Chapter 102: Chapter 101: Send Snow Across the World to Crown.

Chapter 101.

The Wen family runs a rice business—a dominant force in the industry.

Across the Huguang region, if the Zhou family commands half the market, the Wen family controls a commanding 40%. The remaining scraps are left to smaller merchants who can only survive under the shadow of these two giants.

But the Wen family's ambitions don’t stop there. Thanks to their familial ties with the Ding family, who dominate canal transport, their rice trade extends northward, reaching Northern Zhili and even the Wangjing. The other prominent merchants of the Sanjiang Chamber of Commerce follow a similar pattern: they thrive in Huguang but also have profitable ventures elsewhere, giving them the confidence to occasionally challenge the Zhou family when their interests clash.

Today, as they gather at the government office to negotiate, these powerful merchants have come prepared to bleed. Sacrifices will be made—that much is clear.

The Wen patriarch, a shrewd and pragmatic man, wastes no time. Bowing his head in deference, he declares, “After returning last night, I had my staff recalculate the stock across our Huguang warehouses. We can spare 5,000 shi of white rice for disaster relief. And rest assured, I wouldn’t dare demand extortionate prices. While the market rate is currently 2 taels per shi, Wen’s Rice Shops will sell it for just 1 tael and 5 qian.”

His voice is smooth, his demeanor servile, but his eyes flick nervously to gauge the reaction of the eunuch Xue Shu.

Xue Shu remains stone-faced, unmoved. Intimidated, the Wen patriarch retreats, allowing the other merchants to step forward and report their stocks—be it coal, cloth, or cotton. Each contribution is a scarce and desperately needed resource.

When everyone has spoken, an unsettling silence falls. Xue Shu finally lets out a low chuckle, his sharp, predatory gaze slicing through the room, before locking onto the Wen patriarch.

“I hear,” Xue Shu begins, voice dripping with disdain, “that the Wen family has warehouses in more than ten counties—Tongcheng, Hanchuan, Huarong, and others—with over 50,000 shi of white rice alone. As for these prices…” He smirks, his tone now razor-sharp. “In normal years, white rice sells for no more than 8 qian to 1 tael per shi. Even with the droughts and reduced harvests, the price only climbed to 1 tael and 2 qian. The most premium new rice topped out at 1 tael and 5 qian. Yet, after this snowstorm, you greedy merchants hoarded supplies, jacking up prices to 2 or even 3 taels.”

He leans forward, his voice deceptively calm but weighted with menace. “Do you take me for a fool?”

The room freezes. His aura of quiet dominance presses down like a storm. “Is this what you call sincerity?”

The Wen patriarch’s face drains of color. Xue Shu’s claim about the stockpile is accurate—down to the last grain.

How could he possibly know?

Panic surges, but the patriarch forces himself to stammer out a response. “This… this isn’t intentional deceit, sir. The Wen family has many warehouses, and we must reserve stocks for operations. After accounting for everything, we could only spare 5,000 shi—”

“Enough,” Xue Shu snaps, cutting him off with a scornful laugh. He doesn’t waste time arguing. Turning to the rest of the merchants, he declares, “I’ll be lenient and allow you to keep 30% of your stock for operations. But the remaining 70%? That goes to disaster relief. And as for the price? Consider yourselves lucky—I’ll allow a 30% discount from the rates you just offered.”

70% discount?!

Wouldn't that mean they could only get 30% of the original price?!

A murmur of shock ripples through the room. Seventy percent of their stock, sold at less than a third of the inflated market price? It’s a brutal blow, a loss that cuts deep.

But no one dares protest. Not against him.

A group of powerful merchants sat momentarily stunned, fear twisting with anger in their chests.

The leader among them, Chief Zhu, tried to reason, his voice tinged with desperation. “Eunuch Xue, taking 70% is too much. We may seem to thrive, but we still have countless workers depending on us for their livelihoods...”

Another chimed in hurriedly, “Indeed, the court’s efforts to aid disaster relief are commendable, and we’re more than willing to contribute. But to strip us of 70%—please, Eunuch Xue, have mercy!”

Fear of consequences momentarily forgotten, the group erupted in pleading protests, each desperate to safeguard their interests.

Chief Wen, another of the merchants, mistakenly took Xue Shu’s silence as a sign their collective resistance might be working. Emboldened, he added, “The Crown Prince is renowned for his compassion, treating his subjects like his own children. Are we merchants not also his children? Please, Eunuch Xue, leave us a way to survive!”

The pleas grew louder, increasingly impassioned, until Xue Shu let out a sudden laugh, sharp and cold, cutting through their protests like a blade.

