The ledgers compiled by the Yanzhou army were watertight—naturally, Heng Feizhang found nothing in his review.

Two more days passed, and the records delivered to Heng Feizhang were finally checked through.

Upon hearing the news, Tan Ji personally came to inquire. Ostensibly, he asked whether anything appeared out of place and whether more documents were needed. But in truth, he was probing—wanting to know when Heng Feizhang would return the ledgers.

However, at that question, a trace of hesitation appeared on Heng Feizhang’s face.

“The records will stay here for now,” he said. “I’ll return them to the General when I head back to the capital in a few days.”

“A few days?” At the mention of “ heading back to the capital,” Tan Ji’s brow twitched. He feigned indifference and asked, “Will you still need the records for anything else? If there’s anything missing, please say so plainly, and I’ll have them supplement whatever you need.”

But Heng Feizhang hesitated for a moment, then shook his head.

“There’s no issue with the books,” he said. “It’s just that General Fang specifically instructed me to keep them—I don’t know what for.”

His words were veiled, but Tan Ji saw a hint of resentment in the fatigue etched between his brows.

Now this was interesting.

“Didn’t General Fang tell you why?” Tan Ji tested the waters. “After all, the two of you were both appointed by His Majesty. And when it comes to these records, you understand them better than General Fang does. Wouldn’t it be best to coordinate?”

His tone was mild, but his gaze probing—carefully watching Heng Feizhang’s expression.

Heng Feizhang rubbed his brow, paused for a moment, then gave him a faint smile and said: “The General’s arrangements aren’t something a low-ranking civil official like me has any right to question.”

So there was discord?

Tan Ji now looked at Heng Feizhang with more scrutiny.

Yet just then, Heng Feizhang seemed to realize he had spoken out of turn. His hand paused, and he quickly smiled and said, “I was joking, General Tan. General Fang has already received the Emperor’s instructions—I only follow orders and don’t concern myself with anything else. If General Tan has any doubts, you should go ask General Fang directly.”

As he spoke, he rose to his feet, clearly preparing to see him out.

So there really was internal conflict!

Tan Ji was secretly delighted. He hadn’t expected such a major oversight to be this easy to exploit.

Well, that made sense. Over the past few days of observation, it was clear to him that Fang Linyuan wasn’t all that capable. All he had was a radiant appearance—nothing more than a handful of pretentious posturing.

Heng Feizhang was a civil official, after all. According to news from Lord Sang, this man was said to be pedantic to the extreme. Not to mention a newcomer like Fang Linyuan—he rarely even socialized with his colleagues in the capital. Naturally, he wouldn’t join forces with someone like Fang.

People hide their true hearts. While the General was busy showing off, he would forget to check behind him.

Without revealing anything on his face, Tan Ji walked with Heng Feizhang to the entrance, smiling as he reassured him that, given Fang Linyuan had taken all authority into his own hands, Lord Heng could rest and take it easy for a few days.

Heng Feizhang neither affirmed nor denied, still wearing that aloof, pedantic air of someone above factionalism.

Tan Ji couldn’t be bothered with him anymore.

He strode out of Heng Feizhang’s tent. Seeing that it was nearly dusk, he casually asked a soldier nearby, “Where’s General Fang?”

“Reporting to the General: General Fang just had supper. I heard he left the camp, but no one knows where he went,” the soldier replied. “Shall I send someone to follow him?”

Tan Ji gave a snort of laughter. “Out again?” he said. “Our General Fang really is a romantic—still won’t give up after all these days.”

The soldier beside him chuckled as well.

They had been monitoring Fang Linyuan for days and knew he had either been idling in the camp or going out to search for someone.

Apparently, he was still trying to find that woman from the other day in Shipu Alley. All they knew was her surname—Bayan (NT: wealthy in Mongolian)—but after several days, there was still no sign of her.

Bayan? That kind of grand prairie surname (NT: refers to prominent family names belonging to steppe or nomadic ethnic groups such as Mongols or Tatars)—whether real or fake—would be difficult to track. Especially in a major transport hub like Yanzhou City, it was hard to say whether  the woman was even still in town.

