Chapter 13.

Four plates of dim sum were wiped clean by Xue Shu.

Originally, Yin Chengyu intended to teach him a lesson, but watching Xue Shu devour everything without even a frown left him utterly deflated. Especially the thought of the jujube cake he had taken a bite from, only for Xue Shu to eat the rest—it grated on his nerves.

In the past life, Xue Shu had a habit of feeding him food that Xue Shu had already tasted and even insisted on feeding him personally if he refused.

What kind of quirk was that, really?

Now, the roles had reversed. Yet, seeing Xue Shu lick his lips with satisfaction made it hard to ignore the eerie overlap with the previous lifetime. Strangely enough, the one feeling out of sorts was now Yin Chengyu.

Annoyed, he lost interest entirely. Feigning exhaustion, he excused himself and returned to his quarters.

Xue Shu followed closely behind, his presence impossible to ignore. Even without turning back, Yin Chengyu could sense Xue Shu’s piercing gaze fixed on him.

This man resembled a wild wolf, his unyielding stare evoking the feeling he might lunge at any moment to sink his teeth into one’s throat.

Stopping at the door to the inner chamber, Yin Chengyu turned and said coolly, “You don’t need to come in. Summon Zhao Lin.”

Xue Shu froze in his tracks, reluctantly turning to carry out the order.

Zhao Lin was in his room reviewing reports from informants when he received the summons. Hastily tidying up, he thanked Xue Shu and headed off to the main residence.

“No need for thanks,” Xue Shu replied in a low voice, tinged with an imperceptible chill.

Zhao Lin didn’t sense the hostility. If anything, he merely noticed Xue Shu’s gaze linger on him a beat longer than usual. With no time to dwell on it, he hurried away to meet the Crown Prince.

Left behind, Xue Shu’s eyes followed Zhao Lin, his clenched fist hanging at his side.

Am I not more reliable than Zhao Lin?

Meanwhile, Yin Chengyu had changed into more comfortable attire before heading to the study to meet Zhao Lin.

“How is Fang Zhengke’s situation?”

Although Yin Chengyu hadn’t openly intervened or visited Fang Zhengke, he had placed people around him from the moment Fang departed for Tianjin. This served two purposes: staying informed and ensuring Fang Zhengke’s safety against Wan Youliang’s schemes.

“He’s still recovering, under our protection, and temporarily safe,” Zhao Lin reported.

Fang Zhengke had been reviewing Salt Administration records when a sudden fire broke out in the archive. He suffered minor injuries escaping. Of course, the fire was no accident—it was Wan Youliang’s calculated move to destroy evidence. Wan Youliang had even planned for Fang Zhengke to perish in the flames, but Yin Chengyu’s people thwarted that attempt.

Afterward, Fang Zhengke filed a formal request for aid from the court and remained in seclusion under the pretense of recuperating, denying Wan Youliang further opportunities to act.

Clearly, two years at the Salt Administration had emboldened Wan Youliang, whose audacious actions bordered on outright defiance.

After a moment of contemplation, Yin Chengyu instructed, “Hand over the salvaged archives to Fang Zhengke and have him organize them quickly. For now, avoid any rash actions.”

Taking down Wan Youliang now might be easy, but the deeper issue was the entrenched corruption in the salt trade. Without systemic reform, another Wan Youliang would inevitably emerge.

What Yin Chengyu intended wasn’t just to eliminate Wan Youliang but to use him as a breach to dismantle the collusion between officials and merchants, uprooting the longstanding corruption in Da Yan’s salt industry.

With the arrangements set, Yin Chengyu spent the following days exploring Tianjin, still accompanied by Wan Youliang.

To avoid suspicion, he casually proposed inspecting the Changlu Saltworks.

The moment Yin Chengyu brought it up, a flicker of unease crossed Wan Youliang’s mind.

Once he made the arrangements and brought the guest over, he noticed the man aimlessly wandering around. It wasn’t long before the guest lost interest, which allowed him to relax.

It was clear—this was nothing more than a perfunctory visit.

A man raised in the grandeur of the royal palace, someone who probably couldn’t even tell salt from sugar, couldn’t possibly grasp the intricacies of the salt fields.

Relieved, Wan Youliang let his apprehension fade, though he added a few mock grievances for good measure. “Your Highness, I’ve served as Transport Commissioner for over two years now. While I dare not claim perfection, I’ve worked diligently and without a moment’s lapse. Under my tenure, salt tax revenues have risen by 10% compared to previous years. Yet somehow, that Imperial Censor allowed himself to be swayed by petty rumors…” He sighed dramatically, his jowls sagging with feigned sorrow. “I beseech Your Highness—when you return to court, you must speak to His Majesty on my behalf. I am truly wronged!”

Yin Chengyu’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Of course. I would never allow any loyal official to suffer unjustly.”

Encouraged by this response, Wan Youliang chuckled and hurried ahead to lead the way.

After a cursory tour of the salt fields, Yin Chengyu departed. As Wan Youliang saw him off at the carriage, he noticed that his attendant was once again Zheng Duobao—while Xue Shu was nowhere to be seen. His eyes narrowed, piecing together details: Xue Shu hadn’t appeared at the prince’s side for days.

Surely, there had been a major falling-out between the two, so severe they no longer even maintained appearances.

