HCT – Chapter 86 Steaming Pumpkin Across the Water

The harvest festivals and New Year celebrations across the land brought a breath of relief to the people of Shu Commandery. Even the public security in Chengdu had noticeably improved.

Harvest management didn’t demand much effort from Zhu Xiang, so he finally found some leisure time. He took Ying Zheng to the hot spring villa they had long prepared but never had time to visit, turning the trip into both a vacation and a chance to check up on Ying Zheng’s studies.

The villa was located in Mount Emei.

Zhu Xiang only knew that the hot springs in Mount Emei came from geothermal waters around three thousand meters underground. He didn’t realize these thermal springs had already been surfacing from the fault zone at Erhekou and were known locally as “divine springs.” Since hot spring bathing wasn’t a widespread custom yet, there were few records of it.

However, high-ranking officials and local elites had already set their sights on these natural hot springs as ideal winter retreats.

At this time, Mount Emei was already called Mount Emei. Although it didn’t yet boast the many temples and scenic attractions it would later be known for, it was still a remarkably beautiful and famous mountain.

Li Bing, though a practical and capable official, wasn’t one to deny himself a bit of enjoyment.

After choosing the hot spring villa closest to Chengdu for Zhu Xiang, he even paid to have the place renovated according to his own aesthetic preferences.

Clear hot spring water flowed along pebble-paved channels, filtered layer by layer through dense nets woven from fine bamboo strips, and pooled into stone-tiled hot spring baths. From there, the water would drain off through another small channel.

When the villa was inhabited, the servants would clean the channels and baths daily, replace the filters, and ensure the water stayed clean.

These servants had all been recruited for Zhu Xiang by Li Bing.

Compared to the average aristocrat or official, Zhu Xiang’s lifestyle was considered rather “rough.”

Li Bing had heard from Zhu Xiang that back in Xianyang, his life had depended entirely on servants gifted by the King of Qin. When Zhu Xiang came to Shu, he brought a number of these attendants with him. Li Bing had assumed Zhu Xiang would raise Young Lord Zheng in the same refined style as in Xianyang.

He quickly realized he was very wrong.

Young Lord Zheng could actually dress himself, comb his own hair, and wash up on his own. This was how Zhu Xiang cared for the Prince of Qin? This was mistreatment!

Zhu Xiang was left dazed by Li Bing’s scolding, while Li Mu sat nearby munching on an orange and nodding in agreement.

He had wanted to say the same thing long ago but lacked the verbal skill to win an argument with Zhu Xiang’s twisted logic.

When Li Bing went to Ba Commandery, he entrusted the responsibility of tending to Zhu Xiang’s daily needs to his wife, Lady Wang.

In the pre-Qin era, women were referred to by their xing (clan name) and men by their shi (lineage name), but by this time, the distinction between xing and shi had largely disappeared.

By the time Liu Bang founded the Western Han, the fusion of xing and shi had become widespread among the populace, to the point that even scholars couldn’t fully make sense of the pre-Qin naming system anymore. A shift in societal consensus like this doesn’t happen overnight—Liu Bang was only three years younger than Qin Shi Huang, which shows the unification had already taken hold during the Qin state’s rule.

Excavated records of pre-Qin notable figures confirm this. Aside from a few nobles related to the royal clan—like Lian Po—most people no longer listed their xing and shi separately.

Li Bing and Lady Wang followed this custom as well. Yet the old nobility of the Six Kingdoms still referred to officials like them as “poor-born gentry,” the early “noblemen from humble origins.”

Lady Wang had first gifted Zhu Xiang and Ying Zheng many beautiful maids. When Ying Zheng noticed one particularly lovely maid trying to seduce Zhu Xiang (though his uncle was completely oblivious to the attempt), he personally went to Lady Wang and had all the maids replaced with sturdy, broad-shouldered middle-aged women.

