Three days later.
Xu Wuyou sat behind a broad desk, verifying the entry and exit ledgers for the month at various docks along the capital’s waterways line by line, relying on the bright sunlight streaming in through the window.
A pair of large watermelons sat chilled in an ice chest nearby, giving off faint coolness that failed to suppress the irritation filling the room.
“Eldest Young Master Xu! This job is impossible!”
A gruff voice, mingled with frantic footsteps, burst in from the courtyard into the hall.
Feng Kun, the manager of the Tongji Shipping Association, stumbled over the threshold, drenched in sweat, bracing himself against the doorframe as he gasped for breath.
Xu Wuyou set his brush aside on the inkstone, glanced at Feng Kun, and did not immediately respond. Instead, he calmly closed the ledger in front of him before speaking unhurriedly, “Manager Feng, what’s got you in such a frantic rush this time? Which plague god has shown up?”
“Over forty boats are jammed up at the head of the dam!”
Feng Kun slapped his thigh in desperation, not even pausing to ask for a drink of water, and rushed over to the desk to vent his frustrations.
“Those ruthless officials at the Grain Office stubbornly claim the grain we shipped is substandard and refuse to stamp the customs clearance documents!”
Lao Zhou, who had been working on an abacus at a lower seat, stopped his calculations and furrowed his brow deeply.
This was indeed a thorny issue.
The imperial court had urgently redirected three hundred thousand piculs from this year’s grain tribute to serve as military provisions for the northern frontier.
The main organizer for this venture was the Tongji Shipping Association, and theoretically, it wasn’t the concern of the Waterway Office below them.
But the sheer volume of three hundred thousand piculs was massive. Now, with the Grain Office holding it up at the dam head at Tongzhou, the merchant cargo ships queued behind for passage through the locks were jammed into chaos.
The Waterway Office oversaw dispatch and waterway permits for the capital’s water transport. If the river route was cut off, it wouldn’t just cost the office revenue—it would break the established order of the waterways.
Xu Wuyou ignored Feng Kun’s complaints. He reached out and picked up a folding fan from the desk, casually tapping it against his palm as he countered, “When inspecting grain, they must have a reason. This batch of three hundred thousand piculs is fine polished rice transferred from the south. How did it become substandard spoiled goods in the mouths of the Grain Office?”
“Excuses! Damned excuses!” Feng Kun wiped the sweat dripping from his chin, his eyes red with urgency. “Chief Clerk Qian, from the Grain Office, personally came with his men and stood outside the lock. He jabbed three burlap sacks with iron rods and claimed the grain was too damp and full of weed seeds! This is military supplies stamped with the Ministry of War’s seal! Even with a hundred guts, nobody in our shipping association would dare adulterate it!”
When Xu Wuyou heard the name “Qian Zhongwen,” the fan tapping his palm paused briefly.
He remembered that name.
The Grain Office was subordinate to the Ministry of Revenue, and although Qian Zhongwen was merely a minor official as a chief clerk, he was always bustling about, flaunting Minister Shang Qitai’s banner to bully others at the docks.
“Prepare the horses.” Xu Wuyou rose abruptly, casually slipping the folding fan into the back of his belt. “Call a few sharp lads. We’re going to settle things with Lord Qian at the dam head.”
…
In the time it takes two incense sticks to burn, the party had galloped to the dam head at Tongzhou.
The scorching midsummer sun hung overhead, baking the blue stone slabs so hot they burned the soles of one’s feet on contact.
On the broad river, a dense mass of forty to fifty flat-bottomed grain boats sat low in the water.
Their sails had all been lowered. Boat hands and porters, stripped to the waist, were sweating like ants on a hot pan, squatting in clusters along the gunwales to grumble.
Xu Wuyou and his party dismounted and headed straight for a hastily erected awning on the dam head.
Inside the awning sat a square eight-immortal table. Qian Zhongwen, dressed in a worn-out green official robe, reclined in a armchair with his legs crossed, holding a bowl of iced sour plum soup and idly stirring it with a small silver spoon.
Several warehouse staffers in short tunics stood around a pile of rumpled burlap sacks, brandishing sharp iron grain probes and pretending to inspect them with fake diligence.
Feng Kun, seeing the key figure, immediately put on a sycophantic smile, hunched over, and greeted him, “Lord Qian, please, go easy on us. The sun is so vicious, if the grain stews too long in the hold, it could spoil. The front line is desperately waiting for this lifesaving supply.”
Qian Zhongwen didn’t even lift his eyelids. He leisurely took a sip of sour plum soup, let out a satisfied sigh, and cast a sideways glance at Feng Kun.
“Manager Feng, this isn’t about me being difficult. Court rules require that all grain going into storage must be clean, full-grade rice. Now look at what you’ve brought…”
He pointed at the scattered grain on the ground with his chopsticks, drawing out his words, “It’s so damp you could wring water out of it, and the weed seeds are impossible to pick out entirely. If this goes into the warehouse and rots, it’s my head on the line.”
