After the New Emperor Ascended, He First Demoted Me to Farming - Chapter 4

Chapter 4

We caught three assassins.

Two had backbone. One was afraid of pain.

The one afraid of pain was surnamed Ma, a minor clerk at the Qingzhou granary.

He said someone had paid them to come burn down my house and take the wooden box and the land deed while they were at it.

I asked, “Who?”

Clerk Ma looked like he was about to cry.

“I really don’t know. All I know is that the order came from the capital.”

Shen Zhao set his blade down on the table.

Clerk Ma immediately changed his tune.

“But I did hear them mention someone.”

“Who?”

“Chancellor Zheng.”

Zheng Chong.

A veteran official of three reigns, the man who had presided over my father’s case back then.

He was also the first to help Xie Xuan ascend the throne.

My heart sank.

For Xie Xuan to stabilize the court after taking the throne, he could not touch Zheng Chong for the time being.

So he sent me out of the capital.

Made Zheng Chong think I had fallen out of favor.

Then planted me right beside the Qingzhou Grain Transport Administration.

That man truly knew how to put people to work.

I was angry for a while, then found it laughable.

Three years ago, when he was down and out, I had ordered him around and made him wash clothes.

Now it was his turn to order me around to investigate the grain case.

One good turn deserved another, I supposed.

The next day, I tied the three assassins to the scarecrows at the edge of the field.

The villagers gathered in a circle.

Uncle Zhou asked, “What are you doing?”

I said, “Scaring birds.”

Clerk Ma sobbed, “Miss, I’m a person.”

I nodded.

“The birds don’t know that.”

The village children laughed so hard they rolled all over the ground.

After the assassins made trouble, the people of North Ridge began to believe that I had not come here merely to dig up soil.

Uncle Zhou brought a few old farmers to help me turn the earth.

They said the soil in North Ridge was thin, but the mountain springs were cold. If we had seeds that could withstand the cold, it might not be impossible to try.

The day Qiubai was planted, the sky was terribly overcast.

I crouched on the ridge between the fields, my fingers covered in mud.

Shen Zhao handed me a waterskin.

“Miss, take a rest.”

I shook my head.

“One more furrow.”

“Why are you in such a hurry?”

I looked toward Qingzhou in the distance.

“If the Qingzhou Grain Transport Administration is truly rotten to the core, people will die this winter.”

Shen Zhao fell silent.

He crouched down and clumsily followed my lead, scattering seeds.

The wind swept across the field ridge, and I suddenly thought of Xie Xuan.

The year he was deposed, he had always followed me in silence like this while I worked.

When I told him to boil water, he boiled it.

When I told him to mend clothes, he mended them.

When I scolded him for his ugly stitches, he lowered his head, picked them out, and sewed them again.

Once, he asked me, “Jiang Wan, aren’t you afraid I’ll rise again one day?”

I said, “Afraid of what?”

“Afraid I’ll hold a grudge.”

At the time, I stuffed a steamed bun into his hand.

“Then live long enough to see the day you can hold one.”

Later, he did live to see it.

And the first thing he did was demote me and send me away.

The more I thought about it, the angrier I became. I scattered the seeds as if I were scattering an enemy’s ashes.

Shen Zhao asked cautiously, “Miss, are you cursing His Majesty?”

“No.”

“Your expression says you are.”

“Then you saw wrong.”

“Shadow guards have very good eyes.”

I slapped a handful of mud onto the back of his hand.

“Not anymore.”

Half a month later, Qiubai sprouted.

Pale bluish-white shoots pushed up through the thin soil, like a row of tiny slender swords.

Uncle Zhou’s eyes shone as he looked at them.

“This thing really can survive.”

I crouched at the edge of the field, my own heart beating faster as well.

That night, I received Xie Xuan’s first letter.

It had been tucked inside a sack of salt delivered by a grain merchant.

There were only two lines.

If Qiubai lives, Qingzhou can live.

Jiang Wan, do not go soft.

I stared at the last three words for a long time.

He knew I would go soft.

He knew I would go soft when I saw disaster victims, when I saw a minor clerk cry, when I saw someone from the past reduced to a sorry state.

But he did not know who I most wanted to be merciless toward right now.

I picked up my brush and wrote back.

Rest assured, Your Majesty.

I am cruelest to you.