Chapter 13: Reception

The eerie silence in the Qingliang Hall lasted for a moment before Li Zhaifang cautiously spoke:

“Your Majesty, how should we proceed with the disposal of…”

“Ask what? Have you never studied the Grand Edict?!” It was as if some switch had been flipped. 

The emperor, who had been choking back sounds in his throat for a while, suddenly erupted in fury. His tone turned sharp, nearly a shout: “Follow the rules from the era of the emperor Gaozu! What, you dogs dare to act on your own? This realm belongs to the emperor Gaozu, to Emperor Taizong. Everything must be handled according to the laws of our ancestors!”

The roar echoed through the hall, shaking the beams and columns. Li Zaifang’s legs gave way, and he immediately dropped to his knees, trembling as he knocked his head against the floor repeatedly.

“Your servant will obey at once! Your servant will immediately go to the Ministry of Justice and have them summon the best leatherworkers in the Beijing! Then I will notify the Imperial Guard to go to Di Maoyan’s hometown and detain all members of the Di clan, as well as his associates, friends, and family—everyone!”

Feixuan Zhenjun’s throat seemed to seize again.

After a moment of silence, he muttered hesitantly, “…What are you rounding them up for?”

“According to the emperor Gaozu’s laws, embezzling 500 strings of cash warrants death by slicing; 1,000 strings calls for flaying and stuffing with straw, as a warning to others,” Li Zaifang stammered, trembling. 

“Later, Emperor Taizong established further regulations: embezzling 50,000 strings merits extermination of the clan, and for every additional 50,000, the number of implicated relatives doubles, and so on.”

Li Zaifang had not risen to his position as Chief Eunuch of the Directorate of Ceremonial Affairs purely by currying favor with the emperor. 

Over decades of service in the palace, Eunuch Li had compensated for his shortcomings with diligence, becoming an expert in the laws and traditions of the dynasty. His mastery of the ancestral laws of the founding and Taizong eras was so precise it could rival that of the average official in the Ministry of Justice.

It was common knowledge that Emperor Taizong was the legitimate ruler, the undisputed son to the emperor Gaozu, and the undisputable chosen son of heaven (officials of the dynasty were wise to remember these three descriptions well, lest tson nine clans face some minor “inconvenience”). 

However, due to certain reasons not easily explicable under the Great Peace Code, Emperor Taizong had always been somewhat overzealous in expressing his filial piety. 

This law of doubling punishments based on embezzled amounts was likely the result of one of Taizong’s bursts of filial devotion—a hasty decree meant to honor the emperor Gaozu’s anti-corruption ideals.

Under the circumstances of the founding and Taizong eras, the law wasn’t entirely unreasonable. At the time, major embezzlers would typically take bribes amounting to no more than 10,000 to 20,000 strings. Killing eleven or twelve of tson associates seemed sufficient. 

However, the ancestors had not accounted for the exponential growth in corruption over time—or the terrifying power of exponential scaling.

Consider this case: according to the confiscation list alone, the illicit wealth amounted to at least 300,000 taels of silver and 800,000 strings of copper coins.

Calculating by the rule of doubling for every 50,000 strings, the nine clans of the Di family—no, the nine clans of tson nine clans—might still not suffice for the executions.

After only a brief mental calculation, all the senior officials present fell into stunned silence, overcome by the terror of exponential growth.

In the midst of the silence, a ghostly whisper seemed to echo in Feixuan Zhenjun’s ear:

“…Dear heavens, Archimedes would call this a masterpiece. If we were to raid the homes of a few cabinet elders using this method, there might not be a single living soul left in Jiangxi or Shanghai…”

A collective gasp was heard from behind the screen.

At this point, Xia Ge Lao could no longer remain silent. Though he might not care about Di Maoyan’s life, as the head of all officials, he could not allow the emperor to truly exterminate the nine clans of the Di family—or tson nine clans:

“The Heavenly Son rules with benevolence. Our Emperor Taizong himself said that neither indulgence nor cruelty should be the basis of justice,” he declared solemnly. “Corruption that harms the state deserves heavenly punishment. 

However, among the Di clan, there must be those whose crimes are not deep enough to warrant full extermination. I implore Your Majesty to show mercy and punish only the primary offenders closely tied to the criminal official.”

