Chapter 76: Strike East to Hit West, Clay Dogs and Pottery Chickens

The Grand Canal Transport Office is located in the heart of Huai’an Prefecture, adjacent to Zhenhuai Tower and the Huai’an Prefectural Government, covering forty-five mu of land, spacious and imposing.

Above its gate hang six large characters: “Grand Coordinator of Grand Canal Transport.”

The Grand Canal Transport Office has a vast structure, overseeing granaries, shipyards, and guard battalions for transport, totaling over twenty thousand personnel, with nearly a hundred civil and military officials within its own administrative compound alone.

Such a massive institution naturally had no shortage of prisons—though nominally, it belonged to Huai’an Prefecture’s jail.

Wang Ruyan was imprisoned here.

When Wang Ruyan first fell from power, he endured several covert assassinations; only when news arrived from Beijing that Hai Rui would oversee the case did the attacks cease—everyone realized this was no ordinary corruption case.

Once certain individuals caught on, pressure mounted daily on Grand Coordinator Wang Zongmu.

After all, it was an office; many matters required the Grand Coordinator’s decree to be carried out by subordinates.

The Grand Canal Transport Commissioners, clerks, document supervisors, transport overseers, and chief clerks under him were mostly natives of Southern Zhili, with families and relatives settled locally, inevitably influenced by local pressures.

This month was the critical period for autumn grain shipments to Beijing, yet subordinates kept delaying, and the task remained unfinished to this day.

Everyone followed procedure, but each step slowed slightly, stalling the entire process.

In recent days, the Ministry of Revenue’s Grain Office and the Granary and Shipyard Grand Coordinator’s office had sent urgent letters demanding action.

Wang Zongmu, helpless, had no other recourse.

His troubles extended further: lately, censors from Southern Zhili had persistently impeached him.

For instance, accusations of fabricating storms at sea, or claiming Wang Zongmu deliberately sabotaged canal transport for maritime shipping, even his own book, “Detailed Examination of Maritime Transport,” was condemned as “using scholarship to disrupt governance.”

Being impeached required a defense.

But censors reported on hearsay; to defend himself, Wang Zongmu had to provide concrete evidence—for example, regarding the shipwreck, he had to submit sworn testimonies from accompanying officials and warehouse ledgers.

The effort expended differed immeasurably.

Repeated cycles of impeachment and defense led to further accusations that he clung to power and refused to step down.

In short, Wang Zongmu was thoroughly worn down.

At this moment, Wang Zongmu sat in the Grand Coordinator’s office, listening to a clerk’s report.

“Grand Coordinator, General Chen says he’s new here and needs time to organize; he hopes you won’t press him—he’ll move quickly, perhaps within seven or eight days.”

Wang Zongmu sighed upon hearing this; though anxious, he knew there was nothing he could do.

The central government had replaced the Grand Canal Transport Regional Commander for reasons unknown.

The previous commander, Marquis Liang Jifan of Baoding, had been recalled to Beijing; in his place came Earl Chen Wangmo of Pingjiang, who arrived five days ago.

This transition naturally required time; otherwise, the new commander might inherit the previous one’s messes.

Though understandable, grain transport would inevitably be delayed further.

Wang Zongmu considered a moment, then said: “Send off the seven ships agreed upon yesterday. If the Grain Office asks, say the rest will depart shortly.”

Even if pressed, there was no choice—just give the Ministry of Revenue something to tide them over.

The clerk immediately drafted the document and presented it for Wang Zongmu’s seal—autumn grain shipments required the Grand Coordinator’s seal.

Wang Zongmu picked up the seal and pressed it down.

At that moment, Censor Lu Mingzhang rushed in.

The clerk, seeing this, quickly took the document and withdrew, fearing he’d overhear too much.

Lu Mingzhang, seeing no one else around, exclaimed joyfully: “Grand Coordinator Wang, Grand Coordinator Hai has arrived!”

Wang Zongmu leapt to his feet: “Has he reached Huaiyin Ferry?”

With Jianghuai in turmoil, Wang Zongmu, as Grand Coordinator, knew well who was maneuvering behind the scenes.

Now targeted himself, he had no real defense—passive and constantly struggling to hold ground.

But with Hai Rui’s arrival, the situation would surely improve.

Even if he couldn’t win, he’d at least share the pressure.

Lu Mingzhang panted heavily, shaking his head: “He’s arriving at the Grand Canal Transport Office any moment!”

Wang Zongmu was startled—so soon?

He immediately realized: Hai Rui must have disembarked and traveled overland; at this critical juncture, sticking to the scheduled route was unwise.

He straightened his hat and strode swiftly toward the office gate: “Come, let’s go meet him ourselves!”

Lu Mingzhang hurried after him.

On the way, they also sent messengers to inform Grand Canal Transport Regional Commander Chen Wangmo.

