The next morning, before the sky was fully light, the camp was already bustling with activity.
The field cooks had set up large cauldrons at the edge of the camp, cooking porridge. Cooking smoke mingled with the morning mist, curling upward and spreading beneath the low-hanging clouds.
In the distance, toward the prefectural city still besieged by floodwaters, the boatmen were already at work. The rhythmic sound of poles striking water drifted over with the wind, one stroke after another, like the simplest rhythm of the dawn.
Pei Cijing had risen early.
To be precise.
He had been woken by the commotion outside his tent.
The soldiers of the Third Thousand Camp had formed ranks for morning drill, and the steady tramp of boots and the sound of commands rose and fell without pause. Sleeping in was simply out of the question.
He rubbed his eyes and sat up, only to find that the spot beside him was already empty.
Pei Cijing threw on his outer robe.
Pushed aside the tent flap, and stepped outside.
The morning light made him squint slightly. The tents in the camp gleamed a pale gray in the dawn, like a cluster of mushrooms sprouting after rain.
The air was thick with the smell of damp earth and the smoke of wood fire.
Mixed together.
It wasn't unpleasant, all things considered.
He glanced around and spotted Shen Ninghuan approaching from the direction of the kitchen, carrying a tray with two bowls of hot porridge, a dish of pickled vegetables, and several flatbreads. The morning light fell upon her plain clothes, tinging the thin layer of mist around her with a pale gold glow.
Pei Cijing leaned against the tent post.
Arms crossed.
Watching his wife play the part of the diligent housewife, he couldn't help the smile that crept onto his lips.
"Awake?" Shen Ninghuan walked up and gave him a once-over. "Put your clothes on properly. Don't catch a chill. Have breakfast first."
Pei Cijing looked down at the loosely draped outer robe he was wearing, chuckled in acknowledgment, took the tray, and turned back into the tent to dress properly, then washed up briefly.
After that, he and Shen Ninghuan had breakfast together, and then made their way toward the main command tent.
To report for duty.
The tent flap was pushed open, and Li Chengyu was already inside.
He sat behind a long table, several documents spread before him, a brush in hand, reviewing them. Hearing footsteps, he looked up and gave the two of them a slight nod, gesturing for them to sit.
"Compiler Pei, is something the matter?" He set down his brush and leaned back in his chair, his gaze settling on Pei Cijing's face.
Pei Cijing produced a neatly folded document from his sleeve and presented it with both hands. "Your Highness, this is a proposal I drafted last night. Please take a look."
Li Chengyu accepted the document, unfolded it, and began scanning from the first line downward.
Pei Cijing stood by, waiting.
The tent fell silent for a moment, broken only by the faint rustle of paper turning.
Li Chengyu read carefully—not the sort of cursory glance one gives in passing, but line by line, pausing occasionally at a particular passage as if mulling something over.
What Pei Cijing had written was clear enough.
In the mountainous terrain northwest of Yunyang Prefecture, a cement workshop was to be established. Materials would be sourced locally, and disaster victims would be recruited to take part in quarrying, firing, and transport. The cement produced would be used for levee repair, road construction, and housing, with any surplus sold to the public.
At the end, he had appended a rough accounting, estimating the workshop's input, output, and returns. The figures weren't precise, but the overall ledger was clear.
Li Chengyu finished reading the last page, set the document on the table, and tapped his fingers lightly on the paper.
He didn't speak immediately.
Cement.
Of course, he knew about it.
Pei Cijing had presented the cement formula, and his father had handed it over to the imperial household to manage. This wasn't exactly a secret in the court, and as a prince, he naturally paid attention to matters of such great benefit to the nation.
That said, the promotion of cement was no overnight task.
The formula was good, but moving it from that small experimental plot in the capital to the various prefectures of the Great Qian Empire required time, silver, manpower, and material investment. It had to be done step by step—there was no rushing it.
And to establish a cement workshop in Yunyang, combining post-disaster reconstruction with cement production—that was a solid idea.
There was no need for Pei Cijing to explain it at length. Li Chengyu had already grasped the brilliance of it on his own.
The disaster victims needed to be settled.
They couldn't simply rely on the court to feed them indefinitely.
Giving them a meal and a job—letting them earn their keep with dignity while contributing to reconstruction—that was the very essence of the work-relief method.
But the real genius of Pei Cijing's proposal was that he had turned "labor" into "output."
Levee repair, road building, house construction—these were all undertakings with input but no return. The court paid silver, the people supplied the labor, and when the work was done, the silver was spent, and nothing was left behind.
But a cement workshop was different.
The cement produced could be sold.
The cement sold could be converted back into silver.
With silver, the workshop could keep operating, keep recruiting disaster victims, keep producing—forming a self-sustaining industrial chain.
For the court, this lightened the fiscal burden. For the people, it opened up a new avenue of livelihood.
"Compiler Pei's proposal is quite good," he said, his voice not loud, but carrying a note of firm approval. "If the cement workshop can be established, it will indeed resolve the livelihood problems of many disaster victims."
