…
Who asked you? Who asked you? WHO ASKED YOU?
If you’re embarrassed, then don’t say it!
Are you trying to show off, or are you actually embarrassed?
Lü Chengcheng knelt, his old face flushing red and pale by turns.
I said it all along! That disaster Xi Kingdom sent over was never a good thing! Look, look, look! This is exactly what they intended—to bewitch His Majesty! And now they’ve succeeded!
The other ministers naturally couldn’t just follow Yu Lingxin’s lead—since he’d already laid it out so plainly, the meaning was clear. Who would bring up something truly embarrassing? Only someone who wanted to show off would be so roundabout.
For once, they’d correctly guessed His Majesty’s intent. For once, flattery wouldn’t backfire.
They scrambled over each other, afraid of being too slow, delivering their praise with flair and volume.
“No wonder we smelled jasmine the moment we entered the hall. We thought it was some winter-blooming flower—it turns out it was the Empress’s handiwork.”
“We don’t have Your Majesty’s good fortune. My humble wife is dull and pays me little heed—who could compare to Her Highness’s thoughtfulness?”
…
Yu Lingxin found their flattery unusually pleasant for the first time. No wonder everyone wanted to be emperor—say one thing, and people rushed to echo it.
He’d heard enough, and the ministers’ mouths were dry. He waved them off: “It’s getting late. Stay for the midday meal before you go, my beloved ministers. The provinces have presented some fine fox furs—with this bitter cold and biting wind, I’m sure you’ll find them useful.”
Well, well—he’d been properly pleased. Even “beloved ministers” had slipped out, and meals were granted.
Everyone left the study beaming—except Lü Chengcheng—and were escorted by the Yellow Gate attendants to dine.
…
The snow fell for three days straight, then finally cleared. The Chief Astronomer observed the night sky and reported that heavy snow would continue for the next seven days.
Whenever heavy snow hit, merchants would hoard goods and grain prices would rise. The Minister of Agriculture needed to stock up early, and the Price Stabilization Commissioner was responsible for controlling grain prices.
In past years, merchants would have already caught wind and raised prices. This year, though grain prices had risen slightly, the purchase price from farmers was disproportionately low compared to the sale price—in fact, grain was being bought from farmers at lower cost.
Most of Fengye’s grain-producing land was in Fujing, so this cheap grain could only have come from there. And this year, the grain tax had just been reformed.
The Price Stabilization Commissioner immediately submitted a memorial. At the same time, Yu Lingxin received Shen Chunlou’s report—they both addressed the same issue.
In previous years, land was concentrated in the hands of large landowners—wealthy merchants or officials. Not only did they have their own grain shops to absorb supply, but they also had the power to balance prices and negotiate with merchants on annual grain prices. If grain shops didn’t buy from them and only sourced from smallholders, it wouldn’t be enough. So for years, grain merchants and powerful households had formed an unspoken agreement—a little give-and-take, and everyone profited.
Now that Fujing’s land tax had been reformed, large tracts of land had flowed back to the people. The common farmers had no leverage against these merchants. The merchants and wealthy households kept their purchase prices the same—but jointly drove down what they paid the farmers. With the price hike from the snow, they profited even more.
Some farmers now had more land but earned less from selling their grain than in previous years. Who could they turn to?
The land tax reform itself wasn’t wrong—it was beneficial. But the greed of those seeking profit had created a downside.
The Price Stabilization Commissioner and Shen Chunlou proposed regulating grain prices to prevent harm to the people—fixing purchase prices. Jiang Nong read their proposals and agreed they made sense.
Yu Lingxin remained silent, offering no approval. Jiang Nong knew he had another malicious scheme in mind.
But on this matter, she had never been more in favor of his wickedness.
She wanted to know what he was thinking. After washing up, she got into bed and kept patting his pillow, trying to summon him.
“Yu Lingxin. Yu Lingxin. Yu Lingxin. Are you done yet?”
“What’s the rush? I’m drinking water.”
Yu Lingxin had seen her waiting and deliberately kept her hanging, drinking several cups of water outside before strolling over slowly.
The moment he lay down, Jiang Nong noticed his face and hands were still dry. She couldn’t help asking: “What happened to the jasmine balm I gave you?” He hadn’t used it since she’d applied it that once—did he find it unpleasant? That couldn’t be—she’d made it herself.
Yu Lingxin edged closer and rested his head on her shoulder.
His head wasn’t large, but it was heavy. Jiang Nong attributed that to all the bad ideas packed inside—solid weight, naturally.
She pushed his head away. He leaned back, but this time with less weight, so she let him be.
“I can’t use it. Won’t spread.”
Jiang Nong was puzzled: “How could it not spread? Bring it here—let me see.”
Yu Lingxin pursed his lips briefly, then quickly resumed his usual expression. He fetched the small white glass jar, scooped out a bit, and rubbed it between his palms—still a white, pasty mess. It really wouldn’t spread.
Huh? It was fine just a few days ago?