When they reached the gate, they waited only briefly before seeing a group approaching the Grand Canal Transport Office.

Wang Zongmu ignored the younger faces; his eyes locked onto a senior official in crimson robes, over fifty, with a stern, noble face—he knew instantly who it was.

He stepped forward quickly: “Hai Gangfeng, long admired!”

Seeing Hai Rui look over, Wang Zongmu descended the five stone steps before the office gate with quick, respectful steps.

“I am Wang Zongmu, humbly serving as Grand Coordinator of Grand Canal Transport.”

Hai Rui promptly returned the greeting: “Your humble servant Hai Rui, respectfully greeting Grand Coordinator of Grand Canal Transport.”

He then turned to the man beside Wang Zongmu.

Wang Zongmu casually bowed, lifting Hai Rui’s hand: “Hai Gangfeng, no need for such formality—I’ve long admired you. Call me by my courtesy name, Xinfu.”

Though wielding military and administrative power, Wang Zongmu was a true civil official, a genuine disciple of the School of Mind.

Privately, he cherished scholarly integrity and the refined bonds of gentlemanly friendship.

He gestured to his companion: “This is Censor Lu Mingzhang, courtesy name Fengyao.”

Lu Mingzhang bowed: “Grand Coordinator Hai, long admired.”

Hai Rui returned the bow and introduced those beside him.

“This is Gu Chengguang of the Marquisate of Zhenyuan, Deputy Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard.”

“This is Chen Yinzhao, heir to the Earl of Pingjiang.”

Wang Zongmu glanced at the latter in surprise: “Your father is inspecting the troops—he’s not at the office.”

Chen Yinzhao bowed: “Grand Coordinator Wang, I am now Grand Coordinator Hai’s personal guard, not here to visit family.”

Wang Zongmu understood—it was an indirect pressure on Earl Chen Wangmo.

He mused internally: this would likely spur the Earl to act faster.

He scanned the group: “Where is Vice Minister of Justice Chen Dong?”

Hai Rui smiled: “We disembarked early at Qingkou Ferry; they’re still aboard.”

Wang Zongmu nodded, asking no further questions.

The Emperor’s order instructed the Grand Canal Transport Office to assist Hai Rui in inspecting salt administration.

In plain terms: Southern Zhili could not be trusted; the Grand Canal Transport Office held sufficient rank, commanded over ten thousand troops, and managed salt tax transfers—perfect as Hai Rui’s backing.

Leadership, naturally, remained with this Grand Coordinator of the Two Huai Salt Administration.

Censor Lu Mingzhang reminded: “Grand Coordinator Wang, Grand Coordinator Hai, perhaps we should go inside to speak.”

Wang Zongmu snapped back to himself and invited Hai Rui in for a reception.

Hai Rui shook his head: “Forgive me, Grand Coordinator Wang—the Emperor awaits urgently, the Grand Secretariat has pressed repeatedly; I must prioritize the case.”

“Is Wang Ruyan still here?”

Beside him, Lu Mingzhang began to understand why Hai Rui was so unpopular.

Not only did he refuse the banquet, he opened by asking if the prisoner was still detained—as if the Grand Canal Transport Office might deliberately let him escape.

Fortunately, Wang Zongmu was magnanimous; after all, he was a man who wrote books and compiled histories—a statesman of caliber had no shortage of grace.

He turned to Lu Mingzhang: “Fengyao, take Grand Coordinator Hai there.”

Then he asked Hai Rui: “Hai Gangfeng, will you conduct the trial here at the Grand Canal Transport Office, or take the prisoner away?”

Hai Rui bowed in thanks: “Thank you, Grand Coordinator Wang—I’ll conduct the trial here. The Emperor said that upon arriving in Southern Zhili, you and Duke An are the first two he trusts.”

Wang Zongmu’s expression shifted slightly, but he said nothing, gesturing for Lu Mingzhang to lead Hai Rui to the prison.

…

The sky was gradually darkening.

Lanterns along the office walls were lit, each bearing the inscription “Grand Coordinator of Grand Canal Transport.”

Canal troops stood tall and proud at every post around the Grand Canal Transport Office, disciplined and orderly.

Hai Rui was led to the outer gate of the Grand Canal Transport Office prison.

Lu Mingzhang said as they walked: “Wang Ruyan is inside.”

Hai Rui glanced at Lu Mingzhang curiously: “During the time Wang Ruyan has been imprisoned, has no one from the Grand Canal Transport Office interrogated him?”

Lu Mingzhang hesitated.

The autumn grain shipment was barely held back from being stranded in the Two Huai region—if they started interrogating now, the entire office might grind to a halt.

Besides, it wasn’t their affair; no need to meddle.

He couldn’t say it outright; after struggling for a long moment, he muttered: “The Grand Canal Transport Office cannot overstep its bounds.”

