Chapter 165: Reunion (1)

Not long after Le Wuya saw Jiang He off, 170,000 taels of military wages, along with an imperial decree ordering troop reductions, arrived from the capital.

Money gives a man courage.

Le Wuya, who had been keeping a low profile in Tongzhou Prefecture, finally made his move once the shiny silver hit the treasury.

He summoned the ten chiliarchs of the Sanjiang and Puluo garrisons under Tongzhou's jurisdiction to the prefectural office, saying he had matters to discuss.

The chiliarchs answered the summons, putting on calm faces while unease churned inside them.

Earlier, the prefect had suddenly made his move when soldiers stormed the office demanding back pay, confiscating the military registers from all ten garrisons, claiming he wanted to "review them closely."

Caught off guard, the chiliarchs had conferred among themselves and, clinging to the twin hopes of "a quick patch-up" and "safety in numbers," hastily doctored and padded the registers before turning them in.

They knew the documents were riddled with flaws, but the prefect had pushed for speed, leaving them no choice.

They'd also scraped together a sum of money, disguised as tax payments, and sent it to the prefectural office, hoping the magistrate would show mercy for the sake of the silver and refrain from pursuing the matter.

After handing over the registers, they'd heard nothing back.

They stayed on edge, bracing for the prefect to unleash a thunderous reckoning.

Unexpectedly, the first to be struck down wasn't them—it was Wei Yixian.

Wei Yixian's fall was so quiet that, to the chiliarchs, it was like a thunderclap from a clear sky.

A man so refined, so elegant and composed, had been tossed straight into a prison cart and shipped off to the capital to await sentencing.

This was utterly terrifying—far harder to swallow than a blistering reprimand or a storm of military discipline.

The chiliarchs showed up with heavy hearts, each lost in his own thoughts.

When they got to the meeting hall and saw an incense altar set up in the courtyard, the chiliarchs, led by Zhang Ashan, grew even more terrified, none daring to take a step forward.

These men, who on any normal day were fierce and overbearing, now huddled together like scared quails under the eaves, exchanging nervous glances and shrinking back without a word.

Beside the incense altar stood a soldier, straight as a spear, though his posture was slightly off—but armed with sword and armor, eyes fixed straight ahead with solemn dignity, no one dared go near him.

The chiliarchs guessed: this must be the new military registrar—the lame Qin Xingyue the prefect had brought from Nanting County.

They'd heard from Registrar Wei that this man was handsome and imposing, but unfortunately crippled, and had once been a drinker.

Though they'd never seen him, they couldn't help but look down on him.

Now, seeing Qin Xingyue's bearing with their own eyes, their contempt vanished in an instant.

What a presence! What authority!

This man had to have been on the battlefield, had to have killed enemies—nothing less could forge such a fierce, martial aura.

As the chiliarchs fell silent, none daring to speak, Le Wuya made his entrance.

Le Wuya wore a bright crimson round-collar robe, with cloud geese on it soaring on the east wind.

He was dressed simply and neatly, with no gold or jade, which only made his elegant bearing stand out more; the single strand of red sandalwood beads in his thick, dark hair made him all the more striking and spirited.

He asked Qin Xingyue pleasantly, "Everyone here?"

Qin Xingyue answered crisply, "Reporting, sir: all present!"

Through the swirling incense smoke, the chiliarchs couldn't make out Le Wuya's features clearly, but they were already overawed by his presence, lowering their heads one by one.

Le Wuya nodded. "Then read the decree."

...The decree?

At these words, cold sweat broke out on the chiliarchs' already-damp backs. They didn't dare delay a moment, dropping to their knees with a series of thuds, prostrating themselves on the ground, faces uniformly pale. Even as their knees hit the stone slabs painfully, they didn't dare make a sound.

But as Le Wuya read the imperial edict aloud, the chiliarchs gradually went from shock to delight.

By the end, they were practically beside themselves with joy.

The problem of bloated troops and redundant officers had long been a thorn in their sides.

On one hand, they profited from it, padding their pockets with pay for phantom soldiers and reaping a bountiful harvest. On the other hand, they watched the military funds from above dwindle year after year, knowing things couldn't go on like this forever.

They couldn't think of a solution, so they clung to a gambler's hope, living day by day.

After all, embezzling phantom soldiers' pay was hardly uncommon in any dynasty—how many armies had actually mutinied over it?

Who would've thought the prefect had that kind of pull—with a single move, he'd secured an imperial edict to solve their big problem!

His Majesty had decreed that the two garrisons and ten battalions of Tongzhou be cut down to 11,000 men.

Wasn't that easy?

All they had to do was strike the fake military households from the rolls, and the immediate crisis would be solved!

