The room was lined with several rows of bookshelves, crammed with thick volumes of documents, leaving just enough space for a single desk. It was cramped and narrow, yet it did not feel suffocating or oppressive.
Perhaps it was because the books, though abundant, were meticulously organized and clean, or because blooming spring flowers adorned the windowsill.
Or perhaps it was because on the solitary desk, the brush, ink, paper, and inkstone were all exquisite items, and seated in front of the desk was Ning Yunzhao, whose slender hand moved gracefully as he copied documents, creating a scene that was pleasing to the eye.
But at this moment, his colleague still wore a face filled with worry.
"This is getting out of hand," the colleague said. "Delaying salaries—this has never happened before."
Ning Yunzhao waved his hand slightly.
"That's not how you should put it," he replied. "In the fifth year of the Yingshun era of the previous dynasty, Emperor Ai, citing financial strain and excessive burdens, ordered a three-month suspension of salaries for court officials and local clerks."
The colleague froze, hurriedly gestured at him to hush, and glanced nervously towards the door.
"My dear Mr. Ning, don't throw around such comparisons carelessly!" he whispered urgently. "Comparing the current emperor with the emperor of a fallen dynasty—if this spreads, the censors will have your head."
"Compare? I didn't compare," Ning Yunzhao said with a faint smile. "I simply meant people shouldn't speak so recklessly. His Majesty has not delayed salaries."
The colleague was momentarily stunned.
"But during the morning court, it was clearly announced…" He pointed outside.
"Even so, it wasn't termed as a delay in salaries," Ning Yunzhao said solemnly. "It was distinctly phrased as a voluntary contribution of one month's salary. Donations and withholding are entirely different."
"What difference does it make!" The colleague was taken aback, then chuckled bitterly. "It's merely a more palatable way of putting it."
Who truly volunteered?
"I volunteered," Ning Yunzhao said earnestly. "It is precisely because Duke of Chengguo and the generals in the northern lands defended it heroically that the Jurchen people had no choice but to sue for peace. The dynasty rewarding them is entirely appropriate. And since the dynasty's treasury cannot currently afford such rewards, we who live on His Majesty's provisions should share his burdens. Donating one month's salary—what's the big deal? How much money does one month's salary even amount to?"
The colleague thought for a moment—indeed, a month's salary wasn't much—but then let out a sharp breath, glaring at Ning Yunzhao.
"You truly are unlike your uncle," he said, eyes wide. "Do you not have any opinion on major court matters? Anything the emperor says, you wholeheartedly agree?"
"Because it's genuinely good," Ning Yunzhao replied. "I think it's a fine arrangement. It ensures the soldiers receive the glory they deserve and allows us to express our respect for them. Frankly, one month is too little. I'm willing to donate two months."
The colleague spat bitterly.
"Ning Chang, stop pretending to play the fool with a straight face," he snapped. "This isn't a matter of how much money it is!"
"It must be," Ning Yunzhao said.
"It's not, and you know it's not!" The colleague's frustration flared. "Who cares about a month's salary? This is about principle! Why should we pay out of our pockets for Duke of Chengguo's celebration?"
"Victory should be shared," Ning Yunzhao said.
"Exactly, shared! He has merit—what about us?!" The colleague's expression grew stern as he pointed northward. "He may defend the border in the north, but does that make our diligent work here worthless?"
"Of course not. Everyone has merit," Ning Yunzhao replied. "Their defense stabilizes our governance, and maintaining stable governance allows them to safeguard the borders. Thus, we share the credit."
"Share what?! If we're sharing, they shouldn't dock our salaries to reward others." The colleague slapped the desk. "If we're truly sharing, we should also receive rewards."
Ning Yunzhao reached out to steady the towering pile of documents, unhurried and calm.
"By using our money to reward them, the achievements in the northern lands become partially ours as well—so isn't the reward also ours?" he said.
The colleague stared at him, momentarily at a loss for words.
"If only everyone thought like you," he muttered, snorting as he stood and walked away in irritation.
Watching his colleague leave, Ning Yunzhao smiled faintly, making no effort to stop him. The room returned to quiet, though the noise outside intensified, as if the entire government office street had come alive.
Picking up his brush, Ning Yunzhao continued his work.
"Not everyone will think as I do, but the more, the better," he murmured to himself. "Otherwise, Duke of Chengguo will be in real trouble this time."
...........................…
"How insidious!"
In Ning Yan's study, Ning Shiyi slapped the table in fury.
"What a despicable scheme!"
Ning Yan and Ning Yunzhao sat across from each other, silently studying the chessboard as though they hadn't heard a thing.
Ning Shiyi, undeterred, continued his tirade.
