Ever since ascending the throne, Emperor Wu Yang Zao’s largest income had been this autumn’s agricultural tax, yet what had truly sustained Great Liang’s steady advance was the war dividends accumulated over the past decade.

There’s no such thing as a clean war in this world—whatever state policy the current Emperor pursued now, those who survived Hongshun remembered clearly enough that this Emperor had clawed his way up through outright plunder.

Before becoming emperor, this man had been a hardened bandit.

That Emperor Wu Yang Zao could smoothly ascend the throne and win the support of the previous dynasty’s old officials traced back to his bandit origins—back when the righteous army’s banner had several rival claimant factions, the process generally went like this: others would kill people, wipe out clans, and plunder goods, and then Emperor Wu Yang Zao would go after these very people, seizing back from them what they’d taken, giving the original victims just enough to survive, and keeping the rest for himself.

This was a hardened bandit—only robbing other bandits.

His reputation was the best of all, and so everyone rallied behind him.

Emperor Wu never considered being emperor a pleasant job—this had everything to do with how tight his funds were, with the whole nation spending from his private treasury.

How difficult it all was—a full two hundred sixty thousand taels of pure silver, the largest tribute Emperor Wu Yang Zao had received since ascending the throne, and as a ruler, he was absolutely not pleased about it.

He was even aggrieved, angry, resentful—finally, feigning astonishment, he asked: “Five hundred li of veteran recluses, and their annual tribute comes to this much?”

Meng Dingchen was startled and said nothing, but Second Prince Yang Zhen laughed: “Father, this is three years of tribute, not one year’s worth. And besides, the Baiquan Mountain region around Qingfeng has special circumstances—it’s the region with the highest concentration of merchants in the whole country.

Aside from merchants, our capital Yandu also has branch chapters of various major factions gathered here, and recently there was that massacre where Pang Tu slaughtered fellow martial artists. This silver, rather than tribute to the veteran recluses, might better be called thank-you money. After all, Madam Yushu preserved the dignity of the entire Baiquan Mountain lineage.”

Hearing his son say this, the Emperor lowered his head to think for a moment, then smiled: “True enough, sometimes a person’s face is worth more than their life. My son is clever… Hmm, this Madam Yushu is quite interesting—why would she think to hand over this silver? Could it be that there really are those in the martial world indifferent to fame and fortune? I don’t believe it, though. Fifth Brother, wouldn’t you say so?”

Meng Dingchen paused, then replied with lowered head: “Reporting to Your Majesty, there are, though not many.”

Emperor Wu raised an eyebrow: “Oh? Not many, since Fifth Brother says so, you must know their names too. Tell me today, who are they?”

Meng Dingchen replied without raising his head: “Well, the late Xuan Shan…”

Emperor Wu waved his hand with a light laugh: “That one doesn’t count! No need to mention the Northern and Southern Huguo Temples—though you and your nephew both come from Huguo Temple, there’s something I must say too. Everyone claims the whole realm belongs to me—that’s pure nonsense! I’ve been busy an entire year and haven’t received two hundred thousand taels in tribute, yet a mere woman easily managed to gather this much.

Who else, hmm? Ha, it just happens to be monks from these two temples, who’ve returned to secular life years ago, and how many of them have you all wiped out—Fifth Brother, and you still have a Buddhist heart? Huguo Temple—why, even the abbots of their branch temples across the country are wealthier than me. Other martial factions have all endured the chaos of war, yet Huguo Temple’s assets have been preserved for eight hundred seventy-two years—of course they can afford to be indifferent to fame and fortune with money like that in hand. Fifth Brother, let’s not talk about monks today—name someone else I don’t know?”

Meng Dingchen’s heart twitched, but finally said: “…Madam Yushu.”

The Emperor, about to drink his tea, froze with the cup halfway to his lips. After a long moment, he set down the cup and burst out laughing. Finally, turning to look at She Banban who’d been silent the whole time, he asked: “Say, Qingling, what’s got you so distracted all day?”