“By the rules—unload the boats, resift it! Make it spotless, and I’ll stamp the seal immediately.”
Pang Yu, walking behind, heard this and felt a surge of anger rising in his chest.
He had grown up thrashing about on the water’s surface, so how could he fail to recognize such blatant extortion?
In the heat of summer, grain shipped from Jiangnan along the river naturally picked up a bit of moisture. A couple of days under the sun would be enough—there was no need to make a huge show of resifting it all!
“What a load of bullshit!” Pang Yu bellowed, slapping his palm the size of a winnowing fan onto the sword hilt at his waist as he stormed toward the shed. “I’ve been running boats on the river for over a decade, and I’ve never seen rice this good needing resifting! Blocking us here—you’re obviously trying to bleed us dry!”
Just as Pang Yu was about to draw his blade and start trouble, Xu Wuyou reached out a hand from the side and clamped down on his wrist.
“Rules are meant to be followed, not overturned,” Xu Wuyou said, turning his head to quietly scold Pang Yu.
Then he let go, brushed off the nonexistent dust from his sleeves, and strode calmly into the awning. He cupped his hands in salute to Qian Zhongwen. “Lord Qian is fulfilling his duties with such dedication—truly a model for us all. This humble one is Xu Wuyou of the Water Transport Hall, paying my respects.”
Upon hearing the names “Water Transport Hall” and “Xu Wuyou,” Qian Zhongwen’s fingers, which were stirring a bowl of sour plum drink, paused for a moment.
He certainly knew this young master from an earl’s manor, who had been making waves in the capital’s waterways lately, but this was Tongzhou Dock, his territory on the Grain Verification Bureau.
“So it’s Hall Master Xu,” Qian Zhongwen said, setting down the porcelain bowl and offering a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “What’s this? Is the Water Transport Hall stretching its reach so far that it wants to meddle in the Ministry of Revenue’s grain inspection duties now?”
Xu Wuyou didn’t rise to the bait of those thorny words. Instead, he walked straight over to a hemp sack that had been ripped open.
He crouched down, reached in, and grabbed a handful of grain, rubbing the plump kernels between his thumb and fingers.
This rice had barely picked up a bit of morning dew on the river—it was hardly damp, and the weed seeds in it were negligible.
Xu Wuyou clapped his hands together and stood up, walking over to the eight-immortals table with a smile that promised harmony and profit. “Lord Qian must be mistaken. It’s just that this batch of boats is stuck at the lock gate, clogging up all the merchant cargo from Water Transport Hall behind them. May I humbly ask, my lord: for this grain inspection standard of yours, is there a documented regulation from the Ministry of Revenue?
“Or else, for these several dozen boats of grain being sampled, is there a detailed record of which sack exceeds the impurity threshold and which one is overly damp?”
This question was neither soft nor hard, but it struck straight at the heart of the matter.
If he was truly following the rules, the inspection should have evidence—it couldn’t be decided on a whim by just his eyes and his lips meeting.
Qian Zhongwen’s expression shifted slightly.
Where could he produce any specific regulations or records? This was entirely a random scheme to cause trouble and choke them.
But having risen to be a boss at the dock, he was an old hand at this game.
So he immediately stiffened his face, pulling out his official airs to intimidate: “Hall Master Xu, that’s an amateur’s talk. The rules of the granary field are passed down by the elders’ touch and intuition! I say it’s damp, so it’s damp. What’s this? Is Hall Master Xu trying to teach me how to be an official?”
Without waiting for Xu Wuyou’s reply, he turned directly to Feng Kun, who was hopping around in anxiety, and delivered the killing blow: “Manager Feng, don’t waste your time here. I’ve thought of a solution for you—this resifting. Hurry up and hire warehouse hands, rent the largest sifting yard to the south. As for the cost… it’s not much. Two silver cents per bushel. For these forty boatloads, you gather enough workers and work hard—with some extra effort, it can be done.”
Feng Kun nearly fainted when he heard the bill, his legs trembling as he spoke with a sob in his voice: “Two cents per bushel? Forty boatloads—that’s how much silver! And unloading all this grain, having it sifted, then repacking and loading it again—even working day and night, it would take at least ten days to half a month! This is military supplies meant for the front line—rice waiting for the army to cook! Delaying ten-odd days—who’s going to take the blame for sabotaging the military order?”
These words chilled the air inside the shed instantly.
Behind him, Pang Yu was grinding his teeth in fury, while Lao Zhou, his face grim, tugged at Xu Wuyou’s sleeve.
Xu Wuyou stood still, his eyelids slightly drooping, masking the sharp calculation flashing in his pupils.
In his mind, he chewed over Qian Zhongwen’s words again and again. The scattered threads of thought suddenly gathered there in the shed into a venomously deadly scheme.
A mere chief clerk like Qian Zhongwen would never dare to trifle with frontline army rations. The audacity to choke a supply of three hundred thousand bushels of military grain—if Minister of Revenue Shang Qitai hadn’t nodded in approval, not even a hundred borrowed heads would give Qian the nerve.
