Jiang Nong had been hungry for hours. To maintain her dignity, she hadn’t dared eat a single bite in front of the farmers. The moment she got in the carriage, she stuffed three jujubes and apricots into her mouth before she could finally relax.
It wasn’t her imagination—Tan Kingdom’s fruits really were sweeter than those in Xi and Dang.
She’d assumed it was only because the imperial couple received the best produce. But after tasting the farmers’ offerings, she found they were even sweeter and softer than what she’d eaten in Xi’s palace.
Jiang Nong was far less particular than him. Yu Lingxin lay in her lap, glanced up, and couldn’t help saying: “That’s filthy. You don’t know if they washed them or if rats crawled over them—and you just put them straight in your mouth.”
At his words, Jiang Nong’s face scrunched up. She bared her teeth and smacked him hard: “Don’t say that! Rats—that’s disgusting! Can’t you just talk like a normal person? I’ve already eaten them—they must have been clean if they offered them to me.”
“Why do you always assume the best of people?”
“Why do you always assume the worst?”
Jiang Nong had been hungry enough to devour a whole pig, but Yu Lingxin’s talk of rats had killed her appetite. She hit him a few more times in anger.
“Hit me again? I didn’t even say anything—you shrew!”
Jiang Nong shoved one of the very jujubes he’d been criticizing into his mouth.
Yu Lingxin showed no reaction. He chewed, swallowed, and ate it.
“You don’t mind? You just said rats might have crawled over them.”
Yu Lingxin lifted his eyelids casually, a hint of contempt in his eyes: “I only said it because you’d care. I don’t mind at all. If there’s no meat, you can raise rats—throw down some scraps and they’ll grow, breed by the dozen, and there’s endless meat.”
Jiang Nong thought of a writhing nest of rats, covered her mouth, and felt sick. Had Xi treated him badly enough that he had to eat rats? Or was it in Tan?
Yu Lingxin knew she couldn’t stand hearing it—she’d feel nauseous. He reached up and patted her back.
After a moment of dry heaving, Jiang Nong said: “You’re quite resourceful.”
No wonder she’d wondered how he’d grown so tall without meat.
Yu Lingxin detected a hint of approval in her tone and couldn’t believe it: “You’re praising me?”
Jiang Nong’s tone was full of amazement: “Oh my! You finally caught that! I figured you couldn’t have been crazy your whole life—you wouldn’t eat that kind of thing unless you had nothing else. Coming up with that idea, I think it’s…”
She paused, searching for the right word, and finally landed on: “Pretty brave.”
If it were her, she wouldn’t have had the nerve. It was frightening.
“Thanks for the compliment—but could you not say it in that tone?”
“What’s wrong with it? I think it sounds great.” Jiang Nong thought Chao Ning’s tone conveyed surprise perfectly.
Yu Lingxin shot her a cold glare. Who wanted to hear her mimic her ex-husband’s way of speaking?
“Actually, I’ve always wondered—if your father hated you that much, why didn’t he just execute you? Wouldn’t that have been cleaner? You wouldn’t have had to suffer in the palace.”
Yu Lingxin clicked his tongue: “Listen to yourself—is that even human speech?”
“Not executing me—I suppose they were merciful. Devout Buddhists.”
The joke was so cold Jiang Nong couldn’t laugh.
“You’re doing it again—thinking I’m joking,” Yu Lingxin paused. “The Empress Dowager was Buddhist back then. She didn’t believe in killing.”
Jiang Nong found the joke even colder.
Her speechless expression gave Yu Lingxin a strange satisfaction.
Lying in Jiang Nong’s lap—her scent mingled with a faint earthy dust from the fields, like the steady, calm embrace of the earth—the carriage swayed gently. Before long, Yu Lingxin fell asleep without realizing it.
The setting sun cast a slanted glow, painting his pale cheeks with a cold, blood-red light.
Jiang Nong watched him for a while, then lightly pressed her fingers to his cheek, traced his pale lips, and pulled his head closer into her arms.
The accompanying ministers were still waiting in position. Jiang Nong lifted the curtain and ordered the Golden Guard to send word: they need not wait—return directly to Fengye.
The ministers had spent the entire day under the blazing sun. Their strength had given out—especially the civil officials, who were barely standing.
Yu Lingxin slept all the way until the carriage entered the palace gates.
Jiang Nong shook him awake. He mumbled for a while before sitting up, covering his face and shaking his head.
Woken midway—he clearly wasn’t in a good mood.
Jiang Nong told him to go back to sleep.
But he couldn’t fall asleep again. He dropped his head heavily onto Jiang Nong’s shoulder—only to be jolted awake by the impact.
Outside, the sky had gone completely dark. He called for the Captain of the Palace Guards: “Take your men and summon every minister to the front hall of Xuan Shi Hall for deliberation!”
The Captain looked at the sky in disbelief and asked cautiously: “Your Majesty… now?”
“Yes. Now. Immediately. Go.” Yu Lingxin couldn’t sleep and was in a foul mood—so no one else would sleep either.
The Captain accepted the order and dispatched his men.
At this hour—after those civil officials had stood in the sun all day, just got home exhausted, hungry, and tired, not even a bite of food—they were dragged by the palace guards into the palace for deliberation. They wished they were dead.
What matter could be so urgent that it couldn’t wait until morning?
One by one, their old faces were sunburned red, stomachs growling with hunger. They stood groggily in the hall.
Yu Lingxin had changed clothes and eaten his evening meal before arriving at his leisure.
His displeasure today was obvious. The ministers dared not even breathe too loudly.
After several rounds, they had finally learned the temper of this emperor.
A difficult master to serve. Whether you stroked him against the grain or with it, he’d still explode without warning—and when he did, it was a silent fuse. By the time you realized what was happening, your entire clan was already flying through the air.
They couldn’t read his expression. Every morning court felt like torture. In the six months since his ascension, colleagues who’d lost their nine clans could form a line holding hands around Xuan Shi Hall.
But there was still a way—if the Empress was willing to step in, the silent fuse would only go off halfway.
If they knew of Yu Lingxin’s methods in his previous life—where those who’d lost their nine clans could circle Xuan Shi Hall eight times over—they’d probably be setting up an altar to worship Jiang Nong overnight.
Yu Lingxin threw the day’s collected farmer testimonies down before them, telling them to pick them up and read them among themselves.
“You will now come up with a solution to this matter.”
The ministers’ heads ached with worry. This was a centuries-old problem—how could they solve it in one night?
Even if they had ideas, how could they speak them aloud? It would offend too many powerful people.
Yu Lingxin had long known they wouldn’t dare speak. They followed the same corrupt practices—their own hands were likely dirty.
In his previous life, if they couldn’t come up with an answer, he’d drag one out every half hour. They’d have figured it out quickly. But now was different—he had a family. How could he do something so brutal?
He’d rested during the day and had the energy to waste with them. His long legs crossed on the low table, cheek propped on his hand, watching them with a languid, cold gaze.
The group dragged on until the Zi hour. Several frail civil officials fainted.
Yu Lingxin had the imperial physician revive them—pinching their philtrums and forcing down medicine—then made them continue thinking.
They hadn’t come up with anything, though. Meanwhile, several waves of military guards had returned with the scent of blood.
They had conducted overnight investigations into recent land transfers around Fengye. Anyone found to have seized over a hundred acres, with clear evidence, was dragged out and beheaded on the spot. The capital magistrate’s office was lit up all night, working overtime at the execution grounds.
Yu Lingxin’s Golden Guard and Langzhong Guard handled the arrests—leaving no chance for anyone to use their connections.
Several inexperienced ministers fainted from fright.
They’d never seen anything like this. Like death itself had come knocking—one whim, and everything had to be done that very night.
The entire city of Fengye stayed awake with him. By morning, the wealthy households would be replaced by a new batch—and many court officials would be implicated.
After several rounds of deaths, someone finally stepped forward: “Your Majesty, in this humble minister’s view, it would be better to increase land taxes. Levy heavier taxes on landholders. When the wealthy see no profit, they will naturally disperse.”
“But what about the common people? They are already weak. If land taxes are increased, won’t those with even a little land still go hungry?”
“If we don’t increase land taxes, how else can we curb consolidation?”
The two sides argued back and forth, reaching no conclusion.
Yu Lingxin propped his chin on his hand and let them argue.
He didn’t return to rest until the Chou hour, letting the ministers stay in the front hall of Xuan Shi Hall to rest temporarily and reconvene tomorrow.
The message was clear: until they reached a resolution, no one was going home.
He rubbed his brow and returned. Jiang Nong hadn’t slept yet—she was leaning against the bedside reading. Only one candle remained lit in the bronze holder, its warm, dim glow spilling across her face—serene and gentle.
Jiang Nong rubbed her eyes. Knowing nothing would be resolved in such a short time, she put down her book and asked: “I couldn’t sleep with all the noise up front. Did you come up with anything?”
“They kept circling back to increasing land taxes. I think it could work—but it would need tiered, graded increases.” Yu Lingxin actually had ideas in mind, but the details needed refinement. “If it’s mishandled, someone will have to take responsibility. All those ministers are hiding like turtles, afraid of being held accountable. Not one dared to speak—they should all be dragged out.”
“Drag them out and use who? The spring imperial examinations are coming soon. See if there are any promising candidates among the scholars.” Jiang Nong suggested. Newcomers weren’t afraid of old tigers—the senior officials had grown slick. Fresh talent would dare to think and act. Pick some good ones to replace the old. “If you increase land taxes, reduce some of the poll taxes.”
Yu Lingxin was already drowsy with exhaustion. He undressed and got into bed, nodding: “Keep those thoughts. Tell me tomorrow.”
He had trapped everyone in Xuan Shi Hall—not necessarily to get answers from them. Tonight, blood flowed through the city. How many of those arrogant land-grabbers who dared defy the law were backed by these very ministers? Keeping them corralled was both control and warning.
Jiang Nong pushed Yu Lingxin’s head away. Whether he was truly asleep or not, he laid it back on her. She pushed him off several times—he only pressed closer. She gave him a light slap on the face. Instead of recoiling, he curved his lips slightly.
Jiang Nong truly had no way to handle him. Shameless—what could she do?
Leave a Reply