Chapter 244: Worthless Trash

The old emperor frowned as he leafed through the memorials.

The content was nearly identical—each urged that the Pingjiang Marquis lead the army on a second campaign against the bandits. Why waste a capable commander already at hand? If you summon someone else now and he fails, the court's face will be lost, and the old emperor will share the shame.

The safest choice is still the Pingjiang Marquis.

The old emperor half-closed his eyes, as if muttering to himself, or perhaps asking Qiu Defu, "All the same tone. Did you all plan this together?"

Qiu Defu dared not speak. He observed closely, unable to gauge the old emperor's true thoughts.

Not receiving a reply, the old emperor snorted coldly: "Go summon Jiang Tu—no, summon Yu Zhaoan. I have questions for him."

Qiu Defu bowed low and promptly ordered his adopted son to fetch Yu Zhaoan. Yet internally he wondered: Could Yu Zhaoan replace Jiang Tu? Yu Zhaoan still had some dignity—he flattered the old emperor with subtlety, unlike Jiang Tu's blatant sycophancy. But Yu Zhaoan seemed incapable of amassing wealth!

The old emperor valued Jiang Tu most for his ability to rake in money and take the blame. Called a traitor to the nation, he still labored tirelessly to squeeze out every copper.

Probably, Yu Zhaoan still lacks the power to replace him—for now.

What a pity!

He longed for Jiang Tu to fall from favor, to be thrown into prison, never to rise again.

…

Hou Fu.

The Master was in excellent spirits, deeply absorbed in painting.

The Chief Steward slipped in quietly from outside, his expression grave.

The Master glanced at him, then said calmly, "I'm tired today. Everyone, withdraw. Attend to my robes."

The Chief Steward stepped forward personally to assist, dismissing all maids and servants, and the guests likewise took their leave with good sense.

Within twenty paces of the study, not even a fly could be found.

This was a sign of serious matters to be discussed. All servants near the Master knew this well—they dared not inch closer to eavesdrop. To be caught meant death.

"A letter arrived from the west!" The Chief Steward whispered as he helped the Master change his robes.

Hm.

The Master half-closed his eyes, silent.

The Chief Steward pulled out a sealed wax capsule from his inner pocket and presented it with both hands.

The Master took it, crushed the wax, and extracted the secret letter.

"Bring me a copy of 'Fengyue.'"

The Chief Steward fetched the book from the shelf and laid it open on the desk.

The Master cross-referenced the book to decode the letter. After reading, he lit it directly with the candle flame, watching until it turned to ash. Still uneasy, he poured a cup of tea over the ashes and ground them into pulp.

"Any orders, my Lord?" the Chief Steward whispered.

The Master's brow had been furrowed, but now he burst into laughter. "I once thought the Prince of Cheng was a stubborn fool. But one failure has taught him well—he's finally willing to listen."

The Chief Steward was baffled.

The Master sat in his rocking chair. "A pawn I moved long ago has yielded an unexpected boon. Too bad the other pawn has remained idle—too timid."

"Are you referring to the Prince of Cheng?" the Chief Steward ventured.

The Marquis chuckled, his expression full of disdain. "A worthless piece of trash. Wasted a good mouth—his head is full of straw."

Was this the Prince of Cheng's evaluation?

"I even pointed him toward a path to wealth. Waste of my good intentions! Enough. Never bother with him again."

The Chief Steward stood silently, hands at his sides.

The Master closed his eyes, pondering a moment, then asked: "Has the Second Master been in contact with Yu Zhaoan all along?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Tell the Second Master to place heavy bets on Yu Zhaoan."

"Is it wise to entrust this to the Second Master? Shouldn't I represent you directly…?"

The Master raised a hand to cut him off. "No. Let the Second Master handle it. I don't want to touch that loudmouth—he might sell me for cash. The Second Master doesn't matter—he represents only himself, not Hou Fu. When you speak to him, hint lightly. Don't spell it out. If he doesn't grasp it, don't press. Yu Zhaoan is worth occasional cooperation, but never deep trust."

The Chief Steward nodded and added: "Chen Guanlou, who serves in the Heavenly Prison, is highly regarded by Yu Zhaoan—he once even offered to get him a lighter, more respectable post. Should we arrange for Chen Guanlou to serve near Yu Zhaoan, to spy on him?"

The Master scoffed, clearly rejecting the idea. "Do you think Yu Zhaoan is a fool? He's not just clever—he's rare. Look at his actions since his release: clearly planned. He aims to become the next Jiang Tu—even at the cost of his scholarly reputation. He's awakened."

In today's court, to accomplish anything real, you must first please the old man. Win his favor, then act freely. Li Liangcheng is old. Wu Dashou is a yes-man. If I'm not mistaken, Yu Zhaoan's goal is to replace Li Liangcheng or Wu Dashou. What ambition!"

The Chief Steward was stunned. "Yu Zhaoan wants to become Grand Secretary?"

"Why not?" the Master snorted.

"He's too young. Only in his forties."

Age is Yu Zhaoan's greatest weakness.

"Forty-something? Yes, young. But this dynasty has precedents. The old emperor ignored outcry and forcibly promoted Jiang Tu to Vice Minister of Works—a illiterate thug became a minister. Why can't Yu Zhaoan, a learned man, become Grand Secretary? He has far more substance than Jiang Tu."

"Your Lordship speaks wisely. Then what is your plan?"

The Master tapped his fingers lightly on the table and hummed a military battle tune.

The Chief Steward understood at once—the Master had once again set his heart on commanding troops.

The old emperor, shameless, had rewarded the Master with mere wealth after his victories, dismissing him. Everyone assumed the Master would never lead troops again, never serve the old emperor again. But now it was clear: the Master had always harbored the desire to command once more. Combined with the two pawns he'd placed in Jinzhou, everything made sense.

The Chief Steward bowed deeply, filled with awe. The Master's foresight was beyond his reach. Those scholars and strategists? They couldn't even carry his boots—they were all empty showpieces.

"What should I do, my Lord? Give your orders." At this moment, the Chief Steward's heart swelled with reverence and fervor—he longed to charge into battle for the Master.

The Master chuckled. "No need for force. Just watch the household. Keep the Second Master from causing trouble."

"Should we station more people near the Old Lady?"

"No need. She's old. Beyond filial piety, she can stir no trouble. No need to clash with her. But if she forgets decorum, remind her gently—for my sake."