The night was dark with fierce winds. Han Qian didn’t ride a horse but instead sat in a carriage, surrounded by Zhao Wuji and others as they slowly proceeded through the night. This allowed him to organize his thoughts along the way.
After going through considerable trouble to enter the city gate, they arrived at Lanting Lane at the end of the fifth watch.
Through the carriage window, Han Qian saw the distant sky faintly reddening. Jinling City was immersed in tranquil night, with no one else able to detect the killing intent hidden beneath the darkness.
At this moment, Zhao Wuji, riding ahead of the carriage, raised his hand to signal the driver to rein in the horses and stop.
Han Qian leaned forward to look ahead. They were still some distance from the entrance to Lanting Lane, and he could vaguely see several dark shadows resembling carriages stopped across the street.
Lin Zongjing drew his waist blade forward, spurred his horse several steps ahead, and asked in a suppressed voice, “Who goes there?”
“Nephew Han, do you truly not wish to see this old man?”
Several people crossed the street and approached. Under the illumination of the horn lanterns, it was the white-faced, long-bearded Feng Wenlan along with Feng Wenlan’s eldest son Feng Liao, Feng Yi, Kong Xirong, and others. Han Qian had no idea which gate they had entered through, but they had actually rushed ahead to intercept him at the entrance to Lanting Lane.
At this time, Tian Cheng, Gao Shao, and Lin Haizheng emerged from the lane with a dozen or so men.
They had already noticed several carriages of unknown origin suddenly stopping at the lane entrance late at night. Not understanding what was happening, they had secretly stood guard in the lane. Only when they saw Han Qian entering the city under the stars did they emerge from the lane to join him.
Han Qian signaled Tian Cheng to have his men withdraw first—there was no need to disturb the neighbors.
Xi Ren lifted the carriage curtain. Han Qian saw Feng Wenlan’s graying temples and slightly swollen, haggard eyes under the horn lantern’s glow. His long beard messily covered his chin, making him appear rather down and out. He sighed softly and said, “Minister Feng, you overestimate Han Qian. If matters are truly as serious as Minister Feng predicts, even if Han Qian were willing to throw this worthless life away, I fear I still couldn’t stir up any waves to help you, Minister Feng.”
“Nephew Han, when you insisted on pushing several hundred loads of tea from Xuzhou onto the Feng family, this old man didn’t refuse them. And when Yi’er secretly helped the Linjiang money shop raise funds, this old man also turned a blind eye,” Feng Wenlan said.
Seeing this old fellow Feng Wenlan shamelessly playing the emotional card with him, Han Qian could only laugh it off and reply perfunctorily, “The matter is probably not as serious as Minister Feng says.”
“Then why did Nephew Han flee back to Lanting Lane overnight without even willing to see me?” Feng Wenlan asked.
“That’s because Minister Feng frightened me,” Han Qian said.
“Can Nephew Han introduce this old man to meet His Highness?” Feng Wenlan stared at Han Qian and asked.
“Minister Feng wants to see His Highness? But it’s so late—it’s truly inconvenient!” Han Qian said with a laugh.
Zhao Ting’er and Xi Ren sat in the carriage compartment. They remained in the shadows, watching Han Qian’s face reveal a trace of weary laziness under the horn lantern’s illumination. They couldn’t tell whether Han Qian’s words meant the hour was too late, or that the timing for Feng Wenlan to see the Third Prince was too late.
“Does Nephew Han truly feel this old man is going to see His Highness too late?” Feng Wenlan asked.
“If Minister Feng feels that way, this nephew has nothing to say,” Han Qian continued speaking ambiguously, thinking to himself: Isn’t that obvious? Otherwise, why would I bother avoiding you?
“Nephew Han, might you allow this old man to enter your residence for a drink of water?” Feng Wenlan persisted in staring at Han Qian and asking.
