Chapter 143: Shocking Imperial Scandal (1)

About sixty to seventy li northwest of Dunhuang County lies Xinghu Po (now Hala Lake), covering roughly seventy square kilometers; from a distance the misty waters stretch endlessly, with no end in sight. Yet, like the medicinal spring (now Crescent Moon Spring), this place is a low‑lying depression where an underground river surfaces, not a confluence of rivers.

Consequently the lake is extremely shallow, less than a meter deep, and earthen mounds protrude above the water everywhere.

In the past two years the Tang army abandoned its beacon towers and set up a market here, permitting Shazhou civilians and Western Hu traders to conduct business. Thus the shores of Xinghu Po have shown a grotesque prosperity unlike that of ordinary places.

If you put a nice spin on it, it's a market; if not, it's a bona‑fide black market!

The Great Tang offers nothing here, collects no taxes, and gives no security guarantees; it merely permits caravans to draw water from Xinghu Po and occasionally patrols, otherwise leaving it alone.

As days passed, ordinary folk stopped daring to trade here, while horse bandits, thieves, and Tubo troops masquerading as caravans began to intervene, gathering here from time to time to conduct business.

Whether the deals are legitimate or not, the Shazhou border troops, the Doulu army, act as if they saw nothing—no questions, no intervention, only responsible for collecting the dead.

Today, however, the situation is unusual: two unusually large caravans are trading here, and everyone else cannot approach, not even to watch from afar.

Under a massive parasol, two young men with slightly dark skin sit opposite each other negotiating. One is in his twenties; the other, though tall, has a somewhat childish face, looking no older than thirteen or fourteen.

The silk canopy is overlaid with gold leaf; from a distance its style is vulgar yet luxurious, exuding the air of a nouveau‑rich, and unmistakably attests to its owner's identity. Throughout the Hexi Corridor, only this person possesses such a parasol.

That person is the famed Hexi Qilin Son, the renowned Shazhou Governor Fang Chongyong!

"This time I've brought some fine goods for you to see. A Sheng, give them a proper show."

Dressed in a cool hemp garment from Kui Prefecture, Fang Chongyong clapped his hands twice and whispered to the man beside him, Zhang Guangsheng.

"Very well, my lord, watch me show them a trick!"

Zhang Guangsheng deftly retrieved some odd items from the box and assembled them.

It was a 'big pot' resembling the satellite dish Fang Chongyong owned in a past life, its concave surface lined with thin copper sheets polished smooth and flat. At its center stood a slender iron rod, topped by a circular iron tray.

Zhang Guangsheng boiled a kettle of water in Xinghu Po, placed the iron kettle onto the tray, and left it.

"This pot, when placed under the sun, can heat water and cook rice by itself. I call it the self‑burning pot, twenty guan each—doesn't seem pricey, does it?"

Fang Chongyong smiled and asked. At this moment he no longer bore the naiveté of his youth; his healthy, wheat‑colored skin radiated vigor and heroism.

"Good or bad depends on whether it works, not on your foul mouth declaring it good."

The speaker is the Tubo army commander Enlan Dazalu Gong! He is a Tubo Zhanpu‑directly‑subordinate elite guard officer who monitors Sun Boju Zhulang Meise in the Su Bi region. To ordinary people his presence here seems odd; in reality, it is not odd at all.

Because the Great Tang and Tubo have been in a cease‑fire for over three years, trade between them now flows continuously, as if the war of old never happened.

However, military‑to‑military trade cannot be conducted openly, so both sides must transact here at Xinghu Po under the guise of black‑market merchants.

Enlan Dazalu Gong, as the Tubo side's liaison, has been dealing with Shazhou Governor Fang Chongyong for three years; the two know each other well.

"Old Ma, you're a stubborn duck even when dead. A Sheng, is it ready? Don't keep Old Ma waiting so anxiously!"

Fang Chongyong gave Enlan Dazalu Gong a Chinese name, Ma Chongying. Well‑versed in Chinese studies, Enlan Dazalu Gong found the name fitting and gladly accepted it, also presenting Fang Chongyong with a fine Tubo blade; the two then regarded each other as 'brothers of different surnames.'

The blade is called the Swift Wind Illusion Blade!

Its naming is very Tubo‑style; it is Enlan Dazalu Gong's beloved sword, never leaving his side.

