Chapter 23.1

Two heavy partition doors were violently kicked open with a tremendous “bang.” The doors swung half a circle before rebounding, and Wei Jing had already charged into the inner room. In that split second, he looked at Shao Qing. Although her once-beautiful face was now pallid and shocked, she was at least unharmed. Determined in his heart, he instantly dashed over to the back window. With a “pa” sound, the back window was pushed open, and he saw a dark blue figure sprinting out for seven or eight steps until reaching the base of the wall.

Wei Jing’s expression was cold and fierce as he plucked a silver hairpin that belonged to Shao Qing from the side table. With a swift flick, the hairpin shot out like lightning toward the enemy’s critical spot on his back.

That man didn’t deserve to die—in a twist of fate, his short stature allowed him to avoid the vital spot narrowly. The silver hairpin grazed his shoulder, then lodged straight into the wall, nearly missing its mark.

Qu Qian was so frightened that his very soul seemed to fly away. He didn’t even bother to clear away the stray weeds—instead, he scrambled and tumbled forward in a frantic roll.

It turned out that behind the waist-high, lush weeds lay a small hole, much like a dog door, that led out to an alley. He had snuck in from there—and never expected to be caught immediately. In one tumble, he rolled out of the county office, and Qu Qian, in a flurry, scrambled to his feet and bolted away.

Wei Jing’s face remained as calm as water, his eyes cold and piercing. Yet he did not immediately give chase. Instead, without a moment’s pause, he turned and headed toward Shao Qing. Not fully trusting her safety, he decided he must secure her first.

Acting swiftly, Wei Jing grabbed a clean inner shirt from the table and unfolded it as he said, “Ah Qing, I’ll take you over to the Kou family’s place.”

Shao Qing’s hair was disheveled and still dripping with water, clearly making her an unsuitable target for being followed. Fortunately, the thief moved stealthily—upon being discovered, he immediately took off, clearly dreading the light. Bringing her to a crowded area would ensure her safety. He would return very soon.

“I…” In the dead of night, she suddenly caught sight of an eyeball silently staring right at her—a sight more terrifying than any horror film. Fortunately, having been through her share of ordeals recently, Shao Qing quickly recovered from her momentary shock.

Though she managed to come to her senses, her situation was extremely awkward. Huddled in a bathtub—clutching her shoulders for comfort—she found Wei Jing standing before her. He had opened up his inner shirt and leaned in above the back of her head. But now was no time for sentimentality. That mysterious stranger’s identity was unknown, and if he managed to escape, it would only add another layer of hidden danger.

Gritting her teeth, she mustered her courage and stood up from the water. Steam billowed around her as droplets of water cascaded down; the moment they touched the air, tiny goosebumps immediately sprang up on her reddened skin. The dim, yellow glow of an oil lamp fell upon her. Unsure whether it was the cold or some other cause, she clutched her shoulders and shivered slightly. An inner shirt was quickly draped over her.

Shao Qing hurriedly gathered it around her and helped her slip it on sideways—she didn’t even have time to dry herself off, saying they’d talk about that later.

Wei Jing took his outer garment and draped it over her. Once she hastily dressed, he brushed aside her slightly disheveled neckline, scooped her up in one arm, and immediately whisked her out of the outer chamber.

Under the corridor of the main hall, Kou Xuan, Yan Ming, and the others were already waiting. However, they dared not go inside and could only wait anxiously with worried faces.

“Lord?” Kou Xuan, still holding a short knife he’d acquired on the way, looked tense and, upon seeing Wei Jing, rushed in at once.

“I’ll go after that little thief. You all stay together and wait for my return.” Wei Jing squeezed Shao Qing’s hand before darting out. However, he did not give chase immediately; instead, he concealed himself in the shadows to observe. He noticed that Kou Xuan and Yan Ming were each holding a short knife, carefully scanning their surroundings from either side with their backs turned so they wouldn’t inadvertently glance at Shao Qing.

