Chapter 97.

Not long after Yin Chengyu and his men left the capital, Emperor Longfeng followed his planned schedule and retreated to the imperial hot springs palace outside the city to recuperate. Yin Ciguang, still attending to his duties as a personal attendant, accompanied him.

Meanwhile, Xue Shu, as the Emperor's most trusted confidant, was left behind to manage state affairs. Minor decisions were handled jointly with the scholars of the Inner Cabinet, while major matters were referred to the Emperor at the palace.

It was a quiet season, with little happening besides reports of a snow disaster in Huguang. The capital's officials, with time on their hands, indulged in leisurely banquets and casual gossip.

Naturally, conversation veered toward the Crown Prince, who had gone to Huguang to manage disaster relief, and the favored First Prince, who remained by the Emperor's side.

Whispers spread like wildfire. It was said the Emperor favored the First Prince more than the Crown Prince. The story of the First Prince disguising himself as a woman years ago wasn't some divine intervention-it was a calculated move. Back then, the Emperor's throne was unstable, and he feared the birth of his eldest son would offend the Empress and her powerful Yu family. Hence, the charade.

Now, with the throne secure and the First Prince nearing adulthood, his recent achievements during the plague outbreak made him a standout. He wasn't inferior to the Crown Prince in ability, and his frequent presence at the Emperor's side only added fuel to the rumors. Some speculated the Emperor intended to pit the First Prince against the Crown Prince for the throne.

Everyone knew that disputes over succession-especially between the Crown Prince and the eldest prince-were always volatile.

For years, the Crown Prince had relied on the Yu family's support and accumulated numerous achievements. Yet, it was no secret that the Emperor neither liked the Crown Prince nor the Yu family. This left many in the court second-guessing the Emperor's intentions and quietly betting on the Second or Third Prince instead.

However, with the Second Prince's sudden death and the First Prince stepping into the spotlight, everything changed.

Unlike the younger Third Prince, who lacked influence and accomplishments, the First Prince had the Emperor's favor and the claim of being the eldest. Even though he had yet to establish solid political foundations, his odds of ascending to power now surpassed those of the Third Prince.

Soon, rumors swirled through the capital-Emperor Longfeng might break tradition and support the First Prince as his heir.

Xue Shu flipped through a detailed report, meticulously documenting which officials had gathered, where they met, and what they had said regarding the debate over "legitimacy versus seniority" in succession.

This wasn't the only report of its kind. Ever since Yin Ciguang left for the hot springs palace with the Emperor, rumors like these had exploded across the capital.

Some of it was undoubtedly allowed by the Emperor himself, but much of it was someone behind the scenes fanning the flames.

Xue Shu didn't need an investigation to know who was behind this. It was either Noble Consort Wen or Yin Chengjing.

Which one didn't matter. Both were enemies who needed to be eliminated sooner or later.

Xue Shu called for Wei Xihe.

Wei Xihe, now the commander supervisor of the Western Bureau, was nominally subordinate to the Western Bureau's chief. However, after Xue Shu's strategic humiliation of Zhao Youwei, the chief had fallen in line, leaving Wei Xihe in de facto control of the bureau and firmly loyal to Xue Shu.

"Spread a rumor," Xue Shu ordered coldly. "Say the Third Prince was injured during the winter hunt and is no longer capable of... fulfilling a man's duties."

Rumors are hard to refute, especially those involving the imperial succession. The instigators behind the current gossip were trying to sow discord between Yin Chengyu and Yin Ciguang, provoking infighting between the two.

If that was their game, Xue Shu would counter with an even more salacious rumor to overshadow theirs.

People are forgetful. Give them a new scandal, and the old one will fade.

Wei Xihe was momentarily surprised but quickly grasped the intent. "Understood."

Two days later, the capital buzzed with a fresh scandal, dripping with salacious detail.

Word on the street was that the Third Prince, struck dumb by the sight of the Tatar princess during the winter hunt, fell head over heels for her. But the princess? She had her sights set higher-on the Crown Prince. Jealous and seething, the Third Prince allegedly seized his chance during the hunt and forced himself on her.

But the Tatar princess was no meek victim. A fiery spirit like hers wouldn't take such humiliation lying down. Enraged, she supposedly drugged the Third Prince, knocked him out cold, and-get this-castrated him.

When they carried the Third Prince out of the hunting grounds, bloodied and broken, the sight was said to be terrifying. The Tatar delegation, desperate to salvage some shred of dignity, reportedly handed over the princess as a concubine for the Third Prince.

The truth of the tale? A tangled mess of fact and fiction. But one thing's for sure-the story spread like wildfire. It didn't even need the Eastern or Western Bureau spies to fan the flames. Within two days, the rumor had spawned countless variations, each juicier and more vivid than the last, as if the storytellers had witnessed it all firsthand.

The officials who accompanied the imperial entourage to the hunt? Their doorsteps were practically worn down by curious visitors. This story was too explosive to ignore. Driven by curiosity, political ambition, or both, the capital's elite were desperate to uncover the truth of what happened that day.

And surprisingly, some details from the rumors lined up with the officials' accounts. It was true-the Third Prince was carried out of the hunting grounds, blood staining his lower body.

The official explanation? He'd injured his thigh while heroically rescuing the Tatar princess.

Injured his thigh? Please. The more they denied it, the more it sounded like a cover-up.

Even the Third Prince's future father-in-law, Left Commander Yao Zhao'an of the Five Armies, couldn't sit still. He marched straight to the prince's residence, demanding answers.

Rumor had it, the Third Prince was so furious afterward he smashed an entire room to pieces.

But now, the focus of every whispered conversation wasn't on the Crown Prince or the First Prince and their battle for legitimacy. No, all eyes were glued to one question: Could the Third Prince still, ahem, perform?

