The hall fell into a moment of utter silence. Over a hundred court officials, ministers of the Three Departments, and even the Emperor himself, had their gazes fixed intently on Li Ce. It was as if even the thick, towering pillars that upheld the double-eaved roof, and the solemn, overhanging eaves and intricate corbels, were holding their breath, eager to hear Li Ce's report.
Where had the silver from the Duke of Anguo's estate gone?
Beyond their desire for an explanation, the officials were equally puzzled by his early return. Was he not on a disaster relief mission? The other Ministry of Revenue officials had yet to arrive home—had Li Ce flown back?
After that fleeting silence, the Emperor's commanding voice echoed through the grand hall:"Does the Prince of Chu truly know? Then speak, and I shall deal with your offense of entering without summons and appearing before me in disheveled attire later."
Appearing before the Emperor in anything less than full court dress—rushing in so frantically—was indeed a punishable breach of decorum. But Li Ce no longer cared for such formalities. Kneeling upright, he solemnly replied:
"While providing disaster relief in Ganzhou, the newly appointed prefect, Yin Shicai, invited this son to rest at Tangquan. I declined, but he insisted it was relevant to the relief effort, saying that not long after the earthquake in Ganzhou, a Taoist began distributing porridge at Tangquan and even donated 1,200 taels of silver to the local authorities for disaster relief. The Taoist left no trace of his sect or origin, merely signing the donation with a single character—'Ji' (Relief). Moments ago, while outside the hall, this son overheard that the same character appears in the Duke of Anguo's account books, and thus suspected a possible connection."
The Emperor's furrowed brow eased slightly. He turned to the Vice Minister of Revenue, Yan Lian, and asked:"The records you uncovered—how much silver was disbursed?"
Yan Lian answered cautiously, "Exactly 1,200 taels, not a coin more or less."
A collective gasp rippled through the hall. They marveled at the clarity of the funds' usage—and were awestruck that they had indeed been used for disaster relief. One thousand two hundred taels—more than half the estate's annual profit, perhaps. No wonder the books bore the character "Ji." It stood for relief, alleviating the people's suffering, extending aid to the world in times of fortune.
The Emperor was visibly moved and turned to Ye Changgen:"So it was truly for disaster relief? Why conceal it? Were you afraid it might bruise my pride? Do you take me for a petty and narrow-minded sovereign?"
Ye Changgen bowed with a puzzled expression, no less astonished than the others. He had often complained about his father—how he had abandoned his family to live in seclusion and still used the estate's silver to survive. Never had he imagined that silver had been used for disaster relief. A maelstrom of emotions surged in his heart, and he found himself at a loss as to how to face his father.
Thinking of his younger sister standing behind him, Ye Changgen glanced back at Ye Jiao. She smiled at him, though her peach blossom eyes brimmed with tears. Were they tears of gratitude, of relief, or tears born of a new understanding of their father?
Yet amid the chorus of awe and admiration, the Deputy Censor-in-Chief, Baili Xi, continued to press,"What of last year? And the year before? Can we be certain this is not a coincidence?"
Indeed—what if it was mere coincidence? What evidence did the Duke of Anguo's estate have to prove that all their missing silver had truly been used for relief?
Vice Minister Yan Lian stepped forward once more,"Last year, the amount was 1,100 taels. The year before, 800. And the year before that, 1,300. We've only retrieved records for the past four years. The figures have already been transcribed."
"This can be easily verified," came a calm voice from Wang Chenming, Minister of the Court of Judicial Review, who had seemed aloof until now."The Ministry of Revenue keeps yearly records of donations for disaster relief across the realm. A simple cross-check should reveal the truth."
The Emperor signaled for an investigation. The lowest-ranking official of the Ministry of Revenue present was Yan Lian. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he departed the hall.
At the entrance, his son, Yan Congzheng, stepped forward and called out, "Father…"
Yan Lian shot him a glare and barked before he could finish,"Silence! I carry out His Majesty's orders. Your tangled web of favors means nothing here."
In such a moment, he would not pick sides, would not lie. Whether this turned to fortune or calamity now rested on the Duke of Anguo's fate.
