Chapter 54: First Snow (Part Five) The water was cut off, the power was out, and I had to rely on my phone to write.

Turning the design drawings, she analyzed the structure of landmines and cannons several times over. Only when she was convinced there were no errors did she finally set down her bamboo pen.

Through the window, she gazed at the world outside, a vast expanse of white. Everything was silent. She stood, pushed open the window, and let the icy air rush in, filling her view with the pure brilliance of snow. In her heart, she couldn’t help but marvel at how white it was.

Such snow could never be seen in cities crowded with towering buildings. When she first arrived here, she hadn’t found the snow particularly beautiful—only cold. Now, it seemed as if the snow had cleansed this filthy world.

Ignoring Xiaochun and Wan’er’s protests, she took off her cloth shoes and replaced them with military leather boots from the warehouse. Before putting them on, she glanced at their durability: ninety-eight percent.

Stepping into the courtyard, she scooped up a handful of snow, bit into its whiteness, tasted its chill, chewed it, letting a stream of coldness slide down her throat. She endured the creeping cold until she couldn’t any longer, her body shivering, shoulders hunched, head tucked in, exhaling white breath.

“Princess, please take care of your health,” said Xiaochun, her cloth shoes sinking into the snow, leaving rows of footprints. She hurried to the princess’s side, unwrapped her scarf, and clasped Wu Yue-Ling’s hands—red from the cold—pressing them beneath her own fair neck, braving the icy touch.

Wu Yue-Ling’s hands brushed the softness of Xiaochun’s chest, instinctively recoiling, blushing despite herself.

Wan’er ran up as well, tugging at her arm, pleading with her not to linger in the snow, for it was bad for her health.

“Princess, do you dislike Xiaochun?” Xiaochun’s question hung in the air. Rather than reply, Wu Yue-Ling helped straighten the clothes at Xiaochun’s chest, wrapped the scarf around her, rubbed Wan’er’s head, and walked a few steps forward.

Xiaochun seemed to sense the princess’s shift in mood and stood still. Her shoes were already soaked through with melted snow. She understood, and she didn’t. Though there were no tears, no sobs, she could feel that the princess was weeping.

Wu Yue-Ling scooped up a handful of snow, kneaded it several times, and shaped it into a ball. The small snowball rolled on the ground, growing larger until it became a massive one.

She finished building a snowman, traced several words upon it with her finger, and returned to the house.

Wan’er and Xiaochun had no idea why the princess did this. Why build a mound of snow? Wan’er crouched and read the words on the snowman.

“Wan’er, what does it say?”

“Ah-Ya, Ah-Qi.”

When Wan’er and Xiaochun returned to the room, their shoes and skirts soaked, Wu Yue-Ling instructed them to soak their feet in hot water and change into clean clothes.

At noon, Xiaochun prepared a pot of honeyed wheat porridge. Wu Yue-Ling was surprised to learn it was made from wheat.

Wu Yue-Ling mused that wheat was used for brewing beer. She considered getting a distiller to try making high-grade distilled spirits.

She summoned Yu Chao-En and tasked him to search both east and west markets for craftsmen skilled in brewing, and to buy a large quantity of hops from the pharmacy. The snow had stopped, and it wasn’t deep—travel was unimpeded. She decided to designate an empty workshop next to the sugar refinery as the new distillery.

She spent the entire afternoon sketching designs. Though she was not particularly knowledgeable about distillers, she thought that a drawing for the blacksmith would suffice. The apparatus consisted of two parts. The pipes were to be made by rolling iron sheets—though she worried about rust, perhaps gilding them would help?

It looked troublesome to manufacture, but she resolved to leave it at that for now.

She also considered building several kilns for firing bricks and porcelain. Clearly, revenue was essential; she understood that one could not survive by simply sitting atop resources. The expenses of the princess’s residence were enormous!

The opening of a tavern was inevitable. Besides restaurants, chili peppers needed to circulate in the market as well. Unfortunately, regulations restricting trading to specific times and places were a hindrance to commercial development; all business activities were confined behind the walls of the wards.

