“This is going too far!” In the inner hall of the rear courtyard of Shui Cheng Hall, Pang Yu was so furious that he slammed the saber still in its scabbard, which hung at his waist, heavily onto the octagonal table.
“Over forty boats just sitting idle on the water, and feeding all the men and horses costs a fortune every single day! Those officials have hearts black as pitch. They’re clearly trying to drive us into a corner.”
“Hall Master, if you ask me, let’s just gather the brothers from the hall. Tonight, we’ll slip over in the dark and smash that damn sluice gate to pieces.”
“Let’s see who dares to stop my boats!”
Feng Kun, the general manager of the Tongji Canal Guild, was pacing anxiously nearby, wringing his hands.
His plump face was full of bitter distress. He kept waving his hands at Pang Yu, then turned his head and looked pleadingly toward Xu Wuyou, who sat in the seat of honor, asking bitterly for help.
“Oh, my young ancestor, this is right under the Emperor’s nose. We can’t just go waving swords and guns around on a whim. Young Master Xu, you absolutely must come up with a plan. If these boats are held up for another two days, everyone in the guild—from top to bottom—will have to tighten their belts and go hungry.”
Xu Wuyou leaned back in the old-fashioned wooden armchair, unhurriedly picked up a cup of cold tea to moisten his throat.
Then, with a flick of his wrist, he tossed the folding fan from his palm heavily onto the table. His gaze instantly turned cold as he sternly scolded them.
“Smash the sluice gate? Are you pig-brained fools worried that head on your neck sits too securely?”
“A violent rush on the Tongzhou Dam—that’s called gathering a mob to attack an imperial granary. It would play right into Shang Qitai’s hands.”
“He’s just looking for an excuse to slap a charge of obstructing military grain supplies or plotting rebellion on us—a treasonous crime.”
“And here you are, eager to deliver yourselves to the execution block!”
Pang Yu shrank his neck from the scolding, his face flushed crimson, but he dared not talk back.
Seeing that the brute had quieted down, Xu Wuyou stood up and gave orders in a low, firm voice. “Go to the storeroom and withdraw eight thousand taels of silver. Pack them into two big black boxes.”
“Then go to the old alley in the southern part of the city and round up all those disabled veterans—broken arms, missing legs—over a hundred of them. Tell them that Shui Cheng Hall has work to pay them for. Get them all together and bring them, along with the silver boxes, to the Tongzhou Dam.”
Pang Yu was utterly bewildered. His eyes wide with disbelief, he asked, “Eldest Young Master, what kind of move is this? Are you really going to send that shiny eight thousand taels of silver off as a bribe to that corrupt official?”
“A bribe to a corrupt official?”
Xu Wuyou let out a cold laugh. He walked to the doorstep, turned back, and glanced at his few foolish subordinates.
“That money is the handling fee for those old soldiers. Just put the boxes under the awning of his Grain Tax Office, and let’s see if Qian Zhongwen today dares to take whose money!”
Xu Wuyou had long had a plan in mind. According to the laws of the Great Qian Dynasty, officials who extort or solicit bribes were liable for the crime of receiving illicit goods, but those coerced into giving were exempt from punishment.
He intended to take eight thousand taels of commercial silver from Shui Cheng Hall’s own account. As long as, in full public view, under the pretext of hiring disabled veterans for labor, he handed the money over and Qian Zhongwen dared to reach out a hand, then the Grain Tax Office would be caught “openly extorting commoners on the street.”
By the time the Three Judicial Departments conducted a strict investigation, the worst Shui Cheng Hall could be charged with would be “yielding to intimidation, spending money to avert disaster,” as aggrieved victims. They wouldn’t incur the slightest legal trouble.
Not only would he come out unscathed, but he could also neatly drop this heavy black pot right onto the head of Shang Qitai’s Ministry of Revenue.
It was a safe move that promised not to backfire on him.
To anyone else’s ears, these words might sound like just another bit of posturing from the Eldest Young Master.
But to Lao Zhou, who was standing in the corner of the inner hall clicking away at an abacus, it struck like a thunderbolt from a clear sky.
