Construction on the Meng River dam had begun in March—it wouldn’t be completed for at least two years. Tan Jingming returned to Fengye every six months to report. On his first trip back, he brought a chest of soil from the riverbanks and nearby crops.
Previously, only a small, patched-up dam had existed, barely functional. Each year during the summer and autumn flood seasons, the rising waters would inundate nearby farmlands. Gradually, farmers abandoned cultivation within a several-li radius—only coming to draw water and wash clothes during the dry season.
Over the years, the Meng River’s constant erosion had formed a floodplain—exposed during dry seasons, submerged during floods. When the torrential floodwaters swept through this seasonal plain, they carried sediment and soil from upstream through the valley outlet, where the current suddenly slowed and deposited a layer of rich, fertile earth.
When Tan Jingming and his crew cleared the river channel, they realized the area held great potential. No wonder Wen Zheng had repeatedly petitioned for dam construction—to develop agriculture along the Meng River.
Tan Jingming also brought wild pears and peaches from the hillsides near the river. Though wild, they were large and plump, nourished by the fertile soil, and tasted exceptionally sweet.
Tan Kingdom lay in the north, with mountainous terrain, long daylight hours, and wide temperature differences between day and night—making its fruits and vegetables more flavorful than those of the other four kingdoms.
Jiang Nong could speak on this with authority—she’d lived in Xi for many years and in Dang for quite some time.
“Such good land—it would be a waste to only grow grain.” She turned the peach over in her hands several times, bringing it to her nose to smell.
The returns on grain were far lower than on fruits and melons.
If they could package these fruits beautifully in silk or gift boxes and sell them at a premium to the wealthy—or trade them to other states—that would be ideal.
This would also create jobs for labor, transport, and logistics. Some fruits were delicate and hard to preserve, which would justify an even higher price.
The wealthy didn’t care about cost. They were happy to spend as long as the goods were excellent and brought them face. Over time, Tan Kingdom would earn a reputation for fine fruit—and even ordinary fruit exported to other states would fetch a good price.
Jiang Nong knew this well. It was exactly how the rouge sold outside the palace worked: whoever had the most exquisite packaging and richest fragrance—if a noble lady of Xi didn’t have the full set, she’d lose face.
Jiang Yuan used to send people outside the palace to buy at inflated prices—she bought quite a lot and even gave Jiang Nong a complete set.
The boxes were certainly beautiful—heavy and ornate—but Jiang Nong couldn’t tell what made the powder finer. It showed that everything came down to packaging and promotion. And since Tan’s fruit was genuinely good, it wasn’t false advertising.
“What do you want to grow? Once the area is cleared, I’ll set aside a plot for you to experiment with.”
Why does everything have to be a toy for her?
Whether it was what Jiang Nong wanted or not—if she mentioned it, Yu Lingxin would give it to her. Every idea she had, reasonable or not, feasible or not—he wouldn’t even check what she was researching, just let her try.
In both her lifetimes—past and present—Jiang Nong had never been with anyone but Yu Lingxin who actually heard every word she said.
She didn’t know hatred could run this deep. If everyone could hate her the way Yu Lingxin did, she wished the whole world would hate her.
For Yu Lingxin, both love and hate were too intense—pouring such draining emotions endlessly could only mean the person mattered deeply to him.
Most of the time, he was indifferent to everyone. If everyone deserved an emotional reaction, he’d exhaust himself to death.
There were also some jujubes. Jiang Nong had eaten enough of them. She tossed one in her hand, threw it up, and tried to catch it in her mouth—but missed. Jujubes scattered across the floor.
Yu Lingxin picked them up and placed them back in her hand.
Jiang Nong thought for a moment, then sat back and weighed the jujube in her hand, gesturing at him.
Yu Lingxin knew exactly what she wanted, but still asked: “What are you doing? Giving me the ones that fell on the floor?”
But when Jiang Nong tossed the first one toward him, he opened his mouth and caught it cleanly.
Jiang Nong wiped it with her palm and showed him: “It’s fine—clean. I wiped it for you. Quick, another one!”
She threw another—he caught it again.
“Amazing!”
Jiang Nong clapped and stepped farther back, waving at him: “Catch two more—let me see.”
Treating him like a dog?
Though that’s what he thought, he caught every single one.
Jiang Nong was puzzled—how could someone with bad eyesight catch so accurately? Even better than her with perfect vision.
She decided not to push—best not to reopen old wounds.
They’d gone through the entire plate of jujubes. Yu Lingxin’s cheeks were stuffed full. He spat out seven or eight pits in a row.
“Next time, toss them slower—I can’t even keep up spitting out the pits.”
Jiang Nong poked his bulging cheek and said: “Fine, fine.”
Next time, she’d play with seedless ones.
