The Child Emperor

Chapter 94: Lacking Money

Chapter 94: Lacking Money

The weather was hot and stuffy, and after finishing a set of punches, it was inevitable for the whole body to break into a sweat. Han Ruzi and the Dus sat in the pavilion, while Zhang Youcai stood nearby. The four of them ate fresh fruits and melons, chatting and laughing, feeling extremely content.

Eunuch He Yi who was put in charge of the manor’s accounts approached from a distance and entered the pavilion to pay his respects to the Weary Marquis. He smiled and said, “Is the master free now?”

Han Ruzi hurriedly invited He Yi to sit down and offered him some melon, saying, “Look at my memory. You’ve wanted to talk to me several times, and I’ve completely forgotten.”

“The master is busy, it’s understandable.”

Indeed, the Weary Marquis was very busy. He went to the College of National Scions every day to mark his attendance, and also had to practice martial arts. The rest of his time was spent wandering around buying whatever he liked.

“I’m free now. If you have something to say, please go ahead.”

“Uh…” He Yi hesitated.

Master Du observed He Yi’s words and demeanor, then got up and said, “I’ll go to my room for a nap. Chuanyun, come with me.”

Du Chuanyun was enjoying himself and made a reluctant noise, not wanting to get up.

Han Ruzi pulled Master Du back to his seat and said, “Don’t be in a hurry. I’d like to continue listening to you tell me more of the pugilist world’s anecdotes. We’re all family here, no need to avoid any topics. Old He, go ahead and speak freely.”

Du Motian stayed behind, and Du Chuanyun continued munching on melon. Eunuch He Yi smiled. Whether there were outsiders present or not, he had to talk to the master; that was his duty as the manager of accounts.

“Well… Master, in our… manor, there seems to be a bit of a…”

“Shortage of something? I’ll go buy it.”

He Yi shook his head with a smile. “There’s more than enough of everything in the manor; we’re just lacking one thing.”

“What is it?”

“Money.”

“Money?” Han Ruzi laughed, then turned to Du Motian. “Even in a noble household, there are times when money is tight.”

Du Motian smiled without saying a word, and Du Chuanyun wiped his mouth. “It’s not a big deal. I’ve heard that even emperors have tight budgets sometimes.”

In the Weary Marquis Manor, the word “emperor” was a taboo one, and only Du Chuanyun dared to use it. Not because he was bolder than the rest but because he had long forgotten that the Weary Marquis had once been an emperor.

He Yi chuckled awkwardly. “Well, it’s just that the manor is running a bit short; expenses are exceeding income.”

“How is that possible?” Han Ruzi’s smile disappeared. He was genuinely surprised. “Don’t I get an annual stipend of several thousand households? The Bureau of Imperial Clan Affairs also gives regular rewards, and there are only about a hundred people in the manor. It shouldn’t be used up so quickly, right?”

He Yi scratched his head. “The situation is a bit different from what the master thinks.”

“Explain.”

He Yi cleared his throat. “The income of the marquis’s manor is indeed substantial, but the expenses are also considerable. Essentially, thirty to forty percent of it is used for offerings for ancestral rituals, which occur several times a year…”

“So many times?”

“The master’s status is equivalent to that of a prince, so during ancestral offerings, the standards are the same as those for princes. However, other princes have their own territories and incomes, which are much higher than ours.”

“I see. That still leaves us with sixty to seventy percent, which is quite a lot.”

“And another thirty to forty percent of the income is used for social interactions among the imperial relatives.”

“Hmm, I haven’t had any interactions with other nobles.”

“That’s right. But even if you don’t interact with them, you need to exchange gifts. It’s a common practice. For example, last month, the Heir of Jinan had a grand wedding, and we sent ten pounds of gold, ten pieces of exquisite silk, and twenty pairs of precious jade…”

“Why haven’t I heard about this?”

“I placed the gift list on the master’s desk, and the master marked it as ‘read.'”

“Oh, maybe I didn’t read it closely. Can’t we just not give gifts? I don’t even know who Prince Jinan is, let alone his heir.”

He Yi scratched his head again. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. It’s a rule established by the Bureau of Imperial Clan Affairs. Each case has its precedents, and deviations are not allowed.”

