Lu Huan also understood in his heart that continuing in this awkward state was not a solution.

If he kept forcing things, sooner or later, he would only drive the person further away.

At least, for now, she was still by his side.

The most pressing matter at present was not to let his mind wander, but to find that so-called recluse who could communicate with spirits.

However, with Lu Huan’s current strength, even though he had heard of such a shushi¹Shushi: A practitioner skilled in mystical or spiritual arts; can refer to a sorcerer, exorcist, or medium.’s existence, it would be difficult to locate the person in a short time.

He could no longer bear the thought of searching slowly on his own—if he wanted to find the person sooner, he would have to borrow some power.

Among the soldiers and officers in General Zhenyuan’s army were many who had traveled far and wide, and the general’s spies extended throughout the entire State of Yan. Perhaps they could help him locate the person more quickly.

With that in mind, after sending Su Xi off that day, he once again made his way to the General’s residence.

In recent days, General Zhenyuan had taken an interest in nurturing Lu Huan. Each time he discussed matters with the Minister of War, he would call this young man to join him.

At the moment, however, the general was troubled by a matter giving him a severe headache.

The conscription, which had lasted more than two months, had finally ended, and the expedition was about to begin.

Yet in recent years, Yan’s national treasury had run dry—there were men, but the treasury could no longer bear the burden of supplying the army’s grain and fodder.

General Zhenyuan also understood His Majesty’s difficulties. With threats from within and without, if the rations had to come from the treasury, the taxes and corvée imposed this year would inevitably increase.

Yan’s taxes were already heavy, and since last winter, even a salt tax had been imposed.

If another decree was issued to add further burdens, it would only worsen the turmoil and leave the people destitute.

But if the provisions were drawn instead from the well-lined pockets of the officials, it would inevitably offend many of the powerful factions in the capital.

Whatever decision he made would tug at one thread and shake the whole body—he was truly caught between a rock and a hard place.

He rubbed at his temples and said to the Minister of War, Lu Huan, and several other strategists in the camp, “During the morning court session today, the Golden Luan Hall was in an uproar. Those under the Chancellor’s faction, afraid of losing their own interests, flatly refused the proposal for the officials to donate funds. Now that the Chancellor’s family dominates the court, His Majesty is naturally inclined toward the Crown Prince’s side. It’s not that this old man fears further disputes, but that if the matter drags on too long, the northern border will no longer be able to hold. By then, the consequences will be unimaginable!”

The strategists present all wore anxious expressions.

Lu Huan thought for a moment, then asked, “General, how long can the current military provisions last? Three months, would that be enough?”

The war in the northern borderlands was destined to be a protracted one.

There had never been a campaign there that ended within three months.

To truly subdue the covetous neighboring kingdom this time, the army would have to station there for at least half a year, perhaps even a full one.

That was why General Zhenyuan and the others were so troubled about the rations.

The Minister of War replied, “Some righteous citizens have sent grain, and together with what we already have, it should last four months without issue.”

That meant that within four months, they would have to secure the supplies for the following four months—at the very least.

This was no simple matter.

Although there were many wealthy merchants in Yan, most had dealings with the neighboring states and would not readily engage in acts of charity.

Many of these merchants even grew rich from war itself. They would rather see the flames of conflict spread across Yan.

Lu Huan silently assessed the estates he shared with the spirits and ghosts.

It was now the sixth month; by autumn, their total yield would certainly exceed two thousand jin²Jin: A traditional Chinese unit of weight, roughly equivalent to 0.5 kilograms..

Those farms could perhaps feed a few hundred commoners for a time, but for supplying the army during wartime, it was merely a drop in the ocean.

If he wanted to truly resolve the northern army’s predicament, he would have to find merchants wealthy enough to shoulder the grain supply and barter with them.

But those merchants were already rich enough to rival the nation itself.

What could he possibly offer that they would want?

That day, after the meeting at the General’s residence concluded, the others turned to leave first.

Lu Huan lingered for a moment longer. He told General Zhenyuan that he wanted to try and see if there was a way to procure grain supplies—but in exchange, he wished to ask the General for help in finding someone.

General Zhenyuan now regarded this young man with newfound respect, believing he truly possessed resourcefulness and intelligence—it was he himself who had been prejudiced before.

Even so, he still felt it was impossible for Lu Huan to accomplish such a fantastical task relying on his own strength alone.

Still, he thought, young men should have grand ambitions—it was a good thing.

His appreciation for Lu Huan grew even more. He patted the youth on the shoulder and said, “The matter you ask for, this old man will have someone attend to it. As for the difficulties in the army, just do your best.”