Zhu Xiang didn’t know why the change was made, but he was quite pleased. He had already been planning to return the maids once things settled down—he felt too embarrassed to ask such delicate girls to do labor. Zhu Xiang even doubted whether they could lift Zheng’er.

His nephew was solid.

After Li Bing returned to Chengdu, Lady Wang anxiously reported the matter to him.

Li Bing was half-amused, half-exasperated. “Zhu Xiang has only just come of age, and his wife isn’t by his side. If it were anyone else, they would surely want some pleasing maids around. What you did wasn’t wrong. But since Zhu Xiang never brought it up to me, it means he didn’t take it to heart.”

Li Bing paused, then added with an odd smile, “Actually, he did complain—said the maids your ladyship sent couldn’t even lift Zheng’er. You sent not just the women but their whole families, with their contracts included, so he could use them as he pleased. Zhu Xiang is a friend to me, and Zheng’er is like a nephew. There’s no need to treat them like court nobles.”

Lady Wang fretted, “But Lord Zhu is a fief lord, and Young Lord Zheng is the Qin prince…”

Li Bing said, “Zhu Xiang treats me with sincerity. If I start tiptoeing around their titles, I’d be insulting his sincerity. It was my fault for not explaining this to you.”

He realized his wife had acted out of a desire to curry favor with important people, misunderstanding Zhu Xiang and Zheng’er’s status in Li Bing’s eyes. That’s why she had carefully chosen beautiful girls to serve them.

Li Bing had risen to govern a commandery before the age of thirty. Alongside his pragmatism, he also knew how to be tactful. Building relationships with the powerful was one of the most crucial skills for an official.

Since he couldn’t always appear in person to forge these relationships, he often let his wife handle social interactions among the women.

But though Li Bing could be diplomatic, he was not a sycophant. If someone required flattery, he’d offer it—but to those like Zhu Xiang and Li Mu, who treated him with genuine friendship, he returned that sincerity in full.

After hearing his explanation, Lady Wang—though still intimidated by Zhu Xiang and Zheng’er’s noble status—agreed to follow his wishes.

She sighed, “Then… do you think Lord Zhu or Young Lord Zheng resent me?”

Li Bing said, “Zhu Xiang probably has no idea what you were thinking. As for Zheng’er… Zheng’er is very proud. He wouldn’t complain lightly.”

After spending time with him, Li Bing had already seen past Ying Zheng’s obedient-nephew façade. Beneath it, his heart was a bit too cold and hard.

He even suspected that while Ying Zheng clung to Li Mu’s leg every day calling him “Teacher,” his feelings toward Li Mu weren’t as deep as they seemed—except when it came to Zhu Xiang.

From chatting with Ying Zheng, Li Bing gathered that apart from his uncle and aunt, the people he felt most connected to were “Uncle Lin” and “Elder Lin,” followed by “Elder Lian” and “Elder Xun,” with “Teacher” and “Uncle Cai” coming after.

As for himself, he probably hadn’t yet made it into the proud Qin prince’s inner circle.

“Don’t go out of your way to please Young Lord Zheng,” Li Bing cautioned. “Though still a child, his mind is sharper than most adults’. He’s an extraordinary one—if you treat him like a child and try to deceive him, he’ll surely grow to resent it.”

Lady Wang smiled wryly. “I wouldn’t dare. When he came to ask me to replace the maids, I couldn’t sleep for several nights.”

For a child still in pigtails to be that rational, intelligent, and even a little cold—it was eerie, almost inhuman.

Li Bing thought of the stark contrast between Ying Zheng’s warm deference toward Zhu Xiang and his cool detachment elsewhere, and he couldn’t help but chuckle ruefully.

Yes, it was a little scary.

With the addition of servants and their families sent by Li Bing, Zhu Xiang’s household finally became livelier.

The ones sent by the King of Qin mostly served as guards and weren’t very experienced in domestic chores.

Lounging in the hot spring bath, Zhu Xiang sighed at how comfortable life was when one had attendants—but still, it didn’t quite match modern standards.

