In the eleventh month of the thirty-third year of Kaiping, a heavy winter snow fell in Shengjing.

Thick, dense snowflakes, like goose feathers, drifted down from the sky, blanketing the capital in a silvery-white coat. The snow continued for three days, and by the final day, the roads had become nearly impassable. The government mandated that every citizen clear the snow from their rooftops to prevent collapses.

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In previous years, this task had been the responsibility of the Ministry of Works, which collaborated with the Shengjing government to oversee the snow-clearing efforts.

This year, Tang Shen had become the Right Vice Minister of the Ministry of Works. He summoned the official in charge of the task and asked, “How many households are there in Shengjing?”

The official replied smoothly, “There are ninety-six thousand registered households.”

Shengjing was the capital of the Song Dynasty. Although the official referred to “registered households,” in such a large city, unregistered households were impossible to hide. The ancients favored large families, and assuming an average of five people per household, this would amount to half a million people. In reality, Shengjing had over a million inhabitants.

Tang Shen carefully instructed the official to ensure that this year’s snow-clearing task was thoroughly carried out. By the time he returned to the Ministry of Works’ residence, the snow had stopped. Tang Shen arrived home but did not find Wang Zhen there.

The Ministry of Works had recently been busy with the construction of Chengqing Palace, and Tang Shen was swamped with work. However, everyone knew that the busiest person in the entire court at the moment was Wang Zhen, the Department of State Affairs’ Senior Grand Secretary of the Left.

Wang Zhen oversaw the Silver Pull Division in both Youzhou and Shengjing. Recently, the emperor had issued a decree to convert the Ministry of War’s Military Silver Exchange Bank in thirty-six provinces into the Great Song Silver Banks. From then on, they would no longer serve only the military but also the common people.

Towards all worldly affairs, the emperor only needed to issue a decree, which might seem simple and effortless. However, implementing the few words on that decree was an incredibly difficult task.

The bloodshed that occurred in the Revenue And Expenditure Department five years ago served as a cautionary tale. Now, the Silver Pull Division had to avoid repeating past mistakes while striving for perfection. Even with the support of all the officials, it still required a great deal of effort from Wang Zhen.

It was the depths of winter, and as the officials prepared to take their New Year’s break, most of the Silver Pull Division’s tasks were postponed until the following year.

Yu Chaosheng, the Left Deputy Imperial Censor of the Silver Pull Division, was currently working in the Ministry of Justice. As the Minister of Justice, he was responsible for overseeing the submission of all criminal cases from across the country to Shengjing by the end of the year, to be stored and reviewed in the Ministry of Justice’s archives.

Yu Chaosheng was busy with internal affairs when an official hurried into the room, holding his official hat. Yu Chaosheng stopped speaking and looked up. The official knelt and reported, “The Senior Grand Secretary of the Left from the Department of State Affairs has arrived.”

Everyone in the room was startled.

Yu Chaosheng was momentarily stunned, then quickly stood up and went out to greet Wang Zhen, who was entering the Ministry of Justice.

Yu Chaosheng approached and bowed, “This lower official, Yu Chaosheng, greets Wang daren.”

Wang Zhen was dressed in the official robes of a first-rank official, holding a white folding fan in his right hand. Although it hadn’t snowed in the past few days, carrying a fan in such weather might seem like an affectation. For anyone else, it would have appeared pretentious, but for Wang Zhen, it seemed perfectly natural, without any hint of incongruity.

The officials of the Ministry of Justice inwardly remarked, “Wang daren is truly extraordinary,” but none of them showed it outwardly.

Wang Zhen closed the fan with a snap, his slender fingers twirling the fan’s ribs before pointing the handle toward Yu Chaosheng.

Wang Zhen’s voice was gentle, “Last year in Youzhou, you mentioned that you liked the fan I was carrying. I’ve brought it for you today. Do you like it?”

Yu Chaosheng was completely taken aback. He quickly searched his memory and recalled the incident.

Last year, Wang Zhen and Yu Chaosheng had traveled to Youzhou on official business. Although they each had their own carriages, there were times when they had to be alone together. The journey from Shengjing to Youzhou was long, and Yu Chaosheng and Wang Zhen had known each other for a long time. This so-called knowing each other often refers to having heard of the other’s great reputation for a long time but never actually meeting them in person. Yu Chaosheng felt somewhat awkward, so one day, when the two were dining at a relay station, he casually complimented Wang Zhen, saying, “Wang daren, this fan is exquisite. The calligraphy on it seems to be your own work. The characters are strong and clear, with a natural elegance. Truly excellent.”

To think that Wang Zhen had remembered this! Yu Chaosheng had no choice but to reach out and accept the fan, inscribed with Wang Zhen’s own calligraphy. He even had to express his gratitude, “I never expected you to remember this, Wang daren. I am deeply grateful.”

Wang Zhen smiled, “Shall we go inside to talk?”

Yu Chaosheng stepped aside, “Please.”

The two entered Yu Chaosheng’s office, while the other officials of the Ministry of Justice exchanged glances but dared not follow. Shortly after, the Vice Ministers of Justice heard that Wang Zhen had arrived and hurried over to pay their respects.

Soon, only the three highest-ranking officials of the Ministry of Justice, Wang Zhen, and an obscure fourth-rank official from the Silver Pull Division, Lin Xu, remained in the room.

Yu Chaosheng personally prepared tea for Wang Zhen. He had many speculations in his mind and had already guessed Wang Zhen’s purpose for visiting.

But Wang Zhen did not mention any other matters. Instead, he spoke about calligraphy and the tea in his hand. Yu Chaosheng’s thoughts began to waver. He even started to wonder if Wang Zhen’s visit was truly just to socialize.

Wang Zhen gently stirred the tea with the lid, his tone calm, “It has been fourteen years, hasn’t it?”

Yu Chaosheng thought for a moment, “Indeed, it has been fourteen years.”

Wang Zhen sighed, “How time flies.”

Yu Chaosheng sipped his tea in silence.

Wang Zhen continued, “Do you remember the day we rode through the streets after being named on the imperial examination honor roll?”

Yu Chaosheng smiled, “It has been fourteen years. My memory is hazy.”

Wang Zhen looked at him deeply and smiled slightly.

As Yu Chaosheng observed Wang Zhen’s calm and composed demeanor, a wave of helpless resentment surged within him. But it was a futile resentment, powerless and fleeting, quickly discarded by its owner.

For jealousy is the most useless of emotions.

Fourteen years ago, in the fourth month of the nineteenth year of Kaiping, he had been named the second-place scholar in the imperial examination, riding through the streets alongside the top scholar and the third-place scholar.

A hazy memory?

How could it be hazy!

That year, after leaving Jiying Hall, the three of them followed the white jade dragon vein all the way to the palace gates. It should have been the most glorious moment of his life, yet from the emperor who had named him the second-place scholar to the citizens of Shengjing waiting outside the palace gates, not a single person’s eyes reflected his presence.

Everyone only saw the top scholar standing at the forefront. Yu Chaosheng engraved that person’s name deep in his heart.

Wang Zhen, Wang Zifeng.

Now he had reached forty, but every scene from that year was still vividly etched in his mind. How could he ever forget!

Yu Chaosheng smiled and said, “Speaking of which, daren and I were once fellow classmates. It’s just a pity that shortly after the procession, only a year later, I left Shengjing and did not return for many years.”

Wang Zhen replied, “I remember, you went to Jiangnan as a military commander.”

“You still remember that? Yes, I first went to Qiantang as a commander for half a year, and later I was transferred to Xingzhou.”

“How long has it been since you last visited Jiangnan?”

“It’s been about three years.”

“Next year might be a good time to visit again.”

Yu Chaosheng was stunned and looked up at Wang Zhen.

Wang Zhen’s expression was calm. He smiled at Yu Chaosheng with a deep gaze and said composedly, “The Jiangnan Silver Pull Division is probably still waiting for you to take charge.”

Yu Chaosheng opened his mouth but remained silent for a long time before finally saying, “I am well aware, but the Ministry of Justice is extremely busy. Next spring might be a bit rushed.”

“Rushed?” Wang Zhen glanced at the Vice Ministers of Justice sitting below and asked with concern, “Has the Ministry of Justice been very busy lately?”

The Left Vice Minister, a close confidant of Yu Chaosheng, immediately chimed in, “Reporting to daren, all the cases from the entire year have been submitted to the Ministry of Justice. We are currently swamped with work.”

Wang Zhen asked, “Is it because you are rushing to archive everything before the end of the year that you are so busy?”

At this point, both Yu Chaosheng and the Left Vice Minister realized they had fallen into Wang Zifeng’s trap, but neither could refute it. They could only widen their eyes and honestly reply, “…Yes.”

Wang Zhen smiled, “It has been a long time since you last visited Jiangnan. You must miss it dearly. I have been to Qiantang a few times myself. Why not visit Jinling this time? Jinling and Qiantang each have their own unique charm.”

