Before the morning court session, in the Yangxin Hall.
Xiao Juechen yawned as palace attendants helped him into the imperial robe embroidered with nine dragons riding clouds.
Just as he stretched lazily, a black shadow silently appeared behind him and dropped to one knee.
“Speak.”
Xiao Juechen adjusted his sleeves, his voice still carrying the laziness of someone half-awake, though his eyes had already brightened.
This was an unspoken routine between ruler and his covert agents.
Ever since that girl from the Northern Border Prince’s estate kept disappearing at random, his source of joy had been cut in half.
So he had an idea—he turned his attention to another lively, vibrant “treasure land” in the capital.
The Second Prince’s residence.
It was practically a natural stage for drama.
Every single day, new and spicy performances unfolded there.
The spy assigned to monitor it had already evolved from a cold-faced assassin into a professional storyteller.
Every morning before court, he would present the freshest “daily gossip report” from the Second Prince’s mansion.
Xiao Juechen even personally provided him with writing tools and demanded detailed records—no omissions allowed.
“Your Majesty,” the spy said.
He pulled out a thin booklet from his chest, densely written.
On the cover: “Battle Records of the Second Prince’s Residence – Day 47.”
“Yesterday’s situation is as follows,” the spy began.
“Leader of the Hantian Kingdom, Old Khan, his wife the Khatan, and their son Abao successfully infiltrated the Second Prince’s residence at dusk yesterday.”
“Infiltration method—”
The spy paused, as if even he found it absurd.
“Through a dog hole in the back wall of the residence.”
“Pfft—”
Xiao Juechen spat out his tea immediately.
The attendants hurried forward with cloths.
“Cough cough… what did you say?”
He widened his eyes in disbelief.
“A dog hole?”
“Yes.”
The spy remained expressionless.
“I witnessed it myself. The Old Khan’s waist got stuck in the hole for a full quarter of an hour. In the end, it was the Khatan who pushed him in from behind with force.”
“After entering, the Old Khan immediately burst into tears and clung to Helian Arghula’s leg, shouting ‘second son!’”
Xiao Juechen’s mind instantly visualized the scene.
A once-mighty Khan of the steppes, a formidable warlord—now reduced to crawling through a dog hole…
And being shoved in from behind by his wife…
Too beautiful. He dared not imagine further.
“Helian Arghula reacted quite quickly,” the spy continued.
“Before the Old Khan could call out his real name, he rushed forward and covered his mouth, pretending to say: ‘Father, you have mistaken me. Your son is Xiao Mingyu.’”
“The surrounding women, busy fighting over ‘husband usage rights,’ did not suspect anything.”
Xiao Juechen’s mouth twitched.
The Second Prince’s residence really was becoming more chaotic by the day.
“Where are the Old Khan’s family staying now?”
“Because the residence is overcrowded, the steward originally planned to assign them servant quarters,” the spy said.
“But the Old Khan and Khatan caused a scene and insisted on staying in the same courtyard as Ulan.”
“The steward had no choice but to agree.”
“So last night, three unexpected guests moved into Ulan’s courtyard.”
He added:
“Oh, and Ulan attempted to flee with some money and valuables last night. Our people stopped him.”
“After returning dejectedly, he was forced by the Khatan to change back into men’s clothing.”
“At present, the Old Khan, Khatan, their three-year-old son Abao, and Ulan have successfully ‘reunited’.”
Xiao Juechen rubbed his temples.
The customs of the steppe… truly unconventional.
A family of four—two men, one woman, and a child.
Even he couldn’t make sense of it.
“What about the others in the residence?”
“And those two hundred Hantian women?”
The spy turned a page, revealing a detailed diagram of faction distribution.
“Your Majesty, they have split into four factions.”
“First: about fifty women chose a peaceful life. They admire flowers, drink tea, and compose poetry daily, not participating in conflicts.”
“These seem to have given up and chosen to coast through life.”
Xiao Juechen nodded.
“Smart choice.”
“Second: about one hundred women follow the original ten wives.”
“They repeatedly surround Helian Arghula, forcibly feeding him various tonic soups.”
“Yesterday, I personally saw him forced to drink three large bowls of bull-whip soup and vomit on the spot.”
“But they refused to stop until he finished.”
“In the end, Arghula cried and begged them to spare him, saying he truly couldn’t handle it anymore—if they kept nourishing him, he would explode.”
Xiao Juechen’s lips twitched.
“Serves him right.”
“He brought this upon himself.”
“Third: about forty women, seeing Ulan’s beauty surpass all others, switched allegiance to the Old Khan’s side.”
“They often linger outside Ulan’s courtyard, trying to get closer.”
“To protect him, the Old Khan and Khatan have set up three layers of guard posts.”
“They take turns guarding the courtyard.”
“Last night, one bold woman climbed over the wall and was whipped out by the Khatan on the spot.”
Xiao Juechen stared in shock.
“This place is more chaotic than a battlefield.”
“And fourth…”
The spy’s tone turned strange.
“The remaining women have formed… relationships with some reasonably good-looking guards and servants.”
“I saw one guard leaving a woman’s room last night, walking unsteadily with a foolish smile.”
Xiao Juechen’s temple throbbed violently.
A dignified prince’s residence had turned into a den of chaos and indulgence.
Worst of all—
All of these two hundred-plus people were eating and living at the expense of the Great Xia treasury.
His gaze fell upon the potato fields he had personally cultivated outside the hall.
A gleam flashed in his eyes.
An idea formed.
“Issue my decree.”
The spy immediately knelt.
“Go to the Northern Border Prince’s shop, ‘Heavenly Grain Seeds,’ and purchase one hundred shi each of potato and sweet potato seeds in my name.”
“Deliver them immediately to the Second Prince’s residence.”
The spy froze.
Is His Majesty… sending them food?
“Within the Second Prince’s residence, designate an open area.”
Xiao Juechen smiled faintly.
“Call it the Royal Experimental Farm.”
“Tell Helian Arghula this: from today onward, everyone in the residence—men, women, young, old, servants or masters—”
“Must go to the fields and cultivate land. Plant potatoes.”
The spy’s eyes widened.
“All of them… farming?”
“From now on, their food will be earned through labor.”
Xiao Juechen sneered.
“Those who do not work, do not eat.”
“I do not support idlers.”
He paused.
“Especially Helian Arghula. He will personally lead them.”
“As the master of the residence, he must take responsibility.”
“Daily labor is mandatory. No slacking.”
“If he disobeys, double the dosage of those tonic soups.”
The spy shuddered.
A ruthless move indeed.
“Go.”
“Yes!”
The spy vanished instantly.
After settling this “domestic matter,” Xiao Juechen felt refreshed.
Helian Arghula had gone from a “walking extractor” to the “Royal Farm Overseer.”
A fitting promotion.
Labor is the most honorable thing.
And it would conveniently reform these foreign “refugees.”
Teach them a simple truth—
There is no such thing as a free meal.
If you want to eat, you work.
With long strides, he headed toward the Imperial Court.
Today’s court gossip—he could hardly wait.
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