The brother and sister arrived at the gate of the Cheng family’s small courtyard.

Li Muyun looked shocked. “I knew the Cheng family was poor, but I didn’t think they were this poor… Wait, if Cheng Changyan is this broke, where did he get the money to lend you? Don’t tell me it was from embezzlement?”

“So it seems, even the Young Master Li knows corruption has become a chronic disease in Great Wei.” Cheng Changyan stepped out from the courtyard, his tone calm. “But the Emperor and the court avoid talking about it, refusing to treat the disease. It would be best if the Young Master refrained from bringing it up in public.”

Li Muyun already had a bone to pick with Cheng Changyan due to his previous comments about “hidden illnesses.” He snorted, “So you think you know everything!”

He pulled a small box from his sleeve and handed it over. “This is the money you lent to Yue Niang. Here, we’re even.”

Cheng Changyan took it.

He didn’t intend to open it, but the weight in his hand felt off.

Opening the lid, he froze. “What’s this?”

“With interest,” Li Zhiyue said with a smile. “I used the money you gave me to buy silk and made a good profit. Naturally, I should share the earnings. Changyan, don’t refuse—it’s for Wan Feng’s sake. She’s about the same age as me, and it’s time to start preparing her dowry.”

Li Muyun looked incredulous. “Changyan? Wait, Yue Niang, how can you just call him Changyan?”

“Big brother, you’re so old-fashioned,” Li Zhiyue shrugged. “A name is just a label. Call him whatever. You could call him Changyan too.”

Cheng Changyan played along, “Brother Muyun.”

Li Muyun: “…”

Who wants to act all brotherly with the future top scholar?

It’ll just make him look like a fool!

Cheng Changyan said, “I’ve made some tea inside. Please, come in.”

Li Zhiyue walked in first.

Li Muyun, reluctantly, followed.

The tea was coarse, but somehow, it had a unique flavor.

Li Zhiyue steered the conversation to serious matters. “Changyan, do you think if the refugees up north can’t be settled, they’ll become roving bands?”

“If a large number of people are left homeless, that’s inevitable—how many or how few is the only question.” Cheng Changyan looked at Li Muyun. “Brother Muyun, if refugees do appear, what should the court do?”

Li Muyun answered casually, “Appease them, mainly. But if they don’t listen, then use force to suppress them.”

“What does ‘appease’ mean?” Cheng Changyan asked. “Give them money directly? Houses? Farmland?”

Li Muyun frowned.

He’d read a lot of books, but none of them ever covered things in such detail.

Impatiently, he said, “I came out for some relaxation—why talk about boring stuff like this?”

“I think it’s very interesting,” said Li Zhiyue, sipping her tea. “If refugees gather, there will definitely be unrest. First, they can’t be allowed to cluster in one place. Second, as my brother said, we have to pacify them. How? Fill their stomachs. But the court’s silver doesn’t grow on trees—they can’t feed them forever. So then what?”

Cheng Changyan nodded. “Indeed, that’s a difficult problem.”

Li Muyun, drawn in by the two, began to think deeply too.

Li Zhiyue added deliberately, “Even if we can’t afford it, we have to do it. If there’s no silver, then make the rich officials donate. It’s not a big deal.”

“Yueniang, you think everyone’s as generous as you?” Li Muyun cut in. “Our family donated a hundred thousand taels. The other nobles barely gave a thousand. They all acted like they were being skinned alive. Donations aren’t a long-term solution. I think we should have the refugees work. If they’re willing to work, give them a full meal. As for the lazy ones, let them starve!”

“That’s called ‘relief through labor,’” Cheng Changyan smiled. “It’s a method once proposed by a great Confucian scholar in history. I didn’t expect Brother Muyun to be so well-read.”

Li Muyun was startled.

He hadn’t even finished reading the Four Books and Five Classics—who had time for historical Confucians?

He’d just blurted that out.

But to think his casual remark actually matched the ideas of a historical scholar?

Did this mean he had the potential to become a great thinker himself?

He beamed. “Brother Cheng, you just said this was relief through labor, right? Let me explain in detail—our court already has corvée labor every year: building walls, digging moats, canal work. These are tough jobs. If we have the refugees do them, not only do they get food, but they’re also supervised. Isn’t that perfect?”

Cheng Changyan’s eyes lit up. “Excellent idea, Brother Muyun!”

Li Zhiyue lowered her head, hiding her smile.

With Cheng Changyan’s intentional guidance and encouragement, Li Muyun started passionately expounding on all kinds of ideas.

At first, he called him “Lord Cheng,” then “Brother Cheng,” and finally, affectionately, “Brother Changyan.”

When it was time to leave, he was actually a little reluctant.

In the carriage, Li Muyun couldn’t help saying, “No wonder His Majesty likes Brother Changyan—he really has ability.”

Li Zhiyue said, “He is, after all, a top scholar from a humble background. Of course he has substance.”

The next day was the Yin’en Imperial Examination.

Because the regular exam questions had been leaked, the previous results were voided, and the palace exam was canceled.

Now, the sons of all the noble families were gearing up to show their worth in this one-hour exam, hoping for a good post.

The exam only lasted one hour.

Families sent their children to the palace and waited right at the gate, pacing anxiously, nerves taut.

Marquis Xuanping smiled. “I’ve already arranged everything. My son will go directly into the Jinyiwei—quite a fine place.”

The Jinyiwei, the Embroidered Guard, was a powerful agency outside the six ministries, answering only to the Emperor. Requirements for entry weren’t strict—an ideal spot for spoiled young nobles.

Another noble said, “My son will go to the Commandant’s Office.”

The capital’s commandant post also had low requirements. Most nobles in the city ended up there.

Marquis Xuanping asked with mock sincerity, “What about the heir to the Marquis of Xiangyang? Has he arranged anything?”

Li Suiwen’s face froze in embarrassment.

The Li family had only one heir per generation for eight generations—no extended branches, no powerful in-laws.

Where would they get the connections to pull strings?

“So, no arrangements then?” Marquis Xuanping feigned concern. “Shall I lend a hand?”

Li Suiwen forced a smile. “Whatever post he gets will depend on his own ability. Our Li family doesn’t go in for backdoor dealings.”

That one sentence instantly offended everyone present.

“Backdoor dealings”? No—this was called using connections wisely!

“No connections, so he’s just being righteous, huh?”

“Looks like the heir to the Li family will be sent out to some backwater county as a magistrate. Still, a seventh-rank official—could be worse.”

“Seventh-rank magistrate—hahaha!”

The nobles burst out laughing.

The Li family had made headlines recently by donating one hundred thousand taels, stealing the spotlight from everyone else.

The other nobles were already unhappy—now they seized the chance to mock them.

Everyone knew a seventh-rank official in the provinces was nothing compared to a seventh-rank post in the capital.

And promotions were much harder to come by. Most nobles assigned to such roles resigned within months.

Li Suiwen’s face darkened.

He was now a fourth-rank official—even if he just managed the imperial stables(horse)—but still a fourth-rank!

Why did he still feel like he was at the bottom of this group?

Just then, the palace gates opened, and the nobles’ sons began to file out one by one.