With that, Wang Zhen stood up, ready to leave with Lin Xu.

Yu Chaosheng had originally not planned to get involved with the Jiangnan Silver Pull Division. At the very least, he intended to delay matters to make things difficult for Wang Zhen. This was something he had long agreed upon with his mentor, Xu Bi. Since they could not change the inevitable establishment of the Great Song Silver Bank, they would drag it out as long as possible.

Xu Bi had told him, “Delays breed complications. There will always be those who do not wish to see the Great Song Silver Bank come to fruition.”

Thinking of this, Yu Chaosheng stood up and said urgently, “Daren…”

“Yu daren.” Wang Zhen suddenly stopped and turned around, his gaze slightly cold. “Is there something else?”

Yu Chaosheng’s lips moved, but in the end, not a single word came out.

Wang Zhen smiled, “Xian Zhi, you and I are fellow scholars from the same examination year. We haven’t had a proper conversation in all these years. How about we share a meal together after you return from Jiangnan next spring?”

“Yes.”

Wang Zhen left the Ministry of Justice almost having single-handedly charged in.

Soon, it was the twelfth lunar month.

On the ninth day of the twelfth month, as the officials’ holiday approached, Tang Shen was busy trying to complete the tasks for Chengqing Palace before the New Year while also overseeing the snow-clearing efforts. However, Wang Zhen was even busier than him, often returning home in the dead of night or simply staying overnight at the office.

By the sixteenth day of the twelfth month, after four days apart, Tang Shen finally saw his senior brother again.

Tang Shen’s heart stirred, but before he could speak, Wang Zhen pulled him into a tight embrace.

“Don’t speak. It’s late. Let’s rest together.”

“…Alright.”

As soon as he touched the bed, Wang Zhen fell into a deep sleep. Tang Shen gazed at his elegant and refined features, feeling a pang of sympathy. Five years ago, when he had told Wang Zifeng about the contents of that memorial, he had never imagined things would turn out like this.

His senior brother had exhausted himself for the Silver Pull Division. This was the greatest task he had undertaken for the emperor and the most significant contribution he had made to the Great Song Dynasty. He did it for the sake of future generations and the long-lasting prosperity of the people.

Tang Shen let out a long sigh and also fell asleep.

The next day, after the morning court session, Wang Zhen was busy again, and Tang Shen went to the Ministry of Works. Shortly after arriving, a government officer came to report that an old acquaintance had come to visit.

Tang Shen raised an eyebrow, “An old acquaintance? From where?”

The government officer replied, “Reporting to daren, the person is from Qinzhou and seems to be a cavalry captain.”

Tang Shen was surprised: A cavalry captain from Qinzhou? He knew someone like that?

A cavalry captain was a sixth-rank military officer, a local military official.

Tang Shen said, “Bring him in.”

“Yes.”

Before long, the government officer led a middle-aged man in. The man kept his head down, his eyes fixed on the ground, making it difficult for Tang Shen to see his face. Tang Shen found his figure somewhat familiar and said, “Who are you? Look up.”

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Only then did the cavalry captain dare to raise his head.

Their eyes met, and Tang Shen exclaimed in surprise, “Xu Hui?”

Xu Hui forced a bitter smile and said, “This lower official, Xu Hui, Cavalry Captain of Qinzhou, pays his respects to Tang daren.”

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As Xu Bi’s voice fell, an uproar erupted within Zichen Hall.

Seated on the dragon throne, Zhao Fu leaned slightly to the side, gazing down at the powerful ministers assembled beneath the jade steps. After a long pause, he spoke in a slow, measured tone, “Minister Xu, why do you believe this should not be done?”

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Xu Bi remained as composed as ever. He was always detached, untouched by joy or sorrow. When Left Prime Minister Ji was still in office, Xu Bi was the most well-liked among the four prime ministers. Tang Shen had once worked under him for a year and had to admit that Prime Minister Xu was courteous and magnanimous, never making things difficult for him.

Not just Tang Shen—even Zhao Fu had not expected Xu Bi to be the first to stand in opposition.

Of all people, it should not have been Xu Bi. He was never one to contend, never one to take center stage.

Wang Zhen lowered his gaze to the golden bricks of the hall. Beside him, Prime Minister Xu spoke in a calm voice, “The Silver Pull Division has been established for over three years, yet the Military Silver Exchange Bank under the Ministry of War has only been implemented across thirty-six prefectures since last year. The flood in Jizhou this past August has just passed—natural disasters have left the people displaced, struggling to survive. At such a time, our priority should be to resettle the refugees.

“Our Great Song is like a fierce tiger with its belly carved open. If the Military Silver Exchange Bank serve solely the Ministry of War, it is undoubtedly beneficial, gladdening the hearts of the troops and easing the needs of the people. But if they are to serve the millions of common folk, how could the expenditure be merely a trifle? This would be an undue burden on the people and a waste of resources. Your Majesty, please reconsider!”

Wang Zhen’s tone was gentle. “If Prime Minister Xu is worried about the state treasury’s funds, then you need not concern yourself. As Minister of Revenue, I assure you that since the tenth year of Kaiping, the treasury has been plentiful each year. Utilizing it for disaster relief would not weaken the nation in the slightest.”

Xu Bi chuckled. “And what of manpower?”

Wang Zhen turned his head, his clear eyes meeting Xu Bi’s.

Before he could respond, another figure stepped forward from the front ranks of the civil officials.

Left Vice Prime Minister Chen Linghai raised his jade tablet high and declared in a loud voice, “I, too, believe this should not be done.”

Tang Shen abruptly turned his head, his gaze locking onto Chen Linghai.

He hadn’t expected the next to speak out would be Vice Prime Minister Chen. If Xu Bi opposed the measure because he came from an aristocratic family and the establishment of the Great Song Silver Bank threatened the interests of the nobility, then what of Chen Linghai? He was born into poverty, and the Great Song Silver Bank was undeniably a great reform for the people. Why would he oppose it?

Then, realization struck him—four years ago, when Right Prime Minister Wang Quan proposed and ultimately established the Revenue And Expenditure Department, Chen Linghai had also voiced opposition.

With two prime ministers now openly objecting, Wang Zhen stood at the forefront of the ministers. He lifted his head and looked toward Zhao Fu.

Zhao Fu met his gaze, silent and inscrutable.

No one knew what passed between ruler and minister in that brief exchange—what they realized, what they understood.

Then, Zhao Fu raised his hand. “In that case, we shall discuss this matter again tomorrow.”

Ji Fu immediately announced in his sharp voice, “Court is dismissed!”

Inside Zichen Hall, the officials bowed their heads, holding their jade tablets, waiting for the emperor to leave the hall step by step.

Tang Shen stood among the third-rank officials. After the emperor left, it was the turn of the first-rank ministers. From the corner of his eye, he saw one official robe after another pass by him—new, identical garments. Yet amidst the sea of officials, Tang Shen recognized Wang Zhen at a glance.

As Wang Zhen passed him, he did not slow his pace. His expression remained composed, his stride steady as he walked out of Zichen Hall.

The moment he stepped beyond the hall’s threshold, the harsh sunlight struck down upon him. Wang Zifeng squinted slightly, as if unaccustomed to the sudden brightness. When his eyes adjusted, he saw Xu Bi standing a short distance away, his hands clasped before him, smiling up at him from the foot of the steps.

Their gazes met for a brief moment before Wang Zhen descended the steps and saluted slightly. “Prime Minister Xu.”

Xu Bi returned the salute. “Minister Wang.”

It was as if they had never been at odds in Zichen Hall, as if the sharp confrontation had never occurred. Now, the two men walked side by side toward the palace gates.

Xu Bi, being older, had a slightly hunched back. Standing beside Wang Zifeng, he appeared noticeably shorter. With a kindly smile, he sighed softly and said, “Minister Wang, do you truly believe I am unwilling to see the Great Song Silver Bank established?”

Wang Zhen raised an eyebrow. “Why would Prime Minister Xu think so? Your reasoning was not without merit.”

Xu Bi chuckled. “I once heard Xian Zhi speak of the Military Silver Exchange Banks. Xian Zhi is the head of the Jiangnan Silver Pull Division, how could I not know this is a great undertaking for the nation and its people?” He looked at Wang Zhen intently, his expression solemn. “But, Minister Wang, you are still too young—too impatient! In another five years, the Great Song Silver Bank will surely thrive and benefit the people. But look at the current time—has it come yet? The bloodshed from the Revenue And Expenditure Department case is still fresh! You are young—why can’t you wait just five more years?”

Wang Zhen bowed deeply. “I will take Prime Minister Xu’s words to heart.”

They shared a smile and left the palace together.

First-rank officials were allowed to take carriages once outside the palace. Standing beside their respective carriages, Wang Zhen and Xu Bi spoke a little longer, their conversation carrying the air of old friends meeting late in life. Only after repeated farewells did they finally board their carriages—one heading toward the Ministry of Revenue, the other toward Qinzheng Hall.

