After the snow, the skies had just cleared. Under the eaves of the Jizhou Prefecture office hung fine bamboo blinds to block the wind. Through the narrow gaps, a few budding branches of winter plum could faintly be seen in the courtyard.

From within the main hall came the low murmur of conversation, while beneath the corridor and steps, guards stood in formation like flying geese—armored, weapons in hand, faces stern.

Just then, the sound of clashing weapons came from beyond the gates.

“Who dares trespass into Jizhou Prefecture!”

Hearing the commotion outside, some of the inner-court guards remained at their posts guarding the council hall, while others took up their spears and halberds and rushed to support those at the gate.

But the ones who came were also a troop of iron-clad soldiers, armed with spears and halberds. A Jizhou soldier was kicked flying by the leading general clad in scaled armor.

The man raised eyes filled with murderous intent. “He Jingyuan, get your ass out here!”

The officials of Jizhou who came out from the council hall at the noise all showed looks of shock upon seeing him.

Only Zheng Wenchang shouted sharply, “Audacious! How dare you address the lord by name!”

Wei Xuan sneered, not even sparing him a glance. As he advanced toward the hall with sword in hand, Zheng Wenchang’s waist blade had already been drawn three inches from its sheath.

Just as the two were about to clash, a calm and weighty voice came from within the hall.

“Wenchang, stand down.”

Zheng Wenchang turned his head slightly to look back. Though he returned his sword to its sheath, his glare toward Wei Xuan remained filled with fury.

Wei Xuan’s lips curled in a smirk. He lifted his sword and swung straight at Zheng Wenchang. The latter hastily dodged, and the civil officials nearby, startled by the sudden violence, scattered in panic—utterly disheveled.

“The eldest young master comes to my place merely to trouble the officials under my governance?” He Jingyuan spoke at last from the seat of honor, looking down at the man below, a trace of disappointment flickering in his eyes.

It was true that Wei Yan monopolized power, but in the decade or so since he took control, the entire post-war Great Yin dynasty had only managed to recuperate under his rule. Though suspicious by nature, he was also remarkably adept at employing capable men.

How had the son of Wei Yan become such a rash, arrogant fool, brave without wisdom and hungry for glory?

Wei Xuan caught that look in his eyes, and his rage burned hotter—like a hyena baring its blood-stained fangs. He pointed his sword at Zheng Wenchang.

“Even your mangy dog dares bark at this general, what’s next? Or is it that you, He Jingyuan, have already ceased to place the Wei family in your eyes?”

He Jingyuan replied, “The Chancellor has shown He great kindness. I guard Jizhou by his command, how could I not hold the Wei family in esteem?”

He raised his gaze slightly. “Unless… the Eldest Young Master means that He does not hold you in esteem?”

That single line stoked Wei Xuan’s temper to a furious blaze. His face twisted viciously.

“How dare you! Men, seize him and throw him in the dungeon!”

The armored guards behind him stepped forward, but Zheng Wenchang and the other military officers all drew their blades, blocking their way. For a moment, the two sides stood at sword’s edge.

He Jingyuan’s tone remained calm.

“I am a third-rank official of the court. Even if the Eldest Young Master wishes to imprison me, he must first present an imperial decree.”

Wei Xuan gave a cold laugh.

“The great war is imminent, yet you obstruct military affairs. That crime alone is enough for this general to execute first and report later!”

He Jingyuan asked evenly, “And what military matter has He obstructed?”

Wei Xuan, livid, flung his arm and pointed outside.

“The soldiers of Huizhou fight and bleed on the front line, and their supplies are running dry. Tai and Ji Prefectures were ordered to levy grain, yet not only did you defy the military command—you even detained the officers I sent to collect it! He Jingyuan, are you so eager to see Huizhou fall to the rebels as well?”

He Jingyuan said simply, “The defeats the Eldest Young Master suffers in battle should not be borne by the common people. If Huizhou merely defends, it can hold out until the court’s grain arrives. Your haste to levy grain stems only from your desire to launch another campaign against Chongzhou. As for the lives of the people of both prefectures, does the Eldest Young Master care nothing for them?”

Wei Xuan roared, “How could I fail to collect grain? It is only that those lowly peasants refuse to hand it over! Didn’t Taizhou also claim it couldn’t raise grain before? Yet in the end, didn’t they still gather a hundred thousand shi?”【shi: an ancient unit of grain measurement】

Mention Taizhou and He Jingyuan’s expression turned grave. He snapped, “They killed people, seized next year’s seed grain to use as military provisions — is that the ‘levying grain’ the Eldest Young Master speaks of?”