"First they extorted money from merchants in the city. Those who wouldn't pay were driven out, leaving the marketplace in such chaos that traders nearly staged a strike," he fumed.
"It wasn't that bad," Ning Yunzhao said calmly, placing a chess piece. "I looked into it—only small street vendors like tea stall owners and peddlers were affected. The marketplace itself and the big merchants weren't disturbed."
Ning Shiyi flushed with embarrassment at having his exaggeration exposed.
"Elder Brother, the issue isn't about big or small merchants—it's just wrong," he insisted.
Ning Yan's hand briefly paused over the chess piece he was holding.
"Was this also to raise funds for Duke of Chengguo's reward?" he asked, turning to look at Ning Yunzhao.
Ning Yunzhao shook his head.
"No," he replied. "They said nothing to the merchants."
Ning Yan let out a cold laugh, placing his piece on the board.
"So they only told the officials," he said. "Clear as day: the treasury is empty, and everyone must contribute."
Ning Yunzhao placed another piece.
"It's merely one month's salary," he said.
"Elder Brother," Ning Shiyi interjected, leaning forward anxiously, "this isn't about the amount!"
Ning Yunzhao turned to him.
"But for now, we must insist it is about the amount," he said in a steady voice. "Otherwise, we'll walk right into the trap."
Ning Shiyi froze, staring at him, while Ning Yan gazed down at the chessboard, his expression heavy.
"And His Majesty agreed to this?" Ning Yan finally asked.
Ning Yunzhao continued playing.
"Why wouldn't His Majesty agree?" he replied. "His Majesty is determined to reward Duke of Chengguo, deeply conscious of his hardships. Any requests related to him or the generals are promptly approved. When the Ministry of Personnel reported they had no funds, His Majesty wept during court and offered to use the harem's budget."
The emperor himself had donated money, and only then did the Ministry of Personnel suggest that officials contribute as well.
This wasn't coercion by the emperor—it was the Ministry of Personnel's idea. The emperor was entirely blameless, and if there was blame, it belonged to the Ministry of Personnel.
So why would the emperor refuse?
Ning Shiyi fell into silence, and Ning Yan's chess piece lingered motionlessly in his hand. The study sank into stillness.
Meanwhile, bursts of laughter erupted from Huang Cheng's study.
The room was filled with people, surrounded by tea, wine, and lively chatter, creating a boisterous atmosphere.
"The emperor is faultless—a benevolent ruler," one man declared, raising his teacup to the others. "If there's blame, it's on your Ministry of Personnel—what kind of ridiculous idea is this? Asking for donations—what were you thinking?"
"Exactly! We work tirelessly day and night—is it all just for those few coins of monthly salary?" another man said loudly in support.
The moment he finished, the lively room abruptly fell quiet.
All eyes turned to him.
The man quickly realized his mistake.
"No, no, what I meant was, we work tirelessly day and night—all for those few coins of salary," he hurriedly corrected himself, indignantly pointing at the others. "Your Ministry of Personnel is killing us with this nonsense."
Ah, now that sounded right.
The room quickly resumed its merriment.
"This isn't about money," someone said. "If they can do this once, surely they'll do it again. Once the door to wrongdoing is opened, it's hard to shut."
Voices echoed in agreement, with fingers pointed accusatorily at certain men, their conversations tinged with feigned anger.
The accused, however, wore faint smiles.
"We really had no choice," one of them said, spreading his hands helplessly. "A skillful housewife needs flour to bake. With no funds to pacify the soldiers, what other options do we have? If unrest breaks out, who'll bear the blame? We can only rely on your generosity. If you must blame someone, blame the real culprit."
As though waiting for his cue, the crowd raised their cups simultaneously.
"And who would that be?" they chorused.
The man also lifted his teacup.
"Obviously… Duke of Chengguo," he announced loudly.
The room burst into chaos.
"And why?" they shouted again in unison.
The man raised his cup once more.
"Because of his relentless demands—because he's set a bad example for all other officials," he bellowed.
The room grew even rowdier.
"Who's to blame?"
"Duke of Chengguo."
"Who's being overbearing?"
"Duke of Chengguo."
"Who's demanding recognition for achievements?"
"Duke of Chengguo."
The commotion of shouts, laughter, and toasts filled the room, creating an almost surreal atmosphere of misplaced revelry.
Amidst the boisterous crowd, seated at the head of the table, Huang Cheng's slightly hunched figure raised his wine cup and tipped it to the ground.
"Duke of Chengguo," he echoed softly, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Please."
...
...
(Only one chapter today—pain. For the coming days, there'll be just one chapter daily. Heartache…)