Da Ming: The system granted me immortality; I clock in every day.

Upon hearing this, Zhu Qizhen felt a chill run down his spine.

He felt as if he had returned to that terrifying summer when he was forced to carry fifty-pound sandbags and dig trenches in Xiyuan.

But he immediately turned his gaze to Zhu Qiyu on the ground.

An extremely twisted sense of vengeful pleasure surged through him.

Since I have suffered such inhuman torment, why should you, Zhu Qiyu, be able to comfortably paint and listen to music in the Prince's Palace?

If we're brothers, we have to suffer together!

"The Grand Tutor is absolutely right!"

Zhu Qizhen's eyes lit up, and he loudly agreed.

"To measure the land, how can one not get down into the ground and dig up the soil! Wang Zhen!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Immediately order someone to fence off a piece of wasteland in the West Garden! Starting tomorrow, Prince Cheng will study accounting in the Wenhua Hall in the morning, and in the afternoon he will go to the West Garden and use that iron shovel to dig furrows for ten acres of land! He will not be allowed to drink water until he finishes digging!"

Upon hearing this, Zhu Qiyu's eyes rolled back, and he fainted on the gold bricks in shock.

Gu Yannian opened his folding fan, covering half of his face and hiding the uncontrollable mocking smile in his eyes.

These two brothers, one of them became a meticulous, ruthless, and stingy "Abacus Emperor".

Another prince who will soon be forced to become a "laborer prince" carrying iron shovels to work in the fields.

"The performers on stage are becoming more and more interesting."

Gu Yannian turned and walked out of the hall, leaving the two most distinguished brothers of the Ming Dynasty with a graceful and serene back view.

The sound of the wooden clapper at dawn had just begun to echo over the silent Forbidden City.

The night remained as dark as ink, with not a single glimmer of dawn appearing on the horizon.

Inside a side hall of the Wenhua Hall, a tiny oil lamp flickered in the cold wind.

Fifteen-year-old Prince Zhu Qiyu of Cheng was curled up on a hard rosewood daybed, covered with a worn-out thin cotton quilt.

His delicate, fair face was filled with exhaustion and fear, his brows furrowed tightly.

Even in his sleep, his hands were unconsciously fiddling with the air.

He kept muttering things like "three one three left one" and "two points of fire consumption".

"Clang! Clang! Clang!"

A rapid and deafening gong sound suddenly rang in Zhu Qiyu's ears.

Zhu Qiyu suddenly sat up in bed, breaking out in a cold sweat.

He opened his eyes, still shaken.

Wang Zhen, the Grand Eunuch of the Directorate of Ceremonial, was seen carrying a bronze gong in both hands.

He stood in front of the bed with a smug, mocking smile on his face.

Behind Wang Zhen, the legitimate emperor Zhu Qizhen, dressed in a black casual robe, stood with his hands behind his back.

The young emperor's gaze was like a knife, coldly scraping against Zhu Qiyu.

"Your Majesty...Brother..."

Upon seeing who it was, Zhu Qiyu was so frightened that he tumbled off the bed and collapsed onto the cold gold bricks.

They didn't even bother to put on their shoes.

"Your subject pays respects to Your Majesty."

Zhu Qizhen looked down at his trembling younger brother and snorted coldly.

"It's already the hour of Yin. What, Your Highness Prince Cheng, do you still think this is your Tenth Prince's Mansion, where you sleep until the sun is high in the sky, waiting for your esteemed guest to come and enjoy chrysanthemums and tea with you?"

Zhu Qizhen's voice echoed in the empty side hall, carrying an unquestionable sternness.

He turned and walked toward the main hall, the hem of his bright yellow robe fluttering in the lamplight.

"Get dressed and get over here to sort out the accounts! If you can't figure out the deficit in last year's autumn grain harvest in Xuanfu today, you're skipping breakfast!"

Zhu Qiyu was on the verge of tears.

I've been forcibly detained in this Wenhua Hall for half a month now.

His carefree life as a prince was completely reduced to ashes.

He was awakened by the sound of a gong at the hour of Yin (3-5 AM) every day, and what greeted him was a mountain of old account books covered in dust.

