A number of common folk had followed them all the way, watching Fang Zichen's entourage enter the courtyard house before finally murmuring among themselves.
"So this really is the new prefect sent from above."
Someone gave a heavy sigh. "Now our Hezhou is truly doomed."
The others nearby said nothing.
Fang Zichen's procession was far too grand—several carts full of goods, so long that when they passed through the streets, the front could not be seen from the back. And so many guards, all on horseback—he would have no way to fund such a large entourage without resorting to corruption. The previous prefect hadn't arrived with nearly this many men—only a dozen guards or so—and yet he had still been notoriously greedy.
Moreover, that prefect looked like he hadn't even come of age—a mere greenhorn. There was no telling what he could possibly accomplish.
Probably some noble son from the capital here to pad his political record.
Why did the Emperor always send such people to Hezhou? Did he have any regard for their common folk?
They all sighed in despair, their eyes blazing like fire as they glared at the government gate, as if they wanted to charge in and devour Fang Zichen alive.
That evening, they had a simple meal. They didn't bother with anything else for now and went straight to rest. After two months of travel fatigue, they were utterly exhausted.
Finally having arrived, they could at last sleep a sound and steady night.
The next day, before dawn, while the room was still dark, Fang Zichen was shaken awake by Zhao Ger.
He was groggy. "What's wrong? Thirsty? I'll get you some water."
"You should get up and go to work," Zhao Ger said.
"Huh? What work?"
"You're the prefect—you have to go on duty."
Fang Zichen woke up a little and laughed outright. "I'm the boss now. The boss says—no morning duty."
Xia Jinghong was right: once a person got full of themselves, they started getting lazy.
Zhao Ger threw back the covers. "No, get up. You can't neglect your duties."
"I can go in the afternoon just the same! I just got here—I'm not used to the place yet and desperately need rest. Be a dear and cover me back up." Fang Zichen closed his eyes, looking perfectly at peace.
"Are you going or not?" Zhao Ger asked again.
Fang Zichen squinted at him. "The house isn't fully settled yet. Let me stay home and help you for two days."
Zhao Ger already knew his habits well. This man was considerate—unlike other men, he was willing to do housework—but he wasn't very good at it. Back in the village, when asked to wipe down the cupboard, he'd go to the Liu family's vegetable patch to pick some greens, only to come back and find Fang Zichen and Guaizai playing merrily in the yard. When Zhao Ger checked the kitchen, the cupboard was exactly as it had been before. Now with Dou Ger and the others around, they had enough help—there was no need for him. It was just an excuse to sleep in.
Zhao Ger didn't waste words. He stepped over Fang Zichen, got down from the bed, pulled out the wooden stick he'd placed under it yesterday, and swung it twice near Fang Zichen's ear. The stick sliced through the air with a sharp whoosh, whoosh. A chill ran down Fang Zichen's back, and he scrambled to his feet in a hurry.
In the capital, with superiors above him, he hadn't dared to slack off or be late, getting up in the dark every single morning. Now that he was in Hezhou, he still had someone above him—curse his decision to marry so young!
That founding emperor of Da Xia must have been a slave-driver, demanding people start work at seven in the morning—utterly inhuman.
He had no idea where the man was buried. If he did, he'd definitely go blow up his grave mound.
---
The deputy prefect arrived at the government office today, already prepared to wait until noon. But he had barely sat down when his attendant rushed in from outside and said that the prefect had arrived.
The office wasn't far from the residence where they were staying. Fang Zichen was still gnawing on a steamed bun when he casually asked, "So early? Something up?"
The deputy prefect hurriedly handed over a report and said, "My lord, Anhe County just sent word that... that the day before yesterday..."
Fang Zichen stuck the bun in his mouth, took the report, and scanned it quickly. More people had starved to death in Anhe County the day before yesterday.
This was his very first day on the job, and not only had these subordinates not bothered to come to Hezhou to welcome their new boss with gifts, but they had the nerve to dump this bad luck on him.
He slammed his fist on the table. "Who's the county magistrate of Anhe? How did he let this happen? Go—take some men and drag him back here. I'll beat him to death myself."
The deputy prefect trembled. "R-Reporting, my lord... the magistrate position in Anhe County is currently vacant."
Fang Zichen's voice shot up. "What?"
The deputy prefect flinched again and answered quietly: "The previous magistrate was investigated and removed for corruption and abuse of power."
No replacement had been found yet, and since the promotion and transfer of county magistrates in Da Xia were beyond the deputy prefect's authority—only the prefect had that power—he hadn't dared to act on his own during the interim period.
What a mess.
Fang Zichen rubbed his face. He was just thinking this wasn't a big deal—just find someone to fill the spot—when the deputy prefect hesitated and added that in the south, he and the thirteen county magistrates under him hadn't received their monthly salaries for over half a year. Their households were barely scraping by.
Their pay had likely been embezzled by the previous prefect. Fang Zichen patted the deputy prefect on the shoulder, expressing sympathy and helplessness.
What did that mean?
The deputy prefect grew anxious. "My lord, the year before last, I submitted a memorial to His Majesty, and he said our salaries would be brought by the new prefect... My lord, I have elderly parents and young children at home. We truly can't make ends meet. I beg you, please be merciful and lend a hand!"
Now it was Fang Zichen's turn to panic.
What does he mean, "brought by me"?
Zhang Quan, standing nearby, timely pulled a letter from his pocket and handed it to Fang Zichen. It was written by Xia Jinghong.
Zhao Ger had just finished breakfast and was about to arrange for someone to find craftsmen to repair the outer courtyard—the Qin family soldiers couldn't keep sleeping on wooden planks forever. He wanted to take the blueprints Fang Zichen had drawn and have some bunk beds made. But then Fang Zichen came back.
He looked furious, stomping heavily with every step, eyes wide with rage, the whites of his eyes had turned bloodshot, nostrils flared as he panted heavily, cursing all the way from the outer courtyard to the inner one.
"That damned bastard! He played me for a fool!"
"Damn it! I hope he eats a cockroach with his meal, gets constipated on the toilet, pees on his own shoes, and chokes to death drinking water!"
Zhao Ger blinked. Seeing that Fang Zichen seemed about to lose his breath from anger, he quickly went over and rubbed his back.
"Husband, what's wrong? Who upset you?"
Guaizai stopped eating his bun and immediately crowded over, fists already clenched, as if ready to charge out and beat someone up to avenge his father the moment Fang Zichen said the word. Even Xiao Feng looked over nervously.
"It's Xia Jinghong," Fang Zichen said through clenched teeth.
Zhao Ger asked, "What did His Majesty do?"
"He tricked me!" Fang Zichen looked like he was about to cry. "Here I am, a young lad in the prime of his life, and he sold me out while I was happily counting the money for him. Damn it!"
Seeing Zhao Ger still didn't understand, Fang Zichen explained: "Earlier he gave me a box of banknotes—a hundred thousand in there. But... but—"
He couldn't finish the sentence, his vision swimming. He handed Xia Jinghong's letter to Zhao Ger to read for himself.
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