At that thought, Tan Ji couldn’t help but feel a twinge of schadenfreude, tinged with a trace of regret.

But the feeling passed quickly. He waved to the soldier and said, “No need to follow. If he’s meeting with Yanzhou merchants, Lord Jiang would’ve already sent word. If he’s off looking for a woman, let the brothers take a break.”

The soldier cheerily agreed, walking with Tan Ji back toward the main tent and chatting along the way. “Some of the brothers below said that General Fang, not getting any answers, started nitpicking their formations and hand-to-hand technique today.”

“Oh?” Tan Ji tilted his head slightly. “Did he find anything?”

The soldier, treating it as a joke, replied casually, “He only picked on a few instructors’ minor mistakes and then insisted that we must do a full-dress military exercise in a few days—only then can he see our real ability.”

Tan Ji laughed. “He wants to take over the War Ministry’s job too?”

The soldier grinned. “General, that’s called overstepping one’s bounds.”

“You’ve read a couple of shabby books and you already know words like that?” Tan Ji laughed and rebuked him lightly, neither too harsh nor too lenient. “Whether it’s overstepping or not isn’t for us to decide—it depends on His Majesty’s word.”

“All thanks to your fine teaching, General,” the soldier bowed and grinned. “In a couple of days, when General Fang wants to watch the drills, will you show him?”

Tan Ji gave a light snort.

“Let him watch,” he said. “If he wants to stir up trouble, we don’t need to stop him.”

*

Fang Linyuan left camp for a short while, and after confirming that no one was following him, he turned off the path into a patch of sand jujube trees.

It was nearing the hour of xū (NT: 7–9 PM). The sunset had gradually dipped behind the mountains, and the woods had gone completely dark. Only the chirping of birds and insects between the leaves echoed faintly, giving the forest an gloomy stillness.

But Fang Linyuan was completely unafraid.

It was autumn—exactly the season when the sand jujubes ripened. Holding an envelope prepared for Zhao Chu, he lazily reached up into the branches with his other hand. After some picking and choosing, he soon had a handful of plump fruits.

This skill of picking sand jujubes was something his elder brother had taught him. The ones he picked were always fully ripe—soft, sticky, and sweet, the best kind.

He casually popped one into his mouth.

Just then, a faint rustling came from behind him.

Turning his head, he saw a black-clad death warrior silently land behind him and kneel with respectful deference. “Subordinate greets the Marquis,” he said.

Zhao Chu’s man.

“Rise, there’s no need for formality.” Fang Linyuan swallowed the jujube in two bites, then stuffed the rest of the full handful into his pouch.

“I have a letter here for your master. Tell him it contains the personnel layout of the Yanzhou military encampment. I’ve marked all the soldiers who seem suspicious in each battalion. I didn’t ask for specific names, but based on their military formation and sequence, there shouldn’t be any mistake.”

“Yes, sir.” The death warrior received the envelope with both hands, and in turn handed over a sealed missive. “This is from my master, entrusted to me to deliver to the General.”

Fang Linyuan nodded and opened the envelope under the dim light filtering through the leaves.

As he read its contents, his eyes narrowed slightly.

"Over ninety percent of the disaster relief grain has been distributed. A total of over two hundred able-bodied men have gone missing. After investigation, around 210 were forcibly conscripted into the army about half a month ago—right when the Chongzhou bandit incident occurred.

I’ve kept a copy of the rosters. Additionally, I’ve acquired the records from the five largest grain merchants in the city. From last autumn to this summer, under Tan Ji’s orders, the soldiers have sold over 45,000 shi of grain in the city."

Fang Linyuan’s eyes narrowed again.

Forty-five thousand shi? (NT: 1 shi is equivalent to 100 liters. The total here is 4500 m3, around 3370 tons)

He had fought in many campaigns and knew exactly what a figure like that implied.

One shi of grain was one soldier’s monthly ration. Forty-five thousand shi—that equaled nearly five months’ worth of food for the entire army.

From last autumn to this year—it had barely been a full year. He had practically emptied half a year’s rations. How could no one starve to death in the army?

