Daming: Brother, there is no future for monks, let's rebel

My gaze fell directly on the middle section.

And soon, it fell to the last line.

—Military warehouse number.

Zhu Han saw those words clearly, and the corner of his mouth suddenly twitched slightly.

It looked like he smiled.

“Yi San…” he murmured.

The eunuch couldn't help but ask, "Your Highness, is there something wrong with this serial number?"

Zhu Han closed the folded document and gently placed it back on the table.

“The problem isn’t with the warehouse,” he said. “It’s with who made it break now.”

The eunuch didn't understand at first.

Zhu Han had already stood up and walked to the window.

A breeze swept through the courtyard, causing the shadows of the trees to sway gently.

"Go check," Zhu Han said. "Who was in charge of the inventory check and who reviewed it during last year's inventory of the military warehouse in the western suburbs?"

"Yes."

“Also,” Zhu Han paused, “this number contains all the silver disbursement records over the past ten years.”

The eunuch felt a chill run down his spine.

"Your Highness is suspicious—"

Zhu Han did not turn around, but simply said:

"It's not a doubt."

"It's finally revealed."

As night fell completely, the lights in the Ministry of War were turned on earlier than usual.

The officials on duty in the back courtyard had just changed shifts, and footsteps were sparse in the courtyard. Occasionally, people would talk in hushed tones, and then quickly disperse.

Inside the office, several oil lamps illuminated rows of cabinets, with dates and categories pasted on the wooden cabinets, all neatly arranged and showing no signs of abnormality.

Then, footsteps came from outside.

Not in a hurry, but steady.

The gatekeeper had just looked up when he saw the person approaching.

"Prince Han?" His voice trembled, and he quickly stood up and bowed. "Your Highness's arrival at the Ministry of War at night, is it because—"

Zhu Han raised his hand.

"No need to report it."

The clerk was taken aback: "But the rule is—"

Zhu Han glanced at him and said in a low voice, "I'll set the rules for tonight."

As soon as he finished speaking, the accompanying eunuch revealed his token.

The clerk's face turned pale, his Adam's apple bobbed, and he finally bowed his head and stepped back.

Zhou Jing'an, the Right Vice Minister of the Ministry of War, was having tea in the back hall.

He was in a bad mood today, and although his tea had gone mostly cold, he hadn't touched it.

“Yisan Military Warehouse…” he muttered to himself, then shook his head, as if denying something.

Just then, a voice outside suddenly announced something.

"Prince Han has arrived!"

The teacup in Zhou Jing'an's hand suddenly trembled, and tea splashed out.

He stood up almost immediately.

"Please come in quickly!"

Before he could finish speaking, the door was pushed open.

Zhu Han walked in.

He wore no cloak, nor did he have a large entourage; he only brought two eunuchs, as if he had just taken a casual stroll at night.

“Lord Zhou.” Zhu Han nodded.

Zhou Jing'an barely managed to compose himself and bowed, saying, "I was unaware of Your Highness's visit at night; I have failed to greet you properly."

"It's alright." Zhu Han looked around. "The Ministry of War is brighter at night than I expected."

Zhou Jing'an smiled and said, "I've been very busy lately and haven't dared to slack off."

Zhu Han did not respond.

He walked straight to the desk and tapped the surface with his hand.

Where are the old files?

Zhou Jing'an's heart tightened, but he maintained his tone: "Which category does Your Highness wish to investigate?"

"Disburse silver from the military granary," Zhu Han said, "to the western suburbs."

Zhou Jing'an was silent for a moment.

"That was a matter from last year, and as usual—"

“I know the rules,” Zhu Han interrupted him, “but I’m not following the rules tonight.”

The atmosphere in the room suddenly turned somber.

Zhou Jing'an took a deep breath and finally nodded: "Please follow me, Your Highness."

The door to the case room was opened.

Rows of wooden cabinets stood there, smelling of old paper and dust.

Zhou Jing'an personally retrieved the key and opened one of the cabinets.