Inside his carriage, Xu Bi still wore a gentle smile, his gaze deep and wise.

In another carriage, Wang Zhen picked up a book as soon as he sat down. It was Collected Writings of Wenxun, the last book compiled by Fu Wei before he retired to his hometown. He read quietly, his slender fingers tapping lightly against the window frame. After a long moment, he instructed the driver, “To Qinzheng Hall.”

The driver responded, and the carriage changed direction.

Upon arriving, Wang Zhen had barely reached his office when he encountered someone in the corridor.

Left Vice Prime Minister Chen Linghai had just returned from court as well. He paused upon seeing Wang Zhen.

Wang Zhen saluted first, and Chen Linghai returned the gesture.

Then, with a complex expression, Chen Linghai sighed, “After all these years, I have more or less discerned what you all intend to do. This is a grand endeavor—a legacy for the ages, something His Majesty wishes to be remembered for. But Wang daren, do you understand how difficult this is? The Revenue And Expenditure Department’s case—have you forgotten? You are challenging an immense force. Can you truly bear the weight of this?”

Wang Zhen widened his eyes in surprise. “Prime Minister Chen, you…”

Chen Linghai’s voice was heavy with meaning. “If it could be done, how could I not wish for it? But Zi Feng, I was once well acquainted with your teacher. How could I stand by and watch you plunge into an abyss? This is no mere matter of today or even the next hundred years. How can you possibly succeed? Do not go down the wrong path!”

When Tang Shen returned to Qinzheng Hall after court, he made his way directly to Wang Zhen’s office without hesitation.

As if expecting him, Wang Zhen was already brewing tea. Rolling up his white sleeves, he poured the clear tea into the teacup. Looking up, he smiled at Tang Shen and gestured for him to come closer.

Tang Shen instinctively stepped forward, intending to sit across from him.

But before he could, Wang Zifeng suddenly stood and pulled him into an embrace.

“Senior Brother?” Tang Shen asked in surprise.

Wang Zhen held onto him, drawing him to sit beside him, their shoulders pressed together.

“Coming to see me right after court—this must be about the Silver Pull Division?”

Tang Shen nodded. “Of course. Senior Brother, what do you think should be done now?”

Wang Zhen smiled. “As it happens, I wanted to discuss something with you. After leaving Zichen Hall, I met with two people—Prime Minister Xu and Prime Minister Chen. You know they both opposed the proposal this morning, but in private, they said something very different.”

“Prime Minister Xu said I was too hasty, suggesting that if I wait a few more years, I could achieve success and fame.”

“Prime Minister Chen said I was on a misguided path, fearing that I might end up with a reputation that would stink for millennia, and hoped I would extricate myself soon.”

“What do you think?”

Tang Shen’s eyes widened, “They said these things privately?”

Wang Zhen nodded, “Indeed.”

Tang Shen had a rough idea in his mind, but he didn’t voice it. Instead, he asked Wang Zhen, “Does the sudden decree from His Majesty today have anything to do with you, Senior Brother?”

Wang Zhen looked at him seriously and smiled, “Yes, the day before yesterday I submitted a memorial to His Majesty discussing this matter. That’s why His Majesty issued the decree.”

Tang Shen had no more doubts. He said confidently, “In that case, there’s no need to pay any more attention to what those two prime ministers said.”

“Why is that?”

“Because, Senior Brother, if you think the time is right to accomplish this, then it will surely be accomplished.”

Tang Shen spoke with absolute confidence, as if he had seen Wang Zhen’s memorial himself, as if he had submitted it. Wang Zhen stared at him in astonishment, his heart surging with joy and love that filled his entire being. But he suppressed his excitement and calmly asked, “Oh? You have so much confidence in me?”

Tang Shen replied as if it were the most natural thing, “Because you are Wang Zifeng!”

Unable to hold back his laughter, Wang Zhen laughed heartily, then leaned down and kissed the young man beside him.

My heart delights in you, simply because you are the most worthy person in this world for me to love!

The two prime ministers had voiced their opposition during the morning court session, and the matter of the Great Song Silver Bank had also drawn the attention of the court officials. The next day, as soon as the chief eunuch announced the start of the morning court, the officials began to voice their opinions and take sides. The previous day had been sudden, and they hadn’t known how to react. But after a day of private deliberation, they had formed their views and now argued like ants on a hot pan, their faces red with fervor, bickering incessantly.

In contrast, the three high-ranking officials who had spoken the day before now held their jade tablets and remained silent.

After a whole morning of arguing, Emperor Zhao Fu said in displeasure, “My ministers all have their own views. Are we now to decide based on who shouts the loudest?”

The officials immediately fell silent, not daring to make a sound.

Emperor Zhao Fu waved his hand, “Court is dismissed.”

Another day passed.

On the third day, the court continued to debate fiercely over the Great Song Silver Bank. After half a month of arguments, a military report arrived from Youzhou. Grand Marshal, Grand Preceptor Zhou submitted a memorial vigorously praising the role of the Ministry of War’s Military Silver Exchange Bank. In his memorial, he detailed the various benefits of the Military Silver Exchange Bank across thirty-six provinces.

When Emperor Zhao Fu ordered the memorial to be read aloud during the morning court, the officials were visibly surprised.

Left Prime Minister Xu Bi lowered his gaze to the ground, his fingers tightly gripping his white jade tablet.

Left Vice Prime Minister Chen Linghai couldn’t hide his astonishment and turned to look at Wang Zhen.

Even Wang Quan secretly glanced at his nephew several times, only to see Wang Zifeng with his eyes downcast, calm and composed, as if he had no idea that Grand Preceptor Zhou would suddenly submit such a memorial praising the Silver Pull Division.

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After the memorial was read, Emperor Zhao Fu waved his hand and asked, “Do my ministers still have any objections?”

No one spoke up.

Emperor Zhao Fu scanned the room, his gaze finally settling on Wang Zhen. He smiled and said, “Zi Feng.”

Wang Zhen stepped forward and bowed, “Your subject receives the decree.”

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When Tang Shen had once achieved top honors in the imperial examinations and paraded through the streets on horseback, he had thought to himself that his greatest aspiration was to serve in the Ministry of Works.

After that, he entered officialdom, spending six years moving through various positions. When he was promoted to Right Deputy Imperial Censor of the Silver Pull Division, he had even mentioned to Tang Huang, “What I truly want is to serve in the Ministry of Works.” But those were just passing words—he had never seriously believed that he would actually end up there.

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Yet, fate was unpredictable. Now, he found himself exactly where he had once dreamed of being.

Attaining a third-rank position at the age of twenty-two was not entirely unprecedented during the reign of the current emperor. Wang Zhen had become Minister of Revenue at twenty-three, which was an even more shocking achievement.

The position of Right Vice Minister of Works was an interesting one. His predecessor was none other than Su Wenyun, who had just been promoted. Su Wenyun had taken the post at twenty-four, but since he had also served concurrently as Junior Minister of the Court of Judicial Review, he primarily acted on imperial assignments and rarely visited the ministry.

Now that Tang Shen had taken over, the first thing he did was move back into Qinzheng Hall.

The place remained much as it had been in the past.

After two years away, little had changed. Among the four chief ministers, only Xu Bi had been promoted from Right Vice Prime Minister to Left Prime Minister, while former Minister of Justice Geng Shaoyun had become Right Vice Prime Minister. Many colleagues expressed their amazement at Tang Shen’s return, offering their congratulations. In just one day, his residence was overflowing with gifts.

The imperial court did not prohibit officials from exchanging gifts, as long as it was kept within acceptable bounds and did not attract the scrutiny of the Censorate.

Thus, the spring of the 33rd year of Kaiping passed in an atmosphere of quiet contentment.

By summer, however, disaster struck—the Yellow River flooded.

The Fourth Prince, Zhao Jing, sent word to the capital, requesting that the court dispatch officials for disaster relief.

Having served as Right Vice Prime Minister of Works for half a year, Tang Shen finally received his first major assignment. Zhao Fu ordered him to lead a team to Jizhou to manage the flood response, while the Ministries of Revenue and War handled relief efforts for the affected population.

Tang Shen immediately set out for Jizhou.

When Tang Huang learned that her elder brother was going to manage a flood crisis, she was astonished. “Brother, since when did you know anything about flood control?”

Tang Shen raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know either.”

“Huh?”

“What do you think officials in the Ministry of Works do?”

Tang Huang was confused.

Tang Shen chuckled. “I may only have a basic understanding of flood control, but I’m the Right Vice Minister of Works, not a laborer. On a chessboard, when have you ever seen the general charging into battle while the pawns remain behind?”

This was what it meant to be a high-ranking official. This was what it meant to wield power.

In his past life, Tang Shen had been an engineering student, but that didn’t mean he actually knew how to manage floods. His knowledge was limited to news reports of summer floods and the general principles of flood prevention—diversion was better than blockage, and a well-designed drainage system was key.

