Chapter 2600: Investigation (27)

But why would she have such a dream? As a committed atheist, Zheng Mingjiang put no stock in "visitations from the dead" or "divine revelations." She believed that dreams reflected waking preoccupations—yet she'd been consumed by the case, not research matters. Could her subconscious have sensed a connection between this investigation and scientific methodology?

As she ate breakfast, she rapidly traced the logical threads of the case. The drugs must have leaked somewhere between the Bairen General Hospital and the test subjects. The potential suspects included hospital doctors, the subjects themselves, and unknown intermediaries who collected medications from participants. Each portion siphoned off meant one less dose for clinical trials. And if some parties had privately disposed of the drugs, what would be the observable impact?

"The clinical trial data." Whether from the dream or from instincts honed by years of scientific research, a new idea crystallized in her mind.

By working backward through the experimental data and flagging anomalies, she should be able to pinpoint exactly when the drugs had leaked!

She sent this hypothesis to Hao Long via telegram. He had overseen the drug trials, so the detailed records and subject files should still exist in the Pharmaceutical Factory's archives.

Then she shared her thinking with Wu Mu.

"Tracing that Southeast Asian man shouldn't be difficult," Wu Mu said. "His features are too distinctive. He was most likely trafficked through Quark Qiong's slave market channels. Cross-referencing entry records should identify him quickly—probably a single query would do it."

"If he's a slave, how did he end up at the medicine market?"

"That's what we need to find out!" Wu Mu grew curious. "This androgen business is penny-ante stuff. Why does it matter so much to you?"

"The case value may be small, but too many pieces don't fit together." Zheng Mingjiang voiced her doubts.

Though she didn't elaborate, Wu Mu understood her meaning: from the start, she had suspected Senate members were involved in the drug leakage and had pressed hard in that direction. But while suspicions abounded, hard evidence remained elusive—not even a thread worth pulling.

"The biggest problem with this case," Wu Mu said, "is why Daoist Wood Stone keeps appearing. He haunts the Senate like a ghost that won't be exorcised."

"It's less about him than his superior—Stone Elder," Zheng Mingjiang replied. "To this day, the External Intelligence Bureau has no idea who Stone Elder actually is."

"His identity matters less than his motives. At this critical moment, with the Liang family secretly building alliances and plotting rebellion, why would they meddle in a counterfeit medicine case? Are they bringing their own provisions to rebel against the 'Kun'? It makes no sense." Wu Mu shook his head.

This was the question that most confounded him. He could understand why people like Liang Cunhou would rebel against the Senate—their vital interests were at stake. But why would Stone Elder, a court grandee in the distant capital with no ritual ties in the Two Guangs, fight the Senate to the death? Was it genuine foresight and patriotic concern? Such ministers had existed in the late Ming, but they rarely commanded resources on Stone Elder's scale, let alone orchestrated wave after wave of coordinated operations.

At Zheng Mingjiang's urging, the Senators in Guangzhou convened another joint meeting on the drug leakage issue to plan their next moves. The meeting produced three decisions: First, expedite corrections and verify that all departments had implemented the fixes identified in their self-examinations, closing every discovered loophole. Second, for current personnel involved in minor violations or acting as mere accomplices, launch confession-and-restitution activities. Those who acknowledged their mistakes and submitted approved written self-criticisms would be exempt from criminal punishment, with other penalties determined separately. Third, deploy forces to Huizhou to conduct large-scale searches and arrests, aiming to capture both people and contraband.

Huizhou fell within an area where Senate control remained weak. Both administrative and military-police forces were thin, and grassroots organizations were practically nonexistent. Expecting the locally recruited National Army and police—undermanned and of mixed quality—to thoroughly sweep the Boluo area was unrealistic. Zheng Mingjiang proposed mobilizing additional troops.

The final decision was to assign the newly organized units training in Huizhou: four battalions of the Northern Vietnam Agricultural Reclamation Detachment. Though only the armed cadre squadron of each battalion possessed genuine combat effectiveness, four squadrons still constituted a considerable force.

Since arriving at the farm estate, Yuan Shuzhi had effectively become a full member of the operation. The account books Steward Gao delivered grew thinner, but their contents took on an ominous character: "soldier pay registers" and "grain inventory registers" now appeared regularly.

From these ledgers, Yuan Shuzhi gleaned that this gang wasn't merely reselling Senate medicine—they were plotting armed rebellion. The accounts revealed that thirty or forty factions of various sizes had been secretly assembled. According to the pay registers, they numbered over twenty thousand men. Monthly wages alone required more than twenty thousand yuan, and with miscellaneous expenses, this mysterious Daoist spent thirty thousand a month just maintaining his forces. Money flowing like water.