Yuan Hong, lacking a knife, was so frightened his face turned pale, and he too kept his gaze directed outward, not daring to look back. Meanwhile, while remaining vigilant, the Kou family’s sisters-in-law used a cloth to dry Shao Qing’s wet hair.

He calmed himself, pointed his toes, and leaped into the back alley—landing exactly where Qu Qian had tumbled out. Though he had lost a few moments, tracking him was not difficult.

Qu Qian had been injured—even if the wound was slight and the blood barely visible, Wei Jing’s keen eyes easily detected it and pursued him.

In his panic, Qu Qian ran blindly, not even knowing which way he was heading, choosing a direction completely different from that of the neighboring Qu household. After running for a while without anyone catching up, his wits slowly returned; he then changed direction and raced toward the main street. He wasn’t foolish enough to go home. Instead, he planned to circle around the bustling district to erase his tracks and then send someone to have a car dispatched to pick him up.

Wei Jing was absolutely terrifying—he’d never seen anyone like him in his life. In that instant, Qu Qian truly believed he was going to die. All the usual bravado—talking about a daring sprint or complimenting a beauty—vanished from his mind. At that moment, he had only one thought: avoid that ominous harbinger. Clutching his shoulder, he ran forward with every ounce of strength. Fortunately, his luck that night had not yet run out; before Wei Jing could catch up, he reached the alley’s entrance and encountered a familiar face.

Meanwhile, following the blood trail, Wei Jing rounded a corner. In the silent, pitch-black narrow lane, he could clearly hear the frantic, disorganized sound of running footsteps. He curled his lips coldly and dashed forward.

Turning another corner, the silver moonlight spilled over half the face of the man ahead. Wei Jing recognized him at a glance—it was exactly that Third Master Qu he had seen in daylight.

Qu Qian had already reached the entrance of the alley; outside lay the bustling main street of the night market, filled with people and vehicles. Wei Jing grasped a silver hairpin, just about to shoot it to subdue him, when he suddenly saw that Qu Qian—who had just stepped out of the alley—abruptly recoiled.

At that moment, his mind stirred, and his hand paused briefly.

Up ahead, although Qu Qian instinctively shrank back, it was by then too late; a man’s voice had already sounded, “Eh? Xiumu? It really is you! What’re you doing taking the back alley tonight?”

The voice was exceptionally hearty. Barely had the words fallen when a young man dressed in an ocher wide-sleeved long robe strode in. He looked about twenty-five or twenty-six, with thick eyebrows and large eyes; his manner and voice were equally bold. In a very magnanimous way, he draped his arm over Qu Qian’s shoulder and patted him.

“Hiss!” The pat struck squarely on Qu Qian’s wound.

The young man let out an exclamation—”Eh!”—glanced at the injury, then laughed and said, “Aren’t you having another spat with Lord Qu? Come, wrap up that wound; let’s go have a drink!”

Seeing that he’d been discovered, Qu Qian didn’t try to dodge any further. With lingering trepidation, he glanced back at the dark, empty alley, swallowed hard, and even smiled, “Alright then!”

Just outside the alley entrance, a carriage—the young man’s—hastily arrived. The two, linking shoulders and arms in a friendly manner, climbed aboard amid laughter and conversation.

Wei Jing stood on a rooftop shaded by a great tree, silently observing the two people in the carriage below. He recognized this young man from daylight—though he had only caught a fleeting glimpse, the man stood at the head of a group of local gentry, which left an impression on him. His gaze landed on the family crest hanging at the front of the carriage, its gilded design centered by a seal-script character “Zhuang.”

This was the Zhuang family of Pingtao—the very one he had perused that afternoon among the local gentry families of Pingtao, one of the more prominent among them. Its current head was Zhuang Yan, aged twenty-six.

Wei Jing’s eyes flickered ever so slightly.

