As Mengde laid out one example after another, Cao Song broke into a cold sweat and quickly raised a hand to stop her.
“Alright, alright, Jili… I admit it. I have been embezzling a little.”
“How much is ‘a little’?” she asked flatly.
“Oh, just a few million coins… that’s all…”
“Several million!?” Mengde’s voice shot up by eight octaves.
“You’ve only been serving as the Grand Minister of Agriculture for a few months! and under the watchful eyes of Grand Tutor Chen, no less. How did you manage to embezzle several million coins!? Father, I really don’t know whether to call you reckless beyond belief or just naturally gifted when it comes to corruption!”
Cao Song scratched his cheek awkwardly and tried to defend himself.
“A mere few million coins is actually very little when compared to the total revenue of the Ministry of Agriculture…”
“Father! Are you seriously comparing your income to the imperial treasury!?”
Miss Mengde continued to shriek.
Cao Song lowered his head guiltily.
The Ministry of Agriculture was the bureau under Cao Song’s jurisdiction as Grand Minister of Agriculture.
According to historical records, the Ministry handled around six billion coins in annual revenue.
In addition to that, the Han dynasty had another financial agency—the Imperial Secretariat—which brought in about eight billion coins a year.
Together, they totaled around fourteen billion coins annually.
However, the Imperial Secretariat was traditionally considered the emperor’s private treasury.
Its funds went directly into the emperor’s personal coffers and were not included in the general state budget.
But now, the current Emperor Liu Hong was only twelve years old and far from being able to rule on his own.
Power was in the hands of two regents—Grand General Dou Wu and Grand Tutor Chen Fan.
At present, the head of the Imperial Secretariat was Zhang Huan, the same man who helped suppress the recent eunuch rebellion.
As such, the treasury funds under the Secretariat could be used by the court however they pleased.
You could say that Chen Fan, aside from his strong administrative capabilities, was also quite politically astute.
He knew very well that behind every problem the court faced lay a fiscal one.
So right after eliminating the eunuchs, he appointed both Cao Song and Zhang Huan—who had helped in the rebellion—to the Ministry of Agriculture and the Imperial Secretariat, respectively.
This allowed him to firmly grasp control over the empire’s finances.
Seeing her father remain silent with a guilty expression, Mengde sighed after thinking for a moment.
“Father, you’d better find a way to return the few million coins you’ve embezzled these past months. As the saying goes, ‘A gentleman loves wealth but acquires it through proper means.’ We can’t keep money obtained through corruption.”
“What? Why not!? Everyone else in court is doing it!”
“Just because others do it doesn’t mean we should stoop to their level. Do you see Grand Tutor Chen or the Grand General doing it?”
“Well… no, he don’t…”
Cao Song muttered reluctantly, clearly frustrated.
Both Chen Fan and Dou Wu were historically known for their integrity.
Not only did they refuse to take bribes, but they would often use their own limited savings to help others.
You could say they were honest to a fault.
Watching her father’s conflicted expression, Mengde couldn’t help but laugh.
She teased, “Father, don’t forget—you’re now the ‘Fourth Gentleman’ after the Three Excellencies. You’re expected to be a role model for all the scholars of the empire. And right now, you’re allied with the Grand Tutor. If he starts to resent you for your excessive corruption and you lose your standing at court, it’ll be more trouble than it’s worth. You mustn’t let your hands wander again.”
“I understand…”
Cao Song replied with a dejected look on his face.
Seeing this, Mengde found the whole situation even more amusing.
She smirked mischievously and decided to drop another bombshell.
“Oh, and Father—not only must you stop embezzling now, but you’ll need to start giving money to the Emperor in the future.”
“What!? I need to give him money?”
Cao Song stared wide-eyed in disbelief.
“Of course!” Mengde winked playfully.
“The Grand Tutor and the Grand General are in their seventies and sixties respectively. How many years do you think they have left? Father, do you really believe the Emperor has a good impression of you? If the eunuchs’ palace coup had succeeded, the Emperor could’ve killed both the Grand Tutor and the Grand General and taken power immediately.”
“But thanks to your involvement, the eunuchs failed, and now he has to wait until adulthood to rule. Don’t you think he’ll resent you for that? Once the Grand Tutor and the Grand General pass away, and the Emperor finally takes control, how do you plan to protect yourself?”
“Well…” Cao Song mulled over her words, then asked hesitantly, “Will giving him money really be enough to protect me?”
“Of course it will,” Mengde replied confidently.
“Do you remember what the Emperor did right after ascending the throne? He ordered the renovation of his old marquis residence in Hejian. Even though he’s now the ruler of the Han Empire, he still cares deeply about his hometown. Doesn’t that remind you of Xiang Yu’s famous saying: ‘To attain wealth and not return home is like wearing fine clothes at night’?”
“In Xiang Yu’s heart, wealthy Guan Zhong was no match for her native Jiangdong. The Emperor is clearly the same. With that kind of personality, he’ll fixate on petty gains like a rural aristocrat, not long-term interests. So as long as you give him enough money, he’ll gladly overlook your role in the failed coup.”
“And what are we supposed to eat?”
Cao Song snapped, clearly agitated, before sighing.
“Give money to the Emperor… Our Cao family is just an ordinary wealthy household from Qiao County in Peiguo. Now, you’re forbidding me from embezzling while also asking me to keep handing over money to the Emperor—where exactly am I supposed to get it from? If we give away all our family wealth, how are we supposed to survive? Was siding with Grand Tutor Chen during the coup really the right choice…?”
Currently, Cao Song held the post of Grand Minister of Agriculture, a position ranked among the Nine Ministers and officially classified as a “true two-thousand-bushel” salary.
The term “bushel” here referred to grain, meaning he was supposed to receive 2,160 bushels of grain per year.
And what was that worth?
In the Han dynasty, one bushel of grain usually sold for about 100 coins, so 2,000 bushels equaled an annual income of roughly 200,000 coins.
That might sound like a lot to a commoner, but for an official in the feudal system, it was barely enough to scrape by—especially when officials had to support not just themselves but entire households filled with servants and retainers.
To be fair, Mengde’s demand for Cao Song to stop embezzling was quite harsh.
In the feudal era, corruption was essentially institutionalized and expected.
After all, the principle of “high risk, high reward” applied to officialdom too.
No one would risk being beheaded by a temperamental emperor just for a meager salary.
Officials didn’t enter government for the meager stipend—they sought power.
And in feudal China, power was semi-private—those who held it could do just about anything, including lining their own pockets.
Especially in the Han dynasty.
Unlike the fast-collapse Qin dynasty, the Han endured long enough for corruption to flourish unchecked.
For example, Emperor Jing’s sister, Princess Guantao, openly claimed she would fulfill any request for a price.
Because she always delivered, she earned quite the reputation among nobles and ministers—people even jokingly called her the “Tenth Minister” outside the official Nine.
By the time of Emperor Ling’s reign, corruption had become unavoidable.
Every official had to buy their post up front—with one bushel costing 10,000 coins.
That meant buying a 2,000-bushel governorship would cost 20 million coins.
With an annual salary of only 200,000 coins, it would take a hundred years to break even—a true “pay-to-play” system.
Even honest appointees had to pay bribes, though perhaps at a discounted rate.
This system destroyed the bureaucracy.
Clean officials either quit or killed themselves.
One man, Sima Zhi, committed suicide rather than pay 17 million coins or become corrupt.
Under Liu Hong’s rule, the only ones who remained were corrupt.
Cao Song himself, historically, embezzled an enormous amount as Grand Minister of Agriculture.
Then he spent 1 billion coins to buy himself the title of Grand Commandant—just to enjoy being a top minister for less than a year before getting kicked out.
He became one of the most legendary suckers of the late Han.
Hearing her father’s frustration, Mengde thought for a moment and said, “What will we eat…? We’ll go into business!”
“Business?”
“Yes, business,” Mengde nodded.
“Give me some starting capital and some people—I’ll handle it.”
As for what kind of business to pursue, Mengde already had ideas.
As the saying goes, the most profitable trades are written in the criminal code.
In the Han dynasty, the most lucrative businesses were salt and iron, which had been state monopolies since Emperor Wu’s reign.
But thanks to Emperor Guangwu Liu Xiu’s reforms that favored the people, salt and iron were no longer state-run.
Merchants could freely buy and sell them.
Mengde had watched countless educational videos on iron production in her past life, all of which were now stored like files in her memory.
With a little effort, she could recall them and build blast furnaces and open-hearth furnaces in the Han dynasty.
While the output wouldn’t match modern levels, producing tens of thousands of tons of pig iron and a few thousand tons of steel per year would be more than enough to crush the primitive Han market.
Once the iron industry reached a certain scale, Mengde also planned to get into horse trading.
Horses were strategic assets.
By establishing a solid trade route, she could later use it during times of war to acquire horses and build her own cavalry force.
As for salt… she planned to develop it just a little—definitely not to the scale of her iron operation.
Salt and iron were national lifelines.
Even with Cao Song’s backing, if the Cao family tried to monopolize both, no amount of tribute to the Emperor could prevent Liu Hong from wiping them out.
“…Fine. I’ll do as you say.”
After thinking it over for a long while, Cao Song finally agreed to all of his daughter’s requests—trusting her completely.