While Zhu Qingyu traveled south by boat to Yangzhou, Gu Zhao was presenting the account books submitted by Yan Pan to the Emperor.
The Emperor flipped through the account books and laughed in exasperation:
“Account books again! This is the third one now? This Yangzhou officialdom—everything else is a complete mess, but their skill at fabricating account books to file accusations is truly first-rate.”
Though the Emperor had been on the throne for less than a year, he had already served as regent for the late Emperor for two years before ascending.
Three years ago, the late Emperor, devastated by the death of Noble Consort Gao from illness, had grieved so deeply that he fell ill and took to his bed. After a year of lingering illness, he could no longer manage state affairs and issued an edict appointing the Crown Prince as regent.
The first major case the Emperor handled as Crown Prince regent was the Yangzhou Private Salt Case.
Relying on an anonymously submitted account book, he had followed the trail and raided the stronghold of the great salt smuggler Hu Xiaofeng. Hu Xiaofeng was executed by lingchi, and the Salt Commissioner of Yangzhou at the time, having colluded with the salt smugglers, was also beheaded as a public example.
The case was closed, but that account book—which had appeared out of nowhere and was said to be Hu Xiaofeng’s private records—was ultimately discovered to be a forgery.
Half a year ago, when the Emperor ascended the throne, the second account book of accusations arrived, and another Yangzhou Salt Commissioner, Yan Qizhong, fell from power.
Yan Qizhong’s crimes of harming the Zao Households, trafficking private salt, and extorting bribes were real, but the account book that accused him was also fake.
Now came this third one. Gu Zhao reported:
“I compared them last night. The first two were meticulous and detailed—though forged, they were convincing enough to pass as genuine. But this account book is too crude, riddled with errors. It doesn’t appear to be the work of the same hand.”
As the supreme ruler of all under heaven, yet repeatedly fooled by petty people hiding in the shadows with forged account books, the Emperor threw the book back onto the table and laughed in fury:
“More than one person? Fine, fine, excellent! Cousin, hand the informant over to the Ministry of Justice. Have them interrogate thoroughly and dig out the mastermind behind this. I want to see what kind of creatures these insolent ruffians who show no respect for their sovereign truly are.”
Though the account book was fake, the matters it described might not be. Since it implicated Lei Dawu, the salt smuggler who had escaped a few months prior, the Emperor immediately issued a secret edict reprimanding the Viceroy of Liangjiang, ordering him to capture Lei Dawu and bring him to the capital without delay. Any further delay would be met with severe punishment.
As for the others who had been accused, the Emperor’s thinking happened to align perfectly with Gu Zhao’s:
“Capturing Lei Dawu is the top priority. As for the other accomplices, we can arrest them anytime—leave them for now. No need to startle the snake.”
After completing his duties, Gu Zhao received an imperial order to return to the manor and deliver medicine bestowed by the Empress Dowager to Old Madame Gu.
The capital was a bustling place, with traffic flowing like water day and night. On his way back to the manor, seeing the blue-cloth carriages ubiquitous on the streets, Gu Zhao couldn’t help but laugh at himself in self-mockery.
They were everywhere—so how on earth had he mistaken the Zhang family’s carriage that morning for the one she had ridden that day?
It was utterly irrational, as if he were possessed.
Perhaps, though he wanted to let the matter quietly fade away like the wind, he was ultimately still curious about who she was.
Because of this incident, Old Madame Gu had suffered a blow, and seeing that Gu Zhao had been busy with official matters from morning to night without any intention of entering the Buddhist Order, she didn’t muster the energy to arrange a companion for him all the way until the New Year.
The first New Year after the Emperor’s ascension finally passed peacefully. The Emperor had secured his throne, the Grand Secretariat had settled into order, and everyone performed their duties accordingly. Gu Zhao no longer had to stay in the palace day and night—except for one day every ten days when he was required to remain at his duty station, he could return to the manor to reside.
One morning, just before dawn, waking once again from a tantalizing dream, Gu Zhao skillfully searched for a change of clothes while thinking to himself that perhaps he ought to take a wife.
Otherwise, why would he keep dreaming of a young woman who had nothing to do with him and whom he had only met twice? It had been months now, yet that radiant smile, those seductive gasps, that lingering pleasure—instead of fading, they wound through his dreams, night after night, growing ever more vivid.
The great desires of man reside within all—he was merely a mortal after all. Perhaps this was simply because he had not yet married. Once he took a wife, it should be fine.
With the Shizi spending more time at the manor, all the servants on duty became more vigilant, secretly observing and studying the Shizi’s preferences to avoid offending him or botching their assignments.
One day, Nanny Zhao, who managed the laundry, came specifically to pay her respects to Old Madame Gu. As she was about to leave, she hinted subtly:
“The Shizi is fond of cleanliness. His undergarments need to be changed every day.”
Nanny Zhao was an old servant who had attended Old Madame Gu for many years. The moment she mentioned this, Old Madame Gu immediately became alert. At such a vigorous, hot-blooded age, there really needed to be someone in his chambers after all.
Seeing that the national mourning period would end in a few months, after which marriages could take place, Old Madame Gu decided not to create further complications. She abandoned the idea of finding Gu Zhao a tongfang and instead, when Gu Zhao came to pay his respects, handed him several name cards:
“Don’t bury yourself in official matters all the time. Spring has arrived, and the scenery outside is lovely—you young people should be out enjoying the greenery and admiring the flowers. These few flower-viewing banquets—come along with your grandmother and take a look. If someone catches your eye, you can settle your marriage matter. Though the formal rites can’t proceed yet, the two families can reach a private agreement, and once the national mourning period ends, the Six Rites can be carried out.”
Gu Zhao flipped through the invitations. Clearly, his grandmother had already pre-selected them—all were families of comparable standing to the Duke’s mansion, suitable for marriage alliance.
In the capital, the flower-viewing banquets held by noble families in spring were nominally about admiring flowers, but in reality, they were occasions for matchmaking. Eligible young ladies and gentlemen from families of similar rank would all attend.
Gu Zhao had grown up rarely even returning to the mansion, and had neither the energy nor the interest for such banquets.
But this time, he replied:
“Yes, I’ll follow Grandmother’s arrangements.”
That spring, Gu Zhao accompanied his grandmother and mother to several flower-viewing banquets in succession—both to observe others and to be observed himself.
After visiting several families, Old Madame Gu specifically summoned him to ask:
“Among these families, is there anyone you fancy?”
To Gu Zhao, these families were all the same—no difference at all. In fact, when he thought back, he couldn’t even recall what the young ladies from these families looked like.
So Gu Zhao asked in return:
“Does Grandmother have a preference?”
Old Madame Gu was left speechless by his response, then scolded:
“It’s you who’s taking a wife, not me, an old woman! Why should you care who I fancy? A family like ours doesn’t need to use your marriage to curry favor or climb higher. Naturally, you should choose someone you fancy yourself. Otherwise, if you marry someone you don’t like, wouldn’t you be quarreling every day and disturbing the peace of the household? Since none of these families catch your eye, we’ll look at more.”
Old Madame Gu lowered the family standing a notch and selected several more families, waiting for Gu Zhao to come and choose among them.
But that day, Gu Zhao arrived in haste and spoke first:
“Grandmother, your grandson has received orders to leave the capital on official business. I depart in a few days. This assignment will take anywhere from a few months to over half a year. As for the marriage matter, I leave it entirely to Grandmother’s discretion.”