The first time sleeping in the countryside, and it turned out to be in the poorest household of all.

No familiar bed or sleeping platform. No pleasant incense. Not even a decent blanket.

Zhang Zhixu had no choice but to sit back-to-back with Chen Baoxiang on a long bench, covered in grime, holding his eyelids open as he stared out at the night sky.

“Han Xiao mentioned earlier that girls have a very hard time surviving out here in the countryside — she only had a chance to escape to Shangjing because her grandmother protected her.” He asked Chen Baoxiang, “And you? How did you make your way from Sanxiang Village to Shangjing back then?”

Chen Baoxiang seemed drowsy, and answered in a half-muddled voice, “I just walked.”

Zhang Zhixu jabbed her arm, unsatisfied. “Tell me properly.”

“Fine.” The person behind him shifted. “I suppose I have no choice. When I was twelve, Sanxiang Village was hit by a great flood. Many people died. I was lucky enough to escape, so I went with Elder Ye and the surviving villagers to make a living at the border garrison.”

“The border garrison?” Zhang Zhixu didn’t understand. “Isn’t that even harder?”

“Auntie Liu said she had someone she knew in the military camp — thought we might get a bit of shelter.”

“Someone she knew — Lu Qingrong?” He was puzzled. “Didn’t you say she didn’t remember you?”

“That’s right. Lucky she didn’t.”

“What?”

“Never mind.” Chen Baoxiang laughed and stretched. “The point is, I’ve had quite an eventful life. Fighting in the fields at five, fighting people at the border garrison at thirteen, then serving as a soldier, getting robbed by bandits, muddling through one thing after another — and somehow making it to this age.”

That does sound eventful. But looking more carefully, it also meant she had swallowed no small amount of hardship.

“Did Elder Ye come to Shangjing with you?”

“No, she’s still in the border garrison town. I’ve been thinking — once things settle down here in the capital, I’ll go back to see her.”

So she was still at the border garrison.

Zhang Zhixu said, “If you don’t have time, you could bring her here. I’ll cover the travel expenses.”

The person behind him suddenly laughed warmly. “Great Immortal, you really are one of the finest people there is. But she can’t take the strain of such a journey anymore — I really do have to go to her myself.”

She seemed very happy, her shoulders shaking with quiet laughter.

Zhang Zhixu smiled too, looking out at the vast spread of stars. He made a quiet wish aloud. “All right, then. Someday when there’s time, I’ll go with you to see her.”

Chen Baoxiang made no further reply, as if she had already fallen asleep.

He gazed out toward the distant fields on his own, sorting through his thoughts about who he would need to question tomorrow, what additional evidence was needed.

·

The harsh conditions cured the Second Young Master Zhang of his fastidiousness. He stayed in An Xian for three consecutive days, and in that time not only gathered enough testimony and verified the accounts, but also caught a records officer slacking off.

“Wasn’t the Department of Brewing supposed to send Recorder Pei to report for duty today?” he asked.

The clerk across from him looked at the badge in Ningsu’s hand and answered, trembling slightly. “That was the plan, but Recorder Pei had an urgent family matter and sent Recorder Liu in his place. You can ask him — it amounts to the same thing.”

Urgent family matter. Pei Ruheng had clearly just wanted to avoid this wretched field posting and used his connections to send someone else in his stead.

Zhang Zhixu turned to the unfortunate Recorder Liu. “You go back. Tell your superior in the Department of Brewing that I want him here personally. Tell him it’s my order: the grain collection matter for this year is not resolved, and he is not permitted to leave An Xian.”

“But, official, this—”

“Pass the message as I’ve told you.”

“…Yes.”

Ningsu watched Recorder Liu dash off in a hurry, then couldn’t help remarking, “These two are only sixth-rank duty recorders — there are still two more levels of superior between them and the head of the Department of Brewing. Suddenly making that superior come personally to receive punishment in their stead… won’t Pei Ruheng be in serious trouble?”

He paused, and then the realization hit him. “Is that exactly what you intended, Master?”

