Zhou Wenhai’s residence.

Su Shan and Chen Xiulian were streaming tears, nearly collapsing to the ground.

Su Yang and Su Feng, the two brothers, had red-rimmed eyes, fists clenched so tight their knuckles whitened, saying nothing.

From acquaintances at the county yamen, they had heard a piece of news that could make the sky fall.

“Teacher Zhou… my Ming’er… my Ming’er he…” Chen Xiulian sobbed, unable to finish the sentence.

Zhou Wenhai led them into the inner hall. Seeing the family’s utter devastation, his chest felt like it was being crushed by a great stone.

He went back to his study alone, pacing, his hand stroking his beard trembling slightly.

He knew that official documents were nine times out of ten truthful.

That student he prized most, that quick-witted, unusually mature boy, might really have…

But looking at the two elderly parents who were on the verge of collapse, could he speak the word “dead” aloud?

He could not.

That single word would utterly break this family.

After a long time, he stopped pacing, a glint of resolve flashing in his eyes.

He left the study, returned to the Su family, and spoke in a steady, determined voice.

“Both of you, do not grieve yet. Hear an old man out.”

All eyes turned to him.

“The journey to the northern borders is long, bandits are rampant, and official dispatches often exaggerate to shirk responsibility.”

Zhou Wenhai looked the couple in the eyes and spoke distinctly, word by word.

“In my view, this ‘mountain bandit massacre’ was most likely a golden cicada sheds its shell trick used by Ming’er!”

“Golden cicada sheds its shell?” Su Yang looked up in confusion.

“Exactly!” Zhou Wenhai nodded heavily. “How clever is Ming’er? He already expected that the Yongchang Marquis Manor would not give up easily and would act on the road. Rather than wait to be killed, he would seize this chance to fabricate a ‘death’ and thus escape imperial surveillance, then find a new life elsewhere!”

Those words were like a beam of light cutting into the Su family’s despair.

Su Shan and his wife stopped crying, staring at Zhou Wenhai in a daze as a faint thread of hope rekindled in their eyes.

“Teacher… you mean… Ming’er is still alive?”

“More than likely!” Zhou Wenhai’s tone brooked no doubt. “Only, since he is ‘dead,’ he won’t be able to contact you for a while, otherwise the ruse would be ruined. What you must do is not mourn, but guard this secret for him and live steadily until he returns!”

“Wait until he has the means to settle his affairs and he will come back to find you!”

This compassionate lie acted like a tonic, injecting strength into the couple’s hearts.

They would rather believe this hopeful explanation than accept the cold, brutal truth.

“Yes… yes! My Ming’er is so clever, he must be alive…” Chen Xiulian wiped her tears and murmured.

Zhou Wenhai then made arrangements.

He had already bought a small courtyard in a quiet alley in Qingshi Town, near the County School.

“Do not return to Su Family Village for now. Stay in Qingshi Town and tell outsiders you are distant relatives of mine.”

“Su Feng, Su Yang, you are hardworking. I have found employment for you at a grain shop in town that I am familiar with, enough to support the family.”

He arranged everything meticulously, sheltering this battered family under a temporary eave.

…

Su Family Village.

In Village Chief Zhao Dequan’s yard, the old locust tree had lost all its leaves.

He stood in the courtyard a long while, holding a slip of paper that had come from the county seat.

The contents matched what Zhou Wenhai had heard.

Su Ming, dead.

No emotion showed on Zhao Dequan’s face.

At first, he felt a wave of relief.

That boy who had always weighed on his mind and made him feel out of control had finally disappeared.

Next came an inexplicable hollow and panic.

Without Su Ming, would the core improvement technique for the paper mill die with him?

In the end, both feelings turned into a profound sense of powerlessness.

He opened the paper mill’s ledger and stared at the entries listing payments to the County School’s public account, feeling agitated.

Zhou Wenhai’s shadow lay over him like a mountain, making it hard to breathe.

Though the Su family had moved to Qingshi Town under Zhou Wenhai’s protection, he couldn’t even arrange for someone to keep watch.

On paper, the paper mill still belonged to the village, but in reality, most of the profits and lifeblood were firmly in the County School’s hands.

He, Zhao Dequan, had been reduced from a local emperor to a senior steward.

“Dead is fine.”

He murmured to himself.

“Dead, and no one will split my attention anymore.”

He turned and closed the door to his house.

……

Meanwhile, a thousand miles away in the capital.

