Spoiled and mad critic of powerful ministers

She remembered this incident.

In his previous life, after the Pei family was exiled, this steward Zhao, relying on the fact that the emperor was far away and that he was a former member of the Pei family, treated the twenty acres of fertile land as his private property and acted like a tyrant in the village.

Later, when Pei Zhihui came to power, the first people he dealt with were these parasites who were eroding the Pei family's wealth.

And the boy who complained... she remembered, his name was Zhang Yan.

In his previous life, he had no way to file a complaint and was instead beaten by Steward Zhao, who broke his leg. After that, he disappeared without a trace.

Unexpectedly, in this life, he went directly to Shen Mo to complain.

"My aunt means that this matter is entirely in your hands." Pei Zhihui looked up at her. "I'm having you come along because I'm afraid that you, a woman, won't be able to handle the situation."

Shen Qiongju responded, "Thank you for your trouble, Aunt and Zhihui."

No sooner had he finished speaking than one of the mule cart wheels suddenly ran over a stone, causing the cart to lurch violently.

Caught off guard, Shen Qiongju leaned forward and was about to bump into the corner of the low table.

A hand reached out with lightning speed and firmly supported her arm.

That hand was long and slender, with distinct knuckles, but the fingertips were covered with thin calluses.

The warm touch once again wafted through the fabric.

Shen Qiongju quickly withdrew her hand, but lost her balance and crashed heavily into the car wall with a thud.

Pei Zhihui's hand was still suspended in mid-air; his movements stopped.

They do know how to avoid suspicion.

Pei Zhihui noticed that Shen Qiongju's breathing even faltered for a moment when she touched him.

He looked at Shen Qiongju, who was huddled in the corner, watching him warily. Her face, which always carried a gentle smile, seemed to be frightened and resistant to his touch.

He was as if he were some kind of monstrous monster.

Why?

He just helped her up, why was she so scared?

And why did I have such absurd dreams before?

"Sister-in-law, there's no need for that. I'm not a monster." He heard his own voice sound dry and cold.

Shen Qiongju glanced at him. "Really?"

She simply placed her hands on her knees, her palms clenched tightly.

That bastard Pei Zhihui was so cruel to her in her past life, how dare he ask?

The atmosphere in the carriage instantly plummeted to freezing point.

Pei Zhihui slowly withdrew his hand, his fingertips still seemingly retaining the feel of her fabric and the warmth of her body.

He lowered his eyes, concealing the turbulent emotions within them that he himself could not comprehend.

"Hold on tight." He uttered only two words before closing his eyes, leaning against the car wall, and feigning sleep.

Shen Qiongju looked at his pale, handsome profile and his slightly trembling eyelashes, and slowly closed her eyes as well.

She told herself that she couldn't dwell too much on the emotions of her past life.

In this life, Pei Zhihui knows nothing and is still a kind-hearted young man.

And he is the person she needs to please and control in this life; she cannot act impulsively.

After an unknown amount of time, the mule cart finally came to a stop.

Shen Qiongju was the first to open her eyes, tidied her slightly disheveled hair, and lifted the carriage curtain.

A strong smell, a mixture of animal manure and stale straw, wafted over, even stronger than the smell at the village entrance.

The village before me was even more dilapidated than I had imagined.

Several low mud-brick houses stood there, their walls peeling away to reveal the yellow earth beneath. The courtyard walls were haphazardly built of stones and mud, crooked and uneven.

But what surprised Shen Qiongju was that behind the mud-brick house was a house that seemed out of place. That house occupied a large area, with blue brick and tile houses, and even had a back garden.

A young boy in a worn-out cotton-padded jacket was waiting anxiously at the intersection ahead; it was Zhang Yan. Behind him stood an old man, Shen Qiongju's third great-uncle.

"Sister Qiongju!" Shen Song also hurried out of a room to greet her, his face showing some worry.

"Qiongju, Second Master Pei." When Third Uncle saw them, a glimmer of light appeared in his cloudy eyes, and he quickly stepped forward.

Pei Zhihui got out of the carriage, gave a faint "hmm", and his sharp gaze swept over the entire estate, his brows furrowing almost imperceptibly.