Hai Rui nodded in understanding.

Along the way, Lu Mingzhang ordered every jailer to stand down, allowing Gu Chengguang’s Embroidered Uniform Guard to take over the prison’s security.

After walking further inside, Lu Mingzhang stopped and pointed to a cell: “This is it.”

Hai Rui bowed in thanks.

Lu Mingzhang turned to leave, then suddenly remembered and turned back: “Grand Coordinator Hai, will you stay at the Prefectural Office or here at the Grand Canal Transport Office?”

Hai Rui smiled apologetically: “We have too many attendants—we’ll go to the Embroidered Uniform Guard’s Battalion Command post later.”

Lu Mingzhang naturally understood: two hundred Embroidered Uniform Guards would spare the Grand Canal Transport Office the trouble; he bowed and departed.

Luo Sigong pushed open the prison door for Hai Rui and stepped inside first.

Hai Rui bent slightly at the waist, lowered his head, and kicked aside the scattered straw beneath his feet to clear a spot to stand.

As soon as he entered the cell, he saw Wang Ruyan, gaunt and haggard.

The man’s hair was now entirely white, his lips cracked, and he lay listlessly atop the straw pile, his expression vacant.

Seeing someone enter, Wang Ruyan slowly focused his gaze, immediately locking onto the senior official in the crimson robe at the front.

Wang Ruyan scanned him from head to toe, then spoke slowly: “You are Hai Rui?”

When he served as Director of the Ministry of Revenue, Hai Rui was still a county magistrate; later, when Hai Rui was promoted to Director of the Ministry of Revenue, he had already been demoted to county magistrate—they had simply missed each other, and thus had never met.

Now, by some twist of fate, they met in prison—and Wang Ruyan had immediately identified Hai Rui, as if he had long known Hai Rui would come.

Hai Rui showed no great surprise, asking casually: “Did someone tell you I was coming?”

Wang Ruyan had already been imprisoned before Hai Rui even met His Majesty.

Logically, Wang Ruyan’s knowledge should have been frozen at the time of his arrest—but his current demeanor clearly indicated someone had communicated with him.

Wang Ruyan nodded: “It frightened quite a few people.”

As he spoke, he shifted his lying position.

Hai Rui ordered someone to bring a table and two low stools, gesturing for Wang Ruyan to sit.

Wang Ruyan glanced at them, too lazy to move: “Go ahead and interrogate me—I’d like to see what Hai the Pure Judge can do.”

Hai Rui shook his head: “The Vice Minister of the Dalisi hasn’t arrived yet. It’s against Great Ming law for me to preside alone. Even if I did, the verdict wouldn’t stand. Let’s just chat casually.”

“Wang Ruyan, when you said ‘quite a few people’ just now—who exactly did you mean?”

Wang Ruyan studied Hai Rui with a piercing gaze and said: “Hai Rui, why pretend to be so virtuous!?”

“Don’t you know why you’re here?”

“So many mouths across the Two Huai regions have taken a bite from the salt monopoly—why are you fixated on me, a minor player?”

“Who are the real culprits? Don’t you know!?”

“You dare ask? I dare speak! But after I name them, will you throw them all into prison too!?”

Hai Rui watched Wang Ruyan’s outburst in silence.

When Wang Ruyan finished, Hai Rui spoke at last: “I cannot act on names alone—but if you provide full details of your crimes, past conduct, and physical evidence, I will handle it according to the law.”

No sooner had he spoken than Wang Ruyan burst into loud laughter.

As if hearing the most absurd joke imaginable.

He laughed until tears streamed down his face, then gradually calmed.

Still chuckling, he gasped between breaths: “According to the law?”

“Civil officials wear birds embroidered on their robes; military officials wear beasts. Once they don these robes, who in the court isn’t a beast in human form!?”

“How many of the senior ministers, powerful officials, and influential nobles in the Southern Zhili region are clean?”

“Why haven’t you, Hai the Pure Judge, marched straight into Southern Zhili and swept them all away?”

“Forget Southern Zhili—even in the capital, close your eyes at court and grab anyone—you won’t miss.”

“Why haven’t you ever stood up for the people?”

“Hai Rui! Don’t think you, a mere Assistant Censor, can cleanse the heavens and erase all injustice! You believe you speak for the people—but you’re merely a knife in someone else’s hand! One day, the Grand Secretariat will use you and discard you!”

Hai Rui listened to his outburst with quiet interest.

Wang Ruyan’s words didn’t sound like they were meant for himself.

At this point, he should have confessed everything to save his life.

Yet here he was, ranting wildly.

So… this was the message those people wanted to deliver to Hai Rui?

Again, the same old tale of deep entanglements and tangled roots—just like when he investigated Xu Jie. They hoped to scare him off with his own past fate, to make him retreat and preserve himself.

