Chapter 1923: Where Did the Money Go

Inside the main hall of the ducal residence, a suffocating atmosphere hung in the air. Several household stewards and warehouse keepers knelt in the hall with their heads hanging low, while Wang Yansheng paced before them with a stern face, a sword in hand, an ominous killing aura faintly visible on his aged features.

A fierce tiger was, after all, a fierce tiger—even in old age, when its might was displayed, it still inspired awe in others. Slowly walking to the steward in charge of the accounts, Wang Yansheng drew his sword from its sheath. The smooth blade gleamed with a cold, faint light, exuding an air of danger.

"Speak! Where has my family's money all gone? Has it been secretly embezzled by you thieves?" Wang Yansheng demanded coldly.

Seeing Wang Yansheng's murderous demeanor, the steward nearly wet himself in fright and hastily said, "How would this lowly one dare? Apart from the daily expenses of the entire residence, the remaining balance in the accounts truly is only nine hundred strings of cash!"

"Bullshit!" Wang Yansheng's anger flared at these words. "Do you take me for a fool? Not to mention the annual salary, with all my family's land and properties, how could there be less than a thousand strings of cash left? It must be you internal thieves, making trouble behind my back and lining your own pockets! Tell me, how much have you stolen? Spit it all back out, and I'll grant you a whole corpse!"

"Spare me, Commandery Duke!" Seeing that Wang Yansheng had already raised his sword, the steward completely lost his composure, kowtowing repeatedly while explaining urgently, "This lowly one swears, what I say is true, I dare not deceive you! Every income and expenditure of the residence is recorded in detail in the accounts. This lowly one has absolutely no thieving behavior—please, Commandery Duke, do examine the books!"

"Even if I look at the accounts, will the money come back?" Wang Yansheng glared with wide eyes, furious beyond measure. "Do you think I don't know how cunning you people are? Making a set of false accounts is nothing but a bit of effort and scheming for the likes of you!"

Faced with such an attitude from Wang Yansheng, the steward wore a look of utter grievance and helplessness. He wouldn't look at the accounts, wouldn't listen to explanations—he only wanted money. The steward wasn't the God of Wealth; how could he conjure cash out of thin air? Of course, what filled his heart most was overwhelming terror. Judging by Wang Yansheng's demeanor, this was no act—the sword in his hand was truly one that would kill and drink blood...

"Please, Father, calm your anger and take care of your health!" All three of Wang Yansheng's sons were present at the time, and all had been frightened by his appearance. As the eldest son, Wang Yinghao stepped forward somewhat reluctantly to offer counsel, though his body instinctively kept its distance from the sword.

Hearing this, Wang Yansheng stared coldly at Wang Yinghao and rebuked, "How have you been managing this household? The accounts show such a huge deficit—did you not know? There are thieves in the house, and you were completely unaware..."

A trace of embarrassment flickered across Wang Yinghao's face as he stammered, "I do check the accounts from time to time. Though there are some discrepancies, they're just minor ones that haven't been reconciled yet..."

"So by your account, there's no problem with the books?" Wang Yansheng glared at Wang Yinghao in exasperation. "Then where has all the family's money gone?"

"There are so many people in the household, and expenses are considerable—festivals and holidays, social obligations, plus your assistance to old friends and fellow villagers..."

"You mean to say I've spent all the money myself?" Wang Yansheng fumed. "Outrageous! Do you take me for someone who can't count? How much could I possibly spend in a year?"

"I meant no such thing!" Hearing Wang Yansheng say this, Wang Yinghao hastily denied it, shaking his head repeatedly.

He gave his eldest son a long, deep look, then glanced at his other two sons, who were shrinking their necks—they buried their heads even lower. Reversing his grip on the sword, Wang Yansheng turned and picked up a ledger from the desk, one of the account books, and made a show of flipping through it.

His emotions running high, he failed to hold it steady and it slipped to the floor. Wang Yansheng silently picked it up and quickly scanned through it. Though it was merely one ledger of the ducal residence, the sheer variety of entries and the complexity of the categories were overwhelming—especially for an outsider like Wang Yansheng, whose eyes swam with confusion.

He naturally couldn't understand such "professional" matters, and he was even worse at arithmetic, but he could make out some basic things—expenditures in particular, especially the large-ticket items.

