Chapter Thirty-Eight: One More Thing

[Thanks to reader 985526680 for your reward~ I’m truly moved, it’s already Friday, and finally this week there’s been a reward.]

Authority is one thing, but the tax office, with its centuries of inheritance, is riddled with tangled relationships beyond counting. For the moment, these people dare not defy Zhu Cilang due to his forceful methods. Yet, as time passes, all manner of half-hearted compliance and covert resistance would gradually surface. After all, no matter how formidable the chief of the tax office might be, a year later he will depart. Once Zhu Cilang leaves, neither Chang Zhilang, Wu Sen, nor Yan Wei will be able to maintain the same order as during his tenure.

More importantly, Zhu Cilang knows well that he cannot remain here at all times. Nor is he content with a single windfall before moving on. Likewise, he would never tolerate a situation where his departure brings an end to all progress.

Thus, a sweeping purge and reorganization is only natural, and none can sway Zhu Cilang’s resolve.

At this thought, the three men’s expressions grew even more solemn.

With their tasks assigned, Zhu Cilang’s expression relaxed considerably. “Well then, it’s already late today. Everyone, go home and rest well. Under my leadership, I do not wish for pointless overtime that only sours the spirit.”

At his lighthearted words, the previously stern and chilly atmosphere of the inner hall instantly became much more relaxed and cheerful.

Chang Zhilang and Wu Sen, both knowing this was truly Zhu Cilang’s style, exchanged a few witty remarks before rising to take their leave.

Yan Wei, however, lingered a moment, falling behind the two men.

After Chang Zhilang and Wu Sen had disappeared into the night, Yan Wei finally halted his steps, turned, and bowed deeply to Zhu Cilang. “Sir… I still have one matter I wish to report.”

Zhu Cilang narrowed his eyes, saying nothing, but fixed Yan Wei with a penetrating gaze.

Under this scrutiny, Yan Wei’s head immediately bowed to the floor, memories of Chu Lushan and Liu Pei’s fates flooding his mind.

Originally, if Liu Yongquan had truly succeeded in capturing Zhu Cilang and turning the feigned rebellion into a real one, the court would not have held him much to blame. After all, reform always threatens entrenched interests, and inevitably evokes fierce opposition. Violate their interests, and endless troubles will arise, ultimately harming the innocent and unraveling the greater good.

At this moment, the court might not care for collateral damage, but if the overall situation is ruined—if the court loses face and the tax office loses its silver—then disaster truly strikes, and no forgiveness will be offered. Thus, for the sake of imperial dignity and the tax revenues, even if Zhu Cilang’s heart is wholly for the country and the people, he would still face punishment to quiet the tumult.

But who could have foreseen that over two hundred men, pitted against a seemingly frail scholar-official, would end up in utter defeat, without even the chance to fight back?

With the false rebellion quashed, the balance of power had shifted completely. Liu Yongquan now bore the charge of defying imperial orders. Such a colossal crime—let alone Liu Pei, the chief suspect who had already been imprisoned as the main culprit—even Chu Lushan, implicated by association, had not only lost his new post but was stripped of office and awaiting punishment.

Considering the fate of these two, and realizing he might now have to plead on their behalf, all the pride and excitement Yan Wei had felt evaporated, leaving only an endless dread.

At last, trembling and lost in anxious thoughts about his own fate, Yan Wei heard Zhu Cilang speak.

Zhu Cilang’s voice was calm: “You are a veteran of the tax office. I kept you on not because you once contradicted me. In this office, one must not only be capable, but know how to conduct oneself. Of course, remember your place, but do your work without fear. Now, what do you wish to say?”

At these words, Yan Wei let out a deep breath, instantly understanding Zhu Cilang’s meaning.

He had often wondered why Zhu Cilang had retained him—what purpose did he serve, what merit did he possess?

It was certainly not because he had once stood up to Zhu Cilang, thus forging some fateful bond.

Primarily, it was because Yan Wei was capable. Secondly, as a local functionary, he was invaluable for dealing with the native powers of the area. Zhu Cilang needed to draw some factions to his side and suppress others, thus dividing his enemies and strengthening his own position. Yan Wei was the key figure in this strategy. Finally, as a native, there were matters that only he could handle with ease. For instance, when the local Linqing gentry sought a connection to the tax office, Yan Wei was the ideal intermediary, able at the right moment to serve as a lubricant, smoothing over tense relations.

In such a role, Yan Wei needed always to be clear about his allegiance—ultimately, he was Zhu Cilang’s man. Only by holding fast to this position could he work effectively, without fearing that his diligence would bring him trouble.

Understanding this, Yan Wei found himself reflecting anew on his impending appointment as acting director of the Revenue Office.

Casting aside his idle musings, Yan Wei finally spoke in a low voice: “Sir, the renowned scholar Master Dongshan of Linqing requests an audience.”

A bustling, prosperous city like Linqing was naturally a place of rich culture and flourishing scholarship, home to many distinguished figures.

The Master Dongshan whom Yan Wei mentioned was named Yang Chuan, styled Wensi. Yet most of Linqing’s officials and gentry addressed him simply as Master Dongshan.

He was a native son, descended from a prominent family. Unlike those scholars who buried themselves in study from the start, seeking only to make their name in the imperial court, Master Dongshan preferred the company of friends from all walks of life and cultivated relationships with high officials and nobles. With his status as a degree-holder and his deft social skills, he had made a name for himself everywhere. By now, anyone in Linqing could tell you about Master Dongshan; even common laborers and peddlers knew of him, and some even believed his influence rivaled that of the prefect himself.

After all, no matter how capable a prefect may be, his term lasts but three years before he rides off to another post.

No matter how powerful the head of the tax office, after a year of gathering his fill, he too rides home with pockets lined.

“Is there truly no one in Linqing whom he fears?” Zhu Cilang asked, interest piqued by Yan Wei’s introduction.

At this, Yan Wei paused in thought before carefully replying, “There are, in fact. For example, the Qis, a family of officials in Linqing for generations, and… General Liu Zeqing, commander of the Shandong Garrison.”

Local magnates may be evenly matched, with strength depending on family numbers and resources. But no household can rival the might of the army—even if the general in question, Liu Zeqing, is notorious for incompetence in command and skilled only at embezzling military funds.

With this, Zhu Cilang finally gained a clear understanding of Master Dongshan.

“A man of considerable influence—a broker of power, moving deftly between factions, with a nose for opportunity.”