Just as he was basking in that thought, Ying Zheng kicked over, paddling in the water with a leather swimming ring, and splashed him full in the face with hot spring water.

Zhu Xiang had barely wiped his face when Ying Zheng swam past again, drenching him a second time.

“…Zheng’er, are you doing this on purpose?” Zhu Xiang asked.

Ying Zheng kicked harder and swam away.

Zhu Xiang smirked and gave chase, launching into a water fight with his nephew.

Ying Zheng giggled like a little hen, full of delight.

After playing to their hearts’ content, Ying Zheng said, “If Uncle Lin were here, I could team up with him and we’d definitely beat you!”

Zhu Xiang replied, “He alone is enough to beat me. With you added, we’d be even.”

Ying Zheng paused, then realized his uncle was saying he was the one dragging Uncle Lin down. Enraged, he grabbed Zhu Xiang’s arm and pretended to gnaw on it.

Zhu Xiang laughed. “Go ahead and chew. You’ll probably start losing your baby teeth next year. That tiny mouthful won’t last long.”

Ying Zheng looked puzzled. “Losing teeth?”

Zhu Xiang gleefully explained, “Your teeth will fall out one by one, and your speech will sound all leaky.”

Ying Zheng’s mouth formed an O.

Lose teeth? He hadn’t seen that in his dreams! Why hadn’t this terrifying detail shown up?

Zhu Xiang teased, “And that’s not all. When the new teeth grow in, your gums will itch terribly. It’s super uncomfortable.”

“I don’t want to lose my teeth!” Ying Zheng shrieked.

Zhu Xiang laughed harder. “Too bad, you don’t get a choice! Hahaha! And if you bite on hard things to scratch the itch, your teeth will grow in all crooked—super ugly!”

Ying Zheng immediately covered his mouth, horrified. “Uncle, are you lying to me?”

Zhu Xiang smirked. “Uncle never lies to Zheng’er.”

Ying Zheng pouted. “No, this time you must be lying!”

Just then, Li Mu arrived with a basket of pumpkin flowers and tips, coming to enjoy the hot springs and take a break. Ying Zheng nearly rammed into his basket headfirst.

Li Mu protected the basket and frowned. “Zhu Xiang, what did you do to Zheng’er this time?”

Zhu Xiang took the basket from him and said, “When have I ever bullied him?”

Ying Zheng complained tearfully, “Teacher, Uncle said I’ll lose my teeth next year!”

Li Mu thought about his age and replied, “That’s true. If not next year, then the year after—you’ll definitely start losing them soon.”

Ying Zheng: “No, I don’t want to lose my baby teeth. It’s uncomfortable.”

Li Mu rubbed his temples. “That’s… that’s just not something you can avoid.”

Zhu Xiang, grinning, carried a basket into the kitchen, tossing the sulky nephew he had teased into Li Mu’s arms. “See? I wasn’t bullying him. I was just telling the truth. Since when is that bullying?”

Watching Zhu Xiang’s cheerful back, Li Mu clenched his fists, fighting the urge to punch him.  But Zhu Xiang’s body was so frail, he feared one punch might actually kill him—then he’d be on his knees begging him not to die. So he held back.

Li Mu: “Be good, Zheng’er. Losing your baby teeth is a good thing. Don’t you want to grow up? Losing your teeth means you’re growing up. After that, you’ll start getting taller—like bamboo shoots shooting up into bamboo stalks.”

Hearing Li Mu coaxing him, Ying Zheng turned his head away, face blank. “I want to grow up, but I don’t want to lose teeth. I’ll still grow taller even if I don’t.”

Zhu Xiang, who had walked a few meters away, turned back and added: “Oh, right. When you start growing fast, there’s something called growing pains. Your leg bones ache, and you get cramps at night. It’s awful.”

He quickly left, leaving his little nephew shrieking with anger.

