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Chapter 17: “Your Backs Look Quite Alike”

The capital of Eastern Metropolis was shrouded in night, yet Phoenix Pavilion remained brightly lit.

Ju Chen sat at the desk with several fellow students, her left hand flipping an abacus while her right hand held a writing brush.

At Jifang Academy, aside from the core arts—zither, chess, calligraphy, and painting—the most important subject was arithmetic. The students were so familiar with the abacus that they could practically perform tricks with it.

In addition, they could calculate mentally, measure dimensions, read hand-drawn engineering diagrams, and even estimate annual crop yields based on agricultural data.

They knew the farming process, how to raise silkworms and plant mulberry trees. They understood business operations, logistics, and contracts. When Madam Shen took them outside the capital for hands-on practice, she repeatedly stressed that although they may not pursue this professionally, they must understand it.

Later, Ju Chen realized that all this knowledge was closely tied to the livelihood of the common people.

The Empress Dowager did not want them confined to the inner courtyard, but neither did she want them to rise to high positions while remaining ignorant of basic governance.

On the other side, Assistant Minister Liu from the Ministry of Revenue was immersed in the account books they had compiled. The more he read, the more impressed he became. Looking up from the orderly ledgers, he couldn’t help but cast a look of approval at the girls.

He finally understood why the wise Prince Pingshan had suddenly agreed to let a group of young girls assist in the Ministry of Revenue.

If Minister Wang hadn’t strictly instructed that nothing outside of disaster relief could be shared about Phoenix Pavilion, Liu would have loved to have these girls comb through the entire year’s finances. It would save him a tremendous amount of trouble.

Just as he was daydreaming, Ju Chen, who was leading the group, put down her brush, closed her eyes, and rubbed her brow.

After several sleepless nights, she had finally sorted through all the financial records related to disaster relief.

She had even managed to scrape together enough funding for the third round of emergency disaster relief from various expenditures.

As she looked at the towering stack of old account books, she couldn’t help but feel a surge of frustration.

In her past life, she had longed to reform the Ministry of Revenue and had begged the Empress to grant her oversight. The Empress smiled and said, “So long as Prince Pingshan agrees, I have no objection.”

Ju Chen had to bite the bullet and approach Song Mi—but he refused to relinquish control.

“Minister Li, is this you begging me?” he asked, sunlight playing on his chiseled features, his eyes full of mischief. His face seemed to mock her—”So this is what begging looks like.”

Gritting her teeth, she raised her chin and said, “I just noticed how busy you’ve been—you don’t even have time to eat. I’m trying to help. Don’t misunderstand a kind gesture.”

“Concerned about me?”

“Y-yes.”

He smirked, as if he could hear her teeth grinding. “You want it? Then I won’t give it to you.”

Remembering his smug and irritating expression, Ju Chen clenched her pen tightly.

Why were there hundreds of sub-entries just for real estate? Who needed to know how many kitchens, parlors, and latrines a property had?

It only slowed down the accounting process.

Wasn’t he exhausted looking at all this?

Before long, another stack of new financial documents was delivered to her.

Already simmering, Ju Chen glanced through them, her sharp gaze turning colder. She tapped the desk and asked sharply, “Where is Wang Zhiren?”

Giving her these flawed reports—did he have a death wish?

Her authoritative voice brought the entire Phoenix Pavilion to a standstill; it was so quiet, one could hear a pin drop.

Minister Liu looked up, slightly stunned, then hesitantly said, “Minister Wang should still be in the Cabinet?”

Ju Chen immediately coughed and stood up, quickly bowing a full ninety degrees in apology.

“What I meant was—could you introduce me to Minister Wang? I have urgent matters to discuss.”

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In the previous life, an epidemic had broken out in Shangdu. The national treasury was strained.

In desperation, Song Mi had—without King Sui’s permission—diverted the funds originally allocated for King Sui’s extravagant mausoleum.

King Sui, the late emperor’s elder brother, had once been a contender for the throne. Though later sidelined with a noble title, his influence remained deep-rooted.

Ever since losing his position in the Eastern Palace, he had become increasingly eccentric and ruthless. No one dared to offend him.

But at the time, that mausoleum fund was the only sizable reserve left. Song Mi had no choice.

King Sui held a grudge.

Later, when war broke out in the northern frontier, he deliberately delayed supplies as revenge, putting Song Mi’s forces at great risk—until Ju Chen discovered the hidden supplies and saved the day.

In this life, Ju Chen joined the Ministry of Revenue early to monitor Shangdu’s situation firsthand.

She had only heard fragments of the story in her past life, but this time, she was determined to ensure Song Mi had no distractions.

However, Wang Zhi—the dense official—was once again trying to withhold King Sui’s funding.

Was he trying to get his boss killed?

Ju Chen had to meet with him overnight in the Cabinet and point out several better alternatives for reallocating funds.

Wang Zhi frowned. “But King Sui is still alive—why rush the mausoleum? The funds you propose for Minister Sun and other retired officials are clearly more pressing.”

Ju Chen quietly replied, “Better to offend a gentleman than a villain. In times of crisis, who’s more concerned about the people of Shangdu—Minister Sun or King Sui?”

Wang Zhi finally conceded.

Fortunately, the contingency fund was never used. Song Mi and the army managed to contain the epidemic in time.

This time, Shangdu survived the flood and plague with minimal casualties.

---

Meanwhile, Prince Pingshan coordinated various efforts. Amidst the chaos, he asked Yuan Zheng why he had arrived so quickly.

Yuan Zheng replied, “I was already in Yangzhou suppressing water bandits. I had been corresponding with Li Dianji from Phoenix Pavilion.”

He didn’t notice the subtle shift in the Prince’s expression.

“She just became a court lady this year. I sent her a congratulatory gift, and in her reply, she mentioned working on Ministry of Revenue matters. She expressed concern about potential epidemics after the flood.”

Song Mi’s eyes sharpened. “She told you that there might be an epidemic?”

Yuan Zheng bowed. “She was new to Phoenix Pavilion and government work. While sorting records, she noticed a pattern—plagues often follow floods. She was just worried, not trying to stir panic.”

Song Mi was struck—she had come to the same conclusion he had.

Why hadn’t she written to him?

Yuan Zheng continued with a smile, “She later urged me to finish off the bandits quickly so I could come help with the sandbags. Just happened to arrive when the epidemic hit.”

Song Mi nodded slowly.

Wanting to vouch for Ju Chen, Yuan Zheng added, “Don’t underestimate her—she’s sharp.”

“We grew up together. She’s the real deal—you can absolutely trust her.”

“You know her well?” Song Mi asked.

Yuan Zheng grinned, “We basically grew up in the same pair of pants.”

He had been raised with Ju Chen and Xu Yang under the care of Princess Xian Ning.

Yuan Zheng was cheerful and loud by nature. He laughed, but quickly noticed the Prince’s cold expression and fell silent.

Song Mi glanced at the hem of Yuan Zheng’s cloak. He recognized the same fabric he owned but hadn’t worn today.

“Nice coat,” he said lightly. “Where did you get it?”

“Someone gave it to me.”

Song Mi’s gaze dimmed.

Outside, Yuan Zheng’s deputy called him for duty. He saluted and left.

Lu Feng came in just as Yuan Zheng exited. Watching him leave, he commented, “You know, your backs look a bit alike.”

He meant it as a compliment—Prince Pingshan had both the grace of a scholar and the stature of a warrior.

But just as the words landed, Song Mi’s fingers clenched and cracked the rim of his cup.

His face remained calm, but Lu Feng felt an unexplained heat in his gaze.

Ju Chen had written Yuan Zheng precisely to use him to alert Song Mi about the epidemic.

She believed Song Mi would take it seriously, as he always did.

Unaware that he had already taken precautions, she only learned later from Yuan Zheng’s letter that the timing had been perfect and the plague had been swiftly controlled.

Knowing that Yuan Zheng was competent and loyal, she felt reassured.

In her next letters, she tried to inquire indirectly about Song Mi by asking how their cooperation was going.

Yuan Zheng praised him to the heavens, calling him a paragon of virtue and the pillar of the state.

But he added with a sigh, “He’s colder than I expected. If he weren’t so efficient, I’d think he didn’t like me.”

Ju Chen replied gently, “He’s probably just tired from work. Don’t take it to heart—eat and sleep well, and don’t let it affect you.”

She was just trying to keep Yuan Zheng motivated and prevent friction.

But Song Mi, passing by Yuan Zheng later, glimpsed her handwriting on the letter.

He scoffed internally.

So… she was worried he was being mistreated?