Chapter 49: Disguise (2)

Chapter 49: Disguise (2)

Jiang He returned to the Sixth Prince's residence, planning to rest well as ordered, but from a distance, he heard the melodious sound of a flute coming from Shuangsuo Hall.

He knew something was off, found Ru Feng, and asked if the Sixth Prince had left the residence that day.

Today, the well pulley at the prince's residence had broken, and Ru Feng was in the midst of hiring a craftsman to repair it.

Spring arrived early in the capital, and Ru Feng had been running all over the place, sweating so much his nose was beaded with sweat. Without bothering to listen clearly to Jiang He's question, he briskly said, "The prince has been playing the flute for the better part of an hour. If you need to report, wait another quarter or half hour—should be just about done!"

With that, he was gone in a flash.

Jiang He stood there dumbstruck, realizing he had screwed up.

As soon as the Sixth Prince stepped out of Shuangsuo Hall, he saw Jiang He kneeling outside, asking for punishment.

After hearing the full story, the Sixth Prince did not blame him. Instead, he rewarded him with a pouch and told him to rest well.

Feeling deeply unworthy of the favor, Jiang He returned to his courtyard and did a handstand for an hour as punishment to himself.

…

The next day, the emperor summoned all officials for a meeting.

Both Xiang Zhijie and Xiang Zhishi were in attendance.

At dawn, with stars still in the sky, the adult princes with official duties had already gathered in the court chamber.

Xiang Zhishi, uncharacteristically, greeted Xiang Zhijie: "Sixth Brother, I haven't seen you in a while. What have you been busy with?"

Faced with his younger brother who was asking with obvious malice and pretense, Xiang Zhijie thought for a moment and replied, "I recently acquired a new flute score and have been busy proofreading it."

"How refined, Sixth Brother."

"And you, Zhishi, are quite the man of leisure."

Before them was a scene of fraternal harmony, but their words carried hidden meanings—outwardly close but inwardly at odds, always at cross-purposes.

Xiang Zhishi feigned grievance: "Sixth Brother, have you misunderstood me? I wouldn't dare assume your identity. Yesterday, I didn't get a word in before your guard captain told me everything in detail. I had no chance to defend myself."

Xiang Zhijie shifted his gaze and landed on the identical blue robe and crimson skirt that his younger brother wore.

Although court dress regulations were strict, the jade at Xiaoqi's waist and the pearl on his crown were of the finest quality.

If he had been dressed so extravagantly yesterday, even Jiang He, dull as he might be, would have seen through his disguise at a glance.

Noticing where his gaze had fallen, the Seventh Prince knew his act was up.

"Sixth Brother, it wasn't easy for me to find a robe similar to yours, so don't be so picky, will you?" Xiang Zhishi said with a slight smile. "You shouldn't be so frugal all the time. If there's anything lacking in your residence, just tell me, your seventh brother. We're born of the same mother—what can't we discuss or share?"

The Fifth Prince, Xiang Zhiyun, seeing their apparent closeness, interjected: "Sixth Brother, Seventh Brother, what are you talking about?"

"Nothing. Just chatting about family matters." Xiang Zhishi stepped forward with his hands behind his back, leaning in familiarly, "Fifth Brother, you look much better lately."

Not having caught their earlier conversation, Xiang Zhiyun simply assumed their murmurs stemmed from fraternal affection and smiled: "Is that so?"

The Sixth Prince: "Recently, a wandering physician named Cui Gangying has gained quite a reputation in the capital for treating lung and stomach ailments. Everyone praises him as a master of medicine. Fifth Brother, you could send someone to invite him—it might ease your cough."

Xiang Zhiyun wanted to say he was fine, but as soon as he opened his mouth, he started coughing harshly.

After finally catching his breath and panting twice, he said: "Thank you… Sixth Brother, for the recommendation."

The Seventh Prince seized the moment to lean in: "Sixth Brother, for someone so concerned with wandering physicians, could you be unwell yourself?"

Hearing this, Xiang Zhiyun grew slightly uneasy, but after carefully observing the Sixth Prince's complexion, he relaxed a little: "Xiaoliu has been strong since childhood. Though he was ill a few years ago, he seems fully recovered now."

A faint flush rose on Xiang Zhijie's face, and he lowered his head without speaking.

Xiang Zhishi feigned surprise: "That's it?"

Both turned to look at him.

