Outside, the world was ablaze with war, yet Qingjiang Prefecture remained stable and prosperous, its gates busy with a steady stream of people coming and going.
The prefect had issued an order: this year's taxes need not be paid immediately — people could carry the debt for now.
Of course, in areas that had enjoyed good harvests and comfortable means, those who preferred not to owe anything were welcome to pay their taxes in full.
Not only had this year's tax rate been reduced from the sixty percent the imperial court demanded, it had been cut by a further ten percent — only thirty percent was collected.
By the cunning logic of common folk, if you can avoid paying, you avoid paying.
And yet, in the end, most people voluntarily paid their thirty percent.
Most common people are decent at heart.
Or perhaps it was the influence of the prefect, Lin Xuejin, that had moved so many of them.
I treat you with sincerity; you, in turn, treat me with sincerity.
That is the power of a leader.
A corrupt leader drags everyone beneath him into corruption.
A good leader can awaken the conscience of at least some of those he leads.
After the sweet potato harvest, Lin Xuejin arranged for districts throughout the prefecture to exchange other grains for sweet potatoes at prices roughly equivalent to ordinary coarse grain.
Sweet potatoes are high in sugar — better than most coarse grains — yet difficult to keep for long.
Better to trade them for other grains that could be stored.
The common people were glad to accept the arrangement; the higher sugar content made the sweet potatoes genuinely tasty and more filling.
And so, a hundred million jin of sweet potatoes were exchanged, with a portion sold to neighboring prefectures as well.
In the end, the prefecture had accumulated eighty million jin of reserve grain and one hundred thousand taels of reserve silver.
Naturally, every last coin of that money would be kept for the development of Qingjiang Prefecture — not a single wen would go to the Emperor.
The eighty thousand taels I promised you, I have delivered. Beyond that, don't even dream of it.
…
Several carriages drew up to the city gates, and the soldiers on guard came forward to inquire.
The attending servant called out with an air of superiority, "My master is the father of your prefect!"
The guards exchanged a glance — the old master had arrived. They quickly cleared the way for the carriages to pass.
The carriages entered the city, and from both windows of the lead carriage, two aged heads peered out.
"Old Lin, Xuejin has governed this city well. The streets are remarkably clean — not a trace of foul smell."
"Indeed. Xuejin has done a fine job as prefect. No wonder he managed to hand over eighty thousand taels in tax silver to His Majesty."
"Look at the people in the streets — every face bright and lively, laughter everywhere. Truly a rare sight."
The people of the city had, over the past half year or so, lived somewhat better than before, though perhaps not quite as idyllic as the two old men made it sound.
The truth was, they had come from other places where the faces of the people were drawn and haggard.
By comparison, ordinary folk here simply looked cheerful and high-spirited.
"I underestimated him in the past. I thought that given his temperament, rising to prefect would be the ceiling of his career. But now it seems his future holds far greater promise."
"Yes. If Xuejin keeps working hard, once His Majesty weathers this crisis, he is certain to be elevated and given greater responsibilities. Who knows — perhaps one day he will become Chief Minister, a great statesman of his age."
The two old men grew more and more pleased with their son and son-in-law.
Before long, they arrived at the yamen. The guard from earlier had already run ahead with word, and so Lin Xuejin was waiting at the gate.
The two old men were each helped down from their carriages by their attendants, and Lin Xuejin stepped forward and gave a deep bow.
"Xuejin pays his respects to Father, and to Father-in-law."
A father must maintain his dignity, no matter how pleased he is with his son — he gave only a cool, brief sound of acknowledgment.
The father-in-law, however, needed no such restraint. He clapped Lin Xuejin on the shoulder with a broad smile and said warmly, "Xuejin, well done — you have done very well indeed."
After a few brief pleasantries, Madam Lin, who had long been unable to contain herself, stepped forward and seized her father's arm. "Father, I've been frightened half to death — why was there no word at all? Where is Mother? Why didn't she come? And Elder Brother's family — how are they all?"
"We traveled with His Majesty. How could any news be casually let out? Don't worry — everyone at home is safe."
Seeing that his wife's anxiety had eased somewhat, Lin Xuejin said, "Father, Father-in-law, let us go inside and speak."
The party entered the residence. Jinyuan, Mingcheng, and the others were already there.
Lin Xuejin made introductions: "Father, Father-in-law, these are the, ah — subordinates of the remarkable gentleman, Master Zhao, whom I mentioned in my letters."
Lin Xuejin's father cast a dismissive glance at the young men and women before him, then let out a contemptuous snort. "What remarkable gentleman? If he were truly remarkable, if he truly possessed extraordinary abilities, yet gave no thought to loyalty to the sovereign, to serving the nation — a man without sovereign, without father, without loyalty, without righteousness, without shame, without virtue—"
"What the bloody hell, you old hag!"
The moment Lin Xuejin's father began to speak, both he and his wife knew disaster was upon them. The words were already half out — there was no stopping them.
"Jinyuan!" Madam Lin's face went white. She cried out and threw her arms around Jinyuan, pulling her close.
