Chapter 122: Demotion

Chapter 122: Punishment

Jiang Xun tilted his head slightly and smiled, "Any way?"

He raised his voice, "Wang An, prepare the flogging."

Before long, hasty footsteps clattered outside the hall. Through the rice paper windows, one could see guards holding flickering orange lanterns, their light casting dotted halos on the paper. Shadows flickered outside the door as something heavy was placed at the entrance, followed by the sound of guards moving and the stifled whimpers of a young man.

Shen Xiu seemed to have had his mouth gagged with cloth, unable to speak, only letting out faint, breathy sounds.

He thrashed violently on the flogging bench, prompting Wang An to scold in a hushed tone, "Didn’t you gag him properly? If his screams disturb His Majesty later, who among you can bear the responsibility?"

Though Wang An’s reprimand was quiet, the room was utterly silent—Shen Que knelt without a word, and Jiang Xun remained equally silent—so every syllable carried clearly to their ears.

At the eunuch’s command, the guards adjusted the gag’s tightness. Shen Xiu writhed fiercely, letting out a few indistinct groans before his mouth was completely sealed, rendering him speechless.

Then, two burly men pressed him down onto the bench. A thick rod, the width of a bowl’s mouth, was raised and pressed against his clothed thigh. Jiang Xun and Shen Que inside could clearly track the rod’s swing.

Shen Que turned his head away, unable to watch the scene outside.

His nephew was hot-headed and brash, priding himself on being a paragon of integrity, often speaking recklessly—especially after drinking. Shen Que had disciplined him before, forcing him to kneel in the ancestral hall repeatedly. But with his own duties keeping him busy, he couldn’t supervise the boy every day. And now, this oversight had brought calamity.

With the matter brought before the Emperor, how could this end well?

Jiang Xun, however, lifted his teacup and blew across its rim. "Watch."

"..."

Shen Que forced himself to open his eyes and look outside.

The crack of the rod against flesh mingled with the howling wind reached them. With the strength of the palace guards, a few strikes could shatter bones. Shen Que lowered his gaze, his eyelid flinching with each blow. Under the lamplight, Jiang Xun observed Shen Que’s refined features—his furrowed brows, his lashes fluttering at every strike, his lips pressed tightly together, his face pallid with dread. By the end, his body even trembled in sync with the sounds.

Jiang Xun then asked softly, "66, has he had enough?"

66 scrolled through its display. "Let me see... almost there."

At that moment, Wang An called for a halt. Palace beatings ran in sets of twenty strikes before switching executioners to ensure the blows remained forceful enough for punishment. Shen Que watched helplessly as two new guards, hulking and formidable, took over the rod, positioning themselves on either side.

He had already bitten his lower lip until it bled.

The sight of that crimson stain made Jiang Xun’s brow twitch. He reached out, freeing Shen Que’s lip from his teeth and wiping away the blood.

His fingertip was warm against Shen Que’s lips. Shen Que looked up at him, as if receiving some unspoken signal. In an instant, countless emotions flickered across his face before he suddenly lowered his gaze and let his tongue brush against Jiang Xun’s fingertip.

Before Jiang Xun could react, he gave a gentle suck—part flattery, part plea.

For someone of Shen Que’s dignity, this was likely the most outrageous thing he could bring himself to do.

Shen Que murmured, "Your Majesty, let this unworthy servant endure them."

His tone was earnest, as if asking for some grand favor.

Jiang Xun paused before saying, "Stop."

Had Shen Que not intervened, he would have called for a halt anyway.

The sounds outside ceased.

Shen Que let out a barely audible sigh, then leaned forward to undo Jiang Xun’s buttons. With ceremonial care, he removed the Emperor’s belt like a dutiful attendant assisting with undressing. But then he hesitated, unsure how to proceed further.

Jiang Xun remained silent.

The Emperor's expression was calm, devoid of any trace of emotion. Shen Que then adjusted his robes and knelt, saying, "Your Majesty, please order the punishment."

Forty strokes remained—perhaps, he could endure them.

Jiang Xun still did not speak. He gazed at Shen Que, who seemed the very embodiment of the refined, noble scholar-official idealized by later generations. He knelt quietly, his posture as poised as an ancient painting.

Historical chronicles praised him as a man of extraordinary talent, hailing him as the Qingyi Prime Minister. Even in modern fandom circles, Shen Que was a popular figure.

Young girls joked about him with all sorts of terms. Jiang Xun had once overheard them comparing Shen Que to Shen Xiu's widowed elder sister-in-law, who had raised the boy alone, enduring endless hardship.

Jiang Xun thought: What endless hardship indeed.

At the time, he had brushed it off with a laugh. But now, with the man kneeling before him, head bowed, accepting any punishment to save Shen Xiu—willing to endure any humiliation—he couldn’t help but recall that description.

