Chapter 8: Chapter 8. To enjoy life, one must be young.

Chapter 8.

In a past life, Yin Chengyu had asked the same question.

Back then, it was during the bloodiest days of the battle for the throne.

Emperor Longfeng had deliberately loosened the reins, letting the court scramble to pick sides. The second and third princes fought tooth and nail for their last shot at power. As the Crown Prince and the eye of the storm, assassination attempts came with the territory.

From the moment he returned from the royal tombs, reclaimed his place in court, and consolidated his power, he’d had to deal with killers lurking in the shadows.

But that time was particularly nasty. Poison left him blind, and he narrowly escaped death when Xue Shu dragged him off a cliff to avoid their pursuers. They holed up in a cramped mountain cave for two weeks before the imperial guards tracked them down and pulled them out of danger.

After they made it back to the palace, Yin Chengyu had asked Xue Shu why he’d gone to such lengths.

Xue Shu had stared at him for a long time, his fingers brushing lightly, almost insolently, over Yin Chengyu’s lips as he answered, “No one else looks half as good as you, Your Highness.”

At the time, Yin Chengyu had felt humiliated. He never asked that kind of question again.

Their relationship was born out of a mutual exchange of interests, tangled up in desire, with perhaps a handful of other things buried deep in the mix. But Yin Chengyu never bothered to dig deeper. Things were fine as they were. This way, if swords ever crossed in the future, he wouldn’t hesitate.

Shaking off the memories, Yin Chengyu fixed his gaze on the young man standing before him—Xue Shu, still inexperienced, his thoughts plain as day. Youth was a fine thing, Yin Chengyu thought.

At this age, Xue Shu didn’t have the sharp tongue to say infuriating things. Instead, he eagerly stuck close, trying to win favor.

So obedient.

In the end, Yin Chengyu accepted the box of gold, silver, and jade Xue Shu had brought him.

He tossed a token of the Eastern Palace to his steward, Zheng Duobao, and told Xue Shu with a casual wave, “The token’s yours now. Don’t forget whose man you are.”

Xue Shu took the token, a rare flicker of joy breaking through his usual calm.

He recognized it instantly. Zheng Duobao and Zhao Lin wore similar ones on their belts, marking them as the Crown Prince’s people.

“Thank you for the favor, Your Highness.” He carefully tucked the token into his sleeve.

“Anything else? No? Then get out.” Yin Chengyu dismissed him with a wave, rising to head toward the main hall. At the doorway, he glanced back and added, “If you’re running errands for the Emperor, be discreet when you come here. Don’t let anyone see.”

Xue Shu watched Yin Chengyu walk away before slipping out quietly, this time avoiding the main gates. Like a night owl, he flitted through a side door and disappeared, heading toward the Western Bureau.

Back in the main hall, Yin Chengyu remembered the box of treasures and gave Zheng Duobao instructions: “Clear a separate room in the storeroom. Put that box there, and do the same for anything else he brings in the future.”

Zheng Duobao acknowledged the order and only after helping Yin Chengyu settle in for the night did he get a few eunuchs to move the box into the storeroom.

As the items were registered, Zheng Duobao nodded in satisfaction.

It seemed he’d misjudged Xue Shu earlier. The man knew how to repay a favor—he might be useful after all.

*

After the Lantern Festival, the New Year was officially over.

The festive cheer lingering in Wangjing City hadn’t even faded when disaster struck—the Yu family manor in the Nanzuo Alley got hit by thieves.

And these weren’t your average burglars. They pulled off a heist so brazen it turned heads. Not only did they snatch priceless works of art from Chancellor Yu’s private collection, but they also cleared out the rare treasures in both the elder and younger masters’ studies.

Letters, personal seals—every scrap of correspondence tied to the family’s dealings in recent years? Gone.

The Yu family wasted no time reporting the crime.

The old Chancellor Yu, advanced in age and burdened by the news, fell sick from sheer rage. For days, he was bedridden, unable to attend court or manage affairs of state.

As for his second son, Yu Jing? That man was a hothead to the core.

Watching his father suffer while the thieves remained at large was like tossing fuel on his fiery temper. Every day, he marched down to the Shuntian Prefecture’s magistrate office to demand answers.

Officially, he held some cushy sinecure at the Military Governor’s Office, but he couldn’t care less about duty. Instead, he strapped on his saber and planted himself in the magistrate’s main hall, claiming he was “supervising” the investigation.

The prefectural magistrate, on the brink of tearing his hair out, had no choice but to mobilize more officers to track the culprits.

Naturally, such a spectacle became the talk of the town. Wangjing’s common folk made sport of the affair, and some bold ones even teased Yu Jing whenever they saw him headed for the magistrate’s office.