A dozen heads would likely be enough to quell the emperor’s rage. After all, if the emperor insisted on following the founding and Taizong-era laws to the letter, could the modifications he had made in the ancestral temple truly align with tson expectations?

Enough was enough.

Having offered the emperor a way to save face, Xia Ge Lao hoped the matter would conclude. 

But Li Zaifang did not immediately take the opportunity to step down. Only when the figure behind the screen shifted slightly did he speak again, this time with a tearful expression:

“Your servant must inform Your Majesty and the grand secretaries that the primary offenders tied to the criminal official might be somewhat numerous.”

Xia Ge Lao froze. “What?”

“The criminal official was exceedingly cunning and enjoyed promoting his own kin,” Li Zaifang said in a small voice. “According to reports, during Di Maoyan’s tenure overseeing salt affairs, he appointed relatives across all levels. 

Everyone ate from the imperial coffers—even the dogs guarding the salt warehouse were strays brought from his village.”

Xia Ge Lao: …

Was this man harboring some deep grudge against his nine clans?

Speechless, Xia Ge Lao felt an unprecedented sense of exhaustion.

Let it all end. Quickly. I’m tired.
·
Xia Ge Lao fell silent, and it seemed the emperor was also unwilling to press further. After all, Feixuan Zhenjun was no emperor Gaozu and lacked the capacity to execute tens of thousands in a single breath (not to mention that the power of exponential growth was so horrifying that even the emperor Gaozu might pause). 

After an involuntary thought about that “Archimedes,” he slowly said:

“Go find the leatherworkers first. We’ll discuss the rest later.”

Upon hearing this, the ministers froze for a moment, then collectively breathed a sigh of relief. By mentioning only the leatherworkers, the emperor had approved flaying and stuffing but not the exponential punishment.

Once a rough consensus was reached, Xia Ge Lao seized the opportunity to change the topic:

“Your Majesty, Yan Ge Lao, who is responsible for overseeing Goryeo’s tribute affairs, has an urgent matter to report.”

There was a loud clunk from behind the screen as Yan Ge Lao stepped forward, trembling and bowing with difficulty. His frail movements resembled a willow swaying in the wind, causing the eunuchs nearby to watch in fear, worried he might collapse on the spot.

Of course, as a naturally frail but resilient individual—a “chosen vessel” for testing medicine—Yan Ge Lao was no stranger to physical ailments. Though he had recently suffered a nosebleed and a fever due to a dispute with the Ministry of Rites, a few doses of cooling medicine had restored him. 

Perhaps even the gods of alchemy were forced to admire the roach-like tenacity of this so-called “traitorous official.”

However, after the situation calmed down, Yan Ge Lao unexpectedly adopted his son’s suggestion. He feigned serious illness, bedridden and weak—just as Yan Donglou had suggested. 

According to him, unless the Goryeo envoys were forced to sleep in pigsties and eat pig slop, the budget allocated since the era of Emperor Gaozu would never suffice. To find a solution, they had to elicit the Emperor’s pity through the pretense of illness, paving the way to implement the long-discussed plan between father and son.

Thus, Yan Ge Lao deliberately stayed up all night, ensuring his eyes were bloodshot as he trembled while prostrating himself before the court.

“Your Majesty, the Ministry of Rites recently submitted a report, stating that this tribute mission from Goryeo may also involve the Japanese. This matter is of great importance. However, this lowly servant is severely ill and fears that national affairs may be delayed because of me.”

A few years ago, Japanese pirates raided the coastal areas, leaving a trail of plunder and destruction. Now, with Goryeo’s tribute seemingly entangled with the Japanese, the situation naturally raised alarms. The atmosphere in the hall grew tense; even Mu Qi looked up in surprise.

Historically speaking, it wasn’t surprising for Japanese pirates to have been restless in recent years. Yet the involvement of Goryeo with the Japanese seemed inconceivable. For Goryeo, which viewed itself as “Little China” and the “land of Zhuzi’s teachings,” the Central Plains was undoubtedly its legitimate elder brother. 

Japan, on the other hand, was considered an unruly bastard child, unworthy of proper civilization. How could the honorable son have dealings with such riffraff?

