The two rode in silence. Wu Zhenzhen suddenly had an epiphany, remembering Wei Qingxun’s earlier words: “You instructed Wei Qingxun to submit a bid for the official land.”
Zhao Ai didn’t deny it, saying: “If you had come forward to buy so much official land, you would certainly have attracted attention, with more people becoming interested in your family background and experiences. In the future, if His Majesty orders the Censorate to thoroughly investigate the misdeeds of Li and Ding, you would likely be summoned to testify, facing great risk. I won’t let that happen. Wei Qingxun, with her vast family fortune and business empire, wouldn’t arouse suspicion no matter how much she bought. Having her do this for you is most appropriate—your goal is achieved while you remain uninvolved.”
“How did you persuade Wei Qingxun to cooperate with you?” Wu Zhenzhen asked.
“I simply reminded her that Li and Ding at most serve this one term as local officials, while I will be a prince for life. Offending me is more serious than offending them,” Zhao Ai said lightly. “She’s a shrewd businesswoman who naturally understands how to assess situations and seek advantage while avoiding harm.”
Wu Zhenzhen thought for a moment and asked: “Can you use those tax receipts of mine?”
Zhao Ai replied: “You’ve already helped me greatly by letting me know about those arbitrary tax categories. These past months I’ve frequently inspected various areas of Ningguo Prefecture and gotten to know many farmers and merchants. Knowing these categories, I can privately inquire and have them testify—it’s not difficult, and I don’t necessarily need to present your receipts before His Majesty.”
Wu Zhenzhen sighed: “You’ve done all these things yourself, making me completely useless.”
“How can you say that? You gave me these ideas and have already helped me immensely,” Zhao Ai said, showing a trace of a smile behind Wu Zhenzhen where she couldn’t see. “It seems that since we’ve known each other, we’ve been able to work together on many righteous causes, protecting and fulfilling each other… This is quite good.”
Wu Zhenzhen reflected carefully and realized that whether it was solving the fake venison problem, resolving the refugee crisis, or exposing the imperial banquet profiteering scheme, they had indeed unconsciously cooperated on many righteous causes. However… “My considerations are never thorough enough. I often cause trouble, and you’re always cleaning up after me,” she said to Zhao Ai with emotion.
“But if you hadn’t done those things, I might not have thought to do them, so we work well together,” Zhao Ai suddenly reined in his horse and changed direction. “Come, let me show you a place.”
He led Wu Zhenzhen northward, traveling over mountains and through waters for a long time. When the sun was setting in the west, they reached a lakeside where he stopped on a hilltop, pointing out to Wu Zhenzhen the collapsed and abandoned polder fields below, now overgrown with weeds: “This polder field is called Huimin Polder, first constructed during the Three Kingdoms period. Polder dikes can protect farmland from floods and droughts, but due to years of neglect and floods in recent years, they were washed away by floodwaters, causing farmland to be flooded, fields to become barren, tenant farmers to scatter, and people to have no means of livelihood.”
Wu Zhenzhen could see from the remaining polder dikes that this had originally been large and small square polder fields that, when connected, formed a vast square area as large as a city. But now the polder dikes were scattered, and the central farmland was either covered in withered grass or had become waterlogged hollows. Reflecting the blood-red setting sun, the scene appeared even more desolate.
“What you see now are mostly small polders and private polders built by landowners and farmers themselves. But to resist floods, the government must take action to build large polder dikes that surround these small private polders. Each official polder covers dozens of li, with dikes several zhang wide and more than one zhang high. Mulberry trees and willows are planted on top for reinforcement, making them solid and indestructible, capable of withstanding torrential floods,” Zhao Ai explained.
Wu Zhenzhen nodded: “Ningguo Prefecture has many marshes and riverbanks. Extensive polder construction would help farming and benefit both the country and the people. But Li Tang and Ding Xiyao are eager to show achievements to the court, seeking quick results without caring about polder construction. They only impose harsh taxes and levies to present surpluses, which is why you want to reclaim the prefecture’s governing rights from them.”
“Judging a prefecture” and “knowing a prefecture” both referred to prefecture governors, but when high-ranking officials concurrently held lower-ranking positions, it was called “judging,” while officials of the same rank serving in such positions were called “knowing.” Since Zhao Ai condescended from his princely status to serve as Ningguo Prefecture’s governor, he was called “Judging Ningguo Prefecture.”
