Upon receiving this deadly news, Zheng Xingcheng stormed over to Pei Zhu, demanding an explanation.
First, secretly pocketing the tax grain and money—that was one crime.
Second, dragging him into it—that was two.
Third, provoking Yuzhou to send officials to audit the accounts—that was three.
Each of these was punishable by death. Pei Zhu’s crimes deserved execution!
Yet the would-be condemned Pei Zhu remained as calm as a mountain. Forgive him—he was just an ungraduated university student; what did he know of the dangers of officialdom? He didn’t even know how to write the word “fear.” If he couldn’t die, he might as well act boldly.
Zheng Xingcheng vented a torrent of accusations, but Pei Zhu ignored them entirely, still confident, still brazen: “Why fear? You’re a local bully in Yongning County—afraid of an outsider? Digging the canal is more important.”
What could a visiting high-ranking Yuzhou official really do? Pei Zhu didn’t believe they could storm Yongning County and overturn everything. At worst, Zheng would block them.
Zheng, fuming, snapped: “They’re coming with people to investigate! And you still treat this lightly, even thinking about digging a canal! Stop immediately before you dig your own grave!”
Pei Zhu, stubborn as an ox, thought of the three-month deadline: “No.”
Who knew what punishment awaited a failed mission? If a snowstorm or disaster struck, Yongning County would collapse—and Pei Zhu couldn’t gamble with that.
Zheng suddenly laughed, teetering on the edge of madness. They wouldn’t listen, huh? Fine!
If things got him involved, he would report it himself. Pei Zhu, Wei Ping, and that mysterious Wang Chuo would all be captured—sold or executed!
In his daydream, Zheng found a momentary sense of peace.
Pei Zhu, too, enjoyed the relative quiet. Stopping work was impossible—at most, a two-day delay. It was nearly October; in two months, when snow fell and the cold bit, who would even venture outside? Not for any amount of money.
The county office was acting openly, and the locals had heard about the canal project.
It was said that when the canal was completed, the Chaobai River would no longer flood disastrously each season. The people were fed up with floods; even partial relief would be great news.
With winter wheat already sown, some went to the office to ask about the canal and offered their labor. People didn’t forget favors—their roofs repaired by the county, their wheat supplied by Deputy Magistrate Zheng—and helping dig the canal, too, seemed natural.
Originally, work was about to begin. But, of all times, Yuzhou’s officials arrived. The office claimed a two-day delay, but the locals were frustrated—who knew if it would be postponed indefinitely?
“They arrive neither early nor late. The Hu people already raided us, and now they come? Looking for trouble.”
Some radicals even despised the Yuzhou officials: “Are these people just here to extort?”
In blind confidence, the locals were now nearly as bold as Magistrate Pei.
The only person who took the Yuzhou officials seriously was Zheng Xingcheng. Zhang Rusheng didn’t care—he was just a lackey, never ambitious. He paid no mind to Yuzhou’s envoys, though he still listened to Zheng.
In recent days, Zheng had cleaned the office inside and out, prepared the back quarters for the visiting officials, and even intended to slaughter two horses to host them.
But Pei Zhu refused firmly.
During the Hu attack, aside from worthless items, they had lost roughly 100 taels of cash and 1,900 warhorses. One thousand were wounded, over 500 died from blood loss, leaving just over 400 intact.
The dead horses had been salted and preserved, reserved for the New Year; the living ones were secretly raised in the official fields, each a treasure. Pei Zhu had no plans to dispose of them cheaply.
Upon hearing Pei Zhu’s refusal, Zheng stormed the office again.
“This time, it’s the Yuzhou Biejia! Fifth-rank official! You won’t even kill a horse? Are you trying to anger them completely?”
Pei Zhu was busy drafting his reservoir plan, occasionally consulting Wang Chuo and Wei Ping. He barely glanced at Zheng: “Killing a horse—would they treat Yongning County any better?”
He had worked hard to write a petition for aid, yet Yuzhou gave no response. Pei Zhu knew they were unreliable—angering them made no difference; Yongning County had never been welcome anyway.
Zheng, flustered, shouted: “You can’t be so negligent!”
Wei Ping quipped: “How else? Cover them in dirt? Throw clean water on the street?”
Sure, they could do that—but would the officials appreciate it?