But in the ancient world, such solutions were far more difficult to implement. Fortunately, with a smaller population, simply relocating people from flood-prone areas often resulted in less severe disasters than in later eras.

In July, Tang Shen and his team departed for Jizhou. He did not return until September.

When he arrived back, Wang Zhen studied him for a long moment before pulling him into an embrace, distressed. “You’ve lost weight, and gotten darker.”

Tang Shen laughed, pushing him away. “Do you know who I met in Jizhou?”

“Who?”

“Sir.”

Wang Zhen’s expression showed genuine surprise.

Tang Shen had held back this revelation for so long, just to see that exact look on Wang Zhen’s face. Now that he was satisfied, he explained, “Sir spent the past year traveling through the southern provinces, exploring rivers and mountains. But since he’s getting older, he can no longer visit every place he wishes, so he finally decided to return to Changzhou. By chance, he passed near Jizhou and, upon hearing that I was there, came to see me. He was accompanied by his two page boys, Wen Shu and Fu Qin.”

Without betraying any emotion, Wang Zhen pulled him back into his arms. “Fu Qin? Am I not Fu Qin?” (TN: Fuqin means “playing the zither,” but also sounds like “father.”)

Tang Shen smirked. “You play the zither, but is your music as good as Wen Shu’s?”

It was well known that their teacher’s two page boys had ironic names—Wen Shu (Book Reader) was skilled at playing the zither, while Fu Qin (Zither Player) was skilled at reading.

Wang Zhen chuckled. “So, little Junior Brother wants me to play a tune for him?” As he spoke, he pulled Tang Shen toward the study. “What would you like to hear? Phoenix Seeks the Phoenix or Longing for Each Other?”

Tang Shen burst into laughter. “All you ever think about is playing chess and plucking strings. Can’t you say something more interesting?”

Wang Zhen sighed dramatically, feigning sorrow. “Alas, you must find me dull. It’s true—I have spent my life reading books and learning the arts, while you have seen and experienced so many fascinating things. I heard, for instance, that you once sold a kind of fruit juice—sweet, sour, and refreshing. Such a thought would never even have crossed my mind.”

Tang Shen’s eyes widened. “Where did you hear that?”

Wang Zhen merely blinked, offering no answer.

Tang Shen wasn’t about to let it slide. He resorted to every trick—coaxing, threatening, even playing the seduction card—until Wang Zhen finally surrendered. He pressed Tang Shen’s face against his chest and murmured, “Enough mischief. It’s still broad daylight—are you truly so shameless?”

Tang Shen immediately behaved. “Then tell me—where did you hear it?”

Wang Zhen sighed, knowing he was doomed to be at this man’s mercy for life. Smiling, he finally confessed, “From your servant, Yao San.”

Tang Shen’s eyes widened further.

Wait—how were Wang Zhen and Yao San even connected?!

Before he could process the revelation, Wang Zhen leaned in, pressing his lips to Tang Shen’s neck. Between feather-light kisses, he murmured pitifully, “When I heard about it, I realized how dull and meaningless my life has been. Look at me—I cannot wash clothes or sweep floors, nor can I cook a decent meal. I have lived over thirty years, and looking back, I have accomplished nothing.”

Tang Shen couldn’t shake the feeling that something about this was off. If Wang Zhen claimed to be an underachiever, anyone who heard it would have every right to scoff.

Wang Zhen continued, “So you see, I haven’t seen every mountain or tasted every herb. I didn’t even know what fruit juice was until I heard about yours.”

Tang Shen finally understood. “So… you want to try fruit juice?”

Wang Zhen’s eyes lit up. He beamed. “Jing Ze, are you saying you’ll make me some?”

“…Wait, I never said that.”

“I am overjoyed!”

Tang Shen: “…”

Fruit juice wasn’t anything special. Given the production methods of the era and Tang Shen’s half-baked knowledge of making fruit vinegar, the juice he had sold in the Tang Family Village had been popular simply because the villagers had never tasted anything better.

Wang Zhen, however, had been raised in luxury, accustomed to the finest wines and delicacies. Yet, after taking a sip of the juice, he sighed in admiration. “Sweet and refreshing, with a lingering fragrance—truly delightful.”

Tang Shen was skeptical. He took a sip himself.

“Is it really that good?”

Wang Zhen kissed his forehead and said, “Because it was made by you, for me.”

After returning to the capital, Tang Shen spent eight out of ten nights staying at the Minister Residence. Their relationship was passionate and affectionate, like honey dissolving in warm oil. Wang Zifeng was remarkably good at sweet-talking, leaving Tang Shen utterly captivated. At one point, he even started doubting himself: What kind of fortune did I stumble upon to earn Wang Zifeng’s favor?

He nearly felt unworthy of him.

When Wang Zhen learned of this, he regretted it deeply.

“Everything requires moderation,” he murmured, writing down the words ‘patience is key’ before sighing. “When will he take more initiative… at a certain time and place?”

Determined, Wang Zhen had the phrase carved onto a plaque and hung it in his study as a daily reminder.

Tang Shen’s career was smooth, and his love life was blissful—he was flourishing in both romance and politics.

However, on the twelfth day of the tenth month in the 33rd year of Kaiping, just days after the emperor’s birthday, something changed.

That morning, as they dressed in court robes, Wang Zhen casually adjusted Tang Shen’s collar and said, as if in passing, “A few days ago, Li Jingde sent a military report from Youzhou. He mentioned a minor skirmish between Song and Liao forces. In his words…”

Tang Shen, surprised by the sudden mention of Li Jingde and Youzhou’s military affairs, asked, “What did he say?”

“He wrote: ‘The sky burned with chaotic fire as Liao arrows rained down in a dense onslaught.’ Do you know how the Song army broke through the encirclement?”

“How?”

“They charged forward with unwavering resolve, seeing nothing but the path ahead.”

From the very first sentence, Tang Shen knew—this was no ordinary military report. Wang Zhen had a deeper meaning behind his words. Grasping his hand, Tang Shen looked up and asked, “Senior Brother, what’s really going on?”

Wang Zhen lowered his gaze. A few years ago, he might have told Tang Shen, ‘Don’t ask. This has nothing to do with you.’ But now, he thought of the plaque in his study, of things Wang Quan had said to him, and of things he had said in return.

The person he loved was never meant to be someone who lived under protection.

He pulled Tang Shen into an embrace and whispered three words: “The Silver Pull Division.”

Tang Shen’s eyes widened.

“Jing Ze, this time, do not act recklessly.”

Tang Shen understood, but the urgency in his heart spread like wildfire, consuming everything in its path.

By the time morning court began, everything appeared calm.

Standing among the third-rank civil officials, Tang Shen lifted his gaze and saw Wang Zhen at the very front, beside Wang Quan. As if nothing had happened. As if there was no pressing crisis that required them to charge forward with unwavering resolve.

But just as court was about to be dismissed, Zhao Fu raised his hand, signaling Ji Fu to read an imperial decree.

Ji Fu’s sharp, high-pitched voice echoed through the grand hall.

“…Starting next year, in consideration of the hardships of the people and the successful implementation of the Military Silver Exchange Bank under the Ministry of War, His Majesty seeks harmony and unity with the common people…”

“The thirty-six Military Silver Exchange Banks under the Ministry of War are to be abolished and replaced by the Great Song Silver Bank.”

“…His Majesty decrees that the Great Song Silver Bank shall serve the people and benefit the realm.”

As Ji Fu finished reading, his hands clenched tightly around the decree, his forehead glistening with sweat.

A deathly silence filled Zichen Hall.

Tang Shen’s body tensed, not daring to breathe. No one knew how much time passed before a faint sound of footsteps broke the silence.

Everyone lifted their heads.

From a distance, Tang Shen saw a tall, lean figure step forward, standing before the assembled officials. His posture was like an unyielding mountain—proud, unwavering, and resolute.

Wang Zifeng raised his jade tablet and spoke in a clear, warm voice.

“I accept the decree.”

Since Youzhou, Shengjing, and all Military Silver Exchange Banks fell under Wang Zhen’s jurisdiction, it was only natural that he stepped forward.

Now, only the Ministry of Justice’s jurisdiction over the Jiangnan Silver Pull Division remained.

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Yu Chaosheng stood frozen in place, visibly taken aback.

A moment later, another figure stepped forward from Wang Zhen’s left.

Left Prime Minister Xu Bi, holding his own jade tablet, spoke in a calm and steady voice, his expression as placid as a still lake.

“Your Majesty, I must object.”

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Tang Shen revealed Tang Huang’s true origins. After finishing, even he felt a bit unfamiliar with the story.

All these years, neither he nor Tang xiucai had ever treated Tang Huang as an outsider—they had always seen her as family. After clarifying the matter, Tang Shen was lost in thought for a moment before saying, “Honestly, this doesn’t matter anymore. Ah Huang is my real sister.” Pausing, he then looked up at Wang Zhen. “Senior Brother, you won’t spread this, will you?”