Xu Wuyou knew too well the shady tricks that Shang Qitai’s faction pulled on the granary grounds. Lao Zhou had told him before: their favorite games were a few tried-and-true methods—either stealing good grain from the stores to resell and stuffing it with sand-laced old rice to make up the numbers, or tampering with the scales, using large measures to receive grain and small measures to distribute it, pocketing the difference.
The most common trick was the one Qian Zhongwen was currently playing—using the excuse of substandard quality to extort "screening fees" and "drying fees" by force.
But this time, these people wanted far more than just money.
A thin layer of cold sweat began to form on Xu Wuyou's back.
Three hundred thousand bushels of military grain delayed by ten days to half a month—the risks in between were enormous.
When the emperor’s wrath came down, investigating the crime of delayed provisions, the first to take the blame would be the Ministry of Revenue, which was responsible for logistics.
Shang Qitai had already cleanly severed all ties with his network.
When the investigation came, who would be thrown out to bear the capital offense of exterminating nine generations?
Inside the Ministry of Revenue, the one riding the highest wave and who had just barely set one foot through the door—wasn’t that his father, Left Vice Minister Xu Youde?
So that was it. Xu Wuyou let out a cold laugh in his heart. What a venomous plan that killed two birds with one stone—lining his own pockets with "screening" as the excuse, while smoothly manufacturing delays to pin the death penalty for sabotaging military operations squarely on the Xu family!
"Lord Qian truly works for the nation and its people, flawless in your calculations," Xu Wuyou said, lifting his head. Instead of showing any anger, his face broke into an even brighter smile, and he even clasped his hands in a deep, lengthy bow.
This unusual reaction left Qian Zhongwen momentarily stunned.
"Since you, my lord, have set the rules, screening is naturally unavoidable. Manager Feng, don't disturb the lord's enjoyment of his sour plum soup here. Let's withdraw first and prepare the silver and manpower."
Xu Wuyou said no more, turned around, grabbed Feng Kun by the arm, and dragged him out of the awning shed.
Pang Yu shot Qian Zhongwen a fierce glare, spat on the ground, and followed with broad strides.
On the way back, the realization in Xu Zhan’s mind grew clearer.
A delay of ten days to half a month—once the frontline at the northern border ran out of provisions, morale would completely collapse.
When the court investigated, the waterborne grain transport was the Ministry of Revenue’s job.
Shang Qitai would have an excuse ready, claiming he knew nothing of subordinates abusing the rules.
At that point, the chief clerk of the grain office might be dragged out to be beheaded.
And the Ministry of Revenue would need someone of high enough rank to take responsibility for the dereliction of duty and give the emperor and the people an explanation.
Who else could the scapegoat be, sacrificed by beheading to calm the storm, but the rapidly rising Left Vice Minister Xu Youde?
...
That day, in the Xu family study.
Xu Youde sneakily closed the door, rubbing his hands together with an excited face, and said: "My daughter said this 'gaokao' is more important than the imperial exams! It’s the carp leaping over the dragon gate! Come, let your dad teach you some experience!"
Xu Zhan, standing by, was stunned speechless: "Dad... are you sure you're the one teaching us two?"
Xu Youde’s face turned a bit embarrassed: "Shut up! Your dad climbed from the lowest ninth rank to today by relying on one thing—calculation! Calculating the examiners’ preferences, calculating the classmates’ backgrounds, calculating how much silver is left in the pouch to pull strings! Studying alone won’t get you through the door—you need silver to pave the way, face to block the knives, and belly to hold the wine!"
Xu Wuyou suddenly understood: "I’m strong. Who dares to stop me—"
Xu Youde shook his head helplessly, then suddenly smacked the back of his head: "Idiot! The exam hall isn’t a brawling ground!" He turned and spoke earnestly, "If you’re really stuck, learn from your sister—find a line of ancient poetry that slaps the examiner’s face red, and even if you burn thirty thousand taels of silver, you’ll own the place!"
Xu Zhan pondered: "And if we fail?"
Xu Youde’s face immediately darkened: "Go back to Jiangning and run a sewing machine! Or send you both to the Wang family as live-in sons-in-law, and let them taunt you every day with 'breaking someone’s livelihood is like killing their parents'!"
Xu Wuyou and Xu Zhan shivered in unison: "Dad! We’ll definitely study hard!"
Only then did Xu Youde, satisfied, pull out two small pouches: "Take these, your activity funds! If money can solve it, don’t use your brain. If all else fails, drop your sister’s name—it still scares a few people in Jiangning."
With that, he walked away with his hands behind his back, looking smug.
Voiceover (Xu Qinghuan): "Dad! Our family truly earns its title as corrupt officials!"
...
Wishing all senior three students a smooth college entrance exam! Surely you’ll exceed expectations!
May every answer be a gem, every sentence hit the mark, and make the graders so impressed that they applaud in wonder!
