IDWBE -Chapter 94 Not Wanting to Be a Good Person

Lin Yi let out a cold snort. “Since you know everything, then tell this prince—why did Shan Qi come to Sanhe?”

This had long been his greatest doubt.

After all, Shan Qi was far too obedient—so obedient it didn’t resemble the integrity a Censor ought to possess.

He had no choice but to grow suspicious.

Qi Peng replied, “Taiping Mountain saved Prince Yong. The Cao clan’s sons all serve under Prince Yong’s banner. The Shan family could no longer remain neutral.”

Lin Yi said, “Unless Prince Yong inherits the throne, what right does he have to move against the Shan family?”

Prince Yong’s power was indeed formidable, but the Shan family boasted four juren in one generation and nine jinshi from a single alley. Whether in court or in the provinces, their influence was deeply entrenched.

Not something a single imperial prince could casually uproot.

Qi Peng tilted his head. “Why not?”

Lin Yi said, “The Crown Prince has held the position for thirty years. Even if my imperial father were to replace the heir, it likely wouldn’t be Prince Yong’s turn.”

After all, from the Second Prince and Third Prince to himself, none had been favored by their imperial father.

When the Second Prince died, the Emperor merely sighed.

When the Third Prince was gravely wounded in battle in Yongzhou, the Emperor did not even take action—he simply said, “Do your utmost to treat him.”

No different from a stray cat or dog. If they died, they died.

Qi Peng boldly picked up the teacup on the table, took a slow sip, and smiled. “Your Highness, throughout history, how many Crown Princes have truly ascended the throne?”

Lin Yi frowned, recalling the history of this world, then thinking of Chinese history from his previous life. He sighed and shook his head.

“Not many. You mean Prince Yong has a strong chance?”

The histories of both worlds were strikingly similar.

Most Crown Princes not only failed to ascend the throne—they lost their lives as well.

Qi Peng smiled. “Prince Yong commands over a hundred thousand troops and enjoys great favor among the generals at court—especially Your Highness’s maternal uncle, who is on very close terms with him. Thus, at present, Prince Yong appears to have the greatest likelihood.”

Lin Yi frowned. “Getting along well with my uncle? I never noticed that.”

Qi Peng said, “Your Highness need not be suspicious. In every battle against Wadan, Prince Yong personally leads the charge. It is said he once took an arrow in place of General Yuan.”

“That, I didn’t know.” Lin Yi glanced at him. “How did you learn of it?”

Qi Peng set down his cup and cupped his hands. “Your Highness, these are open secrets at court.”

Lin Yi continued, “Taiping Mountain may have earned Prince Yong’s favor, but the Shan family had no need to come flatter me. What about the Fourth Prince, Prince Jin? The Seventh Prince, Prince Nanling? Or Prince Yong’an? Why come here to join the fun?”

Qi Peng shook his head. “Your Highness may have forgotten—Shan Qi’s younger brother, Shan Kuo, was framed by Prince Jin’s faction and beheaded. The Seventh Prince’s maternal grandfather, Mei Jingzhi, is at odds with Shan Jin of the Shan family. Both are military men and have long been irreconcilable. As for the Twelfth Prince, he is greatly favored by His Majesty. Minister Shan once impeached him for forming private factions. The Twelfth Prince would love nothing more than to eliminate him.”

Lin Yi said irritably, “He impeached me too. Isn’t he afraid I’ll eliminate him?”

Qi Peng lowered his head. After a long silence, he looked up and said, “Your Highness, you are a good man.”

“…”

Lin Yi froze again.

Damn it—why do so many people keep handing him the ‘good guy’ card?

What’s wrong with being a good person?

Damn it—I really don’t want to be a good person!

Grinding his teeth, he said, “What about the others? Why must they hang themselves on this single tree—me?”

Qi Peng replied, “Your Highness, the Shan family had no choice. Prince Yong’s power is overwhelming. Even I, a commoner, understand that. The court officials certainly do, and so does His Majesty. The political situation grows ever more unpredictable. Minister Shan merely seized an opportunity to leave the center of conflict. Moreover, Sanhe is close to Nanzhou. It is also their last retreat.”

“How do you know everything?”

Lin Yi’s gaze turned increasingly unfriendly.

Qi Peng remained unconcerned. “Your Highness, I am a merchant. My agents are spread throughout Liang and beyond the frontier. Naturally, I occasionally hear much news.”

Lin Yi growled, “If you don’t start telling the truth, I’ll have you killed. Believe it or not?”

Qi Peng still smiled. “This crippled body of mine is of little use in this world. Your Highness may do as you please.”

With that boiled-pig-not-afraid-of-scalding-water attitude, Lin Yi found himself helpless.

Finally, he sighed. “Then tell me—have you planted any spies by my side?”

Qi Peng replied, “The Chief Steward Hong at Your Highness’s side is simply too formidable. I have never found an opportunity.”

“Really none?”

Lin Yi stared at him.

“None.”

Qi Peng shook his head firmly.

“Fine.” Lin Yi rarely trusted someone so inexplicably, yet before him he sensed a strange sincerity. “Let’s talk about living expenses. You can’t very well eat and drink at Prince He’s residence for free, can you?”

Qi Peng paused, then smiled bitterly. “Naturally.”

Lin Yi said, “Then five thousand taels of silver per month. Not much, right?”

“Ah…” Qi Peng sighed. “Your Highness, I am only one person. I cannot possibly eat that much.”

“The fish you eat will be personally caught by me. The seafood will be hauled in by large ships,” Lin Yi argued confidently. “Isn’t it worth that much?”

Qi Peng clasped his hands helplessly. “I shall follow Your Highness’s arrangements.”

“Good.” Lin Yi said leisurely, “Xiao Yingzi.”

“Your Highness.”

Hong Ying appeared abruptly before Lin Yi.

“Arrange a large room for Brother Qi. Provide good food and drink daily—no neglect. And file down that doorstep. Otherwise, it won’t be convenient for Brother Qi to go in and out.”

This was what Lin Yi appreciated most about Hong Ying—there was no need to shout. A slight mutter, and the man would appear like a ghost.

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

Qi Peng pushed his wooden wheelchair out. When he encountered the steps, Sun Yi and Bao Kui carefully helped lift him down.

The newly built Provincial Administration Office stood on the southern bank of the West River.

A grand four-courtyard estate—impressively spacious.

Yet the locals did not like it.

To enter, one had to report first?

What kind of rule was that?

Unlike the old Commander’s Office, where they could come and go as they pleased.

They felt wronged.

But they had no choice.

Building houses required property deeds. Reclaiming land required land certificates. All had to be handled there in person.

Especially the newly arrived refugees—they valued such documents immensely. Without them, they could not sleep at night.

And now, grain taxes were to be collected!

Since the dawn of time, when had Sanhe ever paid grain taxes?

The locals were reluctant to give any. Yet the refugees paid enthusiastically!

This made the native-born residents uneasy.

Should they really refuse?

But the baojia heads, accompanied by the “blackskins,” had notified each household one by one.

Refusal did not seem an option.

In the end, many still paid.

Fortunately, the amount was small.

According to the refugees, compared to Yuezhou and Nanzhou—where each mu was taxed eight sheng, five he, and five ladles, plus corvée labor, surtaxes, and a thirty-to-one levy—

Sanhe’s grain tax was practically negligible.