They all stood ramrod straight, not daring to move so much as an inch. It seemed that even if a bug crawled across their faces, none of them would dare swat it away.
Her father’s voice echoed through the grand hall, imposing and solemn.
The Emperor asked, “If a drought were to persist for months, leaving starving corpses scattered across the land, what should be done?”
One of the tribute scholars stepped forward to answer. Though he was terrified and his voice trembled, his words came out clearly.
He said that the granaries should be opened and grain distributed, with wealthy households supporting the poor.
Others said that wells should be dug and water diverted, or canals connected to irrigate the fields.
Still others said that the gods should be worshipped and prayed to.
Rongyao listened with rapt attention.
She secretly glanced toward her father on the dragon throne, eager to hear what he would say.
Yet her father said nothing. His expression remained calm and unreadable. At times he nodded slightly; at others, he made no response at all.
After that came many more questions, and many more answers.
There was much that she did not understand, but she tried hard to commit it all to memory.
At last, her father personally named three men: the top scholar, the second-ranked scholar, and the third-ranked scholar.
Her eyes shone as she looked at the three men standing at the front.
Her eldest uncle was among them.
Her eldest uncle had placed second!
He had been personally named second-ranked scholar by her father.
Though he was not the top scholar, placing second was still very impressive!
“From this day onward, you shall be the backbone of Great Zhou. I hope you will not forget this day, nor lose sight of your original aspirations—to serve the people, to serve all under Heaven…”
After her father finished speaking, he dismissed the newly successful scholars from the hall.
Then her father rose as well.
He headed toward the rear hall.
Rongyao hurriedly scrambled to her feet to leave, but alas, she was already too late.
Her father caught her red-handed.
Dantai Ji, clad in his dragon robe, was making his way toward the rear hall, preparing to leave.
As he drew near, he saw a little figure clambering up from the floor in a fluster, grinning sheepishly at him.
Dantai Ji froze.
He truly had not expected Yaoyao to be here.
Rongyao dusted herself off, then trotted up to her father ingratiatingly and tugged at his dragon robe.
“Father, you looked so majestic today! Is this a dragon? What a huge dragon!”
Dantai Ji scooped Rongyao into his arms and helplessly pinched her little cheek.
“How did you end up here?”
Rongyao said, “Yaoyao heard Grand Tutor say that today was the palace examination, and that the best scholars in all the realm would be here. Yaoyao is a scholar too, so Yaoyao wanted to come and see.”
Her father was amused by her silly, childish words.
He had wanted to say: How many books have you even read? Even if you are a scholar, there is no need for you to take the palace examination. Besides, you are a little girl—when you grow up, you will not need any of this.
But as he looked at his daughter’s innocent, guileless face, he could not bring himself to say such things.
Instead, he simply held her and asked, “Did you see enough?”
Rongyao nodded eagerly. “Mm-hmm! Yaoyao saw it all! But of everyone in there, Father was the most handsome!”
Dantai Ji was greatly pleased. Pinching her cheek again, he asked, “And what about your eldest uncle?”
Rongyao replied, “Father looks like Yaoyao, so Father is still better-looking.”
At Rongyao’s words, Dantai Ji burst into hearty laughter and carried his daughter away from the Golden Throne Hall.
Along the way, Rongyao tugged at her father’s sleeve and asked curiously, “Father, if there truly were a drought lasting for months, and the people’s crops all failed, how should it be handled?”
This was the only one of all her questions that she had understood.
A drought meant there was no rain. Without rain, the crops in the fields would not grow. Without grain, people would go hungry.
But what could be done if there was no grain? Going hungry was terrible.
Dantai Ji paused, looking at his daughter in surprise. “Yaoyao actually understands that? But this is something we ministers of the court must consider. You are a princess; there is no need for you to worry about such matters.”
Rongyao frowned and asked in confusion, “Why not? Aren’t I a princess appointed by Father Emperor? I am the Great Zhou’s princess. How can I simply watch the people of Great Zhou go hungry?”