There was something intriguing about this Zhuang Yan. When Qu Qian saw him—even if he was fleeing for his life—he would instinctively recoil; yet when they came face-to-face, the two behaved in an unexpectedly congenial manner. It was highly likely that this man had once made Qu Qian suffer a severe, unspoken loss—a setback that left a lasting, indelible impression without any clear fault attributable to him. Not only had it not soured the relationship between the Zhuang family and the Qu family, but Qu Qian himself had never harbored any resentment.

If that were indeed the case, then this man truly possessed a certain skill, considering that the Zhuang family had long been surviving under the thumb of the Qu family.

Amid all of this, Wei Jing faintly detected an additional nuance—for instance, a rebellious streak.

Thinking back to the Zhuang family’s ancestral records he had perused that afternoon, he lowered his eyes and pondered for a moment. Without taking any further action, he silently trailed behind the carriage.

The carriage did not travel very far before stopping in front of an inn—a place that looked familiar, one where Wei Jing and his group had once lodged.

The door was closed; the inn had already closed for the night. Yet the driver knocked, and the door was quickly opened. The young attendant bent over in a bow, and the female proprietor stepped out to greet them.

Adopting the manner of a gracious host, Zhuang Yan led Qu Qian inside.

Outside, the inn’s flag flapped in the night breeze. Wei Jing, whose eyesight was excellent, was able to make out in the pale lantern light a family crest identical to the one on the carriage. Undoubtedly, this establishment was part of the Zhuang family’s estate.

Zhuang Yan ordered his staff to bandage Qu Qian’s wounds. However, Qu Qian, clearly harboring some misgivings, waved him off—insisting that it was merely an abrasion and nothing serious, and that he did not need it bandaged. The two then sat down at a table, engaging in a friendly exchange as they drank and ate.

Wei Jing’s cold gaze swept briefly over Qu Qian before, tiptoeing away silently, he departed. He was only taking his leave temporarily. Just a moment ago, Wei Jing had already pinpointed Zhuang Yan as his breakthrough target, for he cared only about Shao Qing and could not bear leaving her behind for too long.

Meanwhile, Shao Qing hurriedly wiped her hair. It was impossible for it to be completely dry, so she roughly gathered what was nearly dry back into a bun. Her inner shirt was a bit wet, but compared to the long stint of cold rain earlier, this was nothing; she seemed unfazed and kept frequently glancing out.

Wei Jing had been out for quite a while. With his skills, he wouldn’t normally take this long to subdue even a clumsy little petty thief—there must be some new development.

Shao Qing couldn’t help but worry. The earlier awkward tension had completely dissipated, but she couldn’t sit still. She rose and began pacing again. Suddenly, feeling a premonition, she looked up and saw Wei Jing’s figure clearly stationed at the main gate.

“Husband!” Overjoyed, Shao Qing bolted out in leaps—as if three steps were taken in two—exclaiming, “Why have you been gone for so long?”

“There is some new development.” Wei Jing patted her on the shoulder in comfort. Then, turning to Kou Xuan and the others who had just surged forward, he said, “It’s Third Master Qu. He went over here on his own initiative.”

“Everything’s fine now; no one should sneak in tonight again. You can all rest, but it’s best to leave someone on guard.”

Having given a brief explanation, Wei Jing reached over and put his arm around Shao Qing. Earlier, in the rush of events, he hadn’t bothered to hide the fact that members of the Kou family were present, but now that wasn’t necessary. With a slight push off on his toes, he leaped straight up to the upper floor—and in a couple of swift moves, he was gone from sight.

…

“Husband, what is this new development?”

The wind was howling, and Shao Qing looked upward. Seeing that his expression remained calm and that he had returned with time to fetch her, she deduced that some progress must have been made. At first, she was delighted, but then a concern crept in: “It’s best not to make a move with this Third Master Qu just yet, lest we alert the enemy.”

