his mood, didn’t advise him; in his view, the man had no sense. Hadn't he noticed Linshan was pulled away by the second master, forced to listen, and even if Linshan didn’t want to deal with him, it was his own doing? Instead of bonding with his son, he believed all sorts of rumors, went to battle with his son, making him suffer near death. Later, regret was useless—the wounds were healed, the child grown, and a few words couldn’t erase the past, nor would his son forget or bear no grudges.

These days, whenever Wang Xiujin returned home, his father would call him over to ask if there was news from Li Linshan. Wang Xiujin looked at his little father, who rolled his eyes. Wang Xiujin, sensing the mood, replied honestly: no news had arrived. He thought perhaps his father’s heart was simply growing old.