The low-key prince summons trainees from the Imperial Household Department at the start of the game.

Yingchuan Commandery, located in the heart of the Central Plains, was a thoroughfare connecting the north and south.

The ancestral home of the Chen family of Yingchuan is located in the eastern suburbs of the city, not in the city itself, but on a gentle slope outside the city, below which is the widest section of the Ying River tributary.

From a distance, this ancestral home is not remarkable. It has blue bricks and gray tiles, and the courtyard wall is no more than ten feet high. There are no illustrious plaques or golden characters bestowed by the imperial court on the lintel.

But if you get closer, you can see that every three feet there is a palm-sized stone slab embedded in the blue bricks of the courtyard wall.

The stone slab is engraved with extremely fine lines, whether you call it decoration or some kind of formation.

For hundreds of years, no one has ever dared to climb over that wall at night.

A row of old plum trees grows at the base of the wall, their branches gnarled and twisted like iron. After winter comes, all the leaves fall, leaving only bare branches lying across the wall, like a row of outstretched finger bones.

The new prefect of Yingchuan County is surnamed Zhou, and he was transferred from the capital last autumn.

He is only in his early thirties this year. He passed the imperial examination twice and served as a probationary official in the Ministry of Personnel for two years before being transferred to a post outside the capital. He is eager to make some achievements in his political career.

In his first three months in office, he did accomplish a few things.

He cleared up a number of backlog cases, repaired two sections of official roads, and even submitted a memorial requesting that the autumn grain tax be waived for two counties under the prefecture.

He submitted the memorial, and the Ministry of Revenue approved it. He felt he had done a good job, and even his posture became straighter than before.

But by the fourth month, he suddenly realized that he couldn't do the fifth thing he wanted to do.

He wants to survey the fields.

The land register of Yingchuan County was last extensively revised during the reign of Emperor Shizong.

For decades afterward, all land transactions, divisions, gifts, and mortgages in various villages and hamlets were conducted solely through private contracts, never going through the official channels.

The land is becoming less and less cultivated, while the taxes collected are becoming increasingly meager.

The register clearly shows over 100,000 mu, but after last autumn's harvest, the grain requisitioned by the imperial court was less than half of what was recorded in the register.

He summoned the clerk from the Household Department and asked him. The clerk stammered as he flipped through the old records, saying, "These are the numbers reported by each village."

He retrieved the rosters of the village and township officials, flipped through them, and found that eight or nine out of ten were surnamed Chen, Zheng, or Yang.

The three families had been entrenched in Yingchuan County for over three hundred years, and even the rice shops and salt shops in the county town bore their old names.

Prefect Zhou was not unaware of the crux of the problem.

But whenever he sent people to the countryside to measure, the measurers would either suddenly fall ill on the way or find that the boundaries of a certain field had been moved and the measured data did not match the old records. The village elders would unanimously say, "It has been like this since our ancestors."

He went to ask the prefectural magistrate, who referred him to the chief clerk. When he went to ask the chief clerk, the chief clerk brought out a stack of old files and pointed them out to him page by page. They were all old cases from years ago, and each one was still unresolved.

He slammed his fist on the table in anger, but after he did, the files were still the same files, and the people were still the same people.

That evening, he was in his study reading an urgent message from the capital.

The urgent letter was delivered by an old friend through a third party. It said that His Majesty had recently had a disagreement with several senior officials in the capital over the Mingdao examination, and someone from the Censorate had submitted a memorial impeaching the Zhenwu Division for abusing its power.

The Ministry of Revenue's task of surveying and measuring land was also secretly thwarted.

The letter also mentioned at the end that there had been some unusual signs in Yingchuan County recently.

Suddenly, a number of "night boats" appeared on the waterways south of the county. They all used the name of the Chen family's old business. The boats were deep in the water, but no one knew what they were carrying.

After reading it, Prefect Zhou held the letter up to the candle flame and burned it.

The flames swept across the paper, swallowing the words one by one, and the ashes fell into the copper plate like a small clump of black snow.

He sat alone for a long time.

Three drumbeats sounded outside the window, and the sycamore trees in the backyard of the government office rustled in the wind. A few withered leaves fell on the windowsill and were blown away by the wind.

He suddenly realized that as the prefect, he could manage criminal cases and finances, but he couldn't manage the fields of Yingchuan County.

He could manage the post stations along the official roads, but he couldn't manage the night boats on the river.

He could manage the constables in the yamen, but he couldn't manage the village heads in each township.

These people, though receiving salaries from the Great Zhou Dynasty, harbored deep-seated beliefs about the clan rules of the Chen, Zheng, and Yang families.

