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

I thought that after Qian Rong died, I would at least be able to get a full night's sleep.

As it turned out, I was still too young.

Bad news in this world is like a death warrant; it never lines up. No sooner had Qian Ronggang died during his transport than a memorial from the Ministry of Revenue landed on my desk.

And it was placed very neatly.

It stands upright, like a tombstone.

I sat in my office at the Censorate, looking at that book, but didn't reach out to touch it for a long time.

Ah Liu stood to the side, holding a cup of tea in his hands. The tea had gone cold, and the tea leaves floated on top, one by one, just like Qian Rong's eyes rolling back before he died.

He whispered, "Young master, why aren't you looking?"

I glanced at him.

"Do you know what this is?"

Ah Liu glanced down at the cover.

"Ministry of Revenue Announcements".

"wrong."

I pushed the book forward half an inch.

"This is a death warrant."

Ah Liu's hand trembled, and he almost spilled the tea on the table.

"Young master, don't frighten me. Didn't we just perform a great service? Qian Rong has fallen, and His Majesty still says that the entire court only trusts you. Logically speaking, you should at least be rewarded with some silver so you can properly prepare for your wedding."

I chuckled.

He laughed very dryly.

The emperor rewarded me?

He did indeed reward him.

They rewarded me with a princess.

He also casually gave me a disaster relief fund from the Ministry of Revenue.

It's like someone seeing you're hungry, handing you a bowl of rice, with a knife hidden underneath, and kindly telling you to eat slowly so you don't choke.

A gust of wind blew in through the cracks in the window, causing the old piece of paper on the corner of the desk to tremble slightly.

That was a briefing sent by the Ministry of Justice after Qian Rong was silenced.

It was written very neatly on it.

During the transport, the axle of the prison van suddenly broke, causing it to overturn. The prisoner, Qian Rong, hit his head on a stone step and died on the spot.

Clean.

It's too clean.

The axle kept breaking, whether it was early in the morning or late at night, but it broke precisely just before Qian Rong was about to be imprisoned in the Ministry of Justice and undergo a joint trial by the three judicial departments.

The stone steps were just right there, waiting for his head.

Even more coincidentally, before Qian Rong died, he whispered three words in my ear.

Account settlement meeting.

Even now, when I close my eyes, I can still picture his ashen face.

It didn't look like the face of a dying man, but rather like the face of someone who had finally realized that he was just a small line of text in an account book.

Finished writing, cross it out.

Not a single trace of ink was left.

"Lord Shen."

A slow, leisurely voice sounded from outside the door.

Ah Liu immediately stood up straight.

I looked up and saw Wei Zhi walk in.

He still had that same smiling face, holding a roll of yellow silk in his hands, followed by two young eunuchs. The young eunuchs walked very lightly, as if afraid of hurting the floor tiles of the Censorate.

I stood up and bowed.

"Eunuch Wei."

Wei Zhi smiled and said, "Lord Shen, you are too kind. His Majesty said that the Qian Rong case has just been resolved, and Lord Shen has worked hard and should take a rest."

My heart skipped a beat.

When the emperor says "it should be," nothing good usually follows.

Sure enough, Wei Zhi placed the yellow silk on the table and pushed the Ministry of Revenue's proclamation in front of me.

"However, the disaster relief funds for the three prefectures north of the Yangtze River cannot be delayed."

I looked at that booklet.

It lay quietly on the table.

Like a hand that has just been washed clean.

But I always felt that there was still blood hidden between those fingers.

I asked, "Did His Majesty order me to investigate?"

Wei Zhi's smile remained unchanged.

"His Majesty said that among all the civil and military officials, there are not many who can spot dirt in a clean tent."

That sounds like a compliment.

It sounds like an insult to me.

I just turned the Ministry of Works upside down, and then I got Qian Rong into a coffin. Now that the Ministry of Revenue case is on my mind, the way the officials look at me has probably changed from "this kid is lucky" to "how come this kid is still alive?"

