If one were to speak of Zheng Xingcheng’s merits, Wei Ping could think of none; but when it came to corruption and bribery, Wei Ping could produce a mountain of evidence. Even crimes of the previous magistrate could be dug up by him.
Determined not to hold the magistrate back, Wei Ping stayed up all night and arrived at the county office early the next morning, dark circles under his eyes, to present the evidence he had organized.
Pei Zhu went through it from start to finish and was extremely satisfied. There was plenty of incriminating evidence against Zheng Xingcheng—just what he wanted. The more, the better; no chance of Zheng evading responsibility.
Humming a little tune, Pei Zhu carried the evidence and went to find Zheng Xingcheng.
Zheng tried to find an excuse to leave as soon as he saw him approaching—but he couldn’t. Pei Zhu came up and casually held him in place, while Wang Chuo and Wei Ping closed the door.
With nothing to gain, attention is always suspect; Zheng leapt to his feet, ready to seek out Zhang Rusheng. He felt unsafe being outnumbered three to one.
“Don’t worry, today I have some good news to discuss with you,” Pei Zhu said, pressing him down again and handing over the evidence.
A handsome, unmatched face loomed closer, but Zheng only felt disgust. He didn’t want to look at Pei Zhu; he merely glanced down at the papers tossed to him.
Reading the first page at a glance, he immediately realized what it contained. He became serious, flipping through the rest hastily, his mouth twisting in rage and his face contorted: “This is the ‘good news’ you spoke of?”
He glared suspiciously at Wei Ping. It had to be Wei Ping who prepared this. Pei Zhu was new to Yongning County and barely knew the place; without Wei Ping’s help, he could never have gotten this evidence. Had he known, he would have dealt with this traitorous bastard long ago!
Seeing Zheng’s anger, Pei Zhu calmly sat down and motioned for the others to do the same. With leverage in hand, negotiation was easy. He explained slowly: “You know the county faces two major issues. First, the villagers’ roofs outside the city need repairs—a considerable expense. Second, where will the winter wheat seeds come from?”
“Obviously, they’ll borrow them. Where else would they come from?” Zheng replied, thinking Pei Zhu was worrying unnecessarily. The villagers could always borrow from wealthy landlords in Youzhou. Whether they got them or what the interest would be had nothing to do with the county; it had always worked out in the past.
Pei Zhu shook his head slightly. “Why borrow seeds from outsiders when we already have them?”
Zheng looked puzzled—what seeds? He had no idea.
Pei Zhu sighed at his slow thinking: “Isn’t the grain stored in the North City granary just seeds?”
Zheng leapt to his feet, his face turning comically shocked: “But that’s tax grain!”
“This year’s harvest was decent; it’s the seeds kept by the villagers. No—better yet, it’s the seeds generously donated by you, sir,” Pei Zhu quickly amended, deciding to bind Zheng thoroughly to this venture. If he claimed the villagers themselves had kept the seeds, coordination would involve too many people, and the plan would be harder to conceal. But if Zheng donated them, the responsibility was entirely his.
“And the tax grain?!” Zheng nearly panicked.
Pei Zhu replied matter-of-factly: “Naturally, it was taken by the Hu.”
Zheng staggered, nearly losing his balance.
He thought Pei Zhu had gone mad. Did he realize what he was suggesting? Even the governor of Youzhou wouldn’t dare touch the imperial tax grain; if discovered, heads would roll.
Wang Chuo, however, raised an eyebrow in delight. This was bold—and it solved the immediate problem. Most would never think so creatively.
Pei Zhu, being exiled once and hailing from the future, had no reverence for the feudal court. Why hand over the tax grain when it could solve an urgent problem?
Zheng, stunned by Pei Zhu’s audacity, realized the second issue: the county office needed funds to repair villagers’ homes—but what if…
Pei Zhu smiled knowingly: “Correct, the money owed to Youzhou was also taken by the Hu.”
Yongning had saved funds to repay Youzhou, but just as they were about to, the Hu intercepted it. No fault of theirs. This foolish accounting ended here—Pei Zhu had no intention of returning it.
Finishing his explanation, Pei Zhu leisurely poured himself some tea.
With his cleverness, every problem was solved—sure enough, there are always more solutions than difficulties.
Zheng, now thoroughly intimidated, felt his heart pounding as if it might leap out. He was greedy, but not nearly as reckless as Pei Zhu. Pei Zhu not only seized Youzhou’s money but also the imperial grain—and blamed it on the Hu!
Realizing Pei Zhu intended to drag him into this, Zheng refused: “I won’t cooperate with you in such matters.”
Pei Zhu snorted: “I’m afraid you have no choice.”
Zheng realized immediately that Pei Zhu held his leverage.
Pei Zhu, not one to lie, nonetheless had to bluff to intimidate him: “Hiding the tax grain and funds may seem impossible to outsiders, but to you, it’s just a trivial matter. Even if it’s technically a crime, if no one knows, no one will prosecute. But if you don’t cooperate—”
Pei Zhu smiled: “You’ve likely inquired about my background. Unsurprisingly, you couldn’t find much. Allow me to tell you. The Pei family in the capital—you’ve heard of them, right?”
Zheng lowered his eyes, naturally familiar. Once prominent, the Pei clan had recently suffered under the new emperor.