Everything in Tubo is rather 'crude,' except their naming and story‑craft, which can be overly cheesy. Throwing characters and tales from Tubo classics into Fang Chongyong's past‑life 2D ape setting feels not at all out of place.

This sword belongs to Tubo's 'Gu Si Blade' line; its blade bears silver patterns, razor‑sharp enough to cut hair, and is now one of Fang Chongyong's sidearms.

"Alright, alright, it's almost done."

Zhang Guangsheng stared at the self‑burning pot, and soon noticed the kettle's lid bubbling!

Is that it...?

Enlan Dazalu Gong was taken aback; after three years of dealings he knows Fang Chongyong is formidable and adept at producing novel gadgets. Yet a pot that burns itself under the sun is truly unheard of!

Fang Chongyong pulled a small paper packet from his chest, poured the crushed tea leaves inside into Enlan Dazalu Gong's white porcelain cup. Zhang Guangsheng then poured the freshly boiled water into the cup, and the aroma of tea quickly filled the air.

Self‑burning pot, tea that needs no boiling!

Enlan Dazalu Gong felt astonished inside, but his face remained impassive.

"Esteemed brother, aren't you afraid I, a Tubo general, will appropriate this technique?"

Enlan Dazalu Gong took a sip of tea and asked with a sigh.

"Technology is learned mutually; Shazhou also studies Tubo techniques. A man should strengthen himself, and a nation likewise."

Fang Chongyong smiled confidently and said.

Enlan Dazalu Gong was silent for a long while, then sighed, "If a worthy brother stays in Shazhou for a day, Tubo will not send troops into Hexi."

"Back then I defended Shazhou; Old Ma, you attacked Shazhou, and we were only a night away from meeting on the battlefield. How can we make that statement credible?"

Fang Chongyong asked with a laughing scold.

Enlan Dazalu Gong forced a wry smile, waved his hand, and said, "Brother, better not speak of it. In that battle I nearly died in Gua Zhou, and the Shazhou border troops almost left Sun Boju Zhulang Meise in Chang Le County. All the eastern districts of the Su Bi region were devastated, and have yet to recover their vitality."

"May we never meet again on the battlefield, Old Ma."

Fang Chongyong crossed his arms, bowed, lifted his tea cup and said, "Replacing wine with tea, I wish you a smooth journey, Old Ma."

Enlan Dazalu Gong was about to, for his merit in overseeing Sun Boju, return to Lhasa and receive the Zhanpu's investiture. However, he obtained these through brazenly trading contraband with the Great Tang that others could not acquire.

Of course, this trade is mutually beneficial; Shazhou also obtained many local specialties from Tubo, such as finely crafted gold and silver vessels, golden masks, gem‑inlaid artworks, and so on.

Fang Chongyong used these items to accomplish many deeds advantageous to the Hexi region.

There are no eternal enemies, only eternal interests; this saying is truly an unshakable truth. Even between Tubo and Great Tang border towns, when not at war, they can trade privately, with no taboo on mutual benefit.

"We take this batch of crushed tea leaves and these self‑burning pots.

From now on I will try to dispatch them southeastward; they should no longer appear on the Hexi frontier.

There are no fathers or sons on the battlefield, let alone brothers. Should I unfortunately meet a worthy brother in the future, I will show no mercy."

Enlan Dazalu Gong raised his tea cup and drained it in one gulp.

Tubo nobles are strange—humble yet brutal. If they regard you as a person, they will respect you; if not, they will be cruel. Such contradictory behavior often appears in the same individual.

Tubo mercilessly exploit the captured Great Tang border townspeople, showing no compassion; they are demoted to slaves without question, and the wounded or elderly are slain outright, with brutal methods.

Yet toward the Great Tang elite they often act humbly, extending excessive courtesy—sometimes even reversing host and guest—to senior Tang generals, especially those skilled in battle.

An extreme binary, abstract to the point of being indescribable.

Fang Chongyong sensed no barbarism or bloodshed from Enlan Dazalu Gong; instead he found him courteous, plain‑spun, steadfast, true to his word, and observant of reciprocal etiquette.

However, he also knew that the Tibetan nobles' courtesy toward him was merely because of his identity and the abilities he had demonstrated—it did not mean they were any good sort of people.

To say nothing of other Tibetan nobles, Enlan Dazalugong himself was no tender-hearted sort. Enlan Dazalugong had personally ordered the execution of a thousand Uyghur captives and reduced an entire ten-thousand-strong tribe to slaves!