“They recruited people through official channels and those people turned out to be useless — naturally they have to bear the consequences.” Zhang Zhixu turned and walked away. “It would be the same for anyone.”

“And it’s not on account of Official Chen?”

“No.”

Zhang Zhixu gave an impatient huff, thinking to himself that he was not someone who mixed personal with official matters — he would never go after Pei Ruheng on Chen Baoxiang’s account.

That was how he saw it. The Pei Family saw it rather differently.

Pei Ruheng had barely gotten settled in his post — and already, within only a few days, his department head was personally reprimanding him and issuing an external posting order, sending him off to suffer in some godforsaken backwater like An Xian.

Pei’s mother rushed around pulling strings, trying to find out who he had managed to offend.

The result: the department head’s wife smiled pleasantly but with cold eyes and said, “There’s an official in the Military Guard Yamen of the Department of Works who has been rising fast. Her name is Chen Baoxiang. Why don’t you go home and ask your son if he knows her?”

Chen Baoxiang was out in Shangjing galloping on horseback when she suddenly sneezed.

She looked left and right in puzzlement, finding nothing out of the ordinary.

“Official.” Zhao Huaizhu pointed ahead. “The place where the people from Xiaohui Moneylending House are being held is just up ahead.”

Chen Baoxiang snapped back to attention, rode forward, dismounted, and knocked on the door.

Jiuquan came to open it and led her inside, talking as they walked. “I’ve already questioned all of them. The true owner behind this moneylending house is Lu Huan — he and Lu Xi are twin brothers. Xiaohui Moneylending House has been seizing farmers’ land by altering debt contracts, then the house sells that land to Lu Xi at inflated prices. The silver is just passing from one hand to the other — circulating back and forth between the two of them — while the land gets swept up in greater and greater amounts. Three years’ worth adds up to a staggering number.”

Chen Baoxiang listened calmly and asked, “If we expose this directly, how big can we make it?”

Jiuquan pressed his lips together. “Lu Shouhuai has Cheng Huaili backing him — he has quite a following among the Three Departments. Once the complaint is filed with the Shangjing court, it will likely be quietly shelved.”

“Then leave it to me. I’ll make it impossible to ignore.”

Jiuquan nodded. “Master has already passed word to me — I’ll cooperate fully. Just tell me: are we gathering people to make noise going back and forth through the East and West Markets, or rallying several hundred people to sit in protest outside the yamen?”

These were the two most commonly used methods in Shangjing for escalating a matter.

But Chen Baoxiang shook her head at both options. “Yanglin Village doesn’t have much time to waste. We need to make the biggest possible noise in the shortest possible time.”

Jiuquan was taken aback.

The mild spring breeze moved along the main road outside Xuanwumen, carrying the sweet scent of flowers. The weather was fine.

The manager of Xiaohui Moneylending House opened his doors as usual that morning and hollered at his hired hands to go out and collect debts.

But before his foot had even cleared the doorway, a group of men in black suddenly poured in, and in three swift moves they had bound the whole lot of them.

“In broad daylight — what do you think you’re doing!” the manager roared in shock.

One of the men in black grabbed a clump of cow dung and shoved it into his mouth.

The manager thrashed and strained with wild, bulging eyes. The men in black worked with the precision of trained soldiers — one gesture and the man was dragged to the back, the moneylending house doors swung shut behind him.

At midday, Pei Ruheng rode a sedan chair with a cold expression on his face to find Chen Baoxiang.

As the sedan chair passed the front of the Court of Judicial Review, a sudden commotion erupted.

“What’s going on?”

“Sir, ahead of us—” Shoumo drew in a sharp breath. “Something has happened up ahead.”

Pei Ruheng pushed aside the curtain and looked up — and his pupils shrank.

Hanging beneath the towering gate plaque of the Court of Judicial Review were seven people. Three on either side who looked like hired thugs, and in the center, someone Pei Ruheng recognized as the manager of Xiaohui Moneylending House.

Manager Sun hung there completely stripped, head shaved clean, his bulging belly constricted into rolls of flesh by the ropes, two wooden placards hanging from his body.

Pei Ruheng stepped forward through the crowd to read them closely.