Zong Wenxiu nodded in agreement. "When we suddenly learned that Father might still be alive, Mother and I were overjoyed. But now that Grandfather, at his age, has to go to the frontlines, it’s even more worrying."
The little troublemaker quickly reassured him, "Don’t worry, don’t worry! I’ve already told Uncle to take good care of Grandfather and bring everyone back safely."
Zong Wenxiu smiled faintly. "I’m fine, Jin Cheng. Don’t worry about me. Tomorrow, I’ll start my post at the Hanlin Academy. I’ll work hard to reach the second-rank official position and not hold anyone back."
Jin Cheng nodded and shared his plans. "Brother, after three years in the Hanlin Academy, only the best are retained. But I want you to go to the Ministry of Revenue afterward."
"The Ministry of Revenue?" Zong Wenxiu was puzzled.
That was the department responsible for household registrations, land, conscription, taxes, prices, and commerce—holding the financial power of Great Chu.
Jin Cheng affirmed, "Once you’ve served your three years in the Hanlin Academy, I’ll keep you there a little longer before transferring you to the Ministry of Revenue. It’s a crucial department, and your temperament suits it well. I trust you to oversee things properly for me."
Zong Wenxiu recalled the poverty and wealth, the downfall and glory he had experienced. He had witnessed too many life-and-death separations in the slums, all tied to money.
If one day, he could change such stark disparities, how fortunate would that be?
Zong Wenxiu nodded firmly. "Alright, I’ll go. I’ll do my best."
Having settled that, the little troublemaker switched to teasing. "And do well in the Hanlin Academy too! Don’t let that Qin Ye outshine you."
Zong Wenxiu laughed. "Yes, yes, defeat Qin Ye, and promotion to second-rank is guaranteed!"
"Hahahaha…"
In the days that followed, the scholars gradually took up their official posts.
The little troublemaker also began his journey as emperor.
Prime Minister Shen and Zong Zhao spared no effort in mentoring him. Every day, memorials—whether significant or trivial—were sent for his review. Zong Zhao even categorized them into two types: practical ones he must read and useless ones he could skip.
At first, Chu Jincheng was curious—how could a memorial be useless? But when he opened one, he found it filled with local officials either sending greetings or rambling about trivial matters.
One day, fed up, he slammed a memorial onto the table and groaned, "Do they have nothing better to do? Even planting mushrooms and asking if I want to eat them—as if we can’t buy them in the capital!"
Eunuch Huang peeked at the memorial. Sure enough, it was asking whether the emperor would like to eat mushrooms. He was about to remark on the absurdity when he noticed it was from the Prince of Southern Pacification.
Ah… well, that explained it.
Since the emperor’s ascension, the Prince of Southern Pacification, unable to visit the capital from his fiefdom, had taken to sending Yunnan specialties. Previously, these were delivered directly to the Duke of State Protection’s residence. But with the duke away at war, the prince now sent them to the palace—along with thoughtful memorials.
But Yunnan had too many specialties…
Memorial after memorial arrived, leaving the little troublemaker numb. Yet, since the sender was his uncle, the Prince of Southern Pacification, he couldn’t exactly snap, "Stop the nonsense! Why write memorials for such trivial matters?"
Eunuch Huang coughed lightly and suggested, "Your Majesty, the Prince of Southern Pacification means well. If you’re tired of reading these, you can skip them. Prime Minister Shen can handle the replies for you."
The little troublemaker slumped for a moment before reluctantly giving in. "Fine, let Prime Minister Shen deal with them. Poor man."
Eunuch Huang thought to himself: Once you grow up, the poor man won’t be Prime Minister Shen anymore.
But that was too harsh, so he kept it to himself.
As the Duke of State Protection led the army to the border, war quickly broke out. After over a year of peace, Great Chu and You Country were at war again.
In September, the Old Marquis sent the first letter. The entire family eagerly awaited good news, only to read:
"Crown Prince Jin'an of You Country is personally leading the campaign. He’s a formidable warrior, matching the Duke of State Protection blow for blow. But I haven’t seen Zong Yan at all—I suspect he hasn’t joined the battlefield."
The Old Marchioness asked anxiously, "Could it be… Yan’er still remembers he’s from Great Chu and refuses to help Crown Prince Jin'an fight against us?"
Xu Wan, now in her second trimester with most discomforts gone, analyzed, "Earlier reports only mentioned Zong Yan as Crown Prince Jin'an’s strategist, helping him eliminate rival factions in You Country’s court. There was no mention of his weapons being used in their military. So perhaps—he’s constrained by the crown prince but refuses to raise arms against us?"
Zong Zhao frowned in concern. "If that’s the case, Zong Yan might be in danger. Crown Prince Jin'an will stop at nothing to force his cooperation."
Yan Suxue suggested, "Wasn’t Zong Yan spotted near the border before? In a small town or military camp? Can we send someone to investigate his whereabouts again?"
The Old Marchioness quickly agreed. "Yes, yes! Have your father look into Yan’er’s whereabouts first. I fear something might happen to him again."
Zong Zhao replied, "I’ll dispatch spies—not just to the border. There’s been unusual movement in You Country’s capital lately. Zong Yan might be there, helping Crown Prince Jin'an eliminate obstacles."
"Good, good. Send the letter quickly."
Messenger pigeons flew back and forth, carrying the family’s worries and longing.
By October, there was news: Zong Yan was in You Country’s capital, where he had eliminated another rebellious prince for Crown Prince Jin'an.
In November, Crown Prince Jin'an summoned Zong Yan to the frontlines, but he only appeared briefly in the military camp before retreating to a nearby town.
In December, the Old Marquis sneaked into the town twice to bring Zong Yan back—but was refused both times.
Zong Yan showed no expression when meeting the Old Marquis. It was impossible to tell whether he had lost his memories or not. His demeanor had changed drastically—his eyes cold and distant—leaving the Old Marquis unsure if this was even his son.
Finally, Luo Jingfeng settled the matter. "What’s the hesitation? If he weren’t your son, would you have made it back alive after sneaking over twice? You think he only makes weapons but can’t use them?"
The Old Marquis had an epiphany and immediately went for a third attempt.
The result was the same—another rejection.
After the New Year, in the first month, good news arrived from the border: the Old Marquis had brought Zong Yan back and was escorting him to the capital.
As for why it was an "escort"...
Luo Jingfeng had grown tired of the Old Marquis’ constant disappearances. Under Zong Zhao and the little troublemaker’s orders, the old man couldn’t be allowed to come to harm. But balancing war efforts with babysitting him had worn Luo Jingfeng’s patience thin.
So, after yet another unauthorized excursion, Luo Jingfeng ordered his poison-specialist subordinate to lace the Old Marquis’ belongings with a powdered sedative—knocking out both father and son before hauling them back.
...
After his capture, Zong Yan kept resisting, trying to escape. The Old Marquis wept and pleaded, but to little effect.
Luo Jingfeng locked him in a prison cart for transport. When the Old Marquis protested the humiliation, Luo Jingfeng simply draped the cart with an ornate carriage cover.
Now, who could tell what was happening inside?
"Happy now, old man?" Luo Jingfeng scowled. "Now that you’ve caught the guy, hurry up and leave. Don’t waste my time—I’ve got a kingdom to win for my nephew."
The Old Marquis: "..."
He had a million curses on the tip of his tongue.
