Huo Tingshan’s visit to Pei Ying’s chamber was not solely to check on her condition—he had another matter in mind.
Terraced fields.
After his wife discussed the "Youzhou Strategy" with him the previous night, the idea of terraced fields had lingered in his thoughts. However, since she was occupied with funeral arrangements during the day, Huo Tingshan believed he could patiently wait until evening.
What he never expected was that she would flee without a word.
The last person who betrayed him had died without a whole corpse, and now the weeds on their grave stood three feet high. Though his wife’s actions couldn’t be called "betrayal," they still felt like a rejection of his goodwill.
He couldn’t bring himself to strike her when she was brought back, nor did he deign to scold a woman. Outwardly, he appeared calm, but only Huo Tingshan knew how unsettled he truly felt. Yet, to his surprise, she brought up the topic of terraced fields herself.
Pei Ying didn’t notice the fleeting shift in Huo Tingshan’s expression—her mind was preoccupied with the concept of terraced fields.
Terraced fields first appeared during the Qin dynasty, originating in Longsheng County, located in the southern region of Guangxi. Though their history seemed ancient, it wasn’t until the Tang and Song dynasties that they were widely developed. Due to climatic differences, southern terraced fields differed from northern ones—southern fields were primarily paddy fields, while northern ones were dry terraces, with distinct variations in cultivation methods, layout, materials, and yield.
Huo Tingshan set aside his earlier indifference. "I remember the term 'terraced fields.' Please elaborate."
Pei Ying nodded. "General, farming isn’t limited to plains—it can also be done in mountainous regions. By dividing the land into layered steps, like a ladder, a vast area can be broken into smaller, manageable plots."
To Huo Tingshan, "terraced fields" were an entirely novel concept. Like most people of his time, he believed farming could only be done on flat land—just as carts required oxen or horses to move, never imagining a day when they might move on their own.
"The selection of terraced field sites requires careful consideration. Steep or excessively high mountains are unsuitable. Ideally, they should follow contour lines along hills or slopes..." Pei Ying paused.
Contour lines—this era likely had no such concept yet.
"General, I’ll need some paper and ink." Before she finished speaking, the man beside her called out to Xin Jin outside to fetch writing materials.
Once the order was given, Huo Tingshan turned his deep gaze back to Pei Ying, only to see the beautiful woman point a slender, pale finger at the meal before them. "Leaving these here would be inconvenient. They should be cleared away later."
Huo Tingshan saw right through her little scheme—she simply didn’t want to eat.
He moved the dishes aside. Pei Ying assumed he was waiting for Xin Jin to return so they could be taken away, but when Xin Jin arrived with the ink and brush, Huo Tingshan said nothing further, merely grinding the ink for her.
After a brief hesitation, Pei Ying decided the matter at hand was more pressing. Dipping the brush into ink, she began sketching.
With a few swift strokes, she outlined a hilly landscape. As she drew, she explained, "High fields resemble staircases, flat fields resemble chessboards. Cutting terraces into these slopes optimizes rainwater usage and maximizes land efficiency. Terraced fields can be categorized into four types: level terraces, interval-slope terraces, reverse-slope terraces, and slope-style terraces. The choice depends on local conditions."
She illustrated each type one by one.
Huo Tingshan watched the drawings intently.
For years, he had exhausted every means to sustain his troops, even resorting to "redistributing wealth" from merchants to compensate for the court’s complete halt of military provisions to Youzhou.
One could infer the whole from a single detail. Though the diagram before him was nothing more than a thin sheet of paper, lighter than half a string of coins when folded, Huo Tingshan knew its value was immeasurable.
Grain was paramount. Without enough food, soldiers would go hungry. Hunger led to low morale and emaciation—how could such troops ever become a formidable army?
In short, without money or grain, raising an army was impossible.
Unaware of the storm in Huo Tingshan’s mind, Pei Ying meticulously completed the four types of terraced fields and explained key points and precautions. When she finished, the room fell silent, leaving only the sound of their interwoven breaths.
The lamp by the low table cast its glow, stretching their shadows across the floor until they nearly touched.
Pei Ying stole a glance at Huo Tingshan. The sharp angles of his face were softened by the lamplight, though his usual severity and imposing presence still inspired awe.
Then, the corners of his lips lifted, dissolving his intimidating aura. "The 'terraced fields' you speak of are remarkable. Such ingenuity is unheard of. Do you know their worth? Why share this with me so freely?"
Pei Ying lowered her voice. "In times of war, children are bartered for food, and bones are split for fuel. Starving corpses litter the land, and 'human markets' flourish. Few are spared the cruelty of fate, yet vultures are never late to feast. Since ancient times, policies have been implemented from the top down. As the ruler of Youzhou, holding its authority, if terraced fields can help the people eat a few more mouthfuls—perhaps even fill their homes with surplus grain—why wouldn’t I share this with you?"
Aside from her desire to alleviate the suffering of the people in this era, Pei Ying also had her own motives. Her daughter had just berated this man, and she feared he might retaliate.
Under the lamplight, her skin glowed like snow, her beauty radiant. Yet for the first time, Huo Tingshan found her compassionate eyes even more captivating. She had never witnessed such hardships firsthand—her gaze was too clear for that—yet she seemed to understand everything, acutely aware of the struggles of the lowest classes, unlike the high-ranking officials in Chang’an, so detached from reality they might naively ask, 'Why not eat meat?'