And that heavy sandalwood abacus.

He hurriedly put on the coarse cloth robe that was stained gray with mud.

Without even properly combing her hair, she stumbled and followed into the main hall.

Inside the main hall, several braziers of charcoal fire made the air somewhat hot and dry.

Zhu Qizhen sat upright behind his imperial desk and pointed to a small writing desk below.

On the desk, the sandalwood abacus that struck fear into Zhu Qiyu lay quietly.

"I guess so."

Zhu Qizhen threw a yellowed fish-scale book in front of Zhu Qiyu.

Zhu Qiyu knelt on the prayer mat and opened the booklet.

The densely packed tiny characters and complex numbers on it, like a nest of ants, made him dizzy.

"Xuanfu Left Guard had a quota of 30,000 mu of fertile farmland for military settlements during the Hongwu era... Last year's report stated that due to the autumn drought, the grain yield was only 12,000 shi..."

As Zhu Qiyu read, he stretched out his hands, which were originally used to hold paintbrushes but were now covered with blood vessels and blisters.

He struggled to manipulate the abacus.

"Pat...pat..."

The sound of the abacus was intermittent and erratic.

Zhu Qizhen frowned and slammed the teacup he was holding onto the table.

"Fool! Thirty thousand mu of fertile land, even in the event of an autumn drought, according to the yield per mu of the lowest-grade land in the Nine Border Regions, should yield at least seven dou of coarse wheat! Thirty thousand mu would be twenty-one thousand shi!"

"He reported 12,000 shi (a unit of grain), so where did the remaining 9,000 shi go? Were they borrowed by the ghost soldiers of Xuanfu (a prefecture) who were using his passage?!"

Zhu Qizhen stepped down from behind his desk, a bamboo ruler now in his hand.

With a "smack," the sword struck the edge of Zhu Qiyu's desk.

Startled, Zhu Qiyu shuddered violently, and the abacus beads immediately became a jumbled mess.

"Recalculate! Give me a clear account of last year's expenses for timber used in the construction of Xuanfu, the wages and food allowances, along with this messy debt!"

Zhu Qiyu's eyes were red, and he forced back his tears as he readjusted the abacus beads.

He felt extremely wronged.

What does it have to do with a prince who paints in the capital, given that the border generals of Datong and Xuanfu are embezzling?

Why make him suffer this torment?

But he dared not say it.

Because he had personally witnessed the terrifying rage his elder brother would unleash when he miscalculated the accounts.

An hour passed, and the sky outside the window gradually turned a pale white.

Sweating profusely, Zhu Qiyu finally deduced the complex account book to the last page.

"Your Majesty... has figured it out. Last year, the Left Guard of Xuanfu, along with the shortage of grain and fodder, falsely reported the amount of timber needed for city construction, embezzling a total of 34,000 taels of silver from the imperial granary."

Zhu Qiyu nervously reported the numbers, holding the draft paper filled with calculation steps above his head with both hands.

Zhu Qizhen took the draft paper and scanned it with eyes as sharp as a hawk's.

With the terrifying mental arithmetic ability he had developed over the past eight years working under Gu Yannian.

He could spot the flaws with just one glance.

"Thirty-four thousand taels?"

Zhu Qizhen's lips curled into a mocking sneer.

He crumpled the piece of paper into a ball and threw it hard at Zhu Qiyu's face.

"You useless piece of trash! The timber for the city walls listed in the accounts was calculated based on the market price of pine wood purchased by the Imperial Household Department in the capital! Xuanfu is backed by the Daqing Mountains, which are covered with forests."

"They only need to conscript soldiers to go up the mountain to cut down trees. Apart from a few coins' worth of saw and axe damage, where do they get the money for timber?!"

Zhu Qizhen leaned down and stared intently into Zhu Qiyu's terrified eyes.

"Those border generals use such despicable methods of rigging market prices to turn a risk-free business into an exorbitant expense! If you were to investigate the accounts in the Nine Border Regions using this method, they would sell you out, and you'd still be counting the silver for them!"

"Your 34,000 taels is an overstatement of 8,000 taels!"