Seeing Feng Yi and Kong Xirong standing behind Feng Wenlan, both wearing expressions of deep fear, Han Qian ultimately couldn’t harden his heart enough to refuse them at the door. He unfastened his waist token and handed it to Gao Shao, saying, “Go and invite the two venerable ministers Jiang Huo and Yuan Guowei over. Tell them Minister Feng is paying a late-night visit to the Han residence, and ask them to trouble themselves to come for a discussion despite the late hour.”
Gao Shao didn’t understand the meaning and stood slightly stunned for a moment. He accepted the waist token Han Qian handed him, and without leading his horse, he leaped directly onto the wall, traversing the street obstacles by running along eaves and walls like a night cat, rushing toward the residences of Jiang Huo and Yuan Guowei at maximum speed.
Only then did Han Qian signal the driver to continue driving toward the Han family’s large residence in Lanting Lane.
Watching Feng Wenlan’s figure awkwardly climbing onto his carriage behind them, Zhao Ting’er asked Han Qian, “If the Feng family chooses to stand with the Third Prince at this time, can they still avoid disaster?”
“For a minister, not rashly speculating on the sovereign’s judgment is the only way to preserve one’s life,” Han Qian said mysteriously.
“Aren’t you constantly speculating back and forth all day long?” Zhao Ting’er said coquettishly.
“If the Feng family still had a chance to avoid disaster at this point, why would he flee into the city overnight like a dog?” Xi Ren glanced disdainfully at Han Qian and said, “And the fact that Feng Wenlan could intercept us here clearly shows he knows how serious the situation is, yet he still harbors illusions and even hopes that when Investigating Censor Zhang Han submits his impeachment memorial against the Feng family, the Third Prince can stand up and speak for him. I’m afraid he’s not clever enough.”
Han Qian ignored Xi Ren and Zhao Ting’er’s words. Through the carriage window, he watched Feng Wenlan’s carriage hurrying to catch up, sighing inwardly. The Feng family had always wanted to wait and see—this was perhaps one reason Emperor Tianyou finally lost patience, but definitely not the only reason.
The Jingxiang war had passed. Du Chongtao had ultimately managed to hold Xiangzhou. When reinforcements arrived, the court neither rewarded nor punished Du Chongtao, naturally also refusing to acknowledge the setback in the Jingxiang campaign.
However, local Jingxiang forces had undergone double purges before and after the war. This would greatly strengthen Jinling’s control over the Jingxiang region—to some extent, it couldn’t be considered a bad thing.
Yet the enormous war expenses, subsequent defense construction investments, and rewards for meritorious soldiers and officers truly pressed like a giant mountain upon the precarious finances, weighing so heavily that it seemed violent creaking sounds continuously echoed in everyone’s ears.
Apart from the enormous expenditures in the Chuzhou and Shouzhou directions, the war expenses in the Deng-Xiang direction over less than a year, though the Revenue Commission hadn’t finalized the accounting, Han Qian estimated would not be less than two billion coins.
This still hadn’t included the enormous subsequent construction costs for the Deng-Xiang defense line.
And Great Chu’s annual treasury revenue, at its peak, was only around twelve billion coins, with ordinary years seeing only seven to eight billion.
Although a considerable portion of the enormous expenditures before and after the Jingxiang campaign had been advanced from Jiang, E, and other prefectures, since it was advanced, these prefectures would naturally and justifiably deduct these expenses from tax revenues over the next several years.
This would directly cause Great Chu’s annual treasury revenue to lose the tax contributions from Jiang, E, Jing, Huang, and other prefectures.
Adding the deductions for war expenses in the Chuzhou and Shouzhou directions, how much of this year’s treasury revenue could Great Chu retain? Could they even fully pay the salaries of all civil and military officials?
Moreover, in these past two years, the climate in Jianghuai, Jiangnan East Circuit, Jingxiang, and other areas had greatly differed from previous years. Minor disasters were reported almost daily without interruption. Major disasters like the Yellow River breach and the flooding of Sizhou City had already left the court overwhelmed. In recent days, news had also arrived from Ganzhou, Hongzhou, Jiangzhou, and other places that flooding around Poyang Lake had further intensified.
