Chapter 33

Shao Qing’s eyes sparkled, and Wei Jing, in high spirits, bowed his head and gently kissed her cheek.

“Go to sleep—it’s late.”

For the past few days, she’d received these goodnight kisses—sometimes lingering, sometimes light—but always just a gentle brush of the lips. Nothing more ever happened.

Shao Qing accepted it well and acted much more naturally. With a soft “mm,” she obediently nestled into his arms and soon fell asleep.

Wei Jing was energetic; he wouldn’t be troubled by staying awake a night or two. Still, he enjoyed the tranquility of lying beside his wife. After gazing at her for a moment, he adjusted the corner of her blanket before closing his eyes.

…

Although she had slept late, Shao Qing couldn’t help but worry about matters concerning Ji Huan and the others. Rising early, she hurriedly washed up and had a light breakfast before heading out in front with Wei Jing.

During the Chen hour, the county office received a letter that a passing merchant caravan had handed over.

Wei Jing said, “My family in Yuzhou will be arriving soon. The letter got delayed on the road, and judging by the dates, they’ll be here in just a few days.”

Zhuang Yan asked, “Why don’t your family escort you and your wife to your new post?”

Shao Qing sighed and replied, “Even though our journey was supposed to be guarded by our family, we unfortunately encountered fierce bandits along the way. In a moment of carelessness—after being dosed—the family guards protecting us both were all sacrificed. With the time for our appointment running short, we had no choice but to set off while still sending word to Yuzhou.”

“I see,” said Zhuang Yan. He suddenly understood. He hadn’t seen Wei Jing take action firsthand, and he didn’t know just how formidable his martial skills really were. Considering that knockout drugs are a common tactic among bandits, a moment’s negligence was entirely understandable—and he, therefore, suspected nothing more.

Kou Xuan wasn’t convinced that Shao Qing was lying—in fact, even if he knew those were false words, he would still take them as true. That is why he, too, wore an expression of lingering fear.

Thus, this matter was properly put on the agenda, waiting only for Ji Huan and the others to arrive.

In the afternoon, Deng Guang came to report that about ten outsiders—former guards from merchant caravans—had come in response to the county’s recruitment drive. They were exceptionally skilled and young, and they could register as residents of Pingtao. He asked whether they could be recruited.

When it came to bolstering the county troops, priority was naturally given to those with local household registration. Pingtao is a large county; recruiting three thousand soldiers should have been a breeze. However, due to Wei Jing’s exceptionally high standards, progress has been slow and the quota remains unfilled.

Seeing these ten or so candidates were imposing, Deng Guang felt reluctant to turn them down, so he came specifically to inquire.

This was exactly what Wei Jing had arranged the previous day. Upon hearing the news, he paused for a moment and said, “Alright.”

He further instructed, “If any more individuals with outstanding qualifications come along, don’t feel constrained by requiring them to have a Pingtao residence.”

Deng Guang happily returned afterward.

Amid her busy official duties, Shao Qing instructed Nanny Ping to sweep and clean the row houses on each side of the back courtyard, preparing them for the arrival tomorrow of Han Xi, Zhang Yong, and others.

Nanny Ping and her grandchildren are servants who Wei Jing personally handpicked. They are native to Pingtao, of unblemished backgrounds and humble origins. Nanny Ping has been a widow for many years; earlier this year, her only son fell ill and passed away, leaving her with only two young grandchildren and a mountain of debt—the value of her few old houses couldn’t even cover the debts, leaving her no choice but to sell herself.

Nanny Ping was actually only in her early forties—modest, honest, and remarkably nimble in her work. Her granddaughter, Chunxi, now twelve, is perfectly suited to serve as Shao Qing’s personal maid, which also caught Wei Jing’s eye. As for her grandson Chunsheng, who is ten this year, he acts as the little errand-runner and, when idle, even assists his grandmother and his elder sister. Though this three-generation group is poor, they are fastidious about cleanliness, and both the old and the young are robust and full of energy. At present, neither Wei Jing nor Shao Qing intends to place too many people in the back courtyard, and this arrangement turns out to be just right.

—

The next day, Ji Huan and the others—having traveled thousands of miles from “Yuzhou”—arrived, accompanied by the families of Zhang Yong and Chen Qi, who had journeyed along with them, as well as a carefully selected group of fifty to sixty “house guards.” Everyone then assembled in the side hall to pay their respects to Wei Jing.