This made the Uyghurs terrified out of their wits, forcing them to cling desperately to the Great Tang's thick thigh.

With a figure like this, who was both enemy and friend, Fang Chongyong always stayed on the highest alert and dealt with him with extraordinary care.

"Asheng, hand over the goods to Old Ma's people, same old rules."

Fang Chongyong instructed Zhang Guangsheng, then poured tea for Enlan Dazalugong.

The latter smiled and said nothing.

Soon, Zhang Guangsheng came over, leaned close to Fang Chongyong's ear, and said in a low voice: "The Tibetans' goods are twenty percent more. Do we take them or not? We can't break the rules—if word gets out, it'll harm your reputation, Commissioner."

More? How was that possible?

Fang Chongyong looked at Enlan Dazalugong with a puzzled expression, not knowing what play the man was staging.

"A parting gift for you, my worthy brother. I'll speak plainly—this is nothing but generosity at others' expense, a petty little trick to weaken Sunboru. Just keep it, worthy brother.

It's the last time anyway, so do with it as you please."

Enlan Dazalugong said indifferently, a smile on his face.

So this was Sunboru's military funds! You really know how to play the game, you bastard!

Fang Chongyong suddenly understood—even at the moment of departure, he still had to screw over Ruzhu Lang Meise. Enlan Dazalugong truly stopped at nothing. This being the case, it was probably only a matter of time before the Tsenpo launched a military campaign against the Supi region to subdue the defiant.

Sure enough, every house had its own headaches—the Tibetan court had a pile of crap under its rear end too!

"Then I would be remiss to decline."

Fang Chongyong cupped his hands in a salute, and after speaking, instructed Zhang Guangsheng to tally and hand over the goods. He traded various small trinkets produced in Shazhou—such as self-brewed liquor and directly steepable tea leaves—for the Tibetans' gold, silver, and other valuables.

After the handover was complete, Fang Chongyong felt a surge of emotion in his heart.

Three years had passed!

Li Longji, that dog of an emperor, had actually left him, a mere child, in Shazhou for three years!

If not for having lived two lifetimes, he truly would not have been able to handle the endless variety of bizarre situations in Shazhou.

How could that dog of an emperor do such a thing! Even a dog wouldn't do this, would it?

Fang Chongyong watched Enlan Dazalugong lead his entourage away, all the while cursing Li Longji in his heart for being utterly outrageous!

From acting commissioner to official commissioner, his term extended from one year to three—now that his term was up and he was required to return to the capital to report on his duties, where should he go from here?

Fang Chongyong's mind was in utter turmoil.

"Commissioner Fang, the brothers are all talking about this year's dividends..."

Zhang Guangsheng walked over and said in a low voice, without batting an eye.

"As usual."

Fang Chongyong uttered two words, as sparing of speech as if ink were gold.

"Ah, good, good!"

Zhang Guangsheng was overjoyed. In truth, no one was worried that Fang Chongyong wouldn't pay the dividends—they were only a bit worried that once his term ended, he would leave right away!

If Commissioner Fang left, what would become of the rules in Shazhou, and even the entire Hexi?

This was the question hanging over everyone's hearts.

What Fang Chongyong had done over these three years was enough for Li Longji to kill him a thousand times over! He had merely used every method to smooth things over for the five Hexi prefectures—from Hexi Military Commissioner Wang Xui down to the common soldiers—keeping everything tucked away tight and tidy.

Officials great and small who died of "suicide" as a result numbered no fewer than several dozen, each case closed hastily without stirring the slightest ripple.

Yet the ironic thing was that the five Hexi prefectures, their treasuries brimming and wealth abundant, with officials governing their domains effectively, became more prosperous than ever and sought aid from the central court less frequently—much to the Emperor's delight.

The local chief officials were commended by the court year after year, and local officials received frequent promotions.

These promoted officials, in turn, continued to frantically run cover at court to conceal Hexi's mess, forming an airtight chain of interests.

Fang Chongyong himself, at the very center of the storm, ranked dead last among the commissioners of the five Hexi Corridor prefectures, receiving a "Fair" evaluation every single year—a stark contrast to everyone else's "Superior."

Shazhou, a key location, likewise ranked dead last in the assessments of the five Hexi prefectures, also receiving "Fair" every year, crying "drought" annually to request relief funds from the court.

