Chapter 167: Planning (Part 1)

In his previous life, Le Wuya had caught that old emperor bastard's attention because he stuck his neck out and stole the spotlight during what seemed like a routine exchange.

—When a new emperor ascends the throne, what should be the order in which out-of-town officials enter the capital for an audience?

At the time, Le Wuya had answered casually but with considerable confidence.

It wasn't until he entered the officialdom himself that Le Wuya realized how green and naive he had been back then.

In the court, there are great eagles and petty rats.

The realm is vast—just how many officials are there, anyway?

The Dayu Empire has a total of one thousand three hundred and seventy-five counties, large and small alike, so the Ministry of Personnel only evaluates officials up to the prefecture level.

Whether a county magistrate performs well or poorly is entirely determined by the Prefect's evaluation.

Therefore, for county magistrates below, earning good evaluations and climbing the stepping stone to promotion and wealth couldn't be simpler.

All they had to do was paper over their county into a picture of peace, then lavish their superiors with gifts and curry favor.

And where did the money come from?

They squeezed it out of the common folk.

Thus evil bred evil, one thing leading to another in a vicious cycle, and sooner or later, the realm would fall into chaos.

The rise and fall of dynasties is the wheel of history turning—if one accumulates too much evil, destruction is merely a matter of time, and you've got no one to blame but yourself.

But on the slow road to ruin, how many common folk would suffer?

In a life of a hundred years, who doesn't want to live comfortable and carefree?

Fortunately, Tongzhou has only two sub-prefectures and twelve counties, so this kind of scheme still has some feasibility.

Le Wuya resolved to test his strategy here.

The principal officials of each prefecture and county are generally the ones who call the shots and manage the big picture.

The deputies, on the other hand, handle the practical affairs—working their asses off day in and day out, yet never getting their moment in the spotlight. They only get their shot when their boss moves up, riding on their master's coattails.

Therefore, the dependency between principal and deputy is extremely strong—they're practically joined at the hip, climbing the same vine.

Le Wuya intended to smash this dependency.

Just as he wanted to break the reliance of military households on the Chiliarch and give them a new path up.

Le Wuya only needed to size up a man's character, watch how he operates, and cross-reference them against the boss's style to quickly discern the lay of the land in the local bureaucracy.

Who was down-to-earth and hardworking, handling the job like second nature?

Who was all talk, with not a single real strategy in their gut?

Who was dead weight in office, only thinking about fleecing the people and living it up?

Who had ulterior motives, seizing chances to frame others and stir up trouble for bosses or underlings?

Who spoke up boldly, with substance, cutting straight to the flaws...

One round wouldn't cut it.

By the second and third time, when these deputies realized they could truly get a word in edgewise before the Prefect, their ambitions would naturally swell.

He had plenty of time.

He'd take his time playing with them.

People say to win over the people, you first have to win over the officials.

Le Wuya never bought that.

Once you've risen above the crowd and become a local official, enjoying the people's tribute, don't go expecting an easy ride.

What's the point of a stagnant pond?

Wouldn't it be more interesting to toss stones together?

Sure enough, the moment he cast that stone, it sent ripples through all of Tongzhou.

Just as in Nanting, where Le Wuya killed Squire Chen as a warning and had Deputy Magistrate Sun in the palm of his hand, allowing all the follow-up work to proceed smoothly.

This time, he killed Wei Yixian—a much bigger fish—and the shock it sent was naturally not to be underestimated.

The chief officials of Tongzhou Prefecture, for once, actually got off their asses and worked, pulling all-nighters with the same fervor they'd had for the imperial examinations, all to align their stories and avoid showing their ass before the Prefect.

But Le Wuya was sharp as a tack. Whether one understood governance or not, whether one was clear or muddled, was built up over years of daily grind—how could it be crammed in a day or two?

After a round of testing, quite a few officials were exposed for what they were.