She Banban, startled at this, snapped out of his daydream and said with a hint of pride: “What else could it be? Something big, of course! There’s some trouble at home, my adoptive mother’s asking me what to do about it.”

The Emperor’s cheek twitched, and after a “tsk,” he said: “Family matters? Heh! Set your family matters aside for now—I’m asking you, how should we handle this windfall from Baiquan Mountain?”

Reward, or punishment?

She Banban was startled at this, looked at the pile of silver chests, then at the Emperor, then at the somewhat uneasy Meng Dingchen, and finally at Second Prince Yang Zhen with eyes shining—and finally spoke with his usual acerbic tone: “That question’s pointless! I’m a eunuch—it’s already overstepping for me to help you manage the Ministry of Revenue’s accounts. You’ve really asked the wrong person!

I don’t even leave the house, I barely dare eat chicken—how would I know anything about the martial world? I don’t deal with those people! Whatever Baiquan Mountain, Yuegong Mountain—to me, anyone living in the mountains and not paying taxes is no good at all. The Ministry of Revenue’s treasury can’t even feed its poor mice properly!”

Chen Dasheng, sitting outside the hall practicing calligraphy, paused mid-stroke at this. His adoptive father was a walking encyclopedia of the martial world, often privately telling him all sorts of sordid martial-world secrets—how veteran recluses built secret “Heaven’s Fragrance Caves” in the mountains, how famous righteous heroes secretly carried on with their sisters-in-law behind the scenes, how they appeared virtuous, traveling about rescuing people from hardship, while secretly colluding with Meng Dingchen to quietly eliminate rival factions.

Not only did he know—he knew even more than Meng Dingchen himself. Meng Dingchen thought Huguo Temple’s abbot Xuan Shan had died in meditation, but his adoptive father knew for certain Xuan Shan had taken poison.

The Emperor, quite deflated, finally muttered helplessly after a long moment: “So I’ve just interrupted you thinking about your family troubles? If you can’t solve it yourself, why take it out on me? Fine, fine, no point asking you, your mind’s stuck on money anyway—I really am too idle. Cough… well then, Fifth Brother, have the silver taken to my private treasury…”

But before the Emperor could finish, She Banban interrupted again: “They only brought it here to show you—you’re really thinking of taking it into your private treasury? You think tomorrow the six ministry heads won’t come crying poverty in front of you, threatening to hang themselves? Are the burned-out granaries in the five southern commanderies not being rebuilt yet? Is the canal not being dredged? Yandu’s groundwater’s already too foul to drink—is the sewage system not being laid? Are you serious?”

“Heh…” Second Prince Yang Zhen couldn’t help laughing out loud, and immediately got smacked with a folded memorial from his father. Pacing around the hall with hands behind his back, the Emperor waved irritably: “Take it away, take it away! Next time don’t drag it in front of me to dazzle my eyes…”

He had the silver carried off, and Meng Dingchen had no choice but to speak up—after all, Madam Yushu was a martial-world figure, and the silver had been presented through his own Jiu Si Tang, so he owed the martial world some kind of accounting.

Even if the Emperor didn’t want to give anything, Meng Dingchen had to ask on Madam Yushu’s behalf—otherwise, how could Jiu Si Tang hold its head up before the martial world afterward?

Meng Dingchen cupped his hands and said to the Emperor: “Your Majesty, will you only take this one tribute payment?”

Chen Dasheng crumpled up the ruined sheet of rice paper he’d been writing on and tucked it into his robe.

Inside the hall, the Emperor, feigning irritation, slapped the table and muttered: “Hmph! I knew it, I knew it… someone, draft an edict. Baiquan Mountain’s Madam Yushu, having skinned herself to save the common people from hardship last year, showing benevolent virtue to the people within a hundred li—shall… shall we allocate a thousand taels from the Empress Dowager’s private treasury, and build a temple at the foot of Baiquan Mountain so the surrounding common folk may worship there. Issue this as an imperial decree from the Empress Dowager herself—Madam Yushu is a woman, and the Empress Dowager is a woman too, that’s fair enough. Oh, and finally, have the various palace consorts contribute from their own private funds according to rank, starting with the Empress at a hundred taels and decreasing by rank, as rewards for Madam Yushu. And don’t forget to have a stele carved in front of the temple for future generations to pay their respects.”