Jiang Nong didn’t believe it. She scooped out a bit herself and rubbed it—the solidified chunk melted instantly in her palm, turning into a smooth, silky balm, then into a glossy liquid.
Yu Lingxin was still rubbing his palms together. After a long while, he showed her—still the same.
Then it struck her: Yu Lingxin’s body temperature was low. That’s probably why it wouldn’t work for him.
“Forget it—just bring it to me from now on. I’ll apply it for you.” As she spoke, Jiang Nong spread the melted jasmine balm over his face, then took his hands and worked it into his skin. She muttered, puzzled: “Why are you so cold? I don’t remember you being this cold in your previous life. Are you really a ghost?”
“Maybe I am. You’re holding a dead man’s hand.”
His words sent a chill through her. She slapped him: “Stop it—that’s creepy. You just lost too much blood at the hunting grounds. Your body hasn’t recovered yet.”
Yu Lingxin deflected: “What happens when it runs out?”
It took Jiang Nong a moment to realize he meant the jasmine balm.
“I have plenty more—I’ll give you more when the time comes. The Imperial Household will have it too. You can buy it outside. You’re an emperor now—why are you asking such poverty-stricken questions about not having enough to eat tomorrow? People would laugh at you.”
“If you don’t tell them, who would know? Then when I finish this jar, you give me another.” Jiang Nong was earnestly rubbing his hands. He looked down, his gaze drifting across her forehead, nose, lips, eyes—his eyes curving slightly, shimmering like starlight. Only when she looked up did he look away, as if he’d never been watching.
For a moment, they might have been in love.
Jiang Nong tossed his hands back at him: “I was going to ask you about the grain prices. Almost forgot.”
“First, have the Price Stabilization Commissioner buy grain from farmers at high prices. The rest—wait and see. You’ll have results in half a month at most. Doing business comes with losses. If you’re going to squeeze the people, you’d better be able to take the hit.” He smiled and flicked her chin, leaving a trace of jasmine.
Jiang Nong knew that smile meant someone was about to suffer.
Early the next morning, the Agricultural Office sent people to Fujing to buy grain in bulk—at the average price of previous years.
Such a large-scale grain purchase hadn’t happened since the famine three years ago.
Though news was kept quiet, the grain merchants watched the Agricultural Office’s movements closely. Within half a day, every grain merchant near Fengye knew the court was stockpiling heavily in anticipation of a snow disaster.
Grain prices shot up. With the Agricultural Office setting a purchase price, merchants had no choice but to raise their own buying prices—double what they’d been the year before.
Prices climbed steadily. Even Fengye’s common citizens caught wind, fearing a shortage, and rushed to buy grain. The price jumped from ten coins per sheng to twenty, then thirty—and kept rising.
The merchants were waiting for the heavy snow to drive prices even higher. Naturally, they weren’t about to sell off their stock now.
Qian Dayou’s grain shop was the largest in Fengye. Customers were lined up outside, but the shop had closed its doors. The clerk announced: “Today’s grain is sold out. If you still want to buy, come early tomorrow.”
The waiting customers were furious and started arguing with the clerk.
“You’re open for business—why won’t you sell to us?”
“We can see grain inside! You just won’t sell—you profiteers!”
“We’re going to report you to the authorities!”
The clerk smirked: “What law says we have to sell just because we have grain? We’re not selling. Go elsewhere.”
A fight was about to break out when the Golden Guard patrol arrived and dispersed the crowd.
The clerk gleefully reported the scene to his master, then voiced a concern: “Master, what if the snow doesn’t come this year? Won’t we be stuck with all this grain?”
Qian Dayou was rotund, his beady eyes squeezed into two slits by his plump cheeks. He stroked his little mustache, his eyes disappearing into a smile: “No snow? Hah—with the court buying up grain like this, how could it not come? Even if it doesn’t, as long as all the grain merchants in Fengye and Fujing work together, we’ll make back our costs.”
“Young man, you’re still shallow, too inexperienced.”
Qian Dayou pointed a stubby finger at the clerk. The clerk bowed and scraped, flattering: “Master is wise, master is wise.”
The grain chaos among the people naturally reached the officials’ ears. After the Marquis Chengen affair, they no longer dared to second-guess His Majesty’s intentions. They reported everything just as it happened.
Yu Lingxin accepted their memorials and set them aside without comment. The officials understood—this grain purchase was His Majesty’s doing—and said no more.
That night, Yu Lingxin habitually leaned his face in for Jiang Nong to apply the balm. She was in a good mood and even dabbed some jasmine oil on his lips.
“Press your lips together—they won’t chap tomorrow.”
He did as she said, then asked: “Aren’t you curious about what I’ll do next?”
Jiang Nong actually considered it, then held back: “Not curious.”
He’d been waiting for her to ask. Now that she said she wasn’t, all his words stuck in his throat.
“Fine, if you’re not curious.” Defeated, he turned over to sleep.
Before long, just as Jiang Nong was drifting off, he flipped back, turned her over to face him, propped his head on his hand, and shook her awake: “You’re not curious? I’m going to tell you anyway.”
Jiang Nong knew it.
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