"Fifth Brother, instead of just gratitude, why not return the favor?" Xiang Zhishi eagerly played the mediator, "I heard Sixth Brother wants a portrait done. There's a painter in the capital named Huang Gongchang—highly skilled, but very expensive. Wealthy patrons who seek his work are already booked until June of the year after next. Sixth Brother has always been frugal, so he'd never spend that money. Fifth Brother, why not chip in some extra for the painter's fee and help him out?"

Xiang Zhiyun shook his head with a laugh: "Seventh Brother, you're promoting this so hard—come clean, what did Mr. Huang promise you?"

Xiang Zhishi, without batting an eye: "Of course I'll take half the painting fee!"

Just as Xiang Zhiyun's smile was about to broaden, a close attendant pushed open the door and announced with a beaming face: "His Majesty has taken his seat in the Zhaoming Hall. Princes, please proceed to the imperial pathway."

Xiang Zhiyun's smile quickly faded. He adjusted his collar slightly and led the way out.

From afar, the sound of the ceremonial whip cracked through the air.

Hemmed in by the pale starlight and the red walls, his face, which had briefly regained a rosy hue, gradually turned to a numb, sickly pallor.

…

Le Wuya's road-building project was launched with great fanfare.

This project could benefit thousands and bless future generations.

But with so many people, getting everyone on the same page was hard.

In the early stages, Le Wuya had done meticulous work, combed through meticulously, satisfying the demands of most county residents.

Even so, there were still three households in the city that refused to allow the road construction.

One household said that building the road would require cutting down a century-old tree in front of their gate. That tree had absorbed the essence of heaven and earth for a hundred years—it was half a tree spirit. Even if it were moved half a foot, it would ruin their family's feng shui for generations, and their ancestors would crawl out of their graves at midnight and strangle him.

Another household said that their eighty-year-old mother had been widowed for many years. Their father had died young in a distant land, and only his bones had been brought home. They scattered the bones at their doorstep, wanting him nearby every day. Digging up the road in front of their door would be like desecrating their ancestral graves. If the old mother were frightened and passed out from grief, meeting her husband in the afterlife, the yamen would be guilty of killing an innocent person and face a lawsuit.

The third household said that their home was in the busiest part of Nanting County. Once merchants flocked there, it would become noisy and chaotic. They wanted their original peace and quiet, not the road.

Deputy Magistrate Sun had just returned from a long journey from out of town yesterday.

Le Wuya had granted him five days of leave, so the yamen's affairs were still handled by Le Wuya and the secretary, with Clerk Duan from the Household Office assisting on the side.

The secretary knew the new magistrate's temperament all too well, but had been slick for so many years it was second nature, and he rambled on for ages about these three households' demands before barely managing to get the gist across.

Listening to him, Le Wuya felt like he was wading through a pedantic essay—full of grievances about unruly subjects who defied imperial grace and remained unenlightened.

Just as his head started to ache from all that poison, Le Wuya decisively waved his hand and said, "Change, change, change. Let someone else explain it to me. Old Duan, give me the gist in three sentences—what do these three families actually want?"

Clerk Duan, a fairly straightforward man, sighed and said, "Magistrate, to put it bluntly, it's about money."

"They think, since you're a scholar who just made a name for yourself in front of the Imperial Commissioner, you'll want to appear upright, incorruptible, and devoted to the people. They assume you won't bully the common folk at this time, so they've gotten greedy ideas."

"I went around asking. Moving the tree, relocating the grave, compensation—all told, they want about twenty-five taels of silver."

Le Wuya propped his chin on his folding fan: "In the past, when decrees could not be carried out, what did you do?"

"Your Honor, to be honest, we would send yamen runners to threaten them a bit, then slip them some silver, and it would be settled."

Clerk Duan did some quick mental math and added, "After haggling, about ten taels of silver could settle it."

Le Wuya said, "Oh? I'm repairing the road for them, and I still have to pay them? Do I look like a cheap pushover or a spineless wimp?"

That was a tough one to answer, so Clerk Duan pretended not to hear: "Please instruct us, Your Honor."

Le Wuya turned to Wenren Yue beside him, propping his cheek on his hand as he looked at him.

Wenren Yue had set up his own desk on the other side of the study and was just about to write an article. Seeing that the ink in Le Wuya's inkstone was nearly dry, he stepped forward to grind the ink.

These days, the clerks in the yamen had long since gotten used to the presence of the aide known as Scholar Ming.

...Even though this aide was truly green, most of his ideas were rejected by the magistrate, who often took the chance to make fun of him.

Wenren Yue continued his work without pausing, and after a moment's thought, said: "If they don't want it fixed, then leave it as is."

Having been criticized for so long, Wenren Yue had learned his lesson.

Previously, the dispute over the eaves between the Wu and Dou families had taught him a lesson.