Watching the carriage disappear into the distance, Wan Youliang returned to his residence and personally penned an invitation. Handing it to his steward, he instructed, “Deliver this to Overseer Xue. Discreetly—avoid the crown prince’s men.”

When Xue Shu received Wan Youliang’s note, he immediately sought out Yin Chengyu.

Days had passed without a summons from the crown prince. Whether heading out or staying in, Yin Chengyu had deliberately excluded him, leaving Xue Shu to catch only fleeting glimpses from afar.

This distance might have been tolerable before—but not now. Not after he had once been so close. Close enough to touch.

The sudden coldness gnawed at him, unbearable. Every time he saw Zheng Duobao or Zhao Lin standing near the prince, dark thoughts churned within him.

Why couldn’t he be the one by the prince’s side?

Why couldn’t the prince’s gaze belong solely to him?

The storm of emotions seethed within him, savage and barely contained. Bound by reason, his darker impulses snarled and raged, refusing to be silenced.

Entering the inner chamber, Xue Shu lowered his eyes to mask his turmoil and presented the invitation with practiced composure.

Slender, elegant hands took the note from his grasp.

Xue Shu’s gaze lingered, fixed on those hands, their beauty drawing him into a spiral of obsession.

Unaware, Yin Chengyu opened the note, scanning its contents. He chuckled coldly before tossing it back. “Attend the banquet. Whatever he says, agree to it. Keep him on a leash.”

“Yes.” Xue Shu secured the invitation, his voice strained from tension.

Even after accepting his orders, Xue Shu remained rooted to the spot. Yin Chengyu frowned. “You’re dismissed.”

Xue Shu lifted his head, his dark gaze locking onto the prince’s. Predatory and intense, his eyes brimmed with unspoken desire and challenge. But in the end, he said nothing, forcing out a low “Understood” before turning to leave.

Yin Chengyu watched him retreat, his brow furrowing deeply.

Was it just his imagination, or was this version of Xue Shu growing more like his past self?

Impossible.

The Xue Shu of this timeline was still raw, unrefined, and not yet eighteen. He was years away from becoming the enigmatic and dangerous figure known in another life.

*

For several days, Xue Shu indulged in endless revelry, answering Wan Youliang’s invitations without hesitation.

To win him over, Wan Youliang spared no expense. Gold and silver filled four or five chests that Xue Shu had sent back to his quarters.

Meanwhile, Yin Chengyu feigned indifference to their interactions. Instead, he spent his days leisurely touring Tianjin's attractions with his attendants and guards.

Initially, Wan Youliang arranged for officials to accompany Yin Chengyu on his outings. But after Yin Chengyu insisted on going unescorted and displayed no suspicious behavior, Wan Youliang stopped sending anyone to shadow him.

Finally free from prying eyes, Yin abandoned the bustling markets and ventured into the cramped, twisting alleys of the commoners' quarters.

These narrow streets reeked of an indescribable salty stench, littered with filth at every turn. Yet Yin Chengyu showed no disgust, walking through each lane and pausing to study open doorways.

After half a day exploring five or six alleys, he returned to his quarters. His once-fragrant clothes were now permeated with the odors of the streets.

As Zheng Duobao assisted him in bathing and changing, he couldn’t help but ask, perplexed, “Your Highness, with your noble status, why visit such grimy places?”

“To uncover evidence of illegal salt trade, of course,” Yin replied, exhaling slowly as the hot water soothed him.

The illicit salt trade in Tianjin was far worse than when he investigated it in his previous life.

Back then, the Yu family was implicated, and the nation’s Grand Secretary fell from grace, bringing ruin upon his entire household. The scandal sent a shockwave through the salt administration, and by the time Yin Chengyu investigated in Changlu five years later, the situation had notably improved.

At least back then, not every household had pots for boiling salt in their courtyards.

Illegal salt trade took many forms:

Field smuggling, where salt field workers colluded with merchants to steal and sell official salt.

Merchant smuggling, involving illicit trade by salt merchants.

Official smuggling, where corrupt officials exploited their positions to sell salt licenses and official salt.

Neighboring smuggling, violating exclusive trade policies by selling in unauthorized areas.

Outlaw smuggling, driven by criminal groups that recruited desperate commoners into the trade, some even daring to challenge local authorities. [1]

Tianjin was plagued by all of them.

Officials turned a blind eye or actively participated, merchants partnered with shipping guilds to smuggle salt south, and salt smugglers ruled the streets unchecked.

The commoners boiling salt in back alleys were merely the smallest cogs in this vast operation. Exploited by officials, merchants, shipping guilds, and criminal overlords, they barely earned enough to survive while enduring relentless oppression.

The surge in illegal salt left official salt unsold, draining tax revenue and hollowing out the national treasury. A depleted treasury meant increased taxation, burdening the people further while enriching the corrupt.

The vicious cycle left the masses to suffer while feeding the greed of fat rats.

Yin Chengyu brooded in silence for a long time before donning fresh clothes. Letting his long hair fall loosely behind him, he strode toward the side chamber and ordered, “Summon Xue Shu.”

To shatter Tianjin’s impenetrable web of corruption, he would have to dismantle it from within.

———AN: See “Rampant Private Salt Smuggling during the Ming and Qing Dynasties”