Also present were Kou Xuan and Zhuang Yan, who had come especially since Wei Jing mentioned yesterday that one of the arrivals would be an old retainer—perfectly suited to help ease the county office’s personnel shortage. Since new colleagues were gathering, it was all the more appropriate to pay a visit.

However, the two (Kou Xuan and Zhuang Yan) were greatly astonished upon their first encounter.

The retainer, Ji Huan—just over thirty, with a square jaw and broad mouth—carried himself with calm composure. As for the house guard leaders—Han Xi, Zhang Yong, and Chen Qi—they were variously lean or burly. Although each had a distinct appearance, all possessed striking, bright eyes, and their swift, agile movements suggested they were indeed competent. Though dusty from long travels, these four clearly showed at a glance that they were not the idle, unambitious type.

Behind them stood several dozen houseguards, all brimming with energy and arranged in perfect order, each unmistakably a skilled fighter.

Zhuang Yan sighed, “Judging by the dignified bearing of the county official, I can tell he isn’t from a minor family—indeed, it proves just as expected.”

After all, these several dozen houseguards were not the kind that the minor local gentry could merely produce.

Wei Jing remarked, “My family has fallen hard; it is rather shameful to admit.”

He himself was clearly no ordinary man. Having recently been demoted from the Central Plains to the Southwest, he fabricated the excuse of a declined family fortune—just a few words were enough to let people imagine that both his family and Shao Qing’s had been struck by misfortune as a result of a failed political struggle.

Given that, it was natural that some of his pedigree still remained. Thus, the appearance of Han Xi and his men was not a surprise.

Zhuang Yan smiled and, together with Kou Xuan, quickly stepped forward to exchange formal greetings with the four—that is, with Ji Huan and the three houseguard leaders.

“I am Zhang Gong, courtesy name Boyan; in the future, I shall need much guidance from Wengui and Wenchang.”

The one speaking was Ji Huan, and they were, of course, using the prearranged pseudonyms. Han Xi called himself Xu Xin, Zhang Yong called himself Yan Hua, and Chen Qi called himself Shen Liang.

These four men were variously cheerful, composed, or even rough but straightforward and generous—in any case, they carried themselves with impeccable poise. Their first conversation with the people of Pingtao left a decidedly positive impression.

After a few pleasantries, Zhuang Yan laughed and said, “Another day, we must drink three hundred cups together and have a heart-to-heart conversation.”

“Ah, three hundred cups won’t be enough,” someone remarked.

Zhang Yong laughed, “If we have large bowls, we can drink three hundred bowls!”

Ji Huan shook his head with a smile and added, “Forgive me, but after three hundred bowls, aren’t you afraid your belly might burst?”

Everyone laughed together.

That first meeting was remarkably harmonious. After his laughter subsided, Zhuang Yan turned toward the head of the group, clasping his hands in greeting, and said, “My lord, I still have some urgent official business. Please allow me to take my leave for now.”

Kou Xuan followed right behind him.

Being most considerate, Zhuang Yan and Kou Xuan excused themselves once they saw it was about time so the long-separated parties could converse without interruption.

Wei Jing nodded and said, “Go ahead. I’ve arranged a banquet for tonight—there’s no hurry; we can drink and talk to our hearts’ content then.”

Zhuang Yan, Kou Xuan, and the others soon departed, leaving only his own people in the side hall. Nanny Ping, who was waiting, then escorted the families of Zhang Yong and Chen Qi to settle in at the back.

For the several dozen Qingzhai Guards, Wei Jing casually selected a few to remain, and the rest—with the accompanying orders—went together, as he would make further arrangements later.

This place was open and empty—minor clerks of the law could appear at any moment—so it wasn’t a good place for conversation. Wei Jing stood up and walked outside, with everyone following closely behind him. He went to the outer study and was the first to push open the door and enter.

The four men with Ji Huan followed him. The remaining few Qingzhai Guards skillfully spread out, taking up positions in front of the door and behind the building as silent sentries.

……

While the four men with Ji Huan looked around at their surroundings and followed their master, they deliberately avoided conversation with others. Thus, they weren’t surprised to see him enter the outer study. What did astonish them, however, was that inside this master’s outer study, there was a young woman.