Shen Qiong helped herself down from the carriage and said gently to her third uncle, "Third Uncle, you've worked hard. Have you gotten all the details cleared up?"

Third Uncle sighed, pointed to the tenant farmers' houses behind him, and lowered his voice.

"I asked. This Zhao De is simply inhuman! He takes 80% of the land rent, which is even worse than the government's taxes! He also withholds seeds on a regular basis, and the farm tools he distributes are all old, broken junk that are almost obsolete."

"If any family couldn't pay their rent, he would bring people to their door to rob them, not even sparing their winter food rations."

"This is Zhang Yan's father. He was forced to pull a stone mill this winter, and he was beaten and verbally abused until he died!"

Shen Qiongju's heart sank little by little.

She looked at Zhang Yan, the boy who remained silent. He pursed his lips tightly, and his eyes burned with a hatred beyond his years.

"Where is Manager Zhao?" she asked.

Shen Song curled his lip: "They said they went to inspect the fields and told us to wait, but they're probably sleeping soundly in the big house in the back."

What a show of force!

Shen Qiongju was not annoyed. She simply said to her third uncle, "Third uncle, could you show me the land deeds, rent deeds, and harvest accounts from previous years for each household?"

Villagers need to have contracts notarized and stored by the village head or village chief whenever they sign one. This is because most villagers are illiterate, and the quantities of people and land must be recorded in the fish-scale register.

The village also keeps statistics on the grain harvest, and the annual harvest is reported to the county, which is also part of the county magistrate's performance evaluation.

Third Uncle asked Shen Song to go to his eldest son to get the contract and account book.

They were led into a fairly tidy main room, where a charcoal brazier burned, but it was still cold and damp.

Pei Zhihui found a seat by the window, held a cup of hot tea in his hand, lowered his eyes, and seemed to be thinking about something.

He remained silent, yet an invisible pressure enveloped the entire room.

After about the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, a middle-aged man with a bloated figure and an oily face sauntered in.

He was wearing a brand-new silk cotton robe, with a string of jingling keys hanging from his waist; he was none other than Zhao De, the steward.

"Oh dear, Second Master, Young Madam, please forgive me!" As soon as Zhao De entered the room, he cupped his hands in a respectful bow, his face plastered with a smile, but the smile did not reach his eyes.

"I'm busy with things at home and have neglected the important person."

His gaze swept over Pei Zhihui with a hint of apprehension, then fell on Shen Qiongju, where that apprehension transformed into undisguised disdain.

What could a young widow who had lost her husband, and who came from a merchant family, possibly know?

"Manager Zhao, you've worked hard." Shen Qiongju sat in the main seat, her expression indifferent. "No need for formalities, please sit down."

Zhao De didn't stand on ceremony and plopped down in the lower seat, whereupon his servants served him tea.

"I heard the young mistress wants to check the accounts?" Zhao De took a sip of tea and said slowly, "The account books are all here, please take a look."

He took two account books out of his sleeve and placed them on the table.

Shen Qiongju took the account book and flipped through it page by page.

The accounts were done beautifully, with neat handwriting and clear distinction between income and expenditure. At first glance, they seemed flawless.

Looking at her serious expression, Zhao De's lips curled into a mocking smile.

Pretend.

He was certain she wouldn't see anything wrong with it.

Pei Zhihui never looked up, only occasionally skimming the tea foam with the lid of his cup; the crisp clinking sound was particularly clear in the quiet room.

Suddenly, Shen Qiong's finger stopped on a certain page.

"Manager Zhao," she looked up, her voice still gentle, "this account states that last winter, the estate spent a total of twenty taels of silver on repairs to various houses. Is this true?"

Zhao De's eyelids twitched, then he smiled and said, "That's true. As you can see, young mistress, this estate is dilapidated, and the tenants are not living in peace. So I took the liberty of repairing it for each household."

"Really?" Shen Qiongju pushed the ledger forward and pointed to a line of text.

"But why was this expense recorded only after the spring?"

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

"Moreover, the receipts for the purchase of bricks, tiles, and timber were stamped with the seal of 'Wang's General Store' in the west of the city. If I remember correctly, Wang's General Store sells needles and thread, not bricks and tiles."

The smile on Zhao De's face froze instantly.