Beyond establishing the legitimate heir and guarding against empowered consort families and border commanders usurping authority, Emperor Tianyou had many headaches at this time.
The Feng family was still too fat.
Like the Han clan, the Feng family’s ancestral home was in Xuanzhou, but the Feng ancestors had moved to Jinling to develop very early. They had served as Salt and Iron Transport Commissioner for Jiangnan East Circuit, once controlling transit taxes and mining taxes in Yue, Hu, Run, Xuan, Xi, and other prefectures. Before Emperor Tianyou established his capital in Jinling, the Feng family had already accumulated enormous wealth.
The Feng family had assessed the situation wisely. Before Emperor Tianyou raised troops to attack Jinling, they had already pledged allegiance, once donating over two hundred thousand bushels of grain to help Emperor Tianyou pacify Ning, Jiang, Xuan, Hong, and other prefectures. Feng Wenlan’s father, Feng Yue, had therefore served as the first Salt and Iron Transport Commissioner after Great Chu’s founding. Feng Wenlan himself had also climbed step by step to the high position of Vice Minister of Revenue.
How substantial the Feng family’s clan property was—Han Qian had secretly investigated before.
The Feng family owned estates in Xuanzhou, Jinling, Yangzhou, and Runzhou, with farmland totaling one hundred thirty to forty thousand mu and nearly ten thousand slaves. Additionally, they owned over a hundred mines, tea mountains, iron works, shipyards, weaving workshops, medicinal herb shops, silk establishments, pawn shops, gambling houses, taverns, and warehouses.
As for the gold, silver, and goods the Feng family privately stored, this was beyond what the Left Bureau’s agents could investigate clearly.
……
……
Entering the large residence, Han Qian had everyone else withdraw, leaving only Zhao Ting’er and Xi Ren in the courtyard to serve tea. Watching fine beads of sweat seep from Feng Wenlan’s plump forehead, he thought that by now it was already late August, well into autumn, yet the deep night air still felt damp and hot, making people irritable and uneasy.
Han Qian accepted the tea Zhao Ting’er poured and took a small sip before asking Feng Wenlan again, “Why does Minister Feng have a premonition of great disaster?”
“In Zhang Han’s impeachment memorial, he slanders my Feng family with deliberately sabotaging the imperial tomb’s dragon veins and harboring treasonous intentions,” Feng Wenlan said bitterly. “And I’m sure Nephew is also aware that although Zhang Han has been a minor Investigating Censor these past years, not one person he has impeached has been able to stand firm.”
Han Qian looked at Feng Wenlan, unsure whether he was clever or confused. He wondered: since Feng Wenlan now had such a strong will to survive and sense of vigilance, why had he remained in Jinling City all this time sitting on the fence and observing? And why had he coveted such small advantages, actively handing over this weakness?
Seeing Han Qian remain silent, Feng Wenlan said, “If Nephew can help the Feng family weather this disaster…”
Seeing Feng Wenlan about to make promises, Han Qian cut off his words, saying, “Minister Feng, don’t harm me. I still want my head to remain on my neck a bit longer. At most, I’ll help Minister Feng invite the two venerable ministers Jiang Huo and Yuan Guowei over.”
Zhao Ting’er cast a puzzled glance at Xi Ren. With outsiders present, she couldn’t conveniently ask Han Qian directly: since you’ve already directly refused to take Feng Wenlan to see the Third Prince, what use could there be in inviting Jiang Huo and Yuan Guowei over?
However, Zhao Ting’er noticed that after hearing Han Qian’s words, Feng Wenlan said nothing more but instead paced anxiously around the courtyard. Her heart jolted—could it be that Feng Wenlan already knew the identities of Jiang Huo and Yuan Guowei? Did he also know what Han Qian intended by inviting them over?
Zhao Ting’er sighed inwardly, looking at Feng Yi and Kong Xirong’s restless and confused expressions. Clearly they hadn’t guessed what riddle Han Qian and Feng Wenlan were playing!