Chapter 186: Requesting a Reward

Chapter 186: Requesting a Reward

Since Zong Yao's arrival, things around the Tongzhou Prefectural Office had gotten unexpectedly quieter.

Mu Jiazhi had originally planned to reprimand the yamen runners who had spied on Le Wuya and the prince's movements that day, but after he finished his work and asked about it, he found that the runner was no longer working at the office.

When he asked further, he learned Zong Yao had sent him packing.

When Mu Jiazhi asked about this matter, Zong Yao replied, "I sent him off to escort exiled convicts. He probably won't be back for a year or more."

After saying this, he asked gently in return, "Assistant Prefect Mu, do you need him? Did Wenzhi go over my head on this?"

Mu Jiazhi waved a hand, thinking to himself: the ones who needed to go were gone, and the ones who needed to stay were still here.

He actually liked Zong Wenzhi quite a bit.

As for what happened with his uncle and brother, Mu Jiazhi had heard something about it.

But that had nothing to do with him.

Mu Jiazhi kept a straight face and gave his shoulder a firm pat by way of thanks.

Zong Yao smiled blankly, as if he didn't quite get the gesture.

He asked again, "Assistant Prefect Mu, does Lord Wenren never stay home?"

The word "home" hit Mu Jiazhi right in the gut.

He lived in the yamen himself, so the office was his home.

Speaking of which, Mu Jiazhi realized that the three of them, as Tongzhou's top brass, were three bona fide bachelors.

In Tongzhou, where power struggles ran deep, that was for the best. Fewer ties, no fallback, and they could get things done.

"When he first arrived, he rarely went out." Because he was in a good mood, Mu Jiazhi, who was usually brisk and impatient, was willing to chat a bit more with him. "At that time, the Prefect had just arrived, and things in Tongzhou were rough. Now that things are looking up and he trusts us, he can go take care of business."

Zong Yao put on that innocent look typical of civil officials: "What business?"

Mu Jiazhi said flat out, "I don't know. But although Lord Wenren is young and impetuous, working with him puts your mind at ease. Don't worry, just do your job as a guardian of the border."

Zong Yao nodded dutifully: "I'm past thirty and have been a capital official for years, but I don't have much of a mind of my own. I'll simply follow wherever the Prefect and Assistant Prefect Mu point, and go where directed."

Mu Jiazhi felt a weight lift off his shoulders.

He'd secretly worried that Le Wuya, being young and hot-blooded, would follow up on Wei Yixian with a sweeping overhaul of Tongzhou from top to bottom.

On the second day after Wei Yixian was taken away, Mu Jiazhi found Le Wuya, trying to have a serious, heart-to-heart talk with him: "Tongzhou's power networks are tangled deep. If you try to make big changes, you'll hit massive resistance..."

Prefect Qian's death was still fresh in his mind.

He didn't want to end up going to pick up Le Wuya's corpse one day.

As a result, Le Wuya glanced at him and quickly ended the conversation with one sentence: "Do I look like a fool to you?"

After that, Le Wuya did settle down. Aside from criminal trials, he only dealt with things like garrison farming, rewards and punishments, promotions, civil exams, and ceremonial rules.

All these matters had one thing in common: there were precedents for everything.

It was hard to do them brilliantly, but also hard to mess them up.

Other than that, he just drilled the troops.

The most extreme thing he did was ride to Mixi and chop off the head of a centurion who'd run from battle.

Mu Jiazhi approved. Seeing Le Wuya's resolve to clean up the military, he threw himself into the work, using his oversight role and years of criminal justice experience to fight the army's corrupt elements by any means.

Zong Yao held down the fort in Tongzhou, keeping things in order while spinning his information network tighter like a spider.

Le Wuya was always on the move, bustling around, putting his gift for sweet-talking people to full use.

Le Wuya had the whole of Tongzhou, top to bottom, eating out of his hand.

The folks of Tongzhou were pretty happy with the new Prefect.

Their reasoning was plain and simple: the new lord had barely arrived when he took down a big official.

