Chapter 192

Late May, the Senior Lord returned from campaign and immediately went to the palace to pay respects, surrendering his military tally and seal. Thus, his role as commander pacifying Jinzhou was fully concluded.

The old emperor was delighted to see the Senior Lord and praised him repeatedly before the court ministers, yet refused to grant any tangible rewards. No promotion or noble title—only gold, silver, jewels, land, estates, servants, and concubines.

Given the Senior Lord's achievements, this reward was utterly inadequate—a clear sign of suppression, barely short of discarding the cart after unloading the grain.

Many court ministers wore strange expressions, seemingly astonished that the Senior Lord had been treated so poorly.

The two chancellors kept their eyes down and their mouths shut; they had long understood the old emperor's intentions and knew full well that the reward given to the Senior Lord was a gross slight.

But it was the old emperor's own decision, so they dared not speak out. All they could do was sigh for the Senior Lord—unlucky fellow, stuck with a foolish sovereign.

Even if you won't grant a noble title, at least promote him to a higher office.

No!

The old emperor refused to grant a title or an office, offering only a pittance of gold and silver to buy him off.

Such stinginess—who will ever fight hard and earn merit again? This doesn't just chill the Senior Lord's heart; it chills the hearts of every general in the realm.

But the old emperor had a different plan.

He withheld rewards from the Senior Lord but generously rewarded the army's officers, playing the game of divide and conquer. The lower-ranking generals had grown too close to the noble families—he was displeased.

He was using the Senior Lord's suppression to warn all generals: if you want promotion and wealth, don't get too close to the noble families. As imperial officers, as long as you do your duty faithfully, the court will never withhold rank or riches. But if you cling too tightly to the nobles, don't blame the court for crushing you.

The Senior Lord understood this meaning all too well, and could not help but feel disheartened.

Over the years, the old emperor had grown increasingly wary of the noble families, no longer valuing them as he once did—what could he do? With the tide turning, he could only follow the emperor's will and retreat to the sidelines. When the old emperor needed him, he served faithfully. When the old emperor didn't, he could only sit at home as a pampered playboy.

Did the noble families accept this?

Of course not!

But it wasn't worth fighting the old emperor over a temporary setback.

The nobles sought lasting dynastic legacy; if the old emperor disdained them, they would simply wait quietly for the new emperor's ascension. The new emperor would surely need their support—and then the nobles would rise again.

In short, everyone shared the same mindset: they didn't care about temporary neglect, only long-term wealth and power.

After receiving his rewards, the Senior Lord requested leave and returned home to drink.

The Hou Fu threw a grand banquet, celebrating for three straight days.

The first two days hosted guests from all quarters; the final day was for family gathering.

Chen Guanlou was invited and arrived at the Hou Fu with a gift in hand.

Master Du was also invited. Having taught at the Hou Fu for years, he was seated at the family banquet—a gesture of favor.

Master Du was very pleased.

Seeing Chen Guanlou, he warmly greeted him.

The two were friends across generations and business partners. Since Chen Guanlou had brought Master Du into the antique and calligraphy trade, Master Du had grown wealthy, his entire demeanor transformed. Once a gloomy, frustrated scholar, he was now Master Du, triumphant and reborn in his second spring.

"Would you like to meet the Senior Lord? In a few days, when he's free, I can arrange an introduction."

"Why would I meet the Senior Lord? He won a battle, yet received no promotion or title—surely he's dissatisfied. To approach him now would only invite humiliation."

Master Du heard this and immediately agreed: "I never imagined the court could be so stingy."

Chen Guanlou snorted. Lowering his voice, he said, "It's not the court that's stingy—it's the old emperor."

"Shh! Don't say such things lightly," Master Du replied, tense and alarmed.

Chen Guanlou smiled again. "Still, the Senior Lord returned from campaign truly wealthy. I saw it myself—the carts carrying his loot stretched for miles. Word is he brought back several beautiful concubines, one even pregnant. The Senior Lord is truly impressive."

Going to war, he made money and fathered children—nothing was missed. Gifts piled up until his hands ached; women arrived until his waist weakened. Worse still, the Senior Lord openly accepted gifts and openly transported them back to the Hou Fu, utterly unafraid of impeachment by censors or punishment from court.

He made his stance clear: I am a corrupt official. Don't ask me to suffer hardship alongside my soldiers—that's impossible. If you dislike it, go ahead and report me. Win the case, and you're the ones who are Lihai.

No court minister would dare use this as grounds to impeach the Senior Lord now. Even the most fiery censors knew such a trivial charge held no weight. Better to accuse him of allowing troops to plunder Chancellor Li's hometown—that would strike harder.

But the Senior Lord had won a decisive victory and captured the rebel's third-ranking leader. With merits outweighing faults, everyone simply gritted their teeth and endured it.

Let's wait until the Senior Lord commits another offense—then we'll settle old and new accounts together.

Indeed, the old emperor used this "merits offset faults" excuse to deny the Senior Lord promotion.

What could the Senior Lord do? He bowed low and said, "Your Majesty is wise! Your humble servant feels unworthy!" Thus the matter was closed, and all pretended to be satisfied.

The Hou Fu's grand banquet served this exact purpose: to show the old emperor that the old minister harbored no resentment—he was overjoyed, hence the three-day feast, money flowing like water. The silver stolen in Jinzhou was now fully contributing to Jingcheng's GDP!

In short, everyone was happy.

Even if they weren't happy, they had to pretend they were.

The only one with legitimate reason to sulk was the First Lady. The Senior Lord returned with so many women—one even pregnant—and she ground her teeth in fury. A man who couldn't control his own flesh? She noted every wealthy magnate from Jinzhou in her little book, vowing revenge when the chance came.

The Second Lady, jealous yet smirking, watched the First House rise and felt her heart ache. Seeing the First Lady's sour face gave her some small comfort.

The Dowager was far more rational: if the First House rose, the Second House must yield, avoiding any confrontation.

One word: endure.

She had endured for decades—what was a few more years?

Rarely, she treated the First House with warmth and courtesy, discussing everything with them. She even reminded the Second Young Mistress that every matter, big or small, required the First Young Mistress's approval before action. From now on, all household affairs would follow the First House's will.

The Second Young Mistress had wanted to push back—but one glance from the Dowager silenced her.

"If the Second House resents this, then have the ability to share the emperor's burdens and serve the court. If you lack that ability, then keep your mouth shut and do your duty. This Hou Fu was always the First House's." The Dowager declared this openly, clearly aiming to flatter the Senior Lord.

The Senior Lord didn't buy any of it.