"This is the silver disbursement record of the western suburban military warehouse over the past twenty years," he said.

Zhu Han approached and casually pulled out a book.

I didn't flip to the front.

Flip directly to the middle section.

"Who approved this renovation?" he asked, pointing to a page.

Zhou Jing'an glanced at it: "The Ministry of War will review and approve it, and the final approval will be given by the Ministry of Revenue."

“What I’m asking is,” Zhu Han looked up, “who started it.”

Zhou Jing'an's Adam's apple bobbed.

"...It was presented to us by our subordinates."

Zhu Han nodded and pulled out another book.

"And this year?"

"Too."

"That year?"

"..."

Zhu Han stopped what he was doing.

“Lord Zhou,” he said, “why don’t you just tell me directly which year it wasn’t you?”

Sweat was already visible on Zhou Jing'an's forehead.

He forced a smile and said, "Your Highness is too kind. Military granary affairs have always been coordinated by the Ministry of War; I was merely—"

“Just the Right Vice Minister,” Zhu Han finished for him.

He closed the file in his hand and gently placed it back in the cabinet.

"The Yisan military warehouse has been repaired five times in seventeen years," Zhu Han said calmly. "Each time it was repaired, each time there was a report of danger, and each time funds were allocated."

“But I checked the military supply dispatch,” he looked up, “there it has never stopped.”

Zhou Jing'an's expression finally changed.

"Your Highness, perhaps there's something to this—"

"Perhaps what?" Zhu Han stepped forward. "Perhaps the warehouse broke down on its own, and then it fixed itself?"

Zhou Jing'an took half a step back.

"If Your Highness has any doubts, this humble official is willing—"

"I'm not here to ask you if you want to," Zhu Han said in a low voice. "I'm here to tell you—"

He reached out and pulled out the bottom old file.

The cover was yellowed, but the seal was newer than the others.

"You left the wrong thing."

Zhou Jing'an's pupils contracted sharply.

Zhu Han turned to that page.

Under the lamp, the handwriting was clear.

Military warehouse number: B3.

“This last stroke,” Zhu Han pointed to the number, “you changed it very carefully.”

“But you’ve forgotten,” he looked up at Zhou Jing’an, “seventeen years ago, we used a different counting system.”

Zhou Jing'an's hand slowly clenched.

The room was eerily quiet.

After a long silence, he whispered, "Your Highness, is an answer absolutely necessary tonight?"

Zhu Han looked at him.

“No,” he said. “I want you to remember this.”

"Remember what?"

“Remember,” Zhu Han said in a very soft voice, “I saw it tonight.”

He closed the file and turned to leave.

Zhu Han paused when he reached the door.

"Master Zhou."

Zhou Jing'an looked up.

“From now on,” Zhu Han said, “every time you move, you’ll reveal more than just Yi San.”

It was already very late when Zhu Han left the Ministry of War.

The sound of water clocks came from the direction of the palace, one after another, as if keeping time for the entire capital.

The door to the Ministry of War's rear office closed behind him with a muffled thud.

The accompanying eunuch whispered, "Your Highness, shouldn't we have someone keep an eye on Zhou Jing'an?"

Zhu Han got into the car and simply replied, "No need."

"It can move on its own."

The carriage slowly drove away.

But in the back office of the Ministry of War, the oil lamp remained lit all night.

Zhou Jing'an stood in the office for a long time without moving.

He only slowly sat down when his legs started to feel numb.

The old file, which had been opened, was still lying open on the table.

B three.

Those two words, under the light, seemed to be etched into the paper.

"Seventeen years ago..." he murmured softly.

He suddenly stood up, strode to the small cabinet on the inside, and pulled open the bottom shelf.

Inside were several letters that were sealed very tightly.

He pulled out one of the letters, his fingertips trembling slightly.

The letter paper is old, but the ink is still clear.

—"Repairs as usual, accounts as before."

The signature was an inconspicuous personal seal.

Zhou Jing'an stared at the mark, his throat tightening.