Jiang Nong picked up the peach again. Today it was still crisp—tomorrow it might not be. But eating it meant peeling and cutting it, and she didn’t want to do it herself. If a servant did it, she’d feel uncomfortable eating the peach flesh after someone else had touched it.
She couldn’t finish a whole one anyway. Cut peaches would turn brown after a while. She set it down again.
Yu Lingxin finished spitting out the jujube pits and glanced at her a few times. He took the peach, started peeling it from the side, cut out a piece, then inserted the knife straight down from another angle—so a clean, whole chunk of flesh detached from the pit. He split it in half with the knife tip and held one piece out on the blade.
Jiang Nong leaned back, startled, shrinking her neck: “Don’t we have silver skewers? Could you not feed me with a knife?”
What was this—payback for tossing jujubes at him like a dog?
“It won’t stab you. Come on—open up. It’s easier this way.”
Jiang Nong noticed his hands never touched the flesh—clean and neat. She leaned forward cautiously and nibbled the peach off the knife tip.
She’d only ever seen peaches peeled in a spiral and sliced. Everyone around her had always cut them that way. This was the first time she’d seen Yu Lingxin’s method—trickier, but more efficient.
Yu Lingxin was far better at feeding than she was. For each piece she ate, he’d peel just that section, slicing it into bite-sized chunks with a sharp knife. By the time Jiang Nong finished one piece, the next was ready.
Still feeling unsafe, Jiang Nong used a silver fork herself. So it became: Yu Lingxin cutting the peach, Jiang Nong picking it up with her fork.
“Cut them smaller—my lipstick will smudge.”
“Like this? Princess?”
“Close enough.”
Yu Lingxin carved the peach into three sections per pit. Jiang Nong held a fruit skewer in each hand, picked the most square piece with her right, ate it, and offered the remaining two to Yu Lingxin with her left skewer.
The two of them huddled together, sharing one peach—a little sneaky, a little heartbreaking.
By status—prince and princess, born of royal blood—neither had the luxury of throwing away a half-eaten peach. They had to split it and finish every bit. Even the attending maid sighed, pressing her chest: “So frugal.”
The historiographer’s records would have something to write again: On such-and-such date, the Emperor and Empress shared a single peach—living simply.
That evening, the courier station delivered letters from Xi Kingdom.
Jiang Yuan and Jiang Miao had both married in the spring. Jiang Biao had also taken a wife in his fief.
Jiang Yuan had a good ending in this life. Xifeng was stationed to guard the border with Song Kingdom, and Jiang Yuan’s fief was right there—so the couple went to live together.
Lady Li had fallen out of favor and was melancholic—but since Jiang Yuan hadn’t repeated her past life’s tragedy, she was still alive. With the Empress Dowager’s permission, she went to Jiang Yuan’s fief to spend her remaining years.
The times weren’t too strict—unless the emperor was unwilling to part with them, those over forty could go live with their children in their enfeoffed lands.
Jiang Miao’s husband was the same as in the previous life—steady and kind, a good match for her temperament. He held a minor post in the capital.
Before their weddings, Jiang Nong had sent generous gifts.
This time, Jiang Yuan wrote that she was three months pregnant. She asked Jiang Nong—married for a year now—whether there was any news, and expressed hope they could become in-laws, binding their families even closer.
Good idea—but Jiang Nong wasn’t keen. Though cousin marriages were common, she felt such close blood ties shouldn’t be intermarried. The thought of siblings marrying each other was hard to accept.
This batch also included a letter from Jiang Su—she’d given birth to a son, a clever one.
In a few years, Grand Commandant Chen would probably attempt rebellion.
Yu Lingxin was boneless as ever, lazily resting his head on Jiang Nong’s as they read together. She didn’t stop him—there was nothing secret in the letters. She wasn’t plotting rebellion. Though given their history, plotting rebellion would be perfectly understandable.
“Cousins—truly a match made in heaven. It seems everyone loves pairing cousins together.” Yu Lingxin’s tone dripped with sarcasm.
Jiang Nong couldn’t tell which cousins he meant.
She tapped his head: “Maybe cousins on the mother’s side?”
She reached around his neck and covered one of his eyes—leaving only the purple one exposed, watery and gleaming like polished gemstone. Such a beautiful eye—and yet it couldn’t see.
Yu Lingxin couldn’t read the rest of the letter. He pursed his lips, didn’t push her hand away, and said mockingly: “If you really hate me, just have a crown prince early, poison me, and become Empress Dowager ruling behind the curtain—you’d never have to see me again. Follow your sister’s example.”
“I’d love to—but what if you catch me? What if my poison doesn’t work?” Jiang Nong let go and tucked the read letters back into their envelopes.
The world spun. She was suddenly pressed onto the carpet. Yu Lingxin cradled her head—no pain, only a kiss on her eyelid.
“Then try it? See if you can poison me.”
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