Wei Zhi added in a low voice, "His Majesty also said that Lord Shen does not need to rush to the palace to express his gratitude."

I was taken aback.

"No need?"

"His Majesty said that Lord Shen's wedding is in ten days. There are many trivial matters to attend to. He should investigate the case first and then get married, so that neither can be neglected."

I almost choked on my own saliva.

Investigate the case first, then get married.

Neither can be neglected.

The emperor makes it sound so easy.

Am I able to do both at the same time?

Here I am, with a brazier in my left hand, an oil drum in my right, and sitting in the middle, holding a short blade, ordered by my father to kill my lord.

Wei Zhi looked at me, the smile lines at the corners of his eyes deepening.

"One more thing, regarding His Highness Zhaoning, the Ministry of Rites has already received the imperial decree to make arrangements. Lord Shen, rest assured, the wedding date will not be delayed."

I'd like to ask, what if I'm not at ease?

But as the words were about to come out, I only said, "Your subject obeys the decree."

I've been using these four words more and more frequently lately.

So familiar it sounds like the truth.

After Wei Zhi left, the office became quiet.

Ah Liu stared at the yellow silk and folding cloth, his face turning pale.

"Young master, do you think His Majesty thinks you've lived too long?"

I picked up the herbal tea and took a sip.

It was so cold that my teeth ached.

"no."

Ah Liu breathed a sigh of relief.

I said, "His Majesty thinks my death wasn't useful enough."

Ah Liu's face turned pale again.

I ignored him and reached out to open the Ministry of Revenue folding book.

The cover of the folded booklet reads:

List of disaster relief funds for the three prefectures north of the Yangtze River.

The handwriting is excellent—neat, rounded, and with just the right amount of pressure. The person who wrote it probably understands the rules and knows how to make it pleasing to the eye.

The first page is a general overview of the disaster situation in the three prefectures north of the Yangtze River.

In Yong'an County, the spring drought turned into flooding, affecting 12,367 people.

In Qingping County, a river embankment breached, resulting in 9,821 casualties.

In Shimen Prefecture, at the onset of the epidemic, there were 7,440 disaster victims.

A total of 29,628 people.

The numbers are neat.

It made me frown.

Look down again.

The relief funds have been disbursed.

The relief grain has been distributed.

The disaster victims have been resettled.

The epidemic has been brought under control.

Grain prices remained stable.

No popular uprising.

No absconded households.

There were no starving people.

No deaths from the epidemic.

My finger stopped when I saw this.

Ah Liu leaned closer and whispered, "Isn't this great?"

I glanced at him.

"You think it's good?"

Ah Liu blinked.

"The disaster is over, the grain has been distributed, the people have been resettled, and the grain price has stabilized. Young master, this account looks clearer than our household's monthly pay account."

"That's why it's wrong."

Ah Liu was stunned.

I unfolded the folded book and pointed to the first few lines of text.

"There were 29,628 disaster victims, and the amount of grain distributed corresponded exactly to their daily rations, not a bushel less or a bushel more. The relief silver was converted into silver and distributed according to the number of people, which also reached each household exactly. The expenditure from the charitable granaries, the allocation of silver from the Ministry of Revenue, and the receipt by the local authorities all went smoothly."

Ah Liu was even more bewildered.

"Isn't it better to close it?"

I sighed.

"Ah Liu, have you ever bought any cakes on the street?"

"I've bought it before."

"If there are ten pancakes, can the seller guarantee that each one will be the same size?"

"No, some are thick, some are thin, and some have paste on the edges."

"And what about disaster relief? The three prefectures were in different places, with different disaster situations, different officials, and different grain routes. More than 20,000 people received grain, including the elderly, children, the sick, and those who had fled. Yet every single entry in the accounts looked like it was made from the same mold. Do you think these were accounts made by humans or by ghosts?"