Han Ruzi also scratched his head. “Well, then I’ll buy fewer things in the future.”

“The manor already has plenty of things, and the master really doesn’t need to buy more. But that won’t save much. It would be best if we could have a few weddings or funerals… Oops, I misspoke, look at my loose tongue, I should… I should…”[1]

“Your punishment is no alcohol for a day,” Han Ruzi chuckled and tapped the stone table twice. “I understand now; I’ll take care of the money matter. You just manage the accounts.”

“That’s good, Master. You’re busy, so I won’t disturb you anymore,” He Yi took his leave.

Zhang Youcai, chewing on melon, commented, “It turns out even nobles like the marquis have difficulties. So many social interactions, and you can’t refuse them. The key is, we’re only giving but not receiving. No wonder our expenses exceed our income.”

“Not all nobles are in such a tight spot. Other families either have territories or government positions, so they have ways to make money,” Han Ruzi understood well that the Weary Marquis, despite his noble title, was less affluent than an ordinary marquis.

“What can we do? Should we buy land or lend money?” Zhang Youcai didn’t forget to eat his fruits, competing with Du Chuanyun.

“Ah, forget about it. Things will work themselves out. We won’t starve anyway.”

Du Chuanyun finished eating, let out a burp, and wiped his hands, covered in juice, on his clothes. “You’re so poor, yet you keep giving us rewards. You’re really generous. We still have over ten taels of gold and several dozen taels of silver left. Grandpa, should we return it to the Weary Marquis?”

Du Motian chuckled and scolded, “That bit of gold and silver isn’t even enough for the manor to make a single proper gift.”

Zhang Youcai was still nibbling on his melon. “The Master has given you quite a few rewards, but I haven’t seen you bring back anything. How come you have so little left?”

“In the pugilist world, maintaining relationships matter even more. Everyone is like a brother. If you have money, of course, you would spend it together. Are we supposed to save it up and expect money to grow offsprings?” Du Chuanyun was very disdainful; in his eyes, accumulating wealth was a shameful act.

Han Ruzi didn’t like discussing money either. He waved his hand. “Let’s not talk about these depressing matters. Master Du, there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you. If I had believed Lin Kunshan back then and gone to the Subtle Fragrance Garden, what would have happened next?”

“That’s hard to say. Deceptions come in countless forms, and even those who often travel the pugilist world make misjudgments at times…”

“What’s there to misjudge? No matter how many tricks there are, it boils down to three moves,” Du Chuanyun, oblivious to humility, spoke incessantly about his adventures in the pugilist world. “It’s either money, women, or power. It could be turning copper into gold, lead into silver, some gambling scheme, some honey trap, or the tempting offer of an official position, it depends on what interests you.”

“If it were me, I’d definitely be interested in turning copper into gold,” Zhang Youcai, finally satisfied with eating, looked at the few remaining pieces of melon in the plate with reluctance.

“You’re a eunuch, so of course, you’d be interested in gold and silver,” Du Chuanyun said coldly, then turned to the Weary Marquis and continued, “I’ve inquired about it. This Lin Kunshan is not simple. He goes by many names, but the most common one is Lin Beiyou. He is an expert in the spirits, and is a fate seer. Those he targets often end up in ruin.”

“I have no money or power. Why would he target me?”

“In that case, I don’t know. But if I were to guess, I’d say that his ultimate goal might not be to deceive you but to use your position and status to deceive someone who is truly wealthy. Scammers always have one goal, and that’s money.”

“Come on, you think you know so much,” Du Motian chided, pushing his grandson off the stone bench. “Lord Marquis, don’t worry about it. The matter has been resolved. As long as the two of us are in the manor, no scammer would dare target you.”

Han Ruzi smiled and changed the subject, but he hadn’t forgotten about this topic.

Studying at the College of National Scions was nothing like he had imagined. It had been nearly ten days since he enrolled, and he hadn’t seen any other students, nor had he attended a single class. Every day, he would show up, and the officials would give various reasons for canceling lessons, allowing him to return home.

Initially, he thought they didn’t want to accept a deposed Emperor. However, he later learned from the Manor Clerk that it was the norm at the College of National Scions. Many noble sons and daughters would send their servants to attend the morning roll call, and they would only visit the college when the Ministry of Rites conducted inspections, which happened no more than ten times a year.