Of course, Mu Qi personally agreed with the description of the Japanese as unruly bastards. He even considered it one of the most accurate narratives ever published by the Orthodox Lineage. 

Yet why would Goryeo, with its obsessive attachment to propriety, expose such a connection to the Ministry of Rites?

Something about this didn’t add up.

Mu Qi discreetly moved a step forward, sharpening his focus while preparing to take notes and observe closely.

The Feixuan Zhenjun asked, “What does Lord Yan think?”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Yan Fenyi said, kowtowing. “This humble servant believes in the principle of specialization. Previously, the defense against Japanese piracy was handled by the Ministries of War and Works. 

Now, they could convene the vice ministers from these departments to address this issue with caution.”

Feixuan Zhenjun appeared to deliberate, perhaps pondering suitable candidates. Yet suddenly, a soft chime sounded from the book in his hand, prompting an eager response:

“The Vice Minister of Works? Isn’t that Yan Donglou, his son? This reeks of nepotism!”

“…Wait. On second thought, this appointment might actually be brilliant. I’ve been too rigid in my thinking. Da’an’s tribute relations have long been exploitative. Goryeo and Siam can send a few worthless trinkets and still walk away with thousands of silver taels in rewards from the court. 

Many envoys even profit through monopolistic trade deals, lining tson pockets while leaving the treasury bleeding year after year.

While the tribute trade yields profits of fifty or sixty thousand taels annually, the imperial court sees no return—utterly laughable.”

Feixuan Zhenjun froze, his hand stiff on the book. Outside, Xu Ge Lao stood equally stunned.

Since the Emperor’s ascension, Goryeo, Ryukyu, and Siam had presented tributes at least thirty times. Assuming an annual profit of fifty to sixty thousand taels, how much wealth had been siphoned off?

The Emperor, unfamiliar with foreign affairs, and Xu Ge Lao, unaccustomed to handling envoy receptions, were oblivious to these economic realities. Yet these few sentences from the book instantly illuminated the issue, sparking intrigue.

Who doesn’t love silver?

“This entrenched malpractice has persisted for ages. The scholarly officials in the Ministry of Rites, raised on the classics, are utterly incapable of managing the extortionate habits of these so-called barbarian emissaries.

But Yan Junior is different. It’s not just about shamelessness—every member of Yan’s Dang is shameless. 

What sets Yan Donglou apart is his extraordinary talent. Among the esteemed ministers of this dynasty, each has tson expertise, yet Yan Donglou’s unparalleled skill lies in extracting wealth—fearlessly and masterfully.

When it comes to fearlessness, he’ll even fish coins from a pot of boiling oil. Forget imperial treasuries or private vaults; even the Emperor’s son, Prince Yu, must pay a bribe to receive his stipend. 

Do these foreign envoys think they can feign poverty and swindle the imperial court’s compassion? As long as Yan Donglou is in charge, such naïve dreams will shatter! Is Yan Donglou someone to trade his dignity for money? Never!

When it comes to mastery, he can wring money out of a stone. Upon taking charge of the Ministry of Works, he drafted precise budgets for nationwide projects, investigating every potential profit margin down to the last tael. 

Any discrepancies, even a few thousand taels short, would be promptly detected and punished. This is no ordinary talent; this is financial wizardry centuries ahead of its time. Finance students of future generations should worship Yan Donglou! “

Such crude language was hard to ignore. Even the Feixuan Zhenjun, hidden behind a screen, coughed lightly. Xu Ge Lao, standing outside, remained stoic, his gaze subtly shifting as he noticed Yan Ge Lao’s exaggerated bow, his rear raised high. Xu Ge Lao shivered slightly and averted his eyes.

The Emperor, known for his skepticism and meticulous scrutiny of appointments, typically interrogated such proposals thoroughly. Yan Ge Lao had prepared extensively, ready with counterarguments. Yet after the Zhenjun’s cough, silence fell, and eventually, he spoke slowly:

“What do the elder ministers think?”

No probing questions? Yan Ge Lao was taken aback.

Then, something even more unexpected happened. Xu Ge Lao, who had been silently standing like a statue, suddenly stepped forward, knelt, and offered his opinion.

