From Yongtong Canal back into the city, they passed through Mingde Gate and traveled the full length of Zhuque Boulevard. Shen Xiao’s sedan chair stopped outside Hanguang Gate, and he walked the rest of the way into the imperial city, returning to the Ministry of Finance.

By now it was already afternoon.

The Ministry of Finance was a picture of bustling activity.

Ever since the great drought struck Guanzhong, every level of the Ministry had been strung taut with anxiety, terrified that the slightest misstep might lead to catastrophe. When the “grain-in-lieu-of-silver” policy landed on the Ministry’s shoulders at the beginning of the third month, it added yet another heavy burden.

Shen Xiao had barely stepped into the main hall and had not yet sat down when a servant of the Second Prince came running over. “Master Shen, the Second Prince requests your presence.”

The timing was too precise — it was as if the Second Prince had been waiting for him specifically.

For a moment, the busy chatter of the office fell still, and a number of unreadable glances settled on the recently appointed eighth-rank Director.

The Second Prince had been showing considerable favor toward this Director Shen, who came from a humble background.

Shen Xiao acted as if he noticed none of those looks, and followed the servant out the main hall’s doors, walking along the corridor toward the inner courtyard.

To give the princes practical experience in governance after they came of age, they were generally assigned nominal supervisory roles at various government offices. Many of the princes treated these as purely titular positions and would not set foot in the offices from one end of the year to the other.

But the Second Prince was different. He came to the Ministry of Finance nearly every day, directly overseeing its large and small affairs. Whatever one might say of his abilities, that diligent, conscientious attitude alone was rare and commendable.

Shen Xiao followed the servant down the corridor, through the inner courtyard, and into the main hall. The Second Prince, Li Yan, was seated at the main desk beside the window in the left chamber, reading through a memorial.

Shen Xiao entered and paid his respects first, then straightened up.

Li Yan set down the memorial and looked at Shen Xiao with a smile. “The trip to Yongtong Canal must have been taxing for you.”

His voice was warm and familiar.

Shen Xiao replied with studied formality: “This is within the scope of my duties.”

A thin layer of sweat had not yet dried on his back, though the room had ice basins set in each corner, and gradually his heat dissipated.

Shen Xiao disliked the back-and-forth of pleasantries — a waste of time. He paused for a moment to organize his words, then told Li Yan in full and faithful detail everything that had happened that morning at Yongtong Canal.

Li Yan listened and gave a cold laugh. “To force my hand, Cui Jinzhi really has staked everything!”

He closed his hand into a fist and tapped the table with his knuckles — once, twice, three times — seeming to sink into thought.

After a moment, Li Yan raised his head. “Master Shen, what is your view?”

Shen Xiao said: “Since last summer, rainfall in Guanzhong has been well below average. The harvest in the countryside has been poor. His Majesty, in his benevolence, already reduced autumn tax collection by ten percent, so the Ministry’s grain stores have been running short for some time. Now that the great drought has struck Guanzhong, every quarter is demanding grain from the Ministry, which is already stretched to the breaking point. And with the Deputy Minister ordered to oversee the repair of Yongtong Canal — an undertaking that consumes grain at a tremendous rate — and moreover…”

Shen Xiao paused, then continued: “Yongtong Canal, I fear, is a bottomless pit that can never be filled.”

Li Yan nodded, thinking to himself that Shen Xiao was truly a perceptive man. He had been under his command for only a few short days, yet had already seen the conflict between the Crown Prince and himself with perfect clarity.

A bottomless pit indeed — the Crown Prince had that trump card of Yongtong Canal in his hand, and was simply waiting to exhaust and drag down the Second Prince.

Li Yan let out a sigh. “What you have said, this Prince understands. But Cui Jinzhi is demanding grain, and this Prince cannot simply drag his feet and refuse. Yet if this Prince allocates grain to him, he will always find ways to consume it.”

It was a dilemma with no easy way out.

Shen Xiao nodded. “Your Highness speaks truly — there is no grounds for withholding grain. Therefore, the Ministry allocating grain to Yongtong Canal is unavoidable.”

Li Yan fixed his gaze on Shen Xiao. “But if we let Cui Jinzhi bleed us dry like this, the Ministry will be completely ruined within three months. Master Shen — what is your solution?”

Within just this brief conversation, the Second Prince Li Yan had asked Shen Xiao “what to do” twice.

Shen Xiao lowered his eyes slightly, his gaze resting on the smooth surface of the blue-gray bricks. Long lashes like black feathers veiled his expression. Within those deep, dark eyes burned a reckless, all-or-nothing ambition.

After a moment, Shen Xiao raised his eyes and spoke, word by deliberate word: “This official has one solution — grain requisitioning.”