Meng Dingchen thought for a moment with lowered head, then finally expressed grateful appreciation, kowtowing on Madam Yushu’s behalf to thank the Emperor’s grace.

And so, this late-night small court session came to an end.

She Banban withdrew swiftly, but as he reached the door, the Emperor asked, seemingly offhandedly: “Qingling? What trouble has the old lady run into?”

Hearing this, She Banban turned back and replied quite seriously: “Reporting to Your Majesty, the old lady wrote complaining that the concubine in Fourth Master’s courtyard next door is misbehaving again—going out gadding about every day, and recently that unfilial thing has gotten acquainted with Wen Shi, the third daughter-in-law of Yang Shisheng, deputy prefect of Qingfeng, from Board of Rites Lane. That Wen Shi is cruel by nature, and the children she’s raised are just as unbearable—she’s scratched up Feilian’s little sister Xique’s face, disfiguring her…”

Several court officials walking toward the hall doors stopped in their tracks, staring at She Banban in astonishment.

This was She Qingling? The one loyal to the core, descendant of a whole household of martyrs—was this what he’d just said?

The Emperor’s expression was also one of astonishment, and after a long moment he asked, stammering: “You’ve been distracted all day… over this?”

Seemingly displeased at the Emperor’s tone, She Qingling bowed and said: “Your Majesty! Xique is only four years old this year, and her whole life is ruined—how is this a small matter?”

With that, he unceremoniously flicked his sleeve and left. As he descended the steps, Chen Dasheng hurried forward to support him on the way down.

The Emperor watched his retreating back until he disappeared into the night, then suddenly smiled, saying to the several ministers standing at the door: “Cough, gentlemen, please be understanding. It’s no wonder Qingling cares so much—before, he didn’t even have a place to call home. Even after all this time since I ascended the throne, he still doesn’t dare return to his former residence. However vast this realm is, the only eaves that can shelter Qingling are under the Feilian family’s roof. That family’s old lady is a good one, and Feilian’s an honest child too. So, hmm, it’s good—these two households, both full of loyal martyrs, being able to live together as one family… when I’m gone, I can rest easy knowing this. A good thing, a good thing! You may all withdraw now…”

The ministers took their leave with unreadable expressions, though Second Prince Yang Zhen stood outside Dongming Hall in silence for a long while.

Not until Meng Dingchen came out to call him did he turn with a smile and ask: “Father gave that silver to that place?”

Meng Dingchen smiled: “His Majesty said, since it came from the martial world, it should go to Jiu Si Tang for its own use.”

Hearing this, Yang Zhen laughed—young as he was, he couldn’t help but show his delight openly.

Meng Dingchen coughed lightly and said quietly: “Zhen’er, even if you’ve guessed your father’s intentions, you mustn’t show it so plainly.”

Yang Zhen was startled, his expression quickly turning serious, then said to Meng Dingchen: “Junior Uncle-Master is right. Only—Junior Uncle-Master? There’s something I’ve always wanted to ask.”

Meng Dingchen pointed toward the distance, and the uncle and nephew walked slowly toward the palace exit. As they walked, Yang Zhen said: “Among all the court officials, there’s no one else like him. Junior Uncle-Master, I don’t quite like She Qingling. You know, having someone like that around the palace—I don’t like it, not because he’s arrogant and ignores me, not because he’s done anything wrong, but I just… don’t particularly like him.”

