Chapter Thirty-Two: Hidden Strife

Although Imperial Censor Liu Zhao, tasked with inspecting the locust-stricken provinces, had already been residing at the county office in Dengfeng for several days, the atmosphere within the official quarters remained tense and subdued. Whether servant girls or yamen runners, everyone moved with utmost caution; voices were kept deliberately low, and every comings and goings were accompanied by stealthy, tiptoeing steps. Not long before, a yamen runner who had long served at the county office had been expelled simply for an ill-chosen remark. Though his life was spared, all knew that the reputation and connections he had painstakingly built up over a score of years were now utterly ruined—he would never again find a footing within the county office.

After a dinner that did little to whet his appetite, Liu Zhao swept his sleeves and departed. The moment he left, a collective sigh of relief passed through the officials—from the county assistant and registrar to the two constables. Yet even County Magistrate Cui Weizhi’s expression was far from pleasant. In an attempt to lighten the mood, Treasurer Qian cleared his throat and remarked, “That Du Nineteenth is truly too insolent for his own good…”

“It grows late—let us all disperse,” Cui Weizhi interrupted before Qian could finish. Rising to his feet with a cold tone, he watched as his subordinates hurriedly bowed and took their leave, then turned and walked out himself. Once he exited the reception hall, Cui Yuan, who had instructed several servant girls to follow at a distance, quickly caught up to him. Only then did Cui Weizhi speak: “Earlier, at the marketplace, what exactly did that Du Nineteenth say, and how did the common folk react? Tell me every word, just as it happened—leave nothing out.”

Cui Yuan dared not slacken and immediately repeated, in detail, the situation that the runner Wu Jiu had just investigated. Fortunately, Wu Jiu’s memory was excellent—even the half-verse of poetry had been committed to heart. After Cui Yuan’s report, Cui Weizhi muttered the lines to himself twice, then his face darkened with anger.

“This Liu Zhao, sent to inspect the counties, asks not how much the locusts have destroyed, but only whether the people are being conscripted to catch them, and how many have been caught. Clearly, he cares naught for the disaster itself, but only seeks to overturn Minister Han’s previous memorial! Judging from his tone, it seems Chancellor Yao still does not intend to petition for tax relief in the afflicted regions!”

Such weighty matters left Cui Yuan no room to interject; he simply followed in silence. Cui Weizhi, for his part, had never expected advice from a mere servant. Still simmering with anger, he returned straight to his private chambers, brusquely dismissing the servant girls who moved forward to help him change, and sat cross-legged in the central seat. Only after some time did his narrowed eyes gradually relax; then he stood, shaking out his robe.

His fourth brother, Cui Taizhi, had earned merit in the execution of the Two Zhangs; his sixth brother, Cui Ezhizhi, had been instrumental in quelling the Wei clan—both men close to the Emperor’s heart. Now, as he found himself unable to decide, he resolved to write a letter home and let them deliberate. As for the trouble stirred up by Du Nineteenth of Jingzhao, considering that he and Cui Jianxuan were fellow disciples and close friends, Cui Weizhi thought it no harm to give him a discreet push.

“Seventh Lord, are you going out again?”

Turning around, Cui Weizhi saw it was his wife, Lady Wang. Recalling that he had not greeted her upon entering earlier, he smiled apologetically. “Please rest, my lady. I must go see Censor Liu.”

Taking Cui Yuan with him to the quarters where Liu Zhao was temporarily staying, he sent word to announce his visit, but was left waiting at the door for a full quarter of an hour before receiving a belated reply. Though inwardly cursing the man’s arrogance, Cui Weizhi knew the post of Imperial Censor, while low in rank, carried real weight—especially with Yao Chong standing behind Liu Zhao, a truly formidable figure. Thus, when he finally entered, his face betrayed not the least embarrassment at being kept outside; instead, he offered a beaming, respectful bow: “So late, and yet you have not retired, Censor Liu? Such diligence is truly admirable!”

Though thick-skinned, Liu Zhao had been brooding since returning to his chambers, and even such flattery left him ill at ease. He stiffly gestured for Cui Weizhi to sit, then, with a trace of hauteur, asked, “Why has the Magistrate come at such an hour? Have you some instruction for me?”

“Not instruction, merely a question,” Cui Weizhi replied, maintaining his genial smile before this younger man, who was both his junior by a decade and lower by seven or eight official ranks. “Tomorrow, Gongsun Lady will perform at the marketplace. Will Censor Liu attend?”

“What?” Liu Zhao’s face darkened in surprise. Cui Weizhi, still smiling, continued, “Gongsun Lady is renowned throughout the North; wherever she travels, the gentry vie to invite her. Now that she is in Dengfeng, the townsfolk are abuzz—her promise to share in the people’s joy has spread through the streets. If I, as magistrate, turn a blind eye, word will get out that I am aloof from the people. If you, Censor, are otherwise engaged, so be it. After all, you have been tirelessly inspecting the very region of your own ancestry—no one would blame you for not appearing…”

“How could you say so, Magistrate Cui? Since you intend to go, I too will gladly witness Gongsun’s famed sword-dance!”

In truth, Liu Zhao had no desire to lower himself by mingling with the common rabble at the marketplace. Yet Cui Weizhi’s words forced him to reconsider on the spot. In these days at Dengfeng, he had come to know Cui Weizhi as a wily and worldly figure—always respectful, always courteous, but a fox nonetheless. If Liu Zhao refused to go, who knew what excuse the man might devise to denounce him later? Magistrates elsewhere might lack influence at court, but the Cui clan of Qinghe was another matter entirely.

Thus, he accepted the invitation without hesitation. When he saw Cui Weizhi out, who seemed taken aback by his swift reply, Liu Zhao turned back into his chambers, grinding his teeth as he muttered, “Trying to outmaneuver me? Not a chance!”

Back in his room, having dismissed the servant girl sent by Cui Weizhi, Liu Zhao ordered his page to prepare writing materials. After a moment’s thought, he took up the brush and, with a flowing hand, swiftly composed a letter:

“Respectfully to Chancellor Yao: Your humble servant, by imperial command, inspects the locust calamity in the provinces. Now arrived at Dengfeng, I find a certain Gongsun Lady, skilled in sword-dance, captivating crowds in the marketplace. Though the locust threat still looms, the people, instead of striving to eradicate the pest, are lost in idle revelry…”

In the wavering lamplight, his face was cast in shadow, the thin lips pressed even tighter in a look of cold severity.

Meanwhile, in his own chambers, Cui Weizhi had yet to remove his outer robe. He had dismissed all others, keeping only Lady Wang at his side. “Please, my lady, assist me with paper and brush. I must write a letter home to Lady Qi of Yongfeng Lane in the Eastern Capital.” Seeing her puzzled, he added, “It is for Lady Qi to deliver to my fourth brother, Taizhi.”

Lady Wang immediately understood and fetched ink, brush, and paper. Holding the sheet steady with her left hand, she dipped the brush with her right and looked to her husband for his dictation.

“To my honored aunt, Lady Qi, from your nephew Weizhi, with deepest respect. Our Eleventh Son is now studying at the Lu School, making fine progress, which brings me great joy. However, Inspector of Locust Affairs Liu Zhao has passed through Dengfeng…”