“Well, Second Master Yu,” they’d grin, “caught those thieves yet?”

Yu Jing’s sour reply was always the same: “Not yet.”

Amid this backdrop of simmering tension and quiet amusement, the Imperial Salt Inspectors, bearing the emperor’s decree, silently departed Wangjing to conduct audits at the regional salt administration offices.

As soon as Fang Zhengke, the inspector en route to the Changlu Salt Office, left Wangjing, Yin Chengyu got word.

“Are all the arrangements in place?” Yin Chengyu asked.

Zhao Lin nodded. “Everything’s ready. Even the orphan from the Zhao family has agreed to help us.”

Yin Chengyu nodded back, running through the plan in his mind, checking for loose ends.

Not long ago, he had conducted a covert investigation at the Yu family mansion, spilling the beans about the salt trade scandal to his grandfather and uncles. What he hadn’t expected was a revelation from his eldest uncle, Yu Shen: Wan Youliang—the man at the center of it all—had hinted at the immense profits of salt permits two years prior.

At the time, Yu Shen had brushed it off, warning Wan Youliang against crossing the line. Smuggling salt or falsifying permits was a capital offense, after all, and no amount of profit was worth losing one’s head. Wan Youliang had played the loyal subordinate, dismissing the matter as mere idle chatter among friends. The topic had faded from memory as no further issues arose in official correspondence or court discussions.

But now, with hindsight sharpened by discovery, it was clear Wan Youliang’s ambition had long taken root.

Yin Chengyu’s findings pointed to the Zhao family’s extermination as more than random tragedy. The Zhaos, originally prosperous grain and wine merchants in Tianjin, had secretly trafficked salt under the guise of their legitimate trade.

Their benefactor? None other than Wan Youliang, the current Transport Commissioner.

Tianjin’s geography made it the perfect hub—nine rivers converged, transportation flourished, and Changlu Salt Field’s production was massive. The temptation of wealth was irresistible. By falsifying permits, Wan Youliang siphoned off official salt to the south, where it fetched sky-high prices.

This wasn’t just a one-man operation, either. From clerks issuing forged permits to merchants running the illicit goods, everyone involved had greased the right palms. Corruption ran deep, and the Zhao family, once upstanding traders, had been lured into the scheme through their daughter’s marriage to a profiteering landlord in Hejian Prefecture.

The landlord’s wealth? Built on smuggling salt supplied by Wan Youliang.

Wan Youliang had fabricated Ministry of Revenue documents, over-issuing 300,000 salt permits under the guise of “preallocations” for future years. Officially taxed at one tael per permit, these bogus permits carried additional fees and interest, wringing three taels per permit from merchants desperate for a cut of the trade.

For Wan Youliang, it wasn’t just corruption; it was an empire of deceit, all built on salt.

All the salt taxes collected from salt merchants were handed over to the Ministry of Revenue, and Yu Huai’an happened to be its minister. As he dug through the records from past years, it became glaringly obvious: not only were the silver sums submitted by the Changlu Salt Commission mismatched, but official ministry-approved salt permits were entirely missing.

Wan Youliang had been playing the system, lining his pockets with the missing sums.

The Zhao family? Just a cog in the wheel.

Their head, ever cautious, knew smuggling illicit salt was a crime punishable by death. After making enough silver, he washed his hands clean, packed up, and moved his family to Wangjing.

What the Zhaos didn’t know was that Wan Youliang had already cozied up to the Third Prince, Yin Chengjing. Wan Youliang feared the Zhaos might let something slip in Wangjing, and his anxiety drove him straight to Yin Chengjing’s door.

Conveniently, a crafty fraudster—Daoist Wangchen—had been helping Wan Youliang forge official seals and documents. This gave Yin Chengjing the perfect excuse to hatch his scheme.

First, the Zhao family was wiped out, rumors of demonic foxes spread far and wide. Then, Daoist Wangchen’s reputation was carefully inflated in the capital. Finally, Yin Chengjing orchestrated a staged fox attack within the imperial palace itself, making it all too easy to shove Daoist Wangchen into Emperor Longfeng’s line of sight.

Of course, Yin Chengjing had been harboring a grudge against Wan Youliang for his insatiable greed. And with the principled Fang Zhengke now assigned to inspect the salt tax system, Wan Youliang’s shady dealings were impossible to cover up. So, Yin Chengjing decided to sacrifice Wan Youliang —have him accuse Yu Shen of collusion.

A clean move: one strike to eliminate Wan Youliang, drag the Yu family into the mess, and further his own ambitions.

