The agonizing winter was finally about to pass.

For the elderly, winter was a hurdle. If they could get through it, they could experience spring, summer, and autumn once again and enjoy the scenery of the four seasons. If they could not, they would remain stuck in this winter forever.

For the people in the Three Jin region, this winter was particularly challenging. Not just the elderly, but people of all ages and genders had experienced the havoc of war. The unclaimed skeletons by the roadside were now the most common sight.

For the people of Yanjing too, this winter had been agonizing. But after all, they had made it through.

The Yan Army’s eventual victory, after an initial defeat, refocused everyone’s attention onto their own lives.

In their eyes, life was nothing more than firewood, rice, oil, salt, soy sauce, and vinegar, with perhaps some tea added for flavor.

The politics of the court did not truly affect them; after all, the higher one went, the more intense the winds of the court became.

The court of the Yan State did face winds—not strong ones, but enough to bring down a minister.

First, an imperial censor, hearing rumors, submitted a memorial impeaching the current Minister of the Ministry of Revenue, Hsu Guanghuai, alleging misconduct by his family back in his hometown.

Faced with impeachment, Hsu Guanghuai didn’t take it seriously in the beginning. He just submitted a Memorandum of Self-Defense to the Yan Emperor.

Actually, according to past customs, when an imperial censor impeached someone, the standard procedure was to feign illness and return home, await the Yan Emperor’s decree for an inquiry, and then submit a memorandum of self-defense. This was the rule, a tacit agreement universally acknowledged. In essence, it was just a procedure.

However, for one, the treaty alliance with the Chu State was in its final stages of confirmation, and Hsu Guanghuai did not want any mishaps, so he thought he should continue to oversee it. For another, compared to their counterparts in the Qian State, the imperial censors of the Yan State were clearly far less formidable, not in the same league at all.

After all, the rules are fixed, but people are flexible, are they not?

However, Hsu Guanghuai still found time to send a letter to his family back in Xun County, Sanshi Prefecture, reminding them to be mindful of their conduct and maintain a good reputation among their neighbors.

This incident, by all rights, should have ended there, like nothing more than a mosquito bite.

But shortly thereafter, the County Magistrate of Xun County in Sanshi Prefecture, Zhao Chengming, a newly advanced Jinshi scholar appointed to an external post last year, submitted a memorandum. He impeached Hsu Guanghuai’s family for annexing fertile land and tyrannizing the local populace in Xun County. He stated that the Hsu family, relying on Hsu Guanghuai’s status, lorded it over everyone, and it was commonly said among the local people: “They treat Xun County as if it were Hsu County!”

This was an impeachment from a local magistrate, the ‘parent official’ of the people, and it immediately changed the nature of the matter—especially since it came from the magistrate of his own hometown.

Especially the line in the memorandum, “They treat Xun County as if it were Hsu County!” possessed a terrifyingly destructive power.

Hsu Guanghuai could no longer remain calm. He immediately claimed illness and returned home, ceased attending the morning court sessions, and proactively submitted a memorandum pleading guilty, awaiting the Yan Emperor to send someone for his defense.

But it was not over. In only a few days, the Spy Bureau of Sanshi Prefecture arrested a group of aristocratic remnants. Through interrogation, it was learned that this group had recently been sheltered and harbored in Xun County. The person who harbored them was none other than Hsu Guanghuai’s eldest son.

While Hsu Guanghuai was an official in Yanjing, his second and third sons were with him, while his eldest son stayed behind in his hometown to manage the family’s clan affairs and properties.

At the Spy Bureau, the evidence was irrefutable.

Trampling the aristocratic families—this was the Yan Emperor’s initiative, one could even say, a national policy. This matter was not about right or wrong. Even if the aristocratic families were guilty, it wasn’t as if every single one of them bullied their neighbors or harbored ill intentions. However, political matters rarely distinguish between right and wrong.

The aristocratic remnants were either exiled to serve in the army or confiscated as state slaves.