Using money to fill people's insatiable desires is like trying to put out a fire with firewood.

Moreover, the road repair was known throughout the county. If we make an exception and word gets out that anyone can make money from the yamen just by making up an excuse, the entire county of Nanting would be in chaos.

Le Wuya's eyes lit up, and he hummed: "Go on."

Seeing his reaction, Wenren Yue knew he was on the right track.

Wenren Yue's gaze fell on the road map that he had drawn himself on the wall: "Where are those three families located?"

Clerk Duan pointed them out one by one.

Wenren Yue pressed his finger to his lips, pondered for a long while, then lifted his sleeve and drew three circles with his finger, centered on those three families:

"The first family: a century-old tree with deep roots."

"The second family: father's remains are buried there and cannot be disturbed."

"The third family: located in a bustling area, afraid of noise and crowds."

"Tell the ten neighboring households on either side that because of these reasons, the section of road in front of their doors will not be repaired and will remain as is, to show the magistrate's concern for the people's livelihood."

From then on, these three families would soon be in for a lot of drama.

Le Wuya chuckled happily.

Nice, he's learning!

Seeing Le Wuya's expression, how could Clerk Duan not know that Scholar Ming's idea was exactly what he wanted?

He gave a quick bow on one knee, silently withdrew, and intended to carry out the matter according to the plan.

Before handling the matter, he had to go to his aunt's house to tell his good-for-nothing nephew that the magistrate was really not easy to deal with, and that he should cooperate quietly on the road repair and stop thinking about making a fuss to skim money off the project as before.

If he landed on the magistrate's list of troublemakers, he'd never hear the end of it.

Clerk Duan took his leave, but the secretary didn't budge from his seat.

Not only was he steady, but he also glanced at Wenren Yue out of the corner of his eye, as if he wanted to speak but hesitated.

"Why are you staring at my man?" Le Wuya joked. "Do you fancy him and want to take him as a son-in-law? Too late! Once he takes the exams and becomes top scholar, a bunch of prime ministers and vice ministers will be waiting to grab him as a son-in-law as soon as the results are posted!"

A bead of sweat appeared on the secretary's pallid, sallow face.

He took out a handkerchief and slowly dabbed it away: "Your Honor, there is a serious matter I wish to discuss with you."

Le Wuya's curiosity was piqued.

Could this secretary really have something important to say?

Now that's worth hearing.

The two exchanged a glance, and Wenren Yue quietly left.

When only the two remained in the study, the secretary finally stroked his beard and spoke: "Your Honor, it's like this: the secretary of Prefect Lyu is my uncle (on my mother's side)."

Le Wuya said with fake sincerity: "Secretary, your family really has deep scholarly roots."

The secretary always felt that this remark was ambiguous, so he forced a smile and took out his handkerchief again to wipe his dry forehead.

Recently, having dealt with the magistrate quite often, the secretary believed he had more or less understood the magistrate's temperament.

According to the secretary's own inclination, he didn't want to be the messenger at all.

Getting chewed out to his face was tolerable, but if the magistrate secretly bore a grudge against him, the loss would outweigh any gain.

But there was no help for it.

A higher-ranked official can crush you. And you can't defy filial piety.

Two mountains were weighing down on him, and he couldn't avoid coming even if he wanted to.

Filled with resentment, the secretary's tone had a tragic, death-defying air: "Your Honor, we've been confiscating the Chen family's property for so long, and the inventory and storage are almost done. There is now a considerable surplus in the treasury. Shouldn't we... make some moves?"

Le Wuya looked up at him, first puzzled as to why he would utter such blatant nonsense to his face, then suddenly enlightened.

Ah, so that's what this is about.

In his previous life, it was always others who took pains to find precious and exotic local products to curry favor with him; Le Wuya hadn't yet adapted to the change in his status.

He was a seventh-rank official, and in the prime of youth, just the age to claw his way up the ladder.

By common sense, having confiscated the property of a senior secretary, how could he pocket it all? Of course, he should select some valuable stationery, paintings, and calligraphy works to curry favor with higher-ups.

The last time, Prefect Lyu had been all smiles and courtesy, probably because he had already had his eye on the Chen family's spoils.

But he sat in his office, waiting in vain for a tribute, so naturally he would send his secretary to warn him—"Young man, you should know better."

The Imperial Commissioner was far away and beyond reach; it was still Prefect Lyu who could decide whether Le Wuya's days as a county magistrate were comfortable or not.

Having understood this key point, Le Wuya's brows relaxed, and he casually picked up his teacup.

