Chapter Twenty-Two: The Tense Atmosphere at the County Office

The morning sun after the rain was exceptionally bright, but the clerks and bailiffs arriving for duty at the main gate felt that the atmosphere in the yamen had changed today. It was more solemn and tense than usual.

Zhang Dehai, a clerk in the Revenue Department, deliberately lingered as he passed the bailiffs' duty room. Usually, the bailiffs would be gathered there playing dice and gambling, but today they were all acting with uncharacteristic propriety. Curious, he asked, "Old Liu, what’s going on today? No gambling?"

"The new magistrate has arrived. Don't you know?"

"What? The new magistrate is already here?"

Zhang Dehai noticed that Old Liu, who was usually disheveled, was dressed neatly today, likely hoping to make a good impression on their new master.

Hurrying toward his own office, Zhang Dehai noticed that everyone on the path moved with haste, offering only the briefest of nods to acquaintances. The heavy, nervous atmosphere made his heart race.

"Master Zhang!"

Hearing his name, Zhang Dehai turned to see a young man running toward him. The sunlight hit the boy’s face, causing the acne on his skin to glisten with a reddish sheen.

"Dashan? Don't call me 'Master.' I’m older than you, just call me Brother Zhang." Zhang Dehai quickly hushed him, fearing others might overhear and take offense.

"Right, Brother Zhang. Are we still going to the countryside today? I heard from my squad leader yesterday that we’re supposed to continue the 'village clearing' campaign."

The so-called "village clearing" involved sending clerks and most of the bailiffs to various villages to intimidate the "unruly commoners" and stir up momentum for land tax collection.

"Whether we go or not depends. The magistrate has arrived—didn't you know?" Zhang Dehai asked.

Xu Dashan nodded. "I know. My squad leader mentioned it as soon as he got here."

"Wait another hour. Whether we go depends on what the Department Head says." Zhang Dehai guessed that the Department Head must be in a state of chaos and likely had no time to worry about rural affairs.

Entering the Revenue Department, the atmosphere was oppressive. The three-room office was piled high with documents, with staff huddled like ants and runners darting back and forth. Zhang Dehai peeked into the adjacent room to look for Department Head Wu, but it was empty.

"Hey, where is our Department Head?" he asked a colleague.

"He was summoned to the main hall first thing this morning. I heard he’s assisting the new magistrate with a audit of the treasury..."

As he spoke, Zhang Dehai saw the Department Head walk in. His eyes were vacant, his expression hollow, like a walking corpse. He ignored everyone and retreated into his private office. Zhang Dehai and his colleague exchanged a look, filled with uneasy speculation.

Inside the private office, Wu Yin slumped into his chair and spread out the papers on his desk. To him, these were no longer just numbers. Each figure had transformed into a lethal blade, stabbing directly at his heart.

"How could the Magistrate possess such god-like intuition? How did he manage to sift through these complex ledgers overnight and pinpoint these exact discrepancies? It was all done so meticulously, with every item properly accounted for—how could he have uncovered it?" Wu Yin was completely baffled. Yet, these cold, hard numbers could easily cost him his life. The longer he sat, the colder he felt; his hands and feet grew icy as if his very life force were being drained away.

"Wu Yin, the Magistrate wants to see you. Come with me."

After sitting in a daze for who knows how long, someone finally called for him. He looked up to see the attendant who had been by the Magistrate's side the day before. Like a man walking to his final judgment, he stood up, his legs trembling as he followed Hu Changshan. By the time he reached the inner hall, his back was drenched in cold sweat, soaking through his official robes.

The Magistrate, dressed in a round-collared robe with a mandarin duck rank badge, sat in an official armchair, eyes closed in meditation. In the quiet room, Wu Yin could only hear the pounding of his own heart. Finally, his legs gave way, and he collapsed to the floor.

"Department Head Wu, I heard you are a scholar. Why are you kneeling?" An Xin finally opened his eyes, his gaze locking onto the man on the floor.

"Magistrate, this student is guilty!" Wu Yin kowtowed, weeping.

An Xin felt no pity for him. He asked lightly, "What is your crime?"

"This student deliberately falsified the accounts; that is the first crime. I embezzled silver; that is the second. I attempted to deceive the Magistrate; that is the third." Wu Yin dared not look up.

"Tell me, where did this money go?" An Xin asked.

"In September of this year, it was supposed to be the departure period for the former Magistrate, Cui Maogong. In July, we collaborated with the Tax Bureau to collect a round of commercial taxes, and four thousand taels of that went into Magistrate Cui’s hands. It was all recorded in installments. The plan was to invent a reason for another commercial tax collection in two months, before Magistrate Cui left, to balance the books. But who would have thought..."

"Who would have thought Magistrate Cui would die in office," An Xin finished for him. He then asked, "And the money?"

An Xin was desperate to recover those funds; otherwise, he would be the one stuck cleaning up this mess. Being a magistrate was harder than he had imagined. Between the six departments and the bailiffs, there were seven or eight hundred people relying on the county's finances. Then there were offices like the Tax Bureau—the monthly expenditures were astronomical. On top of that, as a newly appointed official, custom dictated he send gifts to the prefectural and provincial authorities. He also needed to grease the wheels of the imperial court and, at the very least, try to establish a connection with his former mentor to solidify his position and seek opportunities for advancement. Then there were the inevitable "ice gifts" and "charcoal gifts" for his superiors.

"Replying to the Magistrate, Magistrate Cui’s family returned to their hometown in July. I suspect... I suspect they took the money with them." After saying this, Wu Yin buried his forehead into the floor.

"Damn it!" An Xin cursed inwardly. He had looked into Cui Maogong while reviewing the files last night; the man came from the powerful Cui clan of Jian'an, and a member of that same clan was currently the Vice Minister of the Ministry of Revenue. He couldn't afford to provoke them yet.

"You may go."

With that light dismissal, neither condemning him nor promising leniency, Wu Yin left the hall in a state of anxious trepidation.

An Xin watched his stumbling back with a cold expression. This man could be thrown into prison at any moment; having his life and death in his hands meant he would be more obedient. He would use him for now and deal with him later.

He closed his eyes and began to brainstorm ways to raise money. Gambling dens, martial arts halls, weaving workshops, the docks, bandits... he had it!

An Xin suddenly opened his eyes, stood up, and walked outside.

"Master!" Hu Changshan immediately fell in step behind him.

An Xin couldn't help but look at him. This morning, the man had shaved off his bushy beard, revealing a youthful face in his early twenties, with a sense of integrity in his brow.

"The new look suits you," An Xin praised.

"Thank you, Master!" Hu Changshan beamed. He had felt that as the Magistrate's personal attendant, he could no longer dress like a rough wanderer, so he had changed into a refined lake-blue outfit and shaved his beard, making him look much more refreshed.

As An Xin walked down the path, passing the Six Departments, Zhang Dehai and Xu Dashan, who were still discussing the village trip at the entrance of the Revenue Department, froze as they saw the Magistrate walk by in his seventh-rank official robes.

"That looks like the man from Nanzhou Village yesterday!"

"I think I even reprimanded him!"

"I extorted two taels of silver from him!"

The two exchanged a look, feeling as if they were sitting on pins and needles, gripped by profound anxiety.