Chapter Sixty: Storm Approaching

Zhao Yu had thoroughly grasped Wu Song’s nature; loyalty was important, but it could never outweigh family ties. Appealing to emotion and reason alike was now Zhao Yu’s method of drawing people in. To be perfectly honest, if it weren’t for his status as a prince, no matter how generous or heroic he was, these gallant men would never risk their lives for him.

Such was human nature—nothing to be surprised about.

Zhao Yu’s decision to remain in Yangzhou caught many off guard; at the very least, all the preparations made by both the underworld and officials of Hangzhou for his arrival were rendered useless.

Though Zhao Yu himself had not yet acted, the proclamations to cease collecting the tribute gold had already spread like wildfire throughout Jiangnan.

Because the emperor was fond of such things, a whole industry chain had developed around the collection and mining of tribute gold. The poorest commoners naturally welcomed such decrees from the authorities with open arms, but in doing so, it inevitably threatened those with vested interests.

Some landlords and wealthy families who had built their fortunes on exploiting the peasantry began to pay lip service to the new policies or simply ignored them altogether.

Though Zhao Yu was the Emperor’s inspector, he was at best a mighty dragon unable to suppress the local snakes. This was destined to be a campaign full of thunder but little rain, merely going through the motions.

The authorities’ inaction quickly enraged the common people. In several prefectures and counties, citizens began gathering to demand explanations at the government offices.

It began in the Liangzhe Circuit, then spread to Jiangnan. Soon, even outside Zhao Yu’s temporary residence, crowds gathered, pleading with him to uphold justice.

Zhao Yu’s reach had not yet extended into Jiangnan; the situation beyond his doors was conveyed only through the hurried reports of his men.

Yet he was in no hurry. He was still waiting for news from Fang La. Zhao Yu knew their thinking was likely similar: if he failed to handle this matter well, Fang La would use it as a pretext to further stir up the people; if he succeeded, Fang La would realize the court had taken real precautions.

Though the two had not yet met, their contest was already underway, silent yet sharp as blades.

The conversations involving Liang Shicheng and the others had already reached Zhao Yu, who simply smiled. They all wanted a spectacle—let them wait and see.

Zhao Yu’s days had been leisurely of late. Each morning, accompanied by Lin Chong, Wu Song, and Yan Qing, he went out to exercise; in the day, he sipped wine and bantered with Xiuxiu and Wanyu. Life could hardly be more pleasant.

“Three with one!”

“King Bomb! Your Highness, I only have one card left! Get your silver ready!”

Looking at the pile of cards in his hand, Zhao Yu could only shake his head and smile wryly. These two girls learned fast. He’d only taught them the game of Dou Dizhu twice, and now they played better than he did.

“Well, let’s just tally it up next round.”

“Your Highness, you’re cheating!”

Just as Wanyu’s words faded, Yan Qing’s voice suddenly came from outside the door.

“Your Highness, Lord Lu has arrived.”

Hearing that Lu Hongming had come, Zhao Yu hurriedly got up and ran off—looking just like a delinquent escaping a debt, with not a trace of princely dignity.

Watching Zhao Yu’s retreating figure, Xiuxiu sighed, silently gathering the homemade cards.

Wanyu giggled and leaned in to whisper to Xiuxiu, “Someone was calling for His Highness in her sleep last night.”

Xiuxiu’s cheeks reddened, but she retorted without hesitation, “And who is it that always sneaks peeks at His Highness when he bathes?”

“Oh! Say that again and I’ll tear your mouth to shreds!”

“Please, sister, spare me! I’ll never say it again…”

What maiden’s heart does not yearn for love? Especially when the man is someone like Zhao Yu—a top-tier eligible bachelor. The two girls now wished they could devour Zhao Yu whole.

Dodging his gambling debts, Zhao Yu strode quickly to the main hall, where he found Lu Hongming pacing restlessly like an ant on a hot pan.

“Lord Lu, are you desperate for the latrine?”

“Oh, Your Highness! The situation is nearly on fire, and you’re still so calm!”

“Speak slowly. The sky won’t fall.”

Zhao Yu replied unhurriedly, motioning for Lu Hongming to sit. But Lu could not settle down, and anxiously said, “Your Highness, since your decree was issued, the prefectures and counties have been paying only lip service. More and more commoners are causing disturbances, and many are flooding into Yangzhou. You must think of something, or there will be real trouble!”

“Put up a notice. Tell the people I am willing to listen to their grievances, but anyone who uses this as an excuse to cause trouble will be executed without mercy!”

“That’s all?”

Seeing that Zhao Yu had nothing more to add, Lu Hongming could not help but ask.

Zhao Yu turned to him and said quietly, “You are a good official, Lord Lu—at least you’re not sitting back waiting to watch me fail. You and I both know where the real problem lies, but neither of us has the power to change it at its root. All we can do is our best.”

Lu Hongming was momentarily stunned. Though Zhao Yu’s words seemed evasive, he understood well enough.

The root of the tribute gold’s evil was the emperor himself. If the emperor would not change, no one else’s efforts would matter.

Lu nodded, saluted Zhao Yu, and strode out.

Xu Jiang, watching Lu’s departing figure, asked anxiously, “Your Highness, do you think something serious will happen?”

Zhao Yu smiled, about to say that whatever was meant to happen would come, when a guard strode in quickly from outside.

“Your Highness, a man named Wang Yin requests an audience.”

Wang Yin—the foremost of Fang La’s Eight Heavenly Kings—had come in person; it seemed he could wait no longer.

“Show him in.”

Zhao Yu knew Wang Yin’s identity, though Xu Jiang did not. As one of Zhao Yu’s key advisors, Xu waited until the guard had left, then asked, “Your Highness, who is this Wang Yin?”

“A man who can either resolve matters—or bring disaster beyond reckoning.”

As Zhao Yu finished speaking, the guard ushered in two burly men in pale blue robes.

The first was short and stocky, with piercing eyes and a short beard at his chin, giving him a shrewd and capable air.

But Zhao Yu’s attention was drawn to the man beside him—over seven feet tall, with a ruddy face, thick brows, and long, narrow eyes half-lidded, radiating a natural authority.

The two men entered the hall, their four eyes fixing unwaveringly on Zhao Yu. They neither spoke nor offered any greeting.

Such behavior was not only discourteous, but carried a hint of threat.

Yan Qing, standing behind Zhao Yu, immediately tensed, his eyes riveted on the pair.

Zhao Yu, however, seemed unconcerned. He smiled faintly and rose to instruct the guards, “Secure the doors. Without my order, no one is to approach.”

Once the guards had withdrawn, Zhao Yu cupped his hands to the tall man and said, “I did not know the great Master Fang himself would honor me with his presence. Forgive me for not welcoming you sooner.”

As he spoke, Lin Chong and Wu Song, having been informed by the guards, entered the hall, standing to either side at the entrance with hands on their swords.

The tall man was indeed Fang La. After hearing reports from Deng Yuanjue, who had returned from the capital, Fang La had long wanted to meet this young prince in person. Now that Zhao Yu had come from the capital and stirred up such commotion, Fang La’s patience had worn thin…