The meeting ended in discord, and after sending off County Magistrate Zhang, who had left in a huff, Pei Zhu was still sighing.
He had surely made a powerful enemy this time. If that small silver mine hadn’t been seized by the prefectural government, he wouldn’t have clung so insistently to Magistrate Zhang. Pei Zhu himself knew this wasn’t entirely proper, but borrowing money was one of those things where practice made perfect. By now, he didn’t even need to think about how to ask—he could just speak and get it done.
Damn the habit.
Back at the county office, Pei Zhu remained worried, but his attention was soon diverted. Cheng Si and the others had gathered, scheming how to deal with Zhao Bingwen. They had already given him a beating earlier, and the man’s mouth was still swollen.
Pei Zhu, though thinking Zhao Bingwen deserved a beating, cautioned: “Take it easy. Don’t injure him too badly.”
Zheng Xingcheng sneered arrogantly: “So what if he dies? He spoke out of turn in public—he deserves it.”
Pei Zhu still found it hard to adapt to Zheng Xingcheng’s change in temperament. He knew Zheng wasn’t exactly a good person, but this kind of unpredictability made him feel like a villain. Just days ago, he had been trying hard to flatter Zhao Bingwen. Pei Zhu couldn’t control Zheng, but he still said firmly: “Listen to me—let off some steam, but don’t actually kill him.”
Zheng Xingcheng mocked Pei Zhu for being soft-hearted.
No one was sure how to proceed, when Wang Chuo, who hadn’t left the office that day, suddenly spoke: “Why don’t you leave it to me? I have a method that won’t harm him fundamentally but can teach him a lesson.”
“What method?” Wei Ping asked curiously.
Wang Chuo paused for a moment: “Breaking the eagle.”
Zhang Rusheng scoffed, unimpressed: “I thought it would be something remarkable. Not interesting.”
It sounded bland—he’d rather just give Zhao a few punches for fun.
But Zheng Xingcheng thought differently. Although he had never used this method, his instincts told him Wang Chuo was not as simple as he appeared. In other words, Wang had something up his sleeve. If so, it might be worth leaving Zhao to him. Zheng lifted his chin: “If you’re not lazy, the task is yours. But if nothing changes in two or three days, I’ll take over and break Zhao Bingwen’s legs myself!”
Pei Zhu, concerned about them going too far, quickly instructed Wang Chuo to proceed.
Wang Chuo nodded and calmly went to the prison.
Zhao Bingwen, likely still wary from his beating, relaxed slightly upon seeing Wang Chuo. A small adviser like him wasn’t nearly as frightening as Cheng Si or Zheng Xingcheng—nothing to fear.
But he relaxed too soon.
Wang Chuo only left Cheng Si nearby. After closing the door, he lifted his robe and slowly sat before Zhao Bingwen, his voice calm as always: “You have served Prefect Liu for many years—you must know quite a bit about the prefectural government’s internal affairs. Tell me, has your master, Prefect Liu, ever had enemies?”
Zhao Bingwen snorted in disbelief. How could he possibly reveal that? Doing so would leave both him and Prefect Liu vulnerable. Did Wang Chuo think he was foolish?
Wang Chuo wasn’t surprised by his reaction and smiled: “Not answering is fine too.”
He had Cheng Si open the windows and doors to brighten the room and instructed that guards rotate shifts, providing food and water when hungry or thirsty, but not allowing Zhao Bingwen to sleep—not for a single moment.
Zhao Bingwen sneered at this, thinking such trivial tactics couldn’t possibly make him betray Prefect Liu.
He was the Prefect’s trusted aide—surely Wang Chuo didn’t understand that?
The conflict earlier had probably already been reported to Youzhou, but there was no news from there, nor any word of sending Zhao back. It was as if he were dead. Well, being dead would have been easier, but he couldn’t die. Whether Prefect Liu was angry or not didn’t concern Pei Zhu. That Prefect had never helped Yongning County anyway.
But when it came time to plead poverty, one still had to do it. Pei Zhu wrote yet another pitiful letter—one part to gain sympathy, one part to hope the prefectural government would act and pressure the imperial court to condemn the Eastern Hu.
