My father ordered me to kill the emperor, but His Majesty bestowed a princess upon me instead.

When the words "Qinghe" appeared, my palms felt cold.

It wasn't blown by the wind.

These two words are like a hand reaching out from an old tent, suddenly grabbing my wrist.

According to the Ministry of Revenue's records, the rice for the Western Soup Dishes came from the Western Granary.

But the old stamp on the rice bag in front of me showed a peaceful and serene scene.

The worst thing in the world is not making a mistake in the accounting.

You can't just say you're confused if you make a mistake.

What I fear most is that the account is perfectly accurate, but the actual goods come from a completely different place.

That means that someone not only knows how to keep accounts, but also knows how to separate the accounts from the goods.

The tent was shown to the imperial court.

Things are meant to be shown to ghosts.

I tucked the rice bag seal into my sleeve without making a sound immediately.

This place is not suitable to be called "Qinghe Charity Granary".

It is even less appropriate to call it a "account clearing meeting".

Hundreds of hungry people stood outside the porridge stall; a single wrong word could turn the stall into a bonfire.

Disaster victims who have been starving for a long time will not talk to you about evidence.

All they will ask is whether there will be a bowl of porridge today.

The person in charge of the soup kitchen was still kneeling in front of me, his face pale.

I asked him, "How much rice did the soup kitchen actually receive today?"

The person in charge moved his lips.

"The tent... there are three stones on the tent."

"I asked about the actual situation."

His forehead was covered in even more sweat.

"Also, it's San Shi."

I looked at the three pots.

One pot was bubbling with porridge, but there were very few grains of rice. Another pot had just been lit, and the water at the bottom hadn't even heated up yet. The third pot was completely empty, though the rim was wiped quite clean.

It was so clean it looked like it had never been used to cook porridge.

I asked, "Are all three bushels of rice here?"

The person in charge kowtowed.

"Lord Shen, you are wise enough to know that I would never dare to embezzle government grain."

I smiled.

"I didn't say you were greedy."

He was just about to breathe a sigh of relief.

I continued, "I'm just asking, where did the rice go?"

The person in charge had another breath stuck in their throat.

A nearby constable, unable to bear the sight, stepped forward and said, "Lord Shen, the soup kitchens distribute soup according to the roster, and unauthorized personnel are not allowed to disturb the process. Now that the disaster victims are gathered here, there is a risk of unrest. Please leave first, and leave the rest to the Ministry of Revenue."

He spoke very firmly.

They probably thought I was young, and also felt that the Censorate's official robes weren't as tough as the Imperial Guards' swords.

I turned to look at him.

"What's your name?"

The constable was taken aback.

"Sun...Sun Ping."

I nodded.

"Ah Liu, write this down."

Ah Liu, holding the roster, immediately took out a pen.

Sun Ping's expression changed.

"What do you mean by this, sir?"

I said, "You just said that the remaining matters should be handled by the Ministry of Revenue. That's a good point. When I get back, I will write a memorial stating that Sun Ping, a clerk from the Ministry of Revenue, requested the Censorate to leave so that the Ministry of Revenue could handle the situation itself when there was no porridge for the disaster victims, the dead were receiving grain, and the rice bags in the public granaries were missing."

Sun Ping's face turned pale instantly.

I looked at him and spoke in a very gentle tone.

"Don't worry, I won't exaggerate. At most, I'll write your name more clearly."

Sun Ping immediately knelt down.

"Please forgive me, sir, that's not what I meant."

"So what do you mean?"

"It's...it's because we're afraid the disaster victims will cause trouble."

I looked at the crowd.

The disaster victims were also looking at me.

Some were numb, some were fearful, and some had fire in their eyes.

The fire was still small.

But if someone just pours in a spoonful of oil, it will catch fire today.

I stood up straight and announced loudly, "The porridge at the West Soup Hall will be served as usual today."

A commotion broke out in the crowd.

The person in charge of the soup kitchen suddenly looked up.

"Sir, someone not on the list..."

I interrupted him.

"A separate temporary register shall be established."

"That's against the rules!"

I look at him.

"Is it within the rules for disaster victims to starve to death?"

The person in charge opened his mouth.

I pointed to the three pots.

"Today we have three bushels of rice, three pots of porridge, and one hundred and thirty-two people in the tent. There are still disaster victims from Jiangbei outside the tent, holding relief plaques, but you say their names are not on the roster. Well, that's simple."

I looked at Ah Liu.

"Record names. Names, places of origin, wooden plaques, and relatives, register them one by one. Those who receive porridge today should be written in a temporary register. If it is found later that someone has fraudulently received the porridge, I will be held responsible. If it is found later that genuine disaster victims have starved to death, you will be held responsible."

Ah Liu's face turned green when he heard "I'll take responsibility".

But he immediately found a wooden board to use as a table and spread out the roster.

Although he was afraid of death, he eventually managed to do some decent things.

The disaster victims were initially afraid to move.

Fang Chenshi held her child and knelt in the mud to look at me.

I helped her up.

"Give the child half a bowl first."

The person in charge of the soup kitchen was still hesitating.

Yan Xiaoyi had returned sometime earlier and was standing behind him, saying lazily, "If you hesitate any longer, the child will die by the pot. Then we won't be serving this porridge; we'll be holding a funeral instead."

The person in charge shivered and quickly ordered someone to ladle porridge.

When half a bowl of porridge was brought to the child's lips, the child could no longer cry out, but only instinctively opened his mouth.

Fang Chenshi fed the baby while tears streamed down her face.

Someone in the crowd muttered, "Lord Shen really did give out porridge."

These words spread quickly and soon turned into a murmur of whispers.

I know this favor is nothing.

