Chapter Fifteen: The Audit of the Ledgers Begins

The days passed one after another, and soon it was March twentieth—the day, ten days after Chen Gaowen’s warning, when the ledgers would be inspected.

Early in the morning, Zhu Cilang hurried to the public office. Before anyone else arrived, he took up a broom and swept the floor clean, emptied the trash, prepared hot water and tea leaves, then fetched the day's fresh paper and several worn abacuses from the office storeroom.

Once this was done, as Xie Yi—the clerk who, like every day, arrived early—entered the office, Zhu Cilang said nothing, simply buried his head in the accounts.

At first, some joked that the division’s colleagues had become much more diligent lately, but after a few days they realized it was due to Zhu Cilang’s efforts. The ones who had teased him now fell silent, sighing quietly whenever they saw him, and the days wore on, monotonous, tedious, and tense.

Today would be the last of those monotonous days.

The clerks had, by and large, finished preparing their ledgers in a rush, and when Chen Gaowen arrived, he was quite satisfied. Nodding, he finally allowed a rare smile to appear on his face.

But when he reached Zhu Cilang’s desk, that faint trace of a smile vanished without a trace.

The atmosphere in the room grew stifling again. Only after Chen Gaowen left did anyone dare speak. Watching Zhu Cilang still working furiously, his abacus clicking away, someone sighed, “What a pity, such a diligent fellow.”

Hearing this, Wang Rui felt a surge of annoyance and said coldly, “What’s there to pity about someone from the Big Headscarf faction? If he doesn’t understand the rules, he deserves to be made an example of. Today, I’ll bet another hundred taels that he’ll lose! Let’s see how he handles the beating tomorrow!”

Lin Guchong, amused by Zhu Cilang’s apparent misfortune, said, “You can only win ten taels at most. The stakes are so pitiful—why bother adding more?”

Wang Rui laughed. “Your information is outdated. I checked today—someone actually put up a hundred taels that Qin Xia won’t get flogged tomorrow. With that new bet, the stakes have soared. If someone’s handing me a hundred taels to win, why would I hold back? What’s that saying again—If Heaven offers and you don’t take... something about disaster?”

“If Heaven offers and you don’t take, you’ll bring misfortune upon yourself!” Lin Guchong was excited now, too. “Fine, I’ll go put another two hundred taels on it today!”

“Hah! Just thinking of Qin Xia getting twenty hard strokes makes me feel refreshed!” Wang Rui said viciously. The others shook their heads.

These native clerks from the capital had indeed been shown up by Zhu Cilang. If they didn’t deal with him, the capital’s clerks—already fading in the Ministry of Revenue—would only decline further.

Of course, the capital folk were hardly angels. Outside the Ministry, whether at the county office or in other bureaus, they were always arrogant. This time, they wanted to use Zhu Cilang to expose Chen Gaowen, but when trouble came, would they really stand up for him?

Xie Yi glanced at Zhu Cilang, puzzled. Zhu Cilang was clearly no mediocrity—so why, as the deadline approached, did he become more and more indifferent, like an old ox plodding through his calculations, showing not a ripple of emotion? And lately, Assistant Yu had been pushing him with unusual urgency. If Zhu Cilang were one of the civil official’s men, why would Yu be pressuring him?

March twenty-first, in front of the Yunnan Division of the Ministry of Revenue.

Two bailiffs from the office arrived early. Chen Gaowen, seeing this, snorted coldly. He knew it was the capital clerks’ doing, wanting to see Qin Xia flogged.

But Chen Gaowen didn’t care about such provocation. In the end, their aims aligned. He, too, had to check attendance and tally progress. If tasks weren’t done, those bailiffs would be punished as well.

By mid-morning, a crowd had gathered in front of the Yunnan Division.

A group of clerks, chattering in Zhejiang accents, exchanged greetings, each accountant beside them clutching stacks of ledgers—completed and ready for Chen Gaowen’s inspection.

In truth, the Ministry of Revenue was more like an accounting department than anything else. Though it was known as the equivalent of the Treasury in later times, it had no real decision-making power. Only the Minister’s personal authority could wring a little influence from the Emperor. Thus, bookkeeping was the Ministry’s chief task.

Nearly thirty clerks carried out their ledgers, but the most efficient and relaxed group was Xie Yi’s. They were Chen Gaowen’s top assistants, responsible for the crucial army granaries.

Guided by their chief clerks, the accountants laid the ledgers on the ground, then lined up in an easy manner. Having rushed to finish their tasks, they now enjoyed a rare moment of leisure.

Lin Guchong and Wang Rui also arranged their ledgers, but were clearly distracted—scanning the crowd for someone.

“Where’s that Qin Xia fellow?”

“I even had the office bailiffs called in early—he’d better not try to run, or we’ll have to trouble the Ministry of Justice.”

“Hah, if the arrest warrant goes out, wouldn’t that be even more satisfying?”

Amid their banter, Zhu Cilang quietly pushed a single-wheeled cart from the storeroom. The crowd parted, their eyes filled with sympathy. Lin Guchong and Wang Rui grinned openly.

But Zhu Cilang’s next move caught everyone off guard. He loaded his stacks of ledgers onto the cart and returned to the line.

Lin Guchong and Wang Rui exchanged glances, wanting to say something, but under Chen Gaowen’s sharp gaze, they dared not.

The inspection began.

“Xie Yi, how many ledgers from the Central Army’s camp have you checked?” Chen Gaowen asked, his questions precise.

Xie Yi, tall and slender with a scholarly beard and a hint of pride, replied, “Reporting to the Inspector: all ledgers for the Central Army are checked, one hundred and seventy-six volumes, bound and ready.”

Chen Gaowen nodded approvingly. “Kong Tian, how many ledgers from the East Anmen Granary?”

A short, shrewd-faced old clerk stepped forward. “Reporting to the Inspector: all checked, one hundred and forty-nine volumes, bound and ready.”

Chen Gaowen nodded again. “Yuan Qi, what about the Left Guard Granary?”

A plump, round-faced clerk squinted and replied with a pained expression, “Reporting to the Inspector: one hundred and fifty-three of one hundred and fifty-seven volumes for the West Anmen Granary are checked and bound. The others... are not yet complete.”

“Your group’s accountants will each receive eight strokes as punishment,” said Chen Gaowen, his face emotionless.