After reading the edict in full, Le Wuya handed it to Qin Xingyue for safekeeping, then invited the chiliarchs—who could barely contain their joy—into the meeting hall.

Once they were seated, the chiliarchs finally got a good look at Le Wuya's face.

But his youth and good looks earned only a moment of surprise; the rest of their attention was taken up by admiration.

Under their fervent gazes, Le Wuya rested his hand on the tall stacks of registers beside him and said, "I've reviewed the registers you submitted. The parts I've marked can be struck from the military rolls first."

As he spoke, Hua Rong, who'd just served tea, came out from behind the screen and quickly handed out the registers to the assembled chiliarchs.

He handed them out with perfect accuracy—each man got the stack for his own jurisdiction.

The chiliarchs had figured the prefect's claim of "reviewing" them was just a formality. But when they opened the books, a fresh wave of cold sweat broke out on them.

They'd thought: who would bother reading such tiny, ant-sized script?

The prefect had, that's who.

Not only had he read them, he'd actually circled every problematic military household!

Le Wuya ignored their changing expressions and instructed, "When you get back, verify the arrears owed to each household and draft a report for my review. Whoever finishes first gets paid first."

Le Wuya swept his gaze around the room, and seeing the cunning glint in the chiliarchs' eyes, added softly, "Bring the head of each household with you to Tongzhou Prefecture to pick up the money."

The chiliarchs' schemes had barely taken shape before they were cut short.

They couldn't help but show reluctant looks on their faces.

...By the usual custom, whenever military funds were handed out from above, they'd skim a cut for themselves.

This sum of money is bound to be substantial—a tempting windfall. They’d be itching to get a piece of it.

One man couldn’t help himself and said with an ingratiating smile, “Your Excellency, many military households are owed back pay. In each garrison, at least one or two hundred households—and up to three or four hundred. Wouldn’t it be chaotic to have several hundred people show up all at once? Better we collect it all and distribute it ourselves.”

“Soldiers—what harm is there in drilling them on marching and formation?” Le Wuya smiled, brushing the matter aside with ease. “I requisitioned this money from the court. Are you all trying to steal this credit from me too?”

The chiliarchs had nothing to say and could only abandon their plans to skim another cut, not daring to entertain any thoughts of defiance.

This money was indeed meant to cover the shortfalls they’d created earlier.

In the future, they could embezzle and grab as they pleased—but if they offended the prefect now, they might well be made an example of.

They had no desire to end up like Wei Yixian, losing their posts and landing in prison over nothing.

Seeing them quiet down, Le Wuya continued, “For military households where someone was wounded, disabled, or killed in combat, no one may be struck from the rolls.”

“For households where able-bodied men died of accidents, illness, or other non-combat causes—leaving only the elderly, the weak, women, and children—they may be placed on the removal list. In addition to back pay, they’ll receive an extra severance allowance.”

“The garrison soldiers we eliminated earlier weren’t exactly capable or sharp. You must keep scouting and building up a pool of new candidates. Every time I conduct a round of cuts, you must provide replacements.”

Le Wuya didn’t waste a word—just got straight to the point.

The chiliarchs all looked grave, realizing this man was no ordinary civil official but someone who knew military matters inside out.

They became even more wary, nodding and agreeing left and right.

Once Le Wuya had finished laying out their tasks, someone chimed in with flattery: “The prefect is truly a godsend to Tongzhou. The moment you arrived, the back-pay problem was solved. We’re truly grateful beyond words.”

Le Wuya took the praise in stride, waving his small fan lazily and saying, “No big deal. This time I helped you; down the road, there’ll be plenty of chances for you to help me. And when that time comes, I won’t be shy about it.”

A chorus of appreciative laughter rose from the room.

Amid the laughter and good cheer, the chiliarchs let their guard down.

What they feared most was a stuffy civil official who’d just lecture them about expecting nothing in return and serving Dayu wholeheartedly—all empty talk.

A horse won’t get fat without a midnight snack—that’s an age-old truth.

What was the point of spouting that kind of useless crap?

Prefect Wenren put it more bluntly: give and take, mutual benefit—that’s what makes things last.

Convinced they’d gotten Le Wuya’s tacit approval, the chiliarchs piled on more flattery before leaving with broad smiles, everyone feeling good about the deal.

After seeing them off, Le Wuya flopped lazily into the Grand Tutor’s chair, slipping back into his usual self.

Qin Xingyue topped off his tea.

Qin Xingyue knew full well that some military brass were exactly like that—greedy, stupid, and selfish.

Even when the Pei and Le families held the borders with strict discipline, they couldn’t help but produce a few bad apples like this.