The letter was sent, though it wouldn’t have an immediate effect. Pei Zhu planned to send one daily, with Zheng Xingcheng writing alternately, calling out injustices so frequently it would become a nuisance to Prefect Liu.
Zheng Xingcheng, full of resentment toward Prefect Liu, didn’t need Pei Zhu to remind him. He wrote long, scolding letters diligently, annoying even himself. Since his career was over, he didn’t care whether Prefect Liu got angry—he deserved it.
Pei Zhu was more concerned about Anping County’s reaction. That day, he had visited twice, yet hadn’t even seen Magistrate Zhang’s face, let alone gotten into the office. They simply refused to meet him. After preparing so much, he couldn’t even utter a word.
Pei Zhu also considered what to do if Magistrate Zhang still refused. After weighing all options, selling horses was the only choice—but when he suggested it, the others strongly opposed.
To the people of Yongning County, these horses were extraordinary—they were the first spoils from defeating the Hu. No one wanted to sell them unless in desperate circumstances.
Pei Zhu grumbled internally—aren’t they already desperate?
Wang Chuo also objected: “The Hu are formidable. To fully subdue them later, cavalry will be necessary. These horses are rare and excellent for breeding. Don’t sacrifice long-term plans for short-term gains.”
Pei Zhu buried his head, feeling somewhat helpless. But he really thought Wang Chuo was audacious, talking about cavalry… They couldn’t even raise a proper army, let alone form cavalry. Even if they could, they wouldn’t dare to use it—the imperial court had so few cavalry. Building one might as well be treason. Pei Zhu never intended to rebel; he just wanted to aid the people.
He huffed for a moment, then mumbled: “We still need to raise some money, though.”
“Make a few more trips to Anping County,” Wang Chuo decided. “Heaven rewards diligence. The magistrate must endure some hardship.”
Zheng Xingcheng could not agree more.
Pei Zhu had no objection—he was used to running around outside anyway. Losing face didn’t matter; he could endure it as long as he didn’t care.
After the meeting, Wang Chuo quickened his pace to catch up with Zheng Xingcheng. Walking side by side, Wang asked if Zheng had connections with the other three magistrates or could indirectly pass messages.
Zheng eyed him suspiciously: “What do you want to do?”
“Nothing,” Wang Chuo said calmly. “I just want to leverage your connections to help Yongning County.”
Zheng snorted arrogantly: “Why should I help you?”
“Would you be interested in the prefectural government’s secrets?”
Zheng Xingcheng paused mid-step.
Meanwhile, Pei Zhu continued tirelessly persuading Anping County. Wang Chuo, Wei Ping, and the others trained the officers and mobilized the people. The Hu could return in ten days, and they needed regulations in place quickly. As for borrowing money, Pei Zhu was enough.
Magistrate Zhang didn’t want to see Pei Zhu, but he waited outside. Zhang couldn’t just ignore him. Pei Zhu clung to him, and after exhausting Zhang, he posed a difficult question: “Even if you rebuild the workshop, will female workers agree to help? The Hu clearly plan to provoke us again. Yongning County can’t even secure the workshop area—who would risk themselves for you? Even if the people of Yongning County are loyal to you, why should the people of Anping County endanger themselves?”
“I’ll convince them!” Pei Zhu immediately agreed, as if he had found a goal, then hurriedly said goodbye and ran off to prove himself.
“Wait—”
Zhang reached out but couldn’t stop him. Well, at least he had given him a challenge, so he could stop worrying.
Zhang had underestimated Pei Zhu’s determination. To prove that people were willing to return to the workshop, Pei Zhu personally visited the female workers of Anping County, repeatedly apologizing, reassuring, and making promises—completely disregarding a magistrate’s dignity.
Seeing Pei Zhu humble himself for a mere workshop, Zhang felt uneasy. Even worse, many citizens had come that day to the office asking when the workshop would reopen.
Aren’t they afraid? They had been scared before, and now they risk themselves to return to the workshop? Why bother?
“They’re not afraid. Money is finally to be made; who wants to give up?” Mrs. Zhang explained after receiving a group of female relatives at the official residence. She was happy they finally ventured outside; letting them retreat now would be frustrating.
Zhang snorted: “You always speak in Pei Zhu’s favor.”