The Doulu Army, the key executor, likewise ranked dead last among the Hexi military forces in assessments, also receiving "Fair" every year, fighting bandits in the border garrisons year after year, with banditry running rampant year after year.

As the "man in charge" who should have taken the largest cut, Fang Chongyong not only failed to pocket a single copper coin in kickbacks, but instead accumulated the dividends grain by grain into a tower, establishing a "fund" to provide interest-free loans at no cost to military families who had lost their breadwinners to the ravages of war.

In other words, he was simply a steward drawing a commissioner's salary, responsible for making connections, standing as guarantor, and calling the shots on ideas.

Other than that—nothing at all!

Fang Chongyong had no quid pro quo, no corruption, no embezzlement of public funds—he was clean from top to bottom.

As for where his fine brocade garments came from, in Fang Chongyong's own words, they were all "work clothes"! He merely "borrowed them to wear"—he had only the right of use, not ownership.

Fang Chongyong deeply understood the principle of "he who desires nothing stands firm"—as long as he took no personal cut, everyone who did take a cut would spontaneously do everything in their power to protect him!

Because the moment he died, Hexi's secrets would explode; the moment he died, there would never again be found a selfless key figure who could coordinate the interests of all parties and be trusted by everyone.

Put another way, in the five Hexi prefectures today, you might not know who the Hexi Military Commissioner was; but if you didn't know who the "Hexi Qilin Lad" was, then you'd better go home and farm honestly—this golden trade route wasn't for you.

……

The group returned to the small city of Shazhou without stirring any ripples. As Fang Chongyong walked into the rear courtyard of the prefectural office, he felt a fragrant breeze rush toward him.

"This spice is really pungent—almost like that Dior perfume stuff."

Fang Chongyong couldn't help muttering a quip, but Anaye before him pretended not to hear and leapt directly onto him, clinging tightly and refusing to let go.

The two kissed fiercely beneath the poplar tree. Anaye's snow-white skin, set against Fang Chongyong's red-black, explosively powerful complexion, carried a bewitching beauty.

This scene was like Beauty and the Beast!

"Did you miss me?"

After a long while, Anaye stared with her glistening large eyes, licked her lips, and asked with a feigned pout.

"Come on, let's go to the bedroom and have a proper chat."

Fang Chongyong said without changing expression, scooped up the now curvaceous, slim-waisted, long-legged Anaye into his arms, and strode off.

Soon, a suppressed panting sound came from the bedroom, it was Anaye's.

Since half a month ago, when the two opened that door, things have escalated uncontrollably. However, Fang Chongyong was very careful, not letting Anaye lose her virginity.

Having a child is really too early for her. Although aristocratic youths marry young, they are very considerate of the woman's age when consummating the marriage, and Fang Chongyong is the same; although Anaye is merely his concubine.

Such 'virginal women' like the newly appointed Princess of Longevity are not uncommon among Tang aristocratic families. These powerful households show no pity for the lower classes, yet they cherish their own people.

In the private space, the two explored the mysteries of life, feeling that their souls had been sublimated.

There was also the unrestrained joy, like a wild horse.

At the moment when the flames were raging, Fang Dafu walked over, knocked on the bedroom door, and said in a low voice: "My lord, the court has sent a censorate inspector; it seems they come with ill intent!"

"Censorate inspector?"

Fang Chongyong pushed open the door, tidied his clothes, and asked doubtfully. Logically speaking, the censorate inspector should arrive in West River next month, as in previous years; why has he come early this year?

Fang Chongyong felt that this matter was definitely suspicious.

Fang Dafu took out a handkerchief and helped him wipe the red lipstick mark off his face.

Seeing his disheveled appearance, Fang Dafu teased:

"Anaye knew you were coming back today, so she deliberately dressed up and even stained her lips. Nowadays, the men of West River who lust after her could line up and circle Sand Prefecture City several times. My lord, why not put aside that Lady Wang, marry Anaye, and then settle down in West River?"

"You're not unaware of these troublesome matters, so why ask again?"

Fang Chongyong sighed helplessly.

Nowadays, no woman is blind; good things are definitely clung to tightly. That Lady Wang is no simple character to get along with; their relationship is already set in stone!

Fang Chongyong lamented that a life with many wives and concubines would probably be difficult; Anaye is likely to be his first and last concubine.

"Lead the way, let's go meet that censorate inspector."

Fang Chongyong ordered Fang Dafu.

Come on, cast your votes.

(End of chapter)