Wei Xuan replied coldly, “So long as we annihilate the rebels, the entire northwest can recuperate. A momentary hardship exchanged for long-term benefit, what is wrong with that?”

He Jingyuan asked him, “Does the Eldest Young Master know how many lives that ‘momentary hardship’ you speak of will cost in the two prefectures of Tai and Ji? When word reaches the capital, how many literati and officials will take up their pens to denounce the Chancellor?”

Wei Xuan’s face contorted: “Once the rebels are wiped out, what does any of that count for? Now that the rebels know Huizhou’s supply line is cut off, they cannot in the short term coordinate with Chongzhou; their guard will be lowered. If I hurry the troops and strike while they are unprepared — with military merit, all dissenting voices will be buried!”

He Jingyuan sighed deeply. “Eldest Young Master, hear a word of counsel from your subordinate: this realm belongs to the people of Great Yin; it is not yet at the brink of ruin. Do not force the people to such an extent and chill the hearts of the realm’s commoners.”

Wei Xuan snorted coldly. “Womanly compassion!”

He added harshly, “If you continue to obstruct, I shall, by the authority of a military commissioner, seize your official seal!”

He Jingyuan regarded him steadily for a long moment, then lifted his hand and took off the official hat from his head. “Then the Eldest Young Master should take back this subordinate’s seal.”

Zheng Wenchang and the other officials rushed out, shouting, “My lord, you must not!”

Wei Xuan, stubborn and temperamental, least able to bear provocation, laughed coldly then. “Court ministers all say Xie Zheng is the pillar of the northwest — without him, isn’t the northwest doing well now? He Jingyuan, you really think I dare not seize your seal? You hold yourself in far too high regard!”

He stepped forward and took from the writing table the great seal of the Jizhou governor, raised it high in his hand, and, staring at He Jingyuan, commanded the prefecture officials as if taunting them: “Immediately levy grain for this general. If by noon tomorrow you have not produced one hundred thousand shi of grain, bring your heads!”

The officials below exchanged glances, all showing reluctant expressions.

He Jingyuan, seated at the head, closed his eyes heavily.

· ─ ·✶· ─ · 

When the news of another grain levy reached Lin’an Town, the townsfolk all wailed in misery; Fan Changyu herself did not know the reason.

She had gone to the county to deliver meat to the fat shopkeeper and to the Yixiang Tower when she heard that Jizhou’s leadership had changed — that the fair magistrate surnamed He had been removed and placed under guard, and that crowds of townsfolk from the Jizhou main city had gone to make a disturbance at the entrance of the Jizhou prefectural office and over a hundred had been thrown into the prison.

Under the strict suppression of the soldiers, the people no longer dared make a scene, but the amount of grain the government was levying from household to household was astonishing.

Even after the farmers brought out their seed grain, it still did not meet a family’s quota of military grain to be handed over.

The soldiers’ solution was simple: if grain was insufficient, then pay money.

No money? Whether borrowing or robbing, the government did not care; they merely kept up the pressure.

Many farmers, driven to despair, simply turned to banditry.

The soldiers were bullies who feared the strong: they swaggered and displayed their weapons before the unarmed commoners, but when it came to mountain bandits, they avoided provoking them if they could.

Unable to collect sufficient grain from the farmers and unable to squeeze money from them, the soldiers began going house to house in town to extort funds from merchants.

Each household was charged by headcount — one tael of silver per person; Fan Changyu’s family had to pay three taels.

The townspeople were all aghast. In previous levies of soldiers, only two taels could exempt a person, but now the cost of this grain levy exceeded that of conscription. Especially for impoverished families with many children, it was driving them to the brink.

One household in town went straight to buy arsenic, and in front of the soldiers mixed it with water so that each family member had one bowl, openly declaring they had neither money nor grain; if the pressure continued, they would have no choice but to die together and end it all.

Fan Changyu now had a way to earn money, so paying these three taels of silver was not a problem for her. But there were many families in town who were as she once was—no matter how they emptied their households, they still could not produce such a sum.

The commoners began to gather of their own accord, kneeling long and motionless before the county yamen, yet the magistrate did not even show his face.

Hearing such news again and again, Fan Changyu felt her heart grow heavier and heavier.

That evening, holding The Analects in her hands, she could not read a single line. Turning her head toward Xie Zheng, she saw him holding a brush, writing annotations upon a book page. His expression was calm, undisturbed, as if nothing in the world could affect him.

