Chapter 69: Another Bamboo Token

Minister of Personnel Zhao Cheng, Minister of Justice Zhao Ding, and Vice Minister of the Supreme Court Wang Shu stood before Zhao Huan.

Zhao Huan handed the petition in his hand to Zhao Ding and said, “Take a look at this. It’s a joint appeal from the common people of the Northwest. After reading it, I truly feel pained!”

Zhao Ding, puzzled, accepted the thick stack of papers from Zhao Huan. Only after opening it did he realize it concerned the former Chief Eunuch of the Inner Palace, Li Yan.

In fact, Li Yan’s misconduct had long been reported and impeached by many censors during Emperor Huizong’s reign. Unfortunately, Li Yan was then deeply favored by Emperor Huizong, so the matter ended unresolved.

But now Zhao Huan was bringing up this old account—did this mean he intended to investigate Li Yan?

Zhao Ding passed the petition to Zhao Cheng, who, after reading it, handed it to Wang Shu.

Once all three had finished, Zhao Huan said, “Let’s hear your thoughts.”

Zhao Ding glanced at his companions, exchanged looks, and then cleared his throat, saying, “Your Majesty, Li Yan has extorted and oppressed, seized farmland, and caused countless people in the Northwest to be displaced—his crimes are heinous. Now that we have conclusive evidence, the Ministry of Justice requests that he be detained and handed to the joint tribunal of the Three Judicial Offices, to publicly reveal his crimes and thus bring peace of mind to the people.”

Zhao Huan nodded and instructed, “With the Northwest embroiled in conflict, losing the people’s support would spell disaster. This must be dealt with immediately. Investigate the case thoroughly and build an ironclad case. All farmland seized by Li Yan over the years must be swiftly returned to the people, and all his ill-gotten gains confiscated!”

“We obey, Your Majesty!” The three officials accepted the decree and departed.

Zhao Huan took a deep breath, stood from the dragon throne, and said to Cheng Dafu, “Let’s go, to the Armory Department!”

Cheng Dafu was caught off guard by Zhao Huan’s sudden decision. “Your Majesty, it’s nearly time for the midday meal,” he said hurriedly.

Zhao Huan waved his hand dismissively. “No matter. We’ll just find something to eat outside the palace.”

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Cheng Dafu’s expression grew troubled. There was nothing good to eat outside the palace, and more importantly, he worried for Zhao Huan’s safety. If someone tried to poison him—or even just gave him an upset stomach—it would be his responsibility.

“Your Majesty, perhaps I should have the Imperial Kitchen prepare a meal quickly. We can go to the Armory Department after we eat,” Cheng Dafu suggested.

Zhao Huan was unconcerned. “No need for such trouble. We’ll leave now and eat something along the way!” With that, he started out.

Cheng Dafu hurried to prepare the carriage. Since Zhao Huan had become emperor, he’d been busier than ever, dragging Cheng Dafu along with him. Now, Zhao Huan was so pressed for time that he didn’t even bother with lunch in the palace and was actually going to eat at a restaurant outside—something Cheng Dafu had never imagined possible.

To avoid disturbing the people, Zhao Huan did not ride the imperial palanquin but instead took an ordinary carriage. Since the gunpowder developed by the Armory Department was dangerous, the department was located far from the palace. By the time Zhao Huan arrived, it was lunchtime.

By the roadside stood a small shop called “The Lone Family.” Seeing it was bustling with diners, Zhao Huan, relying on his experience from later eras, assumed the food must be good. He brought Cheng Dafu inside.

“What would you like to eat, sirs? We have buns, steamed cakes...” The shop, much like a modern family-owned diner, was tiny and run solely by the owner and his wife. Seeing customers enter, the owner greeted them warmly.

“Just bring us a few of your best dishes,” Zhao Huan said casually. He was never particular about flavors and, in his previous life, enjoyed eating at street stalls. Thus, he had no aversion to dining in such a humble place.

Cheng Dafu, however, was visibly tense. “Hurry up, and bring out whatever’s ready first,” he urged the owner.

The owner quickly agreed, but his gaze toward Zhao Huan grew curious.

Soon, the owner served their specialties, along with a basket of steamed buns and a plate of cakes. Cheng Dafu meticulously tested each dish with a silver needle for poison before setting them before Zhao Huan.

After one bite, Zhao Huan regretted his suggestion to eat at a roadside inn. The food was simply too plain—even for someone as unparticular as Zhao Huan, who had always enjoyed simple meals. There wasn’t the slightest trace of oil or meat.

Forcing down a single bun, Zhao Huan couldn’t continue. No wonder—after so long eating meals prepared by imperial chefs, his palate had grown accustomed to finer things.

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Seeing Zhao Huan put down his chopsticks after just one bun, the owner approached warmly. “Sir, does our cooking not suit your taste?”

Zhao Huan nodded. “It’s just too bland—not a trace of oil. It’s more like a monk’s vegetarian fare.”

The owner picked up his own chopsticks and tasted the food. “Surely not—the flavor is just right! Everyone who’s eaten here praises our food. You’re the first to say otherwise.”

“That’s right, the food here is delicious. You must be looking for trouble!” The commotion drew the attention of other diners, many of whom seemed to be regulars. They couldn’t help but side with the owner.

Seeing this, Cheng Dafu was alarmed and quickly stepped in front of Zhao Huan. “Master Huang, perhaps we should just leave.”

But Zhao Huan was unconcerned. He waved his hand. “No need to worry. They mean no harm.” Since becoming emperor, Zhao Huan’s senses had become unusually sharp, and he could sense danger instinctively.

“I’m not just looking for trouble. Is what I said not true? Take this cabbage, for example—it’s simply boiled in water with a pinch of salt. What’s the point of eating it like this?” Zhao Huan commented.

“Nonsense! If you don’t boil cabbage, are you supposed to eat it raw?” one diner retorted. “You’re just here to make trouble and skip the bill! Boss Zhang, don’t worry. If he tries to dine and dash, call the authorities—we’ll testify for you.”

“Cabbage is always boiled like this?” Zhao Huan asked, puzzled.

Everyone nodded. The owner, sensing Zhao Huan was not an ordinary customer and didn’t seem the sort to skip out on a bill, ventured, “Sir, do you have a better way to prepare it? If you do, tell me. I’ll make it again for you.”

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