Using food and military might to intimidate the Eastern Lin Kingdom was unreliable—food supplies could run short, and military strength could wane. But building a dam and reservoir to control the water sources within Eastern Lin’s borders? That would be the most unshakable chain around its neck.
If Eastern Lin dared ally with Southern Chu, their water would be cut off.
Li Yuanjing was immensely pleased and patted his son’s head. "Truly my son."
Li Chengtai secretly curled his lips in a small, proud smile. Being acknowledged by his father filled him with quiet excitement.
Inside the hall, Yang Xuanji was shocked. He quickly kowtowed and pleaded, "Your Majesty, reconsider! This method is too ruthless! Da Qing is a land of propriety—how can we resort to such cruelty?"
Li Yuanjing’s voice was low and firm. "A century ago, when Da Qing was newly founded, Eastern Lin repeatedly invaded, bringing misery to our people. Our ancestors fought for decades just to push them back to the coast. A petty kingdom like that must never be left as a threat."
Li Yuanjing had grown up in military camps, trained in both literature and martial arts. Since ascending the throne, he had carefully maintained a balance between civil officials and military generals.
He knew better than to favor scholars over warriors—generals and armies were the core force that safeguarded the nation.
A land of propriety? For disobedient little kingdoms, the only proper response was to grab a club—
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Beat them into submission first, then talk about propriety.
Li Chengtai nodded eagerly in agreement with his father, muttering under his breath, "Mother told me—cats see only mice, butchers see only pork, merchants see only goods, and emperors see the world. Where you stand changes what you see. Sir, you’re a scholar—your eyes are fixed on poetry and morality. Of course you can’t see what Father sees."
Yang Xuanji stiffened, rooted to the spot.
After decades of scholarly pursuits, he prided himself on his vast knowledge. Many civil officials in court were his disciples. He had always looked down on military men, dismissing them as crude and uncultured.
Yet now, a mere child had made him feel small.
Yang Xuanji lifted his head and gazed at the imperial father and son seated on the dragon throne.
The throne exuded overwhelming authority, its presence domineering.
His heart churned with turmoil, but in the end, he kowtowed once more. "This old minister... takes his leave."
Yang Xuanji departed from Chang’an Palace.
As noon approached, the heat slowly thickened. Yang Xuanji walked unsteadily down the long palace corridor.
Before long, he heard Li Chengtai’s young voice calling from behind. The boy jogged to catch up. "Sir, let me escort you out of the palace."
Yang Xuanji was taken aback. "I reprimanded you, yet you still wish to see me off?"
Li Chengtai lifted his small face, his eyes sincere. "One thing doesn’t affect the other. Even if we disagree, you’re still wise and learned. Mother says we mustn’t dismiss a person entirely just because of their flaws."
No gold is pure, no man is perfect.
Yang Xuanji fell silent.
He left the palace with heavy steps, his mind burdened as he boarded his carriage. The wheels rolled over the pavement, carrying him away through the city gates.
As the carriage moved through the bustling streets of Yanjing, Yang Xuanji clutched an unfinished ancient text, still ruminating on Li Chengtai’s words. Outside, a vendor’s cry suddenly pierced the air—
"Fresh pork for sale! Slaughtered today, tender and juicy!"
Yang Xuanji’s chest tightened. He lifted the carriage curtain. A butcher shouted his wares on the street; a plump tabby cat crouched near the stall, eyes fixed on the meat; an elderly woman sat by the roadside, sorting vegetables...
Common folk, cats and dogs—none of them cared for propriety or rules. They were all just struggling to survive.
Yang Xuanji let the curtain fall and glanced again at the yellowed book in his hand.
After decades of scholarship, a rare uncertainty crept into his heart.
...
Summer was approaching, and the temperature steadily rose.
Near midday, Shen Wei arrived at Cining Palace with a stack of old, tangled account books, seeking the Empress Dowager’s guidance.
The Empress Dowager was restless, frequently sending palace attendants to check on the situation outside the Guangwen Academy.
Shen Wei watched her with amusement. The Empress Dowager resembled a doting parent fretting over a child’s exam results. She reassured her gently, "Mother, we’ve done all we can. The rest is up to fate—no need to worry."
There were plenty of learned scholars besides Yang Xuanji. If he refused to teach, other venerable tutors could take his place.
The Empress Dowager sighed. "Chengtai prepared for days. If he’s turned away, he’ll be heartbroken."
Shen Wei clutched the account books, smiling. "Life is unpredictable. No one sails smoothly forever. A little setback might do Chengtai good."
The Empress Dowager considered her words and found them reasonable.
A child who never faced hardship would grow fragile. Trials tempered resilience.
Most imperial concubines coddled their children like precious jewels—but not Shen Wei. She cared deeply for her three children yet never spoiled them.
In fact, she deliberately exposed them to small challenges, teaching them to solve problems and toughen their spirits.
Setting aside her worries for now, the Empress Dowager studied Shen Wei’s pale face. Managing the palace affairs was no easy task, especially for someone still new to the role.
Shen Wei’s cheeks seemed thinner.
Having once been empress herself, the Empress Dowager understood the burden. She instructed Nanny Qian to bring a bowl of silver ear and red date soup, urging Shen Wei to nourish herself.
"There are a few experienced senior maids in my palace. If you’re overwhelmed, I can have them assist you," the Empress Dowager offered kindly.
Shen Wei drank the soup in one go before replying, "Mother, the beginning is always the hardest. Once I’ve fully grasped the palace affairs, I’ll manage just fine. If I ever face a true dilemma, I’ll come to you for advice."
The Empress Dowager sighed. "Very well. I trust you."
Back when Shen Wei was in the Yan Prince’s estate, she had brought order to its chaos within days. The palace was merely a grander version—nothing she couldn’t handle.
Before long, news arrived from Guangwen Academy.
Yang Xuanji and Li Chengtai had clashed. The old scholar stormed out in anger, first paying respects to Li Yuanjing at Chang’an Palace before finally leaving the imperial grounds.
The Empress Dowager was baffled. "A dispute? How could Chengtai possibly quarrel with Yang Xuanji?"
A man in his seventies, arguing with a four-year-old?
The eunuch delivering the news was equally confused. "Old Master Yang Xuanji’s face was red with fury when he left Guangwen Academy to complain to His Majesty. The Emperor kept the Eighth Prince at Chang’an Palace for a while. By now, His Highness should be returning to Cining Palace. As for the reason behind their disagreement... this servant doesn’t know."
Just then, footsteps echoed at the palace entrance.
Li Chengtai had returned.
Shen Wei beckoned him over. The boy darted into her arms, burying his face against her with a hint of grievance.
She patted his back softly. "What happened between you and Yang Xuanji?"
The Empress Dowager, ever doting, grew indignant at the sight of her grandson’s distress. "Did that old fool say something outrageous?"
