When the news arrived, Tan was still abuzz with the abolition of registered servitude.
Song had accused Yu Lingxin of disregarding the people and treating lives like grass—originally hoping to stir up trouble through Qi Prefecture and trap Yu Lingxin between internal and external crises. The saying goes: he who loses the people’s hearts loses the realm. But unexpectedly, the matter had already been properly resolved. The people’s voices did not all turn against Yu Lingxin as Song had anticipated—instead, Song found itself in an awkward position, unable to prove its own innocence.
Just as Yu Lingxin had planted spies in Dang and Xi, he certainly had them in Song as well. The spies had incited the princes against each other, using the lives of the people to frame another kingdom—a thoroughly dishonorable act. The Song emperor’s secret orders were so closely guarded that even the Empress did not know of them.
Before Song could pin the blame for the floods on Tan, the two rival princes began tearing at each other. One of them seized the upper hand, presenting evidence to prove that the other faction’s negligence—failing to open the sluices on time—had caused the displacement of the two counties’ people.
With the evidence irrefutable, the Song emperor had no choice but to punish the guilty according to the law. Watching his son gloat, believing he had won a great victory, the Song ruler’s teeth itched with fury. He knew his son was being used as a pawn—but also knew that shifting the blame to someone else was the best course of action.
Yu Lingxin was truly cunning and treacherous.
Song naturally had to apologize and offer reparations to Tan.
A petty, scheming man like Yu Lingxin would never let such an opportunity pass. He accepted Song’s reparations, then added with feigned magnanimity: “Since Song is unable to bear the burden of relief and has instead shifted the blame to us, I—being a tolerant man—am willing to accept Song’s displaced people into Tan.”
He said all the fine words. On one side, Tan’s generous benevolence in abolishing the servitude system; on the other, Song’s shifting of blame by redirecting the flood disaster. Everyone knew which side to choose.
Jiang Nong converted Song’s gold and silver reparations into grain and sent it back to Song, expressing that even though the five kingdoms were divided, they had once been one nation just decades ago—blood remained thicker than water, and she was willing to do her part for the victims.
Even if part of this was to sway Song’s populace, Jiang Nong genuinely felt that those people were innocent. All this turmoil, all this back-and-forth—it was always the common people who suffered.
Hearts are made of flesh. Since the floods, the displaced people along Song’s border had been eager to flee into Tan—only to be stopped by border troops, with many executed as a warning. But the more they were suppressed, the more rebellious they became; many slipped away under cover of night.
With their homes destroyed, many would have been forced into servitude if they stayed in Song. Better to flee to Tan, where they could register as commoners and at least avoid slavery.
In mid-September, conflict broke out between Song’s border troops and the displaced people. Several Tan merchants were mistakenly killed. Despite repeated attempts to suppress the news, it spread like wildfire to all the kingdoms.
Since Tan’s fruits and crops had gained fame, many merchants had been traveling between the kingdoms.
Tan and Song already had old grievances. Now with a legitimate justification, Yu Lingxin seized the opportunity to send troops—with Wei Xiao as commander—capturing six commanderies of Song before signing a truce.
Song had already ceded cities before; now with another six commanderies lost, it had become the smallest of the five kingdoms. After repeated schemes that yielded no good results, they finally quieted down. Meanwhile, in just five years, Tan had transformed into the most expansive kingdom.
The balance of power was broken. The other three kingdoms grew uneasy. But Yu Lingxin was content with his life now—as long as no one jumped on his head, he wouldn’t stir up trouble. As for the future, that would be for those who came after to handle.
He alternated between coercion and appeasement, expressing that Tan had no desire to start wars. He accepted congratulatory gifts from the three kingdoms and sent their envoys back.
After all this upheaval, the treasury—barely refilled—was once again running low. They would have to wait until next year’s land taxes came in to recover. Jiang Nong plugged the gaps with surplus from the Court of the Imperial Treasury, while palace expenses were drawn from Yu Lingxin and her private coffers.
Yu Lingxin had been full of confidence, planning to lavish Jiang Nong with gifts this winter. But when the Court of the Imperial Treasury tallied the accounts, he realized it was empty.
The sky was so blue, the clouds so white, the world so vast. He wiped his face as he watched a bird flutter past, and let out a long sigh.
No wonder the meals had been getting increasingly vegetarian lately.
But no matter what, he couldn’t let Jiang Nong go without, couldn’t let her suffer any hardship—so Yu Lingxin altered his own clothes from last year to wear again this year, redirecting all his own allowances to her.
Ever since Yu Lingxin had taken over her daily expenses, Jiang Nong no longer had to worry about such trivialities. But she still had a good sense of how much money there was, how it should be spent, and how much to use. Winter clothes naturally required more fabric than summer or autumn ones. She had expected this year’s winter wardrobe wouldn’t be too extravagant—but when the garments arrived, the quality was far superior to last year’s.
She’d thought Yu Lingxin must have saved up some private funds—until she saw him still wearing the familiar old clothes from last year. Only then did she realize he’d given his own new clothes allowance to her.
Jiang Nong hadn’t expected that despite all they’d been through, they’d end up with that “poor couple’s every woe” feeling.
She sat on the cushion, hugging her knees, staring at the pile of clothes in silence.
Yu Lingxin was getting better and better at knowing what she liked. The colors, the fabrics, the craftsmanship, the patterns—all were to her taste. The hairpins and headpieces were beautiful too.
Pale green, soft yellow, with occasional vibrant rose pink or misty purple pieces she’d wear on a whim.
Though luxurious, they were elegantly understated, exquisitely made—clearly valuable to the touch.
She held back, neither reaching out to touch them nor showing any delight.
In truth, it was just that this year had been too eventful, stretching their finances thin. Next year’s tax revenue would ease things. She and Yu Lingxin could simply tighten their belts together—why did he have to give her all the best?
Yu Lingxin entered from outside, bringing a chill of late autumn with him as he pushed through the curtain. Seeing her staring blankly at the clothes and jewelry with a troubled expression, he came up from behind and pressed his cold hands to her face, startling her: “What’s wrong? Not going to try them on? If they don’t fit, I’ll have them adjusted.”
Jiang Nong pouted, rubbing his cold hands between hers: “I don’t like them. They’re ugly. I don’t want these.”
She stole a glance at his expression from the corner of her eye.
It probably didn’t feel good to have something you’d put so much thought into rejected—especially since he’d given up his own allowance for her. And here she was being difficult, picky, ungrateful. He must be upset.
If he got angry, that would be perfect—she could reason with him. If he was angry, he’d listen; he wouldn’t pull this sort of thing again next time.
But Yu Lingxin’s expression didn’t change. Finding that strange, she added: “Yu Lingxin, your taste is really terrible. I don’t like any of it. I’m going to throw it all out.”
Surely that would make him angry. She’d said such harsh, picky things.
Yu Lingxin acted as if he hadn’t heard. She was about to ask if he’d even listened—when he suddenly scooped her up by the waist and tossed her into the air.
No way—was he so angry he was throwing her out?
She quickly wrapped her arms around his neck and punched his chest: “What are you doing?”
Yu Lingxin was beaming, his dimples deep, eyes bright. He tossed her up and caught her, again and again, then tightened his arms and hugged her fiercely, licking and nibbling at her face like a dog—leaving teeth marks and saliva everywhere.
Jiang Nong didn’t know whether to cover her face or hold his neck: “What are you doing?! What are you doing?!”
“I’m happy.”
Jiang Nong couldn’t believe it. She poked his cheek: “Do you have canine distemper? I’m being completely unreasonable—and you’re happy about it?”
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