Yuan Shuzhi was secretly alarmed. This Daoist harbored enormous ambitions! Honestly, he'd never imagined anyone would dare rebel against the Australians. Since arriving in Guangdong, the Australians had done nothing but good—everyone had benefited from them. Who would think of rebelling? Such ingratitude!

So this was why they'd painstakingly smuggled the Senate's "Divine Medicine"—not to enrich themselves, but to fund an army. Thinking this, Yuan Shuzhi couldn't help but feel contempt.

If they'd done it for personal gain, he might have respected them more. Bad, certainly, but at least clever. But to pour money earned at the risk of their necks into this bottomless pit? That was both wicked and idiotic. Contempt rose unbidden in his heart.

Obviously, even the Daoist's substantial earnings couldn't sustain such enormous expenses. Steward Gao brought the account books specifically for Yuan Shuzhi to verify against Australian accounting standards, particularly to expose falsified entries and suspicious discrepancies.

This was easy work for Yuan Shuzhi after his intensive training. Originally, his knowledge of Australian accounting had been superficial—enough to pass a certification exam, nothing more. But working on accounts day and night had sharpened his skills considerably. Within three to five days, he'd identified hundreds of ghost positions on the payrolls and compiled a list of dozens of obvious inflations, fabrications, and contradictions across various expense categories. The total came to over two thousand yuan.

When this figure emerged, the Daoist's expression turned grave. He summoned Yuan Shuzhi specifically to ask whether there might be any errors.

Yuan Shuzhi then walked him through his audit methodology and the suspicious entries, one by one. His explanations were logical, his reasoning airtight. Daoist Wood Stone listened in silence for a long while. Finally, he asked:

"Mr. Shu, if everything were fully investigated, roughly how much would be falsely claimed?"

"If thoroughly verified, out of nearly thirty thousand in monthly expenses, perhaps ten thousand is fraudulent." Yuan Shuzhi kept his voice low.

"That much!" The Daoist exclaimed involuntarily, then caught himself. After a moment's thought, he asked, "Does Mister have any method to curb these false claims?"

"This..." Yuan Shuzhi feigned difficulty, bowing his head in extended thought before answering. "This student has never served in the army and knows nothing of military stratagems. However, as long as account books are submitted for verification, most irregularities can be detected."

"It seems that is the only way." Daoist Wood Stone sighed deeply. "I never expected Australian bookkeeping methods to be so effective! Alas, what a pity!"

He added, "Mr. Shu possesses genuine talent in finance. I shall need Mister's assistance extensively in the future."

"Yes, this student will serve with all his might." Yuan Shuzhi bowed deeply.

Back in the accountant's quarters, he nearly laughed aloud.

So much for your black money! So much for rebelling against the 'Kun' to restore the Ming! He gloated inwardly as he worked through the accounts.

Though he'd never served in the army, he'd heard plenty about military affairs. He knew that pay was where problems festered most readily. Whether court mandarins or the Emperor himself, all tacitly tolerated various forms of corruption and inflated rosters in the military.

This Daoist is a novice, Yuan Shuzhi thought. Rebellion and warfare mean asking men to risk their necks. The recruits are rogues, vagabonds, bandits, and thieves—what loyalty could such men possess? They're held together by money alone. Once you start scrutinizing their purses, they'll make trouble immediately. And then where will your rebellion be?

So he threw himself into auditing with renewed vigor, fussing over every last coin. He listed not only obvious frauds and inflations but every entry that raised the slightest suspicion. His work ethic was that of a model employee.

Daoist Wood Stone praised him effusively, summoning him multiple times for commendations and rewarding him with money on several occasions. Though Yuan Shuzhi was undercover, he was always pleased to have his work appreciated by a superior.

But this satisfaction proved fleeting. The more he learned, the more precarious his position became. Escape was impossible. Security here was even tighter than at the Jubao Hall, with information flowing neither in nor out. During his spare time, he couldn't wander freely—even lingering in the courtyard too long brought someone to "suggest" he return inside. He remained confined to his room, day after day: processing accounts, auditing ledgers, transcribing reports, writing summaries.

As he sank deeper into the operation, he came to grasp the true scale of this lurking rebellion. He'd never imagined that barely two years after the Senate had liberated Guangdong, someone could assemble a rebel force of this magnitude—one already poised to strike.

(End of Chapter)