Xue Shu skimmed through the report Wei Xihe had sent him, sneering coldly. "Let them stew in this mess for a while. Once I'm back, I'll deal with them myself."

"Leaving tomorrow, Sir?" Wei Xihe asked.

"Tonight. The capital's in your hands, yours and Cui Ci's. Keep stirring the pot. Don't let them have a moment's peace."

As Yin Chengyu headed to Huguang, Xue Shu had his men release another tantalizing tidbit: there was an immortal on Mount Wudang. A sage with profound knowledge, capable of unraveling past lives and future fates.

The rumor eventually made its way to Emperor Longfeng's ears. Weakened and aged by illness, the emperor had grown devoutly religious, clinging to faith as his strength waned. Upon hearing the news, he immediately summoned Xue Shu, ordering him to invite the sage to the capital.

Naturally, Xue Shu didn't hesitate.

It had been six or seven days since his master had left the capital, and he could hardly wait to reunite.

*

Yin Chengyu, accompanied by four Ministry of Revenue officials and several local authorities, spent nearly six days inspecting the disaster-stricken prefectures of Huguang.

After confirming the severity of the situation, he ordered local officials to register affected households, document their losses, and prepare detailed reports. Once these were sent to the capital for review, the afflicted regions would be granted a three-year tax exemption.

But exempting taxes was a long-term solution. The immediate disaster required urgent relief-supplies had to be secured fast.

The bitter cold and treacherous roads meant that grain from nearby storage depots would take at least two weeks to arrive-far too long for starving people to wait.

"Distant water won't quench immediate thirst," Yin Chengyu muttered.

He pondered aloud, "Huguang, a land of fish and rice, is home to many wealthy landlords. With the people suffering, we can appeal to these elites for donations of grain and money to provide aid."

These wealthy families, with their sprawling estates, surely had ample reserves of grain. Historically, disaster relief had always relied on both the imperial court and local gentry. In return, the court would honor donors with public recognition-commemorative steles etched with their deeds.

However, Prefect Yu hesitated, his expression conflicted. After a pause, he admitted, "Your Highness, before the snowstorm reports even reached the capital, some gentry and merchants had already offered grain for relief. But..." He faltered, clenching his jaw before continuing, "But those who donated or even refrained from raising prices were later threatened by the Sanjiang Merchant Guild. Since then, no one dares to contribute."

The Sanjiang Merchant Guild was the largest commercial chamber in Huguang, controlling trade in grain, textiles, salt, wine, tea, and river transport. Their reach extended across all thirteen provinces and the two capitals. Any merchant of note in Huguang was under their thumb.

Membership in the guild granted access to valuable trade networks but required merchants to fork over a hefty 20% cut of their profits.

Headquartered in Wuchang, the guild was led by Zhou Zhiling, a scholar-turned-merchant. Zhou's wife, a distant relative of the influential Shao family in the capital, had bolstered his rise. Thanks to this connection, Zhou Zhiling had transformed Sanjiang into a regional powerhouse. Even local officials often sought his favor.

Under the previous provincial governor, a man cozy with Zhou Zhiling, Sanjiang was quick to assist in disaster relief.

But the current governor, Jiang Zheng, had been in office for two years and was a rigidly upright man, detesting the corruption that entangled officials and merchants. He had rebuffed Zhou Zhiling's overtures, enforced strict anti-corruption measures, and rejected bribes outright.

Last year, when a young Zhou family member broke the law, the family pleaded for leniency. Jiang Zheng slammed the door in their faces, ensuring the culprit was exiled to a remote region.

Now, as the snowstorm wreaked havoc, Zhou Zhiling wasn't just withholding aid; he was actively blocking others. Worse, the guild was hoarding essential goods-grain, cloth, firewood-driving up prices.

Even modestly well-off families struggled to afford basic winter supplies, let alone the destitute.

Governor Jiang had tried to negotiate, sending Prefect Yu to reason with Zhou Zhiling. But Zhou Zhiling, ever shrewd, feigned helplessness, blaming the harsh weather and claiming logistical difficulties. He insisted the rising prices were necessary to cover costs, refusing to budge.

Though precedent favored gentry donations, Jiang Zheng couldn't force contributions. Nor could he crack down on price gouging without legal grounds. He had no choice but to look for alternative solutions.

"Distant relatives of the Shao family in the capital?" Yin Chengyu snorted, the pieces falling into place. So that's why Shao Tian had pushed for a royal presence in Huguang's disaster relief efforts.

"And the Sanjiang Guild-any history of criminal activity?" Yin asked sharply.

"None," Prefect Yu replied. "Both Zhou Zhiling and the guild have maintained an impeccable reputation in Huguang. Zhou Zhiling, in particular, is celebrated as a philanthropist."

"A true philanthropist doesn't profiteer during a snowstorm," Yin Chengyu said, tapping his fingers against the table as he contemplated how to handle the guild.

If Zhou Zhiling or his guild had any skeletons in their closet, Yin Chengyu could seize the opportunity to confiscate their wealth under legal pretense, funneling it into disaster relief.

But if Zhou Zhiling had played his cards cleanly, taking him down wouldn't be easy.

As Yin Chengyu brooded, a familiar voice cut through the icy air outside the door: "The Eastern Bureau specializes in uncovering secrets. No matter how sly the fox, it can't outwit us. Why not leave this matter to me, Your Highness?"

Yin Chengyu looked up to see Xue Shu, dusted with snow, striding in with his usual swagger.

---Author's note: Big dog: Crossing a thousand miles to find my wife.

---TN: Wherever my wife goes, you can bet I'm right there with him-always, unapologetically, and exactly where I need to be.