Perhaps, only after the Crown Prince ascended the throne, or even not until the Grandson Prince succeeded, might there be a possibility of pardoning some aristocratic remnants. But at this moment, even saying a few good words or expressing some sympathy for them was absolutely politically incorrect!

For the Hsu family to dare shelter and harbor aristocratic remnants—what exactly was their intention?

After hearing this news, Hsu Guanghuai was stunned. At this point, if he still didn’t realize he was being targeted, then he truly had lived his years in vain, a waste of his entire career in officialdom.

But what he truly couldn’t comprehend was who, at this juncture, was making a move against him. And once they struck, this series of attacks—from spreading rumors to laying the groundwork, and then to this final blow—left him utterly defenseless.

He knew his eldest son’s character. He was good in every way, but he loved to affect cultural refinement and enjoyed literary pursuits. In earlier years, he often socialized and attended poetry gatherings with the scions of those great aristocratic families.

Hsu Guanghuai didn’t simply assume this was a malicious frame-up by the Spy Bureau, because his eldest son truly might have been unable to refuse the pleas of his former old friends and sheltered one or two of them.

This rebellious son, this time he has truly doomed his own father!

However, a few days later, an Assistant Director from the Qingli Si of Sanshi Prefecture, one of the seven major supervisory departments under the Ministry of Revenue, submitted a memorandum. It contained the Ministry’s ledgers for the funds and provisions issued during the formation and dispatch of the Eldest Prince’s Eastern Expeditionary Army. According to the ledgers, all other local military commanders were allocated only half their due provisions, while the Deng family of Sanshi received a full eighty percent of their salaries and silver.

This Assistant Director normally wouldn’t have been qualified to submit a memorandum directly. However, after the imperial examinations last year, the Yan Emperor had decreed that any official who had passed the Jinshi examination, whether serving in the capital or externally, could submit memorials directly to the imperial desk. And it just so happened that this Assistant Director from the Ministry of Revenue was indeed a Jinshi graduate from last year’s examinations.

This could be said to be the final straw that broke Hsu Guanghuai.

Actually, according to the common practice in the Great Yan, when troops were mobilized, it was generally difficult to provide full supplies all at once. Firstly, local military commanders needed to raise some resources themselves. Secondly, the plan was also to rely on the Cheng State for provisions once the Eastern Expeditionary Army entered their territory. Thus, this was an unwritten rule that everyone was well aware of. The Great Yan had been constantly at war in recent years; how could the national treasury have enough surplus to provide full support?

But the crux of the problem was: why, when the Ministry of Revenue supplied funds and provisions, did others receive only fifty percent, while this contingent of the Deng family of Sanshi received a full eighty percent?

This could be explained, but the explanation could not be spoken aloud.

Because the Deng family of Sanshi was the Fourth Prince’s matriarchal clan. Furthermore, the Deng family held extremely high influence among the local military commanders. The prestige of the old head of the family, General Deng, still carried weight. When he reached out to ask, it was quite normal for Hsu Guanghuai, as the Minister of the Ministry of Revenue, to approve a larger amount.

But precisely because of this, the explanation could not actually be used as a defense. How could he articulate it? Was he trying to implicate a prince?

Moreover, the Left Army, led by the head of the Deng family, had suffered the most catastrophic losses in the great defeat at the Wang River. Even though he had already died in battle at Wang River, the responsibility of a defeated general could not be dismissed.

So, for it to be brought up now that he, as the Minister of the Ministry of Revenue, had “secretly funneled funds to” the most powerful local military commander—what exactly was he trying to do?!

One accusation after another, one piece of evidence after another, step by step—Hsu Guanghuai was finished.

He could no longer turn the situation around, unless the Yan Emperor was willing to forcefully overturn the verdict for him.

The Yan Emperor did have this capability. In the past hundred years, the current Emperor’s authority was undoubtedly supreme. But if Hsu Guanghuai, the accused, were to be forcefully exonerated, then the officials who had impeached him would have to be found guilty of making false accusations.