Meng Dingchen smiled: “With a temperament as sharp as his, nine out of ten people would fear him, and the remaining one would dislike him just as Your Highness does. But allow me to advise you—though She Qingling is proud, he is upright and focused, and has rendered great service to the state. His only personal attachment is that Chen Feilian… Your Highness is still young, and there’s much to learn about conducting yourself as a person. Today, tomorrow, the day after—toward She Qingling, you must always maintain the posture of a junior, and treat him with proper respect and devotion.”

Once outside the inner palace gate, Yang Zhen asked: “Why?”

Meng Dingchen thought for a moment, then said: “He holds the Emperor’s posthumous reputation in his hands. He commands the people’s hearts while alive, and after his death, there will surely be those who write his biography—and in such books, the emperor is merely incidental. If you treat him well, it becomes a fine tale in the official histories; if you neglect him, it becomes the tale of a foolish ruler in the unofficial chronicles, like that of the Dark Emperor.”

Yang Zhen looked at Meng Dingchen in astonishment: “He’s merely a eunuch.”

Meng Dingchen stopped abruptly, glanced behind him, and said: “Your Highness has misspoken.”

Yang Zhen fell silent at once, and after a long while nodded: “Yes.”

Meng Dingchen continued walking, teaching as he went: “Zhen’er must remember, his influence within this palace exceeds your own—you must always be extremely cautious in your words from now on… and as for your father, he is an emperor who rose through rebellion, and before your father rebelled, the previous dynasty supported your Yang family generously for at least eight generations—even your grandfather cannot deny that your family once ate from their bowl.”

Yang Zhen, with youthful arrogance, said disdainfully: “So what?”

Meng Dingchen calmly explained: “It’s not ‘so what.’ As long as he lives at the emperor’s side, it proves the previous dynasty was tyrannical and the people suffered—without the pretext of the She family’s household of martyrs, the matter of Fanxi Fish Way would eventually fade from memory. People’s memory is always short; as the years pass, mention of your Yang family would simply become ‘they ate from the previous dynasty’s bowl and rebelled against the Dark Emperor.’

Future generations judging you harshly—would you crawl out of your mausoleum to argue with them? So, whether She Qingling matters or not, beyond his own abilities, he serves as a layer of gilding on the emperor’s virtue.

Go home tonight and read carefully through the proclamation the six rebel factions issued to the realm back then, and you’ll understand. She Qingling’s pride comes from his family’s sacrificed lives, which gave the various rebel factions a righteous pretext for rebellion.”

Yang Zhen nodded, and personally took the reins to lead his uncle-master’s horse, though Meng Dingchen didn’t dare accept, instead helping him mount instead. These days, Second Prince Yang Zhen went daily to Green Sparrow Nunnery outside Qingfeng City to kneel in prayer alongside Dowager Jiang.

Once they’d left Yandu, Meng Dingchen turned his horse’s head back, and looking with Yang Zhen back toward Yandu’s east gate, said: “Zhen’er, the emperor is also called the Son of Heaven—this is why emperors throughout the ages have called themselves Heaven’s sons. The Dark Emperor was a man of great talent, and his way of ruling wasn’t necessarily all wrong. You see how many in the northern martial world still miss the Dark Emperor even now—that tells you he governed reasonably well before. When the previous dynasty fell, all its accumulated chronic ills were laid at his feet, and the Fanxi Fish Way affair was merely a pretext.

Though your father’s rebellion was accompanied by Heaven’s punishment descending on Qingfeng, what came before that punishment? Who’s to prove that the rebellion before Heaven’s punishment was justified? What sets your father apart from the rebel factions before him is that his divine sign appeared after the rebellion, not before. So, if you want to be judged fairly by future historians, keeping She Qingling nearby, honored and respected, is one of the necessary conditions for your father to become a wise ruler in the history books…”

Second Prince Yang Zhen was silent for a long while before saying: “I’ve observed that my father’s feelings toward She Qingling aren’t feigned.”

