As long as construction at Guangxia Quarter could continue moving forward, the pressure on the Bureau of Works would ease considerably.
Zhang Zhixu returned to his office, originally intending to tally up the losses from Guangxia Quarter, when he received a freshly delivered letter of censure.
Letters of censure were mostly used by superior yamen offices to report on subordinates, and simply by handling the envelope, he already had a fair sense of its contents.
He opened it and read — sure enough: Patrol Camp Commander Lu Shouhuai was censuring the Military Officers’ Yamen’s Chen Baoxiang for unauthorized deployment of troops, resulting in the delayed response to the fire at Xuanhe Quarter, five residential buildings burned to the ground, and seven civilians killed.
Zhang Zhixu furrowed his brows.
So many things had happened in the span of just a few short hours — he hadn’t anticipated it, and naturally neither had Chen Baoxiang.
Chen Baoxiang was in the middle of turning away some overeager idle men: “I really can’t take in any more mouths to feed — I’ve already got over two hundred people packed into that big courtyard of mine.”
“The Military Officers’ Yamen is still hiring, why don’t you all go give it a try?”
Just as she was saying this, Fan Tian came running over, looking extremely agitated: “Chen Baoxiang, you’ve gotten yourself into trouble again!”
“Huh?” She stood up with a bewildered look on her face. “I’ve been right here the whole time, haven’t moved an inch.”
“That’s exactly the problem.” He braced his hands on his knees, catching his breath. “Who told you to stay here? There was a fire over at Xuanhe Quarter, the Patrol Camp was short-handed, you received the dispatch order and never showed up — people have died over there!”
Her heart jolted. Chen Baoxiang immediately drew her blade and strode outside.
The fire suppression team had already doused the remaining flames. The street was blanketed in white smoke and charred timber, and surviving residents knelt weeping at the roadside.
Xuanhe Quarter sat beside the lake — there hadn’t been a fire here in decades. Under normal circumstances, ten or so patrol officers was more than enough. Who could have anticipated that today, even though she had already sent fifty men over in advance, it still wasn’t enough to prevent the disaster.
“Chief, this fire was deliberate.”
“What?”
“A few of us searched the surrounding area and found three or four torches. In the backyard of one of the houses we managed to save, there was a half-bucket of oil lying on its side.” Zhao Huaizhu said furiously. “What accident? This was murder in broad daylight!”
Chen Baoxiang looked at the physical evidence they had brought over, her expression growing progressively darker.
In an ordinary vendetta killing, someone wouldn’t burn down an entire block of residences — who could possibly have enemies with so many households at once? Nor would they use something as expensive as oil to douse the houses; the common folk were already poor enough that they wouldn’t throw money around so carelessly.
But if you considered this alongside what had happened at Guangxia Quarter today —
It looked exactly like a trap: either to ensnare Zhang Zhixu, or to destroy her outright.
“Keep the evidence safe and find an opportunity to deliver it into Xie Lanting’s hands at the Court of Judicial Review.” She seemed to sense something and looked toward the street entrance. “This is bad — I’m afraid I’m in for some suffering again.”
As if in response to her words, two squadrons of patrol soldiers surged out from the street entrance, grabbed her without ceremony, and began dragging her in the direction of the yamen — no explanations given.
Chen Baoxiang remained relatively composed, thinking that the worst they could pin on her officially was a beating with a plank or a whipping — punishments that came through proper channels wouldn’t actually cost her her life.
But what she hadn’t expected was that after entering the yamen, no one came to interrogate her, and no one came to carry out any punishment. She stood there for a while, and the yamen runner beside her even helpfully brought over a stool for her to sit on, telling her to wait patiently for now.
The treatment was far too generous — Chen Baoxiang could hardly believe it.
Wasn’t the usual procedure to get beaten the moment you walked in the door?
Even more absurd: after waiting a brief while, a presiding official arrived, and before she could even rise to her feet, he had her sit back down and placed a plate of fruit beside her. “Official Chen, your reputation precedes you. Rest assured — this is merely a formality. Once word comes from above, you’ll be free to go.”
She stared at him blankly. “Is Magistrate Xie so capable then? I haven’t even sent him the evidence yet, and he already knows I’ve been wronged?”
“Magistrate Xie?” The presiding official smiled. “It is Magistrate Zhang’s keen discernment you should be thanking.”
Magistrate Zhang? Zhang Zhixu?
The immortal was naturally her guardian star — but a life had been lost today, and she had indeed received a dispatch order she hadn’t followed. No matter how you looked at it, one couldn’t simply pretend nothing had happened.
“Still better not to drag him into this,” she muttered.
The presiding official heard her, rose from his seat and strolled over to her side, lowering his voice: “What dragging-into, what not-dragging-into? For Magistrate Zhang, it’s a matter of a few words — when you see him, I do hope you’ll put in a good word for me.”
Before today, Chen Baoxiang had only heard of Zhang Zhixu’s power and influence — she had never truly witnessed it firsthand.
But now her eyes had been opened. After something this serious, anyone else would at minimum receive thirty lashes of the plank and then be exiled eight hundred li away. Yet here she sat, on a stool, eating fruit, with the presiding official standing beside her offering apologetic smiles.
Before long, she even received a promotion order.
“Congratulations, Official Chen,” the official who delivered it said with great eagerness. “For your meritorious service in quelling the disturbance at Guangxia Quarter today, after deliberation by the Ministry of Personnel above, you are hereby specially promoted to the position of Chief Military Records Officer of the Bureau of Works’ General Directorate, rank of fifth grade, with a salary equal to that of the various camp commanders.”
Chen Baoxiang was so stunned her jaw dropped, and she turned the transfer order over and over in her hands: “And the punishment? The punishment for my dereliction of duty?”
“Official Chen must be so overjoyed she’s confused,” the man said meaningfully. “It is perfectly clear that today you first received the Bureau of Works’ dispatch order and proceeded to Guangxia Quarter as reinforcement. Under the laws of the Great Sheng, a superior official within the same yamen holds priority dispatch authority over subordinates — so what does that later dispatch order from the Patrol Camp have to do with you?”
It could work like that?
Chen Baoxiang held the paper, somewhat dazed.
She was respectfully escorted out of the yamen, and respectfully handed into a carriage.
Evening had fallen, and Bright Pearl Tower had once again lit its lanterns.
The moment Zhang Zhixu stepped through the door, he sensed something was off.
Chen Baoxiang was neither bouncing about nor making a fuss today — she was actually sitting at the table reading his copy of The Great Sheng Legal Code from his bookshelf, her gaze intent and expression focused.
By rights he ought to compliment her on this, but—
He glanced at the spine of the book, which she was holding upside down, and pulled up the stool beside her and sat down. “Something on your mind?”
“Hardly,” she stubbornly turned a page. “I got a promotion today. I’m delighted.”
Did this look like delight?