Being spied on while bathing—and then startled—would undoubtedly infuriate anyone, yet the overall situation was paramount. With the bathtub serving as a shield, Third Master Qu could see little. Still, Shao Qing worried more about exposing her face and revealing her identity as a woman, which might lead to undesirable consequences.

Speaking of that man, Wei Jing’s gaze turned dark and piercing. After a pause, he said, “Once this matter here is settled, I will definitely unearth and expose that scoundrel’s secret.”

His tone was stern, but Shao Qing let out a sigh of relief; he had promised to set aside that issue for now.

Wei Jing then ran his fingers through her half-damp sideburns and furrowed his brows in concern. Given the exceptional circumstances, there was nothing he could do about it. Instead, he recounted aloud everything he had just witnessed.

“Then shall we start by targeting the Zhuang family?”

Listening to him, Shao Qing mused that Zhuang Yan wasn’t exactly foolish. On one hand, the Qu family had been entrenched for over a decade, deeply rooted; on the other, here stood a newly appointed county magistrate who—even if he appeared to be no ordinary figure—was unlikely to be willing to take the lead.

Unless, of course, Wei Jing was absolutely certain of his victory and that significant, personal interests of the Zhuang family were involved. Otherwise, it wouldn’t make sense—hasn’t the Zhuang family been enduring quietly for over ten years?

Wei Jing gave a slight smile. “Salt.”

…

The same word, “salt,” was also spoken by Wei Jing to Zhuang Yan.

After downing two pots of wine and eating his fill, Qu Qian’s heart finally quieted a bit—and the Qu family’s carriage had arrived. He let out a drunken belch and said, “Wengui, I’m off for now; let’s meet again another day.”

“Take care and travel slowly.” Zhuang Yan himself helped Qu Qian, his glance casually drifting to the other’s shoulder, stained with blood and torn by a sharp object. He raised an eyebrow but said nothing, simply smiling as he assisted his companion into the carriage.

At the driver’s shout, Zhuang Yan folded his arms and watched as the carriage gradually receded into the distance. Then he suppressed his smile, lowered his eyes for a moment, and turned away. After ambling a few steps without much thought, he suddenly paused in astonishment.

At the small door that led from the tavern to the back guesthouse, he noticed—seemingly out of nowhere—a tall, dark figure standing there, unfamiliar and imposing.

Silently and without a sound, Zhuang Yan turned pale.

“Zhuang Wengui.” The man turned around. With his sideburns as sharply cut as if by a knife and eyes as cold as stars, he turned out, astonishingly, to be none other than the new county magistrate whom he had seen only in broad daylight.

“Zhuang Yan greets the honorable County Magistrate Yang.” Startled, Zhuang Yan nearly feels his heart leap from his throat, yet he immediately bows in deference without delay.

“Rise.” Wei Jing had already escorted Shao Qing into the nearest empty guesthouse. He then strolled slowly into the main hall, where he stood silently.

With his mind racing, Zhuang Yan intoned to the servants in a low, grave voice, “Close up shop. All of you, clear out immediately.”

The door was swiftly secured and locked, leaving only the two of them inside. He paused to steady his pounding heart and then, in a courteous yet respectful tone, asked, “Honorable Magistrate, your presence this late in the night has truly brightened my humble shop. May I ask, Master Yang…?” Zhuang Yan’s words trailed off, and just the right hint of perplexity appeared on his face.

In truth, after his initial shock had subsided, it became all too clear what Wei Jing intended. To his astonishment, this Magistrate Yang—far superior to his predecessors—had approached the local aristocratic family of Pingtau so quickly, and his profound abilities left Zhuang Yan stunned.

Yet, despite everything mentioned, none of it compelled Zhuang Yan to become involved in the dispute between the two parties.

In an instant, he steeled himself. Outwardly, his demeanor remained full of respectful courtesy, but inwardly, he was unmoved as a mountain.

