What to do when a little dog keeps barking?
After one night, Fengye had changed dramatically. The steps along the moat hadn’t been fully washed clean by morning—reddish-brown scabs had formed, embedded in the rough grain of the stone.
Land-grabbing cases piled up at the Capital Magistrate’s office like mountains. The Supreme Court and Golden Guard jointly dispatched personnel to investigate. Within half a month, beyond the wealthy merchants and large households, several officials had also fallen from grace.
It was said the Emperor was furious—the entire court, from top to bottom, trembled in fear, not daring to make a move.
As for why it was said—because no one had actually seen Yu Lingxin enraged.
Some, desperate and grasping at straws, sent their wives to the palace to plead with the Empress, offering vast amounts of their family wealth in exchange for a few good words before His Majesty.
They’d heard rumors—true or false—that Princess Pingning’s son had been saved that way.
Jiang Nong received them all, smiling as she told them not to worry. Relieved, they left with their hearts at ease—only to have their properties seized moments later.
Utterly foolish! Handing their weaknesses right to their enemies. They were husband and wife—no matter how naive the Empress might be, at a time like this, she stood with His Majesty.
The lands confiscated from the wealthy were resold to the farmers at low prices, based on household registration. Those without money could pay on credit, settling the debt with grain after the autumn harvest.
This temporarily relieved the peasants’ burden—but it was only a stopgap. Besides, Tan Kingdom had four prefectures and thirty-one cities—far too vast to oversee effectively. Sooner or later, land consolidation would return. A lasting policy was needed to curb it at its root.
Amidst all this, in April, this year’s spring imperial examinations arrived on schedule.
Even without a special decree, they had to hold an extra session. Local officials kept being transferred to the capital, leaving the regions understaffed.
Yu Lingxin had memories from his previous life. Though the timing differed slightly, the people were largely the same—a few were useful. One young man named Shen Chunlou had proven quite handy in the future.
Even though Jiang Nong had been confined to the harem in her previous life, she still had… a vivid impression of this Minister Shen.
A lucky unlucky one. An unlucky lucky one.
For instance, the future illustrious Minister Shen—after encountering mountain bandits blocking his path, a rainstorm forcing him to spend the night in the woods, a boulder falling onto the official road, his carriage breaking down six times, and his page falling ill three times—finally reached Fengye safely. Under the harsh conditions of a leaking examination hall, he completed the exam with optimism and tenacity.
The eighth day of the fourth month—Jiang Nong’s birthday—fell after the spring examinations.
This was her first birthday in Tan Kingdom.
The Imperial Household was in charge of arrangements. The Deputy Minister of the Imperial Household asked Yu Lingxin how it should be handled.
Yu Lingxin leaned back in his chair, tapping his long fingers lightly on the armrest, thinking. After a long pause, he said: “In principle, given the empty treasury, we should be frugal. Just two tables in the harem will suffice.”
The Deputy Minister had no reason to doubt—His Majesty had skipped his own birthday last year. A modest celebration for the Empress was only natural. He quickly agreed: “Your Majesty is right. The Emperor and Empress setting an example of frugality is a blessing for Tan Kingdom.”
He finished—and the hall fell silent, a heavy atmosphere spreading. Yu Lingxin gave him an icy stare.
He’d only agreed with His Majesty—what was wrong now?
A flash of inspiration struck the Deputy Minister. He changed his tone: “But Her Highness has managed the harem and assisted with court affairs, devoting herself wholeheartedly to all matters. With such meritorious service, she deserves a lively celebration—to honor her hard work.”
The cold gaze finally lifted. Yu Lingxin raised his hand and said lightly: “Then go ahead and arrange it.”
The Deputy Minister left feeling as if he’d escaped a disaster—and secretly delighted, believing he’d finally grasped His Majesty’s will, putting him ahead of his colleagues.
His Majesty was a hard man to read.
Once the Deputy Minister had gone, Yu Lingxin rubbed his face and mentally planned what needed to be done.
Some trivial memorials—if Jiang Nong couldn’t get through them, he’d approve them. The dam in Qi Prefecture was being overseen by Tan Jingming and Wen Zheng; he wouldn’t worry about progress for now. If problems arose, he could have their heads—and Chen Huaibin’s too.
The new land tax policy would wait for Shen Chunlou; they’d work out the details later. He planned to raise a new cavalry force—but there was no money yet. That could wait.
The people sent to various regions had brought back maps, soil samples, and local crop specimens. He’d need to convene the Minister of Agriculture to discuss possible cash crops. New official appointments…
And so on.
Yu Lingxin assessed it all. Nothing was urgent—everything could be delayed. Anything that couldn’t be delayed could be handed off. And if someone failed, he could just as easily hold them accountable.
He planned to sleep for a while. In this life, he could finally sleep—nothing needed to be rushed.
Xunliang wanted to advise him, but he knew it was useless.
He truly didn’t understand—with so much piled up, how could His Majesty sleep?
According to Jiang Nong, Yu Lingxin was like a yo-yo—one moment pumped full of energy, the next drained dry, collapsing into a boneless heap.
In a good mood, he’d clear everything at once before resting. In a bad mood, he’d procrastinate until the very last moment—then stay up all night to finish it all.
Jiang Nong didn’t know how he could process months of state affairs in such a short time.
She was someone who worked methodically—energetic, organized since childhood, completing everything step by step.
She’d always assumed that for Yu Lingxin to have reached that position in his previous life, he must have been diligent—splitting twelve hours into twenty-four.
The truth was, she’d overestimated him.
Yu Lingxin was simply talented and sharp—diligence had nothing to do with it.
Back in Xi, he’d still pretend for her sake. Now that he was free, his true nature had fully emerged.