Half a bowl of porridge can't save a case.

It couldn't save Daliang either.

But it can make these people temporarily stop regarding me as someone from the Ministry of Revenue.

This is enough.

Investigating a case is like cooking porridge; you have to keep the heat steady.

The heat was too high, and the food burned.

The fire was too low, so it's undercooked.

Ah Liu's side has already started the registration process.

"Name?"

"Li Dalang".

"Place of origin?"

"Shiqiao Village, Qingping County"

"A wooden sign?"

"No...the cards were stolen."

Ah Liu paused for a moment and looked at me.

I said, "Remember."

Ah Liu then asked the next question.

"Name?"

"Fang Chenshi".

"Place of origin?"

Liugou Village, Yong'an County.

"A wooden sign?"

Fang Chen handed over the cracked wooden plaque.

Ah Liu glanced at me, then looked at me.

I nodded.

As he wrote, the tip of his pen trembled slightly.

As the number of disaster victims increased, the queue gradually formed.

The previously chaotic crowd quieted down somewhat because of a temporary roster.

Ridiculous.

A single sheet of paper can starve a person.

It can also allow people to live temporarily.

The key is whether the person writing on the paper wants to record accounts or to write their fate.

I turned to look at the person in charge of the soup kitchen.

"Today, all rice bags, firewood piles, rosters, and wooden signs are sealed up."

The person in charge's expression changed.

"Lord Shen, these are all official items of the Ministry of Revenue."

"Perfect timing," I said. "The Censorate is investigating the official property of the Ministry of Revenue."

"Without an order from the Ministry of Revenue, we cannot move."

"Who said I was moving out?"

I looked at Yan Xiaoyi.

He yawned reluctantly.

"More work to do?"

"Sealing off the shed."

Yan Xiaoyi sighed, as if I were asking him to carry the mountain.

"You'll exhaust me to death sooner or later."

Despite saying that, he acted quickly, leading two constables from the Censorate who had followed from a distance, and cordoned off the rice sacks, firewood piles, and stoves.

I took out my official seal and wrote a seal on it.

Shen An, the Censor-in-Chief of the Censorate, was ordered to investigate the Jiangbei disaster relief fund case. He sealed the current roster, rice bags, firewood, and wooden signs of the West Soup Dishes Shelter for review.

When the official seal was pressed down, the person in charge of the soup kitchen stared wide-eyed.

He probably didn't expect that I would actually dare to seal off the Ministry of Revenue's property on its own turf.

Ah Liu whispered, "Young master, won't you offend the Ministry of Revenue by doing this?"

I glanced at him.

"You think I didn't offend anyone before?"

Ah Liu thought about it.

"That's true."

The fog had not yet lifted outside the soup kitchen.

Yan Xiaoyi walked to my side, her voice lowered.

"The man in blue cloth didn't catch up."

I asked, "Did it run away?"

"They didn't run away, someone picked them up."

"Who?"

"I can't see clearly. The carriage is stopped in the fog, without any insignia. The wheels are narrow, like the small sedan chairs commonly used in the Ministry of Rites."

Ministry of Rites?

I frowned.

The words "Ministry of Rites" have been appearing far too frequently lately.

Wedding ceremony, cuffs, Zhou Xian.

Now even the gentleman in blue cloth who pushed the disaster victims in front of me is suspected of being related to the Ministry of Rites' carriage.

Yan Xiaoyi handed me something else.

A small piece of blue cloth.

"Torn off that man's sleeve."

The fabric is ordinary.

However, the cuffs were sewn very finely, unlike what ordinary refugees could afford.

Just as I was about to take a closer look, I suddenly heard the sound of horses' hooves outside the soup kitchen.

Two carriages belonging to the Ministry of Revenue were parked outside.

As soon as Manager Ma got out of the car and saw the seal, his expression changed instantly.

"Lord Shen, what is the meaning of this?"

I tucked the blue cloth into my sleeve and turned to look at him.

"Manager Ma arrived quickly."

Manager Ma forced a smile and said, "The Ministry of Revenue heard that the disaster victims were gathering at the West Soup Dishes Shelter and were worried that trouble might arise, so they specially ordered me to come and appease them."

As he spoke, he glanced at the sealed rice bag and the roster.

His eyes betrayed his anxiety.

I understand now.

He didn't come to comfort the disaster victims.

They've come to collect evidence.

Manager Ma stepped forward.

"Lord Shen, the rice and grain in the soup kitchens are official property of the Ministry of Revenue. If they are sealed off, how can we continue to distribute soup today? We beg you to consider the people's livelihood and remove the seals first."

I laughed.

"Does Master Ma have any concern for the people's livelihood?"

"nature."

"That's perfect." I pointed to the pot of thin porridge. "You've come at the right time. Today we have three shi of rice, one hundred and thirty-two registered disaster victims, and over sixty temporary disaster victims. Since Steward Ma is so considerate of the people's livelihood, why don't you tell me how three shi of rice can be cooked into such a pot of clear soup?"

The smile on Manager Ma's face froze.

The surrounding disaster victims also quieted down.

This time, I wasn't the only one watching him.

Hundreds of hungry eyes were watching him.

Manager Ma's Adam's apple bobbed.

"This... I have just arrived and am unaware of the details."

I nodded.

"No rush. Let's watch it together."

I walked to the pot, picked up a long spoon, and stirred the contents of the pot.

The rice grains floated to the surface, then quickly sank back down.

I looked at the pot of soup and said softly, "Manager Ma, accounts can lie, but porridge can't."

Manager Ma's face grew paler and paler.

I put the spoon back into the pot.

"This pot of porridge won't produce anyone to fill the Ministry of Revenue's accounts."