Li Mu covered one ear against the high-pitched yelling. Only Zhu Xiang could provoke the precocious Zheng’er into behaving like a normal, tantrum-throwing child. He really was asking for a beating.

He suddenly missed Lord Lian and Lord Xun terribly. Only their disciplinary rulers could keep Zhu Xiang in line.

Li Mu: “Don’t be mad, Zheng’er. Let’s write to Lord Lian and Lord Xun. Let them punish your uncle.”

Ying Zheng, still seething, said, “I’m not a child. I’m not tattling. When I grow up, I’ll get even!”

Li Mu: “Oh? How?”

Ying Zheng: “When he gets sick, he’s only allowed to eat plain porridge with a little salt. Nothing else! And I’ll tell the imperial physician to put extra huanglian in his medicine!”

Li Mu: “…That’s actually a very good revenge plan.”

He had to hold it in. He couldn’t laugh, or Zheng’er would get even angrier.

A little later, Li Bing arrived with a cut of lamb, ready to mooch off a meal too. He and Li Mu both owned vacation estates in this hot spring area, right next to Zhu Xiang, so they could come over anytime for food.

Hearing Ying Zheng’s fierce threats of future revenge, Li Bing couldn’t help but laugh and feel a bit guilty—he’d just been talking behind Zheng’er’s back. But now, seeing the childish side of the boy, he realized he had misjudged him.

Zheng’er was still a child—not as cold-hearted as he’d thought.

Zhu Xiang came out to take the lamb from Li Bing and playfully scraped his finger down Ying Zheng’s nose, making the chubby nephew puff up like an angry porcupine.

Thankfully, delicious food healed Zheng’er’s wounded little heart.

Braised lamb was cooked with freshly harvested soybeans and potatoes. Pumpkin shoots were blanched and drizzled with soybean oil and garlic sauce. Pumpkin flowers, after removing the bitter pistils, were dipped in an egg-and-flour batter and deep-fried… Zhu Xiang prepared a table full of seasonal dishes that made everyone’s mouths water.

Li Bing: “What’s this flavor?” he asked after tasting the braised lamb. “It’s spicy like ginger and garlic, but there’s something fresh about it.”

Li Mu: “It’s a bit like Zanthoxylum oil, but better.”

Zhu Xiang: “It’s green chili. I planted chili peppers in my courtyard in Chengdu—I told you about it.”

They suddenly remembered how Zhu Xiang had dug up his flowerbeds and planted all sorts of strange crops. He’d grown so many odd plants that no one had paid attention to what exactly they were.

Zhu Xiang: “They’re both pungent, but chili tastes better than Zanthoxylum oil and is easier to grow. Shu Commandery is hot and humid, so people will probably enjoy a new spicy vegetable.  Still, grain is the priority, so I haven’t promoted it publicly—just planted it for myself. If you guys like it, I’ll share some seeds with you.”

Since Li Mu and Li Bing had both been granted large tracts of farmland and servants after arriving in Shu, they happily accepted.

Zhu Xiang: “I also brought some wheat and rice seeds that can be sown in winter and harvested next summer. But since I don’t know how Shu’s soil and climate will affect the yield, and since people just suffered a flood, I didn’t want to push a new grain on them just yet. Can I use some of your fields for testing?”

After they had finished eating, Zhu Xiang finally revealed his real reason for inviting them—smiling as he asked them to “pay for the meal.”

Li Mu sighed. “I knew it. You’ve been lazy for ages and now suddenly offering to host a feast—definitely suspicious.”

Li Bing, expressionless, added, “And the meat and ingredients were all from us two.”

Zhu Xiang: “Just say yes or no.”

He rubbed his hands together like a local rascal. “You ate my food—now you owe me land. Don’t be stingy, I only need a little.”

Li Bing: “It’s not about stinginess. Just go and claim what you need. But haven’t you already been given fertile land? Isn’t it enough?”

Zhu Xiang: “I used it all to grow legumes.”