Most importantly, with the advent of spring, she would begin training the militia. Drawing from her experience in games, she knew that single and double bars increased arm and waist strength, running improved agility, and push-ups and sit-ups were also useful. The thought of personally training them made her head ache. She would first train a dozen captains, and then have them lead the five hundred recruits.

Sitting at her desk, Wu Yue-Ling pondered the management rules for the militia. Should she draft them according to the guild regulations from her games?

She bit the end of her bamboo pen. The first rule: no fighting or brawling; as a collective, unity was paramount.

The snow stretched unbroken, reaching all the way to Jingzhou City.

But unlike Chang’an, the sun appeared here, perhaps because it was further south.

The post-snow sun was not warm. The snow on the ground melted, evaporating and absorbing heat, making it even colder than during snowfall.

The Iron Lady practiced boxing with Ah-Xue in the courtyard, each punch brimming with force.

Ah-Xue had grown taller, imitating her master’s moves, punch by punch. Though her movements were immature and lacked power, she was still young and had plenty of room to grow.

As for Chen Yan-Fei, she still called the little girl ‘senior,’ for in the martial tradition, entry was determined by order, not age.

Chen Yan-Fei was eager to learn martial arts, but unfortunately, she was too old and lacked the aptitude. After so long, she was still at the stage of learning how to channel her energy. If she couldn’t master it, her punches would be like any ordinary person’s, incapable of breaking stone walls or competing with others.

She had missed her chance to learn martial arts, but her son Lu Yi was promising.

Lu Yi was accepted as a disciple by the chief escort. Apart from Chen Yan-Fei teaching him to read and write, he practiced boxing every morning and was required to hold horse stance for two hours daily.

He knew his father had been killed by bandits, and his mother dishonored by them. Whenever he thought of it, his chest tightened with rage, longing to drink the blood of his enemies.

His mother had told him, “With this sullied body, I will never marry again. When I die, I will seek forgiveness from your father in the underworld.”

She also hoped he would remember Wu Yue-Ling, their great benefactor, who single-handedly destroyed the bandit stronghold, joining several escorts to slaughter the bandits.

His mother had been rescued by her, yet they were not taken in by Wu Yue-Ling. The debt of gratitude was impossible to repay.

Lu Yi took his mother’s teachings to heart. He rose early each day to practice martial arts and study diligently, his admiration for Wu Yue-Ling deepening. Her strength, her cunning and strategy—single-handedly, she seized the opportunity, obliterated a bandit fortress of two thousand with fire.

In his mother’s telling, Wu Yue-Ling had become a great hero in the young boy’s mind. One day, he vowed to go to Chang’an, and if he could find this hero, he would serve her loyally, repaying her even if it meant becoming a beast of burden.

Lu Yi held his horse stance. When exhaustion threatened, he clenched his teeth, recalling how his father had died, and how the great hero had fought against overwhelming odds. Hatred and reverence mingled in his heart, fueling his perseverance—such was the effort and will of youth.

The first snow in Jingzhou was light. Gu Ren-Yi accompanied Lu Zi-Ji in the solitary village, encouraging each other. They ate together, slept together, read together, and practiced martial arts together.

Since the last time Lu Zi-Ji had carried him to pursue vengeance, joining the escorts to storm the remnants of the bandit lair, Gu Ren-Yi felt his brother had changed.

A rift had grown between them. Wealth is easy to gain, but true friendship is rare. After discussing it with his father, Gu Ren-Yi decided to suspend a rope from the beam and stab his thigh with an awl as motivation, preferring to endure hardship in the lonely village and inspire Lu Zi-Ji to study, rather than become a pampered, ambitionless boy.

After finishing his boxing practice, Gu Ren-Yi looked at Lu Zi-Ji. Lu Zi-Ji gazed toward the wild slope outside the village, where fresh graves lay under snow, then picked up a volume of military strategy, renewing his resolve to strive forward.

(End of chapter)