From the moment he took over the relief efforts, he knew that mess wouldn’t be easy to handle.
People making false claims for clothes, people selling cotton coats, people stealing the distribution ledgers—all sorts of characters had come forward. Dozens were arrested daily, the capital’s jails were overflowing, and the Court of Judicial Review’s three prison blocks were nearly at capacity.
This was within his expectations.
He had always known that the so-called “upright officialdom” and “enforcing the law like a mountain” were merely ideals found in literature.
Only when one truly plunged into the suffering of the world did one realize how deep the waters were.
Initially, he followed protocol, the law, and the procedures.
But after a few days, he realized this relief effort was far more complex than he had imagined.
On the surface, it was a crowd of refugees, but in reality, it was a den of vipers. Well-organized syndicates had infiltrated the ranks—fake names, fake registries, even their miserable appearances were a performance.
He had seen with his own eyes a batch of brand-new cotton coats being distributed, only for them to appear at a stall in a West Market alley moments later, being sold by the pound alongside iron pots and charcoal.
He originally thought these were isolated incidents, but further investigation revealed that nearly every distribution point had “brokers” and “informants” who specialized in collecting the better-quality coats to resell at a premium.
He finally understood why that “Master Plum” had insisted on making every distributed coat look tattered and smell foul. It wasn’t to humiliate the refugees; it was to sever the black market’s supply chain.
He had adopted that man’s methods and changed the procedures, but he was a step too late.
After several distribution points were forcibly reorganized, the registration process became tedious. Last night, after the snowfall, several genuine refugees died at the gates because their identities hadn’t been verified in time.
He had not come today to investigate a case or to demand answers.
He had come to confess his guilt.
Nie Jin followed Liu Erlang into the inner room. The sudden wave of warm fragrance made his breath hitch.
He kept his eyes lowered, his gaze never rising more than three inches above the floor. The moment he crossed the threshold, he knelt without hesitation, flipping his robes. “Nie Jin, Chief Justice of the Court of Judicial Review, greets the Lord Chancellor.”
The soft rustle of silk reached his ears, followed by a lazy, melodious voice from above: “Master Nie, you may rise.”
That voice—!
Nie Jin’s heart jolted, but he remained in his kneeling position.
Xie Shaoling’s Ode to the Plum from the Qionglin Banquet echoed in his mind. He had suspected then that the “Plum” Xie Shaoling spoke of was the same Master Plum he had met.
Furthermore, the familiar way Master Plum spoke of Pei Jingyi, and the current, indescribable relationship between the General and the Chancellor…
There were so many clues; he should have realized it long ago.
But why had he been so afraid to confirm it?
Nie Jin’s gaze fell on the hem of the garment before him, embroidered with dark patterns.
Perhaps it was because that day, when Master Plum had looked at him, those smiling eyes had been too captivating.
How could such world-shaking beauty belong to the man who held the entire court in his palm—the notorious Chancellor Gu?
Seeing that he wouldn’t move, Gu Huaiyu allowed him to remain kneeling. He said languidly, “Master Nie, why do you not dare to look at me?”
Nie Jin slowly raised his head. His gaze landed precisely on Gu Huaiyu’s jade belt—neither overstepping his bounds nor appearing cowardly.
“I have come today to plead guilty.”
His voice was as steady as iron, every word heavy. “I took it upon myself to change the relief protocols, resulting in three people freezing to death last night. This is a failure of my duty. I have come to accept my punishment.”
The moment the words left his mouth, Gu Huaiyu replied without a hint of hesitation, “Very well. Dismissed from office and sentenced to death.”
Nie Jin’s expression didn’t flicker. He reached up and removed his black official hat, holding it above his head with both hands. “I am willing to accept this penalty.”
He had known this day would come. Having spent years secretly investigating Gu Huaiyu’s crimes, he had long expected a reckoning.
He just hadn’t expected that it would be his own failure in relief efforts that finally gave his enemy the leverage.
The room fell silent for a moment. Then, a very soft laugh broke the quiet.
“Or…”
Gu Huaiyu drew out the word slowly. “Master Nie could beg me? I value talent; it’s not impossible for me to spare you.”
Nie Jin’s head snapped up, his eyes burning with intensity. He maintained his posture, offering up his hat with both hands, his voice even more resonant than before. “I thank the Lord Chancellor for his kindness, but I have erred and should face the law.”
Gu Huaiyu’s eyes turned cold. He admired Nie Jin’s backbone, but his patience for a “good face” ended at three parts; anything more was just asking for a lesson.
“Master Nie cares so much for his clean reputation…” He tapped his chin, coming up with a way to torment the man. “You won’t even accept a single favor from me?”
“Then I insist on sparing you.”
He paused, his tone laced with a touch of playful malice. “And I shall ensure the entire capital hears how the ‘upright and incorruptible’ Chief Justice of the Court of Judicial Review knelt in the Chancellor’s Estate for an entire night, wagging his tail and begging…”
“…To become my man.”
