Chu Huan stiffened all over.
“The monthly profits from the shops in my dowry are sent into the estate’s accounts,” Wen Lingrao pointed at the ledger. “But the figures recorded here do not match the numbers sent by my shopkeepers. Where did the missing portion go?”
Chu Huan’s face turned deathly pale. His lips trembled, but he couldn’t utter a single word.
Wen Lingrao sneered, “You won’t say? Then I’ll say it for you. You and the Old Madam split that silver. You took the smaller share, and she took the lion’s share. Did you think that just because I haven’t been married into this household for long, I wouldn’t look into these old accounts?”
Chu Huan finally couldn’t hold on anymore. He prostrated on the ground, weeping bitterly, “Young Madam, it was the Old Madam, it was all the Old Madam who told me to do this! As a mere servant, how could this slave dare to disobey the Old Madam? The Old Madam said that the Young Madam’s dowry was generous and those shops were highly profitable, so it was only right to take some out to subsidize the public funds. This slave truly had no choice!”
Wen Lingrao listened quietly, her face devoid of expression.
Only after he finished speaking did she open her mouth: “The Old Madam ordered it?”
“Yes, yes!” Chu Huan nodded desperately. “This slave wouldn’t dare lie, it really was the Old Madam who made me do it. That silver was sent to the Old Madam’s courtyard every month. This slave didn’t dare take a single copper coin extra!”
Wen Lingrao smiled. “And the funds you just embezzled, were those also ordered by the Old Madam?”
Chu Huan choked.
“Did the Old Madam tell you to embezzle the Heir’s silver? Did the Old Madam tell you to tamper with the purchasing? Did the Old Madam tell you to falsify all kinds of accounts?”
Wen Lingrao’s barrage of questions left Chu Huan speechless.
“Chu Huan, you are a smart one, knowing to push the blame onto your masters when things go wrong.” Wen Lingrao looked down at him. “But do you think I would believe you?”
Chu Huan lay flat on the ground, trembling so hard he couldn’t speak.
Wen Lingrao turned around, walked back to her seat, sat down, and placed the ledger on the table.
“I will naturally go and ask about the Old Madam’s matters. But today,” she picked up her tea and blew on it gently, “we will settle your accounts first.”
Chu Huan looked up, his eyes filled with terror.
“Hong Ying.”
“This servant is here.”
“Go and call all the servants in the estate to the courtyard.” Wen Lingrao took a sip of tea. “Let them all see what happens when someone embezzles their master’s silver.”
Hong Ying complied and turned to leave.
Chu Huan collapsed on the ground, his face ashen.
…
The courtyard was densely packed with a dark crowd of people.
Every servant who could walk had been called to the main courtyard. Everyone whispered and muttered to one another, not knowing what had happened.
“I heard something happened to Steward Chu.”
“Is it true? Steward Chu is the Old Madam’s man.”
“Sister Hong Ying came to call us personally, how could it be false?”
“Then what are we standing here for? To watch a spectacle?”
“What spectacle? Be careful not to bring trouble upon yourself.”
Whispers rose and fell, but no one dared to speak loudly.
Wen Lingrao’s gaze swept slowly across their faces.
She looked around and had a clear idea in her heart.
These people were all those who had been squeezed dry by Chu Huan.
She had seen too many people like this in the palace.
Those eunuchs and maids who lacked influence were bullied relentlessly by their superiors. They only received a meager monthly allowance, and even that would be docked by half. But if you gave them a chance to claw it back, they would run faster than anyone.
Wen Lingrao remembered a saying she had heard in her past life: With enough profit, even ghosts will grind the mill for you.
The words were crude, but the reasoning was sound.
She withdrew her gaze, took a deep breath, and suddenly shouted:
“Tong Meng!”
From the crowd, a burly man stepped forward in response: “This lowly one is here!”
“Take your men and go to Chu Huan’s courtyard.” Wen Lingrao’s voice was clear and resonant, enunciating every single word distinctly. “Move everything out of his room for me.”
Tong Meng cupped his fists: “Yes!”