Han Ruzi found it really unfair. When he was the Emperor, he attended classes every day without fail, rain or shine. Instead, these young nobles were leisurely slacking off.

So, he stopped going to the College of National Scions and let Zhang Youcai attend roll call by himself.

The day after Eunuch He Yi reported financial difficulties to him, Han Ruzi was pondering how to steer the conversation back to the topic of “deceptive tricks” when Du Chuanyun came to visit.

Zhang Youcai had just gone to the College of National Scions, leaving Han Ruzi alone in the study, reading books. Du Chuanyun knocked on the door and entered, looking around the room filled with books, trying to avoid touching anything that might bring bad luck. “I need to discuss something with you.”

“Hmm,” Han Ruzi put down his book.

Du Chuanyun stared at the Weary Marquis for a moment, then asked directly, “Do you want to make a big profit?”

“I’m not a merchant…”

“But you need money,” Du Chuanyun widened his eyes. He always had trouble keeping his composure when persuading others.

“Tell me what’s going on first.”

Du Chuanyun pulled over a chair, sat across from the desk, and looked straight at the Weary Marquis. “In Fresh Greens Lane, to answer Houwu’s questions, I claimed that grandpa and I were also getting you into a scam, even earlier than Lin Kunshan.”

“I overheard that at the time.”

“Houwu believed it, and according to the rules, Lin Kunshan can’t have any more contact with you. As for the gold and silver you rewarded us, we actually distributed it to our fellow pugilists in the martial world, telling them it was obtained through deception.”

“Is it because the money wasn’t enough? How much do you need? Just tell me.”

Du Chuanyun kept shaking his head. “If we take more money from you, wouldn’t we truly become scammers? I have an idea, and it won’t require your money, but it will provide an explanation to our pugilist world comrades.”

“Go on.”

“Lin Kunshan was able to get money from you. Why can’t we get it ourselves?”

“How can we get money ourselves?”

“Lin Kunshan must know. I can go and capture him. We’ll know after interrogating him.”

Han Ruzi shook his head insistently. “No, we can’t take any more risks. Let me think about it.”

“Someone like Lin Kunshan is a wanderer who’s at home anywhere in the world. Today he’s in the Capital, but tomorrow he could be in the south. Once he leaves, the secret of the money scam goes with him.”

Han Ruzi understood. Lin Kunshan’s “secret scam” was a scheme to tempt the Weary Marquis into revealing his imperial ambitions. After a long pause, he said, “You want to set up a real scam to preserve your reputation in the pugilist world?”

“Yes, otherwise, they might say that us Dus did not live up to our claims.” From Du Chuanyun’s perspective, deceiving royalty and nobility would elevate their reputation, but deceiving fellow pugilists was shameful.

Han Ruzi pondered once again. “What does old Master Du say about this?”

“I talked to him, but he’s not interested. Anyway, it was me who lied to Houwu, not him.”

“But he didn’t stop you?”

“My grandfather has never stopped me from doing things. He often says that he can protect me for a while, but not for a lifetime. The pugilist world is something you venture into yourself; it’s not something your grandfather can bring you into.”

Han Ruzi could relate; Yang Feng had a similar attitude towards his actions.

“I have an idea. Without Lin Kunshan, we could still get some money.”

“You?” Du Chuanyun couldn’t believe that the Weary Marquis would be skilled in deception.

In fact, Han Ruzi had been thinking about it for several days. If Du Chuanyun had arrived a little later, he would have gone to find the Du father and son himself. “Do you know how to gamble?”

“Of course, my grandfather says I learned to throw dice before I even learned to walk.”

“Then you should be quite skilled.”

“I’m not boasting, but in terms of martial arts and swordsmanship, I’m at best second-rate. But when it comes to gambling, I’m top-notch. Many heroes of the pugilist world have lost everything to me.”

Han Ruzi lightly tapped the desk with his hand. “That makes it easy. I know some noble figures who are both wealthy and fond of gambling. Why not try to win a substantial sum from them?”

While Du Chuanyun aimed to collect gold and silver, Han Ruzi had a bigger target in mind.

[1] Referring to funerals and by extension death is seen as somewhat inauspicious.

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