Li Bing was puzzled, then realized—Zhu Xiang was likely giving the grain to the common people. He might’ve even rented out his land to landless peasants.

Li Bing: “You…” He frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Zhu Xiang: “It’s my land—I can grow whatever I want. Why would I need your permission? Right now, I don’t have empty land to trial new crops. Hand over some of yours. The wheat and rice I brought taste better and should yield more than the local varieties. This is for your benefit—so hurry up and thank me.”

Li Mu: “Fine. Thank you, Lord Changping. After the harvest, I’ll take you to pick out land. I’ll also start teaching Zheng’er to ride. He’s older after the New Year—time for a pony.”

Just-harvested fields would be great for riding.

Li Bing: “If you need oxen, just go to the local authorities and take what you need.”

Qin had officials specifically assigned to manage oxen, and Li Bing had recently brought in a new batch for Shu.

Ying Zheng, crunching on deep-fried pumpkin flowers sprinkled with sugar, had bright, thoughtful eyes.

His teacher and Governor Li were praising his uncle again.

He felt proud.

That’s the kind of person his uncle was—strict with himself, generous with others. He never expected others to follow his lead and always came up with excuses so his friends and family could relax and enjoy life without pressure.

Being friends with his uncle didn’t feel like a burden—even though his uncle was practically a sage.

Crunch, crunch…

Ying Zheng raised his bowl. “Uncle, I haven’t had enough. I want more pumpkin flowers.”

Zhu Xiang lightly tapped his gluttonous nephew on the forehead. “Hold on. You’ve eaten all the flowers—how will we get pumpkins now? Pumpkins taste better than flowers. When they’re ripe, I’ll make you pumpkin cake.”

Ying Zheng obediently put his bowl down and didn’t throw a tantrum. “Okay.”

Li Bing sighed. “Zheng’er is really so well-behaved. Every time I think of my own kid… sigh.”

Zhu Xiang: “Your family’s arriving in Chengdu soon? Your son’s coming too? Wasn’t he staying back?”

Li Bing had come ahead to Shu. Lady Wang came later, and the household—with women and goods—had been delayed by rain for over a month. Winter hadn’t yet arrived.

Li Bing: “My eldest stayed back to study and seek office. The second boy—he’s too unruly, my mother couldn’t manage him, so I brought him to Shu for discipline.”

At the mention of his second son, Li Bing covered his face.

Zhu Xiang: “Second son? Wait… Isn’t that the Li Erlang honored at the Dujiangyan temple?”

But from how Li Bing described him, Li Erlang sounded like a little hellion.

Li Bing sighed repeatedly. “Yes, my second son… how do I put it? He’s not good at literature or martial arts. He’s strong and bright, but doesn’t want to earn merit on the battlefield or work for nobility. All he dreams about is becoming a wandering swordsmen in Yan and Zhao. Youxia? They’re just thugs with swords! He wanders around with a sword and has been arrested by officials more than once…”

“Ahem! Ahem!” Li Mu and Zhu Xiang both coughed loudly to interrupt him.

Ying Zheng, holding his water cup, giggled and reminded, “Uncle Bing, both my teacher and uncle are from Zhao.”

Li Bing: “Wait, you two were wandering swordsmen too?”

Li Mu: “Not exactly. But many of my men used to be.”

Zhu Xiang: “Not all wandering swordsmen are… thugs. The people of Yan and Zhao value martial strength. If a commoner wants to become a noble’s retainer and doesn’t have a famous teacher, the only way is to become a wandering swordsmen and gain a reputation through bravery. But for Li Erlang to try and be a wandering swordsmen in Qin… yeah, he’s not in the right place for that.”

In Qin, unemployed idlers were forbidden from strolling around with swords—anyone caught would be arrested and sent to do forced labor. This second son of the Li family, who fancied himself a wandering swordsman, was surely a source of endless worry for Li Bing.