Yan Congzheng stood frozen, watching his father rush toward the Ministry's office beside the Xuanzheng Hall, his gait heavy, breath ragged, revealing the weariness of age. Yan Congzheng's heart ached—bitterness, worry, and helplessness mingling within.
As the Ministry's verification soon revealed, all of the past years' relief donations matched precisely with the silver unaccounted for in the estate's ledgers. The funds had gone toward irrigation during droughts, epidemic relief, and most often, famine relief. The only difference was that earlier donations lacked the "Ji" character, though they were all passed through Taoist intermediaries.
Faced with such undeniable proof, Baili Xi was left dumbfounded. It had been he who had bribed the estate's accountant and uncovered the discrepancies—expecting a sharp blade of scandal. Yet instead, he had inadvertently gilded his opponents' name in charity. The blade had turned upon himself.
"This… how could this be?"
He turned to look at the other Three Departments' officials, only to find them whispering amongst themselves, marveling at the benevolence of the Duke of Anguo's house. Forced to turn back, he stiffly asked,"Why Taoists? Why were all donations made through Taoists?"
This time, the answer came from the one seated behind the imperial desk.
"Because of Ye Xi," the Emperor said, his voice choked with emotion. "Ye Xi, who served not in court yet bore the burdens of the realm; who dwelt in a Daoist temple, yet saved the common people. May this empire see more such loyal and selfless men like Ye Xi—and fewer power-hungry schemers. I, too, am deeply moved."
Only then did the Emperor remember that the Duke of Anguo's estate still bore accusations and gently addressed Baili Xi again,"Continue your investigation. Now that the silver's destination is clear, I presume you have other evidence to present?"
His words were like a wake-up call.
This assembly had not been summoned to extol the estate's virtue, but to determine whether they had colluded with foreign powers. Baili Xi's hands began to tremble. He could not afford to lose. A defeat now would see the Duke of Anguo rise in glory, peace restored between Tubo and Tang, and the Prince of Jin recalled from the frontlines.
But the Prince's faction remained weak. If he could not amass trusted allies in the Ministry of War, could not exploit the conflict to stockpile funds, even the title of Crown Prince would not ensure his place in court. Too many of the Emperor's sons coveted that position with hungry eyes.
They needed to prepare for the coming bloodshed.
Feigning composure, Baili Xi produced a letter."This letter, written in the Tubo script, was discovered in the Duke of Anguo's estate. I request that someone from the Ministry of Rites or the Court of Diplomatic Affairs verify its contents."
With the case now entangling the Ministry of Justice, the Censorate, the Ministry of Revenue, the Ministry of War, and others, the remaining officials temporarily forgot their hunger, each waiting for their name to be called. With the investigation turning, to be seen favorably before the Emperor was worth the fast.
At the mention of Tubo script, Wang Xuanyi, Chief of the Court of Diplomatic Affairs, stepped forward before the Ministry of Rites could respond, raising his ceremonial tablet. The officials of the Ministry of Rites looked displeased, but knowing Wang Xuanyi was a master translator fluent in nine languages, they allowed him the spotlight.
The Emperor nodded, and Wang Xuanyi stepped through the ranks to stand before Baili Xi. He respectfully accepted the letter and held up its cover.
"This is indeed written in the Tubo language. It is addressed: 'To General Ye of the Duke of Anguo's estate in Chang'an, from Princess Gesang Meiduo of Lancheng, Tubo.'"
This was the customary format. The officials were stunned that such correspondence was so open, and a wave of murmuring discussion ensued.
Baili Xi exhaled in relief. This was the letter—he had arranged for it himself, composed by a foreigner in Chang'an. It contained multiple private matters from Gesang Meiduo to Ye Changgen, one of which was her request to obtain Tang's military secrets. In return, she promised that once the plan succeeded, she would marry Ye Changgen, bring him to Tubo, and grant him the throne.
Such temptation—could a mere fifth-rank general truly resist?
Baili Xi held his breath as Wang Xuanyi prepared to break the seal. The scroll slowly unfurled—yet in that moment, Baili Xi's expression froze…