Chapter Twenty: The Salt Transport Commissionerate

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These noble families made Qin Yong grit his teeth in fury. The Great Chu belonged to him, this realm was his, and all the people were his subjects, yet it seemed that nearly half of the kingdom’s wealth rested in the hands of these aristocratic clans. How much of this fortune had been siphoned directly from the very foundation of the Great Chu?

“Ah Bao, is it over?”

The eunuch Hu bowed and replied, “Your Majesty, it is finished. The salt routes across the realm have yielded over one hundred and twenty-one million taels of silver.”

One hundred and twenty-one million taels—this figure did not even include the annual commercial taxes. Anyone hearing this would be left unsettled.

Even the noble families present at the bidding were watching the soaring prices with strange looks aimed at Xiao Zhi. This officer wielding the spear had gathered over a hundred million taels for the imperial treasury. The emperor would surely reward him handsomely. If unrestricted, his future was boundless, and he might well become a formidable rival to the great families.

How many provinces did the Great Chu have? Soon, every region would have a master.

As the music ended, so too should the gathering disperse. The first to leave was Song Qi, who had departed without bidding farewell during the final rounds for the lower-tier provinces. Several other ministers and prominent clan members also left without a word to Xiao Zhi.

When Xiao Zhi first arrived, everyone had been warm and welcoming; now, after the auction, those friendly faces had instantly turned cold as stone.

Xiao Zhi merely sneered; if he cared about such things, he would have long since been driven mad.

“Sir, there is a letter for you.” Mu Weihhu handed an envelope to Xiao Zhi.

Xiao Zhi paused, wondering who had taken the trouble to apologize for leaving without a word. The envelope bore no signature, but upon seeing the wax seal, he carefully broke it open.

Usually, wax seals were reserved for important correspondence.

He drew out the letter and read it twice with great care, then sat stunned for a moment before bursting into raucous laughter.

The letter was from Lu Weicheng, Minister of the Court of Imperial Ceremonies, his handwriting somewhat disorderly.

It was no deathbed confession, but rather a desperate plea.

“Lord Xiao, I hope you are well. This sinful servant Lu Weicheng bows deeply…”

In the letter, Lu Weicheng humbled himself greatly, begging Xiao Zhi to spare his family, especially his children.

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He implored that the wrath of the northern barbarians be sated with his own life alone, sparing the innocent.

At the very end, Lu Weicheng even promised to gift a parcel of land to Xiao Zhi.

“What is this? Trying to bind me with your debt?”

Xiao Zhi shook his head and then had the northern barbarian envoy bound and whipped. Was this old man so frightened?

Probably too scared to leave his quarters now, unaware that the envoy had already departed the capital.

“And the messenger who delivered this?”

Xiao Zhi wanted to send a message through him, to calm the man and make sure no harm came from his fright.

Mu Weihhu replied, “A young boy, holding several letters, likely sent off to other places.”

While the Court of Imperial Ceremonies was still auctioning, Lu Weicheng had already hung white silk from his beams at home.

Since the northern barbarian envoy had been whipped the day before, Lu Weicheng had begun arranging his affairs.

He gathered his servants, selling off whatever could be sold and granting freedom to those who had served him faithfully over the years.

He arranged the futures of his two sons and two daughters—one daughter already married, of whom he could only notify but not protect; her fate was left to Heaven.

One son would return with the youngest daughter to their ancestral home, the other would remain in the capital to handle his burial.

Once everything was settled, he wrote to friends and colleagues, pleading that they show mercy to his children and not add cruelty to their suffering.

Xiao Zhi tossed the letter aside, no longer paying it any heed. Tomorrow was the grand court assembly; unless Lu Weicheng hanged himself, news of the northern envoy’s departure would surely arrive.

Besides, Xiao Zhi had more important matters to attend to.

In a remote chamber of the Imperial City Office, a middle-aged official had been waiting for three whole hours—long before his execution.

Though his heart burned with anxiety, he sat quietly, barely daring to rest even the slightest part of his body on the chair.

He seemed as if awaiting the executioner, his mind drifting into a haze.

This man was Pang Ruichen, Commissioner of Salt Transport under the Ministry of Revenue, holding the fifth rank.

The Salt Transport Office oversaw salt affairs; though not high in rank, it wielded considerable power. Wherever he went, salt merchants treated him like a deity.

After Xiao Zhi proposed the Salt Industry Act, Qin Yong decreed that the Salt Transport Office be separated from the Ministry of Revenue, ostensibly for dismantling. But only a few knew that this department would no longer answer to the Ministry of Revenue—it would instead be controlled by the Spear-Wielding Officer.

This was one of Xiao Zhi’s most crucial stratagems for Qin Yong, and whether the noble families would lose out or not hinged on this final move.

Early that morning, Pang Ruichen, just starting his shift, received an imperial order to report to the Imperial City Office to meet Xiao Zhi.

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Hearing he was to see this madman, Pang Ruichen was stunned, his legs numb.

Upon arrival, hearing the wails outside as someone was executed, he nearly soiled himself.

Xiao Zhi pushed open the door, and Pang Ruichen collapsed onto the floor.

Xiao Zhi smiled and pulled over a chair. “Are you Pang Ruichen?”

“Yes, your servant is.” Pang Ruichen did not rise but twisted his body, trembling as he knelt before Xiao Zhi.

“How much have you embezzled over the years?”

Judging by Pang Ruichen’s demeanor, Xiao Zhi knew he had no idea why he was summoned. Perhaps he thought Xiao Zhi was investigating him, so Xiao Zhi played along to probe deeper.

“I have calculated, a total of six million taels.” Pang Ruichen answered promptly; he had repeated this figure many times during the past three hours.

“How many years have you served as transport commissioner?”

“Eight years.”

Less than a million taels a year—his greed was not outrageous.

“Bring me four million taels to buy your life. Is that acceptable?”

“Tomorrow… no, today I shall deliver it to your lordship’s residence.” Pang Ruichen bowed repeatedly, grateful for the mercy. “Thank you, my lord, for sparing my life…”

“Who said you were to bring it to my residence?”

Xiao Zhi teased indifferently. Pang Ruichen broke out into a cold sweat, his official robes soaked through.

“I… I…”

Pang Ruichen’s voice trembled; Xiao Zhi feared further teasing might cause disaster.

“Bring four million taels so you can serve the court. You continue as transport commissioner—do you agree?”

Pang Ruichen had no choice but to agree, knocking his head on the floor so hard it pained Xiao Zhi to hear.

“Rise. Lord Pang outranks me—I am only sixth rank.”

“I dare not.” Pang Ruichen did not stand but propped himself up and cautiously glanced at Xiao Zhi, barely twenty years old, recently shed of boyishness.

“I do not care how much you have taken in the past. As long as you serve diligently, I will not investigate you further. But from today forward, not a single tael more may be embezzled. If I find out, old and new debts alike will be reckoned.”