Chapter 51: First Snow (Part Two)

Mid-December arrived. After the concerted efforts of thousands, the Princess’s residence was finally completed. The sky was dusted with a faint snow, the biting wind howling through the air, and then, as if in reverence, the snowfall ceased.

That morning, Xiao Chun helped Wu Yueling into her winter clothes and wrapped a scarf around her neck. They had measured the princess’s height earlier specifically to tailor her garments, and at Wu Yueling’s request, they made several scarves as well. Although Xiao Chun did not quite understand why one needed to bind something around the neck, the warmth it provided was undeniable.

She had assumed at first that it was simply a winter kerchief, meant to hang over the shoulders and drape along the arms, but instead, it circled the neck—a novel concept indeed.

Dressed and ready, Wu Yueling stepped out of the Hall of Heavenly Blessings, mounted her horse, and toured the back quarters of the estate. With Xu Zhucheng as her guide, she spent the morning inspecting every corner of the grounds. Overall, it met with her expectations: no ostentatious gardens had been constructed, and apart from leaving the rear mountain untouched, the rest had been shaped to her design.

There was, for example, a two-story school building and a sports field. She was curious, though, about the bamboo grove beside the field—who had planted it? Upon inquiry, she learned it was Yu Chao’en. Apparently, her previous outing to cut bamboo had left the young eunuch with quite the impression of her fondness for it. Fortunately, the bamboo posed no problem. The sports field included courts for badminton, basketball, and soccer.

She had not built a polo field, which puzzled Xu Zhucheng. Wu Yueling explained that the spaciousness of the sports ground sufficed for such equestrian games, rendering a separate field—and the extra materials—unnecessary.

The classroom was expansive, designed to accommodate over three hundred students in this first cohort. It resembled a chapel in size, with rows of wooden desks and chairs, though not all were ready yet—the carpenters’ workshop must be bustling to meet demand.

Her inspection continued around the rear mountain, through the vegetable garden, past the fishpond, and into the staff quarters and her own chambers. The morning slipped by, and in total, she found herself well satisfied.

She hosted Xu Zhucheng for a luncheon, rewarding him with a table of stir-fried dishes and two gold ingots as thanks. The other conscripted laborers and craftsmen were each given some copper coins.

Originally, these laborers were part of the princess’s enfeoffed households, expected to serve the estate for several years, making their conscription a source of free labor. Yet after Yu Chao’en’s explanation, Wu Yueling decided to grant them some money so they could celebrate the New Year properly. The princess’s decision was final, and Yu Chao’en could not object.

Those willing to remain in service at the princess’s estate were welcome to do so, as she was in need of hands and recruiting a militia—her own private troops.

A grand recruitment was announced. At Hua Chuer’s spirited call, more than five hundred signed up for the militia, all from the princess’s enfeoffed households. Unable to pay their taxes in money or goods, they could only serve as guards or menial workers for a few years. Those with means in their families simply paid their dues in grain, cloth, or cash.

After bidding Xu Zhucheng farewell, Wu Yueling saw her residence completed before the first heavy snow of winter.

That afternoon, in the garden, Wu Yueling encountered the child Xiao Chun had taken in. His mother had been laid to rest on a wild hill outside Qujiang Pool, a tombstone erected so her spirit would have a place to return when the Qingming Festival came.

“Princess,” Xiao Chun was playing with the boy when she saw Wu Yueling approach, and immediately bowed.

“Your name is Liu Shi?” Wu Yueling crouched and gently patted the child’s head.

“Yes, Princess Sister. Will my mother come back?” Liu Shi asked innocently, his clear eyes seeking reassurance.

Wu Yueling stroked his hair, then stood without answering. Sometimes, silence is the kindest answer; time would not only give him the answer, but also soothe his pain.

“In a few days, bring him to the classroom as well. I will teach him myself. Let him become a spark of warmth in this cold world,” Wu Yueling said as she left the garden. Some things, she had grown used to; it was not only people who needed to change, but the world itself.

In the Imperial Secretariat, Li Linfu took advantage of Li Shizhi’s drunken absence at home to approach a few junior clerks.

“Vice Chancellor Li, is there something you wish to instruct us on?” asked Zhou Tong, who was seated by the door sorting ledgers, rising respectfully when he saw the Vice Chancellor enter their small office.

