Transmigrated into a Grandpa, Embracing the Laid-Back Life

But just the next day, when he walked out of his room, the servants in the manor noticed that their always gentle and refined Vice Minister had sprouted a few strands of glaring white hair at his temples overnight.

When he ”happened to run into” the Yongchang Marquis’s Heir, who had come to the Ministry of War on business, at the entrance of the Ministry of Revenue,

Xu Qing even took the initiative to step forward, his face full of smiles, bowing deeply and repeatedly apologizing for his ”runaway carriage that had startled the neighbors” a few days prior.

The Yongchang Marquis’s Heir looked at this middle-aged scholar bowing and scraping, as humble as a dog before him. A cold, contemptuous smirk curled at the corner of his mouth as he patted Xu Qing on the shoulder and said in a ”kind” tone:

”Lord Xu is too serious. A young man like you should walk with a steadier step.”

Xu Qing, after a thousand thanks, withdrew.

Returning to his own office, piled high with archives, he closed the door. The smile on his face vanished instantly.

He walked to the window and gazed at the gray, overcast sky outside. In his eyes, there was no fear, no anger—only a calm as placid as dead water.

”Not enough.”

He spoke softly to the window, in a voice only he could hear.”Far from enough.”

Fear was a potent drug. It could shatter a man’s will, but it could also forge his resolve into unbreakable steel.

The threat from the Yongchang Marquis Manor hadn’t made Xu Qing retreat. Instead, it made him realize that trying to topple that deeply-rooted towering tree with his own strength alone was nothing short of an ant trying to shake a tree.

He needed allies.

In the fourth year, he began his gambit.

It was a process far more dangerous and demanding of patience than secretly investigating the ledgers. He dared not trust anyone easily, because in this capital, behind every smiling face lurked hidden loyalties and interests.

He turned his gaze toward the censors and remonstrating officials in the court who, like him, came from upright backgrounds and harbored resentment toward the Yongchang Marquis Manor’s arrogance, yet dared not speak out.

These people, for the most part, held little real power, but they represented the last vestiges of backbone in the imperial court.

Xu Qing made no direct contact with them. They dared not appear near his residence, and he dared not step through the doors of those censors. The Yongchang Marquis Manor’s informants were like an invisible, inescapable net covering the entire capital. Any abnormal move could invite utter annihilation.

Their communication relied only on the most primitive and secret method—coded letters.

The letters never passed through the official courier system. Instead, they were delivered by privately-raised carrier pigeons with spotless backgrounds, paid for handsomely by Xu Qing. The content of the letters never touched upon any sensitive words.

Every single letter was encrypted using the ”code” that Su Ming had taught him half-jokingly back at the County School.

It was a unique cipher system based on obscure vocabulary from a minority tribe in *Records of Southern Border Wonders*, combined with the changing patterns of agricultural seasons in *Essential Farming Techniques*.

For example, ”On the third day after the Waking of Insects, a red-tailed butterfly flies south” might mean ”The third batch of military equipment from the Yongchang Marquis Manor is about to be transported south.”

And ”Before the Frost’s Descent, the granary is full” might be a query: ”Is the evidence to overthrow the Marquis Manor sufficiently gathered?”

Besides him and Su Ming, no third person in this world could ever decipher this encryption.

Each time he transmitted information, it was like dancing on the edge of a blade. Xu Qing could even feel the Yongchang Marquis’s hidden eyes constantly scrutinizing him. He dared not make the slightest outcry or move, because he knew that all his efforts so far were merely castles in the air. The slightest breeze could topple everything, plunging him beyond all redemption.

He allied himself with three censors and one Supervising Secretary. They formed an invisible alliance, like moles diligently digging tunnels in the shadows, gradually funneling all their seemingly unrelated clues to Xu Qing.

The Ministry of Revenue’s ledgers were the net.

The cases of suffering among the common people cited in the censors’ impeachment memorials were the needles.

The illicit memorials related to the Yongchang Marquis Manor that the Supervising Secretary had blocked and rejected were the thread.

Xu Qing, stitch by stitch, wove these needles and threads across that vast web of interests.

He told himself, and he told his unseen allies: This chess game must be played long enough that everyone forgets our existence.

...

The fifth year. The winds from the Northern Frontier finally brought news of war.

On a snowy, windy night, a hundred thousand iron cavalry from the Northern Barbarians brazenly crossed over the Heaven’s Moat Pass and surged like a tide into the three northern prefectures of Great Xing.

The flames of war spread with the force of a prairie fire.

The entire Great Xing Dynasty court was shaken. The war faction and the peace faction argued fiercely, while urgent military reports flew into the capital like snowflakes.

In the midst of this chaos, an inconspicuous appointment document from the Ministry of Personnel was quietly issued.

Xu Qing, the senior clerk of the Ministry of Revenue, was promoted to Left Vice Minister of Revenue, ranked at the third tier, for his ”diligence and restraint, and notable achievements in managing grain and funds.”

He had finally stood at a position a hair’s breadth away from the very center of power.

He knew the opportunity had come.

War was like a giant, greedy meat grinder. It would devour countless lives, but it would also mercilessly expose the corruption and darkness usually hidden in plain sight to the sunlight.

If the Yongchang Marquis Manor wanted to maintain its absolute control over the military, it had to achieve brilliant victories in this war. And to win battles, it needed astronomical amounts of military funds, grain, and equipment.

This massive gap could not be filled by the already-drained reserves of the national treasury alone.

The Yongchang Marquis would inevitably have to tap into his hidden, shady money reserves. And every flow of this money would leave an indelible mark on the Ministry of Revenue’s ledgers.

War would force the web of lies and embezzlement that the Yongchang Marquis had woven to show its true colors under excessive strain.

But there was not a shred of joy in Xu Qing’s heart.

He sat in his study, looking at the battle reports sent back from the front.

”North Peace City has fallen. Defender General Wang fought to the death. The entire garrison of three thousand was annihilated.”

”Iron Wall Pass has been lost. One hundred thousand refugees are fleeing south. The land is littered with the starving dead.”

He looked at the cold, ever-rising casualty numbers, at the names of generals both familiar and unfamiliar being crossed out one by one, and his heart was a whirlwind of mixed emotions.

He knew this war would push Great Xing to the brink. He knew that countless lives, like that fourteen-year-old boy from Wind Crossing Ferry, would be forcibly dragged onto the battlefield and turned into cold corpses.

And he was using this very disaster to complete his revenge and fulfill that silent promise to his dear friend.

Was this right? Or was this wrong?

Xu Qing didn’t know.

He only knew that he had walked this path for five years, and there was no turning back.

He set down the military report, slowly stood up, and walked back to the ”Self-Examination in Solitude” scroll.

During these five years, he had returned to that dusk at Xizhi Gate countless times in his dreams. He had seen Su Ming’s straight spine and the look in his eyes as they gazed northward countless times.

That look had sustained him through these long and lonely five years.

Now, the Northern Frontier was ablaze with war.

A powerful, inexplicable premonition grew wildly in his heart.

He would come back.

Su Ming would definitely walk back from that land of blood and fire.

This chess game that he had played for five years had finally... awaited its other player.

Xu Qing stood rooted to the spot. His body began to tremble slightly, overwhelmed by the extremes of anticipation and suppression.

He slowly closed his eyes. He could almost hear the familiar footsteps from the distant north, coming closer, step by step, towards the capital, towards the heart of this vortex.

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