Chapter Twelve: Another Audit

[Thanks to the reader Mighty Dad for the generous tip~ Also, an announcement: tomorrow I’ll be asking for recommendation votes. If the votes reach eighty, there’ll be an extra chapter! If we hit one hundred and fifty, yet another chapter will be added! My word is my bond! For this final week’s push on the New Book Rankings, I’ll give it my all!]

If a newcomer witnessed this scene, they might truly believe that Chu Lushan had simply dozed off in his chamber and wasn’t called for. But Zhu Cilang was already well-versed in this kind of feigned ignorance, a trick he’d played countless times back in the capital. Now, facing it himself, he only sneered inwardly.

Zhu Cilang cut Chu Lushan off sternly, “But I believe the Subdivision of the Ministry of Revenue under your charge is not staffed by fools. For example, this Yan Wei just now—having the courage to stop an unidentified person is commendable and deserving of reward. As for whether I, Qin, am the genuine article, the official documents and seals of the court will suffice as proof.”

As Zhu Cilang spoke, the sharp-eyed Old Seventeenth deftly drew from his robes an appointment decree issued by the Ministry of Personnel.

Then, like a magician, Si Qi publicly helped Zhu Cilang into his official attire.

A black gauze cap, a blue right-lapped court robe, and a simple silver belt cinched at the waist—the aura of an imperial official instantly transformed the expressions of all present.

“So hurried a handover—could it be that something momentous has happened in court?” Chu Lushan, unable to hide his reluctance, fixed his gaze on Zhu Cilang, his heart simmering with irritation.

The Linqing Revenue Division was a lucrative post. In the first year of Tianqi, it had remitted an enormous sum of five hundred thousand taels of tax silver to the national treasury. Now, though Linqing’s division remained the premier of the eight great customs checkpoints, the remittance had dropped to a mere hundred thousand taels, and this was celebrated as a great achievement. The censors praised it as benevolent governance, a respite for the people. Soon after, countless official vessels from Jiangnan, along with an untold number of civilian crafts, began to disregard the checkpoint altogether.

Every year, those running the Linqing Revenue Division knew exactly how much was collected and how much was actually turned over to the treasury. The reduced remittance hardly meant less was collected from passing boats—everyone knew this. And as for where the missing silver went, the entire division knew better than anyone.

Even the court was not blind to this. Thus, the post of head at Linqing’s division lasted only a year at a time—sometimes filled by Ministry of Revenue officials, sometimes by censors, sometimes by local magistrates.

Naturally, securing the position of head took considerable effort and no small ambition—Chu Lushan had wanted to make a fortune. He’d only been in office half a year, just as he was hitting his stride and the profits were starting to flow, and now he was being replaced. No wonder he was unwilling to let go.

In fact, Chu Lushan had been well informed. He knew that after receiving his appointment, Zhu Cilang had lingered in the capital for half a month before departing in early April, busy with various affairs. This gave Chu Lushan reason to relax and focus on his final haul.

After all, the journey from Tongzhou down to Linqing by boat would take at least ten days, especially for a large retinue such as Zhu Cilang's.

Who could have expected this!

Staring at Zhu Cilang, resplendent in official garb, Chu Lushan’s feelings were tangled—faintly uneasy, even. This man had caused such a stir in the capital, creating an uproar. Now that he’d arrived in Linqing, could he be coming directly for me?

Though these thoughts swirled with weighty implications, they flashed by in an instant. Chu Lushan finished speaking and fixed Zhu Cilang with a steady, formidable gaze.

Zhu Cilang met him with easy composure, eyes half-closed as he replied, “Even if nothing urgent has happened at court, can I not arrive early? Please examine my credentials, Lord Chu. I believe the handover can begin today.”

“In such haste…” Chu Lushan drew a slow breath, bared his teeth, and said, “Of course I have no objections. But if the handover is rushed and problems arise later, I take no responsibility!”

“Agreed!” Zhu Cilang answered briskly.

“You there, seal the records, close the doors! Prepare for the handover!” With that, Chu Lushan turned and strode into the inner hall.

No one noticed as Chu Lushan glanced at a thin man within and gave a slight nod, a flash of coldness in his eyes: “If I don’t let you taste my power, you’ll never know how many eyes the Horse King has!”

As Chu Lushan gave his orders, clerks and accountants hidden moments before suddenly sprang into action—some closing doors, others sealing account books.

In the main hall—the most important place in the entire Revenue Division—the accumulated documents were many indeed. In no time, some twenty or thirty clerks poured in.

Yet all of them, as if by unspoken agreement, kept a full five paces from Zhu Cilang, as though only such distance could guarantee their safety.

Zhu Cilang merely smiled faintly, letting it pass, and then turned his gaze to Yan Wei, who was just shifting his position, striding over at a measured pace.

Yan Wei, seeing his colleagues finally surge into the hall, felt a wave of relief. With Chu Lushan now drawing Zhu Cilang’s attention, he, a mere minor clerk, could finally relax. Yet as the one who had triggered the incident—right or wrong—he dared not flee.

Now, with the crowd as cover, he summoned the courage to slip away.

But just as Yan Wei was about to make his move, Zhu Cilang approached him with a smile. Yan Wei instantly froze, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind, all boiling down to a single question: “Is it still too late to beg for mercy on my knees?”

By then, Zhu Cilang had already reached him, stopped, glanced casually at him, and said gently, “Uphold justice impartially. Remember this from today forth.”

Yan Wei stammered, “I wouldn’t dare forget, even at the cost of my life…”

Zhu Cilang smiled, “Then do your work well. I, too, was once a lowly clerk.”

With that, Zhu Cilang strode away toward the inner hall, leaving the numerous clerks in the main hall stunned, pondering his words. Especially the younger ones like Yan Wei, whose minds raced with countless imaginings.

The main hall, in fact, was merely the public court; Chu Lushan didn’t actually conduct his business there. Past a broad courtyard, further inside, lay the inner hall—Chu Lushan’s real office. To the left and right were the study, the clerks’ office, the patrol room—all part of the Revenue Division’s working quarters.

Zhu Cilang gave only a cursory glance at the other halls before following Chu Lushan into the inner hall.

There, Chu Lushan gestured for Zhu Cilang to sit, but remained standing himself, back straight, watching as the clerks carried in stacks of account books.

“How does Lord Qin Xia wish to conduct the handover? Let’s set the procedure now,” Chu Lushan said, his smile all skin and no warmth, his attitude visibly sour.

Zhu Cilang looked at the hundreds of ledgers already piled up, unsure what to make of it all.