Wei Jing, having understood completely, offered a faint smile and said,
“Today, as I was leafing through the ancestral records, I discovered that Pingtao once enjoyed the privilege of an official salt monopoly. What a pity that now it has completely dried up.”

According to the county annals and genealogical records, one of the two so-called ‘barbarian’ tribes—the Pu tribe—held salt wells in its territory that produced well salt, which was traded from Pingtao to Yizhou. Although the production scale was small, it was still official salt, granted by the Governor of Yizhou himself, who issued the salt permits.

In practice, however, the operation was handled by Pingtao County—the county neighboring the Pu territory—which collected a share of the salt tax. In this remote southwestern region, Pingtau was, in fact, an exceptionally affluent county.

Alas, the good times did not last long. Over a decade ago, the Pu tribe regretfully informed Yizhou that the salt wells were gradually running dry—so much so that even now, they produce only enough for self-sustenance.

The well has run dry, the salt is gone, and the heavens won’t send us any food—what can be done?

This is a helpless matter. However, Yizhou’s reserves of salt and iron are so abundant that a shortage hardly raises any alarm. So, the matter just passed without making a ripple.

Wei Jing pursed his lips. “It just so happens that only a few years after County Officer Qu assumed office at Pingtao, this salt well ran dry.”

“Indeed—what’s more, the drying occurred in the very year County Officer Qu fully consolidated his power.”

Is it really such a coincidence? Wei Jing didn’t think so. It is much more likely that Qu Cheng and the two families reached an agreement to convert the official salt supply into a private venture and reap exorbitant profits. Truly, it was a win-win deal for everyone. But were there no parties who suffered losses? Certainly, there were. It was the group of merchants who had previously obtained the official salt permits—in other words, the credentials that allowed them to transport and sell salt.

Looking down with an air of superiority, Wei Jing calmly stated, “According to the family annals, more than half of the official salt permits that year ended up in the hands of the Pingtao village gentry.”

“You!” A low, indifferent male voice—quiet in volume yet striking Zhuang Yan’s ears like an exploding thunderclap—boomed, causing him to step back in alarm.

“You—you!” he stammered, unable to finish his sentence.

With only a few bland sentences from the annals for support, Wei Jing had reconstructed the entire situation in a manner completely at odds with the truth. In doing so, he had forcefully exposed the deep-rooted conflict between him and the Qu family, so that even the normally composed Zhuang Yan couldn’t help but show a look of shock.

The Qu family indeed secretly reached an agreement with the Second Tribe to privatize the official salt. But cutting off people’s means of livelihood is equivalent to “killing one’s parents”; how could the Zhuang family possibly accept it without bearing any grudges?

In order to silence the various aristocratic families—and even to drag everyone into the mess—a portion of the profits from the private salt was distributed evenly. Yet the Qu family, driven by greed, ended up keeping only about one-tenth to one-twelfth of what had once been available.

Selling official salt on the private market is a crime of such magnitude that it would warrant the extermination of an entire clan. In the past, there was no way to earn money openly and honorably; instead, one was forced to accept these “burning hot” silver coins.

The Zhuang family wished they could hurl the silver right back onto Qu Cheng’s face. But they could not. At that time, the Qu family was overwhelmingly powerful—they had even set traps to secure leverage over the Zhuang clan. As Zhuang Yan’s father was rather soft-hearted, the Zhuang family was forced to keep silent and endure.

That endurance lasted for more than a decade. Now that Zhuang Yan’s father has passed away and Zhuang Yan himself has succeeded as the head of the family, everything has changed.

At this moment, when Wei Jing exposed the matter with one decisive rebuke, Zhuang Yan felt his hands and feet go numb; his heart raced, and with a heavy “thud,” he fell to his knees.

“Yan is willing to serve Lord Yang like a loyal hound!” he declared.

