“If he truly seeks his own death and insists on tormenting himself into the coffin, the Cui family cannot be buried with him.” Song Chuyi decisively interrupted Zhou Weizhao’s words, looking at him firmly.
In her previous life, she had always felt that the Cui family’s downfall came somewhat inexplicably, that they had been framed. At that time, everyone’s attention had focused on Cui Yingshu. Cui Yingshu had been implicated in a corruption case, but thinking about it now, the truth was probably far more complex than appearances suggested. Otherwise, given Princess Duanhui’s status, she should have been able to handle this matter involving Cui Yingshu.
The greater possibility was that the Cui family had done something else that enraged Emperor Jianzhang to the point where he could no longer tolerate it. At the time, Song Chuyi couldn’t figure out what matter could make Emperor Jianzhang wish for the complete destruction of the Cui family—something even Princess Duanhui couldn’t quell his fury over. But now, being in the midst of it, she suddenly understood. No emperor liked others reaching into his own pocket to take things. And Cui Shaoying was clearly stealing silver from Emperor Jianzhang’s pocket—not only stealing silver but also coordinating from within and without, trying to completely strip Emperor Jianzhang’s clothes off and wear them himself. If Emperor Jianzhang didn’t exterminate his clan, it would hardly be enough to quell the fury in his heart.
Zhou Weizhao nodded slightly. Strictly speaking, the main branch was Song Chuyi’s true maternal family. She was determined to preserve the Cui family’s main branch and naturally didn’t want to drag them into this. However, he still calmly reminded her: “Though Cui Shaoying is currently the one in power in the Cui family and the one responsible for business, no one can guarantee that people from the other branches don’t know about it.”
After all, Cui Shaoying bore the Cui surname—this was the most troublesome matter. Song Chuyi felt her head ache even more. Pressing her hands to her temples and closing her eyes, she realized her eyes were also painfully sore.
Zhou Weizhao tapped the table and extracted a jade-colored, gourd-shaped small porcelain bottle from the pouch hanging at his waist, handing it to her: “Suck on this. You currently have cold qi that has penetrated internally, causing excessive lung fire. If you don’t properly recuperate, you’ll fall ill again sooner or later.”
Song Chuyi obediently poured out a brown pill and placed it in her mouth. Instantly she felt refreshed and clearheaded, her mind much clearer. She looked up at Zhou Weizhao and asked him: “If I can make Lai Chenglong keep quiet, can Your Highness keep the Cui family’s secret?”
She had thought of many methods, but even expelling Cui Shaoying from the clan wasn’t a solution. Removing him from the clan couldn’t change the fact that he had led Cui family members in the copper mine business. When the time came, Cui Shaoting and Cui Yingshu, these two officials serving at court, would certainly have to resign in disgrace. Once tainted by such matters, it was impossible to wash clean—the only option was to cover it up tightly.
This request was truly somewhat unreasonable. Zhou Weizhao stared at Song Chuyi for a long while, his brow showing some confusion. After a long time, he asked back: “Why do you always present me with demands that ordinary people would never agree to?”
Song Chuyi herself was also quite curious about this. What exactly was she relying on to dare act so unrestrained, believing Zhou Weizhao would settle everything for her? She thought about it with a worried expression, suddenly realizing that her dependence on Zhou Weizhao was truly too dangerous—under what circumstances would a person trust another person without any psychological barriers? Even when she and Shen Qingrang had been most intimate, she still had many secrets she dared not tell Shen Qingrang. But before Zhou Weizhao, she seemed to have no need to hide her thoughts at all, because Zhou Weizhao already knew what kind of person she was.
She stood there stunned, unable to answer. After a long while, she honestly shook her head: “I don’t know either. I just feel that Your Highness will always help me.”
Her answer was tantamount to no answer at all. Yet undeniably, Zhou Weizhao’s first reaction was also to figure out how to minimize the impact of this matter for her. He suddenly remembered Zhang Tianshi’s advice—the nonsense about how the woman one would willingly do anything for without seeking reward was the one one liked. If one followed what Zhang Tianshi said, wouldn’t Song Chuyi be the one he liked?
He had never liked anyone before, nor did he know whether the words of his master—who had married and had children—were reliable. For a moment he couldn’t help sighing faintly. He stood up and said to Song Chuyi: “It’s getting late. You’ve been out too long and will probably attract the Cui family’s attention. I’ll escort you back.”
The question he had asked seemed to require no clear answer from Song Chuyi at all, and Song Chuyi indeed had no way to give a clear answer. She relaxed somewhat, nodded, and stood up. Suddenly thinking of something, she stopped and asked him: “Does Your Highness have leads on quelling the Yangquan rebellion?”
In fact, they were nothing more than a rabble. What was truly thorny was instead the web of relationships woven by local officials who had accepted benefits and wished only to protect themselves. But even these weren’t particularly difficult matters. He had brought sufficient manpower for this trip and had Emperor Jianzhang’s full support.
“If those common people truly are willing to accept amnesty, matters will be much simpler.” Zhou Weizhao handed her cloak to her: “I read the letter you had Qing Zhuo give me. The proposal in it was quite interesting.”
Promising the common people that all who were willing to accept amnesty would be exempt from punishment, and that for three years, one-tenth of the mine’s profits would be distributed to them—this was no small enticement.
However, this proposal still needed to be carefully considered and obtain Emperor Jianzhang’s approval before it could be implemented.
Being able to help made Song Chuyi feel somewhat more at ease. She got into the carriage, leaned against the soft cushions, and carefully organized all the matters. Upon returning, she sought out Nanny Xu to inquire in detail about the second branch’s affairs.
Though Nanny Xu herself hadn’t been in Jinzhong these years, her family members all served in the Jinzhong Cui residence, and she had relatives serving in the East Residence. Moreover, after returning, she had specifically made efforts to socialize and inquire, so she knew quite a bit. Upon hearing the question, she told Song Chuyi everything she knew. Cui Shaoying was Second Old Madam’s biological son. Since taking over the position of clan leader, he had been leading the Cui clan members in the medicinal herbs and grain business, sometimes also trading horses. In just over ten years, he had already developed quite prosperously.
Even doing these legitimate businesses, the Cui family’s income wouldn’t be small. What’s more, they received half of Jinzhong’s annual tax revenue each year—more than enough for the Cui family to grow strong. Yet Cui Shaoying still insisted on becoming involved with copper mines, perhaps even audaciously reaching for Yangquan’s coal mines. Why was this person so obsessed? And did he know or not that once the matter was exposed, it would doom the entire Cui family?