Meng Dingchen nodded: “Of course they’re not feigned! His Majesty’s affection for She Qingling comes entirely from the heart. She Qingling too is someone who transcends the ordinary, a man of deep inner cultivation. In my whole life, I’ve admired few people in this world—if there are any I admire, Your Father the Emperor and She Qingling are among them…”

She Banban had no idea Meng Dingchen was praising him just then—and even if he had known, he’d have dismissed it with disdainful indifference.

Just as others taught their juniors, he too was engaged in the same lesson right now.

The way back to the small courtyard passed through a long corridor—the very corridor where Chen Dasheng had once led men in pursuit of the Dark Emperor.

She Banban seemed to hold a particular fondness for this corridor. He liked walking through its empty stretches, using the opportunity to teach his adopted son some practical wisdom.

The corridor was narrow, its echo considerable, giving every word he spoke a force that seemed to strike directly into the mind.

Having dismissed those around them, She Banban asked Chen Dasheng as they walked: “Did my son notice anything today?”

Chen Dasheng was startled and replied: “Hm? His Majesty was angry.”

Hearing this, She Banban laughed, then said: “Right. The man’s aggrieved to death—this autumn’s agricultural tax from Qingfeng didn’t even amount to half of what was given to Madam Yushu. His Majesty thought he’d done quite well, sparing no effort in taxing to support the people, yet never expected he still lacked the people’s hearts.”

Chen Dasheng nodded: “Just so—even I feel indignant about it. From last year until now, you and His Majesty have lost so many nights of sleep over the common people’s welfare.”

Yet hearing this, She Banban let out a disdainful laugh: “That’s because your Emperor’s temperament still hasn’t shed its mortal attachments. Naturally he feels aggrieved—but that grievance will only last a few more years…”

He suddenly stopped and looked at Chen Dasheng: “I shouldn’t be teaching you this next line, but it will help you in observing rulers’ joys and sorrows. Remember this, my son: a ruler’s heart can still be fathomed, but to a ruler, the people’s hearts are the coldest, most elusive, most frigid thing in this world. The two who resent each other most in this world are the ruler and the people—they exist in mutual dependence, yet mutual resentment, and can never truly reconcile.”

Chen Dasheng was dumbfounded, and after a long while said: “Isn’t it said that once the people are fed, their hearts can be won?”

She Banban said: “Did the Dark Emperor never feed them?”

Chen Dasheng nodded blankly—indeed, they had been fed. Over the years, there had been good times too—but what did that have to do with the Dark Emperor?

He continued walking alongside She Banban, and heard him say quietly: “For a new ruler, they strive diligently in the hope the people will be of use to them. But once they’ve been ruler long enough, they discover the people, being so numerous, are fickle. So, I see it this way—the ruler is a cat, and the people are a tiger. Handle them poorly even slightly, and the people will devour the ruler!

I’ll have you wait a few years, and you’ll see—those who sit long in power grow a cold-hearted temperament. To them, the people are never satisfied, demanding more again and again, and so the ruler comes to resent them. And from that resentment, the people will look to change their master…”

She Banban stopped walking and looked at his son’s puzzled face: “You just need to understand this yourself—once you grasp this principle, you can sit quietly aside and watch rulers. They’re genuinely interesting, thinking themselves so mysterious and unfathomable, delighting in practicing this strange art of kingship day after day, yet to me they’re all singular and alike.

Naturally, however they change is their own business—it has nothing to do with you or me. Like today, when he asked me how to handle the Baiquan Mountain matter, and I ask you, why didn’t I answer his question? When it comes to matters of the martial world, from root to bone, I understand them a hundred times better than Meng Dingchen.”

Chen Dasheng naturally didn’t know, so he shook his head.

She Banban smiled, coughed once, then looked at Chen Dasheng and said: “My son, however many books I’ve read in this life, however long I live, however many generations of emperors I may yet serve, are all unknown. But from my understanding of emperors, I have only one sentence to give you, my son—for the rest of your life, your children and grandchildren must never forget it.”

Chen Dasheng placed both hands before him and bowed: “Yes!”

