RONG QING'S GOAL on this trip had evolved from merely investigating a case to preserving his own life.
If he'd previously thought Yang Yun lacked the courage to kill an envoy of the court, he no longer doubted his ruthlessness. The county magistrate Huang Lüe was dead, and this was Yang Yun's territory. Li Yan, Wu Yi, and the others all obeyed Yang Yun. In truth, it would be all too easy to have Rong Qing quietly killed.
Perhaps he had been washed away by the flood, or fought with Huang Lüe over an unequal division of profits. Yang Yun would have no trouble concocting a perfectly plausible cause of death after ridding himself of Rong Qing. As a relative of the emperor, he enjoyed a level of deference from the royal couple. Even if they enlisted another censor to continue the investigation, the newcomer might lack the resolve to pursue the truth. This would create only more opportunities for Yang Yun to manipulate the situation.
Cui Buqu was thus the most significant variable—only if Cui Buqu was safe would his own safety be guaranteed.
They sat in the relay station, Rong Qing still in shock. Cui Buqu seemed to sense his thoughts and mercilessly splashed another pail of cold water over him.
"I almost lost two of my men already. You saw it too: They won't scruple to kill even me. If we discover nothing more in these two and a half days—if I can't offer an explanation to His Majesty—Yang Yun will make an example of you." Cui Buqu spoke his next words with deliberate emphasis. "Whatever you're imagining, they're capable of that and more."
Rong Qing felt a chill go through him. "How could they be so audacious?! All this, just to embezzle some grain?"
Feng Xiao laughed. "Isn't that like telling someone they should eat meat porridge when there's no rice? Granaries are the backbone of a nation. Rice is more valuable than gold during a famine—and even gold can't buy you food if there's none to be had. But once this flood recedes, the grain can be stored, and it'll last at least a decade. They can trade it for even more valuable things."
Rong Qing had also realized he'd said something foolish. His face was hot as he asked, "What things?"
"Salt. Iron," said Cui Buqu.
"Does Yang Yun mean to rebel?!" blurted Rong Qing.
When he'd first arrived, Rong Qing had only known this was a serious disaster, and worried that the local officials might be negligent in their duties. He'd planned to supervise them closely, keenly watching their every move. Later, he'd begun to realize things were far more complicated than he'd thought. Officials of all ranks were colluding to embezzle grain, but he never guessed they would be so insane as to rebel against the emperor. The situation had escalated far beyond anything he'd imagined.
"Maybe not rebel," amended Cui Buqu. "But they certainly can't escape the charge of corruption." He glanced at Feng Xiao. "I have a question for the Deputy Chief: What are you doing here?"
Feng Xiao sighed. "Oh, little Cui-langjun. We're old friends reuniting in a strange land. Must you take such a tone?"
Cui Buqu smiled faintly. "Very well, old friend. If you don't wish to say it now, you can keep it to yourself forever. Don't bother telling me. After all, it's not my life that's in danger. Worst case, when the Zuoyue guard arrives, I'll simply dust off my hands and walk away. Poor Censor Rong will have to shoulder all the blame himself. Perhaps he'll lose his own insignificant life…"
Shaking all over, Rong Qing looked toward Feng Xiao. His flat, square face was wrenched into a pitiful, aggrieved expression, like a small animal frightened for its life.
Unfortunately for him, Feng Xiao had killed even the lovely Feng Xiaolian without a second thought. He didn't feel the slightest bit of sympathy for a grown man like Rong Qing. Rather, his eyes had been fixed on Cui Buqu the entire time—especially on his arm where it had been sliced by the strings. He had yet to change his clothes, and the raw welts were still exposed. Feng Xiao's gaze lingered there almost indecently, so intense it seemed to burn into Cui Buqu's skin.
Cui Buqu's expression darkened.
In principle, Feng Xiao reflected, it was like teasing a cat or a fox. The animal would jump about at first, eyes on the reed in your hand, and it made for good entertainment. But when the fox got frustrated and tried to claw at you, it was time to stop. A few scratches were a small matter, but it would be a great loss if the animal developed a grudge.
Feng Xiao quickly schooled his face to seriousness. "I received an anonymous letter."
He produced the missive and put it on the table. Cui Buqu picked it up and unfolded it. Only two lines were written on the paper:
On the highlands, I feel right at home.
