Of course, the salary itself was hardly the point anymore. Rumor had it that anyone who wanted to give Steward Wu a gift had to line up for the privilege.

As the saying went, even the gatekeeper of a prime minister ranked no differently from a seventh-rank official[1]. Master He was no less important to Great Yuan than any prime minister, so why did this particular “seventh-rank official” insist on gnawing radishes every day?

“What do you know?” Steward Wu glanced at the old woman. “The more frugal I am, the more Master and Madame can trust me.”

The woman looked somewhat worried. “Master has gone south to fight this time. Do you think he can win?”

Steward Wu laughed. “His Majesty can’t say for sure, and even all those great officials throughout the royal court can’t say for sure, so what makes you think my answer would be any more reliable? Naturally, I hope that our master wins. Besides, from top to bottom, he’s the only...