He decided to visit the Chen family.

He brought no ceremonial guards, only two attendants, and a standard visiting card.

The post read "Prefect Zhou Wenyuan of Yingchuan County pays his respects," without adding any official title or full name, which shows that he was being humble.

Upon arriving at the Chen family mansion, the gatekeeper accepted the invitation and led him inside.

He passed through three courtyards, each quieter than the last.

In the first courtyard, several servants were sweeping fallen leaves. When they saw him enter, they bowed and stepped aside.

In the second courtyard, there are two rows of old plum trees, with stone tables and benches under the trees, and an unfinished chess game on the table.

The third courtyard is the deepest and quietest, so quiet that you can't even hear the chirping of birds. Only the two copper bells hanging from the eaves of the main hall occasionally ring in the wind, their sound crisp and far-reaching, as if rising from the bottom of deep water.

Upon arriving at the main hall, an elderly man dressed in a blue cloth robe came out to greet them.

The old man had gray hair, a thin face, slightly high cheekbones, and slightly sunken eyes, but his eyes were very bright. He looked at people slowly and deliberately, as if he were weighing something.

He cupped his hands and said, "This old man is Chen Yun, greetings to Lord Zhou."

Prefect Zhou was taken aback.

He had long heard that Chen Jing'an, the head of the Chen family, no longer managed affairs much, and that daily matters were mostly handled by Chen Yun from the second branch of the family.

But to his surprise, when he, a prefect, came to visit, Chen Jing'an didn't even show his face.

He smiled and returned the greeting, then followed Chen Yun into the main hall.

The main hall was small and simply furnished, with a few rosewood chairs, two tea tables, and a landscape painting hanging on the wall. The paper had turned yellow, and the painting depicted the autumn scenery on both sides of the Ying River. The brushstrokes were light and sparse, as if it were the work of someone from a previous dynasty.

After a round of tea, Prefect Zhou tentatively brought up the matter of surveying and measuring the fields.

It is said that the land registers of Yingchuan County have been in disrepair for many years, resulting in the loss of tax revenue. The imperial court intends to rectify the situation. I wonder if the Chen family could speak on this matter in the village and persuade the elders of each village to cooperate.

Chen Yun did not reply immediately after hearing this.

He picked up the teacup and slowly stirred the floating tea leaves with the lid, his movements unhurried, as if he were doing something he had done ten thousand times before.

Then he said gently, "It is a blessing for the people of Yingchuan that Lord Zhou cares about their suffering."

He began by saying this, pausing briefly before continuing, "But I have a question for you, sir. Do you know how many people lived in Yingchuan County three hundred years ago?"

Prefect Zhou was taken aback.

Of course he didn't know.

He had only been in Yingchuan for four months. He had looked through the land registers and county annals, but he couldn't answer the question about the population figures from three hundred years ago.

Chen Yun did not wait for his reply.

He put down his teacup, the bottom of which tapped softly on the table, and then slowly said, "Back then, the population of Yingchuan County was less than one-tenth of what it is today, but the land tax was ten times higher."

He raised his eyes to look at Prefect Zhou, his gaze not heavy, but containing a thick layer of meaning, like a riverbed stone worn smooth by the current for many years, its edges rounded, yet its weight still intact: "Sir, please consider, what is the reason for this?"

Prefect Zhou frowned.

He vaguely felt that Chen Yun was talking about something very important, but that thing was wrapped in a thin shell that he couldn't peel away for the time being.

Chen Yun smiled again.

The smile was faint, like a sliver of sunlight peeking through the clouds in winter, bright for a moment and then gone: "This old man is not trying to stop you from taking the land survey, but the words 'taking the land survey' are easy to say but difficult to do. The fields are inanimate, but people are alive."

"The land is on the land register, but the people who work on the land need to make a living. If the officials only focus on the numbers on the land register and forget that there are still people living on the land, then the land survey will not be a tax survey, but a life survey."

After saying that, he said no more.

He picked up his teacup, took a slow sip, then put it down, waiting for Prefect Zhou to continue.

His demeanor was very composed, like a game of chess in the middle stage where he had just made a move, neither in a hurry to urge his opponent nor in a hurry to end the game.

Prefect Zhou understood the implication.

He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but the words rolled around in his throat and ultimately did not come out.

He politely took his leave, and Chen Yun stopped at the entrance of the main hall, cupped his hands in greeting, and said, "Take care, sir."

When Prefect Zhou walked out of the three courtyards, it was already dark. The patterns on the stone slabs in the courtyard faintly glowed in the twilight, like a row of half-open, half-closed eyes.