Lao Zhou was a meticulous accountant who usually managed the daily cash flow of Shui Cheng Hall. Naturally, he knew exactly what was stored in the treasury right now.
His calloused hand froze on the beads of the abacus, and his eyes stared fixedly at Xu Wuyou’s retreating figure.
Eight thousand taels of silver, to be packed in big black boxes.
Lao Zhou felt as though his heart was violently pounding in his chest. His legs even felt a bit weak.
He knew better than anyone: the few black boxes stored separately in the treasury contained not Shui Cheng Hall’s commercial profits.
They held eight thousand taels of military pension silver that the Ministry of War had entrusted to Shui Cheng Hall for disbursement last night!
Lao Zhou took a deep breath, forcing down the shock in his eyes, while his mind raced at full speed.
He had been wondering earlier why the Hall Master felt the need to go to the old southern alleys to find those hot-tempered retired old soldiers to act as “manual laborers.” Now, he understood it all.
The Eldest Young Master wasn’t going to deliver “screening fees” at all—he was plainly using borrowed strength to lay down a deadly scheme!
He deliberately took the military pension money meant to buy those old soldiers’ lives and used it as bait.
If that dog official Qian Zhongwen, upon seeing the silver, couldn’t tear his eyes away and took the money, he would be guilty of embezzling soldiers’ compensation.
Such a crime—provoking a mutiny among the troops and shaking military morale—once it blew up, carried the penalty of execution of the entire clan, nine generations deep!
By then, not only would Qian Zhongwen’s head roll, but his backer Shang Qitai would also be drenched in a bloodstain he could never wash off.
“The Eldest Young Master’s tactics—truly far-sighted and inscrutable like the gods themselves,”
Lao Zhou marveled to himself, filled with profound admiration for the usually arrogant eldest scion of the marquis’s manor.
With that thought, Lao Zhou wiped the cold sweat from his forehead.
...
The next day at noon, the blazing sun hung high over the Tongzhou Dam.
Qian Zhongwen was still sitting in the awning he had set up outside the sluice gate. The green official’s robe he wore was already half soaked through with sweat.
In his hand, he held a fan made of Hunan bamboo, flapping it unceasingly, while greed and smug conviction gleamed deep in his eyes.
Just then, a clatter of footsteps reached his ears from a distance.
Qian Zhongwen looked up and saw Xu Wuyou riding a tall horse at the front of the procession.
Behind him came over a dozen pushcarts, on which several heavy black boxes were tightly strapped.
And trailing the entire line were more than a hundred dark-faced, fiercely auraed old men.
Some of these men were missing an arm, some limped, and others had even lost an eye. Though their clothes were tattered,
they walked with the dense murderousness of men who had rolled through piles of corpses. Their eyes swept like blades over the people around the dam, scaring the usually arrogant warehouse underlings into stepping back.
Xu Wuyou reached the awning. He dismounted his horse, tossed the reins casually to a guard beside him, and walked up to Qian Zhongwen’s desk with a faint, careless smile.
He pointed at the few black boxes and said with a mocking grin that didn’t reach his eyes, “Lord Qian, sir, yesterday’s price you quoted... I’ve done as promised. These eight thousand taels of screening fees are all here, not a single tael short.”
“Moreover, just to ensure that your lordship’s grain inspection work goes smoothly, I’ve personally spent a good amount of money to hire the highest-quality, best-tempered ‘manual laborers’ in all of Beijing to do the screening.”
Xu Wuyou stood there, sizing up Qian Zhongwen at his leisure, calculating in his mind how this play would unfold.
His original thought was that once Qian Zhongwen got a clear look at this motley crew of blood-soaked retired soldiers, even his ten-stage courage would fail him, and he wouldn’t dare to put these fearsome characters—men unafraid of death—to work on the menial task of sifting rice husks.
These veterans were already kegs of black powder. In ordinary times, even the street thugs in Beijing dared not provoke them.
Today, if Qian Zhongwen dared to make the slightest trouble, this group of men could immediately turn the Tongzhou dock upside down and leave him unable to handle the consequences.