“I come from a first-rate noble family. My uncle once served as prime minister. Although fallen on hard times, we’re far from gone. I’m favored in the family; coming to Yongning is temporary. Once the situation cools, I can return to the capital. Zheng, if the evidence I hold reaches the capital, not only will you be in grave danger, but so will the officials in Youzhou!”
Wang Chuo could barely contain his amusement—he knew the surviving Pei relatives well. Most of the Pei heirs had died, leaving none unaccounted for.
This argument was enough to sway Zheng.
Pei Zhu now offered a “sweetener”: “Naturally, if you cooperate, all your debts can be settled with the Hu as well. From then on, no corruption charges will remain against you. The seed donation will be credited to you—you’ll receive recognition, and within three years, I’ll see you promoted out of Yongning.”
Zheng’s gaze flickered; he struggled internally. He didn’t want to work with Pei Zhu, but outright refusal could mean death.
So many families in the capital had fallen; even if once powerful, connections could revive them. Pei Zhu might indeed have backing in the capital.
Zheng wavered but hesitated: “What if news reaches the Hu and they refuse?”
Pei Zhu: “When have thieves admitted to stealing? It’s normal if they don’t.”
Once the mess was made, it didn’t matter whether they admitted it or not.
Zheng had no rebuttal.
Wei Ping, annoyed by his hesitation, thought the magistrate needn’t waste words—he could have just executed him and skipped giving him a chance at merit. After a long pause, Wei Ping finally demanded: “Have you decided, Zheng? The magistrate has pressing matters and no time to dawdle with you.”
Zheng shot him a glare and, in frustration, finally agreed.
With leverage in Pei Zhu’s hands, Zheng was temporarily powerless—but he vowed one day to avenge his humiliation.
Wang Chuo prepared paper and ink to report the Hu’s seizure of grain and money to the Youzhou governor. As a mere tutor, he put in only a third of his effort, writing plainly, no embellishments—just factual recounting.
Pei Zhu and his team, however, were amazed. They had struck gold.
Zheng, looking at the documents and Wang’s face, hesitated: “You really are a tutor from a merchant family?”
How could a civil report be written better than his own? Good writing could turn a bad situation into a positive impression with superiors.
Wang stiffened: in remote regions, documents really were that poorly written. He offered a sheepish smile: “I studied official correspondence while helping my master avoid detection.”
Pei Zhu admired him immensely; no way could he write like this himself—too mentally taxing. This secretary was invaluable.
With official seals applied, Zheng could no longer escape responsibility.
Though he knew he had to comply, Zheng seethed, especially as Pei Zhu happily followed, giving instructions on clean-up. Zheng’s hard-earned influence and labor of subordinates would now serve Pei Zhu. Fate was cruel. He vowed never again to be entangled with Pei Zhu.
Grumbling, Zheng completed all the magistrate’s orders.
Pei Zhu realized Zheng was still useful: greedy, ruthless, ill-intentioned, but efficient. Some tasks Zheng could accomplish faster than Pei Zhu could himself.
Soon, news spread through Yongning County: though the Hu were defeated, they had earlier raided the North City granary, incapacitating the guards, stealing all tax grain, and taking the funds intended for Youzhou.
Previously, the county had been too busy defending the city to notice. Now, it was too late.
The outskirts of the city erupted.
No one expected the Hu to be so cunning and deceitful—stealing so much! Villagers lamented their lost taxes, now lining the Hu’s pockets.
Cursing the Hu became louder day by day. Once feared, now the villagers were ready for vengeance.
These thieves were utterly detestable! Roofs leaking, rain pouring—the magistrate didn’t even know how to grieve.
Before the villagers could despair long, news arrived: Deputy Magistrate Zheng, caring for the people and knowing they lacked seeds, had generously donated a portion for planting.
The farmers were shocked—could Zheng really be so kind?
They even went to the county office to confirm—it was true. Deputy Magistrate Zheng was truly generous.
Heaven help them—were all the prior cruel acts of exploitation forced by the previous magistrate? Otherwise, it made no sense.
Even Zhang Rusheng thought Zheng mad. Learning Zheng was donating his own seed, he pressed his forehead to his: “No fever, and yet doing this foolish thing?”
“Do you think I want to?”
“Then why do it?”
“I…,” Zheng hesitated and said nothing. The fewer who knew, the better. His state of mind was more complicated than the wronged Hu.
Yet he was curious how the Hu would react if they learned of this. Realizing others had it worse, Zheng couldn’t help but chuckle.
Zhang Rusheng, unsettled by his laughter, quietly stepped back.
Was Deputy Magistrate really this foolish?
Meanwhile, as Zheng opened the warehouse to donate the seeds, Yongning’s documents had already been sent to Youzhou. The officials assumed it was a request for troops and delayed reading for half a day.
The court, preoccupied with unrest in the northwest, could not afford another war with the Hu. No matter how much the Hu had taken from Yongning, it was just local unrest, not a major matter.
The Youzhou vice governor leisurely opened the documents. At first, he had time to ponder how Yongning found such a capable clerk—but reading further, he could no longer smile.
The audacity of the Hu to seize their funds and the imperial tax grain! What nerve!
Author’s Note: The final note about Journey to the West calling Sun Wukong a “balance-settling saint” is just a humorous aside—don’t take it literally.