Chapter 165: Strike First to Gain the Advantage

The drum had passed the third watch; the night was as cool as water.

At this hour, save for a very few places in Beijing where songs and music never ceased, most of the city was silent, its banners furled and drums stilled, plunged into pitch-black darkness.

A bleak night wind swept through the deserted streets and alleys.

A few barks of dogs came from afar, drifting through the night sky and startling many from their sweet dreams.

Suddenly, a squad of Brocade Guard Li, wearing round hats, dressed in lan-shan robes, and with long sabers hanging at their waists, trotted with hurried steps across the long street.

Leading them was Han San, his face fierce and filled with rage.

Ever since he became a Thousand-Household, he rarely took action personally.

But today's errand was urgent, as Zhang Yunxiu had personally sent someone to his door to give instructions. He dared not delay, so he immediately grabbed his gear and headed straight for the location of the task.

The sound of the Brocade Guard's footsteps echoed across the street, and now those who had been startled awake could sleep no more. Watching the excitement has been a habit of the Chinese people since ancient times, and now was a time of many troubles.

The Senior Grand Secretary was critically ill.

The entire capital was in a state of nervous apprehension.

In this imperial city, there was deceit and treachery; within the government offices, there was the clash of arms. All who could serve as officials in the capital shared one trait—they loved to fathom the intentions of those above.

Some busybodies would even dig into every crack, wishing they could flip through every single court gazette issued since the Senior Grand Secretary fell ill a hundred times over, then ponder the meaning of each one, determined to divine some imperial intent from them.

Zhang Yunxiu was determined to beat the grass to startle the snake, and thus came this operation by Han San.

The group arrived in a rush before Yangliu Alley on Chongwen Street. Han San halted his steps and gave a sharp wave of his hand; his subordinates behind him all stopped at once.

The place before them was pitch black; Han San ordered his men to light oil lamps.

With the help of the lamp light, one could see that inside the filthy and narrow alley, both sides were densely packed with room doors like prison cages.

The low-hanging roof tiles pressed down on these houses, blocking out any extra light.

"That one," Han San asked.

"Reporting to the Thousand-Household, the fourth one on the left side of the street is the person you are looking for," a Small Banner Officer said respectfully.

Han San did not speak and walked forward quickly, the crowd behind him surging up in a swarm. The group arrived at a narrow, dilapidated small door. Without waiting for Han San to give the order, one man stepped forward and knocked on the door: "Thump, thump, thump."

"Open the door! Open the door!"

A dissatisfied mutter soon came from inside: "Who is it?"

"Street patrol, checking the household registration."

As soon as the words fell, a chaotic sound erupted inside the room, followed by a flurry of footsteps moving from far to near.

"Creeeak."

The gate opened slowly, and half a head poked out from within.

"Are you Wang Dehan? The Warehouse Grand Official of the Ministry of Revenue?" Han San held up an oil lamp to shine on his face and asked.

"It is I." Wang Dehan's eyes stung from the light, and he hurriedly covered his face and replied, "Who are you all? You don't look like the soldiers from the street patrol; why are you looking for me so late?"

"So it really is Warehouse Ambassador Wang," Han San laughed, pushing Wang Dehan as he walked inside.

"Hey, hey, hey, what do you want to do? What do you want to do?" Wang Dehan was carried along by the tide of people, exclaiming repeatedly.

Once they reached the small courtyard, Wang Dehan finally saw the clothing on the men.

Brocade Guards! Ignoring the changing expression on Wang Dehan's face, Han San scanned the area, seeing the courtyard was dilapidated, covered in debris, and filthy and messy.

He grinned and couldn't help but tease: "Warehouse Ambassador Wang, you are, after all, an official with rank in the imperial court; you live in a place like this?" "This ninth-rank official of mine is worth nothing; if you drop a brick anywhere in the capital, you're bound to hit a bunch of Sixth-rank Officials," Wang Dehan said with a self-deprecating look, staring at Han San to explain.