Dantai Ji felt his chest constrict, then fill with a warm rush of emotion. Look at that! This was his princess! So young, yet already possessed of such love for her country and its people!
“Then what does Yaoyao think should be done if there truly were a drought lasting month after month, the harvest failed, and the people had too little to eat?”
Rongyao tilted her head. “Why would one year of crop failure leave the people without enough to eat? Don’t they have stored grain?”
Dantai Ji went rigid, his eyes filled with shock.
Yes—why?
Why would the people be unable to survive after only one poor harvest? Did they have no grain stored away?
Why did the people of his Great Zhou have no reserves?
Was it because of taxes? Because crop yields were too low? Or for some other reason...?
Yet this had always been the case throughout history. When the years were unkind—when droughts and floods came—the people went hungry. The historical records even stated that the capital of the previous dynasty had suffered flooding for two years; all the crops had been destroyed, and the people had exchanged their children for food.
Could it be that, should such a disaster strike again, the people of Great Zhou would suffer the same fate?
Rongyao tugged at the dragon-patterned sleeve of her father’s robes. “Even Father Emperor has no solution?”
A trace of bitterness flashed through Dantai Ji’s eyes. “This is a problem that has confounded people for hundreds, even thousands, of years. For now... Father has no solution either.”
Rongyao tapped her little head, as though thinking hard. Then her eyes suddenly lit up.
“Yaoyao thinks we could build one very, very long river, bringing water from places with too much of it to places with too little. Then we would not need to fear droughts, nor floods. Both problems could be solved!”
Dantai Ji’s eyes were full of astonishment and disbelief.
He stared fixedly at Rongyao.
A problem that so many court officials had failed to resolve—his daughter had thought of the answer just like that.
Yes. Digging canals to connect the rivers was indeed an excellent idea. The Southern River region received heavy rains year-round, while the Northern River region suffered from constant drought. If the waters of the two regions could be connected, it would benefit countless generations to come.
But it would require enormous labor and expense. The people might condemn him as a tyrant.
“Does Father Emperor think Yaoyao is wrong?” Rongyao asked.
Dantai Ji patted his daughter’s back reassuringly, helplessness flickering in his eyes. “To exhaust the people and squander wealth is not the act of an enlightened ruler.”
Rongyao tilted her head in confusion. “Father Emperor can pay them. Give silver to the people who dig the great river, and provide food and drink for those doing the work. Why would they be unwilling?”
Dantai Ji’s face was filled with guilt.
“Great Zhou has no money.”
Rongyao said, “Then go make money! Make lots and lots of money! We can earn it from wealthy merchants, from the ministers, and even from other countries! Gather all that money and bring it to you, Father. Then you’ll have the funds to pay the people digging the canals. Once the people are paid, they can buy food and won’t have to go hungry! The money they spend will eventually find its way back into your hands, and you can think of ways to earn it again and give it back to the people... And so the cycle continues. The people will have money to live on, and you’ll have money to dig canals and build roads! Everyone will be able to live well!”
Dantai Ji stared blankly at his young daughter in his arms, feeling as though the tiny child he held were a massive nugget of gold.
How could such a small head contain the ability to sort through matters so complicated—matters that no one else could make sense of?
His Princess Fuxi was truly a gift from heaven!
The conversation between Rongyao and her father was overheard not only by Eunuch Wang Zhong, who stood nearby, but also by the Grand Secretary and the Minister of Personnel. The two had just left the main hall and were preparing to seek the emperor’s advice about the list of newly successful candidates who would remain in the capital.
The two white-haired elders exchanged a glance, and each saw indescribable shock in the other’s eyes.
Grand Secretary Zhang Jianming: “Th-then... who is that little girl?”
Minister of Personnel Feng Zhiyi stared fixedly ahead. “It seems... it seems to be a princess.”
Grand Secretary Zhang Jianming: “A princess? Princess Shengping?”
