Hot, steaming food quickly arrived. Perhaps because of the burly man’s instructions, this time the meal seemed a lot more decent: a tray of slightly grayish steamed buns and a bowl of dark, oily pickled vegetables.

The steamed buns looked freshly made, their distinctive wheaty aroma wafting through the air. Jiang Huai swallowed hard, and the other prisoners stared hungrily at the food.

Their time on the road to exile had been even harsher than Jiang Huai’s. They were starved of anything substantial, and in the military camp, their meals were barely enough to fill their stomachs. As long as they didn’t move much, they could endure for a while, but after last night’s grueling mental work, they were dizzy with hunger. The smell of proper food was so tantalizing that, had they forgotten where they were, they might have lunged for it.

“Clear off this table,” Jiang Huai said, pointing to a clean one nearby.

Although the others didn’t understand his intention, the food was essentially held hostage by him. Whether they got to eat depended on cooperating, so they quickly tidied the table as instructed.

Jiang Huai blew the dust off the tabletop before carefully placing the tray of buns and bowl of pickles on it. The prisoners’ eyes burned with anticipation.

Counting the buns, Jiang Huai found there were nine in total. With four people here, it would mean two buns each, with one left over.

He checked the sizes of the buns to make sure they were roughly the same, then divided them into four portions: three with two buns and one with three.

Surprisingly, no one objected to the unequal portions. Instead, their eyes were glued to the buns, scrutinizing each share to see if any was larger. Though the buns were nearly identical in size, they couldn’t help but compare.

After dividing the buns, Jiang Huai turned his attention to the pickled vegetables. Dividing the buns had been straightforward, but the vegetables were trickier. Jiang Huai didn’t trust his skill at perfectly portioning such uneven food. Seeing the others’ hungry stares, he asked, “Who’s willing to divide the pickles?”

Before anyone could volunteer, he added, “Whoever divides them will pick their share last.”

This second statement silenced two of the men. They knew their own limitations—if it came to sneakily taking more, they were capable, but dividing evenly was another story. What if they ended up with the smallest portion of the lot? That would be unbearable.

“Sir, this old man will divide it,” said the oldest of the three prisoners, stepping forward.

Jiang Huai stepped aside to make room. The old man approached the bowl of pickles, eyeing it carefully. Since there were no extra bowls or utensils, he placed portions of the pickles directly onto the buns. The other two men watched his hands like hawks, trying to determine if any portion was larger than the others.

Despite their scrutiny, the old man showed skill. He managed to divide the pickles so evenly that it was impossible to tell which share had more.

“Sir, I’ve finished dividing,” the old man said, stepping back.

Jiang Huai was the first to take his share—the one with three buns. “The rest of you, take one each. You, go first,” he said, pointing at one of the men.

The chosen man had been prepared and quickly grabbed his portion, devouring it. The second man wasted no time taking his share, leaving the old man with the last portion, which he ate slowly and methodically.

For a while, the room was silent except for the sounds of chewing. Jiang Huai initially thought three buns might be too much for him, but once he started eating, he realized how ravenous he was. After working all night, his appetite had grown, and he easily finished all three.

Though eating and sleeping immediately after isn’t ideal, Jiang Huai knew this was his only chance to rest. Once the soldiers returned with new recruits to help with the accounts, it would be back to nonstop work.

Yawning, Jiang Huai lay down and quickly fell asleep, urging the others to rest too before the reinforcements arrived.

With Jiang Huai’s earlier suggestion, the soldiers tasked with finding more accountants approached the job differently. Explaining the situation clearly, they found several willing volunteers this time. Given the sheer volume of accounts, they also combed through the earlier group of exiled prisoners, finding over ten people who could read and calculate.

When the burly man saw so many new recruits, he was overjoyed. His relief was short-lived, however, as he realized he had no patience to manage this group. Spotting Jiang Huai, he unceremoniously conscripted him into the role.

“You’re a clever one. You handle these people and report to me when the work is done,” he ordered before leaving in a hurry. He did, however, leave two soldiers behind to assist Jiang Huai and ensure order.

Thrown into the role, Jiang Huai felt a bit flustered but maintained a calm façade.

He didn’t trust these prisoners—there might be some decent people among them, but they’d be the exception. If they sensed he was easy to bully, they’d surely try to exploit him.