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As of now, only the two of them knew about this.

Wang Zhen raised an eyebrow. “Why would I?”

Tang Shen nodded. He had only asked casually—there was no reason for Wang Zhen to go around telling people.

What he didn’t expect was that, far from exposing the secret, Minister Wang was already contemplating how to find Tang Huang a good match. If she were merely Tang Shen’s sister, that would be one thing. But now, with the added status of a “child bride”… Minister Wang had never doubted his own charm, nor had he ever considered that Tang Shen might develop feelings for his so-called sister.

However… a child bride.

Minister Wang smiled faintly, saying nothing.

Since he was busy with official duties, he couldn’t handle this matter personally. Instead, he penned a letter to Jinling, addressed to the current head of the Langya Wang clan—his great-grandmother, the esteemed old Madam Wang.

The old matriarch had her own ways of handling such affairs. When she received Wang Zhen’s letter, the beginning was filled with words of longing for his family, making no mention of Tang Huang’s marriage. Instead, it was a lengthy outpouring of sentiment, expressing how much he missed his great-grandmother.

Tears welled up in the elderly woman’s eyes. “Zi Feng must be suffering in Shengjing. He was so thin when he returned last year—he must have been bullied terribly.”

By the time she reached the end of the letter, she had already made up her mind. Summoning her daughters-in-law, they discussed the matter thoroughly before drafting two responses—one to Wang Zhen and another to the Right Prime Minister’s residence, addressed to the Right Prime Minister’s wife.

That evening, Right Prime Minister Wang Quan sought out Wang Zhen, pointing at him in exasperation. “You! For such a minor matter, you could have just spoken to me or your Second Aunt. Why go through such a roundabout way and write to Jinling first?”

Wang Zhen raised an eyebrow. “Uncle, would it be proper etiquette for me to speak directly to you about this?”

Wang Quan was momentarily speechless.

True, it wasn’t strictly proper etiquette. But knowing Wang Zifeng, could that really be the only reason? Surely, he had some hidden agenda!

Indeed, Wang Zhen had his reasons.

First, by omitting Tang Huang’s origins in his letter, he ensured that once the old matriarch acknowledged her, Tang Huang would be fully recognized as Tang Shen’s biological sister. Second, he deliberately wrote to his family in advance to give them a heads-up. Not all Wang clan members in Jinling knew about his relationship with Tang Shen—most only knew that he had no interest in women, but they weren’t yet aware that he had already found someone he cared for.

Minister Wang gazed at the moon, letting out a long sigh. He truly had to go to great lengths for his dear little junior brother.

Meanwhile, Tang Huang remained unaware that the Right Prime Minister’s wife had already begun scouting eligible young men for her—not to force a marriage upon her, but simply to give her more options, allowing her to meet more young men of good character. If she wasn’t interested, no one would pressure her.

As the year-end approached, the accounts from Xixia Tower and Zhenbao Pavilion were compiled, and the managers from Gusu made their way north to Shengjing.

This year, Tang Shen completely entrusted these matters to Tang Huang, without getting involved himself.

The young lady handled everything flawlessly. On the tenth day of the twelfth lunar month, when the managers were about to depart, she gathered them together and said, “Seven years ago, our Tang family established Tang’s Logistics in Gusu and began selling Golden Wisp and soap. Since then, business has flourished day by day.”

The managers praised, “It is all thanks to the boss’s wise leadership.”

Dressed in a simple yellow dress, Tang Huang remained composed despite their flattery. She took a sip of tea before continuing, “There’s no need to praise me. I only took over the family business in the past two years—before that, it was my brother handling everything. Over these years, I’ve seen a lot and have come to a realization. Do you know why our Tang family has succeeded in business? Why we have reached the scale we have today?”

The managers replied, “Please enlighten us, my lady.”

“Because we, above all else, value time.”

“Everyone knows about Tang’s Logistics. Initially, it was barely profitable. But my brother used it as an advertisement to spread awareness. Through Tang’s Logistics, the people of Gusu came to know about Golden Wisp and soap. The subsequent benefits of this move were immeasurable. And that was just the beginning.

“Xixia Tower benefits from Tang’s Logistics by always having fresher ingredients than other restaurants. Later, Baibao Pavilion was able to gather rare treasures from all over the country in a single store, all thanks to Tang’s Logistics.

“This is the time we have saved.”

She continued, “Two years ago, I implemented a system in our workshops where each worker focuses on a single task. Mastery leads to efficiency, allowing them to work faster and save more time. Over time, even if each worker saves just the time of one cup of tea, imagine the effect multiplied by a hundred workers.”

She set down her cup with a crisp clink on the wooden table. “Today, I will summarize the reasons behind our family’s success into three key points. First, the cultivation of skilled artisans and staff. Second, the keen eye to seize opportunities. And third, the optimization of time.”

She gazed intently at them. “The Tang family has come this far, but how we continue to grow from here depends on all of you. Next year, when we meet again, I hope to hear your own strategies for development. The Tang family is not just my brother’s and mine—it belongs to all of you as well.”

With a bright, confident smile, she asked, “Do you understand?”

The managers, stunned, stared at the young lady at the head of the table. For the first time, they dared not underestimate her.

Someone stepped forward and cupped his hands. “I understand.”

The next moment, all the managers echoed in unison, “We understand.”

After they left, Tang Huang leaned back in her chair, wiping the sweat from her palms.

“Brother, I hope, as you said, these men will come up with good ideas. You always say that strength lies in numbers. If we truly want to grow, we can’t do it alone.”

Much later, when Tang Shen learned of the speech she had given that day, he was astonished. He had merely told her to encourage the managers to innovate—after all, technological advancement was the true path to progress. But none of these words had come from him.

That, however, was a matter for another time.

On the eve of the 32nd year of Kaiping, New Year’s Eve passed quietly, even a little desolately.

The night before, Emperor Zhao Fu hosted a banquet at the palace for his ministers, as per tradition. However, on New Year’s Eve itself, none of the three princes returned to the capital.

Not that they didn’t want to return—though, in truth, they were indeed fearful. The staged coup in the previous year’s first lunar month was still fresh in their minds. Though the emperor had not punished them severely, instead making scapegoats of the monk Shanting and Prime Minister Ji, the lesson was clear.

After that terrifying precedent, none of the three princes dared to set foot before Zhao Fu again with any thoughts of the throne.

However, they did not dare to offend their unpredictable father either.

In mid-December, the three princes submitted petitions requesting to return to the capital, expressing their desire to do so.

Zhao Fu read their memorials with an unreadable expression. After a long silence, he let out a deep sigh and, as if joking, said to Ji Fu, “Look at them. Clearly, they don’t dare to return, yet they still have to ask for my permission, afraid I might be displeased. This is truly a case of being too clever for their own good—so clever they’ve become fools.”

Ji Fu dared not interfere in matters between the emperor and his sons. He only lowered his head in silence. Yet, as he secretly glanced at Zhao Fu out of the corner of his eye, he couldn’t help but think: Your Majesty, have you noticed that you, too, seem to have changed?

None of the three princes returned to the capital, and the imperial family banquet on New Year’s Eve was attended only by Prince Jing’s family. The occasion was cold and cheerless.

Throughout the banquet, Zhao Fu did not smile even once. After it ended, he immediately rose and left in a huff.

Ji Fu quickly followed behind him, but as he gazed at the emperor’s solitary figure, he suddenly understood the true meaning of a certain phrase.

The solitary and lonely ruler.

Perhaps, from the very beginning, he had always been alone.

On the nineteenth day of the first month in the 33rd year of Kaiping, barely ten days after officials had resumed court duties, Tang Shen received an imperial decree.

This year’s huishi in Shengjing would be overseen by Yu Chaosheng, the Minister of Justice and Assistant Minister of the Palace Secretariat. In addition, over twenty officials below the third rank were selected as deputy examiners. Among them, Tang Shen held one of the highest ranks.

He still remembered the first time he had met Yu Chaosheng at the Shengjing Examination Hall years ago, when Yu Chaosheng had just returned to the capital as the Right Vice Minister of Personnel. Back then, both of them had served as deputy examiners under the chief examiner, Minister of Personnel Shen Yun.

Now, years later, they found themselves in the same roles once again. Before the examination began, Yu Chaosheng led the officials in paying respects to the statue of Confucius.

Tang Shen followed behind him, bowing in reverence.

After the ritual, as the examinees entered the examination hall, Yu Chaosheng glanced at Tang Shen. Their eyes met, and both men exchanged a smile.

Under Yu Chaosheng’s competent oversight, the examination proceeded smoothly, with not a single issue arising. Among this year’s candidates, several were already well known for their literary talent.

While grading, Tang Shen came across an exceptionally well-written essay. When he finally lifted the seal covering the candidate’s name, he sighed in realization. “So it’s a scholar from the Su family of Northern Zhili.”

