Capital's Anchovy

In the spring of the 17th year of Chenghua, an imperial edict issued on the birthday of Concubine Wan Gui pushed Lin Yan, the most inconspicuous ninth-grade official in the Nanjing Ministry of Industry, to certain death. There is a twenty-day deadline and a journey of 3,120 miles to deliver the frozen Yangtze River shad, which will die immediately after leaving the water, to the Forbidden City. Failure to do so will be considered a crime of disrespect. No one told him that this shad tribute has always been a trap for the officialdom to blame the blame: the official ice has long been divided up by the noble eunuchs, the post horses are always given priority by high-ranking officials, blocking ships at the locks is commonplace, and every pass along the way is open-mouthed and asking for payment. The first two officials on errands, one was sent to the border and the other was confiscated and his house was ransacked for questioning. When it was his turn, a low-level official with no money and power, he was just another target pushed out to take the blame. He only had an old abacus passed down from his father and a lot of accounting skills from Hegongyilu, but he didn't believe in this evil. After three days and three nights behind closed doors, they forcibly carved out a dangerous road for land and water transportation. They forced their way into the ice cellar of a salt merchant in Yangzhou, crossed the silted Yue River at night in Huai'an, detoured through an abandoned post road in Shandong, and went straight to the military preparation office in Tianjin, filling pits with their lives along the way. Even the old wild ginseng used to treat my mother's illness was soaked in the ice water to cool down the fish. But after narrowly escaping from death and bringing the fresh fish to the palace gate, he realized that the palace never cared whether the fish was fresh or not. The dried stinky fish mixed with five flavors was still a delicacy for the royal banquet. The credit he put on the line with his life suddenly became a promotion bargaining chip for his superiors, and he himself had to take the blame. Everyone was vying to stay in the officialdom of the capital, but he handed in his resignation. In the small accounting room by Yanziji, the sound of abacus sounded again. The fast horse that paid tribute to Yu on the post road still galloped north every year, but this time, he counted the days of the living.