He hadn't even flipped two pages before Wang Yansheng turned his head and demanded, "I won't even mention the servants' monthly wages, nor the allowances for each courtyard—but this 'gifts' category, why is it so large? Over two thousand strings of cash sent out in a single month—are there really that many gifts to give?"

At the question, Wang Yinghao steeled himself and explained, "In the first half of the year, the first two months in particular had many social engagements. It's a matter of reciprocity—gifts had to be sent..."

"For the Seventh Prince's birthday, you actually sent two hundred strings?" Wang Yansheng asked.

Wang Yinghao nodded. "Two hundred strings is nothing—I hear some people sent a thousand, even ten thousand strings!"

"Do you know how much grain two hundred strings can buy!" Seeing this unfilial son's "generous" attitude, Wang Yansheng's anger surged upward. "What of the Seventh Prince? Even for His Majesty's own jubilee, only five strings are permitted. Can he be greater than His Majesty?"

Wang Yinghao muttered, "His Majesty's was a special decree..."

"His Majesty detests nothing more than you people's two-faced behavior!" Wang Yansheng said coldly. Of course, on the surface he was expressing disapproval of such conduct, but in truth, he was still rather pained over his family's money.

"And what about this luminous pearl—valued at five hundred strings! What was it bought for? To light the room? Are there no candles, no charcoal, no oil lamps?" Pointing out another entry, Wang Yansheng demanded.

"The Ninth Prince was about to head south to his fief and was selling off his family property to raise funds. I was present at the time and couldn't refuse out of face, so I bought a luminous pearl. I didn't keep it for personal use—it's in the warehouse..." Wang Yinghao explained.

"The Ninth Prince is going south!" Hearing such an answer, Wang Yansheng demanded furiously, "Then what am I doing here auditing the accounts for?"

The reason this audit had come about was that Wang Yansheng had selected a group of people from among his relatives, retainers, and old acquaintances, preparing to answer Emperor Liu's call to form a company and sail south to the South Seas—supporting the court's strategic colonization while also developing some side businesses for the family.

A poor family must prepare well for travel. Having organized nearly three hundred people, the cost of so many traveling south together was naturally considerable. So Wang Yansheng, with a grand wave of his hand, withdrew twenty thousand strings from the family treasury to cover transportation and serve as seed capital for his "Wang Family Army" to get started in the South Seas.

As it turned out, the steward reported that the treasury was empty—the accounts showed less than a thousand strings, and who knew how much was actually there. The warehouse reserves were also running low. The Commandery Duke's "Great Southern Expedition" had barely begun before it nearly collapsed.

Such a situation was naturally intolerable to Wang Yansheng, and what infuriated him even more was: where had all his money gone? Though he didn't usually manage money, he had a rough idea of his basic income. As a second-rank Commandery Duke, his annual salary in cash and grain was worth about four thousand strings—not to mention the land his household managed, the various businesses, and the spoils he had seized on the battlefield back when he led troops in war...

Though he didn't care much about money these days, in Wang Yansheng's reckoning, even with considerable household expenses, after so many years of accumulation, he should have saved at least fifty thousand strings if not a hundred thousand. And yet, the pitiful, miserable "one thousand strings" deeply stung Wang Yansheng's old but still resolute heart. Back in the day, he had fought desperately and bled on the battlefield for the sake of wealth and honor. Now, honor remained, but wealth was lacking. Wang Yansheng was truly enraged, and truly wanted to kill someone.

However, in this exchange with Wang Yinghao, Wang Yansheng's heart couldn't help but sink. The surging anger seemed to press against his skull, swelling until his head ached, his ears ringing with a dull buzz...

"A set of gold and silver jewelry costs five hundred strings?"

"This little bastard spent three hundred strings on some mongrel mastiff of unknown breeding?"

"What 'divine steed' costs a thousand strings!" Wang Yansheng was already on the edge of losing control, seeming ready to explode at any moment.

At this, Wang Yinghao had something to say, cautiously reminding him, "Father, have you forgotten? Last year a Uyghur merchant came with a Ferghana horse. You were especially taken with it and ordered it purchased at great expense."

"I—" Wang Yansheng, who had been about to explode, felt his voice catch in his throat.

A wave of dizziness flashed through his head. He stumbled back a few steps and plopped down into a seat, Wang Yinghao not even having time to steady him. After a long while, he came back to his senses. Wang Yansheng gazed dazedly at his sons and the stewards, and for an instant, a hallucination took hold—he felt as though they were all laughing at him...