Mrs. Yang protested: “When have I ever done that? I speak matter-of-factly. The office invested so much; we can’t quit halfway. Besides, if even the girls aren’t afraid, why should you men be so fearful? It’s just forty-some Hu; why be so unsettled? Even crudely, one spittle per person could drown them. Why give up for such a little?”
Mrs. Yang didn’t understand where their fear of the Hu came from. The people of Yongning County weren’t afraid—what was there to fear from Anping County, separated by a distance?
Zhang wavered at her words.
But then the county officials repeatedly urged him to resist Pei Zhu’s sweet talk, insisting he must not agree. Anping County wasn’t rich—they couldn’t keep giving money endlessly. Yongning County could borrow from elsewhere. Why cling to them?
Not a single coin!
The officials of Anping County were united; the female relatives outside kept urging him. Poor Zhang felt torn again and again.
At the same time, letters from the other three magistrates arrived, mocking Pei Zhu and sneering at Anping County, as if enjoying the misfortune. Zhang was furious—why was he being looked down upon? They were only slightly wealthier. Thirty years east, thirty years west—who knows the future?
The more he thought, the angrier he became, wishing he could ride over and argue for three days straight.
Just then, Pei Zhu arrived again, this time with utmost sincerity. He knew Zhang’s concern: the workshop might be damaged again. Words alone were never enough.
So, Pei Zhu had spent the last two days training people, with excellent results: “Magistrate Zhang, if you don’t believe me, come see for yourself. The thirty-plus officers of Yongning County are completely different from before. They won’t lose to the Hu. The nearby citizens have self-organized patrols. If anything happens, they’ll come to help immediately.”
Pei Zhu spoke proudly, unaware Zhang was fuming, crumpling a letter in his hands.
“All roads from Yanshan to Yongning County and the workshop have checkpoints. If the Hu really come, they’ll be skinned alive,” Pei Zhu added, showing a signal flare he had developed. The gunpowder was paid from Zheng Xingcheng’s funds—at a life-or-death moment, Zheng had no choice.
“This device is for communication. Last time, the Hu succeeded because the message didn’t get through. If the people of Yongning County can be alerted, the Hu won’t stand a chance. The flare carries farther and is louder than a birdcall. When the Hu appear, the officers will ignite it at the foot of the mountain, and Yongning County will go on full alert immediately!”
Zhang could not contain his anger, throwing the letter out the window, barely glancing at the signal flare. He had ignored most of Pei Zhu’s long-winded explanations. Thinking of how they mocked him, Zhang’s anger rose again. On impulse, he said: “If the Hu attack next time and Yongning County successfully repels them, I’ll let the county provide funds to rebuild the workshop.”
“Really?” Pei Zhu’s eyes sparkled as if filled with stars.
Zhang pushed his face back: “Don’t be proud. You need a real, decisive victory. Last time it was only forty; who knows if next time it will be four hundred, four thousand?”
Pei Zhu considered this—possible, but at least there was hope. If Bao Rijin hadn’t exaggerated, the Hu’s southward move would come in a few days. He needed to pay close attention.
Leaving with a “Wait for my good news,” Pei Zhu rushed off again.
Zhang watched him leave, gradually calming his agitation and anger.
He hoped Pei Zhu wouldn’t disappoint him this time.
Actually, Pei Zhu would give his all regardless. Today’s return journey was far from hopeless. He was ecstatic and more skilled at riding, able to manage Cheng Si with ease. Though he hadn’t achieved a great scholarly success, he still pompously said, “With the spring wind, horse hooves fly,” and felt talented. Encouraged by Cheng Si, he prepared to boast further.
Suddenly, a shadow appeared before him. Pei Zhu instinctively pulled the reins tight.
The horse neighed, stumbled, pawed the ground, spun twice, and finally stood still.
Pei Zhu’s heart raced. Dismounting, he rushed to check and saw a massive man lying not far away. Approaching, the man grabbed his leg with tremendous strength—Pei Zhu couldn’t budge him.
Cold sweat poured down Pei Zhu’s face: Don’t come any closer!
Cheng Si, seeing the trouble, shouted. The man on the ground struggled to lift his head, glanced at Pei Zhu, and only managed to utter one word before fainting: “Hungry…”