A smart man indeed. Wei Jing raised an eyebrow and, after a brief pause, allowed a slight smile to appear. Stepping forward, he helped Zhuang Yan to his feet and said, “You will redeem your past faults with your achievements. Once this matter is settled, we shall let the issue of the private salt rest in peace. And if official salt is reinstated, all will be as it was in the old days.”

“Thank you, my lord!” came the respectful reply.

In a sudden reversal, his emotions surged like a raging waterfall. Overjoyed beyond measure, Zhuang Yan knelt again, knocking his head three resounding times, and declared loudly, “I will do my utmost to relieve the county dignitary’s troubles!”

Exercising both kindness and firmness, Wei Jing—who was well-versed in managing his subordinates—summoned Zhuang Yan. Seated at his desk, he said, “Tell me every detail of the private salt affair. Leave nothing out, no matter how small.”

…

“The Pu Tribe possesses a salt well that produces salt in plentiful supply, which is sold out through Pingtao. Because our county has received this official salt for generations, we have always enjoyed prosperity. But unfortunately, ever since—twelve years ago—when the county magistrate became gravely ill after taking office, and County Officer Qu seized power, this official salt has…”

Zhuang Yan’s temperament is entirely different from that of his father. He had long harbored deep resentment against the Qu family, yet he was smooth and resourceful, always managing every matter with remarkable finesse. Now, pressed on every side, he gritted his teeth and boldly set out every detail clearly and without reservation.

Back then, the county magistrate’s prolonged illness allowed Qu Cheng to grasp power. Later, after the magistrate passed away, the newly appointed magistrate turned out to be a coward—unable to wrest power back and remain under Qu’s control. That new magistrate was also shrewd; he simply opted not to meddle in affairs at all, accepting only token silver as a tribute and spending his time in indulgent revelry.

From that point on, the Qu family firmly seized control over Pingtao, establishing themselves as a regional hegemon. Qu Cheng, driven by greed, soon set his sights on the official salt trade.

The Pu Tribe, who stood to earn even more, was naturally willing to join forces—and the two sides reached an immediate agreement. This, however, brought calamity to those common salt merchants who had previously relied on official salt for their livelihood.

The ordinary porters and small vendors, unaware of the true situation and merely assuming that the salt wells had indeed dried up, sought alternative means to make a living. Only the major salt merchants—such as the Zhuang family—not only found their revenue cut off but were also forcefully dragged into the swamp of trading private salt.

“The Zhuang family had been managing official salt for generations. My father, full of remorse for having lost our ancestral enterprise, passed away in bitterness a few years ago!”

In saying that, Zhuang Yan’s tone revealed a deep-seated resentment.

After listening, Wei Jing simply asked, “What backing does this Qu Cheng have among the prefectures and counties?”

At that, Zhuang Yan’s eyes lit up. Wei Jing’s remark truly hit the nail on the head.

Converting official salt into private trade—even if the scale were not enormous—is not something a minor county officer could handle completely. Any inadvertent hint of evidence would spell disaster, potentially bringing down an entire clan.

Qu Cheng had been at it for over a decade, with calm and steady operations—a clear sign that he had established influential connections and had powerful protection from above.

“The Qu family has developed close relations with the county governor Dong Du. Moreover, Dong Du is a cousin of the fourth wife of Yizhou’s Governor, He Yun. The fourth madam bore three sons, all of whom have already come of age.”

In today’s Great Chu, the administrative divisions are organized into three levels: below the provinces are prefectures, and below the prefectures are counties, while each province is headed by a governor. Now, the Governor of Yizhou, He Yun, has several sons who have come of age.

Once they have matured, it is only natural that they begin to vie for power and profits. For example, Dong Du is a close relative of the fourth madam and an associate of the third son of the He family. When even a single hair is tugged, the whole body moves; no one understands the hidden gains and losses in this struggle better than Zhuang Yan. Therefore—even though he feels deep resentment—he has no choice but to greet the situation with a smile.

Wei Jing then asks, “How many sons does Governor He have under his care?”