Li Linfu drew the clerk aside, and under the shadow of a pillar, asked in a low voice, “How much has the construction of the Princess’s Residence cost the state treasury?”

“Why do you ask, sir?” Zhou Tong replied, puzzled.

Li Linfu frowned slightly, drew a gold ingot from his sleeve, and slipped it into Zhou Tong’s hands, signaling with his eyes that he should answer and not ask further questions.

“Well, according to Carpenter Xu’s original plans, it would have cost much more. But halfway through, they switched to the princess’s own designs, cutting back on gardens, pavilions, and towers, saving the treasury a great deal. The princess is truly a master of planning, worthy of her title as the Protector Princess—she’s eased the treasury’s burden. With so many destitute children outside the city and snow approaching, there were concerns about not having enough funds for relief porridge, but now we just might—” Zhou Tong beamed with admiration, praising the princess at length.

“Enough, enough,” Li Linfu’s frown deepened as he listened, and he cut Zhou Tong off with a sharp click of his tongue.

“Eh?” Zhou Tong faltered, swallowing nervously. Seeing the Vice Chancellor’s displeasure, he wondered if he had said something wrong—offending a man like this could ruin his career.

“Heh, Zhou Tong, let me tell you—write up the expenses for the Princess’s Residence, but exaggerate them. Make it seem like so much was spent that the treasury can’t afford to relieve the disaster victims outside Chang’an. Understand?”

“This...This is difficult,” Zhou Tong stammered, quickly grasping the implication—he was being asked to falsify records and frame the princess. “If caught, I could be dismissed or even flogged, or worse, exiled. Vice Chancellor, I can’t do this—”

This time, Li Linfu produced an orange-yellow jade pendant, which he slipped into Zhou Tong’s hand, draping an arm around his shoulders with a forced smile. “Don’t worry. With me behind you, nothing will happen. Now, take me to the treasury!”

Conflicted, Zhou Tong clutched the jade, gold hidden in his robe, and followed Li Linfu to the treasury. As he watched the Vice Chancellor pace through the storeroom, he steeled himself—his future depended on this gamble.

“Vice Chancellor, I have a small request. If you agree, I will see this through for you!” Zhou Tong waited until they were alone, knelt down, gripping the jade tightly.

Li Linfu, hands clasped behind his back, saw through Zhou Tong’s anxiety, and assured him, “Very well, speak.”

“I hope you’ll recommend me for advancement. I’ve served as a lowly treasury clerk for over ten years, still wearing plain robes. I recently visited the temple, drew a fortune stick that promised I’d meet a benefactor—I believe you are that person, Vice Chancellor!”

“Yes, I am your benefactor. You want a promotion? That’s easily done. Consider it promised.”

“Thank you, Vice Chancellor!” Zhou Tong bowed repeatedly.

Li Linfu then instructed him to move some of the treasury’s supplies into the old storerooms, so as to create an impression of emptiness—if the falsehood looked real enough, it became reality.

A few days later, Censor-in-Chief Yan Zhenqing, Left Chancellor Li Shizhi, and Right Chancellor Li Linfu walked together in a line.

“Lately, I’ve been keeping an eye on the refugees outside the city. Without official documents, they can’t enter and have to huddle outside the gates. The weather’s growing colder, even with the snow falling—it’s a troubling situation,” Li Linfu sighed.

Yan Zhenqing echoed his lament. He had been concerned for some time about the growing number of destitute refugees coming to Chang’an, many unable to afford the official registration that would grant them identity papers. “Tomorrow, I’ll bring men to the city gates and issue temporary free passes, so they can enter and shelter from the winter.”

“What? How did I not know about this?” Li Shizhi, ever forthright, brushed his sleeve in confusion—he had paid no attention to the situation outside the city.

Yan Zhenqing, incensed, turned on Li Shizhi, berating him for neglecting his duties as Left Chancellor and not caring for the people’s welfare. Li Linfu, inwardly amused, played the mediator—holding back the irate censor from hurling his shoe at Li Shizhi, while urging the Left Chancellor to leave quickly.

Li Shizhi, rubbing his wine-reddened nose, felt slighted—imagine, the head of all officials being chased off by the Censor-in-Chief wielding a shoe! Yet he knew he was at fault and resolved to apologize once Yan Zhenqing’s anger cooled, and to join him at the city gates to see for himself the plight of the refugees.