Chapter 103: Let Them Fight

Chapter 103 Let Them Fight

Chengdu Prefecture, Chengdu County, Xinzhen District.

This administrative district possessed neither the opulent splendor of Qingyang District, where "the watchman's rattle sounds and ten thousand taels of gold flow," nor the open magnanimity of Shenghua District, where "ten thousand states come to court, exchanging goods."

Yet the common folk living in this administrative district naturally bore a haughty, overbearing air.

No other reason: the Chengdu County Yamen, the only one in the entire empire capable of governing thirteen administrative districts at a mere county level, sat right here.

Such a special administrative status led many ordinary citizens to mistakenly believe Chengdu County was Chengdu Prefecture.

As a great county occupying the core region of the Land of Abundance, Chengdu County's yamen was simple to the point of shabbiness, even paling in comparison to the Mianzhou County Yamen.

Within the entire yamen, there were no corridors or pillars carved with dragons and phoenixes, nor any secluded, elegant gardens with ponds and rocks.

The only item worthy of being called precious was a plaque hanging above the main gate lintel, personally inscribed by the Late Emperor, the Longwu Emperor: "Government Smooth, People Harmonious."

At this moment, deep within the yamen, only a single shabby study leaked faint points of firelight.

Fierce wind and rain lashed the study's doors and windows; occasionally, a few gusts of urgent wind slipped through cracks in the walls, excitedly stirring the steam rising above the copper pot.

"Eat pickled vegetables and rolled tofu, the Emperor and Chancellor, my lords, cannot compare to me."

Amidst the teasing melody, a pair of chopsticks marked with bamboo-node scars dipped into the milky broth, gently lifting a block of tofu boiled until meltingly soft, giving it a light coat in the sauce dish.

"Leaving a clear name in the mortal world."

The gray-templed old man swallowed the mouthful of refreshing sweetness, savoring the delicate texture on his lips and teeth, shaking his head in blissful intoxication.

Just then, a middle-aged scholar sporting a fine beard tiptoed in, performing the disciple's salute of the Confucian school to the old man enjoying his pickled vegetable and tofu stew.

"My Lord, it has been ascertained. The ones who blew up the Shudao Logistics were the Chuan-Yu Gambling Guild from Chongqing Prefecture; the leader is named Gong Qinghong, code-named 'Four Stripes.' Allowing these desperadoes to cross the border this time was this subordinate's dereliction of duty; please punish me, My Lord."

The old man treated his words as if unheard, continuing to leisurely enjoy the delicacies in the pot.

Only when the bamboo chopsticks could fish out no more tofu from the pot did the old man set them down, casually grabbing a corner of the robe tucked beneath his bottom to wipe his mouth.

Witnessing this, the middle-aged scholar's taut lips couldn't help but twitch slightly.

The official robe symbolizing the entire Chengdu County's administrative authority was actually used as a napkin!

If this got out, this County Magistrate would likely be drowned in the saliva of those Legalist Censors.

The middle-aged scholar hesitated for a moment, then probed, "My Lord, should we do something? After all, the Wu Clan has gone a bit too far this time."

The old man picked up the tea for cutting grease, took a sip, swished it left and right in his mouth a few times before swallowing, and asked lazily, "How?"

The middle-aged scholar's fine beard trembled; he fell silent.

"Right now the Gu Clan is on the hot seat, finding fault with everyone. If you send your Tianfu Garrison Guards to help Shudao Logistics now, wouldn't that be asking for trouble? The Gu Clan people would probably think you're mocking them for being unable to guard their own family business."

The old man's words carried a smile, clearly mocking the Gu Clan.

"This time the court gave only one recommendation quota for the entire Chengdu Prefecture. These years, the elders of the Gu and Wu clans have died off or retired. They can barely hold onto their Third-Rank Aristocratic Family status; if they don't fight tooth and nail now, when will they? Understandable, right, Yaozong?"

"My Lord is correct."

Huang Yaozong, who commanded the entire Chengdu County garrison force and served as County Lieutenant and Garrison Bureau Chief, replied repeatedly: "However, the Wu Clan has truly gone too far this time. It's a Confucian matter, yet they spent money hiring these bandits to act; it is truly a loss of decorum."

The old man teased, "I see you're still angry about the Wu Clan bribing that Patrol Inspector Luo Zhen under your command?"

"Luo Zhen was corrupt; he deserved death. I worry that the two clans will use this chance to tear off all pretense of cordiality and exterminate each other."

Huang Yaozong spoke with concern, "After all, both clans still have elders serving in the accompanying capital, Jinling. If things blow up, I fear they will hold you accountable, My Lord."

"Hold me accountable? Those few undying parasites—are they even worthy?"

The old man snorted disdainfully, and from his withered frame, too frail to even prop up his official robe, a sudden, awe-inspiring domineering aura burst forth.

Huang Yaozong's gaze went blank; he abruptly remembered that this My Lord was no ordinary character.

To be appointed Magistrate of Chengdu County, a post dripping with oil, in the Year of Dayan—his backing was likely harder than the Gu and Wu clans combined.

A pity this County Magistrate of mine usually keeps a low profile; only upon taking office did he use thunderous means to suppress all dissent, designating Shenghua District as the first treaty port in Shu, achieving an economic doubling in three years.

The rest of the time he just likes staying in this crude study researching food and drink, utterly indifferent to governance.

Otherwise, with such a lazy superior, I, this County Lieutenant, wouldn't have to endure so much grievance daily.

Just as Huang Yaozong's thoughts fluttered, the old man's voice rang by his ear.

"Let them make a fuss. Even the Prefect's Yamen hasn't stirred; why should we rush? Besides, if this time Gu Yong or Wu Gong has the ability to clean up the other, this old man doesn't mind personally recommending him, even yielding this Magistrate's seat to him."

Hearing the old man's heroic words, Huang Yaozong thought to himself, who doesn't know the Prefect has been studying at the Donglin Academy for years? How could the Prefect's Yamen possibly have anyone intervene in aristocratic clan affairs?

But he still agreed verbally: "My Lord is right. The losses caused by the two clans fighting..."

"Record every single penny. Send the bill directly to their clan heads in Jinling. If anyone refuses to pay, I'll immediately go to the Donglin Academy to find the Prefect and strip them of their aristocratic titles!"

"Understood. This subordinate will go handle it."

Huang Yaozong bowed and withdrew, but as he reached the study door, he heard the old man call out, "My tofu's gone. Bring me another plate."

The middle-aged scholar picked his teeth in acknowledgement, closed the door, and left.

Human voices fell silent; the rain persisted.

The old man lay on that armchair, worn smooth and shiny at the edges and corners, staring at the broth still churning in the copper pot, lost in thought for a long time.

Suddenly, the old man frowned, raised a hand to slap his own neck, face full of anger, muttering to himself.

"Now the Legalists' and Vertical-Horizontalists' knives are practically at our own throats, those Yin-Yang charlatans are hiding in corners eager to move, and every damn one of them is still playing this infighting game!"

"The Directorate of Rites has only been gone a few years, and they've already forgotten the pain once the scar healed?!"

The old man now had zero appetite; he rose abruptly, flicked his sleeve, and cursed: "Wait until the damn table is flipped, and everyone will just hold their chopsticks and squat begging for rice! A sea of bookish air, all nothing but withered wood and dead ashes. Pah, damn your mother's scholar's integrity!"