Pei Jingyi’s eyes suddenly lit up. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Vicious.”
“The Abbot’s belly was filled to the brim with boiling grain. He was scalded to death from the inside out,” Liu Erlang said, a hint of pride in his voice. “Now, in this entire city, no one dares play tricks under the Chancellor’s nose.”
Liu Erlang looked at him with a meaningful gaze. “Though, the Chancellor can’t compare to the General’s ruthlessness. You managed to walk away after choking him. Now that is true ferocity.”
Pei Jingyi gave a huff of laughter. When it came to being “vicious,” he and Gu Huaiyu weren’t cut from the same cloth.
On the battlefield, Pei killed with efficiency—one stroke, a head rolls, blood sprays. It was straightforward.
But Gu Huaiyu’s method—boiling porridge down the throat, melting internal organs without spilling a drop of blood or dirtying his own hands—that served as a lesson the entire city would never forget.
It was sinister, yes. But it was also beautiful. It was precise. It was so effective it made Pei’s… heart itch.
No wonder the officials called him “Gu the Cat” behind his back.
He really was like a cat. Even when he took a life, he did it with such aesthetic grace.
After leaving the temple, Pei Jingyi toured several more shrines and porridge sheds throughout the city.
The capital looked no different than usual. The streets were bustling, people were coming and going, and a sense of peaceful prosperity filled the air—it was even livelier than normal.
This actually made his brow furrow.
By all logic, one hundred thousand refugees entering the city should have caused chaos. He had seen the horrors of displaced mobs at the border: looting, theft, rape, and the inevitable military suppression.
But the capital before him was more orderly than ever.
As he walked the alleys, he didn’t see a single person out of control. Shops were open, street vendors were shouting their wares, and there were actually fewer constables on patrol than usual.
“Interesting…” He stopped a low-level clerk on patrol and asked casually, “Has the city been peaceful lately?”
Seeing the man’s towering height, the clerk answered nervously, “Very peaceful!”
Pei Jingyi grabbed the man’s collar and pulled him close, whispering, “And those from Jiangzhou—?”
The clerk understood immediately, wiping sweat from his brow. “Oh, you want to know about that! The Chancellor arranged everything long ago. Any merchant who hires a refugee from Jiangzhou gets a tax break. Right now, workers from Jiangzhou are in high demand!”
He pointed across the street, where a recruitment notice was prominently posted on a door:
[This shop seeks carriage drivers, clerks, and laborers. Applicants must be Jiangzhou refugees. Register with the authorities for immediate placement.]
Pei Jingyi released the clerk and continued down the street, observing.
Every shopfront had a bright red recruitment paper, all reading: “Urgent need for Jiangzhou labor.”
In the fabric shops, refugee women were nimbly spinning thread. Outside wine houses, strong young men were hauling jars. Even at the apothecaries, elderly refugees were sorting medicinal herbs.
Most surprising of all was their demeanor. Though their clothes were tattered, their expressions were stable. There was none of the panic or aggression common among the displaced.
A few children even gathered around a sugar-sculpture stall, watching with wide eyes as the vendor shaped the sweets.
Pei Jingyi stood before the stall, lost in thought.
He had assumed Gu Huaiyu’s “actual business” was just the usual government posturing—putting on a show to fool the masses. He hadn’t expected an arrangement so seamless and airtight.
From the porridge sheds in the temples to the workshops in the alleys, every link was connected. Gu had taken ten thousand refugees and quietly dissolved them into the lifeblood of the capital.
Since coming to the capital from Bingzhou, Pei had met countless civil officials, and they were all the same. Their memorials were flowery, their speeches were grand, but their execution was a disaster.
Those “scholars” couldn’t even manage basic military logistics without causing a mess. Local officials, when faced with disaster, did nothing but write letters of apology.
But here, on the streets of the capital, Pei Jingyi found himself coming to a halt.
The porridge sheds were full, the workshops had labor, the refugees didn’t riot, and the merchants were eager to help. Every step had been predicted, every move pre-arranged.
The “actual business” Gu Huaiyu spoke of was indeed exactly that.
“Hey! General Pei!”
Liu Erlang came running up, looking rather reluctant. “The Chancellor is heading back to the manor. He told you to come along.”
Pei Jingyi nodded and followed.
As they turned a corner, they saw a long queue at a station for distributing winter clothing. Officials were handing out drab, grey padded coats.
The coats didn’t smell particularly good; even the officials held their noses in disgust.
But Pei Jingyi’s nose was as sharp as a hound’s. Even from a distance, he could smell the bitter scent of several medicinal herbs used to repel insects and lice.
![The Coveted Pretty Wife [Quick Transmigration]](https://i0.wp.com/dobynovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/03/w.jpg?resize=151,215 "The Coveted Pretty Wife [Quick Transmigration]")
I see 👀that explains the strange smell , the marking on the winter clothes must work as an identification to the refugee so they can get hired 🧐
Let’s hope Nie Jin doesn’t screw all of GH’s work because he misunderstands his intention