Yangzhou’s cuisine was renowned for its refinement and precision. Yet despite a full table of dishes, Zhou Weizhao, Song Chuyi and the others couldn’t eat much. Chen Ping ate nothing at all—he’d been busy investigating the list of wealthy households. Only now had he returned to report to Song Chuyi, his stomach growling audibly with hunger.
Song Chuyi glanced at him. His face immediately flushed red. He looked at Song Chuyi and lowered his head, then quickly raised it again, focusing single-mindedly on the serious matter at hand: “Before we even entered the city, they gave us a show of force, making it clear they don’t want to hand over any silver. Not wanting to give silver would be one thing, but this—they want our lives.” As he spoke of business, he forgot his hunger and sighed while looking at Song Chuyi: “Your Ladyship, this is different from when we were in Jinling. There, we had Censor Shi who prepared in advance and played the villain, plus the garrison eunuch helping us. Now here in Yangzhou, we truly have nothing. After the incident, the taxes Yangzhou submitted were half of previous years—clearly showing they have nothing to fear. Even if we died here in Yangzhou, they’d have ways to twist white into black.”
Ziyun was frightened by his words. She stepped out of the room and saw Qing Tao organizing the stack of papers for Song Chuyi, so she asked her: “Did you figure anything out?”
Qing Tao sorted through the name lists one by one and shook her head at Ziyun: “I didn’t figure out anything, but don’t worry. Before Miss came, she seemed to have already discussed things with His Highness. Neither of them was the least bit surprised by this show of force. We shouldn’t be afraid either.”
Inside, Song Chuyi had a smile at the corners of her mouth. She listened with one ear as the two maids finished talking, then looked at Chen Ping: “Yes, Yangzhou’s wealthy households collude with officials and have nothing to fear. Didn’t the information you gathered for me mention that the prefect is none other than Liang Shoufu’s son-in-law? You can imagine how arrogant these people are.”
Chen Ping nodded. Just as he was about to discuss what to do, he heard Song Chuyi say: “But no matter how difficult to handle, this matter must be handled. The people in Xibei are waiting for this silver and grain to save their lives.”
Chen Ping fell silent. After a pause, he asked Song Chuyi: “But we probably don’t have the advantage…” This meant he’d thought of the worst-case scenario—if things truly came to a complete break with this group in Yangzhou, it would be very difficult to escape unscathed.
Just after saying they didn’t currently have the advantage, someone came from outside to deliver a visiting card, sent by the prefect’s wife inviting her to their home to appreciate flowers.
The corner of Chen Ping’s mouth twitched as if wanting to smile, but he quickly suppressed it and looked at Song Chuyi: “See, here it comes. In my opinion, you still shouldn’t go.”
It was the same point again—Yangzhou was different from Jinling. How could Jinling be as bold as Yangzhou, where before they’d even broached the subject, the ceremonial procession had already seen death and bloodshed? This flower appreciation banquet the prefect’s wife was hosting—who knew if it would be a Hongmen Feast?
“How can I not go?” Song Chuyi adjusted the tassels tied at her waist. Her beautiful eyes held a trace of smile, sparkling so brightly that people didn’t dare look directly at them. She said to Chen Ping: “You needn’t worry, but I do need to trouble you with one matter. I’ve obtained the list of wealthy households. Those people from before… arrest a few of them.”
Chen Ping didn’t know what Song Chuyi planned to do by arresting these estate managers. Truth be told, right now it didn’t matter whether you had evidence or not—fists were what counted. If this group in Yangzhou truly united to make things difficult and obstruct Song Chuyi and Zhou Weizhao, it would be remarkably easy.
But since Song Chuyi had already given the order, he could only do as she said. He left to find Fu Youde and Chen Dezhong.
—
Chen Dezhong and Fu Youde remembered the people extremely thoroughly. When Chen Ping asked, they explained everything clearly to him. After he left, they exchanged glances with each other.
The Yangzhou prefect’s wife’s banquet invitation—surely she harbored ill intentions? Finally Chen Dezhong spoke first: “Should we go remind Her Ladyship? What if they won’t release her?”
This wasn’t alarmist talk. After all, before even entering the city they’d dared to have estate managers disguise themselves as refugees to cause trouble—doing other things wouldn’t be so unusual.
Zhou Weizhao had just returned from the front and saw Song Chuyi leaning against the couch listening to Qing Tao read the invitation cards. He first went to change his clothes, then came out and sat beside her: “I heard you received an invitation from the prefect’s wife?”
Before coming, they’d already been mentally prepared, knowing Yangzhou would probably be much harder to deal with than Jinling. With Imperial Guard Chen Ping there, they’d investigated Yangzhou’s network of relationships in advance. That’s why they’d thought to send the ceremonial procession into the city first to observe the situation. Who knew that before they could use the procession to test those people’s attitude, the procession would have an incident first.
So in the end, there was no need to probe—one look and you knew the resolve of these Yangzhou people. They had no silver to give, and if pressed hard enough, they’d probably really dare to draw knives. In any case, now that the world was falling into chaos, they didn’t care whether you lived or died.
And since they’d given a show of force upon entry to the city but hadn’t achieved the expected effect, this flower appreciation banquet was probably the next step in applying pressure. He laughed coldly, casting a playful glance, then tossed the invitation card aside: “Decline it for now. They harbor ill intentions.”
Song Chuyi nodded and straightened his lapels for him. Seeing the faint dark circles under his eyes and his visibly sunken cheeks, she felt some heartache and touched his face, then said softly: “That they harbor ill intentions is obvious, but declining wouldn’t be good either.” She paused: “Knowing in advance they want to cause trouble, we can at least be somewhat prepared. If we decline this, we won’t know what earth-shaking, humiliating methods they’ll come up with. As Commissioner Chen said, they might truly dare to kill us. Better not to decline—go along with their wishes and see what they want to do. Then we can think of countermeasures in advance and meet their moves, isn’t that right?”
Zhou Weizhao could tell from her manner that she’d already thought of a strategy. He encircled her and lazily leaned back, feeling his neck aching and uncomfortable. He freed one hand to press the back of his neck: “Hold you hostage to make me obedient, to make me retreat in the face of difficulty. That’s the purpose of this so-called flower appreciation gathering. These people are now too lazy to even bother with schemes and plots against us—they can’t wait to show us real knives at first meeting to frighten us. To make us flee Yangzhou in disgrace.”
Song Chuyi knew he was right. The two had thought of the same thing, so she smiled and nodded: “Yes, isn’t that exactly their plan? Hold me hostage, then have you voluntarily say you want to leave, and everyone can avoid completely tearing off the veneer—that’s all. They certainly aren’t afraid. I’ve only been here two days, but I can already see—they’ve always been arrogant, relying on unified interests. Now with the court facing great calamity, they’re even more lawless.”