“The proposal from Yan Ge Lao is excellent, and I second it.”

Amid the astonished expressions of everyone present, as if they had seen a ghost in broad daylight, Xu Ge Lao slowly rose, bowed his head, and remained silent.

…If they could truly squeeze money out of tribute missions, they wouldn’t have to rack tson brains to cut expenses, dancing on the tightrope of the Nine Clans Eliminator.

Feixuan Zhenjun also remained silent. He didn’t particularly like Yan Donglou’s arrogant and domineering personality, the kind that even dared to bully princes. 

But the revelations from the Celestial Book were too enticing to ignore. The palace needed renovations, the gold foil for ceremonial petitions must continue uninterrupted, and they had to send people everywhere to monitor reports of soldiers defecting. Which of these didn’t cost a fortune?

In any case, as far as tribute was concerned, how much the Yan Dang skimmed off didn’t matter. Throughout history, rebellions always came from farmers, never from foreign barbarians overturning the heavens. 

Besides, as long as Yan Fenyi wanted to advance further, he’d have to leave some of the profit—perhaps eight or nine tenths of a tael—to the treasury. With that amount, Feixuan could tolerate it.

With this thought, Feixuan Zhenjun let out a long sigh:”Approved.”

Seeing Yan Fenyi’s face light up with joy, Feixuan’s heart stirred slightly: if the profits from tribute were truly that immense, letting the Yan Dang monopolize them wouldn’t be ideal. They should plant someone to stir things up.

“Receiving foreign envoys is an important matter,” he said indifferently. “Let the young scions of the noble families accompany the mission to learn a thing or two. Broadening tson horizons will do them good.”

Favoring nobles was a tradition in the dynasty. Everyone kneeled and shouted “Long live,” instantly passing the Zhenjun’s resolution. Meanwhile, Mu Qi, who had been eagerly eating the metaphorical melon, was utterly dumbfounded.

…Huh?
·
As a diehard supporter among noble sons and an unshakable pillar for the old Taoist, Mu Qi’s participation in any event was inevitable as long as he hadn’t gone mad and offended the elder. 

Sure enough, his name was read out when Li Zaifang announced the list, adding yet another task to his workload.

How did simply spectating this “melon drama” end up affecting him?

The old Taoist struck the bronze bell, signaling the meeting’s end. The ministers completed tson bows and silently left. Yan Ge Lao was bewildered, unable to fathom why Xu Shaohu had suddenly supported him. 

He resolved to ponder the matter for three days and nights to uncover any hidden schemes.

Meanwhile, the cunning Xu Ge Lao floated out, clutching tightly to a book he had retrieved from the depths of his study the previous day. His mind was consumed by thoughts of otherworldly powers, reeling from the shock to his worldview. 

He paid no attention to the glances of his political rival.

…If not for a shred of remaining reason, he might have barged through the screen to kneel before His Majesty, earnestly questioning Feixuan Zhenjun:

“Your Majesty, with all this mysticism, are you truly cultivating something real?”

Could there really be such supernatural phenomena in the world?

And if Your Majesty were to attain immortality, might you not take an old servant like me along?

Xu Shaohu finally resolved to go back and meticulously review every ceremonial petition and document compiled over the decades by His Majesty, the Feixuan Zhenjun Emperor Qingmiao.

Given the current situation, perhaps the Taoist might truly achieve something extraordinary.

As for Mu Qi… he left the western courtyard in low spirits, pondering his new workload. But before he could circle the palace twice, someone intercepted him:

“Greetings, son!”

A plump man dressed in silk appeared with a cheerful grin. Bowing deeply, he greeted Mu Qi with exaggerated enthusiasm:”How have you been, son? Is the esteemed prince of Mu in good health? I’ve been busy lately and haven’t visited your residence to pay my respects—what a grave oversight!”

Startled, Mu Qi fixed his gaze on the man. Though he had always been somewhat reclusive, he could never mistake this famously plump face. 

He returned the greeting with a polite bow:”Thank you for your concern, Yan Ge Lao’s young master. All is well at home. Have you come on orders from Yan Ge Lao?”