How utterly unoriginal.

Hai Rui smiled faintly inwardly, turning his neck this way and that as he examined the cell.

The cell seemed ordinary—but from his years of investigating cases, something felt off.

Prisons are always near the yamen, but this one was suspiciously far inside.

Hai Rui ignored Wang Ruyan, occasionally looking up, sometimes crouching to prod at the straw.

After a long while, he finally noticed something: he stared at the straw beneath Wang Ruyan, his hands behind his back, bending low to inspect closely.

He turned his head, signaling Luo Sigong.

Luo Sigong understood, stepped forward, yanked Wang Ruyan—who now looked alarmed—away, and pulled aside the straw beneath him.

There, in the straw, a small hole revealed a slender metal rod.

A tip of the lotus bud just peeks above the water.

Hai Rui glanced at Wang Ruyan, whose mouth was tightly clamped shut by Gu Chengguang.

He was no longer insane; his face was ashen, desperately mumbling through his muffled mouth.

Luo Sigong leaned close to Hai Rui’s ear and whispered, like a fly’s buzz: “Sir, this is a listening tube—exclusive to the Imperial Guard.”

Such devices had existed since the founding of the dynasty; Luo Sigong’s ancestors had served as Commanders of the Embroidered Uniform Guard—he had seen them before.

On Hai Rui’s stern face, a rare smile appeared.

He crouched, staring at the slender metal rod extending from the other side of the wall.

Hai Rui covered the rod and asked: “Is the yamen next door?”

Gu Chengguang nodded.

Hai Rui paused, then ordered: “Please, Commander Gu, go there.”

Gu Chengguang bowed and turned to leave the cell.

A moment passed.

Hai Rui considered, then removed his hand from the rod and slowly stood.

With his back to Wang Ruyan, he stared at the corner and said: “Wang Ruyan, cleansing the heavens is the Emperor’s task—I, Hai Rui, cannot do it.”

“Precisely because the Emperor seeks to cleanse the heavens, I begin with you, Wang Ruyan—and with the salt monopoly of the Two Huai.”

“Don’t pretend the world is unjust. I’ll tell you plainly.”

“Before I came, His Majesty explicitly ordered: next year’s new era, not a single coin of salt tax may be reduced!”

“If you cooperate, even a minor player like you may yet find a way out.”

“But if you defy Great Ming law, resist to the death, embezzle tax revenue…”

“Not just you, Wang Ruyan—even the imperial relatives, hereditary nobles, and senior ministers you mentioned—all will face death!”

“I warn you now!”

His final words were icy, brimming with lethal intent!

…

Wang Ruyan’s cell lay between the Huai’an Prefectural Yamen and the Grand Canal Administration Office.

The Grand Canal Administration Office had been thoroughly cleared by Wang Zongmu—no unauthorized persons allowed.

But today, the Huai’an Prefectural Yamen was filled with unexpected visitors.

The Prefect had vanished; only several unknown men remained gathered in the main hall.

All wore grim expressions, exchanging uneasy glances.

The middle-aged man with a mustache in a Bazi shape fumed: “This is an outrage! A mere fourth-rank official dares to speak so boldly!”

Beside him, another man, dressed in plain robes but clearly an official, also wore an expression of dark fury.

The plain-robed official gritted his teeth: “Fine, fine! Let’s see how he brings death upon us!”

A young man remained silent, bowed, and prepared to leave: “Gentlemen, I must return and report to my lord.”

The mustached man turned sharply to the youth and said seriously: “Prince, this man has abandoned all sentiment—he’s impossible to reason with. We must prepare.”

The young man nodded silently: “I will inform my lord.”

Saying this, he rose and walked toward the door.

At that moment, a junior clerk suddenly stumbled into the yamen!

All turned sharply to stare at him.

The mustached man, exasperated, kicked him: “Spit it out!”

The clerk, already breathless, was thrown by the kick and rolled to the plain-robed official’s side: “Director Zhang! Just now…”

He gasped for air: “Just now, Director Wang and Commander Chen sent men to Huaiyin Ferry to welcome the Vice Minister of the Dalisi and Deputy Commander Jiao.”

Zhang Huan frowned impatiently: “So what?”

The clerk hurried on: “But the boat never docked!”

Zhang Huan’s face turned ashen!

Not just him—all present realized the implication and sprang to their feet.

The mustached man cried out: “No! They’re heading straight for the salt warehouses and salt wells!”

No sooner had he spoken—

A clamor erupted outside the yamen.

All turned instinctively to look.

CRASH!

The yamen’s main gate shattered open.

Gu Chengguang led the Embroidered Uniform Guard pouring in, surrounding them all.

He stepped forward slowly, surveying the group.

He said with an unpleasant expression: “Gentlemen, come with me.”