"..."

For Shen Xiu's sake, he had already requested one round of punishment, and now he was asking for another.

The Emperor pulled the blanket over himself and lay down. "It’s late, and the dew is thick. I have no time to waste with you. Those forty strokes—they are owed."

Shen Que: "...As you command."

After a pause, he added, "Your Majesty…"

Before he could finish, Jiang Xun said, "Shen Xiu's misconduct warrants twenty strokes as light discipline. He will no longer serve as a censor in the capital. He is demoted to Military Advisor of the Two Lakes."

Shen Que hesitated.

Not because the punishment was too severe—but because it was too light.

For such an offense, a life sentence in prison would not have been impossible. Yet he was merely demoted, and not to some plague-ridden backwater, but to the prosperous and beautiful Two Lakes. It was an unusual leniency.

And the Emperor had demanded nothing in return.

After a moment of hesitation, unsure of the Emperor's intentions, Shen Que tentatively sat on the edge of the bed and eased gently at Jiang Xun's blanket.

The Emperor was covering himself too tightly—he’d struggle to breathe.

But Jiang Xun said nothing, silently tightening his grip on the blanket. Shen Que dared not pull harder. After another pause, he half-reclined on the edge of the bed and fell silent.

Jiang Xun yielded him a corner of the blanket and turned away to sleep.

Under the covers, 66 poked its seemingly lifeless host. "Psst, hey Host, they've taken Shen Xiu away outside."

The system had been perched on the windowsill earlier, watching the scene unfold clearly.

Jiang Xun: "I know."

66: "How will you convey your thoughts to him, Host?"

The system mused, "He'll soon leave the capital, and after his injuries, he'll surely seclude himself. Without using your identity as Emperor, you won't be able to see him, right?"

Jiang Xun: "Patience. I’ll manage."

He closed his eyes and spoke no more.

Only after Jiang Xun had fallen asleep did Shen Que finally seize the moment to free the blanket from his face. *Footnote: Qingyi Prime Minister refers to a highly respected scholar-official known for his wisdom and integrity, symbolized by the blue robes traditionally worn by lower-ranking officials.*

That day, the Imperial Tutor stayed overnight in the Qianqing Palace.

The next morning, Shen Xiu was demoted for improper conduct, from a capital censor to Chief Administrator of the Two Lakes region.

The court was abuzz with speculation for a while, mostly about why the Emperor had a change of heart, and also about Shen Que staying overnight—both matters seemed rather absurd. Yet the two parties involved appeared indifferent, showing little concern.

Jiang Xun had long planned Shen Xiu’s reassignment—he was sending him to Song Zhizhang.

Historically, the chaos in the Two Lakes wasn’t just due to floods and droughts; another major reason was corruption.

Whether it was relief grain allocated by the court or funds for building dams and dikes, officials in the Two Lakes took their cut at every level, pocketing most of it. Fortunately, Song Zhizhang was relatively upright and not thoroughly corrupt.

But at this time, Song Zhizhang hadn’t been the Two Lakes governor for long. Even a mighty dragon struggles to crush a local snake, and he lacked capable subordinates. The local gentry and powerful families in the Two Lakes were deeply entrenched, with sprawling connections. To uproot these cancerous elements, Song Zhizhang alone wasn’t enough.

Jiang Xun pondered and reviewed all recorded officials of the Great Wei dynasty in history, deciding that Shen Xiu was a good fit.

First, his family background was outstanding—the nephew of the Grand Tutor. Half the civil officials in the capital could be addressed as his uncles, ensuring he wouldn’t be immediately crushed by local powers upon arriving in the Two Lakes.

Second, he was hot-headed and unpolished, no diplomat. While this made him a magnet for trouble in the capital—something Jiang Xun found irritating—it was precisely what was needed to investigate corruption in the Two Lakes. Rooting out corruption needed someone like him.

A blade can cut both ways, but placed in the right spot, it became a rare weapon.

With Shen Xiu’s pride, he would never collude with the corrupt.

Jiang Xun remembered that in Great Wei’s final years, after the fall of the dynasty, Shen Xiu had been tempered by experience and became worldlier, yet history still praised him as "upright and incorruptible." In his old age, he had even swung his court tablet at grafters in open court. Jiang Xun trusted his character.

So on the day Shen Xiu left the capital for his distant post, Jiang Xun also departed the city.

Using the same excuse of listening to music with Xu Ping and Xu Ying, he slipped out midway from the brothel, wearing a face-veil that draped over him in white gauze.

He reserved a private room in a tavern along Shen Xiu’s inevitable departure route and handed a silver ingot and a note to a waiter, instructing him to stop Shen Xiu’s carriage.

