Spoiled and mad critic of powerful ministers

In the secret room, Shen Qiongju, wearing a fox fur coat, was hunched over her desk.

Du Hengniang grabbed a handful of millet and fed it to the carrier pigeons in the cage.

"The heads of the thirteen merchant guilds have all received the secret letter." Du Hengniang clapped her hands. "They did exactly as you said, sweeping up all the winter provisions around the capital at high prices. They even raided the black market outside the city."

Shen Qiongju picked up her brush and drew an X on the rice paper.

"That's not enough." Shen Qiongju didn't even look up. "Have the beggars in the north of the city spread the word. Say that General Fu suffered a great defeat in Liangzhou and that the Tartars are about to attack the capital. Once the city gates are closed, no one can escape."

Du Hengniang raised an eyebrow: "You're cutting off the emperor's escape route. If the people panic, the sky will really fall."

"If he doesn't die, my daughter will never come back." Shen Qiongju put down her pen, her eyes as cold as ice. She stuffed the secret letter she had written into a bamboo tube. "Let them go."

Within just half a month, the capital was in chaos.

First, the price of grain rose three times a day, soaring from two taels of silver per shi (a unit of dry measure) to six taels, and then to eight taels. Rice shops were crowded with people scrambling for grain; some lined up before dawn, and others fought over half a sack of coarse rice. The yamen runners of Shuntian Prefecture were unable to control the situation, and incidents of smashing and looting rice shops began to occur on the streets.

Panic spread like wildfire. In teahouses and taverns, everyone was talking about the battle in Liangzhou. Some said General Fu had been killed in action, others said the Tartar cavalry could cover three hundred li in a single night. The rumors grew more and more outrageous, until finally even the news that "the capital city is about to be sealed off" emerged.

Wealthy families began to flee the city gates, with carriages coming one after another, blocking two entire streets.

The officials in the Ministry of Revenue were as anxious as ants on a hot pan.

The Minister had a blister on his lip, and it hurt terribly to the touch. He spent the entire night calculating on his abacus, and the result sent chills down his spine—the national treasury's silver reserves weren't even enough to pay a month's wages to the border troops, let alone stabilize grain prices or procure military provisions.

Fengtian Temple.

The atmosphere at the morning court session was so oppressive that it was hard to breathe.

The emperor slammed a memorial into the face of the Minister of Revenue. The bamboo and wooden cover struck his forehead, leaving a red mark.

"Useless! What use are you to me!" The emperor rose from his dragon throne, the hem of his robe sweeping across the imperial desk, knocking over a cup of hot tea. The tea splashed, soaking the hems of the robes of several ministers in the front row, but none dared to move.

The emperor's eyes were bloodshot, as if he hadn't slept for many days. His chest heaved violently as his gaze swept across the faces of the court officials, finally settling on that scarlet figure.

Pei Zhihui stood at the head of the civil officials, his scarlet court robe spotless, the jade belt around his waist accentuating his slender figure. His eyes were lowered, his right hand wrapped in a white gauze, tucked into his sleeve, revealing only a few long, slender, fair fingertips.

The hall was deathly silent.

"Chief Minister Pei," the emperor's voice was hoarse, tinged with barely suppressed anger, "what brilliant idea do you have?"

Pei Zhihui slowly stepped forward, the hem of his scarlet official robe brushing against the gold brick floor, making a soft rustling sound.

He knelt upright, his back straight.

"Your Majesty, please calm down." His voice was as calm as still water. "The national treasury is empty, but the capital is not short of silver."

The emperor narrowed his eyes and stared intently at him.

Pei Zhihui raised his eyelids, his peach blossom eyes appearing particularly deep in the dim light of the hall: "Your Majesty, I have confirmed that seven people, including Minister Li of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices, Minister Zhang of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices, and Right Councilor Zhou of the Court of Transmission, have been secretly hoarding grain and profiteering, colluding with thirteen merchants outside the city to siphon off all the grain and fodder from the capital region into their private granaries, making a fortune from the national crisis."

His voice wasn't loud, but every word was clear.

"The silver stored in the homes of these seven families alone is equivalent to the taxes levied over three years of the Great Sheng Dynasty."

A collective gasp filled the hall.

The faces of the senior officials whose names were mentioned changed drastically. Li Chong'an, the Minister of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices, immediately stepped forward and knelt on the ground with a thud: "Your Majesty, please see the truth! I am innocent! Pei Zhihui is slandering me—"

"I have an account book as proof," Pei Zhihui said calmly, pulling a thin account book from his sleeve and presenting it with both hands. "Please, Your Majesty, take a look."

