Chapter 294 The Way of Being an Official
In the woods beside the official road, several soldiers in uniform were hiding behind trees, staring intently at the porridge-giving team not far away.
"Boss, should we stop them?"
A young runner asked in a lowered voice, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the hilt of the knife at his waist.
"This is cross-border disaster relief..."
The leading constable sneered, took out an exquisite snuff bottle from his bosom, and leisurely took a sniff.
"Stop them? Do you think these people can appear here swaggeringly for no reason?"
He narrowed his eyes, his gaze sweeping over those expensively dressed merchants.
"To tell you the truth, the disaster relief team sent by the imperial court arrived at the prefectural city three days ago."
The young runner widened his eyes: "Then why..."
"Why not let them out?"
The constable smiled meaningfully.
"The Prefect said the disaster relief grain and fodder still need to be 'prepared'."
He deliberately emphasized the words "prepared".
"With this preparation, doesn't it just give some people time to make arrangements?"
The constable patted the young runner on the shoulder.
"Learn a bit; in these times, just knowing how to use a knife won't let you live long."
The young runner looked at those merchants "giving porridge".
He saw them hypocritically distributing thin porridge while secretly selecting young, strong refugees, and suddenly understood something, his face turning deathly pale.
...
And at the same time, inside the city walls not far away.
Liu Mingyuan smashed his wine cup heavily onto the desk, splashing wine onto his sleeve.
"Brother Zhang!"
His voice was extremely low, but he couldn't suppress the trembling.
"I went to inspect the warehouse today. Three hundred thousand dan of disaster relief grain, less than half remains. The rest is all chaff and fodder!"
"Hateful! Those corrupt officials actually resold the grain meant for humans and want to use that chaff and fodder meant for beasts to feed those refugees!"
Zhang Ruxian's chopsticks paused in mid-air.
He picked up a slice of sauced beef, placed it in his mouth methodically, and chewed.
Candlelight cast shadows on his round face, and the jade pendant at his waist swayed gently with his movements.
"Mingyuan..."
He took out a silk handkerchief and wiped the corner of his mouth.
"Do you know why you only managed to get a Rank 6 Secretary position at thirty-eight? It's because of this straight intestine of yours."
Suddenly, a few wails came from outside the window.
Liu Mingyuan stood up abruptly, his official robe knocking over a celadon wine cup.
Outside the rosewood lattice, the cold sunlight shone on the refugees lying haphazardly outside the yamen.
"Listen! That is people eating dirt!"
His fists pounded on the desk with a thud.
"Yet we are here..."
"Fulfilling our duties."
Zhang Ruxian suddenly cut him off, taking out a gilded snuff bottle from his sleeve to play with.
"Tell me, which came first? The appointed officials of the court, or these common people?"
Liu Mingyuan choked on his words.
Amidst the popping of the candle wick, he saw the other party's well-maintained fingers caressing the words "Imperial Gift" on the snuff bottle.
"Without us officials, who would uphold justice for them?"
Zhang Ruxian suddenly leaned forward, the scent of incense mixed with the smell of wine rushing toward him.
"Vice Minister Wang needs to be taken care of, and Father-in-Law Li needs to be honored..."
He made a gesture for counting silver.
"This money and grain, if it doesn't come from the disaster relief funds, do you expect us to pay out of our own pockets?"
The wine pot was knocked over, the amber liquid winding into a river on the desk.
Liu Mingyuan stared at that trail of wine, suddenly recalling the scene he had seen a few days prior—refugees holding porridge mixed with Guanyin soil, with a few starved ants settled at the bottom of their bowls.
"Brother Ruxian..."
His voice was hoarse.
"Acting like this, can you still sleep peacefully at night?"
Zhang Ruxian suddenly laughed, the jade belt buckle at his waist jingling, then he sighed.
"Mingyuan... to save the people, one must first save the officials~ If the officials aren't fed, where will they have the strength to provide disaster relief!"
Subsequently, Zhang Ruxian quietly slipped a thick stack of silver notes from under the table to Liu Mingyuan.
The candlelight flickered, reflecting the dark patterns on the stack of silver notes in Zhang Ruxian's hand.
Liu Mingyuan stared at that stack of silver notes, as if looking at a poisonous snake.
His hand hung in mid-air, hesitating to take it.
"Mingyuan,"
Zhang Ruxian sighed and pushed the silver notes forward a bit.
"If you don't take it, how will you advance?"
"For the sake of many years of family friendship,"
Liu Mingyuan finally spoke, his voice low.
"I can turn a blind eye to what you are doing. But taking this money..."
He shook his head.
"It goes against my conscience."
Zhang Ruxian suddenly smiled; his laughter carried a hint of helplessness, yet also seemed like mockery.
He stood up, walked around the desk to Liu Mingyuan's side, and patted his shoulder.
"Mingyuan, you are someone who wants to do great things."
His voice suddenly became earnest and heavy-toned.
"But if you want to do great things, you must first stand in a high position. Otherwise, with you being a minor official, unable to even protect your own official hat, how can you speak of serving the country and the people?"
As he spoke, he stuffed that stack of silver notes into Liu Mingyuan's sleeve.
"Moreover..."
Zhang Ruxian narrowed his eyes, lowering his voice.
"If you don't take it, how would I dare to take it?"
Liu Mingyuan frowned and looked up at him.
Zhang Ruxian continued.
"If I don't take it, how would the Imperial Commissioner dare to take it? Only when the Imperial Commissioner takes it will he go to His Majesty to strive for more disaster relief silver and grain..."
He paused meaningfully.
"Right?"
Liu Mingyuan fell silent.
He thought of these past years, how because of his uprightness and incorruptibility, he was suppressed everywhere, with no hope of promotion, and even the memorials he submitted were secretly intercepted.
He thought of the desperate eyes of those refugees, thought of how he was full of hot blood but could not even protect a single county yamen's granary...
The candlelight jumped, reflecting his struggling face.
In the end, he slowly closed his eyes, and the hand in his sleeve clenched that stack of silver notes.
No one noticed that just at the distant horizon, a streak of light sped past, then gently landed behind those refugees...
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