Li Bing smiled bitterly. “He really wants to go to Yan and Zhao and join Lord Xinling or Lord Pingyuan. Isn’t that a death wish? He’ll even drag his family down with him!”

Zhu Xiang replied, “When a family’s younger members go to other states seeking official positions, they usually won’t implicate the rest of the family. But Yan and Zhao… they probably aren’t as great as he imagines. Neither is Wei. He’ll only be disappointed when he gets there.”

Li Mu remained silent.

Zhu Xiang poured him a cup of tea.

Although tea trees had undergone many improvements in later generations, making modern tea quite different, ancient tea was also delicious. In the present day, some tea trees had lived over a thousand years, and tea leaves from them were extremely valuable. Zhu Xiang had been fortunate enough to taste some in the name of research. After arriving in Chengdu, he had tea trees transplanted and planned to plant more in his Emei Mountain estate.

Li Mu sipped the tea, his voice low: “Yes. He will be disappointed.”

Only then did Li Bing remember that Li Mu had been “given” to Qin by the state of Zhao, and Zhu Xiang had also been persecuted by Zhao before fleeing to Qin. He quickly stood and bowed in apology.

Li Mu stopped him. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Zhu Xiang smiled. “Just leave your second son with Li Mu for a while. Let him spend some time among real wandering swordsmen in the military. He’ll soon lose interest in becoming one himself. By the way, you’re only thirty—how old is your second son?”

Li Bing said, “Fourteen.”

Zhu Xiang: “…And your eldest?”

Li Bing: “Sixteen.”

Zhu Xiang: “Looks like you married early.”

Li Bing, puzzled: “My marriage age was normal.”

Zhu Xiang, who firmly believed in marrying after eighteen, and Li Mu, who was so busy with military duties that he not only married late but had no children: “…”

Ying Zheng: Pfft.

Zhu Xiang immediately scooped him up and began to playfully rub his head. Ying Zheng nearly spilled his cup.

“Zheng’er, marrying too early isn’t good for your health. And once you marry, you’ll have to move out,” Zhu Xiang said. “How about waiting until you’re at least eighteen?”

Ying Zheng rolled his eyes, too lazy to respond to his absurd uncle. Even if he got married, he could still live with his uncle and aunt. Even if he moved into the palace, they could move in too.

He had no intention of appointing a queen—the inner palace would be managed by his aunt.

In his dream, the First Emperor of Qin had not named a queen because of his mother’s influence and fear of political power held by the queen’s family. Now, Ying Zheng had the same reason—he didn’t trust others.

“Zheng’er is still a child. Don’t corrupt him,” Li Mu said, massaging his forehead. “And besides, Zheng’er’s marriage will be decided by the King of Qin.”

Zhu Xiang thought of Zichu’s sickly appearance and couldn’t help but look worried. “I wonder how Xia Tong’s health is these days. Has he been resting properly and eating on time? He wouldn’t secretly pour out his medicine again, would he?”

Ying Zheng said, “Father would definitely pour the medicine out!”

Zhu Xiang rubbed his head and sighed. “Should I ask the King to issue an edict, assigning someone to monitor him while he eats and takes his medicine?”

Li Bing joked, “I just happen to be delivering documents to the King. Want me to take one from you?” It seemed the rumors about the closeness between Lord Zichu and Zhu Xiang were true.

Zhu Xiang said, “Sure.”

Li Bing froze.

Li Mu set down his teacup. “Don’t joke with him like that—he’ll really do it.”

But Li Mu’s warning came too late. Zhu Xiang actually wrote a long letter to the King of Qin, asking him to assign someone to ensure that Xia Tong ate and took his medicine on time.

This letter was sent to Xianyang along with Li Bing’s request to build a major irrigation system in Shu Commandery.

Li Bing’s memorial described the hardships caused by floods in the region. Knowing that appeals for the people’s suffering might not move the King, he framed his request in terms of food security and transportation—by linking the rivers in Chengdu Plain to the Min River, it would allow water transport to flow from Chengdu all the way to the Yangtze. This would make military and grain transport to Chu and Yue much easier.