If things hadn’t been so rotten, how could Tongzhou’s military have fallen apart like this?

With a chunk of military pay and a few well-chosen words, Le Wuya had taken control, cowed them, and lulled them into thinking he was “one of them.”

“One of them”—that was good.

A knife in the back from “one of them” cuts faster, cleaner, and meaner.

As Le Wuya leaned back to chat with Qin Xingyue, Yang Zheng suddenly strode in from outside, his voice bright with excitement: “Your Excellency!”

Le Wuya looked at him, a smile still tugging at his lips: “What—”

His words trailing off, Le Wuya spotted someone over Yang Zheng’s shoulder.

The man wore a straw hat, dusty and travel-worn, sleeves rolled up past his elbows, revealing thin, stick-like forearms tanned a shade darker. At first glance, he looked like just another ordinary old field hand.

Seeing Le Wuya look at him, the man took off his straw hat, fanned himself a couple of times, and kept a stiff, cold face as he made small talk: “…Hot day, huh.”

Le Wuya let out a whoop and lunged forward, hoisting the man up without a second thought, spinning him around twice: “Brother Yingchen!”

Qi Wuhu was startled, his cold facade cracking: “Nonsense! Put me down!”

Le Wuya’s eyes crinkled with laughter: “What did I tell you? You were destined to be mine sooner or later!”

Qi Wuhu was half laughing, half exasperated: “Now that you’re a big official, you’re still talking like a kid! Shame on you! Put me down right now!”

Afraid he might throw out the old man’s back, Le Wuya barely reined in his wild excitement: “Xiao Huarong, fetch the whip!”

Hua Rong agreed readily and dashed off.

Before long, he returned with a golden whip, presenting it at Le Wuya’s side.

Le Wuya took it, twirled it elegantly in the air, and offered it with both hands to Qi Wuhu, smiling: “Brother Yingchen, the golden whip is ready, and the magistrate’s post at Yunliang County has long been prepared for you—just waiting for your arrival!”

Qi Wuhu gazed at the golden whip, his eyelids trembling slightly: “You still remember that?”

“How could I forget anything I promised Brother Yingchen?” Le Wuya flashed a row of fine white teeth. “A copper whip painted with gold lacquer—just a token of my regard. Don’t you dare call it shabby.”

Qi Wuhu said no more, kneeling stiffly and speaking tersely: “Qi Yingchen, magistrate of Yunliang, at your command!”

Le Wuya quickly helped him up.

For such a stubborn old magistrate with a backbone of iron, Le Wuya could only feel respect.

Qi Wuhu looked at his crimson robe of a fourth-rank official, as if seeing a promising junior of his own family, and a rare smile crept onto his face: “By the way. There’s someone else who came with me.”

Le Wuya was momentarily taken aback.

A name came to mind, but he hardly dared to believe it.

The August provincial exam, the September results—surely he wouldn’t have come this quickly?

And the next moment, Wenren Yue stepped out from the shadows by the door, clad in a blue scholar’s robe and a Confucian scholar’s cap.

Perhaps due to the summer heat and exam preparation, he had grown thinner, making his features appear even more clear-cut and his bearing more resolute.

The only thing unchanged was his gentle, water-soft gaze.

Le Wuya murmured, “…Scholar Ming?”

“Your Excellency, wrong,” Yang Zheng added with a smile. “He’s the top graduate of our Yizhou provincial exam—Juren Ming!”

Wenren Yue seemed to read Le Wuya’s thoughts. Without waiting for him to ask, he strode forward and swept Le Wuya into an embrace: “After the exam, I hurried to pack and settle my mother. The moment the good news came, I came to find you.”

His embrace was warm and full of vitality, carrying a faint scent of books, softening Le Wuya’s heart. He teased, “Why in such a hurry?”

Wenren Yue whispered by his ear: “My heart ached for you, and I couldn’t sleep at night—that’s why.”

Le Wuya, unconcerned, smiled and poked him in the waist: "Got first place, and still slacking off?"

"Only by the side of Prefect Wenren can one truly improve." He was a stickler for gentlemanly decorum, giving a fleeting, dragonfly-on-water hug that ended as quickly as it began, and asked, "Prefect Wenren, has everything gone smoothly?"

Le Wuya's eyes narrowed slyly like a little fox, revealing a proud and self-satisfied look: "All good, all good—everything's coming up roses!"

Wen Ren gazed at him, his heart radiated a steady, overflowing warmth mixed with a bitter ache.

He had thought that after such a long separation, he'd be able to keep his composure and greet him properly.

Yet at the mere sight of him, his heart was no longer his own.

It pounded like a war drum—damn annoying.