To those who answered poorly, Le Wuya didn't dress them down. He merely smiled and dismissed the official drenched in cold sweat, telling him to familiarize himself with the affairs of governance and wait for his call to return to the prefectural office.

The softer his touch, the more baffling it was, and the more it terrified people.

After meeting with a batch of officials individually, Le Wuya had a rough read on each official's mettle.

The Prefect of Puluo Prefecture wasn't bad—a stickler for the rules who got things done. Though somewhat by the book and not good at thinking on his feet, he still had the chops to run a region.

As for the one from Sanjiang Prefecture, he was not much better than Prefect Lyu.

Le Wuya thought he'd need to find a way to kick him to the curb.

Including Qi Wuhu, there were five county magistrates whose drive and spirit hadn't yet been worn down, who genuinely wanted to build something for the people. Unfortunately, Tongzhou's accumulated ills ran deep, their authority was too limited, and they were all heart but no power—so they just did what they could in their own counties and called it a day.

Three county magistrates might as well be dead in Le Wuya's eyes.

The rest could still be pulled up with a bit of effort.

After sizing up this bunch of losers under his command, Le Wuya wasn't discouraged. He bounded off cheerfully to review his garrison troops.

As he'd expected, the soldiers he'd sent back earlier had spread excellent word-of-mouth among the military households.

Now, the lower-ranking military households all knew that serving as soldiers under the Prefect meant not only three square meals, but even a little schoolhouse to attend!

Look at the ones who'd returned—they were all rosy-cheeked and well-fed, with silver bulging in their belts.

Even just taking a trip to the prefectural office was not a bad deal!

The military households, their wheels turning, began inquiring about how to get into the prefectural office, even pooling money to pull some strings.

Sure enough, Le Wuya's posted notice put an end to all those crooked notions:

The Prefect only wants capable soldiers.

If you send a useless, wilted sprout of a man, the Prefect will punish both the man and the one who recommended him.

Don't say you weren't warned.

The military households were already strapped for cash, and they weren't fools—they could do the math.

If one trip could land them a spot there, the money wouldn't be wasted.

But if they just took a stroll through the prefectural office and got kicked back a month later, it would be a loss and an embarrassment to boot.

So the vast majority of military households gave up any idea of bribing their way in.

The Chiliarchs and Centurions figured this was a golden money-making opportunity. They sat pretty at home, eagerly waiting for the military households to come bearing gifts. But to their surprise, aside from a few families who brought some cheap melons and dates, and with forced smiles spouted a load of worthless nonsense like "Please, sir, put in a good word for us; if we ever make something of ourselves, we'll never forget your great kindness," there wasn't a single other sweetener to be had.

And the Prefect's orders hung over their heads like storm clouds, pushing them to quickly pick capable men and send them to the office.

The Prefect was in urgent need of men; don't provoke his wrath.

In the end, they had no choice but to reluctantly pick a batch of men who couldn't afford to bribe and send them to the office.

With that kind of example set from the start, the military households were immediately put at ease.

So it didn't cost any money after all!

As long as you were steady and hardworking, you could get ahead!

From then on, even fewer people forked over money to the Chiliarchs and Centurions.

What's more, the Prefect had made it clear: garrison soldiers weren't just supposed to be physically strong.

Those who could read and write, or who were good at needlework or cooking, had other posts waiting for them, with the same treatment as regular garrison soldiers.

Seeing this, a Centurion named Niu thought he had Wen Ren's intentions figured out, and shelled out a hefty sum to buy the contracts of several beautiful young courtesans, passing them off as female garrison soldiers, eagerly sending them over to curry favor with the Prefect.

Sure enough, no sooner had the women arrived than Centurion Niu, who was waiting for his reward, got the beating of a lifetime, was stripped of his post clean and simple, and reduced to an ordinary military household member.

As for those women, Le Wuya didn't send them back to their old song houses and brothels, but instead sent them to work for Qi Hongzhuang.

If they were willing to earn their own keep, so much the better.

If they wanted to find another path and live a peaceful life, Le Wuya had already confiscated half of that Centurion's property and would use that money for their dowries.