The treasured jade my lord covets so.
The first line came from a historical record from the Han dynasty entitled Shiji. "Home" referred to Fangling Province, modern-day Guangqian County. Rong Qing didn't understand the significance of the second line, but Cui Buqu and Feng Xiao both saw at once that it was about the Jade of Heaven Lake.
"Is this that old man's handwriting?" Feng Xiao asked.
Of course he meant Fan Yun.
"He knows many kinds of calligraphy—regular, cursive, and seal script—so I couldn't say. But this person must know the whereabouts of the Jade of Heaven Lake. If it's not Fan Yun, it's a member of the Thirteen Floors."
Feng Xiao shrugged. "Wouldn't it be stranger if I didn't come?"
Cui Buqu arched a brow. "Li Shisi?"
"I just happened to find out that the Li family has an incompetent son named Li Shisi," Feng Xiao said with a smile. "They had enough of him fooling around in his hometown, so they sent him to the city to put him to work. I intercepted him while he was en route and used the technique Changing the Skies, Substituting the Sun to steal his face, assuming his identity. Honestly, he should be grateful. How else could he manage to get into the eldest son's good graces in a few days, and even be taken under his wing?"
Feng Xiao hadn't yet been included in the core affairs of the Li family, but he was adept at navigating social situations and extracting information through indirect means. In a short time, he'd amassed quite a bit that was useful—such as the strange happenings at Qixia Villa. Li Shisi's identity, when used well, was an excellent tool. Unfortunately, now that he'd been exposed, he had no choice but to emerge from the dark to work out in the open.
Feng Xiao looked at Cui Buqu, his meaning plain: Your turn.
"Half a month ago," Cui Buqu began slowly, "when you gave me that list of names, several people on it caught my eye. One of them was Yang Yun. I thought there was something odd about him, so I looked into his political achievements in Guangqian Commandery over the past few years. That was when I discovered something odder still."
Cui Buqu wasn't one to overreact. If he said he found something strange, it must have been truly alarming.
Feng Xiao reclined on his side with his chin propped in one hand, the picture of indolence as he awaited Cui Buqu's next words. But Cui Buqu didn't look at him—his gaze instead landed on Rong Qing. At the censor's blank expression, Cui Buqu had to resist the urge to smack him. He turned his gaze back to Feng Xiao.
He ignored Feng Xiao's sputtered laugh and said, "Guangqian has been plagued with disaster since ancient times. Since the first year of the Kaihuang era, Yang Yun used the floods and poor harvests as an excuse to suggest a policy of waiving taxes for those who contribute grain to the commandery's stores. In effect, the prominent families donate food to their own people during lean times, and in exchange, they're exempted from taxes the following year. In this way, the commandery supports itself with no need for government aid."
"Ah," murmured Rong Qing. He did recall hearing about this some years ago. At that time, the emperor had been pleased and praised Yang Yun for his ingenuity. Not only did his plan relieve the imperial court's burden with regard to distributing foodstuffs, it even saved the court money. This approach was completely different from the rest of the commanderies and counties. Of course, the emperor's commendation was also likely a way for him to remind the court that his family, too, had promising descendants. Rong Qing recalled that the emperor had wanted to promote Yang Yun, but his relation had declined, protesting that promotion had to follow regulations, and that he didn't want preferential treatment. The emperor hadn't been displeased at being rebuffed—instead, his appreciation for Yang Yun grew.
Even without the promotion, Yang Yun would likely rise steadily in the ranks over the next few years. He'd enter the central government and have much greater power within his grasp.
"However"—Cui Buqu's voice broke through Rong Qing's churning thoughts—"when I sent people to investigate Guangqian County, they found that though there was plenty of rain in the last two years, it never caused floods on this scale. Which is to say, there was no need for the families of the county to donate any grain."
Cui Buqu spoke his next words carefully: "Yang Yun set up a donation policy for tax exemption. But even if the grain was donated, it wasn't needed by the locals—so where did the surplus grain go? After the flood this year, the imperial court disbursed grain to Guangqian, but Huang Lüe said it wasn't enough. If the court's contributions are insufficient, why not use the grain they've hoarded for the past two years?"
"In other words," Rong Qing murmured, "Yang Yun has been deceiving the court for two years, and all the surplus grain went into his own pocket?"