Though Jiang Huai wasn’t an experienced accountant, he knew how to organize tasks. Collecting all the account books, he had everyone skim through them to understand the records before dividing them into categories. Only then did he assign tasks: preliminary calculations, reviews, and cross-checks. Jiang Huai took on the final step of reviewing and compiling the results, a task that seemed lighter but carried the greatest responsibility.

Some prisoners resented Jiang Huai’s authority, but with the burly man’s instructions and the soldiers backing him up, they had no choice but to comply.

As the accounts were sorted and tallied, Jiang Huai meticulously recorded each result. However, the more he worked, the more he noticed something off. The numbers seemed too tidy—suspiciously so. Everything appeared normal on the surface, but the consistency was almost unnatural.

Jiang Huai quickly realized there might be deeper issues with these accounts. Given that the previous accountant had run into trouble, this was no small matter. He decided to feign ignorance. Getting involved in such a situation was a risk he couldn’t afford.

He couldn’t even let others suspect that he’d noticed anything.

This was a dangerous trap, a ticking time bomb. It might explode or remain dormant, but Jiang Huai wasn’t eager to stick around and find out. He couldn’t shake the feeling that, as a minor character in this world, he might be cursed to stumble into calamities.

Despite the heavy weight on his mind, Jiang Huai kept his expression neutral and focused on completing the work. Once everything was tallied, he had the soldiers report to the burly man.

When the burly man reviewed the finalized accounts, he flipped through them quickly and found no issues. Impressed, he regarded Jiang Huai with newfound admiration.

“You’re not bad, kid. The army could use someone to handle the accounts. It wouldn’t be an official position, but you’d earn a stipend. Even if the position gets filled, you could work as an assistant and still make some silver.”

The burly man knew the likely fate of these exiled prisoners—they’d be sent to the frontier to farm or guard the borders. Jiang Huai, with his slight build, wouldn’t survive long in such harsh conditions. Knowing his talent, the man couldn’t bear to see it wasted.

“Sir…” Jiang Huai started to protest.

“What’s your name again?” the burly man interrupted, not even waiting for his reply.

“Jiang Huai,” he answered.

The burly man repeated the name, finding it surprisingly refined. It struck a chord, as though he’d heard it somewhere before.

Fetching the records of the new prisoners, he quickly found Jiang Huai’s entry and froze.

For those stationed at the border, the Wei family was a household name. The Jiang family, on the other hand, had been relatively obscure. Even though Grand Tutor Jiang had been the Crown Prince’s tutor, he was one of many figures surrounding the prince and didn’t stand out much.

That was until the Wei family was accused of treason, dragging the Jiang family into scandal due to their ties to the Crown Prince. The Jiang family’s exile had become a hot topic in the region.

But why was Jiang Huai here in Anyuan Prefecture? According to the records, the Jiang family had been sent to Huaixing Prefecture, which was in the north, far from here in the south.

The burly man didn’t dwell on it. He only felt that since he’d discovered this connection, he ought to look after Jiang Huai. His accounting skills were a convenient excuse to justify extra care.

Looking at Jiang Huai’s frail appearance, the burly man felt more determined. The kid needed proper nutrition to survive the winter.

Jiang Huai, meanwhile, noticed the shift in the burly man’s attitude. Suspecting he might recognize his background, Jiang Huai wondered if he was an old friend of the Jiang family. Yet he couldn’t recall any military connections.

Even so, Jiang Huai wasn’t about to give up on leaving the camp. He understood that staying here, even with the burly man’s protection, wasn’t ideal. Once the man was gone, Jiang Huai would still be a prisoner, subject to anyone’s whims.

The looming issue of the accounts only strengthened his resolve to leave. He couldn’t risk being caught in a potential scandal.

“Sir, it’s not that I don’t wish to serve, but my arithmetic is only average. I managed these accounts with the help of others. Alone, I’d struggle to keep up,” Jiang Huai said, attempting to refuse politely.

He knew pushing too hard could backfire. If rejection wasn’t an option, he’d have to bide his time and plan his escape.

The burly man frowned, sensing something amiss. “You’re holding back something, aren’t you? Don’t give me the same excuse. Tell me the real reason.”

Jiang Huai hesitated before finally replying, “Sir, I’ve already made arrangements with someone. They’ll pay to redeem me, and I plan to make a living outside, earning enough to cover my annual penal fees.”