Slowly, he stood.

Raising his hand, he gave a single, imperious signal. The guards sprang into action, seizing the merchants. A swift kick to their knees forced them down, their privileged pride shattered as they were brought to the ground like common criminals.

Stunned and panicked, the merchants hesitated. Chief Wen struggled to keep his composure, his voice trembling as he asked, “Eunuch Xue, what is the meaning of this? We only sought to negotiate the terms, not to commit any crime!”

Xue Shu strolled forward leisurely, his polished boots echoing in the tense silence. He stopped before Wen, towering over him with a gaze that gleamed like frost.

His lips curled into a faint, mocking smile. “Negotiate? With the Eastern Bureau?” he said, his voice dripping with disdain. “This is a first.”

Though his smile remained, his eyes were hard as steel, piercing and utterly without warmth.

“But since you asked, I’ll enlighten you before sending you on your way.” With a flick of his wrist, a guard handed him a stack of papers, which he tossed unceremoniously to the floor in front of Wen. “Here. Freshly uncovered evidence. Take a good look.”

The moment he uttered the words “Eastern Bureau,” the merchants’ faces went pale as paper. They had known Xue Shu to be a trusted confidant of the Crown Prince but had no inkling of his affiliation with the feared Eastern Bureau.

Chief Wen bent reluctantly, trembling hands picking up the papers. As his eyes scanned the contents, his face drained of what little color remained. Sweat poured down his brow, and his body quaked, yet he stubbornly sputtered, “T-this is baseless! Fabricated lies!”

Earlier, the officers were sent to investigate these people, but the whole thing was rushed, so there wasn’t enough time to dig deep. What they found was mostly surface-level dirt—petty mischief, shady secrets not meant to see the light of day. Nothing that would truly count as a crime, just enough to intimidate or scare them straight.

But Xue Shu wasn’t about to let it slide. He told the officers to keep digging, to pull on every loose thread until they unraveled something big. And guess what? They did—they uncovered a murder case.

Here’s the scandal: the head of the Wen family was screwing around with his widowed sister-in-law. Things got messy when a maid caught wind of their affair. To cover it up, Patriarch Wen strangled the poor girl to death. Only after she was gone did he realize the maid wasn’t just some common servant—she was a freeborn citizen.

Now, according to Da Yan’s law, if you kill a servant without reason, the punishment is relatively light: a beating and a year of hard labor, and the rest of the household servants are set free. But if the victim happens to be a freeborn citizen, the stakes are entirely different.

Murdering a freeborn woman? That’s a death sentence. The killer pays with their life—execution by beheading.

Xue Shu crouched down to his level, calm and deliberate, his voice a sinister whisper. “Baseless? Lies?” His smile turned razor-sharp. “Every criminal I’ve ever dealt with said the same thing. Care to guess where they ended up?”

Chief Wen couldn’t answer. His lips quivered, and he fought to hold back a full-body tremor.

Xue Shu exhaled, irritated by the lack of a response. His patience snapped. Standing abruptly, he drew a guard’s sword without warning and brought it down with a savage precision.

Three of Chief Wen’s fingers hit the floor, severed cleanly. Blood sprayed in violent arcs as Chief Wen shrieked like a gutted pig, his anguished cries echoing in the chamber. Only the guards restraining him kept him from writhing across the ground.

The others froze in horror, their fear suffocating the air.

Casually, Xue Shu sheathed the bloodied blade and turned to his guards, his voice indifferent. “Take those fingers to Wen’s family. Tell them to send someone competent to handle these affairs.”

Satisfied, his gaze swept over the remaining merchants, all trembling like cornered prey. His tone softened, yet carried a deadly edge. “The Crown Prince is merciful and prefers to act with leniency. I, however, have no such patience. You have two days to prepare the full amount. Fail, and I will personally see to the consequences.”

With that, he gestured for the unconscious Chief Wen to be dragged out. “Chief Wen will be accompanying me for a while. As for the rest of you—handle your affairs wisely.”

The door slammed shut behind them, leaving the remaining merchants paralyzed in a silence thick with dread.

The moment he left, those vicious, bloodthirsty guards followed suit, their heavy boots stomping away in a deafening roar. If not for the dark, crimson stain on the side chamber's floor, it would be easy to believe nothing had ever happened.

The prominent merchants, once so full of themselves, now cowered like beaten dogs. Without a second thought, they scurried back to their homes, all illusions of escaping consequences thoroughly shattered.

Meanwhile, the guards hauled the head merchant off to the county jail. His crimes would be handled by the magistrates—it wasn’t even worth involving the Eastern Bureau. As for Xue Shu, he personally sought out Jiang Zheng and Ying Hongxue.