With such heavy-handed measures in place, no one dared to play smart-ass tricks in front of the Prefect again.

Still, some idle gossip inevitably circulated down below:

With so many beauties delivered right to his doorstep, did the Prefect really not get tempted?

The Prefect was at that age, and such a handsome, refined man—any other guy would have kids running around by now. Why was he still single?

Le Wuya didn't pay any attention to the idle chatter below.

He was busy raking in money, meeting people, drilling troops, badmouthing those useless county magistrates behind Wen Ren's back, and reading the latest picture books.

In the middle of all that, he didn't forget to allocate a sum of funds to Qi Wuhu, telling him to go all out and get agriculture in Yunliang County booming.

Qi Wuhu had been personally picked by Le Wuya and transferred to Tongzhou by imperial decree. What's more, because the whole of Yunliang County had caused a major stir before and was terrified of drawing the Prefect's ire, no one dared to make things hard for Qi Wuhu. Everyone kowtowed to him and did whatever he said.

Qi Wuhu surveyed and measured the land of Yunliang County as fast as he possibly could, gathered up all the odd bits of land, and reported his plan for better crop seeds for the coming year to Le Wuya.

The report he'd sent the day before got a reply the very next day.

Le Wuya even approved the funds right away, telling him not to waste the winter but to make the most of the time and turn Yunliang County into Tongzhou's big granary.

Qi Wuhu stared blankly at the banknotes spread out on his desk.

In all his life, he'd never had such an easy job.

But he'd always been stone-faced; even if he was deeply moved inside, his face stayed as hard and grim as an iron plate.

The County Vice Magistrate was over the moon to see the money arrive so fast, but seeing the new county magistrate with such a gloomy, pot-bottom face, he held back his delight and secretly wondered: Could it be that Magistrate Qi wasn't happy with the amount?

...Good grief, Magistrate Qi really was the Prefect's favorite. Even in front of the guy delivering the money, he dared to put on such airs!

Who would've thought this dried-up old geezer could win the Prefect's favor so completely!

After going back, the County Vice Magistrate quietly rallied all the clerks in the county, saying that if they wanted a good life, they should just follow the magistrate and work hard together.

From then on, the running of Yunliang County went as smooth as silk.

The more stuff there was to do, the more energetic Le Wuya got.

Seeing Le Wuya back to his old self from when he first ran Nanting—full of energy, with a smile on his face—Yang Zheng, who kept watch at his gate, felt like he was just dead weight: "Brother He, tell me, where does the Prefect get so much energy every day?"

"Who knows?" He Qingsong said casually, taking a big bite of a honeydew melon. Chewing with his mouth full, a sudden thought hit him, and he asked with a sly grin, "Hey, Old Yang, you don't think our Prefect could still be a virgin, do you?"

Yang Zheng picked up the latest issue of the Tongzhou Miscellany beside him and smacked He Qingsong on the head, scolding playfully, "Get out of here."

Yang Zheng had a heavy hand, and with a thin roll of paper, he left He Qingsong seeing stars.

But He Qingsong wasn't the only one privately gossiping about Le Wuya's personal life.

A fourth-rank official, with an empty back courtyard, no wife, no kids, and not in mourning—this was almost unheard of in official circles.

For a while, rumors quietly spread.

Many households were itching to offer up beautiful women, but were scared off by the beating Centurion Niu got earlier, and only dared to watch from the sidelines.

Le Wuya let it go in one ear and out the other, too lazy to care.

Once his current business was settled, he'd have to go find his county-master sister to discuss something big.

...

Up in the capital.

At the Sixth Prince's mansion, in front of the Wuyatang hall, Xiang Zhi Jie was airing out books.

While flipping through and sunning them, he happened to spot a poem in a Song dynasty poetry collection. He stared at it for a moment, was quite moved, and carried the book back to his desk, where he dipped his brush and copied it down:

"Each goes his own way; a thousand li apart, we share the same wind."