He paused, a flicker crossing his gaze, then added, "And not just cement. By the same principle, other industries that require substantial labor could be considered as well."
"Not limited to cement alone—anything that can absorb disaster victims is worth contemplating."
Pei Cijing nodded slightly, inwardly impressed.
The Sixth Prince was indeed a shrewd man. Without needing the full explanation, he could extrapolate on his own—that saved a great deal of breath.
"Your Highness sees clearly," Pei Cijing said, cupping his hands. "That is exactly what I was thinking. Cement is only one option. If further survey reveals other usable resources in the area, workshops could be established accordingly."
Li Chengyu nodded, set the document aside, and placed it at the corner of the table.
"Allow me to think on this. After the on-site survey, if conditions prove suitable, we will proceed with implementation."
He looked up, shifting his gaze from Pei Cijing to Shen Ninghuan, his tone growing more serious, carrying a note of careful deliberation.
"Miss Shen, is there progress on the case?"
Shen Ninghuan rose, offered a bow, then produced a folded note from her sleeve and presented it with both hands.
"Your Highness, these are some leads I obtained yesterday from Zhao Wenhuan. They don't constitute conclusive evidence, but there are certain irregularities that I felt you should know about."
Li Chengyu accepted the note and unfolded it.
Shen Ninghuan stood to the side, recounting in detail the information she had drawn out of Zhao Wenhuan the previous day, with particular emphasis on Chen Qiming's strange behavior and the suspicious nature of Baiyun Abbey.
Li Chengyu placed the note on the table.
He didn't speak right away.
His gaze dropped slightly as he digested the information.
"Baiyun Abbey," he murmured, repeating the name with an unreadable tone.
That name wasn't new to him.
The Baiyun Abbey of Beihe.
It ranked among the most prominent establishments in the entire Great Qian Empire's circles of Daoist cultivation.
It was said that the incense at the temple burned exceptionally bright, with believers spread across every prefecture in Beihe. Each year, no small number of people made the journey from afar specifically to offer incense and pray for blessings.
What was even more telling was the deeply intertwined relationship between Baiyun Temple and the officialdom and great clans of Beihe. The bonds ran deep and tangled.
Many officials' wives maintained connections with the temple, visiting during festivals to contribute oil money and request peace amulets. Some noble families even regarded Baiyun Temple as a "blessed ground," inviting the temple's abbots to inspect and divine for matters of marriage, funerals, house-building, and other major events.
Li Chengyu asked, "Miss Shen's meaning is that Chen Qiming's dramatic change in temperament is connected to Baiyun Temple?"
Shen Ninghuan paused for a moment, weighing her words carefully: "This wife would not dare to make hasty conclusions. Only that the timing of Chen Qiming's transformation roughly coincides with when he began visiting Baiyun Temple. He goes once every month, and upon returning, he can remain 'calm' for a few days."
"This wife feels that there may be something suspicious in all of this."
Li Chengyu nodded slightly.
The words made sense.
It wasn't that he didn't believe in metaphysics — there were indeed things in this world beyond his understanding — but could the abbot of a Taoist temple truly be more effective than an imperial physician? More efficacious than those prescriptions meant to soothe the mind and spirit?
If such abilities truly existed.
Then so be it.
What was feared was that behind this "efficacy" lay something else entirely.
"Baiyun Temple holds great prestige in Beihe," Li Chengyu said, his tone unhurried, as if stating a widely known fact. "They regularly aid the poor and destitute, distributing porridge and medicine, and their reputation is excellent. They also maintain relations with many officials and noble families throughout Beihe."
"When the Yunyang dike breached this time, Baiyun Temple was the first to donate money and supplies, inspiring a great many others to follow. The relief goods that arrived were real and tangible — the common folk saw it with their own eyes and remembered it in their hearts."
"At this very moment, Baiyun Temple's prestige is at its zenith."
Shen Ninghuan listened, her expression gradually growing more serious.
She understood what Li Chengyu meant.
At this time, Baiyun Temple was "the good people," "the benefactors," "the saviors" who had extended a helping hand during a great calamity. The common folk were grateful to them, the gentry sang their praises, and even the court had to credit them for their merits.
At a moment like this.
If they launched a grand, conspicuous investigation into Baiyun Temple.
Regardless of whether anything was discovered, the mere rumor that "the Sixth Prince has sent people to investigate Baiyun Temple" would be enough to chill the hearts of the people of Beihe.
They had just donated grain and money.
Rescued the disaster victims.
And now you come to investigate them the next day? Isn't that returning kindness with enmity?
The common folk wouldn't think about Chen Qiming, or corruption cases, or any suspicious goings-on. They would only see what was most superficial and obvious.
Li Chengyu didn't need to spell it out — Shen Ninghuan understood this reasoning as well.