"Someone come here," he suddenly whispered.

Someone immediately responded from outside the door.

"Go and summon the manager of the Yisan Military Warehouse in the western suburbs tonight."

The visitor was taken aback: "Now?"

"Now," Zhou Jing'an said in a very low voice, "quietly."

The man didn't dare ask any more questions and hurriedly retreated.

Western suburbs.

The night watch drum outside the Yisan military warehouse had just sounded the first watch.

The warehouse door was tightly closed, and from the outside it looked no different than usual.

But the lights were on inside the warehouse.

Manager Chen Fu was sitting at the table doing accounts. He was nearly fifty years old and had been the manager of the military warehouse for more than ten years. He was always cautious and rarely spoke.

But tonight, he felt uneasy.

The ledgers were examined repeatedly, but the numbers just wouldn't add up.

“That’s strange…” he muttered to himself.

Just then, footsteps could be heard outside.

It was very light, but there was more than one person.

Chen Fu suddenly looked up.

"Who?"

The door was pushed open.

It wasn't a night patrolman who came in.

Instead, it was someone from the Ministry of War.

He recognized the man in the lead.

Attendants in the residence of the Right Vice Minister of the Ministry of War.

"Manager Chen," the man smiled, "Lord Zhou requests your presence."

Chen Fu's face turned pale instantly.

"So late?"

"It's urgent."

Chen Fu opened his mouth as if to ask something, but ultimately didn't.

He bent down to tidy his clothes and hat, then went out the door.

Before leaving, he glanced back at the warehouse.

The carriage sped along the night road.

Chen Fu's hands, resting on his knees, were trembling.

"Is this... about renovations?" he asked tentatively.

The attendant did not answer.

Chen Fu felt even heavier inside.

When the carriage stopped, he realized that it was not the main gate of the Ministry of War.

It was the back gate of Zhou Jing'an's residence.

Chen Fu's legs went weak, and he almost couldn't stand up.

When Zhou Jing'an saw him, he didn't say much.

They just told people to close the door.

"Chen Fu," Zhou Jing'an began, "how long have you been in Class B3?"

"Sir, thirteen years."

“Thirteen years.” Zhou Jing’an nodded. “Then you should know which accounts you can see and which you can’t.”

Chen Fu's forehead immediately broke out in sweat.

"This lowly man...only manages the warehouse, he never—"

"That's enough," Zhou Jing'an interrupted him. "I'm not asking you whether you did it or not."

He pushed the old file in front of Chen Fu.

"I'll only ask you one question."

Chen Fu's breathing became erratic as he read the contents of that page.

"This repair money," Zhou Jing'an stared at him, "was it really used in the warehouse?"

The room was eerily quiet.

Chen Fu's throat moved.

After a long while, he whispered, "...I used a portion."

"How many?"

"Less than 30%."

Zhou Jing'an closed his eyes.

"What about the rest?"

Chen Fu remained silent.

Zhou Jing'an suddenly smiled.

That smile, however, was chillingly cold.

"Chen Fu," he said, "do you know that Prince Han went to the Ministry of War tonight?"

Chen Fu suddenly looked up.

“He translated it,” Zhou Jing’an said slowly, “It’s Yi San.”

Chen Fu's face turned ashen in an instant.

“Now,” Zhou Jingan stood up, “you have two choices.”

"First, go back and pretend nothing happened."

"second--"

He paused.

"Clean up the old stuff in the warehouse for me."

Chen Fu gripped the hem of his clothes tightly with his hands.

What if we don't do it?

Zhou Jing'an looked at him, his voice very soft.

"Then Prince Han will come to see you personally soon."

This sentence is like a knife.

Chen Fu lowered his head.

"...I understand."

At the same time that Chen Fu was being sent back to the western suburbs.

In Prince Han's Mansion.

Zhu Hanzheng listened to the eunuch's report.

"Zhou Jing'an's men left the Ministry of War overnight and headed to the western suburbs."

Zhu Han nodded.

"Faster than I expected."

