Hearing Jiang Zhizhou's words, Yang Qing could not help coughing.
He covered his mouth, trying to suppress the cough, but the movement pulled at the wound on his back, making the pain even sharper.
Jiang Zhizhou's face had been dark, but seeing him like this, he dared not say anything more harsh.
After coughing for a while, Yang Qing steadied himself and murmured a few words to Jiang Zhizhou.
Jiang Zhizhou's brows remained tightly knitted. "Since that is the plan, I'll send someone to add fuel to the fire."
"Once the arrow leaves the bow, there is no calling it back. Xiao Zhou, I'm entrusting this to you."
Yang Qing's gaze remained fixed on Jiang Zhizhou.
"Just make sure you recover properly, or I certainly won't let you off lightly."
With that, Jiang Zhizhou left the room.
Imperial City, Hall of Mental Cultivation
Chu Jinghui looked at Suotu. "Suotu, did you find anything at Chancellor Wei's residence?"
Suotu took a small bag of ash from his sleeve. Mixed into it were scraps of paper that had not burned completely.
"Your Majesty, when I arrived at Chancellor Wei's residence, I saw someone burning these in his study. I suspect they were letters or something of that sort, and they concern..."
Suotu paused, then continued, "Northern Liang."
Chu Jinghui was taken aback, and his gaze grew darker still. "Who is involved?"
Suotu carefully poured the ashes onto the floor, picked out the scraps of paper that had not burned completely, and handed them to Chu Jinghui. "Please take a look, Your Majesty!"
Chu Jinghui took them and read them. There was nothing particularly unusual written on them, merely a letter from a Northern Liang merchant to Wei Sizhong, explaining that this year's tea harvest had been poor and only a small quantity