“……”

Qiao Yan exchanged a glance with Fusu at the wall, deeply impressed by her courage in participating in the plot against Cao Cao, a trait evident since her youth.

After Qiao Yan nodded in approval, Fusu climbed down the ladder and entered through the main gate of the Qiao residence.

As she talked about the planting of mustard greens, Qiao Yan couldn’t help but feel a hint of bitterness in the story.

Fusu, not being Princess Yang’an Chang, couldn’t cause trouble at home no matter how spirited she was.

Seeing the melancholy expression of the uncle next door, she thought it might be better to cause a stir in front of him instead.

Therefore, Fusu pointed at the vegetable garden and asked, “If one day Grandfather Qiao’s spirit returned with the breeze, and he saw this once flourishing place now so desolate, would he feel stifled?”

“Why don’t we plant some vegetables here!”

She had joked about planting “a crop of mustard greens in your garden,” but the harvested vegetables were actually stored in the Qiao family cellar.

Except for a small amount used fresh during the season, the rest were pickled into salty pickles, made from mustard greens.

Fusu, who had never done this before, felt she couldn’t abandon it halfway.

She secretly went to ask her own servants about it, then hurried back with a bunch of empty pottery jars and jars.

Although the old servant left by Qiao Xuan didn’t say much, he listened attentively as Fusu chattered on about making salty pickles, casting a loving gaze upon her as if regarding a younger generation.

Qiao Yan noticed this display and turned to order Dian Wei to go to the market and fetch some vegetables.

Upon hearing this instruction, Fusu quickly interjected, “When a guest comes from afar, there should be wine!”

Because she didn’t see many people in her daily life, Qiao Yan had left a deep impression on Fusu over the past three years.

She tried to compare Qiao Yan’s current height with her memory and realized she had grown quite a bit taller.

So, following the customs, how could they entertain without wine? Her father always did so!

“Now that I am the host and you are the guest, I decide,” Qiao Yan gently pushed her back and instructed the old servant to discuss matters with the servants in Fusu’s mansion.

Young Fusu, who had not yet experienced the harsh realities of society, now felt firsthand what it meant to be unable to match strength with a stronger opponent.

But then she remembered the question she had been most eager to ask Qiao Yan upon hearing the commotion.

After confirming that her plan to taste the wine had fallen through, she turned to Qiao Yan and asked about the situation in Leping.

The letters Qiao Yan had sent her before were still neatly placed on the bookshelf, along with the rest of the gifts that came from the mountains were two wooden carvings, aside from the items meant for drinking.

These sparked her interest in the Taihang Mountains.

Born and raised in the capital, she had never had the chance to venture outside and could only imagine what the Taihang Mountains were like from afar.

When Qiao Yan mentioned the 500,000 mu of farmland and over 100,000 mu of mountain fields in Leping, Fusu began calculating on her fingers and couldn’t help but compare it to the small vegetable garden she tended, wrinkling her face in disbelief.

“Without knowing the world beyond the capital,” she sighed.

Qiao Yan couldn’t help but laugh at her remark, finding her somewhat mature for her age.

Yet, her maturity wasn’t quite like Cai Yan, who had grown up quickly under Cai Yong’s influence; there was still some childlike innocence in her thoughts.

Instead of lamenting missing out on seeing the bountiful harvest of over 600,000 mu of mountain and farmland, she spoke of asking her father to find travel accounts about the regions outside the capital to satisfy her curiosity.

She seemed just as confident and friendly as she had been three years ago, but noticeably taller.

Listening to her, Qiao Yan nodded thoughtfully, “Last year, I finished reading Ban Shupi’s ‘Northern Expedition Ode’ and ‘Sea View Ode,’ and the year before that, Ma Dibo’s ‘Fengshan Ceremony Record.’ Oh, and also Zhang Pingzi’s ‘Eastern Tour Edict.'”

Her level of reading was rare these days.

However, just as Qiao Yan was about to speak, she interrupted, “I won’t mention the odes. I’m still young and don’t understand those with so many ‘this’ and ‘that.’ I mostly just count them to broaden my horizons.”

Fusu didn’t realize how cute she sounded when she spoke so frankly and earnestly, saying seriously, “But the ‘Fengshan Ceremony Record’ was written by Ma Dibo when he accompanied Emperor Guangwu to Mount Tai, and the ‘Eastern Tour Edict’ was written because the emperor hunted near Mount Dai. Few people in this world get to visit Mount Tai. Most just visit nearby mountains and tombs. So why hasn’t anyone written a book that documents all the mountains, rivers, and landscapes of the world?”

She had clearly been puzzled by this question for quite some time, and since Fusu thought she had too many questions and they were all too strange, now was the time to ask Qiao Yan.

Qiao Yan replied, “If you write it down as you say, people who never go out will also see the mountains and rivers, and you can include images.”

Fusu’s eyes lit up. “Exactly! It’s a pity my father thinks my idea is too naive. Who has the time to travel and collect such records when adults have so many important things to do?”

Qiao Yan didn’t think her idea was naive at all.

If she lived in the Tang Dynasty, she could read Li Daoyuan’s “Commentary on the Waterways” from the Northern Wei Dynasty and the “Luoyang Jialan Records” compiled during the Eastern Wei Dynasty right from her home.

In modern times, she could experience the thrill of exploring landscapes without leaving home, even feeling the impact of famous writings like “The Pavilion of the Drunken Immortal” or “The Record of the Small Stone Pond.”

But nowadays, such literature of travel and exploration only began to rise during the Eastern Han Dynasty and has yet to become mainstream.

Recording such journeys indeed required political support in the current environment.

Take the “Commentary on the Waterways,” for example—

Despite documenting water systems, it also includes descriptions of over three hundred battles that took place in those regions.

Its author, Li Daoyuan, once served as the Governor of East Jingzhou, which explains its detailed military geographical descriptions.

Of course, this book wouldn’t be born for another three hundred years, so Qiao Yan realized it wasn’t the best example for Fushou.

She knew she shouldn’t discourage her enthusiasm by agreeing with her father’s views.

Instead, she replied, “Perhaps in a few years, when things settle down a bit, someone will travel extensively and leave behind such records. Who’s to say you won’t be that person? For now, there are people working hard to suppress chaos.”

When Fusu heard Qiao Yan suggest she could be the one to record these things, she wondered if Qiao Yan was just trying to encourage her.

But seeing the certainty in her eyes and expression, she began to believe it might be true.

Curious about Qiao Yan’s mention of suppressing chaos, she asked, “Are you talking about yourself trying to suppress chaos?”

When Fusu previously borrowed books from his father’s study to read, he heard his father mention that Qiao Yan was behaving arrogantly in Bingzhou, advising him to avoid associating too much with him to avoid trouble.

However, he also heard his mother, Princess Yang’an, rebuke, saying that Qiao Yan was at least loyal to the Han Dynasty.

These contrasting evaluations converged in Fusu’s ears as essentially the same message—Qiao Yan was indeed capable of handling affairs in Bingzhou, with the ability to eradicate bandits.

Thinking further, what had Qiao Yan accomplished in Luoyang? Under her watchful eye, she was just planting vegetables.

Fusu had already begun to regard Qiao Yan as half of his idol.

Certainly, she naturally wanted to emulate Qiao Yan to some extent.

However, at her age, she clearly wouldn’t understand why Qiao Yan chose to farm at that time—to preserve herself and clarify her intentions.

She also wouldn’t comprehend why, after she asked this question, Qiao Yan smiled ambiguously and replied, “Who knows, perhaps the current emperor among the Southern Palace is striving diligently.”

As for which direction would offer conditions for pacification, opinions varied among the wise.