Li Chengyu leaned back in his chair, lowering his voice: "Furthermore, there's another layer. The corruption case is most likely connected to Sun Youde, the Administrative Commissioner."
"If Baiyun Temple truly has Sun Youde's shadow behind it, even if we manage to find evidence, there's a chance they'll turn it around and accuse us of fabrication."
The words were blunt.
Pei Cijing had been standing to one side, not interjecting, but now he nodded slightly.
The Sixth Prince's concerns were not unfounded.
Sun Youde was the Administrative Commissioner of Beihe. In this patch of land, he had operated for so many years that his protégés and connections spanned every prefecture. His network ran deep, and his foundations were thick.
Not something a few outsiders like them could compare to in this place.
If Baiyun Temple was his "territory," then most of the people up and down the temple were likely his men. The moment you stepped in to investigate, word would reach his ears.
At that point, whether or not evidence could be found was secondary — even if it was found, the other side could easily bite back, claiming: You are the Sixth Prince's men. The Sixth Prince and the Eighth Prince are fighting for the succession.
This is an excuse to suppress the Eighth Prince's maternal relatives.
Fabrication and false accusation!
At that point, could the matter ever be sorted out?
"Therefore, it must be investigated with the utmost discretion." Li Chengyu reached his conclusion, his tone carrying a resolute certainty that admitted no argument.
Li Chengyu leaned back in his chair again, closing his eyes for a moment, as if mulling something over.
After a long while, he opened his eyes, his gaze falling upon Pei Cijing and Shen Ninghuan, his expression softer than before.
"Since that's the case—" he began, his tone measured, "I have an idea."
Pei Cijing inclined his body slightly, adopting a posture of attentive listening.
"You two will visit the abbot of Baiyun Temple on my behalf," Li Chengyu said, slowly, as if weighing the import of every word. "To express gratitude for the good deeds he has done for the disaster-stricken people. I cannot easily leave my post here. You two will observe a three-day fast at Baiyun Temple on my behalf, offering incense and prayers for the disaster victims."
The words carried no particular weight, with that same matter-of-fact official tone, but to Pei Cijing and Shen Ninghuan, they meant something entirely different.
The two exchanged a glance.
The corner of Pei Cijing's mouth twitched slightly, and Shen Ninghuan's eyes flickered. Though Li Chengyu had barely explained, they both grasped the deeper implication.
On the surface, the two were going to Baiyun Temple on behalf of the Sixth Prince, visiting the abbot and offering incense and prayers.
As spoken.
No one could find any fault.
The Sixth Prince was busy with disaster relief and couldn't get away, so he sent his people to observe a fast at Baiyun Temple and pray for the safety of the disaster victims. This was a good deed, a charitable act, put on display for the people to see.
What others would see was the Sixth Prince trying to curry favor, using Baiyun Temple's prestige to win a good reputation among the common folk of Beihe.
That was perfectly reasonable.
A prince with ambitions for the succession would naturally do such a thing at a time like this. Nothing could be more normal.
But only the few of them knew that the truest purpose behind this action was —
To investigate Baiyun Temple.
Pei Cijing withdrew his gaze, looked at Li Chengyu, clasped his hands in salute, and bowed: "Your subordinate understands."
Shen Ninghuan also rose and gave a proper bow: "This wife understands."
Li Chengyu nodded at the two.
He did not elaborate further. Some things needed no saying — a hint was enough. This husband and wife were both clever people. Words spoken to this extent were already sufficient.
"Then it's settled." He waved his hand. "Pack what you need, take some people, and set out today."
Pei Cijing acknowledged the order and led Shen Ninghuan out of the main tent.
The two returned to their own tent, packed a few changes of clothes, and placed necessary documents and case files into a rattan trunk.
Once everything was in order.
Pei Cijing helped Shen Ninghuan into the carriage, mounted a horse himself, and led the party along the official road northwest toward Baiyun Temple.
...
Two and a half days later.
Noon.
The party finally arrived at Baiyun Temple.
The carriage came to a stop beneath the stone steps outside the mountain gate. Pei Cijing dismounted, raised his head, and gazed at the imposing temple built into the mountainside, narrowing his eyes slightly.
Baiyun Temple sat on a hillside, constructed along the contours of the terrain in layers, its halls lofty and magnificent.
Blue stone steps stretched from the foot of the mountain all the way to the mountain gate. Ancient trees rose on either side, their branches blotting out the sky and casting the afternoon sunlight into a patchwork of fine dappled shadows upon the damp stone steps.
The mountain gate was built of stone, with a stone tablet embedded above the lintel, carved with three large characters — "Baiyun Temple" — strokes forceful and vigorous, cut deep into the stone.
Flanking the gate stood two stone beasts, their features worn somewhat indistinct by the years and the elements, yet still exuding an air of solemn dignity.
The air was thick with the scent of incense, mingling with the fresh fragrance of mountain vegetation—a refreshing, soothing blend.
Pei Cijing drew in a deep breath.
This place... it actually looked quite fitting for the purpose.