The chief eunuch beside the emperor quickly descended the imperial steps, took the account book, and presented it to the emperor with both hands.

The emperor opened the account book and read through it page by page, his face growing increasingly grim. It was filled with detailed records of every grain transaction, including the quantity of grain entering and leaving, the time of each transaction, the names of the people involved, and even the locations of the warehouses where the grain was stored.

These people were all veteran royalists who had always opposed the new policies.

The emperor closed the account book, his knuckles turning white from gripping it so tightly.

He knew, of course, that Pei Zhihui was using someone else to do his dirty work. This young Grand Secretary had been systematically eliminating his political opponents since the day he entered the cabinet. First, he used the imperial examination scandal to purge the Ministry of Personnel, and then he used the salt administration scandal to take away several key positions in the Ministry of Revenue. Now, this move was aimed directly at the core of the royalist party.

But the emperor had no other choice.

With the war at the front lines intensifying and supplies running low at the rear, a mutiny was imminent in the capital. He needed silver, he needed grain, and even more so, he needed a few heads to quell public discontent.

"Investigate." The emperor uttered a single word, his voice chilling to the bone. "Where is the Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard?"

"Your subject is here."

"Immediately lead men to search the homes of these seven people. If there is evidence—"

The emperor paused, his gaze sweeping over Pei Zhihui before returning to the few trembling old ministers.

"Confiscate their property and send them to jail."

That night, the Imperial Guards were dispatched in all directions.

Torches illuminated half of the capital. Screams and cries echoed through the night sky.

Pei Zhihui sat in the inner cabinet office, listening to the commotion outside, a cold smile curling at the corner of his lips.

On the outskirts of the city, at Shilipo.

Dozens of horse-drawn carriages covered with black cloth were parked in the woods.

Pei An directed his assassins to load heavy boxes of silver and bags of fine rice onto the carriage.

This is half of what was obtained from the confiscation of property.

"Use the canal transport route secretly," Pei An said in a low voice, "send it directly to the northern border and hand it over to General Fu."

The carriage silently disappeared into the night.

The emperor thought the confiscated money could solve his immediate crisis, but little did he know that the lifeblood of the Great Sheng Dynasty was being drained by Pei Zhihui and Shen Qiongju, continuously supplied to the sword that was about to strike at imperial power.

The Cold Palace.

The three-year-old Ninth Prince, dressed in ill-fitting old clothes, squatted in the snow.

A young eunuch stood behind him, whispering something.

"Did you remember?" the little eunuch asked.

The Ninth Prince nodded, his eyes displaying a composure beyond his years.

The Imperial Garden.

The emperor was in a bad mood and took a walk in the garden with his chief eunuch.

From behind the artificial hill, the sound of a child reading aloud could be heard.

The emperor stopped and walked over.

The Ninth Prince held a tattered copy of the Classic of Filial Piety, his little face red from the cold, yet he read with utmost seriousness. His fingers were swollen like carrots from chilblains.

"What are you doing?" the emperor asked in a deep voice.

The Ninth Prince raised his head, saw the Emperor, and knelt down to kowtow respectfully. His movements were precise and without the slightest sign of panic.

"Your Majesty, I am praying for your well-being." The Ninth Prince's voice was clear and melodious. "The nanny said that Your Majesty is working hard for the country, and I cannot help you. I can only read the Classic of Filial Piety more often and pray to God to bless Your Majesty with good health."

The emperor was stunned.

Looking at his son, whom he had forgotten in the cold palace for many years, a strange emotion suddenly arose in his heart.

"Get up," the emperor said, his tone softening.

The Ninth Prince stood up and very naturally hid his frozen little hands behind his back.

This action reignited the emperor's paranoia.

Upon returning to the Hall of Mental Cultivation, the emperor immediately issued an order.

"Investigate," the emperor said to the chief eunuch. "Who is teaching him to read in the Cold Palace?"

The chief eunuch accepted the order and left.

Cabinet Office.

Pei An knelt on one knee.

"My lord, the Emperor's men have gone to investigate the Cold Palace."

Pei Zhihui picked up his teacup and skimmed off the foam.

"Have the clues been placed properly?"

"They're all in order. They all point to the remnants of the Wei faction from the previous dynasty," Pei An replied.

Pei Zhihui took a sip of tea.

"The Wei faction wants to support the Ninth Prince's restoration." Pei Zhihui put down his teacup. "This is the crime the Emperor likes best."

three days later.

The imperial court was shaken.

The chief eunuch discovered that the junior eunuch who was instructing the Ninth Prince was a spy planted in the palace by remnants of the Wei faction.

The emperor was furious.