However, Qian Zhongwen’s gleaming eyes had already locked onto those heavy black boxes, not even sparing a glance at the fierce-looking, disabled veterans lined up behind Xu Wuyou.
His breathing grew rapid, greed completely clouding his judgment. Serving at this dock for so long, though he had engaged in extortion plenty of times, he had never encountered someone who could produce eight thousand taels of silver in cash all at once. This Young Master Xu was truly wealthy and generous, easily squeezed for such a huge sum.
“Hahaha, Hall Master Xu is truly a sensible and wise man who knows how to read the room!”
Qian Zhongwen laughed loudly, overcome with smugness, and strode over to the boxes.
He reached out and patted the sturdy wooden lid, his face covered with undisguised avarice.
“Easy, easy! Since Hall Master Xu is so reasonable and understands the hardships of the granary staff, I’ll accept this screening fee on behalf of the dock’s warehouse workers.”
Hearing this, Xu Wuyou raised an eyebrow slightly, thinking to himself that this corrupt official was truly blinded by greed.
Even daring to accept such a dangerous sum of money, he decided to go along with it and stepped forward.
“Since Lord Qian has accepted this service fee, then the matter is simple. However, I, back at the Waterway Hall, need to account for this. Eight thousand taels of silver is no small amount, so the ledger must be clear.”
Xu Wuyou suppressed the smile at the corner of his lips, his eyes burning as he stared at Qian Zhongwen, his tone hardening.
“Please, Lord Qian, condescend to write a receipt by hand and stamp it with the seal of your Granary Office. With this proof, I can go back and reassure my brothers.”
When he heard about demanding a receipt and stamp, Lao Zhou, standing to the side, froze, his palms slick with cold sweat.
Inside, he was screaming wildly:
This corrupt official absolutely must not hesitate. As soon as that seal comes down, it’s an ironclad crime of treason, one that even the all-powerful Shang Qitai couldn’t save him from.
At that moment, Qian Zhongwen’s mind was consumed by greed. The eight thousand taels of silver were right before his eyes.
He was entirely absorbed in plotting how to embezzle this sum afterward, never stopping to examine the deadly trap hidden behind this receipt.
He simply thought that Xu Wuyou, being young and thin-skinned, needed something to show the old-timers at the Waterway Guild as a formality.
“Fine, I’ll write it for you, just to save face for Hall Master Xu at the Waterway Hall.”
Qian Zhongwen strode back to his desk, grabbed a brush, dipped it in thick ink, and wrote swiftly on official paper.
He directly penned a receipt for collecting eight thousand taels of silver from the Waterway Hall as a grain screening fee. Then, without hesitation, he picked up the vermilion seal representing the authority of the Granary Office Chief and pressed it firmly at the bottom of the document.
The moment the red seal hit the paper, Lao Zhou felt an overwhelming ease wash over him—a satisfying feeling of witnessing a death trap sealed and revenge achieved.
“Men, carry these boxes into the rear warehouse and guard them carefully!”
Qian Zhongwen blew on the ink of the receipt, handed it to Xu Wuyou, and then eagerly called for his trusted subordinates to move the silver.
His urgent behavior was like that of a starving old dog protecting its food.
Xu Wuyou extended his fingers, taking the flimsy receipt, but inwardly he was stunned.
He lowered his head to look at the bright red official seal on the paper, then lifted his gaze to watch Qian Zhongwen directing his men to carry the boxes.
He then glanced back at the veterans behind him, their fists already clenched, ready to smash the place at any moment. A sense of absurd irony flooded his mind.
Originally, he had only intended to bring this group of hot-tempered veterans to cause a scene, using these ruffians and disabled soldiers to teach Qian Zhongwen a lesson and stir things up at the dock.
But he had never imagined that this corrupt official’s audacity would reach such extremes—not only daring to accept the warhorses’ wages but also cheerfully writing out a receipt with an official seal.
Clutching this receipt, which could send Qian Zhongwen’s entire clan to the execution block, Xu Wuyou stood under the blazing sun, suddenly having no idea how to play the next move.