That's no small feat, right?

The common folk naturally had no clue about the behind-the-scenes scheming behind Wei Yixian's fall.

Le Wuya figured he'd let them know.

Wei Yixian had lived pretty simply in Tongzhou city, but he'd mastered the old trick of the cunning hare with three burrows to a T.

He'd stashed years of accumulated wealth—gold, silver, jewelry, silk, Buddhist statues, antiques, paintings, even pepper, rice, and flour—in hiding spots all over Tongzhou, left in the care of his brothers, uncles, and kids.

Le Wuya quietly rounded up a hundred or so laborers and, a day ahead of time, had all of Wei Mansion's hoarded wealth hauled into the Wei family home in Tongzhou city, putting on a grand show of "raiding the Wei Mansion" for the whole city to watch.

The next day, from the crack of dawn, carts loaded with boxes and trunks of every size were hauled out of the Wei residence.

By the time the first cart of the first convoy rolled into the government storehouse, the second convoy still hadn't left the Wei residence.

The townsfolk watched from morning till night, jaws dropped, getting a very up-close look at just how greedy this Assistant Prefect Wei really was.

Of course, there were also whispers that this money was just moving from one pocket to another, ending up in the new Prefect's own pockets.

Le Wuya couldn't have cared less.

In the eyes of the common folk, an official like Prefect Wenren was already the peak of what an official could be.

He didn't bother the people, didn't start big building projects like city walls or official mansions, didn't pile on corvée labor or heavy taxes, and even wrangled military pay out of the court to cover all the debts the military households had racked up.

In the eyes of the common folk, that was what they called good!

The gentry clans, watching from the sidelines, were pretty satisfied too.

Even though they couldn't tell if the Prefect was crooked or clean, which left them a bit uneasy, the fact that he hadn't dug any deeper after Wei Yixian's fall showed he knew how to read the room—he'd delivered results to the emperor without looking like he'd done nothing, and he knew when to quit.

As for him drilling his garrison troops...

Let him drill away!

Didn't the emperor send him here for exactly that?

Put on a big show, shout some slogans—that's enough. What more could he possibly stir up?

With just a few hundred men?

Once they'd set their minds at ease, the gentry clans generously returned the favor with goodwill.

This year, the entirety of Tongzhou's tax payments were paid up with unusual promptness and good cheer.

Le Wuya had also won over Tongzhou's higher-ups.

With the New Year just around the corner, Le Wuya visited each of his immediate superiors in turn.

Zheng Miao was a given.

Wearing the red sandalwood beads gifted by Zheng Miao, he stopped by the Provincial Surveillance Commission, where he scored a full set of autopsy tools forged from fine iron, a gold-inlaid snuff bottle, and a small blue-and-white porcelain dish for sunflower seeds. Finally, he tried to wrangle Captain Wang Cheng away but didn't manage it, and almost got booted out the door by Zheng Miao.

After making his way to the Governor's residence, he received an exceedingly warm welcome.

Governor Ling Yingxun, now in his forties, had a face that was round on top and square at the chin—the face of a man blessed with luck. Yet, worn by the years, weathered by wind and frost, and burdened by military affairs, his naturally jovial look had dimmed from seven-tenths to barely three-tenths.

"Feng You strongly recommended you to me," the Governor said, like the career soldier he was. "He said you've got the soul of a wandering knight and a natural gift for command. I didn't buy it—how could a desk-bound official from a merchant family have that kind of talent?"

He looked Le Wuya up and down, a flicker of approval in his eyes. "It wasn't until I heard of your achievements in Tongzhou—whipping troops into shape and building a real fighting force—that I was impressed. A man you'd cut from the ranks managed to rally his men and beat back a band of over seventy Japanese raiders... Remarkable! I, Ling Yingxun, misjudged you!"

Le Wuya quickly discerned the man's temperament and seized the opportunity: "I'm guilty, my lord—I took it upon myself to execute a centurion who claimed to be under your command..."