The Su family of Northern Zhili was a prestigious aristocratic clan. The highest-ranking official in the family was Su Wenyun, a third-rank official who currently served as the Right Vice Minister of Works and Junior Minister of the Court of Judicial Review.

Yet, within just half a month—before the dianshi even took place—Su Wenyun was smoothly promoted. He was elevated to Assistant Minister of the Privy Council and concurrently Minister of the Court of Judicial Review, attaining a second-rank position.

Su Wenyun’s promotion came as no surprise to anyone. Even Tang Shen sometimes wondered when the emperor would decide to promote him.

As expected, once Su Wenyun’s promotion was announced, the entire court offered their congratulations.

Yet, barely a month later, right after the dianshi concluded, another imperial decree was issued.

“Tang Shen, Court Gentleman Consultant and Right Deputy Imperial Censor of the Silver Pull Division, is diligent and meritorious, having presided over two rounds of imperial examinations and deeply understanding Our intentions. We hereby promote him to Right Vice Minister of Works and Right Deputy Imperial Censor of the Silver Pull Division, a third-rank official, effective immediately.”

The court was left in shock. Even Wang Zhen had not anticipated this.

Tang Shen himself was so taken aback that he hesitated to accept the decree. It wasn’t until the eunuch delivering the edict chuckled and reminded him, “Tang daren, don’t let your excitement get the best of you—accept the decree first,” that Tang Shen finally came to his senses and expressed his gratitude.

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The officials were stunned because Tang Shen was only twenty-two years old, yet the emperor had truly promoted him to a third-rank official.

Tang Shen was stunned because he had actually become the Right Vice Minister of Works.

Alone, he couldn’t help but laugh wryly.

“Fate really likes to play tricks on people.”

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That night, Tang Shen rode a carriage to the Western Expedition Marshal’s residence for the banquet.

The Northwest was a land of yellow sands. Even in August, the sky was still filled with swirling dust. People had to wear thick clothing and wrap their heads in veils to shield themselves from the northern winds carrying sand. By the time Tang Shen arrived at the Marshal’s residence, the sun had yet to fully set, and the last remnants of daylight shone from the west. Li Jingde was roasting a large, fat ox over an open flame, skewered on an iron spit.

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The firelight illuminated the general’s thick beard, making his sharp eyes appear even more intense as he focused entirely on cooking.

A servant came over to inform him of Tang Shen’s arrival. Only then did Li Jingde lift his head and wave enthusiastically. “You’re finally here. See this ox? I picked it myself just for you. Like it?”

The Song Dynasty did not forbid the consumption of beef, and Tang Shen had been in this era long enough, moreover his own Xixia Tower even served hotpot beef. Yet, he had never seen an entire roasted ox served like this before.

Li Jingde was truly an extraordinary man.

Tang Shen asked, “Why is the general roasting the ox himself?”

Li Jingde motioned for Tang Shen to sit and replied casually, “What’s the big deal? Roasting an ox is nothing. When we march in battle, there’s often no meat to eat at all. I’ve spent days surviving on wild greens and hot water just to fill my belly. Wild vegetable soup is already considered a luxury. I remember twelve years ago when we clashed with the Liao army in a canyon—we were trapped for sixteen days! We even had to eat tree bark back then.”

Tang Shen thought to himself: I only asked why you were roasting the ox. How did this turn into a survival story?

Not everyone had the honor of tasting meat personally roasted by Li Jingde. The general sliced off a juicy piece of beef, sprinkled some salt on it, and handed it to Tang Shen. Taking a bite, Tang Shen found the meat tender and flavorful—though a bit mild, it had a unique taste. He sincerely praised, “The general’s roasting skills are excellent.”

Li Jingde laughed heartily. “Then eat more.”

The two enjoyed roasted meat and strong liquor. After a few sips, Tang Shen put his cup down and said, “I have a low tolerance for alcohol, I’m afraid I won’t be able to keep up.”

Li Jingde immediately responded, “Then you better stop drinking! If you get drunk, it’ll ruin my plans.”

Tang Shen paused slightly. He discreetly observed Li Jingde, wondering if the general had actually invited him here for a reason. It didn’t seem like it. Li Jingde was a straightforward warrior—he never hid his thoughts. If he had something to discuss, would he really go through all this trouble instead of just speaking his mind?

The next moment, Li Jingde proved Tang Shen’s assessment of him to be entirely correct. “Actually, I called you here today to talk about the Liao people.”

As expected—this is the Li Jingde I know!

Hearing this, Tang Shen glanced around. Unnoticed until now, the attendants in the marshal’s residence had quietly left the courtyard.

Li Jingde had come prepared.

Tang Shen replied cautiously, “I do not understand the general’s meaning.”

“You don’t understand? How could you not? You civil officials always think about complicated things and talk in circles. Take that Su Wenyun, for example—he dislikes me, but so what? Will his hatred make me lose a piece of flesh? I can curse him to his face, call him a pansy boy, and what can he do? Curse me back? Never.” Li Jingde took another bite of meat and continued, “See, I digress again. I thought you were different from those guys like Wang Zifeng and Su Wenyun, but it turns out that you’re following in their footsteps, Tang Shen.”

Tang Shen, originally maintaining his cautious stance, couldn’t help but chuckle at the accusation. “General, I truly do not understand your meaning.”

“Truly don’t?”

“I don’t.”

Li Jingde scratched his head. “Then let me put it simply—when are we going to kill those Liao bastards? I’ve wanted to fight them for years.”

Tang Shen was momentarily silent before replying, “It cannot be rushed.”

Li Jingde widened his eyes. “Not rushed? It’s already been so many years!”

Tang Shen explained, “General, dealing with the Liao is not a matter for me alone. I have no military experience, nor have I ever led troops in battle. But even the common folk know that the Song are wealthy, while the Liao are hardy warriors. They are a people born on horseback, and every man among them is a soldier. Over the past twenty-two years, we have won many victories in the Northwest, but that does not mean we can truly defeat the Liao.”

Li Jingde chewed his beef in silence.

“To destroy them, we must start from within,” Tang Shen continued. After a brief pause, he reconsidered his words, finding them too absolute. In reality, given the current strength of the Song army, it would be difficult to bring down the Liao within the next twenty years. After all, even a weakened camel is still bigger than a horse. Even if the Song had the upper hand now, the moment the Liao regained their footing, the tide of battle could shift drastically. He amended, “To reclaim lost land, does it really matter if we wait a few more years, General?”

Li Jingde took a large bite of meat and downed his wine. “To you, Tang Jingze, I’ll drink to that—I believe you.”

Perhaps it was the heat from the fire roasting the meat, but Tang Shen felt a surge of warmth in his chest. He raised his own wine jug. “To the general.”

What Tang Shen did not expect was that Li Jingde’s alcohol tolerance was so low!

It was Li Jingde who had insisted on drinking together, yet after just two jugs, he became completely drunk. He threw an arm around Tang Shen’s shoulders, calling him brother. After a bit more drinking, he even started sobbing. “Tang Jingze, life is so hard for me, you know that? Your scheming, cunning senior brother Wang Zifeng—when you return to the capital, talk to him for me, will you? Tell him to give me more money. I’m suffering, I really am… wuuwuuwuu…”

Tang Shen panicked, fumbling to comfort him. “General, please don’t cry.”

But Li Jingde only cried harder. “You civil officials always bully us! We warriors are so honest, yet you all keep taking advantage of us! Wuuwuuwuu…”

He sobbed and wailed until he finally passed out. Only then did Tang Shen manage to make his escape.

However, just as Tang Shen left the Marshal’s residence, the supposedly unconscious Li Jingde suddenly sat upright and craned his neck toward the door. “Is he gone?”

A servant handed him a warm towel. “Yes, General, he’s gone.”

Li Jingde roughly wiped away his tears, nearly rubbing his face raw. He sighed, “Ai, it’s so tough. I have to act like this just to get some money. Luckily, after crying in front of the Grand Marshal so many times, I’ve gotten used to it. The tears come naturally now. Tell me—was my performance convincing? He didn’t suspect anything, right?”

The servant: “…”

General, you are truly one of a kind!

Meanwhile, back at his own residence, Tang Shen sighed deeply. “The Northwestern army has it so hard… Is Li Jingde really that short on funds?”

Tang Shen was almost certain Li Jingde had been faking his drunkenness, but for a man of his rank to cry in front of others—even if it was an act—it was still heartbreaking!

“Is my senior brother really this cruel? When I return to the capital, I should bring it up with him.”

Little did he know, in the northwest military camp, Li Jingde wept once every three days and had a full breakdown once every ten. If he didn’t cry, considering all the things he had done, Grand Preceptor Zhou would have already demoted him from a second-rank Marshal straight down to a common foot soldier!

At the end of August, Tang Shen returned to Shengjing.

Unlike the Northwest, Shengjing was scorching hot, with the blazing sun making the heat unbearable.

As soon as Tang Shen arrived home in the evening, Aunt Yao prepared a table full of chilled melons and ushered him to eat.

These melons closely resembled modern-day watermelons, likely an ancient variety that had not yet been selectively cultivated. As everyone was eating and chatting, Tang Huang suddenly froze, exclaiming, “I completely forgot!” She immediately put down her melon and dared not take another bite.

Tang Shen and Yao San were both bewildered.

Aunt Yao, however, covered her mouth and chuckled. “I’ll go make Ah Huang some brown sugar water.”

Yao San still didn’t understand, but Tang Shen, having modern medical knowledge, quickly caught on.

That night, after eating just two slices of chilled melon, Tang Huang indeed fell ill and couldn’t get out of bed. Originally, Tang Shen had planned to spend the night at the Minister Residence, but seeing her condition, he had no choice but to stay and keep his sister company.

When Tang Shen entered the room, he stood beside the bed, looking at Tang Huang.

“Feeling any better?”

The young lady was deeply embarrassed, hiding her face with a pillow. “Much better, much better! Brother, why did you come in? Aunt Yao was just saying a few days ago that now that I’m seventeen, even though we’re siblings, you shouldn’t just walk in like this!”

Tang Shen was speechless. “You do realize we’re siblings, right?”

Tang Huang righteously declared, “But I haven’t married yet!”

Tang Shen chuckled. “So you do know you haven’t married yet?”

Tang Huang was at a loss for words and buried her face back into the pillow.

Tang Shen hadn’t planned to bring it up, but now that the topic had surfaced, he realized that Tang Huang was already seventeen.

In the Song Dynasty, it wasn’t uncommon for girls to remain unmarried at seventeen, or even at eighteen. However, most would already be engaged by this age. Tang Shen had promised her that she could decide her own marriage.

“When do you plan to make that decision?”

Tang Huang peeked out from the pillow with only her eyes showing. “What decision?”

Tang Shen pulled up a chair and sat down. Raising an eyebrow, he smiled slightly and said simply: “Marriage.”

Tang Huang: “…”

“Brother, have you noticed that you’re becoming more and more like the Minister?”

“Hm?”

“…You look even more like him now!”

Tang Shen suddenly burst into laughter. He certainly didn’t want to be like Wang Zhen—it felt strange just to think about it. Clearing his throat, he spoke seriously, “I’m asking sincerely. When do you plan to decide for yourself?”

Tang Huang remained silent. After a long time, she whispered, “What if I want to stay at home forever?”

“Then stay.”

Tang Huang was surprised. “Brother!”

Tang Shen sighed and ruffled her hair. “I said you could make the decision, so of course, it’s entirely up to you.”

Overjoyed, Tang Huang called out “Brother” three times in excitement.

The next day, Tang Shen went to the Minister Residence, where Wang Zhen was reading.

Minister Wang was a man of refined taste—reading under the moonlight. Just watching him made Tang Shen feel like his eyes would start hurting. Leaning over to glance at the book, Tang Shen scoffed, “What’s this? The Analects? Don’t you know it by heart?”

Wang Zhen sighed, “Reading a book a hundred times reveals its true meaning.”

Tang Shen started reflecting on whether he was being too frivolous. Maybe he should read more instead of relying on his eidetic memory and acting carelessly.

Before he could continue the thought, Wang Zhen suddenly closed the book, leaned in, and planted a kiss on his cheek. Laughing softly, he said, “Of course, I was just waiting for you.”

Tang Shen: “…”

So you really were just showing off!

After dinner, the two of them talked, and Tang Shen brought up Tang Huang’s situation.

Wang Zhen raised an eyebrow and smiled faintly. “If she doesn’t wish to marry, then let her be.”

Tang Shen studied his expression.

Wang Zhen asked, “Is something wrong with that?”

Tang Shen: “…I really have become like you!”

Wang Zhen didn’t know the context and remained puzzled. But the Minister merely smiled, unfazed, as he picked up his teacup and took a sip.

Tang Shen sighed. “Actually, there’s a secret—one that only I know. Even Ah Huang doesn’t know.”

“Oh?”

After a brief hesitation, Tang Shen relented. “Ah Huang isn’t actually my biological sister. My mother found her and took her in when she was just a year old. The villagers all assumed she was my mother’s child because my parents had just returned from visiting relatives in the provincial capital, bringing Ah Huang back with them. But the truth is, my mother only wanted to raise her as a future child bride for me. According to my mother, Ah Huang’s parents had passed away from illness, and she had no remaining relatives.”

Wang Zhen hadn’t expected this revelation. He was surprised and asked, “A child bride?”

“What are you thinking?” Tang Shen scoffed. “Ah Huang is my sister.” He continued, “But within two years, my mother passed away. My father, being the stuffy scholar that he was, disliked the uncultured practice of child brides and raised Ah Huang as my sister instead.

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

“In the countryside, people often give children rough-sounding names, believing that it wards off bad luck and ensures survival. ‘Ah Huang’ is one of those crude-sounding names. But my father was particular about naming. He named me Shen, from the phrase ‘A gentleman must be cautious even when alone.’ He was very deliberate about it.

“But since Ah Huang was an adopted child, my father never gave her a proper name—just called her whatever came to mind.” (TN: ‘Ah Huang’ 阿黄=literally meaning “yellow” and a name often used to give to dogs. The “huang” in ‘Tang Huang’ 唐璜 is a homonym with a much nicer meaning “semi-circular jade ornament”l)

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The family letter was sent from Gusu Prefecture to Shengjing, and by the time it reached Youzhou, it was already May.

When Tang Shen received the letter from Gusu, he finally learned that after resigning from office, Fu Wei had even traveled south to Jiangnan for leisure.

The thirty-second year of Kaiping was destined to be different from previous years. Left Prime Minister Ji had been stripped of his position, and Fu Wei had retired from court. These once-powerful ministers, who had wielded immense influence over the imperial court, were now stepping down one by one. Perhaps this also symbolized the gradual passing of the Kaiping Emperor’s era.

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

At the end of May, Wang Zhen returned to the capital first.

In just two years, the Military Silver Exchange Bank had been established across all thirty-six provinces of the Song Dynasty, securing its foothold. Originally, the Silver Pull Division only managed the military funds of the Northwestern Army, but starting this year, the pay for the Southwestern Army and various regional forces also flowed into its treasury.

The Silver Pull Division was no longer limited to Youzhou. Wang Zhen’s return to the capital was to oversee the construction of the division’s headquarters in the imperial city.

Tang Shen escorted him out of Youzhou. At the Ten-Mile Pavilion outside the city, Wang Zhen lifted the carriage curtain and smiled at him.
“Little Junior Brother, no need to see me off.”

Tang Shen replied, “Senior Brother, safe travels.”

With many officials present, the two couldn’t exchange private words. Wang Zhen gave Tang Shen a deep look, then let the curtain fall and departed in his carriage.

Not long after Wang Zhen’s return to the capital, the emperor issued an edict to establish Silver Pull Divisions in both Shengjing and Jiangnan.

In an instant, the division’s influence reached its peak.

With immense power in his hands, Wang Zhen even made the Right Prime Minister Wang Quan tread carefully. When officials spoke of the “Wang faction,” the first name that came to mind was no longer Wang Quan but Wang Zhen.

Officials and government officers alike understood how to serve those in power. Seeing Wang Zhen’s rising influence, Minister of Works Yuan Mu, who had previously been at odds with him, chose to yield. Completely disregarding past conflicts, he dedicated himself to constructing the Silver Pull Division headquarters in Shengjing.

Within a month, the divisions in Shengjing and Jiangnan were completed.

During a private family banquet, Right Prime Minister Wang Quan remarked to his nephew, “Look at them—this time, they surely wouldn’t dare to skim off any funds.” He paused, realizing this might not be entirely true, and added, “Even if they did embezzle, it would be at most ten percent. And that’s only because they’re working for you. Everyone knows that you, Wang Zifeng, are the most influential first-rank minister of the moment.”

Wang Zhen raised a brow in mild surprise. “The construction of the Silver Pull Division is a task for His Majesty. What does it have to do with me? Why would you say such a thing, Uncle?”

Wang Quan ignored him, merely snorting. “Ji Wengji has stepped down, Fu Xiru has left, and now I, too, have reached the age of sixty. Perhaps I should start considering my retirement.”

But Wang Quan was only speaking idly. Could he truly resign?

Despite the Wang faction’s growing power, Wang Zhen was only half-aligned with them. If Wang Quan retired, the faction would collapse by half.

The division’s operations flourished, and by July, everything seemed to be thriving.

For years, Wang Zhen had planned meticulously. Now, noble families finally realized something was amiss with the Silver Pull Division and the Military Silver Exchange Bank—but it was too late. These institutions had already spread like chess pieces across the empire, weaving a dense and inescapable net.

The momentum of the Silver Pull Division had picked up. All that remained was the right moment.

Wang Zhen knew that by now, the division was beyond the influence of noble families. However, implementing paper money to replace silver currency immediately would be too hasty. It needed time—perhaps a year, perhaps two. But it wouldn’t be long. The path had been paved. The moment the emperor issued an edict extending the Military Silver Exchange Bank’s services beyond the army and into the hands of the common people, it would mark the first step of a historic transformation.

That night, Wang Zhen sat in the Minister of Revenue’s study, playing Go.

Holding both black and white pieces, he played against himself, each move evenly matched, a fierce battle of wits.

The black stones formed a bold and aggressive dragon, rampaging and destroying cities. The white stones, like a vast and unfathomable sea, remained calm and unreadable. As the game progressed, Wang Zhen’s moves slowed. When he finally picked up another white piece, the steward’s voice came from outside.

“Gongzi, it’s time for the morning court session. Shall I prepare your court robes?”

Dawn had arrived.

Wang Zhen snapped out of his deep thoughts, momentarily dazed.

“Prepare my robes.”

“Yes, gongzi.”

Lowering his gaze, he placed the white piece onto the board.

In an instant, the tranquil sea surged into a great wave, swallowing the black dragon whole.

Looking at the board, Wang Zhen let out a long sigh. He felt immense loneliness.

He rose abruptly, walked to his desk, took up his brush, and penned a letter.

When the steward entered with his court robes, Wang Zhen handed him the letter. “Send this to Youzhou. Use the fastest courier.”

The steward nodded. “Understood.”

Three days later, Tang Shen received the letter. Seeing how urgently it had been sent, he assumed something serious had happened. Anxiously, he tore it open.

Staring at the single line written inside, he was momentarily stunned—before breaking into a helpless smile.

“I miss you too.”

Tang Shen read the letter carefully three times before tucking it into his sleeve. Then, he called for Lin Xu.

Lin Xu was the chief officer of the Youzhou Silver Pull Division and a trusted confidant of Wang Zhen. While Wang Zhen’s letter to Tang Shen only conveyed thoughts of longing, Tang Shen detected something unusual within it. He asked Lin Xu, “Now, in Youzhou, are you familiar with all the officials in the Silver Pull Division? Can you trust them all?”

Lin Xu’s eyes flickered as he lowered his voice. “Rest assured, daren. They are all our people.”

Tang Shen sighed. “Senior Brother has had a hard time.”

Lin Xu did not fully understand but made a mental note to discreetly remove the remaining uncertain elements within the Silver Pull Division.

At the end of July, Wang Zhen submitted a memorial and entered the palace for an audience with the emperor.

Inside Chuigong Hall, the windows gleamed, their glass panes making the palace seem almost ethereal. Wang Zhen had been summoned, and before long, the chamberlains and palace attendants withdrew, leaving only Zhao Fu, Wang Zhen, and the chief eunuch Ji Fu in the hall.

Zhao Fu and Wang Zhen spoke in private for an hour before Wang Zhen left.

Clad in a red official robe, Wang Zhen looked striking yet elegant, as refined as an immortal. With an air of composure, he exited the palace, boarded his carriage, and headed straight to the Ministry of Revenue.

After his departure, silence engulfed Chuigong Hall. The chamberlains did not re-enter immediately, and the eunuchs remained waiting outside.

Zhao Fu leaned back against the throne. Ji Fu stood by his side with his head bowed.

After a long pause, Zhao Fu spoke in a gentle tone, “Tell me, how is it that Wang Zifeng understands my heart so well?”

Ji Fu felt his heart race in alarm. He had no idea how to respond, but since the emperor was awaiting his reply, he cautiously said, “Wang xianggong is devoted to Great Song, just as Your Majesty is. That is why he aligns so well with Your Majesty’s intentions.” Ji Fu had a close friendship with Wang Zhen, and at a time like this, he naturally offered his support.

Even the most calculating ruler could not have foreseen that someone who had served him for decades was actually allied with Wang Zhen.

Zhao Fu nodded and picked up a fresh memorial from the table. He gazed at it for a while before tossing it to Ji Fu. “Take care of this discreetly. I do not want anyone to see it.”

Ji Fu quickly accepted the document and obediently replied, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Zhao Fu muttered, “How is it that not one of my three sons can compare to Wang Zifeng? I fear even Fei Ran falls short.”

Ji Fu thought to himself: Your three princes were simply born into the right family, but the true power brokers of the court were chosen from among the most exceptional minds in the empire. How could they possibly compare? Let alone Wang Zifeng or Su Wenyun—even Tang Jingze leaves them in the dust!

Ji Fu took the memorial and left Chuigong Hall. He had his godson, Xie Bao, prepare a fire basin and burn the document immediately.

Before tossing it into the flames, Ji Fu hesitated. Ensuring that no one was around, he carefully unfolded the memorial and read its contents.

His eyes widened in shock. The next moment, he hastily threw it into the fire.

The empty palace hall echoed only with the crackling flames. Ji Fu patted his chest and murmured, “That nearly scared me to death.” Then, more seriously, he muttered, “Wang Zifeng is truly remarkable.”

After years of maneuvering within the imperial palace, Wang Zhen had strategically befriended figures like Ji Fu and Li Xiaoren—those closest to the emperor. Now, his efforts were paying off.

Ji Fu sent his godson, Xie Bao, out of the palace with a letter for Wang Zhen.

As Wang Zhen read the contents, he smiled faintly. He brought the corner of the letter close to a candle flame, watching as the fire consumed it.

Who would have thought that by the narrowest margin, Yu Chaosheng had nearly been appointed Minister of Revenue in addition to his position as Minister of Justice?

The next day, the emperor issued an edict promoting Yu Chaosheng to Assistant Minister of the Palace Secretariat, overseeing the Jiangnan Silver Pull Division. Though still second-rank, his authority expanded significantly. By placing the Jiangnan Silver Pull Division under Yu Chaosheng’s control, the emperor subtly weakened Wang Zhen’s power.

After serving Emperor Kaiping for thirty-two years, court officials quickly grasped the implications.

Yu Chaosheng was the prized student of Left Prime Minister Xu Bi, a prominent figure of the Xu faction. By elevating Yu Chaosheng, the emperor was strengthening the Xu faction. Meanwhile, the Jiangnan Silver Pull Division was Wang Zhen’s stronghold—everyone knew he came from the illustrious Wang clan of Langya and was a native of Jinling. The emperor’s move simultaneously curtailed Wang’s power while bolstering the Xu faction, demonstrating masterful political maneuvering.

Su Wenyun had already returned to the capital. Upon hearing the news, he sneered, “If His Majesty truly wanted to elevate the Xu faction, why not simply remove Wang Zifeng from the Ministry of Revenue altogether? He holds the rank of a first-rank minister and still oversees the treasury. Tsk, is that appropriate?”

The minor officials were bewildered.

The self-assured high-ranking ministers believed they had deciphered Zhao Fu’s intent—that he was suppressing the Wang faction while elevating the Left Prime Minister’s faction.

Only the emperor’s closest confidants understood the deeper meaning behind his actions.

Yu Chaosheng himself knew that although he had been promoted, this was not the promotion that was expected.

In a quiet study, teacher and student sat together, listening to the rain pattering against floating duckweed.

After a long silence, Xu Bi exhaled deeply. “I have lost to Wang Zifeng.”

Yu Chaosheng lowered his head. “It was my mistake. I miscalculated.”

Xu Bi chuckled. “You take the blame too easily. But in a match against Wang Zifeng, you are not yet his equal. I spent an entire year raising his status and expanding the Silver Pull Division’s influence to a point where even the Emperor could no longer tolerate it—yet he still managed to turn the situation around. I heard he visited Chuigong Hall a few days ago. Who knows what he said?”

Yu Chaosheng flushed with shame, unable to reply.

For the first time, he felt a deep sense of frustration.

He and Wang Zhen had been part of the same imperial examination cohort—he had placed second, while Wang Zhen was the top scholar. He was even older than Wang Zhen by several years. Yet, his mentor still claimed he was unqualified to compete against Wang Zifeng.

His chest tightened, his fingers trembled. He struggled to suppress his emotions.

Xu Bi glanced at him and said, “Shame can be a powerful motivator. You came from a humble background, so your education and experiences were naturally inferior to his. But time is long. The last prodigy from an aristocratic family who carved his name into the merit stele, only to be condemned for eternity after his death—do you know who that was?”

Yu Chaosheng asked, “Who?”

Xu Bi took a sip of tea and smiled. “Zhong Taisheng. Perhaps, Wang Zifeng will be the next Zhong Taisheng.”

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

In August, Tang Shen received an imperial edict summoning him back to the capital.

Before leaving, he finalized all matters concerning the Silver Pull Division. Just before his departure, he received an invitation.

The Marshal of the Western Expedition, Li Jingde, had invited him to a private meeting.

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