He waved his hand, and over a dozen guards immediately followed, striding toward Chu Huan’s courtyard.
A commotion rippled through the crowd in the courtyard.
Moving things? Is this a house raid?
Wen Lingrao raised her hand and pressed it downward. The crowd gradually quieted.
“Listen to me well.” She looked at these people, her gaze sharp. “The evidence of Chu Huan embezzling the master’s silver is irrefutable. That dirty silver will be confiscated and returned to the treasury, not a single copper coin less.”
The crowd listened with bated breath, unsure of what the Young Madam would say next.
Wen Lingrao paused, then suddenly turned up the corners of her mouth:
“As for the remaining things, you all get to split half!”
Boom—
The crowd exploded.
“Split half?”
“Is it true?!”
“The Young Madam said it, how could it be false?”
“Then what are we waiting for?”
No one knew who shouted first, but the crowd surged like a flooding river released from its floodgates, rumbling toward Chu Huan’s courtyard.
The rough-work old women ran the fastest, their decades-old rheumatic legs no longer aching.
The courtyard-sweeping maids dashed wildly, their faces flushed with excitement.
The kitchen helpers threw down their rags and charged forward with the crowd.
“Slow down, slow down, don’t push!”
“Push what? Whoever grabs it first gets it!”
“Mine, mine, I saw that first!”
Wen Lingrao stood under the veranda, watching the people rush over like a tide, the corners of her lips slightly raised.
Hong Ying stood behind her, dumbfounded.
“M-Miss…” she stammered. “This… this is too…”
“Too what?” Wen Lingrao looked back at her.
Hong Ying swallowed hard: “Too ruthless.”
Wen Lingrao smiled.
Ruthless?
She certainly didn’t think so.
Chu Huan had embezzled so much; all of it was the blood and sweat money of these servants.
Now, letting them divide up Chu Huan’s things was exactly what they deserved.
“Let’s go.” Wen Lingrao stepped forward. “Let’s go take a look.”
Chu Huan’s courtyard had already descended into absolute chaos.
Tong Meng and the guards blocked the doorway as they moved the items out of the room one by one.
Chests, cabinets, bundles, jars, and pots were all piled in the middle of the courtyard, stacked high like a small mountain.
The servants formed a circle, their eyes turning green with greed.
“This padded jacket is mine!”
“I saw that copper basin first!”
“Don’t snatch, don’t snatch, those are my shoes!”
When Wen Lingrao walked into the courtyard, she saw two old women fighting over a padded jacket, their faces flushed red with exertion.
She didn’t say a word and walked straight to the center of the courtyard.
Chu Huan was kneeling right there.
He wasn’t kneeling on his own volition; he was being stepped on.
Wen Lingrao’s hidden guard, Ling Ji, had one foot planted on Chu Huan’s back, pressing him firmly against the ground.
Chu Huan lay sprawled out, his face pressed against the earth, trembling all over and unable to move an inch.
Seeing Wen Lingrao approach, Ling Ji gave a slight nod.
Wen Lingrao waved her hand at him and looked down at Chu Huan on the ground.
Chu Huan struggled to raise his head, his eyes brimming with despair.
He watched as his belongings, accumulated over twenty years, were all hauled out and piled up right there.
Those servants whom he usually wouldn’t even deign to look at were now frantically looting his possessions.
Gone.
All of it was gone.
Chu Huan’s lips quivered. He wanted to scream but couldn’t make a sound; he wanted to move but couldn’t budge.
Wen Lingrao crouched down to meet his eye level.
“Steward Chu,” her tone was indifferent, “does your heart ache?”
Chu Huan glared at her, his eyes entirely bloodshot.
“Over these past twenty years, what you’ve scraped off the backs of others is far more than this,” Wen Lingrao smiled faintly. “Those rough-work old women make eight hundred copper coins a month, yet you docked two hundred. Those courtyard-sweeping maids sweep snow in the dead of winter until their hands are frostbitten and raw, yet you wouldn’t even issue them a thick padded jacket. Those kitchen helpers work ten double-hours a day, but what they eat is worse than what you feed your dog.”