By the time they returned to the government office, it was already completely dark.

He sat in his study, replaying Chen Yun's words in his mind.

He suddenly understood.

Chen Yun wasn't trying to reason with him; he was telling him a fact.

The fields, the people, and the taxes of Yingchuan County all originate from the roots of the Chen family.

If he wants to dig up the roots, he has to ask the roots if they are willing to be moved first.

As a newly appointed prefect, he had no soldiers, no money, and no capable people.

There's really not much he can do.

He sat under the lamp for a long time, then spread out a folding sheet and picked up a pen.

He wanted to write something, but the pen tip hovered above the paper, hesitant to put it down.

He remembered Chen Yun's words.

"A clean tax collection is no longer a clean tax collection, but a clean decree."

He suddenly realized that these words were not only addressed to Yingchuan County, but also to everyone who wanted to challenge the powerful families.

The Chen, Zheng, and Yang families have been established in this region for three hundred years, their roots deeply embedded in every inch of land, every village, and the heart of every individual.

If you want to pull it out, you have to pull the root out of those people's hearts first.

But that thing was connected to flesh and blood; pulling one out would pull out a whole piece.

He finally put down his pen.

The memorial was short, stating that the land registers of Yingchuan County were old and suggesting that the land survey be postponed for the time being, and that the work should start with the village heads to clarify the old records, and then make further plans when the time was right.

After he finished writing, he looked at it once, changed two words, looked at it again, then closed the folded book, sealed it, and placed it on the corner of the desk to be handed out at dawn.

He leaned back in his chair, gazing out at the dark night.

The branches of the sycamore tree in the backyard of the government office stretched out to the window, casting a patch of dappled light and shadow in the moonlight. When the wind blew, the light and shadow swayed on the window paper, like countless tiny insects crawling.

He did not send anyone to the countryside to measure the fields again.

The next morning, he handed over the folded paper.

The memorial was submitted and approved quickly.

The approval document came from the Ministry of Revenue and contained only four characters.

"Understood, approved."

Zhou Qian knew about Yingchuan County.

The day the folded paper was delivered to the Imperial Study, he was discussing the military report from the northern border with Pei Du.

Zhao Gao handed him the folded book. He opened it, looked at it, remained silent for a few moments, then closed it and placed it on top of the stack of folded books on the corner of the table.

He didn't react, didn't reprimand, and didn't order anyone to investigate.

Because he also knew that Yingchuan was not an isolated case.

The Chen family is not the first, nor will they be the last.

Only by stabilizing the capital can he free up his hands to uproot those local forces one by one.

Before this, there were countless other prefectures like Yingchuan.

The surface of the water is calm, but beneath it lies a tangled web of roots and entanglements.

Pei Du sat at the lower end of the table, glanced at the book on the corner of the desk, and did not ask anything, but Zhou Qian noticed that his gaze lingered there for a moment.

Zhou Qian picked up his teacup, took a sip, and suddenly said, "Pei Qing, you said the fields in Yingchuan County are quite pristine?"

Pei Du was silent for a moment, then replied, "It's not easy to clarify. The Chen family's roots are not in the fields, but in people's hearts."

"To cleanse the fields, first cleanse the people; to cleanse the people, first cleanse their hearts. But the heart is something that cannot be cleansed by a single decree."

Zhou Qian did not respond.

He put down his teacup, picked up the book again, opened it, and looked at the words written by the young prefect.

The handwriting is neat and the wording is cautious, but there is a sense of suffocation between the lines, as if something is blocking the way.

He recalled that he had written a similar memorial when he first ascended the throne, and had also encountered similar frustrations.

He closed the folding book, placed it back on the corner of the table, and then said to Zhao Gao, "Pass on my message to Zhou Wenyuan, saying that I have ordered him to postpone the land survey, not that I have ordered it to be completed forever."

"Let him find out the details of those village heads, organize the old files of each village, and get a clear list of names. Once the matters in the capital are settled, I will send someone to help him."

Zhao Gao agreed and turned to leave.

Zhou Qian stopped him again: "Also, tell him that the Chen family invited him for tea, and he can drink it, but he shouldn't get on the Chen family's boat."

Zhao Gao responded and left.

The imperial study fell silent, with only the dripping of water from the water clock breaking the silence.

The night outside the window was deep and dark, and the palace lanterns swayed slightly in the wind.

The roots beneath the water's surface are still intertwined and tangled in the shadows, but at least one thing has changed.

The person on the dragon throne already knows.