Chapter Nineteen: Confrontation with the Minister of Revenue

As Zhu Cilang pressed question after question, the light in Fu Shuxun’s eyes deepened, his gaze fixed intently on Zhu Cilang. The imposing air of the Minister of Revenue was nearly eclipsed, until at last he merely asked, “You wield alarming words to sway hearts—your eloquence is indeed worthy of a master of persuasion. But who are you? For what purpose have you come, and what abilities or schemes do you claim to possess that you would offer to contend with me?”

Even as his words fell, Fu Shuxun continued, “Do not attempt any fine-sounding justifications about relieving my difficulties. The world bustles for profit; all its clamor is for gain. I must know where your interests lie—what profit you seek in this.”

Zhu Cilang smiled, patting the ledgers stacked atop his wheelbarrow. After a moment’s reflection, he replied, “There are fat rats in the granary; the stores are plentiful.”

He then recounted, unhurriedly, the tale of farmers unearthing field mice and discovering their hoarded grain.

“The old policies of the dynasty have rendered scholars ignorant of practical affairs, exalting the examination system and discarding all other paths, barring clerks from advancement. This may have had its benefits, but it has also bred a crisis of administrative paralysis. In all practical matters, the government cannot function without clerks. Of every ten parts of revenue, only three find their way to the Treasury; seven parts remain with the clerks, who then divide them again—three parts to the local gentry, three to the officials.”

“I know the Grand Minister of Agriculture is diligent and self-sacrificing. But the fate of Li Shiwen should be a warning. In the Ministry of Revenue, only results matter—the process by which you achieve them is of no consequence. The funds for Songshan’s recovery, for border defense, for training the new army and reorganizing the capital garrison—all require a constant flow of revenue. The Ministry’s pressures are no less than at Songshan. Especially now, in March, when stores run low, it is many times harder to raise military provisions. Even if you petition His Majesty for a million taels, how much will actually enter the accounts? Will you even see a hundred thousand?”

“Fat rats in the granary; the stores are plentiful…” Fu Shuxun savored the phrase, drawing from it countless meanings. From Zhu Cilang’s calm and unhurried manner, he sensed a powerful confidence and a masterful grasp of the situation.

Gradually, the image of a discerning, peerlessly eloquent scholar took shape in his mind.

“What a pity he’s merely a clerk…” Fu Shuxun’s appreciation for talent stirred. Softening his voice, he asked, “Are these ledgers your token of allegiance?”

Zhu Cilang shook his head slowly. “They are merely my knock on your door.”

The meaning was clear: this was not an offering in exchange for patronage.

“The ledgers are confidential. How did you acquire them?” A refusal, veiled but unmistakable, yet Fu Shuxun’s curiosity only deepened.

Zhu Cilang smiled and recounted, one by one, the events since he first entered the Ministry.

Even after forty years navigating the corridors of power, Fu Shuxun was stunned by this audacious rogue’s exploits.

Since when had those cunning, venomous clerks become so easy to outwit?

No—it was not that the clerks were weak, but that Zhu Cilang was extraordinary: ability, temperament, strategy, and vision—all were peerless.

“What a shame, to see such talent wasted as a mere clerk,” Fu Shuxun sighed. But then excitement overtook him.

After all, had he not long struggled with the Ministry’s financial woes?

As Zhu Cilang said, to seize these fat rats and reclaim even a fraction of the embezzled funds would go a long way toward easing immediate needs. Moreover, to bring these slippery and elusive rats to heel would greatly strengthen his control over the Ministry.

Of course, all depended on whether Zhu Cilang was truly trustworthy—if, in the coming battle with the clerks, he could prevail.

Should he advance or withdraw?

Choose Zhu Cilang and support his campaign against the Ministry’s clerks? Or cast him aside, trading his head for the clerks’ peace?

Wait…

Suddenly Fu Shuxun’s brow creased as he eyed Zhu Cilang, displeasure flickering in his gaze. “You have left out two questions.”

“The world bustles for profit; all its clamor is for gain. My purpose is, naturally, for profit. As to my identity, it is most respectable. Otherwise, how could a mere scholar stoop to serve among the clerks?”

With that, Zhu Cilang drew a jade token from his belt and held it close for Fu Shuxun to see.

Fu Shuxun’s sharp eyes instantly recognized the mark of the Eastern Palace: within a ring of five-clawed, entwined dragons, the character for “Lang” was plain as day.

“The heir apparent!” No wonder Zhu Cilang had waited until now to answer this question. At that thought, Fu Shuxun felt a sudden chill.

Had it been anyone else who dared take such liberties, he would have been furious at being manipulated and swiftly sought revenge. But this was not just anyone—this was the Crown Prince.

If it was the Crown Prince’s will, then the matter’s weight and its implications were entirely different. Since it was the Eastern Palace, this was not a trap, but an opportunity—a choice for both sides.

The Prince had chosen Fu Shuxun as an ally; it remained to be seen whether Fu Shuxun would accept.

“Once you leave this room, there will be no third soul in this world who knows my true identity. I am but Qin Xia, accounting officer of the Yunnan Bureau in the Ministry of Revenue,” Zhu Cilang said with a gentle smile. “Grand Minister, having only just arrived in the capital, perhaps you have not yet heard of His Highness’s recent actions. But you must know, in these times, nothing is more vital than a strong army. For His Majesty, military affairs take precedence above all, and above all in military affairs is the provision of funds.”

“My words today represent no one’s intention to coerce you. I ask only that you consider the advantages and dangers carefully. If you advance, all the thieves will be against you, and public anger will be hard to appease, but you may reform the Ministry and restore its finances. If you retreat, I will vanish without a trace, leaving the ledgers behind; you may use them to curry favor with the clerks, suffering no harm. In the end, advance or retreat—it is yours to decide.”

When Zhu Cilang finished, his gaze was warm, sincerity overflowing from his every word.

Hearing this, Fu Shuxun closed his eyes for a long moment. Only after ten heartbeats did he speak: “When I first took office in the Ministry, I wished to test how deep the rot ran. So I took a minor measure—selecting a relatively unimportant set of ledgers for review. But to my surprise…”

He broke off, saying no more. Aside from the Yunnan Bureau, which was meant to serve as a warning to the newcomer, every other department in the Ministry had simply copied their ledgers verbatim, declaring them verified without so much as a trace of audit—merely affixing the seal and announcing that all was in order.

Such a result—only a fool would not sense something amiss.

Yet, faced with such a situation, Fu Shuxun was powerless. The times were dire, and men were needed. To move against the clerks now would paralyze the Ministry.

As Grand Minister of Agriculture, head of one of the six most vital ministries, Fu Shuxun cherished his dignity and authority. How could a high official of the second rank admit his helplessness before a band of clerks? What face would he have left?

Today, Zhu Cilang’s arrival offered Fu Shuxun another path.