In times of flooding, the Min River’s peak flows would be absorbed by the web of rivers in the plain. During droughts, the Min River could irrigate the area. Stable and increased crop yields would follow, providing military provisions for Qin’s unification wars.

This memorial was risky.

As Li Bing had once said, a governor who did nothing and merely collected taxes could live in peace. The more one did, the more danger one faced.

To tame the Min River and turn it into an irrigation source was an enormous project. A dam or bridge could be managed locally, but what Li Bing proposed required the King’s order to mobilize labor and resources across the realm.

Unlike later dynasties, Qin’s court was utilitarian, and its laws were strict. If Li Bing’s project failed to meet expectations, he could be executed for wasting labor and resources.

Writing this memorial was effectively staking his life on it.

To become a governor by thirty, Li Bing was no naive idealist. But now, he was willing to trade his life for a chance at a better future for Shu.

Zhu Xiang didn’t know whether the historical Li Bing had also been driven by seeing people suffer from disasters. But the Li Bing he knew now was such a man.

“I’ll help you,” Zhu Xiang said simply. He didn’t lecture him on caution—he just offered his support.

Li Mu clapped Li Bing’s shoulder and said self-deprecatingly, “Birds of a feather flock together. Let’s go.”

They were kindred spirits who had both acted rashly for causes they believed in. It was hard to say who influenced whom—they probably influenced each other.

Even though Li Bing had made up his mind, he was still uneasy. The unwavering support of friends calmed his heart.

True friends are rare—not measured by how long they’ve known each other, but by the depth of their bond.

He had two such friends. What was there to fear?

Li Bing said, “I want to cast three bronze men to measure the water level. What if I model them after us three?”

Zhu Xiang looked at him oddly. “So we brothers are all sinking into the river together? What kind of dark humor is that? Alright then.”

Li Mu: “…Fine.” Anything for a friend.

The letter was delivered by express courier and took two months to reach Xianyang. Luckily, it didn’t snow, or it would have taken longer.

The King of Qin read Li Bing’s memorial first.

After reading, he remained silent for a long time, then handed it to Crown Prince Zhu.

After reading, Crown Prince Zhu said, “Father, I think this plan is feasible.”

The King asked, “It requires massive resources. Aren’t you afraid of failure?”

Crown Prince Zhu replied with a simple, honest smile, “I don’t trust him, but I trust Zhu Xiang. If the plan wasn’t viable, he would’ve talked Li Bing out of it. People fear for their lives. Zhu Xiang would stop him if it weren’t worth the risk.”

The King nodded. “Fair point. But I don’t think Zhu Xiang did this for merit. Let’s see what he wrote.”

The King opened Zhu Xiang’s letter—and immediately massaged his forehead, both laughing and sighing.

Crown Prince Zhu asked eagerly, “What did he write?”

The King beckoned him over. Crown Prince Zhu jumped up and trotted to his father’s side to read.

“Pfft… He’s asking for a royal edict telling Xia Tong to eat and take his medicine on time. This letter should be sent straight to Xia Tong!” Crown Prince Zhu burst out laughing, “What’s going on in Zhu Xiang’s head? Does he think Xia Tong is like Zheng’er?”

The King said, “To Zhu Xiang, Xia Tong might actually be less reliable than Zheng’er. At least Zheng’er doesn’t need supervision to eat and take medicine.”

Crown Prince Zhu had a mischievous idea. “Since Zhu Xiang’s worrying about it from so far away, why not grant his request?”

The King laughed. “Fine. I’ll issue an edict to Xia Tong: he must eat well, take medicine, no picky eating, and no pouring it out. He really is less mature than Zheng’er.”

Since Zhu Xiang’s departure, the King and Crown Prince hadn’t laughed like this in a long time. Their relationship had reverted to that of monarch and heir. The King remained stern; the Prince, always cautious.