He couldn’t wake up. If he didn’t want to do something, he wouldn’t. Jiang Nong didn’t remember him being this lazy in his previous life.
She couldn’t help but attribute it to that arrow Yu Lingxin had taken—his qi and blood depleted, leaving him perpetually listless.
The emperor wasn’t anxious, but the eunuchs were. Yu Lingxin wasn’t anxious, but Jiang Nong was anxious for him. She couldn’t stand it—she’d urge him eight hundred times a day, until they’d start arguing, dredging up each other’s old faults. After getting slapped, Yu Lingxin would say he was going to the study—only to sit there for ages before finally summoning the Deputy Minister of the Imperial Household.
Yu Lingxin had just closed his eyes, face down on the desk, when Jiang Nong arrived.
She’d come to bring him sweet soup.
Yu Lingxin lifted his head again, suspicious that she’d come to monitor him.
When Jiang Nong saw his face, the freshly made purple rice and cassava sweet soup nearly ended up on his head.
Yu Lingxin claimed he was reviewing memorials—this time he hadn’t needed her urging.
Jiang Nong, hearing him lie through his teeth, pinched the red mark on his face and asked what it was.
Yu Lingxin saw himself in her eyes. Jiang Nong’s eyes were clear as a lake—and in that moment, they held only him, along with the red pattern pressed into his cheek by the desk surface.
He froze. Jiang Nong blinked rapidly, her lashes fluttering like butterfly wings slipping through the cracks of his heart—snapping him back to reality.
He babbled nonsense, saying the desk had been rude and left a kiss mark on his face.
“The desk was rude, and Yu Lingxin has no integrity.” Jiang Nong pinched his cheek again.
Yu Lingxin laughed at her pinch.
Seeing him laugh, Jiang Nong got flustered and didn’t dare pinch him anymore—just like she didn’t dare slap him. Too hard was out of the question; too light and he’d just laugh.
What kind of bad habit was it to enjoy being hit?
Sometimes Jiang Nong suspected it was a problem from childhood—being hit too much. She reached out and stroked the cheek she’d pinched.
The moment her hand touched his face, Yu Lingxin leaned into her, about to collapse onto her. Jiang Nong pressed her forehead against his, pushing him away: “Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop. No sleeping on me. Did you finish today’s work?”
Yu Lingxin was unjustifiably bold and confident: “Done.”
“What did you do?”
“The Deputy Minister of the Imperial Household came by. We finalized plans for your birthday.”
“That’s it?”
“What else did you want?”
So Yu Lingxin had spent the entire day doing one tiny thing. Jiang Nong was stunned—this was a completely different person from the Yu Lingxin who’d stayed up all night redrafting the land tax policy just days ago.
She tried to correct his behavior, explaining: “My birthday isn’t that important. You’re just being lazy. You can’t do that—you can’t put things off until the last minute or pass them off to others. You should plan everything out, and then…”
She stopped mid-sentence, realizing her nagging was somewhat pointless. After all, she didn’t actually know how to be a good emperor—Yu Lingxin certainly had more experience than her.
She sat down beside him and drank her sweet soup instead: “Alright, review your memorials. I’ll keep you company.”
Just thinking about all that unfinished work while Yu Lingxin slept made ants crawl under Jiang Nong’s skin. If she kept an eye on him, at least he’d finish reviewing the memorials.
Yu Lingxin didn’t move. She shot him a look.
His gaze slid from her face to the bowl: “Didn’t you bring that for me?”
Jiang Nong paused. She’d forgotten—actually, she’d already eaten a bowl. It was quite good. She stirred the spoon in the bowl and said uncertainly: “You probably wouldn’t have eaten it anyway.”
She’d never noticed Yu Lingxin having any particular favorite foods. Sweet things were too sweet; spicy things too spicy.
“Jiang Nong, do you have any conscience? You brought something for me and ate it yourself. It’s freezing in here—how could you be so heartless?” Yu Lingxin accused.
The study in Xuan Shi Hall had four large tortoiseshell windows that let in plenty of light. No matter how they tried to heat it, it was always chilly—which was good for staying alert while reading and governing.
Jiang Nong had already finished the sweet soup. She showed him the empty bowl with a look that said so what.
The bowl was empty. Yu Lingxin’s stomach was empty. He was cold. Jiang Nong was warm and full.
After reading a few lines, Yu Lingxin called out: “So cold.”
Jiang Nong sat across from him. He reached out toward her.
He reached several times. Finally, annoyed, Jiang Nong gave him her hand: “Stop it. I just drank a bowl of sweet soup. If you want some, have the Imperial Kitchen make more!”
His hand was so cold it made her shiver. She instinctively gripped it tighter and rubbed it to warm him.
How could he be this cold?
Yu Lingxin lowered his head, using the dim light to hide the smile at the corners of his mouth.
He didn’t ask Jiang Nong what they were to each other now.
Nothing. It was just that Jiang Nong was in a good mood, pitying him, occasionally giving him a little kindness. Asking would only bring humiliation.
Even just as a husband, the kindness Jiang Nong had given Chao Ning was surely more than she gave him.
As Yu Lingxin’s thoughts drifted, inevitably toward Chao Ning, his smile faded inch by inch.
“Writing something bad? Your face is so dark.” Jiang Nong had crept up silently. She’d noticed his expression had been fine just moments ago—now it was grim. Curious, she leaned in.
She was so close she was nearly touching his forehead, looking up at him with wide, round eyes that still held only him.
Like a curious kitten.
She had no idea what thoughts were racing through his mind—she just saw that he was unhappy.
Yu Lingxin’s heart burned. He couldn’t help but press his forehead against hers, nudging her brow, and said: “It’s turned into something good.”
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