The fact was, the Yan Emperor would never make such a choice. Anyone could see that these individuals who had successively emerged to bring down Hsu Guanghuai were mostly officials who were newly advanced Jinshi scholars from the previous year. Having just ‘trampled the aristocratic families’ a few years prior, how could the Yan Emperor possibly resort to implicating these new officials at this time? The imperial examination system had to be implemented and upheld. This was the Yan Emperor’s grand strategy; otherwise, his act of ‘trampling the aristocratic families’ would become a futile endeavor.

Therefore, the Yan Emperor issued an edict: Hsu Guanghuai was to be dismissed from office and investigated. The relevant authorities were tasked with deliberating and determining his crimes.

This had already set the tone: the joint hearing would be about the extent of Hsu Guanghuai’s crimes, not whether he was guilty at all.

The common people in Yanjing might not have felt much, but the officials in the imperial court were momentarily stunned. The wind at the beginning had seemed so gentle, like a light tickle. Who would have known it would suddenly escalate into a raging tempest, directly toppling the Minister of the Ministry of Revenue—no, shattering him!

「…」

“It’s not that I’m impatient,” Ji Chengjue said, personally pouring a cup of wine for Man Yin, who sat opposite him. “But if I’m not, there won’t even be cold tofu left.”

Man Yin immediately rose, respectfully holding the rim of his cup, waiting.

“These officials recruited from the Jinshi scholars,” Ji Chengjue continued, “although they were all carefully selected for their excellent character in previous years, the officialdom is a great dye vat. Once they are thoroughly dyed, it will be difficult for me, their benefactor, to command them.”

Man Yin immediately nodded and said, “Your Highness is wise. This is also a good opportunity to tie them securely to Your Highness’s ship.”

“What, is my ship so dilapidated that they need to be tied to it?”

Man Yin chuckled. “Hehe. My apologies, a slip of the tongue, Your Highness.”

Ji Chengjue took a sip of wine.

Man Yin hastily took a sip as well, drained his cup in one gulp, then immediately rose to refill the Sixth Prince’s cup, saying at the same time, “With Hsu Guanghuai down, the Crown Prince has effectively lost an arm.”

“I dealt with Hsu Guanghuai not because he was currying favor with the Crown Prince,” Ji Chengjue said. “But because since Father Emperor assigned me to observe the Ministry of Revenue and manage the finances and provisions for Great Yan, it’s unsuitable to have an old fellow sitting above me, dictating terms. It’s exceedingly annoying.”

“However, I worry, this time, whether it will…”

“Don’t worry about anything. There’s no retreat. From the day I entered the capital in my brother-in-law’s carriage, I never planned to leave in disgrace. By the way, I summoned you back today specifically to give you an instruction in person. Over the years, partly at my instigation and partly on your own initiative, many ‘nails’ have been planted around my Second Brother. This time, withdraw them all. Try to clean up your connections as thoroughly as possible. You can also retire and enjoy your old age.”

“Your Highness, I wish to continue to serve Your Highness…”

“This is to let you lie low for a while. In the future, when I want to use you again, as long as you, old fellow, still have some breath left in you, you’ll still be of use.”

Man Yin was taken aback and immediately said, “Your Highness, is something going to happen?”

Ji Chengjue looked at Man Yin. Man Yin waited for an answer. But Ji Chengjue remained silent. Man Yin was instantly terrified, left his seat, and prostrated himself.

“This subordinate deserves death.”

Ji Chengjue yawned and said, “I am weary.”

“This subordinate takes his leave.”

After Man Yin left, Ji Chengjue didn’t rush from the table to sleep. Instead, he reached out, grabbed a handful of peanuts, and began tossing them into his mouth one by one.

His gaze grew pensive, tinged with a hint of sorrow, then turned numb, and finally settled into indifference. Hmph. Heaven wants to rain, mother wants to remarry—let them be.

Then, Ji Chengjue adopted a theatrical, high-pitched voice and hummed in a sing-song tone, “On the third of March, the maiden’s in her flowered sedan, about to wed, hey! Her fiery red veil, oh, so brilliantly red, ley…”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep