TGPSAC – Chapter 59

Chi Wan hadn’t expected Emperor Shengyuan to make his decision so quickly. But he was still stingy. He didn’t give her six million taels of silver, only three million. Three million taels was just enough to pay the common soldiers; it couldn’t satisfy the generals.

If the people at the top weren’t satisfied, would the pay ever reach the hands of the people at the bottom?

Chi Wan received the imperial edict, ordering her to lead the Imperial City Division and a contingent of the Jinwu Guard to escort the silver to the capital garrisons. The moment this news broke, the entire imperial court was in an uproar.

What had happened for the Emperor to pay the capital garrisons out of his own pocket?

Then, during morning court the next day, Emperor Shengyuan left them with a single decree: once the tax silver was collected, it must first prioritize the border garrisons.

This news happened to reach the border garrison commanders who had come to demand their pay. They felt His Majesty was wise and benevolent, but they could no longer press him for the money immediately.

The collection of tax silver began after the autumn harvest, and it was escorted to the capital from various regions around the Spring Festival. The Ministry of Revenue had silver, yet they cried poverty every day.

It was true that the Ministry was short on funds. As the tax silver was transported to the capital, the Ministry had to count it and record it in the ledgers. The various government offices, smelling blood in the water, would all come rushing, afraid that if they were late, the money would be given to someone else.

Great Zhou’s annual fiscal revenue was ten million taels. With some additional income, as long as there were no natural or man-made disasters, they could just about manage.

In fact, Great Zhou had been plagued by disasters this year, and money was needed everywhere. Not only could they not issue military pay, but even many officials hadn’t received their salaries for several months.

Officials who didn’t rely on their salaries to live were naturally unconcerned. But what about those in unprofitable posts? They couldn’t take bribes, and their salaries weren’t being paid. Were their families supposed to starve?

It was said that those officials were also about to cause a stir, preparing to demand their salaries from the Grand Secretariat.

They didn’t dare approach the Emperor directly, but demanding their salaries from the Grand Secretariat was acceptable.

They weren’t trying to force the Grand Secretariat’s hand, but they hadn’t been paid in half a year. The military was about to get its pay, so why should they still have to wait?

Great Zhou’s fiscal revenue was far from sufficient. This was where some of the imperial merchants came into play. Find a few who had committed offenses, confiscate their assets, and that could tide them over for a while.

Then there were the officials from various regions. The Imperial City Division would investigate and gather evidence, see which officials were no longer useful, and then play the asset confiscation card again.

Emperor Shengyuan had often used the Grand Secretariat’s name to do such things. Corrupt officials in Great Zhou were endless, and so were the confiscations.

To put it bluntly, this was like nurturing a venomous creature; one never knew when it would bite back.

Emperor Shengyuan’s credibility in this area was practically zero. Old Yu had long since lost all credibility; who didn’t know that the current sovereign was harsh and ungrateful?

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Emperor Shengyuan’s lack of money had nothing to do with the Princess’s Residence.

Chi Wan’s various projects had officially gone on sale. During the Spring Festival banquet on the third day of the second month, there would be another advertisement—or more accurately, they would use shills for promotion.

Small sticker advertisements were somewhat useful, but they couldn’t compare to word-of-mouth promotion from shills.

There were quite a few literate people. Great Zhou had community schools for literacy, where village chiefs and the like would teach the common folk to read during the agricultural off-season.

They didn’t demand much, just enough to understand the court’s public notices. Although the effect was mediocre, the number of literate people in Great Zhou was greater than in the previous dynasty, with a literacy rate of over ten percent.

Great Zhou’s education system was more complete, and book printing was reasonably developed. Once books were no longer controlled by the great clans, common people naturally had the opportunity to learn to read.

Even if not many people could understand the small advertisements distributed by the shop, its reputation would spread rapidly.

The Lin family had also set up a stage outside the shop, hiring storytellers and opera singers to incorporate the products into their performances, deepening people’s impression. This was the ancient version of running ads.

Furthermore, the Spring Festival banquet was attended by princes, nobles, and high officials, whose purchasing power was terrifying. If they sent a few shills over, would they still have to worry about the shop’s reputation not getting out?

Lin Qianduo was astounded by Chi Wan’s business plan, feeling it was a pity this Fuma wasn’t a merchant. She would surely amass a fortune in the future. However, in the hierarchy of scholar, farmer, artisan, and merchant, the merchant class was low. Who would choose business when they could be an official?

In any case, news of the shop’s opening was already spreading like wildfire through the capital. It wasn’t a traditional pharmacy; many of the pills and potions inside were for beauty and health—all good things, and not cheaply priced.

Chi Wan felt that calling it a pharmacy was less accurate than calling it a beauty salon, but it offered more services than a salon and also sold many medicines. It should be called a traditional Chinese medicine wellness center.

So, Chi Wan named the shop—Jiu Jiu Traditional Chinese Medicine Wellness Center.

As for why “Jiu Jiu,” what else? “Zhouzhou”? People would know at once that it was Yu Jiuzhou’s shop. So, “Jiu Jiu” it was.

The Jiu Jiu Traditional Chinese Medicine Wellness Center would soon open branches all across the country.

The one unique item was essential oil. Chi Wan had been thinking of having Yu Jiuzhou try it, giving her an essential oil back massage.

But unexpectedly, Yu Jiuzhou’s face turned beet red, and she told her to get lost.

Unconvinced, after receiving the imperial edict, Chi Wan’s first stop wasn’t to collect the silver, but to find Yu Jiuzhou.

“Your Highness, an essential oil back massage is a wonderful thing. Are you sure you don’t want to try it?”

Yu Jiuzhou: “…”

Chi Wan shook her head regretfully. “Someone, bring the pig up.”

Soon, Xia Qu walked out carrying a trussed-up little piglet, its smooth back exposed.

A clear question mark appeared over Yu Jiuzhou’s head. What was this person up to?

She quickly found out what Chi Wan was planning.

Chi Wan placed the little piglet on the daybed, washed her hands, and said to Chun Gui at her side, “You, come and learn. From now on, the task of giving Her Highness essential oil back massages is yours.”

Chun Gui: “?” Learn how to massage the Grand Princess by watching a pig? Wasn’t that utterly disrespectful?

Chi Wan didn’t think so. A piglet’s skin felt more like a human’s, and it was better than a dog or cat with all their fur. Besides, those two were much harder to tie up than a pig.

“Watch carefully.”

Chi Wan instructed, then poured essential oil into her palm, rubbing her hands together before beginning to massage the piglet’s back. Her technique was as smooth as silk.

But a suspicious blush crept onto Yu Jiuzhou’s face. She was thinking, if she had agreed to Chi Wan’s offer, would those palms be massaging her own back right now?

Just the thought of it made Yu Jiuzhou’s back feel weak and tingly. It was a phantom sensation, imagining what it would feel like to have Chi Wan give her an essential oil massage.

This strange feeling intensified as Chi Wan’s hands continued to move over the little pig’s back.

Wait, was Chi Wan treating this pig as her? That scoundrel.

Yu Jiuzhou turned her head away, but she couldn’t resist peeking back. And when she did, the feeling was very strange.

Fortunately, Chi Wan didn’t massage for too long. After about ten minutes, she stood up and washed her hands.

“Did you see clearly? Just back and forth like that.”

Chun Gui: “…I didn’t understand.”

Chi Wan was speechless. The piglet had fallen into a comfortable sleep, yet Chun Gui still hadn’t grasped it.

“Forget it. I’ll personally massage Your Highness when I have the chance.”

It was just a massage, wasn’t that perfectly normal? In modern times, many people went to salons for essential oil back massages or full-body massages.

It was just that Yu Jiuzhou seemed a bit unable to accept it.

Chi Wan had someone take the sleeping piglet away, then said to Yu Jiuzhou, “Your Highness, you should trust my skills. I guarantee it will be comfortable.”

What bold and suggestive words. Only after saying them did Chi Wan realize how they sounded.

However, Yu Jiuzhou didn’t seem to catch the double meaning. She just turned her back to her. “You should go count the silver and prepare to depart.”

It was indeed time to leave. The Five Army Camps were not in the same place. Visiting one a day would take five days.

But Chi Wan had a question. “Your Highness, the silver His Majesty provided is only enough to pay the common soldiers. Will the generals and officers let that money reach their hands?”

Of course not.

Corruption involving military pay was a serious problem in the Great Zhou army.

Besides, maintaining an army wasn’t just about paying the soldiers. They also had to be fed and clothed, all of which cost a great deal of money.

Fortunately, the garrisons could produce their own grain and weren’t entirely dependent on the court.

If they were, given Great Zhou’s fiscal revenue, they simply couldn’t afford it.

Yu Jiuzhou thought for a moment. “Those medicinal pills of yours are all good things, and the prices have been set. Take some with you as gifts for the generals, and ask them to be lenient. I will also have the storehouse prepare some other suitable gifts for you to take.”

“I will speak to His Majesty about these things.”

Emperor Shengyuan had to know that the Princess’s Residence was contributing its own money and effort. They couldn’t do a good deed and keep it a secret, especially when the task was for him.

Even if it didn’t earn them a promotion, the Emperor had to remember that they had paid out of their own pockets to help him, though the gifts would be sent in his name.

That being said, everyone would know the gifts came from the Grand Princess’s Residence, and the favor would naturally be credited to the Grand Princess.

This was just to prevent the Emperor from thinking they were trying to buy military power, so they had to make it known to him.

Chi Wan nodded in understanding. “I hope I can return soon.”

If she returned before the Spring Festival banquet, she could still perform a rendition of Phoenix Seeking a Mate for Yu Jiuzhou.

A public declaration of love… just thinking about it was so embarrassing.

Chi Wan smiled. “Your Highness, when I return, I will play Phoenix Seeking a Mate for you.”

Yu Jiuzhou’s heart instantly softened, as if it had skipped a beat before suddenly beginning to pound violently.

It was an uncontrollable feeling, a feeling that inexplicably added to Chi Wan’s weight in her heart.

She couldn’t precisely articulate her inner thoughts, but she could clearly feel that Chi Wan was becoming more and more important to her, and it was no longer just about mutual benefit or a mere appreciation of Chi Wan’s talents.

Yu Jiuzhou didn’t understand this feeling, but as Chi Wan walked out the main gate of the Princess’s Residence, she came to know what “longing” was.

To be precise, it had begun the moment Chi Wan left Yongning Courtyard.

For the first time ever, she found herself thinking about why she hadn’t found an excuse to at least walk Chi Wan to the gate of the Princess’s Residence.

With this thought, Yu Jiuzhou asked in a low voice, “How many secret guards have been assigned to the Fuma?”

“Replying to Your Highness, there are two.”

Secret Guard One believed that since the Fuma could kill more than twenty assassins on her own, the protection of secret guards was somewhat redundant. They were better used for relaying information. Too many followers would make it difficult to blend into the military camps.

Yu Jiuzhou frowned. “Send a message to the Five Army Camps. If the Fuma is injured, they are to present their heads to me.”

“Yes.”

The Five Army Camps had people loyal to the three princes, but they also had her people. With military pay in arrears for so long, many in the camps had changed. Some sought power, others money.

There weren’t many who wanted nothing and remained loyal to the Emperor. The Duke of Xu’s family was one such example, but unfortunately, Emperor Shengyuan was wary of them.

Yu Jiuzhou looked out the window. A carrier pigeon flew in, and Chun Gui quickly untied the secret message from its leg.

Even if someone shot down this pigeon, they wouldn’t be able to read the contents of the message. A special potion had to be applied for the words to appear.

After preparing it, Chun Gui placed the message before Yu Jiuzhou. “Your Highness.”

The message read: 【Prince Ying has joined with others to submit a memorial impeaching Prince Zhongshan. He has also had people block all of the capital’s exits to prevent Prince Zhongshan from escaping.】

Yu Jiuzhou waved her hand, and Chun Gui took the paper to the side and burned it.

Only after the paper had turned to ash did she speak. “Send people to lend Prince Ying a hand. In the court, have others speak up for Prince Zhongshan.”

Prevent Prince Zhongshan from escaping the capital, yet also speak up for him? What did that mean?

Chun Gui was puzzled for a moment, then she understood. His Majesty was already wary of the three princes, especially the arrogant Prince Zhongshan, whose power was practically out in the open. The more people who pleaded for Prince Zhongshan at court, the more His Majesty would want him dead.

This was the very reason His Majesty had begun to rely on the three princes less and less.

Yu Jiuzhou sat quietly on the daybed, her eyes suddenly falling on the wind chime by the window.

“Someone, open the window.”

Chun Gui frowned. “Your Highness, it’s too cold outside.”

“It’s fine. Just bring me a cloak.”

Helpless, Chun Gui could only bring her a heavy fur cloak.

Then, the pleasant sound of the wind chime filled the air. Only then did Chun Gui understand that Her Highness was already starting to miss the Fuma.

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Chi Wan was feeling the pain of having a job, especially one that required business trips. Who travels through time just to have to go to work and take business trips?

On such a cold day, staying at home, gathered around a stove, would be incredibly comfortable.

They could have a hot pot with beef and mutton, a wire rack for barbecue on the stove next to it, and a warmed pot of sweet wine. It would be perfect.

Chi Wan had been thinking about that sweet wine she had last time for a long while, but she hadn’t had a chance to drink it again.

Her internal energy could expel the effects of alcohol, so as long as she didn’t drink too much, it was fine.

Such delicious sweet wine, and yet she had to go on a business trip.

Chi Wan rode a magnificent, strong mare with a beautiful coat, her expression cold. The chill emanating from her seemed even colder than the temperature itself.

The weather at the end of the first month could hardly be described by the word “cold” alone.

Following Chi Wan were eighty guards from the Imperial City Division and a thousand from the Jinwu Guard. So many people to escort the military pay.

Generally, there were no bandits outside the capital—that would be like serving up military merits on a platter. Bandits weren’t that foolish.

But they couldn’t guard against people disguising themselves as bandits. They had about a thousand people in their party. It wasn’t impossible that two or three thousand bandits could suddenly emerge as they passed some mountain.

Before setting out, Chi Wan had performed a divination. The hexagram showed only a single yang line at the top, signifying a precarious situation. To be in a desperate plight was an omen of great danger. Whether this misfortune could be turned to fortune depended on that single yang line, which represented a sliver of hope.

A sliver of hope was a tricky thing. Sometimes, even if a person knew what that hope was, they couldn’t grasp it.

So, she cast another hexagram. It pointed southeast. Was the hope in the southeast?

Her first destination was the Central Army Camp, located in the center of the capital region. The other four camps were situated at the four corners—left, right, front, and rear. The camp in the southeast was the Left Army Camp.

That was the last camp she was to visit. After that, she would return to the capital.

So, should she change her route?

Changing the route would alert the enemy, and there was no guarantee the ambush was even there. The divination only said the hope was in the southeast; it didn’t mean going there now would bring that hope.

Chi Wan sat on her horse, her face expressionless. Seeing her cold demeanor, neither the men from the Imperial City Division nor the Jinwu Guard commander dared to speak, unsure of what was happening.

In the end, Chi Wan decided to stick to the original plan. The predetermined route was Central Camp, Front Camp, Right Camp, Rear Camp, and finally, Left Camp.

The first stop was the Central Camp, where she would first meet its Grand General.

The highest-ranking officer in the Five Army Camps was the Grand General, a position of the junior second rank, unlike the Imperial Guard and the Jinwu Guard, which had a senior second-rank General-in-Chief.

Great Zhou had five Grand Generals. One was the Duke of Xu, who guarded the East Sea against Japanese pirates. As long as the pirates were not eradicated, the Xu family was in no danger. Another was the Prince of Lingnan, the great-aunt of Emperor Taizong, whose family had guarded Lingnan for generations and commanded an army of one hundred thousand.

Then there was the northern border. The garrisons in the cities there each had twenty thousand soldiers. Across the twelve cities of the northern border, there was an army of over two hundred thousand.

Beyond the border, the greatest obstacle was the garrison city next to Wucheng. It had no civilians, only two hundred thousand soldiers. These soldiers could live there with their wives and children, living like ordinary people in peacetime. But in times of war, everyone, whether Qian Yuan men or Kun Ze women, would don armor and go to battle.

At the same time, the children in the city would be sent underground. If they were victorious, the children would be brought back out. If they were defeated, they would wait for reinforcements from the court.

There was also the worst-case scenario: every man, woman, and child would become a soldier, fighting until the very last person fell.

Dragon City. Only the emperor could call himself a true dragon. The army in Dragon City was descended from the soldiers who had followed Emperor Taizu in his rebellion. For generations, their descendants had formed the army most loyal to the emperor.

They either did not move, or they moved only when the very survival of Great Zhou was at stake.

Furthermore, the Dragon City army was self-sufficient. Unless the emperor had a conscience and sent them supplies, they grew their own food and had no contact with the outside world. It was a mysterious place.

The last time the Dragon Guard Army had left the city was to quell a rebellion of vassal princes. Decades had passed in the blink of an eye, and now it was a new generation of the Dragon Guard Army.

Past Dragon City were the capital garrisons, and through them, one reached the capital. If an enemy army reached the city walls, unless the capital could hold out until reinforcements arrived from all directions, it would be over.

Chi Wan had quickly familiarized herself with Great Zhou’s military system. Besides the garrisons, there were the Weisuo troops. The Weisuo troops were supported by local governments, while the garrisons were supported by the imperial court, but all their salaries were paid by the court.

She was thinking, now that the capital garrisons were getting their pay, what would the other garrisons think? The Ministry of Revenue certainly didn’t have enough silver.

This was related to her. Her shop had just opened, and on the first day, it had earned a thousand taels—not too much, not too little.

An income of a thousand taels a day meant thirty thousand a month, and three hundred and sixty thousand a year.

Over three hundred thousand taels was a lot of silver, but it was far from her projections. There were many shops in the capital that could earn several hundred thousand taels a year, especially in the pleasure quarter district.

But once the reputation of the Jiu Jiu Wellness Center was established, a monthly income of one hundred thousand taels was possible, leading to an annual income of a million taels. That amount of money would surely be coveted by many.

And what if the shops opened all over the country? How much money could they make then?

Given Emperor Shengyuan’s greed, would he really not covet this silver? Even if he didn’t now, when military pay and other expenses were in arrears year after year, would he not set his sights on the Jiu Jiu Wellness Center?

Chi Wan felt that Emperor Shengyuan’s nobility was entirely dependent on his public image. When he reached a point where he no longer cared about face, there was no telling how greedy he might become.

Last time, when he learned that Yu Jiuzhou’s fief, the Mingzhou saltworks, had developed a new salt production method, if she hadn’t changed the subject, it was hard to say if he wouldn’t have demanded it.

The salt production method was a matter of national importance. But if given to Emperor Shengyuan, it would become a tool for amassing wealth. In that case, they would rather earn the money themselves than give it to the emperor.

Chi Wan knew that when Yu Jiuzhou claimed the new method was discovered by the saltworks, she was protecting her. If she came up with too many money-making schemes, many people would surely target her.

Eventually, someone would find a way to make her spill everything she knew.

This was why Chi Wan would tell Yu Jiuzhou but wouldn’t try to become a rich woman on her own.

With the Grand Princess backing her, no one except the emperor could take these things away. And even the emperor couldn’t do it with just a word.

Yu Jiuzhou was protecting her, so Chi Wan didn’t mind who got the credit for these methods at all.

These things were invented by her predecessors anyway; she had just studied them and was now using them after transmigrating.

If they could add some leverage to Yu Jiuzhou’s fight for the throne, then it was no big deal.

Sitting on her horse, Chi Wan’s mind began to ponder the road ahead. The plot had changed so much. In the novel, her original self was too useless; she would never have been entrusted with such an important task, especially escorting military pay to the capital garrisons.

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The journey from the capital to the Central Camp took only about six hours. They arrived right in the afternoon. The journey was uneventful, without any danger.

This was because the road from the capital to the Central Camp was smooth and flat. There were no mountains or anything of the sort; it was all plains as far as the eye could see. Even an ambush would have nowhere to hide.

Chi Wan led her troops to the outside of the Central Camp, where they were immediately stopped by the soldiers on duty.

“This is a restricted military area. No unauthorized entry.”

A chiliarch stepped forward, his cold eyes fixed on Chi Wan on her horse, then sizing up the people behind her.

Chi Wan was dressed in luxurious robes of pale blue with gold embroidery, along with a fur-lined greatcoat and a cloak. Such attire made her look like she came from a wealthy and noble background, more like a sheltered young lady who had never seen the world.

She was here to deliver military pay, not to attend court. She didn’t need to wear her grand red court robes.

Of course, she could wear the uniform of the Commander of the Imperial City Division. The newly made flying-fish robe was very handsome, but the rank of Commander was lower than that of the Central Camp’s Grand General.

Her status as Fuma was better. Traveling throughout Great Zhou, there were few whose rank was higher than hers.

The Grand Princess’s rank was above the first rank, and a commandery prince was of the junior first rank. Naturally, she was also of the junior first rank.

The only ones of the senior first rank in Great Zhou were the Three Masters, a title conferred posthumously, and the three members of the Imperial Clan Court, who never left their posts.

Chi Wan had deliberately worn this outfit. Once inside the camp, she would change into her official Fuma robes—that grand red python robe could definitely overwhelm people with its authority.

She glanced at the commander. The commander stared back at her coldly. Chen Yuan immediately stepped forward. “The Fuma is before you! Do you not grant passage?”

“Be it the Fuma or a commandery prince, without an imperial edict or a military order, no one may enter,” the commander said with an arrogant expression, clearly looking down on them.

Just as Chen Yuan was about to speak, Chi Wan raised her hand, signaling that she would speak. “This Fuma has come under His Majesty’s orders to deliver military pay. I have the imperial edict.”

Now that she had said this, even if the commander wouldn’t let them in, he should at least go and report it.

Chi Wan didn’t believe that the Central Camp hadn’t received news of her arrival with the pay. Moreover, when they were still three kilometers away, she had spotted hidden sentries watching them. The Grand General of the Central Camp definitely knew she had arrived.

But unexpectedly, the commander remained cold. “I must ask the Fuma to present the imperial edict. This subordinate must take it to the Grand General for his review.”

How stimulating. The imperial edict had arrived, but instead of it being proclaimed, he wanted her to hand it over. Then, he would take the edict to the Grand General, and only if the Grand General agreed would they be allowed to enter.

For a moment, Chi Wan didn’t know if Emperor Shengyuan’s word no longer held any weight, or if this commander had ulterior motives, or even if the entire Central Camp no longer listened to the emperor.

She waved her hand. Chen Yuan took out the imperial edict. “Give it to him.”

Chen Yuan was shocked. “Fuma, this is an imperial edict.”

If the commander had a death wish, that was his business. But for them, the imperial envoys, to simply hand over the edict like this was equivalent to “surrender.” It was a capital offense!

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