"Your Highness, would you like to—"

Zhu Han raised his hand.

"Not urgent."

He walked to the desk, picked up a pen, and wrote a name on the paper.

Chen Fu.

Then, another line of text was added next to it.

After midnight at Yisan Military Granary.

Zhu Han put down his pen, his eyes calm.

“Go to Shuntian Prefecture,” he said. “Have them increase patrols in the western suburbs tonight.”

The eunuch was taken aback: "In that case, what about Zhou Jing'an—"

Zhu Han said calmly:

"I want him to move."

"And we need him—"

He looked up at the night sky.

"Wrong movement."

Just after midnight, a wind picked up in the western suburbs.

The wind was light but cold, causing the torches outside the warehouse to flicker.

Chen Fu stood at the entrance of the Yisan military warehouse, his knuckles white as he gripped the key in his hand.

Three men stood behind him, all seasoned veterans of the warehouse, usually keeping their heads down and rarely asking questions. But tonight, none of them dared to utter a sound.

"Listen carefully," Chen Fu said in a low voice. "Only the innermost room will be touched. All old accounts and records will be removed."

Someone swallowed hard: "Manager Chen, should we... wait a little longer?"

Chen Fu suddenly turned around.

"Wait?" His voice tightened. "Wait until Prince Han comes in person?"

The man immediately shut up.

The warehouse door was pushed open.

A musty smell mixed with the smell of sawdust hit me.

At the innermost part of the Yisan military warehouse, there was a side storeroom that was not recorded in the books. The door was thicker than the others, but the seal had been changed more than once.

Turn on the lights.

Chen Fu went inside and stood in front of a row of wooden crates.

The box had no serial number.

But he knew what was inside.

"Hurry," he said.

The wooden box was pried open, revealing stacks of old booklets, some with brittle edges and others still bearing traces of water from years past.

Someone whispered, "So much... burn it all?"

"Burn it all." Chen Fu said through gritted teeth.

The brazier was carried in.

When the first ledger was thrown in, flames suddenly shot up.

Just then—

Suddenly, hurried footsteps came from outside.

"Who?!"

Chen Fu's heart skipped a beat.

The next instant, torches lit up outside the warehouse, and a shout pierced the night:
"Shuntian Prefecture Night Patrol! Open the gates for inspection!"

The warehouse was deathly silent.

Chen Fu stood frozen in place, his mind blank.

"How could this be..." someone exclaimed.

No one answered.

"I'll say it again—open the door!"

The fire in the brazier was burning brightly.

Only half of the ledgers were burned.

Chen Fu snapped back to reality, his voice trembling: "Turn off the heat! Turn off the heat now!"

But it was too late.

The warehouse door was kicked open.

A cold wind rushed in, whipping up sparks that flew straight towards the wooden beams.

When the fire started, no one immediately realized something was wrong.

First, a wisp of gray smoke rose from the roof of the warehouse, which was quickly dispersed by the night wind. The soldiers on patrol thought that some brazier had been forgotten to be extinguished and were about to curse when, in the next instant, flames suddenly shot out from the cracks in the beams.

"Fire!"

That shout seemed to pierce the darkness of the night.

Then, another sound.

"Fire has broken out at the Yisan Military Depot!"

The torches were suddenly raised high, and the light instantly merged into one. The scattered figures of night patrollers outside the warehouse area instantly surged in one direction.

"Water! Quick, fetch water!"

"Don't run around! Seal off the east side!"

"Is anyone still in the warehouse?!"

Shouts, footsteps, and the crackling of wooden beams being burned by the fire mingled together, creating a buzzing sound in people's ears.

The people from Shuntian Prefecture were the first to rush into the warehouse area.

The official had barely dismounted and his boots hadn't even settled when a wave of heat forced him to take a half-step back.

"How did the fire start?!" He grabbed the night patrol leader next to him.

The man's face was covered in soot, and his voice was hoarse: "This humble servant knew nothing! Just after midnight, I saw fire leaping out from inside!" (End of Chapter)