“You’re up.” Chen Baoxiang beamed and spread her hands open toward him.
He bent down and lifted her up to stand, full of bewilderment.
“I’ve taken on disciples,” she said, her arms looped around his neck and her smile bright. “Quite a few of them.”
She had the title of Marquis now and held real authority, but her reputation was truly dreadful, and most colleagues were unwilling to associate with her. Taking on disciples was, admittedly, a rather good way to pass the time.
But even so.
He frowned at the chests: “Isn’t the initiation gift a little generous?”
“Is it?” She blinked at him with innocent eyes. “They send me things, and I help them secure official positions and promotions — given how good those terms are, this much of an initiation gift is hardly excessive, is it?”
Zhang Zhixu: “…”
“Are you trying to give Xie Lanting even more charges to bring against you?”
“Accepting gifts, then doing a few favors in return — isn’t that the unspoken convention of officialdom? Does that count as a crime?” Chen Baoxiang whipped a ledger out from behind her back in an instant. “Well then, the number of people guilty of the same offence as me is quite extensive — from the chief ministers of the Three Departments down to the minor attendant officials, including people from the Zhang household and the Gu household. Everyone has committed this particular error.”
“Never mind the bank notes and other items — just counting those who ran a tab at Zhaixing Tower and had someone else settle it for them, there are no fewer than fifty.”
Zhang Zhixu was stunned.
He reached out to take the ledger and leafed through a couple of pages, then pressed his hand down on it: “How did you come to have something like this?”
“Patrolled the city enough times, and you naturally end up with it,” she said, eyes bright with mischief, clutching the ledger to her chest. “With this many people to take the fall alongside me, even if I were caught accepting bribes, the punishment wouldn’t be severe.”
Zhang Zhixu’s brow slowly drew together, and he seemed to want to say something but couldn’t quite bring himself to.
“Great Immortal,” she said, looking at him with crystalline eyes. “Are you about to scold me?”
Honestly — yes. Accepting bribes was nothing to be proud of. By improperly promoting certain people, she was inevitably and unfairly displacing others who deserved the positions instead.
He had spent recent sleepless nights revising the new statutes governing the imperial examinations precisely to make the path to official service fairer for everyone — so that those who had studied hard and honestly would receive what was rightfully theirs.
And now, here she was accepting bribes right in front of him.
Zhang Zhixu was entirely at a loss.
Chen Baoxiang took his hand and gave it a gentle, coaxing shake: “Turn a blind eye — is that all right?”
“…That’s rather difficult.”
“Do you want to personally send me to prison, then?”
“Is there any chance I could first persuade you to return everything and step back from the edge?”
“No.” She shook her head. “You know me — I love money most of all.”
Zhang Zhixu fell silent. His eyelids lowered, casting a shadowed crescent beneath them. His wide sleeves caught the winter wind and billowed aimlessly, like a grey banner hanging limp on a solitary pole.
Chen Baoxiang waited for quite a long while, but never heard from his lips those words: Then I’ll report you myself.
Zhang Zhixu was the finest-kept gentleman she had ever known — clothed in silk, nourished on the finest things, untouched by great suffering, such that even in his most painful moments, his eyes were like beautiful glass, unstained by the deep silt at the very bottom of the world.
He didn’t care for money, and wouldn’t be led by interest to stray from his path. He only wanted, with his whole heart, to draft a set of laws that were absolutely fair, and to cultivate a world where everyone had enough to eat and no one was made to suffer — a world where all people could live in happiness and joy.
She had once imagined the same thing, but now she knew clearly: it could never come to pass.
But she was very glad that he held such a wish, and had no desire to shatter it.
This was how a Great Immortal ought to be. This was what it meant to save all living beings.
But right now, the Great Immortal had discovered her “corruption,” sword raised and hovering, torn between two impossible choices.
And he had not immediately dragged her off to the authorities.