Li Yan’s eyes lit up.

Shen Xiao continued: “Going by the Ministry’s current grain stores, even if not another government office came asking for grain over the next three months, we still could not withstand Yongtong Canal’s rate of consumption. To say nothing of the fact that Deputy Minister Cui will certainly find every conceivable method to demand more grain from the Ministry — he will not rest until the Ministry is drained dry. In matters of revenue and supply, it all comes down to four words: increase income and reduce expenditure. But ‘reduce expenditure’ is now impossible — every government office is reaching out its hand to the Ministry, and Yongtong Canal cannot be left waiting. That leaves only ‘increase income.'”

Shen Xiao was typically a man of few words, yet when he spoke of strategy, he was measured and clear, unhurried — it was evident he had been turning this over in his mind for a long time.

“The imperial relatives and aristocratic clans, the great families and old houses — they hold land and estates beyond counting. So long as the Ministry can requisition some grain from them to address this emergency, that will be enough. The Crown Prince has given the Emperor a sworn promise before the court: Yongtong Canal will be completed within three months. If the project falls behind schedule within those three months, it is the Ministry’s failure. But if Yongtong Canal is still unfinished after three months — then that becomes the Deputy Minister’s failure.”

So long as the Ministry could hold out through these three months, the Second Prince would have withstood the Crown Prince’s pressure, and still hold the Ministry firmly in his grasp — with the two sides still evenly matched.

The contest for succession remained undecided.

Shen Xiao raised his eyes, his gaze steady as he looked at Li Yan, and slowly sank to one knee. “This official is unworthy, but is willing to bear this burden and carry out the grain requisitioning on Your Highness’s behalf.”

When Shen Xiao finished speaking, Li Yan — who had seemingly been waiting a long time for just this — immediately stood up from behind the writing table, circling around it with great excitement and striding straight toward Shen Xiao. He promptly helped him to his feet and clapped him on the back with enthusiasm. “Excellent! This Prince’s trust in you has not been misplaced!”

Shen Xiao rose to his feet with the support offered, and heard Li Yan continue: “The Shaanxi Bureau’s department head is about to retire. When this matter is done, this Prince will put your name forward for that post.”

Shen Xiao gave a faint smile. “This official will not fail Your Highness.”

The head of the Ministry of Finance’s Shaanxi Bureau — a rank five position, responsible for taxes and grain in the Guanzhong region. Not as profitable as the posts of the Jiangzhe Bureau, but Guanzhong was at the very foot of the Son of Heaven, and overseeing the taxes and grain of the imperial heartland meant having a grip on the lifeblood of countless powerful households. Not much wealth, but an enormous degree of authority.

This would be no more than what he deserved, Shen Xiao thought. His spine straightened.

Li Yan personally escorted Shen Xiao to the door and stood beneath the eaves of the main hall, watching the figure in deep teal official robes grow smaller and smaller as it walked away along the corridor.

He narrowed his eyes, and then suddenly smiled.

“Second Elder Brother — in this world, when is there ever truly a dead end? The granaries of the imperial treasury cannot be touched, and the grain in the countryside has all been eaten up — but with so many aristocratic families and great houses in Chang’an, which household does not have a grain storehouse?”

In Li Yan’s mind echoed the words Li Shu had said to him that day outside Princess Pingyang’s gate.

He closed his eyes briefly, and seemed to see Li Shu’s cold and lightly mocking face right before him.

Grain requisitioning? Laughable.

The Great Ye dynasty had been established for over a hundred years. The imperial relatives, the great aristocratic clans — they had put down roots in Guanzhong, tangled and deep. To requisition grain from them was to openly carve flesh from their bodies. Who would willingly submit to that? Such an act would inevitably make enemies of every meritorious noble house.

Furthermore, the majority of the great families had pledged their allegiance to the Crown Prince. The small remainder who remained neutral did not dare risk offending the Crown Prince by releasing grain to the Second Prince’s side.

This was a task that would alienate every civil and military official in the court — and beyond that, it was a task that was absolutely impossible to accomplish.

Li Yan had already long since thought this through.

From first to last, Shen Xiao was nothing more than a sacrificial piece.

Li Yan would use Shen Xiao to put on a show for the Emperor — a performance of diligent grain requisitioning — and simply bide his time until the three months were up, then push all the blame for the failed requisition squarely onto Shen Xiao’s shoulders.

By then, he would not escape without losing a layer of skin. But Shen Xiao would go to his death in his place.

For someone to surmount the hurdle of grain-in-lieu-of-silver, there had to be someone offered up to the sacrificial altar.

This was the true purpose for which Li Yan had brought Shen Xiao into his service.