As the door on the other side swung open, Ji Huan stepped in first. From the corner of his eye, he saw a woman dressed in a green robe sitting gracefully behind a desk. She had her eyes lowered and was poised to write something with her brush.

In that instant, he was completely taken aback.

What sort of place is a man’s outer study? It is as critical as his heart, and no one is allowed to enter at will. And what was his master’s status? In the past, anyone who dared approach without reason was summarily executed.

Recalling Wei Jing’s words, “Treat her with the same respect you treat me.” Is this the lady of the house? Perhaps the princess consort?

Sure enough, the woman in the green robe, upon hearing the sound of the door, lifted her head and smiled, saying, “Husband.”

With hair like a cascade of green, fair skin, and an arresting beauty, her almond-shaped eyes, brimming with luster, blinked once—filled with a warm smile.

She stood to greet him, but Wei Jing had already taken several determined strides to the back of the desk. With a quiet “hm,” he lowered his eyes to look at her. Out of the corner of his vision, he saw some official documents on the desk. Frowning, he remarked, “Weren’t you going to handle these after taking a break?”

As the officer overseeing the county’s finances, Shao Qing’s current primary duty was that role. However, due to severe understaffing, she also helped manage part of the county magistrate’s work by processing various documents, leaving her very busy.

She was busy yet fulfilled, truly enjoying herself. Wei Jing indulged her, though he didn’t want her to become overly tired. When she left, he had advised her to go into the inner room to lie down, close her eyes, and relax—but in no time at all, she was up again.

Shao Qing laughed, “I’m not tired; I just got up.”

The work wasn’t too strenuous for someone young and energetic like her. She smiled brightly, and with a helpless expression, Wei Jing could only say, “Next time, don’t do that.”

The two exchanged a few quiet words—a very brief conversation—while the four men behind them were already staring in astonishment with wide eyes.

The very first thing that astonished them was that Shao Qing had actually taken the master’s seat in the study, yet Wei Jing showed no hint of surprise upon seeing it. Even more surprising was the shift in Wei Jing’s aura during that brief moment. A cold and austere presence transformed into gentleness.

To speak of Wei Jing in the past: he was as vigorous as the blazing sun—dashing and impressive, standing firm in the northern frontier like a mountain, unyielding to wind and rain.

When they met again this time, his imposing presence remained unchanged, yet all warmth had vanished—like plunging a hundred zhang into a deep abyss of frigid ice, his manner cold, austere, and indifferent.

The reason, of course, was the shocking upheaval that had occurred half a year ago.

Without even mentioning how heart-wrenchingly indignant Zhang Yong and the others had felt at first sight, what surprised them was that the very moment Wei Jing caught sight of Shao Qing, his entire demeanor, as if touched by a spring breeze, instantly melted the icy reserve and softened—and even his low voice carried a hint of concern.

The four men exchanged glances; having already adhered to Wei Jing’s solemn instructions, they added an extra formality.

“Greetings, madam.”

All four respectfully bowed in unison. As for calling her “princess consort” or any such title, that appellation was equally unfit to mention again.

“You all need not be overly formal—please rise at once.” Shao Qing smiled in acknowledgment. As she had expected, the four before her were all remarkable men; after greeting her, she did not rush to delve into a deeper conversation but instead took a seat aside, yielding the principal seat at the desk back to Wei Jing.

Wei Jing then instructed everyone to be seated, saying, “Feel free to speak your mind if you have anything to say.”

This means one did not need to feel restrained because Shao Qing was present.

Zhang Yong and the others clearly understood what to discuss next. Upon hearing the words, they were surprised once more, but fortunately, thanks to the proper groundwork already in place, they accepted it quite quickly.

After gathering his thoughts, Ji Huan said, “My lord, I wonder what the current situation in the Central Plains is like? The Second Prince has been on the throne for half a year now, but I fear that…”

At these words, he and the other three—including Zhang Yong—wore grave expressions. Since their defection from the Northern Army, they had been rushing day and night with the Qingzhai Guards in search of Wei Jing, leaving no time to attend to affairs in the Central Plains. Moreover, they no longer dared to rely on their previous channels of information; based solely on what they observed and heard along the way, they were no longer clear about the current state of the court.

It seems unlikely that the situation will be good. No matter how much one may criticize the actions of the late emperor, his status was that of a sovereign—when a sovereign commands, his subjects must obey until death— In contrast, the Second Prince legitimately ascended the throne with no grounds for complaint.

Half a year was enough for him to thoroughly cleanse the court—inside and out—and replace key positions with his own trusted men. Yet no matter how diminished Great Chu might now be, it remained a colossal entity. Wei Jing, having narrowly escaped death, found it no easy task to unsettle it.

Since the four, led by Ji Huan, had resolutely decided to follow Wei Jing south, they had effectively placed themselves on the same side as him. Seizing the opportunity to counterattack—even to overthrow Great Chu—was only natural. Now that they had finally reunited with their lord, this matter would be put on the agenda without delay.

The prospects were daunting; all present wore solemn expressions.

“You lot need not worry too much,” Wei Jing smiled lightly and glanced at Shao Qing. Understanding his unspoken cue, she immediately went to open the wooden box behind the desk—the one specially designated for storing the government dispatches. After rifling through it and selecting one, she handed it to him.

“Take a look at this.” He directly passed the report to Ji Huan, who stood to his left.

The report—known as the díbào—is a governmental document specifically used to convey the court’s movements and political intelligence to the regions. It records everything from the emperor’s edicts and the officials’ submissions to the appointments, dismissals, and transfers of relevant government officers. Essentially, it is an ancient internal newsletter intended to prevent local officials from being kept in the dark and governing arbitrarily.

Now, Wei Jing’s status as a county magistrate had the added advantage of enabling him to monitor the court’s developments openly and legitimately. He maintained such an attitude that Ji Huan and the others couldn’t help but exchange looks of delight. Ji Huan took the official report and bent over to scrutinize it carefully while Zhang Yong and the others, unable to wait any longer, hurried over.

“This summer, the lower reaches of the Yellow River have burst their banks. Although the affected area is not extensive, the river embankments from Chenliu to Fugou are dangerously close to collapse. My second imperial brother has issued an edict appointing Guo Yun as the Water Superintendent, granting him full control over flood control matters.”

Wei Jing’s lips twitched slightly into a sardonic smile. “Guo Yun—his petition proposing ‘using water to attack the sand’ has been approved.”

“Using water to attack the sand?!” Ji Huan was so startled that his hand trembled, and the report—still only half read—nearly slipped from his grasp, but the quick-handed Han Xi snatched it away, and the three of them eagerly spread it out to read every line.

With a sudden exclamation, Ji Huan stood up. “‘Using water to attack the sand’ may be beneficial in isolated areas, but it is extremely detrimental to the overall management of the Yellow River! Moreover, the embankments in the lower reaches of the Yellow River are now several zhang higher than the plain—sometimes even over ten zhang—and in the region from Chenliu to Fugou, the soil is loose and extremely prone to erosion by the river. Once… once…”

Water flows with high sediment content are inherently unruly; even a slight change could instantly transform the land into vast marshes stretching for thousands of miles, with calamity and wailing everywhere.

The former Crown Prince was all too aware of this. When he first entered the court, he petitioned his father to adopt measures such as widening the river to trap sediment and storing water to strengthen the dikes. Furthermore, he appointed the reclusive scholar Qu Yun—whom his uncle Fu Jun had painstakingly sought out—as the Water Superintendent to manage the Yellow River comprehensively.

Taming the Yellow River is not an overnight task—especially the method of widening the river to trap sediment, which takes even longer. However, over the past ten years, initial results have begun to appear, and during the past two years, no major breaches of the Yellow River have been seen; whether during the spring floods or the summer rains, the disasters have been relatively minor.

Just as the first glimmers of hope appeared, the widening-and-sediment-trapping approach was abruptly cut short, replaced by the entirely opposite approach of water restriction for sand control (*)?!

Notes: (*) a river management strategy first proposed by Pan Jixun, a renowned hydraulic engineer of the Ming Dynasty. This method was specifically designed for controlling the Yellow River, which is notorious for its high sediment content and frequent flooding. The core principle is to constrict the river’s flow using embankments, thereby increasing the velocity of the water. The faster-moving water then scours away sediment, preventing excessive buildup and reducing the risk of flooding. Pan Jixun emphasized that water must be concentrated rather than dispersed, as slower-moving water leads to sediment accumulation, raising the riverbed and increasing flood risks.