She Banban turned to look back at that corridor: “A gentleman keeps his talents hidden within himself, waiting for the right moment to act. Does my son understand?”

Chen Dasheng shook his head. She Banban patted his head: “My son, there are plenty of clever people in this world. Your father dares to use his own talents openly now—ha!—only because I no longer have mine. My being maimed earns me the world’s understanding and forgiveness, sparing me from jealousy, and so whether at the emperor’s side or beside anyone in power, your father is safe.

But when my son acts, you can only ever show six-tenths of your talent to those in power—otherwise those above you will grow fearful, uneasy, feeling you’ve read their mind, that you’ve thought of everything for them and done it all for them too—and that becomes your crime.

Simply put, when a ruler asks if you know how to handle something, aside from fully deploying whatever talent has already earned the ruler’s regard for you, making you irreplaceable to others, you must absolutely never become the ruler’s second blade! Otherwise you’ll be in danger—by then, even if the ruler doesn’t eliminate you, your colleagues will never allow you to stand beside the ruler either. Does my son remember this?”

Chen Dasheng’s eyes brightened slightly, and he too looked toward the corridor: “Understood—Fifth Brother Meng meddles too much!”

His adoptive father was worried sick over him—every time he spoke, he had to speak in riddles for him to guess.

She Banban felt an instant surge of satisfaction inside, though his face remained stern as he scolded: “Is ‘Fifth Brother’ something you get to call him? How rude!”

Chen Dasheng grunted, then slowly walked with his adoptive father toward the small courtyard. About reaching the courtyard gate, he suddenly remembered something and said candidly to She Banban: “I took two thousand taels of gold from your private treasury today.”

She Banban didn’t even pause his steps, only asking: “Is that enough?”

Chen Dasheng nodded: “Enough for this year. Not sure about next year.”

And so, the very next day, this father-figure had someone prepare another eight thousand taels of gold for his son’s private treasury.

He didn’t know what his son intended to do with it, but so long as his son wasn’t planning to overthrow the throne, everything else was merely a whetstone for his son’s growth.

To She Qingling, in this world all tools—money included—ranked among the lowest tier of instruments. That his son had only learned to use money to accomplish things in his twenties was already a late start.

By the time Chen Dasheng left the palace, the whole city was already under curfew, though such restrictions didn’t apply to someone like him. By the time he returned to his own guard post, it was already the first quarter of the Hai hour.

The moment he entered, he saw Guan Si’er smiling and nodding at him.

Chen Dasheng looked at him, then glanced behind himself, before asking: “Nothing disturbed over there?”

Their courtyard shared quarters with the Imperial Guard’s Rear Corps.

Guan Si’er shook his head: “Of course not. They’re all on full duty tonight, and I’ve sent our idle hands away too. I’ve checked everywhere myself—Fourth Brother and the others are keeping watch on the roof. Rest assured, Chief, there won’t be any accidental passersby eavesdropping.”

Chen Dasheng glanced up at the roof, then nodded and entered his own room. After changing into his guard’s uniform, he had Guan Si’er bring gold out from his private treasury, plate by plate.

Ten plates of two hundred taels each were brought out, piling up a whole table gleaming with gold. Both having weathered life-and-death situations, Guan Si’er, young as he was, wouldn’t so much as glance twice at that tabletop once the gold was set down.

He merely pulled up a chair to sit beside his blade and asked: “Chief, do we really need to go about this so roundabout a way?”

Hearing this, Chen Dasheng nodded: “Anything that can be settled with a single stroke of the blade is an inferior matter. Father always says, the difficult things of this world must be tackled while they’re still easy, and the great things of this world must be built from small details…” Seeing Guan Si’er didn’t understand, he patted his head and asked: “How far have you gotten in your lessons?”