Zhu Xiang’s letter let them briefly return to being father and son.

“So they arrived in Shu just in time for a flood that nearly drowned Chengdu? There was even a flood the year before. If Li Bing and Li Mu hadn’t held the levees, the region would’ve lost its harvest,” the King said. “Zhu Xiang even ordered executions. He’s suffering again out there.”

Crown Prince Zhu said, “If Zhu Xiang and Li Mu hadn’t gone, Li Bing would’ve had a much harder time. Judging by the letter, they’ve become friends. Anyone who can be friends with Zhu Xiang must be like him deep down.”

The King agreed. “Yes, they’re all alike. Elder Lin, Elder Lian, Li Mu, Cai Ze—all the same. Even Lin Zhi, who seems carefree, might be like Zhu Xiang underneath.”

He closed his eyes and meditated.

Crown Prince Zhu stood quietly nearby, not daring to interrupt.

After a long pause, the King said, “I approve.”

Crown Prince Zhu let out a sigh of relief—only to tense up again a moment later. “Father… do you think Zhu Xiang will personally help with the dams? It’ll take at least ten years, maybe twenty or thirty. He’s not planning to stay in Shu that long, is he?”

The King opened his eyes and said irritably, “Not a chance. I’m giving him three years—then he’d better get back here!”

Crown Prince Zhu finally relaxed completely.

Life in Shu seemed too bitter. Zhu Xiang was someone who suffered when the common folk suffered—he couldn’t sit still. But irrigation was hard work. Who knew if his body could take it?

Xianyang was better. Now that the King regretted sending him away, he probably wouldn’t test him like that again.

Only after Zhu Xiang left did the King realize how much he lightened the mood in Xianyang. He wasn’t used to life without this disrespectful junior.

Only then did he realize—he was an old man now, not just a king.

Maybe old age softened the heart.

“Zhu Xiang really can’t sit still anywhere,” the King said.

Crown Prince Zhu nodded. Exactly—he was such a worry.

Back in Shu, Zichu was terrified upon receiving an imperial edict telling him to eat and take his medicine.

In the eleventh month, the pumpkins were harvested.

Zhu Xiang, with Ying Zheng in tow, patrolled the fields with Li Mu and Li Bing.

Li Bing’s eyes nearly popped from his face at the sight of the giant pumpkins.

Li Mu, though long used to the sight, still sighed. “These… these are edible? If they are, the yield is incredible.”

Zhu Xiang remained calm. “The seeds will degrade over time; yields will decrease. But they’re still enough for famine relief.”

He squatted down and knocked on a big pumpkin. “Shall we pick one and try the taste? I’ll cook a feast for you.”

Li Mu had been waiting for that. No one had dared to cook them yet. None had even been picked.

“How do you eat them?” Ying Zheng asked, poking a pumpkin. “Just bite into it?”

Zhu Xiang was speechless. “Of course you cut it open first.” Was Zheng’er being silly?

“I know that,” Ying Zheng said. “I meant—is the whole thing edible?”

He knocked hard with his chubby hand. “So big…” If his dream-self had seen this, he’d have thought it was a celestial fruit.

Zhu Xiang replied, “Yes, but the pulp isn’t very tasty. If you’re not starving, you can discard it.”

He chose the biggest one, cleaned off the dirt, and set up a stove right in the field to cook it.

He cut it open, scooped out the pulp, chopped it into chunks, and steamed it.

“Dig in.” He handed Ying Zheng a makeshift bowl made of leaves.

Ying Zheng sniffed like a puppy, then carefully took a bite—trusting his uncle.

“Ah—hot! But so soft and sweet!” His eyes lit up. “Uncle, I love this!”

Zhu Xiang laughed. “Tasty, right?” Was it a floury pumpkin variety? Perfect as a grain substitute.

Li Bing and Li Mu immediately scrambled for their share.

Sweet! Truly sweet! A naturally sweet staple crop!