Chapter 21: First Encounter at Dongyuan

But he had never imagined that the Crown Prince’s ascension was nothing more than a carefully laid trap by Chen Mu.

After returning home, Master Zhang summoned the spies he had stationed around the Crown Prince’s residence to inquire about the situation. The answers were unanimous: no one had seen the Crown Prince leave his manor, and it seemed he truly had fallen ill. With this reassurance, Master Zhang finally let go of his worries.

What he did not know, however, was that Chen Mu and Li Biao had already slipped past his surveillance under the cover of night and left the capital.

On the road to Dongyuan, Chen Mu and Li Biao rode hard, their horses galloping at full speed. Li Biao was anxious about the situation in his hometown, while Chen Mu worried that any delay might leak news of their arrival and give those corrupt officials time to prepare.

What should have been a journey of nearly seven days, the two men managed to complete in just five, pushing themselves day and night until they finally reached the borders of Dongyuan.

Before his feet even touched the ground, Chen Mu was struck speechless by the scene before him. Having never witnessed famine firsthand, his understanding of it had always been vague and distant. But now, faced with the reality, he was utterly shaken.

To say that misery stretched as far as the eye could see was no exaggeration. Scattered along the roadside lay countless people; some could still struggle to their feet and reach out to Chen Mu and Li Biao for a morsel of food, while others no longer had the strength even to sit up.

“Your Highness, look,” Li Biao said in a choked voice, gazing at the destitute refugees. “This is Yupan County, the farthest edge of Dongyuan. If things are this dire at the fringes, deeper in…”

Chen Mu’s face darkened, and he said nothing, urging his horse to go even faster.

He knew well the contents of the confidential letter Li Biao had brought; the local official of Yupan County was among the names listed.

Li Biao kept close behind Chen Mu as they rode straight to the county yamen.

At the entrance, a few yamen runners lounged idly. Only when they saw Chen Mu and Li Biao attempting to enter did they lazily saunter over.

“What do you want?”

“I need to see your magistrate.”

The runners exchanged glances.

“What business do you have with our lord?”

“I have a lawsuit to present.”

“What kind of lawsuit?”

It was obvious they intended to block their way.

Chen Mu remained silent, but Li Biao’s temper flared.

“What’s with all the questions!” Li Biao glared at the runners, his voice fierce. “Go and announce us, or my fists might lose their way!”

Li Biao was a towering, powerfully built man, and as a former chief constable, intimidating these lackadaisical runners was child’s play. Sure enough, one of the runners looked as if he wanted to protest, but at the sight of Li Biao’s raised fist, he thought better of it.

“…Wait here.”

The runner turned and slouched back inside, taking his time before finally strolling back out.

“Go in and wait. Whether the lord will see you is another matter.”

Li Biao shot the runners one last threatening look, then stepped aside, motioning for Chen Mu to enter first.

“After you, sir.”

Chen Mu would never reveal his identity unless absolutely necessary.

Inside the main hall, the seat behind the magistrate’s desk was empty. Only a few yamen runners leaned on their brooms, chatting idly and occasionally giving the floor a lackluster sweep.

Chen Mu said nothing, but Li Biao could not bear the sight. As chief constable of Qingqu County, nothing irked him more than such slothful conduct.

“If you’re going to sweep, do it properly! What’s with this lazy dragging about?” he barked at them.

One runner shot Li Biao a sidelong glance.

“Not from around here, are you?”

Li Biao was taken aback, unsure how to reply.

“Locals don’t have that much energy,” the runner sneered. “See? The only reason we get half a meal is because we follow the magistrate’s orders.”

“I heard the court dispatched an imperial commissioner for disaster relief. Is that true?” Chen Mu inquired.

To his surprise, the runners burst out laughing.

“You look like a scholar, but you sure talk like a fool.”

“Exactly! Think about who the imperial commissioner really is!”

“He’s an official, our lord is an official, so naturally the food goes to officials.”

Finding amusement, the runners mocked Chen Mu at length.

At that moment, someone rapped the table behind Chen Mu.

“What’s all this commotion? Have you no discipline at all?”

Chen Mu turned to see a greasy, middle-aged man with a round, bloated face standing behind the desk, rapping his thick, stubby finger on the tabletop.

The runners immediately straightened and fell silent.

“Greetings, my lord!”

The man settled himself grandly behind the desk. Even without asking, Chen Mu knew who he must be: the magistrate of Yupan County.

“So you are the magistrate here?” Chen Mu asked. “Why aren’t you wearing official robes in court?”

“Whether I wear robes or not is none of your concern,” the magistrate snapped. “Are you the ones with a lawsuit?”

“Yes.”

“Then back where you came from. What business does an outsider have filing a suit in my court?” The magistrate stood, preparing to leave.

“How do you know I’m an outsider?” Chen Mu pressed.

The magistrate sneered coldly. “Are you blind? Look around—how many local folk can even stand upright?”

“The court sent an imperial commissioner with grain and funds for disaster relief, those people—”

“Are you deaf?” the magistrate shouted, cutting Chen Mu off mid-sentence, his jowls quivering in anger. “The grain is from the court, so it belongs to the officials. How could official grain end up in the hands of commoners?”

With that, he waved at the runners and strode away.

The runners immediately closed in, shoving Chen Mu and Li Biao out the door.

“Enough, enough, move along,” the last runner said with a bitter smile as he pushed Chen Mu out. “Don’t make things harder for us—we’re just trying to scrape by.”

“You two want to pretend to be disaster victims for a share of the rations, don’t you? Take my advice—it’s not worth it.”

“All the money’s been embezzled by the officials, all the grain sold off at prices dozens of times higher than usual.”

That last remark caught Chen Mu’s attention.

No wonder not a single kernel had reached the disaster victims.

So this was the truth!

Selling grain at tenfold the normal price—this was profiteering from national disaster, plain and simple.

Ordinary people would have to sell everything they owned just to survive a few days.

As for the powerful local gentry, even they would be stripped of much of their wealth.

Such ruthless calculation!