Guan Si’er immediately looked troubled: “‘On the right, connecting to the Vast Interior; on the left, reaching Chengming’—I don’t even know what it means, the teacher just had me memorize it…”

The youngest brother looked utterly pained, and Chen Dasheng laughed, saying: “There’s plenty more to learn. These past days I’ve finally started to understand a bit of what makes a person, what real human feeling is! Oh, what that phrase meant just now—people in this world who talk about doing great things usually can’t accomplish them, while what eventually becomes a great achievement is built up from countless small things. You’re still young, no rush, we’ll take it one step at a time.”

The two brothers chatted idly like this, and around the last quarter of the Hai hour, two people arrived at the courtyard.

The one leading was none other than the currently prospering Tong Jintai, holding a horsewhip to lead the way, followed by someone wrapped head to toe in a large cloak.

Once the two had entered the room, Tong Jintai went with Guan Si’er to stand guard at the entrance to the guard post.

Once the door closed behind them, Ping Shen slowly removed his hood and looked straight ahead. At this single glance, he saw a tabletop of gold, estimated at two thousand taels, all ingots from the previous dynasty’s local officials.

Having done business traveling for ten years, two thousand taels of gold was small change to Ping Shen—he only glanced at it once, estimated its value, and shifted his gaze to the seat of honor.

Seated there was a fair-skinned, handsome young man in his early twenties, dressed in plain cloth.

Ping Shen’s pupils contracted, and he immediately bowed with a smile: “This lowly one had been guessing the whole way here who could possibly have such heaven-reaching influence to allow free passage through Yandu even after curfew—so it turns out to be young master.”

Chen Dasheng smiled, closed the book he’d been reading, and tossed it onto the table, asking: “Shopkeeper Ping, how was the scenery of Yandu at this hour of the night?”

Ping Shen glanced down and saw the book was actually an almanac?

Unable to fathom this young master’s intentions, he thought carefully about the question. Whether in the previous dynasty or the current one, this was the first time he’d seen the capital at the last quarter of the Hai hour.

How to put it—after the initial shock and astonishment came a wave of fear. A few days earlier, Ping Shen had received a letter, accompanied by special permit tokens for all the gambling houses and wrestling arenas in Yandu for the coming year.

And this kind of special permit was exactly the new item that every proprietor of pleasure houses, gambling dens, and businesses next year desperately wanted to obtain.

The token bore the character “Ping” on the front, and the number “ten” stamped on the back—meaning Ping Shen could use this token to pay commercial tax to the court for ten different businesses.

How large these businesses could be, of course, depended on how he operated them.

The previous dynasty had exempted merchants from taxes, yet merchants hadn’t liked the previous dynasty at all, precisely because there had been too many powerful local strongmen who could exploit merchants at will—far better to pay taxes to the court under the new dynasty’s laws, using this token.

These past few days he’d been wondering who had given him this token. He’d worked every connection he had, all the way to the Zheng family, all the way to several palace consorts, yet no one could guarantee getting hold of a special permit token—snatching something out of She Qingling’s hands?

How could that possibly be done!

For this token, tonight Ping Shen had obediently gotten into the carriage. That person had picked him up from a wrestling arena outside the city, and using a single waist token, had passed through Yandu’s three outer city gates all the way into the inner city.

Along the way, Ping Shen had lifted the carriage curtain to peek outside several times, his heart filled with nothing but shock and terror, terror…

Ping Shen bowed, his tone fawning and flattering: “The Hai hour in Yandu is truly magnificent beyond words! But I wonder why young master has summoned this humble one here tonight—what instructions do you have? Rest assured, whatever is within my power, I’ll accomplish it even if it means ruining my entire family fortune.”

Ever since She Qingling reformed the tax laws and introduced new commercial taxes, he had become the living patron saint of merchants throughout the realm.

Hearing this, Chen Dasheng laughed, pointing at the gold on the table and saying to Ping Shen: “Listen to you, as if I’m asking you to commit murder and arson. It’s nothing so serious—I just privately want you to help support someone.”

Ping Shen was slightly taken aback, then asked: “But may I ask, whom does young master wish to support?”