Daily Life of a Villain at Work [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 48

Chapter 48: The Twelfth Day of the Villain Being Emperor

On the fourth day of the tenth month, Chu Xin bid farewell to her Majesty and left the capital to take up her post, accompanied by her eldest sister-in-law, Xiang Han, and her nine-year-old niece, Chu Ling.

In addition to her family, the Chu family provided Chu Xin with two physician-maids, eight highly skilled martial arts maids, and twelve robust male attendants. All were bondservants whose lives were in Chu Xin’s hands, making them relatively reliable.

Compared to the Chu family, Wen Qingyun, as a monarch who favored her officials, was far more generous. She directly selected one hundred men from the Imperial Guards to serve as Chu Xin’s personal escort, along with two imperial physicians specializing in women’s medicine and a dozen apprentices.

Furthermore, she issued a secret decree bearing the Imperial Seal, allowing Chu Xin to mobilize up to 10,000 soldiers from local garrisons and granting her command over them for a duration of one month.

The procession was long, but with plenty of horses, they could cover over a hundred miles a day. Pushing hard, Chu Xin finally arrived in Anji Sub-prefecture on the 20th of the tenth month to officially assume her role as Magistrate.

Meanwhile, the edicts Wen Qingyun had Chu Xin draft were officially promulgated, to take effect in the second year of the Tianzhou era. Once the new year passed, any officials or local gentry found violating the decrees would be severely punished. The vetting for the Imperial Examinations would also begin; any degree holder found to have visited prostitutes would see their family barred from the exams for three generations.

Due to some resistance, the implementation of this specific decree was slightly compromised. After various negotiations, it was decided that only candidates currently participating in the examinations were strictly forbidden from visiting brothels—a slight relaxation from the original total ban on all title-holders, which would be enforced more strictly in subsequent exam cycles.

This development was within Wen Qingyun’s expectations. Her primary goal was the “Door-in-the-Face” effect: by setting an impossibly strict initial standard, she trained the ministers to ensure that future candidates were “clean” in mind and body.

“So this was all part of your plan?” the Empress Dowager asked. Looking at Wen Qingyun, who grew more regal by the day, her eyes held a complex mix of emotions, though mostly pride.

“In a way,” Wen Qingyun smiled, pouring tea for her mother. “The ministers are relieved that I’m only pursuing current candidates. They haven’t realized that even this will prevent a vast number of men from competing for three years. By the next cycle, many more women will have attained degrees. By the time those men return, the number of female candidates will be impossible to ignore.”

…

Governing a sub-prefecture was not a problem for Chu Xin; her month serving as the Emperor’s close attendant had taught her much about statecraft. However, settling women coming from all corners of the country, nursing them back to health, and organizing their training was not something she could do easily.

It wasn’t until April that the Women’s Army camp finally got on track. While Chu Xin held the nominal title of Commander, the actual training was handled by a lieutenant sent by General Wang Yuejiao. The lieutenant, a woman in her thirties with a terrifying scar across her eye, was cold-blooded. She gave the first batch of 350 women only three days to adapt. By the fourth day, their training standard equaled that of regular garrison soldiers. Only those who finished their drills got to eat; those who didn’t had to make up the training during rest hours.

Chu Xin didn’t interfere with the military discipline, but she visited the camp daily. She saw many women in tears, their hands and feet bloodied from the drills.

“Should I ask Lieutenant Liu to slow down for you?” Chu Xin asked, her heart aching.

“We appreciate your kindness, Master Chu, but please do not,” one crying woman replied while applying medicine. “We can endure this. These superficial wounds are nothing compared to the means used to break us in the brothels. Those wounds heal; the brothels were meant to crush our spines so we could never stand up again.”

Chu Xin fell silent, moved by their resolve.

Just then, a subordinate arrived in a hurry. “Master! A woman claiming to be from Sichuan Province is at the gates, begging for justice.”

Sichuan was thousands of miles away. If she had come all this way, it was undoubtedly related to the Women’s Army.

Chu Xin galloped back to the yamen. Inside, her sister-in-law, Xiang Han, handed her a blood-stained envelope. “She fainted after speaking. The doctor says it’s extreme exhaustion. She guarded this in her bosom and insisted I give it to you.”

Chu Xin read the letter, her face contorting with rage. “How dare they! Her Majesty granted them travel expenses to come to Anji. Who dares to kidnap them on the road?”

The letter explained that a group of twenty-six women traveling from Sichuan had been ambushed by “well-trained bandits” near the border. Only this woman had escaped.

“I must write to the Emperor!” Chu Xin hissed. She didn’t have jurisdiction over Sichuan, but she knew who did. She finished a scathing memorial in fifteen minutes and handed it to the Imperial Guards. “Take this to the capital. Use the fastest horses. Move!”

…

Three days later, the woman from Sichuan regained consciousness. Seeing Chu Xin in her crimson robes, she burst into tears. “Master, please seek justice for us!”

She explained that she and her sisters were from a brothel in Sichuan. When the Emperor’s decree arrived, twenty-six of them chose to join the army. They had even hired guards and joined a merchant caravan for safety.

“It went well at first, but just as we were leaving Sichuan, a band of thugs appeared. They ignored the merchants and went straight for us. My sister, the former ‘Oiran’ (top courtesan), realized they were after her. She pushed me away and gave me the money to run.”

“Does your sister have a suspicion of who was behind it?” Chu Xin asked.

The woman hesitated. “When my sister was the Oiran, the young son of the Left Provincial Governor of Sichuan favored her. He was always polite and talked of poetry, and didn’t stop her when she said she wanted to join the army… but she suspected it might be him.”

Chu Xin, no longer a political novice, doubted a Provincial Governor would be so stupid as to directly defy an imperial decree for a woman. It was more likely a local power or a subordinate trying to “curry favor” by “retrieving” the beauty for the young master, thinking they could do it quietly.

Chu Xin took down the names of all twenty-five missing women and wrote a second, more detailed memorial.

…

When Wen Qingyun received the blood-stained letter and the memorial, her expression didn’t flicker. She knew the further a place was from the capital, the weaker her influence. Sichuan was far, and she hadn’t purged their elite yet.

She summoned a junior scholar from the Hanlin Academy who was originally from Chengdu, Sichuan.

“When you were in Sichuan, what did you hear about the ‘Oiran’ of the Fengyue Pavilion and the Governor’s son?” she asked.

The scholar knelt, terrified. “Your Majesty, it was rumored to be a platonic friendship. But I remember… Before I left for the exams, the local Prefect had a conflict with the Governor’s son over that woman. The Prefect eventually had to apologize.”

The Prefect, Wen Qingyun noted.

She didn’t waste time. She summoned Weiyu of the Northern Bureau (Jinyiwei) and handed her the bloody letter.

“Take your men to Anji. Get the full story from the survivor, then go to Sichuan. I give you a special decree: anyone who obstructs you, regardless of rank, kill them.”

“This subject obeys,” Weiyu’s eyes flashed with a lethal excitement. Her blade had been dry for too long.

…

Weiyu arrived in Anji, questioned the woman for fifteen minutes, and left for Sichuan without even stopping to rest.

Within half a month, Weiyu had uncovered everything. She bound the Prefect and threw him at the Governor’s gate.

“Governor, this man illegally dispatched subordinates to intercept women joining the army—a crime equivalent to defying an imperial decree,” Weiyu smiled thinly. “If you cannot handle this, I can handle it for you.”

The Governor, sweating profusely, realized the Jinyiwei had already found documents in the Prefect’s office. Weiyu had also rescued 135 women from various private estates—women who had “disappeared” while trying to join the army.

“I will ensure they are escorted to Anji with the utmost safety,” the Governor pledged.

…

By the 15th of the fifth month, Wen Qingyun brought the matter to the morning court, turning her fury on the Censorate.

“Is my decree a piece of waste paper?” she shouted. “Are there people who think they can ignore me to satisfy their lust?”

The officials knelt in terror.

“Censor-in-Chief! Tell me, how should I appease my anger?”

“Your Majesty, I will dispatch Censors to every province immediately. Any who feign compliance will be dealt with severely!”

“Listen well,” Wen Qingyun’s voice echoed. “If a Censor finds hidden domestic slaves or brothel women, the perpetrator is to be executed immediately. The Censor will be promoted one rank for every ten criminals caught. If a Censor is murdered while investigating, I will grant their family eternal honor and allow their heir to take their place as a Censor to continue the hunt!”

“I want them to know,” she sneered, “that I am the Emperor!”

She swept out of the hall, leaving the officials in a state of shock.

“Should we send everyone?” the Vice Censor-in-Chief whispered.

“The Emperor has a killing intent,” the Censor-in-Chief sighed. “Leave the thirty who are too old to travel. Send the other hundred. Tell them this: this is their chance. If they succeed, they will be favored. If they die, their sons will rise. Tell them the Emperor’s words exactly.”

He didn’t dare do anything else. He only hoped the Censorate’s efficiency would keep the Emperor’s fire from burning their own house down.