He hated nothing more than others coveting his throne.

"Kill!" the emperor roared in the court. "Better to kill a thousand innocent people than let one guilty person go free!"

The butcher's knife was raised again.

Pei Zhihui, as the chief minister, personally took charge of the case.

Holding the emperor's edict, he added all the last remaining upright officials in the court who might hinder his rebellion to the list of accomplices of Wei's faction.

In the imperial prison, blood flowed like a river.

The wails never ceased, day and night.

Those who once pointed at Pei Zhihui's nose and called him a treacherous minister are now all dead.

The dissenting voices in the imperial court were completely silenced.

Pei Zhihui stood at the exit of the imperial prison, looking out at the pale winter sky.

He raised his hand and looked at his long, slender, fair hands.

These hands were covered in blood.

But he doesn't care.

For Shen Qiongju, for Nian'an, he would kill everyone in the world.

He turned around and gave an order to Pei An.

"The court is now clean," Pei Zhihui said in an extremely cold voice. "Tell the Northern Border to prepare to close the net."

New Year's Eve.

Heavy snow fell in the capital.

The sounds of firecrackers rose and fell, masking the undercurrents surging beneath the surface of the city.

The secret room in the main courtyard.

The earthen ceiling was burning very warmly.

Shen Qiongju leaned against the couch, holding an account book in her hand.

The door was pushed open.

Pei Zhihui walked in, bringing with him a chilling aura.

He took off his cloak, warmed his hands in front of the brazier, and then walked to the bedside.

"Stop looking." Pei Zhihui snatched the account book from her hand. "Tonight is New Year's Eve."

Shen Qiongju looked at him.

He had lost weight. His chin was sharp, and there was an undeniable weariness in his eyes. But his gaze was brighter than ever.

Pei Zhihui took an object out of his pocket and handed it to Shen Qiongju.

It was a string of sandalwood tigers that I had carved myself.

It was polished to an extremely smooth finish, without a single burr.

Shen Qiongju was stunned.

"It's for Nian'an." Pei Zhihui sat down next to her and put the little tiger in her hand. "I'm clumsy, it's not very good."

Shen Qiongju held the string of little tigers in her hand.

She knew how busy he had been lately. During the day, he dealt with the emperor in court, and at night he had to handle various clandestine intelligence.

His right hand was wrapped in white gauze, a wound from when he crushed the teacup. The wound hadn't fully healed, and blood had seeped through the gauze as he worked to carve this piece of hardwood.

Shen Qiongju touched the roughness of his hands, and her eyes instantly reddened.

"It looks very nice." Shen Qiongju lowered her head, her voice a little hoarse.

Pei Zhihui reached out and pulled her into his arms.

Shen Qiongju leaned obediently on his shoulder.

The room was quiet. The only sound was the faint echo of firecrackers outside.

"The spies have sent word." Pei Zhihui rested his chin on the top of her head, his voice very soft, "Nian'an can turn over now. Madam Liu dotes on her and has made her many new clothes."

Shen Qiongju closed her eyes, and tears silently streamed down her face.

Pei Zhihui.

"Um."

"Spring is here, let's go pick her up and take her home."

"Alright." Pei Zhihui tightened his arms. "Once the snow melts and things settle down, I will personally go to pick her up. I want her to be the legitimate eldest daughter of the Pei family."

Shen Qiongju wrapped her arms around his waist.

"You promised me, you can't go back on your word."

"I swore an oath." Pei Zhihui kissed her forehead.

The two embraced on the couch.

On this New Year's Eve, they had no dumplings, no staying up all night, only each other.

The wind and snow outside the window gradually stopped.

The darkness before dawn is always the longest.

But they all knew that dawn was approaching.

The fifth day of the first lunar month.

A clap of thunder in spring cleaved the gloomy sky over the capital.

The fast horse, traveling at an urgent speed of eight hundred li, burst through the city gates and headed straight for the palace.

The courier tumbled off his horse, holding up a blood-stained battle report, his voice filled with sorrow.

"Report! General Fu of the Northern Frontier... has rebelled!"

Inside the main hall, the teacup in the emperor's hand shattered with a crash.

"Bang!"

A shard of porcelain flew up and cut the cheek of an imperial censor in the front row.

The censor scrambled back, covering his face and daring not to utter a sound.

Inside the Fengtian Hall, there was a deathly silence.

"Rebellion?!" The emperor abruptly stood up, the hem of his dragon robe trembling violently. His eyes were bloodshot as he stared intently at the kneeling courier. "Fu Chuan'ang has received imperial favor for generations! How dare he rebel?!"