The steaming tea scent rose, blurring his eyes and brows.

Even though he could not see his eyes clearly, the secretary still felt Le Wuya's sharp eyes on him.

The gaze was cold and hard, carrying a startling force: "Clerk, trouble you to find out, how much of a cut do you get?"

The clerk had never heard anyone speak so bluntly. He grabbed his snuff bottle and took two deep sniffs, afraid he might faint.

The handkerchief he had pulled out finally came in handy.

Seeing him sweating profusely and wiping his face repeatedly, Le Wuya felt he had gone a bit overboard with the teasing.

This government office was full of shrewd people. Although the clerk was a good-for-nothing, he was harmless at least, and keeping him around for amusement was rather interesting.

He took a sip of tea, closed the lid, and softened his tone a little: "The Chen family indeed had many valuable calligraphy and paintings—You Mingzu's 'Spring Mountain in Full Bloom' of the Li Dynasty, and the original 'Treatise on the Tip of the Blade' by Fu Xuefeng of the Huan Dynasty."

After listing them all, Le Wuya shifted gears: "However, these have all been registered and sent to the prefectural treasury. If sent directly to the Prefect's mansion, it would be too conspicuous. If anyone asks where these paintings came from, it would be hard to explain."

The clerk kept wiping his sweat and nodding.

Le Wuya opened his fan and fanned himself at a leisurely pace, bringing a gentle breeze: "In the coming days, I will invite a renowned calligraphy and painting expert to appraise these works. Then, 'Spring Mountain in Full Bloom' and 'Treatise on the Tip of the Blade' will be deemed later imitations. The treasury naturally won't want fakes, so I'll trouble you, Clerk, to set a price of one hundred taels and sell these two works on consignment at a trustworthy art shop. Then, Prefect Lyu can spend a little silver to buy them back. Won't that return them to their rightful owner?"

The clerk was suddenly enlightened. Just as a hint of delight appeared on his face, he remembered he was still in front of Le Wuya and quickly stiffened his expression, putting on a sorrowful and solemn look: "Yes, thank you for your guidance, Magistrate."

Le Wuya grinned: "You're welcome."

After all, those two were both fakes, worth less than five taels together.

He had heard that Prefect Lyu only loved tea tasting and didn't know much about calligraphy and painting. If he got these stolen goods, he probably wouldn't dare to display them publicly. He would either collect them or secretly resell them.

If he kept them as family heirlooms, that would mean everyone would be happy.

If he secretly resold them, he would likely be unable to hide it and would offend his superiors.

But if he adhered to his principles and refused to bribe, he would still offend him.

Either way, he'd offend someone. He might as well pocket some money and plant a few extra trees along the road.

The completely oblivious clerk took his leave slowly.

Wenren Yue pushed the door and entered.

Le Wuya waved with a smile: "Come, come, come over here."

He was just about to test Wenren Yue with the fresh question of how to deal with a superior's bribery demands when he heard Wenren Yue say, "Someone has come from the capital."

Jiang He had visited Nanting twice in a row, so others were no longer surprised.

Wenren Yue held up a finely mounted scroll with both hands: "...and also sent a scroll painting."

"...So fast."

Le Wuya unrolled the scroll and his eyes lit up: "Oh."

Judging by the brushstrokes, it was a work by Elder Huang.

Elder Huang was extremely skilled at painting people, capturing both form and spirit, and was highly favored by nobles in the capital.

Le Wuya still remembered that in his previous life, on a whim, he offered a high price to invite the venerable Mr. Huang Gongchang to paint a family portrait for General Zhaoyi's entire household, and then insert himself—a concubine's son who had already moved out (and received his share)—into it. Elder Huang had turned down the commission.

His reason was rather odd:

"Since it's a family portrait, the whole family should be together."

"Inserting a person in the middle would only make that person look like an outsider, with an expression inconsistent with those around him. Why force it?"

Then, looking at the content of the painting, Le Wuya raised an eyebrow almost imperceptibly.

The person in the painting wore simple and clean clothes, without any adornments, with downcast eyes and a sincere look, as if a little embarrassed.

Le Wuya reached out and touched the face of the person in the painting.

When he unrolled the scroll, Wenren Yue had intended to continue grinding ink for him. As he stepped forward, he accidentally caught a glimpse and his breath hitched slightly.

This seemed to be the elder of the two princes.

"...Why would he send a portrait of himself?"

Le Wuya had no idea what Wenren Yue was thinking.

At this moment, he was quite puzzled:

"He asked for Xiaoliu's portrait – so why did they send Xiaoqi's?"