Inside the official residence assigned to the junior clerk by the Ministry of Revenue.

Xu Qing sat at a writing desk, his expression frighteningly calm, the lone lamp elongating his silhouette on the wall.

He spread a sheet of paper once more, lifted his brush, dipped it in ink.

The brush tip, soaked with ink, hovered over the paper for a long time before falling.

His eyes were no longer the hollow vacancy seen during the day; they had become two bottomless pools of cold water, beneath the surface raged dark currents and bone-deep frost.

At last, the brush touched down and he wrote a name.

Then he began to categorize and list items beneath that name.

On the page, name after name, official post after post, related incidents—he wrote them in tiny, meticulous characters.

“Grain transport:” control over the grain guild, annual embezzlement shares, implicated ships and docks, the network of interests with riverside prefectural officials (fragments gleaned from memory and hearsay, marked cautiously “to be verified”).

“Military supplies:” the leather armor scandal’s whole story, the craftsmen and middlemen involved (bold hypotheses based on scattered information Xu Qing accessed at the Ministry), abnormal flows in Northern Border Army fund allocations (this was the area he could currently reach and most likely find a breakthrough).

“Courtiers and allies:” a list of known officials who maintained close ties with the Yongchang Marquis Manor (pieced together from daily observation and colleagues’ gossip), possible scandals to exploit (corruption, perversion of justice, nepotism).

He knew much of this information might be ill-founded or downright wrong.

He did not care. This was the starting point of his path of vengeance; he would spend years, decades if needed, verifying, filling, and perfecting the list.

He would hollow out the seemingly impregnable mountain that was the Yongchang Marquis Manor inch by inch until it collapsed with a roar.

“Brother Su,” he murmured to the void, his voice hoarse yet resolute, “watch closely. From today, I, Xu Qing, will no longer be the scholar who only knows the Sage’s Books.”

“I understand the ‘hide one’s talent’ you wanted. I understand the ‘blend with the common’ you suggested.”

“I will be better at hiding than they are, more adept at mastering the rules than they are, and… crueler than they are.”

He stared at the page, engraving its contents into his mind.

Then, by the lamp on the desk, he reduced the list to ash.

Afterward, he spread another official document from the Ministry of Revenue, picked up another brush, and all his emotions vanished, replaced by a nearly numb concentration.

He began handling the piled-up official duties; the abacus clicked again, precise and efficient, devoid of any personal feeling.

He no longer wasted words on Li Wei and his ilk; for others’ probes and mockery, he either remained silent or returned a flawless, formulaic smile.

He became a silent, diligent shadow in the Ministry’s office, increasingly deemed “dependable” by superiors and “practical” by colleagues.

Beneath that façade, however, he was like the most patient hunter, quietly weaving his net.

Using the opportunity to audit accounts, he memorized several merchant names that had indirect dealings with the Yongchang Marquis Manor.

When handing documents to other departments, he “happened” to meet discontented low-level officials and, in casual conversation, collected fragments of court information.

He even began studying the penal and household law sections of the Great Xing Code, not for exams, but to seek loopholes and legal weapons.

Several days later, an unsigned letter with deliberately altered handwriting, accompanied by fifty taels of silver, was delivered to Zhou Wenhai’s desk in Qingshi Town. The letter read only that it was sent at the request of Su Ming’s old classmate to support the family, hoping the teacher would oblige.

Zhou Wenhai looked at the unfamiliar script and the heavy silver, understanding immediately. After a long sigh, he accepted it in silence.

He realized that this was Xu Qing fulfilling a promise to a deceased friend in his own way.

This hidden thread thus connected, silently and without fanfare.

……

One month later, the Ministry of Personnel’s evaluation.

Xu Qing’s appraisal added the phrase “diligent and pragmatic, capable of heavy responsibility.”

His immediate superior, Director Li, who had once advised him to keep a low profile, patted his shoulder and said earnestly, “Xu Qing, you’ve figured it out, good. In this capital, staying alive is more important than anything.”

Xu Qing bowed with humble bearing: “Thank you for your instruction, sir. I understand.”

When he straightened, his gaze crossed the high threshold of the Ministry of Revenue’s office and fell upon the gray sky outside, stained by power and desire.

This capital could not contain a living Su Ming.

But it could contain a living… Xu Qing.

A Xu Qing who would bury hatred deep in his heart and wait for the right moment to act… Xu Qing.

End of the Capital arc.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep