He Zeng was a man who would be Jia Chong's dog for fame and rank, a man who could disregard his own son to save himself.
By now, Cao Mao's standing in the realm was far beyond anything Jia Chong could match.
He Zeng was utterly exhilarated by the olive branch the emperor had extended.
He cared neither about his reputation among the literati nor about what methods he used.
At times like these, one missed men like Man Chong all the more. Back when Man Chong was still around, the great clans had behaved themselves so well, devoting themselves to the state and even voluntarily surrendering the population and grain they had concealed.
Of course, comparing someone like He Zeng to Man Chong was an insult to Man Chong. Man Chong had done nothing to deserve that.
But He Zeng could employ the same methods.
Cao Mao felt that the memorial addressed to him might not be the only one tucked inside He Zeng's sleeves right now. For all he knew, the other sleeve held another memorial urging him to visit Xuchang to see an auspicious omen.
For a petty man like He Zeng, fickleness and betrayal were as commonplace as daily meals.
Someone who whitewashed a regicide's crimes and fawned over him was worse than the regicide himself.
But such a man gave Cao Mao no cause for concern, either. He would use him first and throw him away if he grew dirty.
The man had no fine character to speak of anyway. If he reformed and earned merit in the future, Cao Mao could let him enjoy his remaining years in peace. If he continued his wicked ways, Cao Mao could simply discard him after using him.
A smile appeared on Cao Mao's face. He was extremely