"But I heard that your ninth rank is different. You are the Warehouse Ambassador of the Ministry of Revenue, in charge of the entry of all tribute into the warehouses under heaven. It is said that even if they offered you a position as a Department Director, you wouldn't trade it?" Han San pressed a hand onto Wang Dehan's shoulder, looking at him with a smile.

Although this Warehouse Grand Official of the Ministry of Revenue was only a ninth-rank position, the location was critical and the power was immense.

For local officials in the Great Ming, besides governing their respective regions,

the most important duty was to present the local specialties as tribute to the imperial court. Things like West Lake's pre-Qingming Longjing tea, Jiangxi's Miyun Dragon Tea, Yunnan Dadian's ivory and agate, Yongzhou's Lingling incense, Meizhou's white powder, and Yanzhou's realgar all had to enter the Ministry of Revenue's warehouses first.

Don't look at these Prefects and County Magistrates acting bossy in their local regions; once they arrived in the capital, they all became like spineless cowards. If Wang Dehan was dissatisfied and dragged his feet, refusing to let them enter the warehouse,

well, that was disrespect to the Emperor, so they could just wait to be punished.

Therefore, before these local officials presented their tribute, they would all offer some benefits first.

How could there be any lack of kickbacks in Wang Dehan's job?

As soon as Han San finished speaking, Wang Dehan stretched his neck and argued stubbornly: "My power is bestowed upon me by the Emperor; power is not divided by size, it is all for the sake of doing things for the Emperor. Thousand-Household Han, I cannot agree with your words."

"Yo, so you mean I've wronged you?" Han San feigned surprise and asked in return.

His subordinates behind him burst into loud laughter, looking at Wang Dehan with the eyes one would use for a clown.

Wang Dehan felt uncomfortable being stung by these gazes. He knitted his brows and was about to speak in his defense when Han San suddenly waved his hand and shouted: "Put a hood over his head; I'll let him see the coffin before he sheds his tears!"

Before long, the group hurried to the front of a luxurious residence.

One could see the gate was one and a half zhang wide and one and four-tenths zhang high, made of top-quality redwood, with a large stone lion standing on each side of the entrance.

A tall, grey courtyard wall isolated the inside from the outside, making it impossible to see the specific outlines within.

But just judging from the layout outside the gate, the inside should be quite extraordinary.

As soon as they reached the gate of the residence, Han San ripped the hood off Wang Dehan's head and pointed at the entrance, saying: "Warehouse Ambassador Wang, why don't you take a look here? See if it looks a bit familiar?"

Wang Dehan was dazed; he glanced in the direction of Han San's finger and his mouth twitched in fear.

But he quickly recovered and feigned composure, saying: "Where is this? Could it be your residence, Thousand-Household Han?"

Han San smiled and said nothing; he ordered his men to ram the gate open, then hauled Wang Dehan inside as if he were a chick.

The group arrived at a storeroom, and Han San kicked the door open.

With a flick of his hand, he tossed Wang Dehan inside.

He let out two cries of pain and scrambled up from the ground in a panic.

At this moment, Han San walked in carrying an oil lamp, the faint light spilling across the entire warehouse.

One could clearly see rows of iron-clad chests neatly arranged in the room. Han San looked at Wang Dehan, who had already turned pale with fright, and revealed a smile like a hunter looking at his prey.

He casually pushed aside an iron-clad chest at his side; it was filled to the brim with silver that dazzled the eyes.

"Wang Dehan, explain yourself! Where did all this silver come from?!"

Wang Dehan's lips trembled, and at a loss for what to do, he defended himself repeatedly: "Who, who put so much silver in my storehouse? This must... this must be someone framing me!"

"So now you admit it's your house?!" Han San roared, his face flushed red.

The light inside the room was dim, making Han San's face look exceptionally ferocious.

Wang Dehan covered his face with both hands and crouched on the ground, sobbing bitterly.

(End of this chapter)