Fang Linyuan’s grip on the letter involuntarily tightened. He lowered his head and continued reading:

"All the sales records have been stolen. Additionally, discrepancies in the Yanzhou Prefecture’s warehouse inventories and grain distributions from last year are now documented. There is likely official collusion in selling state grain, though no receipts of the sales were found.

The major grain merchants of Yanzhou are all local landed gentry and clan powers, already long entangled with Jiang Huaqing. Their tax payments are false, and there is likely a connection between the grain prices and the famine itself.

Jiang Huaqing has yet to realize this. When the time is right to arrest him and search the gentry households, there should be substantial gains."

The letter stopped there. Fang Linyuan’s fingers had gone numb from gripping the paper.

Before coming here, he had assumed this was just a case of corruption among generals and officials. But he hadn’t expected these people to wield such monstrous power. With money and food in their grasp, they could manipulate a natural disaster to their advantage.

Their influence was so far-reaching it blanketed all of Yanzhou. It was only because it had permeated the ranks so deeply that he’d caught the scent of it, and only by following the trail had he uncovered such a vast chain of interests.

Only… they had brought barely over a hundred soldiers with them.

Gentry, powerful clans, generals, and local officials—there were too many of them to round up in one sweep.

Fang Linyuan held the letter with one hand, his brows lowered in thought.

“The Master asked me to tell the Marquis: the evidence is now complete, and you may start making arrests within the army,” said the death warrior. “In the city, our people are already in place—Jiang Huaqing won’t escape. As for the other gentry, they’re just a rabble. General need not worry.”

Was that so? If that was the case, capturing someone like Tan Ji would be a breeze.

All he needed was a full military drill. Once the troops were deployed and dispersed, he could seize the moment to strike and arrest that bloated pig. The rest could be handled afterward—confronting each with the evidence.

But was the situation in the city really as simple as Zhao Chu made it sound?

Fang Linyuan’s brow twitched slightly. He turned to look at the death warrior.

He remembered this man—last time in Jibei, he had accidentally let something slip. Seemed a bit slow-witted, not very good at lying.

“Is your master really telling the truth?” he asked.

As expected, the death warrior said nothing.

“How many of you came along this time?” Fang Linyuan followed up.

“Twenty,” the death warrior replied concisely.

Fang Linyuan gave a small nod. “The gentry and powerful clans all have their own guards. Naturally, the yamen has constables and soldiers too. Your master has only a few house servants, coachmen, and some merchants by his side. And you—only twenty men, and all of you must remain hidden, unable to show yourselves.”

At this, he asked the death warrior again: “Is it really as easy to deal with them as your master claims?”

The death warrior fell silent again.

Fang Linyuan understood.

Zhao Chu had sent this letter to placate him, to coax him into becoming the one who would arrest the corrupt officials and reap the glory, while Zhao himself would face the pack of wolves in the city alone.

Zhao Chu… he had always been like this.

Fang Linyuan gave a quiet sigh and pulled the letter from the death warrior’s hands, opened it, and added a line at the bottom: “I intend to arrest both Jiang and Tan. Young Master Zhu, follow orders and do not act without permission.”

After writing, he folded the letter a few times and slipped it back into the envelope.

“All right. Just deliver the message. Aside from what I’ve asked you to say, say nothing else.”

With that, he pushed the envelope back into the death warrior’s hands.

Just as he withdrew his hand, something occurred to him. He reached for the pouch at his side and took out a small bundle—heavy with the sand jujubes he had carefully picked—and placed it into the death warrior’s hands as well.

“Take this to him too,” he said with a smile.

“This is…?” The death warrior took it with both hands, looking puzzled.

Fang Linyuan paused for a moment, then smiled. “A gift,” he said. “Tell him—it’s for Miss Bayan.”

 

--

The author has something to say:

Zhao Chu: For Young Master Chu, it’s a military order. For Miss Bayan, it’s sweet jujubes. Got it—my wife likes seeing me in a skirt.

Fang Linyuan: ???

 

Translator : DarNan