His handwriting was wild cursive, with a boldness and freedom that didn't match his temperament.

Xiang Zhi Jie lightly blew on the rice paper, waiting for the ink to dry, when he suddenly heard Ru Feng come in to report: "My lord, Guard Jiang is back from Tongzhou."

With that, Jiang He stepped in, weary from the road, and gave a proper salute.

Zhi Jie offered a gentle smile: "Guard Jiang, you must be exhausted."

Jiang He replied coolly, "It's nothing."

At that moment, Ru Feng stole a glance at Zhi Jie, a flicker of pity in his eyes.

Zhi Jie: "?"

Jiang He didn't pick up on the silent exchange between the master and his servant.

He obediently presented the three gifts.

Zhi Jie's expression softened, and he asked, "Did Prefect Wenren send these?"

Jiang He picked up one of them: "This is Prefect Wenren's return gift—several copies of the Tongzhou Miscellany. He circled a few jokes and amusing stories, saying they were funny and that you might enjoy them."

Zhi Jie's smile thawed like early spring snow: "And what about the others?"

Jiang He picked up another: "This is from Kong Yangping of the Seventh Prince's household, given to the Sixth Prince. It's a love knot, originally tied to a piece of Hetian jade, intended to be given to Prefect Wenren as a set. But the Seventh Prince seemed hesitant before departing, saying just the jade would be enough, and the knot could be discarded. Since he didn't know what to do with it, Kong Yangping gave it to me."

Zhi Jie's smile dimmed: "..."

Oblivious, Jiang He cheerfully introduced the last gift: "This is from Deputy General An Shuguo, under Young General Pei. He was sending a new set of armor designs to Tongzhou and had nothing else with him, so he went out of his way to buy some local specialties to gift the Sixth Prince."

Jiang He was genuinely delighted.

Back then, the young general and Young General Pei were good friends, and he had served alongside An Shuguo.

Running into an old friend in a strange place—how could that not make you happy?

He just couldn't figure out why An Shuguo had such a complicated look on his face when they met.

Maybe he was just too happy for words.

Zhi Jie was quiet for a long while: "You met them in Tongzhou?"

"Yes." Jiang He nodded earnestly. "The three of us ran into each other at the Tongzhou courier station, as luck would have it, we were next-door neighbors—what a remarkable coincidence. I'd planned to head back to the capital with them, but after we saw Prefect Wenren, they'd already gone their separate ways."

Zhi Jie: "..."

It wasn't a coincidence.

It was a fox paying a visit to the henhouse.

Jiang He's eyes brightened as he remembered something else, and he continued, "There's another coincidence."

Zhi Jie closed his eyes.

He really didn't want to hear any more right now.

Unfortunately, Jiang He couldn't read the room.

He said, "When I went to drop off the gifts, I spotted Scholar Ming."

Zhi Jie opened his eyes, staring intently at him: "...Scholar Ming?"

"Yes." Jiang He nodded. "That Scholar Ming came seeking Prefect Wenren's support, and since he had nowhere to stay in Tongzhou, he just moved in with him."

Jiang He paused, then added, "Actually, he's Juren Ming now."

After a brief moment, he added, "Prefect Wenren was also a juren. In terms of scholarly standing, they're now equals."

Zhi Jie: "..."

He now realized Jiang He was truly a simple, honest man.

When he first came to serve, he'd earnestly introduced himself: "I studied under the young general, but I didn't learn much."

...As it turned out, that was an understatement.

Zhi Jie looked down at the calligraphy he'd just finished, mulling it over for a moment, and called out, "Ru Feng."

Ru Feng, who had been stifling a laugh, was caught off guard and quickly straightened up: "...Yes?"

"Have I got any assignments that would take me out of the capital anytime soon?"

Ru Feng raised an eyebrow: "...Is there?"

"Yes." Zhi Jie slowly rolled up the scroll. "Come up with one now."

Author's note:

We're all just weasels paying respects to each other.jpg