Chapter 166: Whether Anyone Dies Depends on a Single Word

"Winning the battle is a good thing, a great joy. We should be celebrating, but the court is again quarreling over money. Little Chen, do you know why?"

"I overheard a few words, but not clearly." Chen Guanlou knew full well, but in front of his superior, he could not show off. He must pretend to be foolish, saving his insight for only the crucial moments.

Fan Yucheng was deeply troubled; his face twisted in worry as he spoke earnestly: "The Ministry of Revenue has barely any silver left. It had already promised to backpay the salaries of officials in the capital so they could afford to celebrate the New Year. But now, after the victory in Jinzhou, the soldiers are waiting for imperial rewards—they've worked hard all year and deserve a proper New Year."

Jinzhou has been ravaged by rebels for years and is utterly destitute; the local government simply cannot raise any silver, so they must rely on the court. Everyone knows those frontier troops—calling them soldiers is being generous. If the reward silver doesn't arrive, Jinzhou will suffer again."

Officials from Jinzhou are frantic. They've exerted all their influence to persuade the higher-ups to release the reward silver quickly. But the Ministry of Revenue has no money, and the Emperor refuses to spend his own. So now, the very funds meant to backpay the capital officials' salaries have become a target."

"Little Chen, we've served the court for a full year—no salary, not a single grain of rice. Finally, at year's end, the court shows a bit of mercy, and now someone's trying to steal it. What do you suggest we do?"

Huh?

Chen Guanlou was stunned.

Who was he, that Fan Yucheng would consult him on such a major matter?

This is a joke, right?

But Fan Yucheng's expression didn't look like he was joking.

"What is your lordship's meaning?" he ventured cautiously. Fan Yucheng certainly wasn't sincerely seeking his opinion—there had to be deeper intent. He'd likely already devised a plan and simply needed an executor.

No way.

Are these two using him as a pawn?

Chen Guanlou grew wary, refusing to let his guard slip. He feared that one misstep would land him in a trap—and be buried alive in it.

Li Shiyang stepped forward and cleared his throat. It was now time for him to speak.

"Little Chen, you understand the situation. The lord's view is this: we cannot remain perpetually at the mercy of others. We cannot let unpaid wages and rations become a habit. Once it becomes a habit, it will soon turn into an accepted rule—and once it's a rule, overturning it will be nearly impossible. We understand the higher-ups have no money. But they cannot give us not even a single grain. Without grain, the kitchen cannot cook; the prisoners go hungry. If one or two die, it's no big deal."

Chen Guanlou was speechless—he finally understood their plan.

"Are you trying to force the higher-ups to release grain? Is that appropriate?"

In Chen Guanlou's simple understanding of court politics, a subordinate challenging a superior was a cardinal sin—inviting total retaliation.

"What do you mean by 'force'? Do I have the nerve to pressure the higher-ups? Is this force? Or is it merely stating facts, acknowledging objective hardship?" Fan Yucheng flew into a rage, furious at Chen Guanlou's stupidity—could he not even speak properly?

Chen Guanlou realized his wording was wrong and quickly corrected himself: "Your lordship is right. The Tianlaomiao has no money, no grain—these are objective facts. The granaries are empty, no supply coming in, and everyone will starve. Tianlaomiao is not a vital office, but it is indispensable to the court. Without Tianlaomiao, who upholds the court's laws and dignity? No matter what, we must keep Tianlaomiao running. To run, we need money—and without grain, we cannot run at all."

Fan Yucheng smiled in satisfaction; even Li Shiyang nodded approvingly beside him, silently admiring the sharpness of his words. Tianlaomiao was the bottom line—the final defense of the court's laws and dignity. The mighty Great Qian Dynasty could not exist without a bottom line.

"Little Chen, you speak well. This concerns the court's dignity—we must defend it. But defending it with words alone won't suffice. We need real silver and grain. You're quick-witted, from a distinguished family, and now the Marquis of Pingjiang has just won a victory—he's at the height of his glory. Can this be done? How should we proceed?"

Chen Guanlou: …

He seethed with curses inside, hating the two men before him. They were burning him alive on a pyre. The benefits they offered him were nowhere near enough to make him risk this. And yet—he couldn't refuse outright.

He took a deep breath, suppressing his irritation: "The Jia-class cells seem untouchable."

Fan Yucheng frowned: "If we don't touch the Jia-class cells, how will the higher-ups realize the severity of the problem? How will they understand Tianlaomiao is utterly bankrupt?"

Chen Guanlou opened his mouth: "If we must touch the Jia-class cells, I think we should first gauge the political winds. If we pick the wrong person, everyone risks disaster."

Li Shiyang added: "The person's status mustn't be too high—we can't bear the risk. But it can't be too low either, or we won't have enough leverage. Little Chen, you know the inmates in the Jia-class cells best. Who should we choose?"

They were forcing him into such a massive pit—Chen Guanlou's inner face twisted in agony.

"To get the grain backfilled, we don't necessarily need deaths. Could we find a gentler solution?"

"What gentler solution? If you mean petitioning the court with complaints—it's useless. This year alone, I've appealed over ten times for money and grain for Tianlaomiao. Each time, they brushed me off. The officials in charge pretend it's none of their business and tell us to 'manage on our own.' If we keep 'managing,' the very funds meant for Tianlaomiao will be stolen entirely."

Chen Guanlou frowned in thought: "At year's end, families of imprisoned officials traditionally send food, clothing, and messages into the prison. Perhaps we can use this opportunity to let the outside world know Tianlaomiao's plight."

"Oh? How exactly?"

Chen Guanlou gritted his teeth: "First, let the imprisoned officials go hungry—reduce their meals from two a day to one. Replace meat broth with plain vegetable broth. My point is, quietly spread the news that Tianlaomiao lacks money and grain. Tianlaomiao is powerless, its voice ignored. But among those imprisoned officials, some still have influence. A single word from them carries far more weight than ten from us. No matter what, during the New Year, we can't let the imprisoned officials starve and drink swill."

Fan Yucheng nodded inwardly: "This plan is feasible, though it takes longer. I still believe someone must die. We needn't kill from the Jia-class cells—but we must kill a few from the Yi-class and Bing-class cells. And they must die of starvation."

"Your lordship speaks wisely. If we don't let a few starve to death, the higher-ups won't take this seriously," Li Shiyang agreed.

Chen Guanlou secretly exhaled in relief—at least half the pit had been filled. For the remaining half, let them share the burden—he wouldn't charge ahead alone.