Ah Liu opened his mouth.

After a long pause, he said, "Even ghosts might not be this diligent."

I nodded.

"Yes, so there are living people behind this tent. And not just any living people."

The Ministry of Revenue's accounts are most prone to being unclean.

What's more frightening than being unclean is being too clean.

A dirty tent will reveal the mud.

A falsely clean tent is often made by first smoothing out the mud, then covering it with a layer of whitewash, and finally telling you that no one has ever died here.

I flipped to the back and saw a line of annotation.

Zheng Huai'en, the Right Vice Minister of the Ministry of Revenue, verified that there were no errors.

Zheng Huaien.

I am familiar with this name.

On the day the Yongning River case was reviewed at the Golden Hall, he stood in the Ministry of Revenue's procession. He was around forty years old, with a round face and kind eyes. He didn't have Qian Rong's sharpness and always looked at people with a hint of politeness.

The most troublesome people in the imperial court are often not those who immediately want to kill you.

Rather, it's the kind of person who seems very willing to invite you for tea.

At least Qian Rong would panic.

People like Zheng Huaien, even when they panic, act as if they're not panicking at all.

I continued reading.

The register also included four items: grain from the public granary, funds for soup kitchens, medicines from medical clinics, and relocation of disaster victims.

Every single one looks great.

Grain prices are so stable, it's like they've been pressed onto a piece of paper.

The amount of medicinal materials used was far less than expected at the onset of an epidemic.

The soup kitchen had been open for thirty days, but the cost of firewood was pitifully low.

I picked up my pen and lightly tapped the column for firewood usage.

Ah Liu came over again.

"Is there a problem with that?"

"For thirty days, the porridge sheds in the three prefectures of Jiangbei recorded three pots of porridge each day, with each pot serving one hundred people. There were a total of 387 porridge sheds in the three prefectures."

Ah Liu tried to count on his fingers, but couldn't figure it out.

I put the pen on the desk.

"With so many pots of porridge, the firewood cost is so low that it's not even enough to heat water for a bath. Unless they're not cooking porridge."

Ah Liu asked, "What is that?"

I said, "The conscience of the Minister of Revenue."

Ah Liu was stunned for a moment, then couldn't help but burst out laughing.

He had barely chuckled when he quickly covered his mouth, as if afraid the Minister of Revenue would reach in through the window and pinch him.

But I couldn't laugh.

In the Yongning River case, the Ministry of Works embezzled stone materials, construction time, and transportation fees, while clerks and craftsmen died.

If there were truly something fishy about the Ministry of Revenue's disaster relief funds, then the victims would be the ones who died.

The number of disaster victims is not the number on the folded paper.

They will get hungry, get sick, run, cry, and in despair, they will turn into a fire.

Once this fire starts, the first thing pushed to the front lines may not be the Ministry of Revenue.

It's very likely me.

After all, I just brought down Qian Rong, and his reputation is too big.

The sound is so loud it's perfect for taking the blame.

The footsteps outside suddenly quickened.

Zhao Guanlan's attendant stood at the door, his face somewhat grim.

"Lord Shen, Lord Zhao requests your presence."

I closed the folding book.

"What is it?"

The servant glanced around the room and then lowered his voice.

"An urgent report has just arrived from the soup kitchen outside the city."

My heart sank.

The servant said, "Some disaster victims are causing trouble, saying they came from Jiangbei and have not received any relief grain."

Ah Liu's eyes widened.

"But didn't the account book say that all the disaster victims have been resettled?"

No one answered him.

Because the answer was already in that urgent report.

I stood up, the short blade in my sleeve pressed against my forearm, as cold as a hibernating snake.

I will be getting married in ten days.

But before that, the disaster victims who had already been properly resettled in the Ministry of Revenue's accounts arrived alive outside the capital.

The list of the dead hasn't been finished yet.

A living person has come knocking on the door.