"Perhaps," Cui Buqu said. "Or perhaps not. Whatever the truth of the matter is, Huang Lüe must have had inside knowledge of this scheme, or even been one of the participants. Otherwise, there'd be no reason to kill him. But Huang Lüe alone isn't capable of running such a huge operation for Yang Yun. Li Yan and Wu Yi are almost certainly involved as well."
"That's right," said Feng Xiao. "And the Li and the Ding families must have benefited from this tax exemption policy, so they were in on it too."
Rong Qing sprang up, agitated. "Then we should target Li Yan and Wu Yi; find an opening there. And there's Qixia Villa—if they're storing that much rice there, it'll take some time to move it all. We can take people there now and surround the place. It's not too late!"
Feng Xiao shook his head. "It is too late."
Before Rong Qing could ask what he meant, Xiao-Liu, who was supposed to be outside gathering news, burst in drenched in sweat. "My lord, there's a fire north of the city. Everyone's talking about it!"
Rong Qing's heart stuttered in his chest. He couldn't help but glance at Feng Xiao and the others. "North of the city where?"
Xiao-Liu gesticulated wildly. "They said halfway up the mountain. If I had to guess, it must be around Qixia Villa. The fire is huge! You can see the smoke from inside the city. It's still raining elsewhere, yet this place caught fire. Misfortune truly never comes alone!"
Forgetting everything else, Rong Qing ran outside the relay station. He didn't need anyone to guide him—he could see the black smoke rising in the north. A single glance told him the size of the conflagration. Even if the villa's residents were working to put out the fire, it'd be impossible to extinguish quickly. But they wouldn't be trying to put it out. They'd rather let the fire rage until it consumed everything in the villa.
All that rice…
When Rong Qing thought how many refugees the rice could have saved, his heart ached. There would be nothing left in Qixia Villa, an important lead snuffed out.
Two days were left. Yang Yun had ruled uncontested here for many years. What could they do in a mere two days? Rong Qing had never been at such a loss.
That evening, the group met once more, and everyone split up to work on their own tasks.
Guan Shanhai and Qiao Xian stayed in the relay station to recover from their injuries. Feng Xiao discarded his disguise as Li Shisi and left to look for Huang Lüe's relatives, though this was likely to be of little help. There was no guarantee Huang Lüe had left any other clues before his death. Cui Buqu departed to investigate Li Yan and Wu Yi, two key figures in the matter of the grain embezzlement. They too had relatives and connections within the county. For instance, Cui Buqu had learned that Li Yan was keeping a mistress outside his household without telling his tigress of a wife. Perhaps this was a new lead they could follow.
As for Rong Qing, he was writing a memorial to the emperor.
Although the facts of the case were far from clear, he didn't know where he'd be in two days. To prevent Yang Yun from burying everything, a memorial delineating their findings and asking for the emperor's intervention was vital.
Rong Qing sat in the courtyard in a daze. One thought loomed large in his mind: However powerful the enemy might be, they couldn't hide all the grain. Qixia Villa had burned, but traces must remain elsewhere. And then there was the matter of the refugees. Guangqian County was the seat of government in Guangqian Commandery. The victims who'd camped outside the city were desperate and must have come to plead for help. Yang Yun and his faction couldn't have silenced everyone; there had to be survivors. But where were they?
If they could find even one or two, they'd have living witnesses.
Xiao-Liu came over carrying a pot of stew. "Your lordship has hardly eaten or slept the past few days. I can see you've grown thinner. I borrowed the kitchen here and cooked some pigeon soup for you. Drink it while it's hot!" he said.
The aroma of warm soup pulled Rong Qing out of his abstraction. His spirits lifted a little, and he said with a smile, "Well, I haven't tasted your cooking since we left the capital. How could I refuse?"
He lifted the lid and inhaled deeply.
"What's that smell?"
It was Cui Buqu, who'd walked in through the open gates. Rong Qing was too embarrassed to drink the whole bowl in front of him, so he held out the pot. "Pigeon soup. Would you like a sip, Cui-xiansheng?"
Cui Buqu glanced at it and said unceremoniously, "All right." He took the pot with both hands and lowered his head to drink.
Cold steel flashed behind him—a dagger glinted in Xiao-Liu's hand as he soundlessly swung it down on Cui Buqu's back.