"Alas!"
Zhao Buwei glanced at the maid trembling on her knees, shook his head, and directed the servants carrying a tray of silver straight toward the courtyard where he lived.
A faint breeze swept past. He had only gone half an arrow's flight when he suddenly felt an unnatural stillness. Looking over, he saw that the singing from the opera stage had stopped. Clearly, they had learned that Prince Qi had flown into another rage.
Zhao Buwei paid it no mind. Entering his room, he had the servants set the silver tray on the table, then dismissed them.
Two candles were lit in the room. Their flames glimmered faintly, casting a bright sheen over the silver ingots that could make one stare straight-eyed. Yet Zhao Buwei circled them once and let out a cold laugh.
"Who knew how many spies there were in the residence? I can spend this silver, but how could I possibly take it away?"
As he spoke, Zhao Buwei took a book from the shelf and opened it. Its interior had actually been hollowed out, leaving only a thick stack of banknotes. With a puff, he blew away the dust and smiled at himself. "Fortunately, I had prepared for a rainy day. Only this silver can escape Prince Qi's eyes and ears."
Prince Qi had a black hand and seized wealth by force, amassing no small estate. Zhao Buwei, who handled these matters for him, naturally skimmed quite a bit for himself. At the time, Prince Qi had been at the height of his power, so he had not worried much about the people in his residence. Supervision had thus grown lax, allowing Zhao Buwei to exchange the money for banknotes.
"And they are all the kind redeemable upon presentation."
Great Zheng had inherited Wei's system.