She pressed her lips together and said, “This round of the government’s grain levy—truly, they no longer see the people as human.”

Xie Zheng’s brush did not pause. He merely said, “The government will not truly collect grain money at one tael of silver per head.”

There was an almost imperceptible coldness in his voice.

Fan Changyu was puzzled. “How could they not? Weren’t those government soldiers themselves going door to door to collect it?”

After finishing his note, Xie Zheng set down his brush for the time being. “Jizhou Prefecture has two hundred thousand households—eight hundred thousand people. At one tael of silver per person, that would be eight hundred thousand taels in total. Last autumn, during the harvest, a shi of grain cost no more than seven or eight hundred wen. Even with the war, the market price now hasn’t exceeded one tael per shi. Eight hundred thousand taels of silver could buy at least eight hundred thousand shi of rice. Yet this round of front-line grain requisition is only for emergency supply—they could not possibly need that much grain.”

As he spoke, a chilling glint flickered in his dark eyes.

Wei Xuan might be as foolish as a pig, but even he would not forcibly levy eight hundred thousand shi of grain from Jizhou.

His rush to collect grain was nothing more than an attempt to launch an attack on Chongzhou before Wei Yan stripped him of his command—catching them unprepared after the war and salvaging his standing.

Until the court’s grain supplies arrived, only two hundred thousand shi were needed to sustain them.

Ten thousand shi had already been taken from Taizhou; Jizhou needed only another ten thousand shi.

To forcibly seize eight hundred thousand—how was that any different from outright plunder?

Push the people to the brink, and they might rise in rebellion; they might even turn to the rebel king of neighboring Chongzhou.

Hearing his calculation, Fan Changyu too found the government’s levy absurd beyond reason, yet she remained confused. “But it really was the soldiers who came themselves to demand the money. Surely they wouldn’t dare collect more on purpose?”

Xie Zheng said, “The soldiers dare not, but those above them may not be so restrained.”

Corruption had long been commonplace in the court. When the Ministry of Works repaired roads or built canals, or when relief funds were issued, the silver sent from the national treasury would be shaved away layer by layer by officials high and low, until only a meager trace remained to reach its intended purpose.

Tax collection was no different. The court’s tax rate was strict law, which the lower officials dared not alter; if they wished to fill their own pockets, they could only overcharge the people in the form of increased commercial or grain taxes.

Fan Changyu was no fool. Hearing this, she clenched her palms tightly. “You mean—it could be the magistrate, or even officials above him, who are fattening themselves off the people’s blood and sweat?”

Xie Zheng said, “Look at how much the other counties are levying for military grain. Would that not make it clear?”

Fan Changyu said, “Tomorrow, when I go to the county to make deliveries, I’ll see if I can meet anyone from another county. If I do, I’ll ask.”

If other counties were not collecting as much, then the magistrate of Qingping County was using this levy to line his own pockets!

Xie Zheng nodded silently.

Fan Changyu was already yawning, but he once more lifted his brush, seemingly intent on continuing his annotations.

Fan Changyu looked at his cool, clear profile under the candlelight and couldn’t help but say, “Don’t write too late. It hurts your eyes, continue tomorrow.”

Xie Zheng gave a quiet “Mm,” yet his brush did not stop.

He had thought He Jingyuan would be able to keep Wei Xuan in check—never did he expect that He Jingyuan would instead be subdued by him.

Pondering the cause, a trace of mockery flickered in his cold, dark eyes.

The two hundred thousand shi of rice Zhao Xun had purchased had already been taken over by his men. He Jingyuan’s people could not trace it and must have suspected it was his doing—so they deliberately let Wei Xuan act unchecked, hoping to force him to reveal himself?

So this was the so-called “benevolent general who loved the people as his own children.” Nothing more than that.

His death had been reported for so long, and the entire northwest had since fallen into chaos. At such a critical juncture, he could not allow the Beijue people to exploit the situation—he had to return.

As his brush wrote out upright, square characters, the corner of his eye caught sight of her shadow cast across the desk. His clear voice broke the quiet: “Your birthday is this month. What do you want?”

Fan Changyu made a soft “Ah,” then realized what he meant. “I appreciate your kindness, but my parents passed away just before the new year. I won’t celebrate my birthday this year.”

Xie Zheng’s brush paused slightly. “Then make a wish instead—consider it a birthday gift for the years to come.”

Fan Changyu said, “Why does that sound strange? A gift for future birthdays can wait until the future—why now…”

She stopped midway. Looking again at the dense notes he had written across the book’s pages, the smile on her face slowly faded.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?”