Disasters Force the Emperor to Compromise

William Wang Jinling’s plan to pressure the Emperor wasn’t discussed with Ninth Royal Uncle in advance, nor did Serena inform him deliberately—because Serena believed that Ninth Royal Uncle was already aware of it and would fully cooperate.

Don’t ask Serena why she trusts him—she just does. Even a thousand miles away, Ninth Royal Uncle would never abandon her. That trust comes from his feelings for her.

And facts proved Serena right. Ninth Royal Uncle might not be in the Capital, but he knew everything happening there—including Serena’s bold words in court and Summer’s betrayal.

Ninth Royal Uncle kept watching without stepping in—not because he didn’t want to help Serena, but because she was handling things beautifully. He wanted to see just how far she could go.

But when William started rallying the students, forcing the Emperor to give Serena justice, Ninth Royal Uncle decided it was time to stop just watching.

“Finally showing your claws, huh? I guess only Serena could make you risk everything and show your true strength.” Ninth Royal Uncle didn’t even know what mood he was in when he said this—just that it didn’t feel good.

She’s his woman—he’ll protect her himself. William really is too meddlesome.

“If you want to play, then let’s play big. Unless we drain the national treasury, the Emperor won’t settle down.” Ninth Royal Uncle picked up his brush and wrote several letters to his top regional officials.

The Emperor was still agonizing over the Eastlyn affair. He’d finally gained the upper hand and pinned the crime of harming the Chun Prince’s heirs on Princess Yara, and was just about to make a move to seize Serena’s command medallion—when memorials from every region began piling up on his desk.

“Ningdale County has suffered a flood—hundreds dead or injured, thousands of acres of good farmland submerged. They request a tax exemption and disaster relief funds.”

“Anya County is suffering drought—this autumn’s harvest will be a total loss. They request a tax exemption and disaster relief funds.”

“Yvale Town had an earthquake—countless homes collapsed, the losses to the people are devastating…”

“Shandong Circuit—famine…”

“Unrest in the northwest…”

……

Floods in the east, droughts in the west—then several counties hit by cattle plague, heavy losses for the people, bandits rampaging in some areas. Even the newly enfeoffed former Crown Prince just sent a memorial complaining of poverty, saying that his foundation in the Jiangnan region is shaky, there’s too much to handle, and asking the Emperor to postpone tax collection.

Memorial after memorial reporting disasters—all piled up on the Emperor’s desk. Seeing these, the Emperor’s eyes widened.

He knew every year there were plenty of disasters, but local officials usually hid them or underreported for the sake of their own records. But now?

Not only are they not hiding anything—they’re exaggerating the disasters, all of them crying out in misery, reaching out for silver from the national treasury, not caring at all about their year-end evaluations.

One or two, the Emperor could call coincidence. But when dozens in a row report trouble—if he still thinks it’s coincidence, he shouldn’t be sitting on the throne at all.

Someone was clearly pulling the strings behind all this—the motive was obvious.

“Scoundrels!” The Emperor slammed the memorials and cursed, but things were far worse than he imagined. For days on end, memorials reporting disasters from all over Eastlyn kept arriving.

Locust plagues, epidemics, flash floods—one after another, as if all of Eastlyn was drowning in disaster. Worst of all, somehow every single disaster memorial leaked out to the public.

The students and scholars, who’d just made a name for themselves, now acted like they were on fire. Without William even saying much, they flocked to the Inner Academy Grounds, the National Academy, and the palace gates to talk politics.

On top of wave after wave of disaster memorials, the Capital officials seemed cursed with bad luck. Today, one was caught visiting a brothel; tomorrow, another’s backyard erupted in scandal; then someone’s old bribery case was suddenly dragged out for everyone to see.

The Capital officials were run ragged and had no time for those disaster memorials. The counties and local offices that reported disasters got no word from above, so more and more memorials full of complaints piled up.

The Emperor was so busy his head spun. The number of state affairs he had to handle was multiplying. And just after all those disaster memorials came in, the military erupted in scandal—someone exposed the Ministry of War for skimming military rations, and commanders for embezzling them. This…

Was like poking a hornet’s nest!

Silver, silver—every local official was either asking the Emperor for silver or saying they couldn’t pay taxes this year and begging for a tax exemption. The Emperor, furious, dismissed a batch of officials, but their replacements were just the same—still demanding silver, still asking for tax breaks.

Because the disasters weren’t fake. Some places exaggerated, sure, but some counties really were so poor they couldn’t pay taxes. In past years, local officials just covered it up to create a false image of peace and prosperity.