After today’s spectacle, those merchants would no doubt tread carefully. The only remaining task was to find two reliable individuals to manage the relief goods for the disaster-stricken areas.

Ying Hongxue was trustworthy, one of his own. Jiang Zheng, on the other hand, represented the Huguang government—a mutually beneficial pairing that promised smooth cooperation.

After briefing the two of them, Xue Shu prepared to leave.

Ying Hongxue’s gaze lingered on his retreating back. She hesitated, then called out, her voice firm, yet tinged with unease.

“Brother Xue, a moment.”

Xue Shu turned, a slight smile playing on his lips. “What is it, sister?”

She wanted to ask, to probe into the strange dynamic between him and the Crown Prince—a tension she had noticed since the winter hunt.

Rumors often circulated about imperial scions indulging in their whims, particularly with beautiful young eunuchs. Although the Crown Prince didn’t seem the type, and Xue Shu was far from a helpless victim, something was undeniably amiss between the two of them.

But how could she ask such a question now?

She sighed softly, weighing her words. “Using your beauty as a tool will only get you so far. You need to focus on accomplishing real deeds for His Highness... and prepare an escape route for yourself if need be.”

Xue Shu’s brow lifted, a knowing smirk curving his lips. Her meaning was crystal clear, and he even softened his tone in response. “I’ll remember your advice, sister.”

After parting ways with Ying Hongxue, Xue Shu returned to the eastern wing of the county office.

He strode toward the courtyard gate, each step confident, until he stopped abruptly. A brief hesitation flickered in his eyes. But it passed quickly, his resolve settling like an iron weight.

The Crown Prince already knew exactly what kind of man he was. There was no point in pretending otherwise.

Suppressing the nervous flutter in his chest, Xue Shu pushed forward, his stride deliberate as he headed toward the main room.

Inside, Yin Chengyu remained confined to his quarters, recovering from his illness. The chill of winter made it inadvisable for him to venture out, so meals were brought directly to him. When Xue Shu arrived, servants were just finishing setting a steaming array of dishes on the table.

Waving them away, Xue Shu stepped inside. He caught Yin Chengyu reaching for his robe to rise, and without a word, pressed him back onto the bed.

“I’ll serve Your Highness,” Xue Shu said, his voice calm but firm.

“I’ve caught a cold, not broken my hands,” Yin Chengyu replied dryly, though he made no further move.

“Still, allow me.”

Their gazes locked, Yin Chengyu’s sharp and probing, Xue Shu’s unyielding. Finally, the Crown Prince relented, leaning back with a lazy smirk. “Fine. Bring me a bowl of porridge.”

The kitchen had prepared a simple, light meal appropriate for his condition. Xue Shu ladled a bowl of shredded chicken congee, added a few side dishes, and knelt by the bed to feed him.

Yin Chengyu ate with a quiet elegance, each motion calculated and refined. Xue Shu watched, almost entranced, as he tended to the prince’s every request. Only when the meal was finished and Yin Chengyu shook his head did Xue Shu set the bowl aside. Taking a handkerchief, he gently wiped the prince’s lips.

Yin Chengyu tilted his head back, allowing the attention without resistance. Then, his voice dropped, smooth and deceptively soft. “Is there nothing you wish to tell me?”

Xue Shu’s gaze flickered, avoiding the question. His reply came cool and measured. “The past cannot be undone. I only wish to cherish the present.”

“What are you afraid of?” Yin Chengyu’s eyes narrowed, catching the subtle evasion. He leaned forward, his hand gripping Xue Shu’s chin, forcing their eyes to meet. His voice grew dangerously low, a blade cloaked in silk. “I’ll ask you again—what are you afraid of?”

Xue Shu’s lips pressed into a thin line, his silence as telling as it was stubborn.

Yin Chengyu scoffed, the sound cold and sharp. Frustration simmered beneath his composed facade, but as his gaze softened, it was evident that a gentler emotion had taken hold.

“I’ve lived twenty-eight years, dedicating myself entirely to the empire. Never once have I indulged in selfish desires.” His grip tightened briefly before loosening, his tone slow and deliberate, like a vow etched into stone. “Sparing your life was my only act of selfishness.”

Xue Shu stared at him, the weight of those words settling deep in his chest.

For a man like Yin Chengyu, power was absolute, and emotion was weakness. Yet here he was, baring his vulnerability in the quietest, yet most profound of ways.

Eliminating him is the only way to secure the court’s power and keep the country stable.

Yet, even now, the thought of being merciless enough to finish him off gnaws at his resolve.