Zheng glared at Wei Ping, then threatened Pei Zhu: “Don’t say I didn’t warn you—if the higher-ups get angry and secretly find something…”
Wei Ping added: “Then secretly poison them.”
Worthless parasites, no good leaving them alive.
Pei Zhu ducked slightly. Wei Ping was dangerously audacious.
Zheng fell silent for a while, secretly envying Wei Ping’s ability to be so ruthless. He wanted to do the same to Pei Zhu, but Pei was the magistrate—he was just a deputy.
Despite Zheng’s schemes, he got nothing.
When Yuzhou’s Biejia Du Liangchuan arrived with a clerk and ten guards, they were first struck by the poverty of the Yongning County office. The gates were corroded, the walls peeling—the office had clearly long been neglected.
Looking further, they saw a young, handsome magistrate leading three odd subordinates, all smiling at them, with a sparse, disorganized staff behind—one glance and it seemed the county was doomed.
After brief pleasantries, Du Liangchuan washed up and was served a modest welcoming feast. He confirmed Yongning County was utterly destitute. They had seen poor offices, but rarely like this.
Pei Zhu, as magistrate, had to offer words of hospitality: “Honorable sirs, you’ve come from afar. Normally, we would offer a warm welcome, but Yongning County has just suffered misfortune and resources are scarce. Please forgive our shortcomings.”
He first toasted himself. Even plain water with salted meat was fine; a bowl of rice would have been better. To save costs, only Du Liangchuan’s table had sake; Pei Zhu and his team drank plain water.
Du Liangchuan sipped reluctantly, then watched Pei Zhu skillfully draw diagrams on a board: “When Yongning County prospers, I will invite you again for fine wine and cuisine to make up for today.”
Du Liangchuan chuckled. This little magistrate dreamed big—thinking a remote county could prosper. Maybe in another life.
The meal was unappetizing; the only meat was salted. Du Liangchuan was used to lavish feasts with bribes lining his pockets—this was a shock.
He sighed, noticing Pei Zhu eagerly devouring the salted meat.
Why argue with a poor man?
Zheng glared at Pei Zhu multiple times, but Pei Zhu only ate, oblivious to flattering superiors. Zheng wanted to curry favor, but Du Liangchuan showed no interest.
Zheng, believing he had connections in Yuzhou, realized the clerk he knew was far below Biejia rank—he would observe before attempting flattery.
The meal ended blandly; the visiting officials and guards looked displeased.
After resting at the office, Du Liangchuan felt something missing. Leaving the office, he saw three approaching figures: the Yongning magistrate and two men from the previous meal—likely Zheng and Zhang.
From afar, Pei Zhu saw Zheng and Zhang carrying food boxes. The county hadn’t paid—Zheng had. Pei Zhu, eager to tease Zheng, stepped forward: “Oh, Deputy Magistrate Zheng, bringing a snack for me? How thoughtful.”
Zheng merely sneered. Zhang, protective, scolded: “Nice thought—but we wouldn’t give it to a dog, let alone you!”
Pei Zhu clicked his tongue, unbothered.
A moment later, the two food boxes were presented to Du Liangchuan, with obsequious faces from Zheng and Zhang: “Sir, we prepared this especially for you; please accept it.”
Du Liangchuan: “……”
He couldn’t smile—he wasn’t a dog.
Zheng and Zhang were dismissed. Du Liangchuan grew increasingly frustrated; he had never been insulted this way. Though likely unintentional, he disliked such thoughtlessness.
The next morning, Du Liangchuan, fueled by frustration, began investigating the stolen tax grain and debt. The first to be interrogated was Zheng Xingcheng.
Zheng felt puzzled—shouldn’t the magistrate be questioned first?
Wei Ping stared sharply at Zheng.
Zheng noticed—rarely had someone been more nervous than Pei Zhu. With malice shared, he whispered to Wei Ping: “Clean your neck and await death.”
Wei Ping, following Pei Zhu, was anxious. Zheng had frequently provoked the magistrate; he worried: “Sir, Zheng Xingcheng won’t rat us out, will he?”
Pei Zhu scratched his cheek: “…Probably not this soon.”
He didn’t trust Zheng entirely, but he knew Zheng would weigh the risks—there was no benefit to exposing them.
Wei Ping nervously touched his pocket. He also didn’t want to actually poison anyone.
Wei·The Deadly Chemist·Ping: Equally eager to poison every corrupt official!