"Bullshit." Ling Yingxun waved a hand dismissively. "Don't mention that. I'd already busted him down to tending pigs. Damn it—some nobody of a relative, no one even knows his name, had the nerve to get promoted to centurion, and nearly got my county's folks killed!"

In the same motion, he grabbed Le Wuya by the wrist: "Come—I hear you're skilled at both riding and archery. Let's see what you've got!"

The two of them entered the drill grounds, their quivers fully loaded.

About the time it takes to burn a stick of incense, Ling Yingxun galloped to the edge of the field, soaked in sweat, and called out to a soldier with exuberant delight: "Now that's what I call fun! Bring me fifty more!"

After three rounds of shooting, he and Le Wuya had quickly become fast friends despite the age gap.

His one big regret was that Le Wuya couldn't hold his liquor.

Otherwise, Ling Yingxun would have insisted on drinking a whole jar together until they were both plastered.

Leaving the Governor's residence, Le Wuya changed outfits and made a beeline for Lord Feng Long's place at the Provincial Administration Commission.

At the Feng residence, Le Wuya respectfully presented a painting of Guanyin and a pair of blue-and-white large bowls from the Xuande kiln, saying: "My Lord, these Xuande bowls have rather ordinary painting, but the iron-rust spots are truly exquisite. As for this painting..."

He slowly unrolled the scroll: "The painting's spirit is free and unconstrained, not bound by surface appearances. Judging by the paper, ink, and brushwork, it appears to be from several hundred years ago. Your subordinate privately suspects it might be the hand of Li Gonglin, but my eyes are untrained, and I dare not be certain."

Feng Long was greatly pleased by this flattering speech, beaming as he ordered a servant to hang the painting. He first examined the brushwork, then appreciated the whole composition, and after careful study, said: "It does seem to be a genuine work of Boshi, though it's hard to confirm at a moment's notice."

Le Wuya frowned with feigned regret: "Alas, if even Lord Feng says so, then Ming Ke truly cannot be certain."

Feng Long put away his magnifying glass and clasped his hands behind his back, looking at him: "Ming Ke, where did this painting come from?"

As far as he knew, given Le Wuya's background, he could not have come by such a fine piece on his own.

Le Wuya made no attempt to conceal it and answered truthfully: "My Lord, during the search of the Wei residence, your subordinate picked out a few items. Not knowing their authenticity, nor how to catalogue them, I set them aside temporarily. Thinking you are a connoisseur of the highest order, I wished to ask you to examine them. Since their provenance is uncertain, perhaps I might leave them here for your further appreciation. When you have reached a definitive conclusion, I shall return to collect them—how does that sound?"

Feng Long laughed heartily: "Prefect Wenren, you're offering a borrowed flower to Buddha."

Le Wuya made a sweeping bow, his eyes crinkling in a smile, his tongue as smooth as lotus petals: "Guanyin alongside Buddha—how fitting."

With pleasantries exchanged and both host and guest delighted, the visit concluded.

Le Wuya had skillfully played the humble role all around and returned laden with gains.

With Zheng Miao, he was the beggar-nephew, wheedling a collection of odds and ends—trivial yet practical trinkets.

With Governor Ling, he was the capable-nephew, securing a promise of timely military pay disbursement—the funds were limited and meant for the sharpest edge. With Le Wuya around, he was that edge.

With Feng Long, Le Wuya worked hardest, playing the filial-nephew, extracting a golden promise that Tongzhou Prefecture would receive a three-tenths reduction in commercial taxes for the coming year—the court implemented rotating tax relief every three years to give the people respite, and who received it depended entirely on the word of the Provincial Administration Commissioner.

For a time, an atmosphere of peace pervaded Tongzhou, inside and out.

Even the Japanese pirates, after their last beating, had quieted down and shown no haste for revenge.

Amid the thickening scent of the New Year, everyone grew calm, waiting quietly for the festival to arrive.

As for Qi Hongzhuang, who had been rapidly acquiring and merging over a dozen weaving workshops just before the year's end—she seemed to have drawn no one's attention at all.