In the last life, Yin Chengjing’s plan was flawless—a masterstroke of cunning and precision.

But heaven has eyes, and Yin Chengyu has been granted another chance to rewrite the script.

This time, things won’t go so smoothly.

Fang Zhengke is already en route to the Changlu Salt Commission, and his men have tracked down the lone Zhao family survivor. They’re persuading the survivor to present evidence and intercept Fang Zhengke on the way with an official accusation.

Two months ahead of schedule, the matter is already coming to light. Daoist Wangchen has been executed. And who knows if Wan Youliang has even prepped his so-called "evidence."

Yin Chengyu tapped his knuckles against the desk and ordered, “Double the eyes on the road. I want updates at every step.”

*

At the end of the first month, the (Tongzheng) Public Security Office received Fang Zhengke's urgent memorial, delivered at breakneck speed from 800 miles away.

Faster than Yin Chengyu had anticipated.

In the memorial, Fang Zhengke tore into the chaos of the Changlu salt administration, accusing the officials of collusion with salt merchants, issuing unauthorized salt permits, and embezzling salt taxes. He didn’t hold back. He even dragged in the incident where the orphan of the Zhao family blocked the road to lodge a complaint. His words were sharp, blistering with rage and heartbreak, scolding the Changlu Salt Administration officials for throwing the salt trade into disarray and trampling on human lives—all for personal greed. He demanded Emperor Longfeng launch a thorough investigation.

The emperor was livid. Without delay, he summoned the ailing Yu Huai’an back to court to audit the annual salt permits and tax records from Changlu.

It took the Ministry of Revenue three full days and nights to account for the missing tax silver.

And what they found? A staggering shortfall of fifty million taels over the past decade.

Salt taxes were the backbone of the treasury. The entire Great Yan Empire barely collected 20 million taels a year in total revenue.

The treasury was already running dry. Every time Emperor Longfeng so much as thought about building a garden, the court officials would hound him for extravagance. Meanwhile, these salt administrators were lining their pockets to bursting.

How could he swallow this insult?

Seething, Emperor Longfeng ordered a full investigation into the Changlu Salt Administration.

Not just Changlu—he wanted the salt offices in Lianghuai, Liangzhe, Shandong, and Hedong investigated top to bottom. No mercy for corrupt vermin.

But when it came to assigning someone to lead the charge, the emperor hit a wall.

The Changlu case alone was monumental. Adding four more regions? The political entanglements were unimaginable. A typical official wouldn’t even make it to the scene, let alone dig into the case.

When Emperor Longfeng asked in court, “Who will go?” the hall fell into silence. Civil and military officials alike stared at their toes, not daring to touch this flaming coal.

Two days passed with no resolution.

Then, another letter arrived from Fang Zhengke. This time, it was a plea for help disguised as a self-reproach. While reviewing Changlu’s archived documents, the salt office had mysteriously caught fire. Fang Zhengke, injured while putting out the blaze, had failed to save the records.

The emperor's patience wore thin. The investigation was critical, yet no one fit for the job emerged.

Just as Emperor Longfeng was nearing his wit’s end, Yin Chengyu seized the moment, stepping forward in court. “The corruption in the salt trade threatens the foundation of the empire. I am willing to go to Changlu, investigate the salt taxes, and relieve Father Emperor’s burden.”

At his words, the emperor and the court let out a collective sigh of relief.

No one was better suited than the Crown Prince.

Though Emperor Longfeng disliked seeing the Crown Prince gain too much influence, he had no other option. He begrudgingly nodded.

Still, he hesitated. The embezzled sum was astronomical—recovering even a fraction would be significant. If the investigator tampered with the numbers… how could he possibly know?

Instinctively, the emperor glanced at Yu Huai’an. With him overseeing the Ministry of Revenue, wouldn’t it be just as simple as “what the leader says, goes”?

As Emperor Longfeng mulled over adding a few more people to supervise the Crown Prince, Yin Chengyu took the initiative. “The journey to Changlu is long, and the Eastern Palace’s guards are insufficient. I request Father Emperor to grant me a contingent of the Imperial Guard to accompany me.”

“Of course,” the emperor replied, delighted. His son was finally showing some sense. He paused for effect before saying, “Xue Shu, Commander of the Four Camps under the Imperial Horse Guard, is skilled in both leadership and combat. I’ll assign him to lead 500 men to escort you.”

The Crown Prince smiled and bowed deeply. “Thank you, Father Emperor, for your care.”

Father and son exchanged knowing looks, both satisfied.

———Author's Note:

The dog: Got the token. Guess I’m officially someone’s mutt now.

The prince: (smirks)