“Yes, but this matter is quite difficult. Although the position of judging a prefecture isn’t high-ranking, imperial princes have traditionally only held nominal titles without real power, so Li and Ding act boldly and openly marginalize me,” Zhao Ai said with a slight bitter smile. “Father had me judge Ningguo Prefecture to send me away from the capital, far from the crown prince position. He probably never intended to give me real power in governing the prefecture, which is why he appointed a chancellor on the left and an administrator on the right—nominally staff assistants, but actually exercising full authority in my place. Now convincing His Majesty to grant me real power is quite difficult.”
“Don’t worry—didn’t we collect considerable evidence of their crimes?” Wu Zhenzhen turned to comfort him. “You can memorialize His Majesty about these matters. His Majesty is wise, and if he sympathizes with your love for the people, he will surely grant your request.”
Zhao Ai looked at her with a smile: “I’m preparing to write a memorial. Will you help me think about the wording?”
“My literary talent is truly limited—I can’t help with wording, but I can think about the reasoning,” Wu Zhenzhen said.
Zhao Ai smiled and spurred his horse again, taking Wu Zhenzhen to an inn near a nearby small town. The innkeeper obviously knew him well, immediately bowing and repeatedly calling “Judge Zhao” upon seeing him, inviting him and Wu Zhenzhen inside to sit.
The inn had three floors—the first floor was a restaurant, and the second and third floors were lodgings. The proprietor served wine and food, inviting Zhao Ai and Wu Zhenzhen to dine, then chatted with them. Wu Zhenzhen learned his surname was Gong. His family had originally been tenant farmers nearby, but when the polder fields were flooded and they couldn’t continue farming, his parents died in poverty, his brothers went elsewhere to make a living, and he himself was too weak to travel far. He had originally gone to the prefecture office seeking a position as a clerk, but was unsuccessful due to his age and poor health. Fortunately, he met Zhao Ai, who after conversing with him felt he had some business sense and knew of a building for rent in the area, so he personally lent him money to rent the place and open this establishment.
Proprietor Gong was deeply grateful to Zhao Ai and frequently praised him to Wu Zhenzhen. Besides his character and conduct, he also praised his appearance and talents effusively, as if trying to matchmake them, enthusiastically recommending him while looking at her, making Wu Zhenzhen quite embarrassed. Zhao Ai remained composed, smiling as he asked about recent business. Gong replied: “Thanks to the Judge’s blessing in finding me this good location, many people traveling between the east, west, and north to Ningguo Prefecture pass through here. There are quite a few guests stopping for meals and lodging. I estimate that in another year or two, I’ll be able to repay the Judge’s money and even add interest.”
After dinner, seeing that night had completely fallen, Wu Zhenzhen urged Zhao Ai to escort her home. Before Zhao Ai could answer, Proprietor Gong quickly said to Wu Zhenzhen: “It’s so late—traveling at night isn’t safe. Though my establishment is small, I do have several clean guest rooms. There’s an excellent large suite on the third floor that’s vacant tonight, perfect for the young lady to stay in.”
Wu Zhenzhen absolutely refused to stay, still insisting on going home, but looking at the ink-black night outside, she felt somewhat apprehensive. Seeing this, Zhao Ai said to her: “Mountain and wilderness roads aren’t like city streets. At night, if you mistakenly enter marshes or ponds, your life could be in danger. Why not stay here for a few hours? Once dawn breaks, I’ll escort you back.”
Wu Zhenzhen hesitated. Zhao Ai smiled and added: “Didn’t you say you’d help me consider the memorial’s content? Why don’t we complete it tonight? Besides, that room on the third floor overlooks the sunrise. When the sun rises in the east, ten thousand zhang of golden light spreading across the vast, boundless fields creates a soul-stirring magnificence. When we finish our discussion, we can enjoy the view.”
Considering the safety issues of night travel and having some longing for the scene Zhao Ai described, Wu Zhenzhen thought for a long while and finally agreed to stay, but demanded they only discuss the memorial, keep lights burning all night, and not lie down.
Zhao Ai readily agreed. Then Proprietor Gong led them upstairs. Zhao Ai went directly to the spacious suite, which indeed looked elegant and clean, with complete furnishings. Beyond the bed curtains, there was a writing desk with chairs, and all the scholarly implements were also provided.
Proprietor Gong served tea and sufficient candles, then bowed and withdrew, closing the door as he left. Wu Zhenzhen immediately went to open it. Seeing no one else on the third floor, Zhao Ai didn’t mind, smiling as he took paper and brush to begin composing the memorial.
