Chapter 51: Blade and the Blade-Wielding Ghost

The originally harmonious and warm riverbank was torn open a gap by this shout.

Du Shanü jerked her head up, only to see the man already stumbling past several mills and heading toward the next village.

The people in the mills panicked, dropping their work and running out.

Flour was spilled, millet scattered, and the soy milk in the child's hand was half-spilled from being knocked.

The child didn't know what happened, whimpering from fright, yet now no one paid him any attention.

The young woman dressed like a lady didn't go to hold the child, merely trembling her voice, looking left and right, repeatedly asking:

"Who just shouted?"

"Wasn't it said earlier that this season we wouldn't collect the grain tax? I've already sold the new rice at home!"

The old man beside her also said:

"Exactly! Weren't they saying they wouldn't collect it before? Besides, the previous county magistrate had only died a few days ago—how could there suddenly be a new county magistrate?"

He is old and well-informed.

After all, he knows a few tricks.

Logically, after a county magistrate dies, it takes at least a few months to appoint a successor, and if the journey is far, many people are delayed years before taking office!

Now we see that the county magistrate who originally said he would collect taxes is dead!

How come another life‑taking county magistrate has shown up!

The villagers clamored, and someone in the crowd shouted:

"We are many; let's go to the county office and ask!"

"Under heaven, what sense is there in levying taxes like this? If each male adult had to pay an extra ten or twenty catties, we might accept it—but now it's one stone! One stone!"

One stone equals a hundred catties!

Although this place is in the south with abundant produce, a stone of grain tax is already a lot!

Know that in a year of flood, locust plague, or other bad weather, even one mu of land might not yield ten catties of grain!

This one‑stone‑per‑person tax is nothing short of demanding lives!

As soon as someone spoke up, a reckless man immediately followed:

"Right! Let's go ask! Officials' lives are lives—aren't ordinary commoners' lives counted as lives too?"

"What one‑stone‑per‑person! I think this magistrate has gone mad! Had I known the officials of this false dynasty were stupider than pigs, they should have been sent to the front lines long ago to fight the barbarians!"

"Exactly! Even though the Young Emperor lost the old capital, he fought the barbarians to the last soldier and never raised taxes! Only a few years have passed—this pack of false‑dynasty beasts have forgotten who they are! Don't think we don't know: that dog emperor collects our taxes and surely offers them as tribute to the barbarian emperor!"

"What 'son‑emperor father emperor'! I see him as a pig‑headed emperor!"

On the bank, the clamor continued unabated; several young men shouted the loudest, their faces red and necks thick, looking as if they wanted to rush straight to Jinling, drag the emperor from the fields, and give him a sound thrashing!

Seeing the young men about to leave, the short old man stepped forward to stop them and shouted:

"Just let you curse a few lines if you want—after all, everyone here are fellow villagers, they won't inform on you. Do you really intend to go demand justice?!"

Not to mention that nowadays commoners have no reason to contend with officials; even when the most remonstrance‑accepting Taizong was still alive, the officialdom was an imposing presence.

For ordinary commoners, the county office's steps are so high, its vermilion‑lacquered wooden door so large, its bright signboard so conspicuous...

Not to mention entering; merely walking past the street beside the county office makes one's stature involuntarily shrink, so one dare not even lift one's head.

Now saying we should go demand justice—what justice?

If there really were justice, would the government still be adding taxes?!

This reasoning is simple, yet it presses so hard people can't catch their breath.

The previously restless crowd was as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over their heads, instantly calming down.

The old man sighed and said:

"Don't make a fuss—hurry back and gather grain... gather as much as you can; even if you can't meet your own share, you must at least put together your children's portion."

If you can't gather enough grain, the worst that can happen is being seized for corvée labor.

But if the children can't gather enough grain...

The people lowered their heads in dejection, shouldered their belongings, and each went their separate ways.

The cart‑pusher who had originally come to exchange grain was already stunned; he had traded several sacks of grain for some lime water and vermicelli, but now, gritting his teeth and thickening his face, he shuffled back to the mill, humbly asking whether he could get it back.

There's no logic in this world for taking back something you've sold!

Ouyang An, being young and undecided, looked left and right for someone—

"Father," not present.

Leitie, forging iron.

A Chou, doing chores at home.

Yu Hen, probably sleeping.

Chinu...... I dare not even look for him!

Looking east and west, Ouyang An finally locked eyes with Du Shanü across the bank.

Du Shanü nodded at the little brat across from her; Ouyang An then broke into a smile, showing two cute little tiger teeth, agreed to the matter, and immediately went to get the exchange done.

Du Shanü withdrew her gaze, once again met Chinu's eyes, fell silent for a moment, then advised:

"Don't kill him; the world's fools are endless to slay."

"I have another idea...... go tell Chen Weifang that he once refused me, leaving me unhappy; this time, if I am to change my mind, you must help me do one more thing."

Chinu's brows twitched slightly, showing he was quite interested.

Du Shanü pondered and said:

"One stone per person is truly outrageous. If this really is the added tax, likely half the people in the county couldn't pay it."

"If I'm not mistaken, this tax either is the court deliberately forcing males into corvée, or else someone is lining their pockets by inflating the tax...... have Chen Weifang mediate, grab a handle, and lower the tax."

"This time, I don't care whether he's a poisonous strategist or what method he uses—I must see this through."

Du Shanü weighed the instructions, lifted her eyes and glanced, only then discovering that in Chinu's eyes—always enigmatic and hard to fathom—there faintly lay a trace of a smile almost impossible to detect.

Her thoughts turned slightly, and Du Shanü completely understood—

She knew.

Perhaps, Chinu had known from the beginning.

No one could be clearer about state affairs than Chinu, who once was the top of the world, and...... how much grain a county could actually levy.

He previously didn't know Chen Weifang was here, so naturally he chose a more convenient and quick method.

And now, Du Shanü chose the second path.

Du Shanü understood in her heart, did not speak again, merely smiled at the other party, and Chinu also smiled.

Neither of them spoke, but at this moment it seemed as if they both heard the other silently curse, "Old fox."

Du Shanü clicked her tongue repeatedly in her heart, for the first time feeling somewhat uncertain about the road ahead—

Too full of personality.

Not only is it calculating with a flick of the fingers, the inscrutable Chinu...

Chen Weifang, the Ouyang father and son, and even A Chou, who refuses to change his principles, are all too full of personality.

It is not simply "I acknowledge you as my lord and will therefore be utterly loyal," but rather "Each person is a living being and will make decisions according to their own character."

These people, if used well, are all good blades.

If used poorly...

Chinu stepped back one step:

"Alright, then what about you?"

Du Shanü's thoughts were churning, and she casually said:

"Me? I'm waiting for Ouyang Yan to find me mourning clothes; I want to observe mourning for that damned father who abandoned his wife and children."