Because both of them knew full well what Master Zhao meant to these children.
He was as a god to them.
It was entirely possible that blood would be spilled today.
"Jinyuan, calm down — calm down. Father, apologize, quickly, apologize—"
Lin Xuejin's father had not expected such a reaction from his daughter-in-law. He stood there, momentarily stunned.
"You old fool, you old bastard, you old idiot! What gives you the right to look down on our master? Just because of that pathetic Emperor you grovel before — the one who got chased out of his own capital like a dog? If he's that pathetic, then you, an old dog groveling beneath his feet, are even more pathetic! What gives you the right to insult our master—!"
It was the first time Lin Xuejin and his wife had ever heard Jinyuan curse — and curse she did, in a torrent.
She had clearly lost all reason.
But they could not blame her. The fault lay entirely with Lin Xuejin's father, whose mouth had spewed such venom that he had brought this calamity upon himself.
A word or two of contempt might have been manageable. But that string of accusations — without sovereign, without father, without loyalty, without righteousness, without shame, without virtue — had gone far too far.
Jinyuan was one thing; after all, she was only a young girl. But there were young men here as well.
With a sharp hiss of steel, Mingwu's face remained utterly blank, his eyes without the slightest flicker of emotion, as he drew a long dagger and walked toward Lin Xuejin's father step by measured step, his stride resolute, a terrifying killing intent radiating from his entire being.
Mingwen and Mingzhen, who had always seemed no more than frail, bookish young men, revealed for the first time the same quality, each drawing their own long dagger and falling in behind Mingwu.
The three formed a natural battle formation, each covering the others' flanks, as though advancing onto a field of war.
Madam Lin was frantic. She screamed, "Stop — Mingwu! Mingzhen! Mingwen! Please, no—!"
Lin Mengxuan and Lin Yunyi stood there in stunned horror, as did everyone else in the room.
Even the two attendants the old men had brought along seemed frozen — or perhaps were feigning stupidity, too afraid to confront the three figures radiating such terrifying intent.
"Mingwu, let me explain." Lin Xuejin lunged forward trying to intervene, but he was, in truth, a frail scholar.
Mingwu brushed him aside with barely a motion, sending him stumbling and falling several meters away.
"How dare you—" Lin Xuejin's father stood there trembling, whether from rage or fear it was impossible to say.
With a sharp crack, Mingwu's open hand struck Lin Xuejin's father across the face and sent him crashing to the ground. One foot came down on top of him, and the long dagger drove toward his face.
Without a moment's hesitation.
"Master Zhao — you're here! What a relief!"
The room went still. Mingwu's dagger hovered mere centimeters from Lin Xuejin's father's eye.
Everyone's reason slowly returned. Mingwu realized he had been tricked — in that moment of clouded judgment, Lin Xuejin had gotten the better of him.
Lin Xuejin pressed a hand to his chest and spoke quickly: "I still have great use to serve for Master Zhao. I can help Taoyuan Town develop rapidly — I have made real contributions to Taoyuan Town's development. For today's events, I will personally go before Master Zhao to beg forgiveness with a rod on my back. Mingwu — give me this one chance."
Mingwu drew a long breath. Yes — Lin Xuejin had served their master well, and would continue to be of great use.
He drew a slow breath, put away the dagger, and stared down at Lin Xuejin's father beneath his foot. "Old dog. You've spent your whole life reading books, and all of it went to the dogs? You don't even understand that disaster comes from the mouth?"
"This is the last time. If I ever hear you insult our master again, I won't just kill you — I will send your son and your grandsons to meet the King of Hell alongside you."
"Do you hear me?"
Lin Xuejin's father said nothing. Whether he was too frightened to speak, or too proud to yield, was unclear.
"Do you hear me?" Mingcheng asked again. Still no answer.
"Answer me!" Mingcheng suddenly dropped down, his face nearly pressed against the old man's, and roared.
"I… hear you…" Lin Xuejin's father was so frightened it felt as though his heart and liver had shattered to pieces.
"Ha. Your spine is exactly as soft as your Emperor master's."
Mingcheng delivered the parting sneer, then rose and walked several paces toward the door. He stopped and turned to Lin Xuejin. "Every service you have rendered — consider it wiped clean."
"Understood… thank you."
Mingcheng raised an eyebrow. "Master Lin, if not for you today, no one here would have escaped with their life."
With that, he walked out at a swift pace — moving quickly so he would not give himself the chance to turn back and finish the old man off after all.
Jinyuan pulled free of Madam Lin's embrace. Without a glance at anyone, her face cold, she walked out.
It was as though all the warmth and friendship that had grown between her and the Lin family over these many months had been erased in an instant.
Zhao Baihui was the one reverse scale in their hearts that must never be touched — touch it, and you died.
The Lin family was still alive today not because Lin Xuejin was a prefect.
But because everyone had come to think of him as one of their own.
Whether that would still be true from this day forward, no one could say.
"Waaah—" Lin Mengxuan finally burst into tears — from fear, and from the feeling that her closest friend had been lost forever because of a single sentence from her grandfather.