Huo Tingshan straightened. "Your kindness and wisdom are a blessing. On behalf of Youzhou’s people, I thank you."
Pei Ying dismissed the gratitude.
"Did you learn about 'human markets' from books?" Huo Tingshan abruptly changed the subject.
Pei Ying nodded reflexively—it was indeed from books, complete with black-and-white illustrations.
"And the terraced fields? Also from books?"
Pei Ying began to nod again but caught herself, quickly shaking her head. "A celestial being revealed it to me in a dream."
Huo Tingshan arched a brow. "Did this celestial being mention anything else?"
Pei Ying’s words came faster. "Not for now."
Silence filled the room once more. Pei Ying clenched her fingers nervously, fearing he might suspect her of withholding information and resort to torture.
But after a long pause, she only heard the man beside her chuckle softly. "You seldom speak truthfully with me."
Pei Ying turned to him, brows furrowed in defiance, ready to argue—only to see Huo Tingshan retrieve the bowl of congee from the side and place it before her again. "The evening isn’t too cold, and the meal is still warm. You should eat."
Pei Ying still had no appetite. If she had been hungry, she would have eaten earlier, but now the food had been brought back to her. She offered a casual excuse, "I’m not hungry yet. I’ll eat later. If you have urgent matters to attend to, General, there’s no need to trouble yourself with me."
Huo Tingshan raised a brow—this was clearly a dismissal. The man remained seated, his fingers tapping lightly on the table. "Very well. Since you’re not hungry, we can delay the meal. But now, let’s discuss your sudden departure without a word."
Pei Ying froze.
Huo Tingshan reached out and twirled a loose strand of her dark hair between his fingers, his sharp eyes glinting with meaning. "Why do you look so surprised? Did you think your unannounced departure with your daughter would simply be forgotten?"
Pei Ying’s lashes fluttered slightly as she murmured, "I… suddenly feel a bit hungry."
Huo Tingshan released her hair and pushed two additional side dishes toward her. "If you’re hungry, then eat. Other matters can wait."
Pei Ying quickly added, "I eat very slowly. Your time is precious, General. Perhaps you should attend to your duties first."
She remembered how swiftly he had left after obtaining the designs for the high-bridge saddle and stirrups, without so much as a word. Why was he still here now?
Huo Tingshan seemed to read her thoughts. "Terraced fields aren’t as urgent as stirrups. Crafting the saddle and stirrups couldn’t wait, but cultivating terraces will take months—one night’s delay changes nothing. Since I have time now, I ought to keep my wife company, lest she find the magistrate’s residence too dull and decide to seek entertainment elsewhere with her daughter."
Pei Ying paused, deliberately ignoring his last remark. She glanced around and realized that, though the layout resembled her previous room, this wasn’t the same one.
"General, I’d prefer to return to my own room to eat," she said, eager to leave.
Huo Tingshan tapped the table firmly with his finger. "Your daughter is of age now. If she clings to her mother, how will she ever learn independence? Let her stay there alone. Until we leave Beichuan County, this will be your new quarters. I’ll be next door—if you need anything, you may come find me anytime."
Pei Ying was stunned. He had moved her room—and he was staying next to her?
She refused to accept it, frowning in protest. "There’s no need for this, General. My daughter has just lost her father. As her mother, I should be there to comfort her."
Huo Tingshan’s tone was calm but firm. "Madam, this isn’t a discussion."
Pei Ying’s face flushed with anger. How tyrannical! Her daughter was right—he was a brute, the worst kind of barbarian.
"Are you cursing me in your heart?" Huo Tingshan arched a brow.
Pei Ying’s pulse jumped. She immediately denied it. Huo Tingshan gestured to the food before her. "Will you eat, or shall I—"
Before he could finish, Pei Ying picked up her spoon. Huo Tingshan chuckled softly but said no more, letting her take her time with the porridge.
He sat beside her, propping his chin on his hand as he watched her. She ate painstakingly slowly, chewing each bite meticulously, stirring the porridge idly as if it were still scalding hot, only taking a small spoonful after an eternity.
Huo Tingshan glanced at her bowl—such a meager portion. Any soldier under his command could finish it in one breath without a hiccup. Yet he didn’t rush her, letting her drag out the meal.
Pei Ying thought, "Flavorless" must describe this exact feeling. Though the man beside her stayed silent, his presence was overwhelming. She knew he was watching her, sensing the shifts in his gaze—sometimes calm, merely observing, but other times sharp with that predatory intensity that made her heart race. Thankfully, the former prevailed, allowing her to endure the meal.
Two side dishes and a bowl of meat porridge took Pei Ying over half an hour to finish. Only after emptying the bowl and one plate of scrambled eggs did she set down her chopsticks.
She glanced at the darkening sky outside and made to rise. "It’s getting late, General. You should retire early. I’ll also—"
Midway up, her wrist was caught in a firm grip. His hand was rough and scorching, like a red-hot shackle clamping around her skin, pulling her back down.
"One shouldn’t sleep right after a meal. Stay and talk with me awhile."
Pei Ying instinctively held her breath.
The words were casual, yet she sensed the storm brewing beneath them.