The waiter was baffled. Though Shen Xiu was in disgrace, he was still far beyond the waiter’s reach. He assumed Jiang Xun was teasing him, but Jiang Xun carried himself with ease and an air of nobility—perhaps a noble incognito. Not daring to disobey, the waiter tentatively halted Shen Xiu’s carriage.

Demoted and in a foul mood, Shen Xiu wasn’t in the mood for interruptions. He snatched the note with a glare but froze upon reading it.

Jiang Xun had written only one line: "How was the flogging? Can you sit and lie normally?"

The meaning was obscure, but Shen Xiu went rigid, then sat bolt upright.

Others didn’t know, but Shen Xiu was well aware—the punishment had been lenient.

Not just a little lenient, but extremely so. Though the strokes had sounded fierce, they were just for show. A mere sting, but Shen Xiu didn’t even need bed rest to move around.

He had assumed his uncle had interceded with the Emperor, but this was a secret known only to a few. Fearing his uncle might face trouble, Shen Xiu had pretended to be bedridden for days, playing up his injuries in the carriage. Now, out of nowhere, someone had sent a note exposing the truth?

He couldn’t help but look up.

At the window seat on the tavern’s second floor sat a figure.

Face obscured, their posture was relaxed, robes fluttering in the wind, the picture of ease. Holding a cup, they tilted their head to glance downward—likely a tall, young gentleman.

Shen Xiu had no choice but to say, "Stop the carriage."

Under the cover of the carriage curtain, he slipped out unnoticed and entered the tavern through a side door, heading straight for the second floor.

Jiang Xun sat behind a screen.

Not only had he lowered the curtain, but he’d also set up a screen—semi-transparent Su embroidery, faintly outlining his figure. Seeing Shen Xiu enter, Jiang Xun slightly raised a hand, gesturing for him to sit.

Shen Xiu was deeply suspicious as he took a seat opposite Jiang Xun. Before he could speak, his gaze fell upon the desk, and he was instantly horrified.

There lay a silver ingot, intricately carved with auspicious motifs—lotus and holly entwined—clearly an item from the palace.

Shen Xiu was a flighty sort, and to get him to act, intimidation was necessary. Jiang Xun had deliberately brought a palace silver ingot for this purpose.

Yet, to his surprise, Shen Xiu half-lunged across the table, blurted, "You're Mr. Xun!"

Jiang Xun was momentarily taken aback, then realized Song Zhizhang must have corresponded with Shen Que, so it was natural for Shen Xiu to know of him. This saved him the trouble of explaining his identity, so he let it stand.

Shen Xiu slumped back, embarrassed. "Sir... why did you ask about the court flogging?"

He was still preoccupied with the note.

Jiang Xun altered his voice and dropped a thunderbolt: "I was the one who cleared you."

This was true—Shen Xiu's punishment had been entirely directed by Jiang Xun. To ensure Shen Xiu followed his instructions, he needed to start with intimidation.

Sure enough, upon hearing this, Shen Xiu almost fumbled his teacup. Trembling, he stood up, gaping at Jiang Xun, his eyes wide. "Your doing?"

He had only known from the letter that Mr. Xun possessed the talent to govern and bring order to the world. But to meddle in palace affairs and manipulate punishments—what kind of power was this, to overturn the world with a wave of his hand?

Seeing Shen Xiu's stunned silence, Jiang Xun knew the intimidation had worked.

He then pushed a letter across. "On your journey to Lianghu, there are a few matters I hope you will attend to."

Shen Xiu snapped to attention. "Please speak."

Jiang Xun gestured for him to open the letter. "I’ve listed most officials currently in power in Lianghu, along with their affiliations, whether they are corrupt, and their weaknesses. Those marked in green can be trusted, those unmarked are usable, and those marked in red..."

Jiang Xun paused. "Kill them."

They were all infamous grafters from later history—only their deaths would satisfy the people.

Shen Xiu opened the letter. The list was painstakingly thorough, laying bare the backgrounds of Lianghu's officials. He gaped. "But how?"

The names included high-ranking officials and powerful clans. Even if Shen Xiu were a prefect, let alone a mere secretary, he would be powerless.

Jiang Xun replied, "You need not act. Just gather evidence and submit a report."

Wary of his real voice slipping, he spoke tersely and softly, keeping his words brief.

To Shen Xiu, it sounded distant and cryptic.

Though they had only met for twenty minutes, Shen Xiu felt equal parts awed and terrified of this "Mr. Xun."

Shen Xiu smiled bitterly. "Sir, you may not know, but I've lost the Emperor’s favor and was banished from the capital. Though my uncle remains in court, he is also hemmed in. My memorials will likely have little effect."

Jiang Xun said simply, "Just submit them."

Shen Xiu only needed to submit the reports. As for the executions—that was the Emperor’s task.