During the exchange of pleasantries, Mu Qi subtly took a step to the side. While the rumors about Yan Donglou were likely exaggerated, his behavior left no room for complacency.

Seeing the son’s amiable attitude, Yan Donglou felt even more delighted. He had stationed himself outside the palace early during the council meeting, bribing eunuchs to deliver updates. 

Upon hearing Feixuan Zhenjun’s decree, he immediately realized the key to his plan: now that Xu Shaohu had retreated, the officials in the Ministry of Rites and the Ministry of Works wouldn’t dare sabotage the Yan Dang’s major endeavor. 

The only obstacle was the noble sons suddenly inserted into the mission by the emperor.

Among the nobles, the prince of Mu’s household held the most influence. Securing the son’s support would mean half the battle was won. 

Unbothered by pride, Yan Donglou intercepted Mu Qi in the street, offering flattery, excessive courtesy, and even holding the reins of Mu Qi’s horse in a show of extreme deference.

Once they grew more familiar, Yan Donglou cautiously broached the subject:”My dear friend, I’ve just been pondering His Majesty’s recent edict outside the palace. His call for frugality is, of course, a reflection of his noble intent. 

But transitioning from extravagance to thrift is no easy task. The lack of funds poses significant challenges. Fortunately, I know a few merchants loyal to the state, willing to share the burden…”

He rambled for half a day, but his meaning was clear: hosting foreign envoys typically costs at least 20,000 to 30,000 taels of silver. Under the late emperor’s regulations, however, the budget couldn’t exceed 500 taels—a gap so vast even deities couldn’t bridge it. And no official would dare to pay out of pocket.

But Yan Donglou, with his creative genius, had enlisted wealthy merchants he knew from his time in the Ministry of Works. These merchants would sponsor the event, providing goods and labor in exchange for exposure.

The logic was intricate, but Mu Qi immediately understood—this was essentially a state-sponsored sponsorship deal.

The opportunity to showcase tson brands during a national event hosting foreign envoys was an unparalleled marketing boon. Any merchant with a shred of business acumen would jump at the chance. Yan Donglou’s knack for making money was indeed unparalleled, his foresight five centuries ahead of its time.

Naturally, to the gentlemen of the Ministry of Rites, this was crass and offensive—a desecration of decorum and unworthy of a true gentleman. But was Mu Qi the type to choose face over fortune? He promptly expressed his stance:

“The Xiao Ge is exceptionally intelligent; I am far inferior. Such a brilliant plan, I wholeheartedly support it!”  

Yan Donglou was overjoyed and entirely unprepared for how easily the persuasion succeeded, feeling a deep sense of camaraderie. He thought to himself that the Beijing’s description of the son of prince Mu as “unreasonable” was clearly baseless hearsay. Overcome with delight, he decided to confide in this like-minded ally:  

“The son praises me too highly; I dare not accept such compliments. However, matters like this are not without difficulties. I do have some troubles and must seek the son’s guidance.”  

“Pray, speak freely.”  

Yan Donglou sighed. “Truly, it is better to have no ruler among the civilized than a ruler among the barbaric! Those foreign savages fail to understand the court’s hardships; each one is more difficult and eccentric than the last. 

Although we’ve made every arrangement for them, after settling in at the courier station, they caused an uproar upon finding that the attendants had been replaced. They insist on bringing the old ones back. Among them, a few of those Japanese are the most vocal, making a particularly unreasonable racket!”  

Mu Qi uttered a sound of understanding and immediately grasped the situation. He might not fully understand the finer points of diplomacy, but he was all too familiar with the behavior of the vassal states. 

The so-called “follow the customs of the host” clearly didn’t apply here. Why should foreign emissaries be so particular about the station’s attendants? It was merely because these envoys, having traveled back and forth so frequently, had spent lavishly to plant tson trusted informants among the attendants and couldn’t tolerate tson positions being disrupted.  

This longstanding practice was deeply ingrained, and the Ministry of Rites had always been indulgent. 

Such complacency might be fine during times of peace, but if the empire were ever to face calamity, these spies would undoubtedly become a significant threat. The future disasters caused by the Japanese pirates and the devastation along the coastal regions could very well stem from this!  

This realization left him with no choice but to fully and firmly support the Xiao Ge!