He had obviously already fully conceived what to write and, after brief discussion with Wu Zhenzhen, immediately put brush to paper with flowing elegance, as if divinely inspired. He first detailed Li and Ding’s harsh taxation and lawless misconduct, then directly pointed to the problems of redundant officials: “Your subject was ordered to judge the prefecture, but now exclusively delegates to the Chancellor and Administrator, placing your subject in a useless position. Moreover, having three judges for one prefecture, your subject fears officials and people will compete in disorder, only creating disturbance.” He suggested the emperor clearly let him supervise the two officials and control Ningguo Prefecture’s final decision-making authority: “The Chancellor and Administrator should manage finances and legal affairs, drafting proposals for your subject to judge accordingly, thus ensuring upper and lower levels are at peace and affairs become easier to govern.”
After writing, he had Wu Zhenzhen review it. She also approved what he had written, so he said: “When Wei Qingxun delivers the official land contract, the memorial and the evidence I’ve collected can be submitted to His Majesty together. I hope His Majesty will adopt my counsel and, after dismissing Li and Ding, even if new Chancellor and Administrator are appointed, make them follow my lead exclusively.”
After putting away the memorial, Zhao Ai suggested Wu Zhenzhen rest briefly in the inner room, but Wu Zhenzhen kept shaking her head, absolutely refusing to lie down. Zhao Ai stopped persuading her and kept her company in desultory conversation. After a long while, Wu Zhenzhen could no longer hold out and dozed off leaning on the table. After sleeping hazily for a while, she suddenly heard Zhao Ai say: “Dawn is breaking.” Wu Zhenzhen immediately opened her eyes and looked out the window.
The sky was indeed gradually brightening, but for some reason, there was no red sun appearing at the horizon beyond the fields.
“Where’s the sun?” Wu Zhenzhen asked in confusion.
“Perhaps it’s blocked by clouds,” Zhao Ai said, pulling two chairs to the window. “Come sit here and wait—we should be able to see it soon.”
Wu Zhenzhen walked to the window and sat down. Zhao Ai also sat in the other chair, and they looked out side by side, quietly waiting for sunrise.
The blue tones between heaven and earth gradually faded, and the space outside the window began filling with daylight, but the red sun Wu Zhenzhen eagerly anticipated never appeared. She began to realize something was wrong and turned to face Zhao Ai with a stern expression: “The sky is completely bright—where’s the sunrise you mentioned?”
“Oh, I remembered wrong,” Zhao Ai said, meeting her gaze at close range and naturally reaching out to brush away a bit of fluff that the breeze outside had blown to her brow, saying matter-of-factly: “This room faces west.”
To get home as early as possible, Wu Zhenzhen was forced to ride the same horse with him again, letting him escort her back. But when they reached the village entrance, Wu Zhenzhen insisted on dismounting and walking quickly home by herself. Zhao Ai also dismounted, leading his horse and following behind her, escorting her all the way.
Soon villagers saw them. Since Zhao Ai had inspected the area many times before, some recognized him, calling out: “Isn’t that Judge Zhao!”
The village immediately became lively. Passersby gathered around to bow and greet Zhao Ai, and people who had been at home also opened doors and windows upon hearing the voices, all enthusiastically competing to call out “Judge Zhao” or “Prince Wei.” Zhao Ai smiled and continued following Wu Zhenzhen, occasionally nodding in response to the people’s calls.
Everyone noticed he was traveling with Wu Zhenzhen, and someone directly asked: “Is Judge Zhao going to Lady Song’s house?”
Wu Zhenzhen silently groaned, while Zhao Ai maintained his smile and calmly answered: “I encountered Lady Song on the road and am escorting her home.”
Everyone felt this “encounter” was not simple, but they all wore knowing smiles, indicating they understood, and greeted him even more enthusiastically: “Then Judge Zhao should sit at Lady Song’s house for a while longer—don’t rush back!”
These words made Wu Zhenzhen feel like she had thorns in her back. With great difficulty, she reached her own courtyard gate and immediately ordered Zhao Ai to stop. Zhao Ai smiled and asked: “After escorting you such a long way, won’t you invite me in to sit?”
Wu Zhenzhen said coldly: “This will ruin my reputation.”
“Anyway, you don’t seem to be planning to marry, so whether your reputation is a bit better or worse seems to make no difference. If your reputation is destined to be ruined by someone someday, I hope that person is me,” Zhao Ai said with a smile, seeming to recover the joy and confidence from when he first met her years ago.
Before turning to leave, his smile faded as he said to her seriously: “From now on, no one should dare to have designs on you.”