The courier was covered in blood, and kowtowed three times, his voice hoarse and broken.

"Your Majesty! General Fu has executed the supervising eunuch in Liangzhou, raising the banner of 'purging the emperor's corrupt advisors.' Thirty thousand troops from the capital have already defected and are joining forces with the Zhenbei Army. They have blocked all official roads north of Liangzhou, vowing to march on the capital... and execute the treacherous minister!"

The courtiers were in uproar.

All eyes instantly focused on the scarlet figure standing at the head of the civil officials' seats.

Pei Zhihui.

He recommended Fu Chuan'ang, and he wanted the military seal. Now Fu Chuan'ang has rebelled, and his pretext is still to kill him, the "treacherous minister."

This play is utterly absurd.

Pei Zhihui slowly turned around.

His pale face showed no sign of panic, only a perfectly measured shock and fear.

He lifted the front of his scarlet official robe and knelt heavily on the cold gold bricks.

"Your Majesty, I deserve to die ten thousand times." Pei Zhihui's forehead touched the ground, his voice calm and without any fluctuation. "Your Majesty, I misjudged people, which allowed a traitor like Fu Chuan'ang to seize military power. I deserve to die ten thousand times. I beg Your Majesty to immediately imprison me to atone for your sins to the people."

The emperor stared intently at Pei Zhihui's back.

Kill him?

The emperor wished he could devour its flesh raw.

But can we kill him now?

The national treasury is empty, and the capital is without food. Thirteen merchant guilds have joined forces to control all the silver in circulation. Refugees outside the city have begun to storm the city gates.

If Pei Zhihui is killed, who will suppress the entire court? Who will procure the provisions for suppressing the rebellion?

The emperor slumped back onto his dragon throne, his chest heaving violently. A mouthful of metallic sweetness rose in his throat, which he forced down.

"Pei Zhihui," the emperor's voice was extremely weak and sinister, "since you know you deserve to die, I will give you a chance to atone for your sins."

"Your subject obeys the decree."

"Ten days." The emperor held up a withered finger. "Within ten days, gather 500,000 dan of military rations and one million taels of silver for me. I will personally lead the expedition to pacify the northern border. If you fail to do so, the entire Pei family, including nine generations of relatives, will be executed by slow slicing."

Pei Zhihui raised his head.

A barely concealed hint of mockery flashed in those peach blossom eyes.

"Your subject accepts the imperial decree and expresses his gratitude."

The court session is adjourned.

Outside the Meridian Gate, amidst the wind and snow, officials avoided Pei Zhihui as if he were a snake or a scorpion.

Pei Zhihui walked alone in the snow, his right hand tucked into his sleeve. The wound on his palm, caused by a shard of porcelain, had already scabbed over with thick blood.

Ten days?

The emperor couldn't even last three days.

Upon returning to the Pei residence, Pei Zhihui headed straight for the main courtyard.

Pei An was guarding outside the secret room. When he saw him coming, he immediately pushed open the heavy wooden door.

Inside the sealed room, the earthen ceiling was burning extremely hot.

Shen Qiongju, dressed in a plain-colored padded jacket, sat amidst a tall stack of account books. In her hand, she held a vermilion brush and was drawing a red circle on the last sheet of Xuan paper.

Hearing footsteps, Shen Qiongju looked up.

"Did Fu Chuan'ang make a move?" she asked.

"We've started." Pei Zhihui took off his snow-soaked cloak, walked over and sat down beside her. "The emperor has ordered me to gather provisions and funds within ten days. He intends to lead the expedition in person."

Shen Qiongju gave a cold laugh.

She pushed the sheet of Xuan paper covered with red circles in front of Pei Zhihui.

"There are no more than ten days left." Shen Qiongju pointed her finger at the center of the Xuan paper. "The cash of the thirteen merchant houses has all been transferred. The commanders of the last three checkpoints of the Jiangnan canal were replaced by our men last night. The current grain reserves in the capital are only enough to feed the people in the city for three days."

Pei Zhihui looked at the densely packed net.

The lifeline of the world's economy has been completely severed by this seemingly weak woman in front of him.

"At midnight tonight," Shen Qiongju put down her vermilion pen, "have the beggars in the north of the city spread the word that the emperor is going to forcibly collect rations from the people to pay for the army."

Pei Zhihui reached out and pulled her into his arms.

He rested his chin on the top of her head, inhaling the faint scent of soap in her hair, and his tense nerves finally relaxed a little.

"Once this game is over, and the emperor abdicates," Pei Zhihui said in a very low voice, "we'll go to Tingzhu Pavilion and bring Nian'an home."

Shen Qiongju closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"it is good."