Though General Zhenyuan had the stubborn temper typical of a military man, he was one to stand by his word. Once he had given his promise to Lu Huan, he immediately sent people to search for the Daozhang³Daozhang: A respectful term for a Taoist priest or master, often used for reclusive or spiritually skilled figures. Lu Huan had mentioned—the one rumored to be able to summon spirits and bring souls back to life.

Only, whether the man could be found—neither he nor Lu Huan felt certain.

Su Xi noticed that her little Zai Zai had suddenly become much busier, as if burdened by a secret or driven by some pressing thought. He worked with a restless urgency, several times more diligent and disciplined than before.

He had already been spending his days running on his short legs between the government office, the Imperial Academy, and his official residence, but now he was so busy that he barely had time to drink water or eat.

Most of the time when Su Xi logged into the game, he was either at the farmstead or at the government office.

Often, when she logged out, he was still up late at night reading under the lamplight.

And when she logged in again the next day, he still hadn’t slept—the bed showed no trace of having been used.

Su Xi had no idea what his true goal was. She thought he was occupied with the grand matter of raising military provisions, and she couldn’t help but sigh—her Zai Zai really was such a good child, one who worked for the country and the people.

She felt proud of his ambition and ideals and didn’t disturb him, only feeling a bit sorry to see the dark circles under his eyes and the red veins in his gaze.

Then, one day, Su Xi realized he had been working continuously without sleep for two days straight and faint stubble had actually appeared on his chin.

Su Xi: “……”

Su Xi was horrified.

Wait a minute—wasn’t this supposed to be a cartoon style game? Did it really need to be this realistic?!

Fortunately, soon after, Zai Zai changed into his official uniform to go out, shaved his chin clean, and once again looked like the soft, round, sweet little bun she knew. Only then did Su Xi breathe a sigh of relief.

It was only then that she realized—While more than half a semester had passed for her in the real world, nearly a full year had gone by inside the game.

That night in Prince Ning’s residence when she had accompanied Zai Zai for his fifteenth birthday—it felt like yesterday.

And now, in just a few months, he would soon be sixteen…

She wondered what kind of surprise he would want for his second birthday.

Still, there was something comforting about all this.

In the days after returning from the military camp, that awkward tension between them had finally disappeared.

Su Xi couldn’t figure out why Zai Zai’s moods had been so unpredictable during those days, fluctuating between warmth and coldness. In the end, she could only explain it to herself as something like that time of the month—when anyone’s mood might sour for a few days.

She was like that. So was Zai Zai. Totally normal.

Fortunately, a few days later, Zai Zai returned to his usual self.

Su Xi, cheerful again, busied herself once more with sewing and mending for him. She changed his quilt from a spring blanket to a summer mat, and when autumn came, she replaced it with a thicker coverlet—always careful to make sure her Zai Zai wouldn’t catch a cold.

Zai Zai was happy in his heart as well. When he looked at her, his eyes were dark and clear, shining brightly.

Only sometimes, there would be a faint shadow in them—something complicated, something that seemed to yearn for more and it left Su Xi unable to read his thoughts.

───♡───

Time on Su Xi’s side didn’t flow as quickly as it did in the game.

To her, she had only raised her Zai Zai for another month.

Every day after school, the first thing she did was log in to greet him.

Then, separated by a screen, one person and one “Zai Zai”—one studied diligently, and the other worked tirelessly.

When Su Xi grew tired from studying, she would pull Zai Zai along to stroll through the marketplace.

Though he had a pile of official matters waiting for him at the government office, he always put her first.

Whenever she wanted to go out and play, he would leave everything behind without hesitation.

By the looks of it, Zai Zai wasn’t exactly a model official.

Su Xi felt that with Zai Zai keeping her company, she studied more diligently than ever.

Even before finals had arrived, she had already finished all her exercise books for the semester.

When she flipped to the last page, she was a little dumbfounded.

The only thing that left her at a loss was the main quest inside the game.

The task of unlocking Zai Zai’s background and finding the nun from Changchun Temple—she wasn’t sure if it was because the timing wasn’t right or for some other reason, but even after dragging Zai Zai there twice and scouring every inch of the temple, even flipping over each bluish stone tile, she still hadn’t found that nun who was supposed to be the NPC.

The system’s explanation was that there were still other main quests that hadn’t been completed.

Only after finishing Quests Two and Six would Quest Nine start to reveal itself.

So Su Xi could only give up for now.

As for Quest Two—Gather two thousand kilograms of grain—that one had been ongoing since last year, a long-term accumulation quest that couldn’t be rushed.

Su Xi estimated that after this year’s autumn harvest, the continuously expanding farmsteads managed by Zai Zai should finally reach the goal.

Then there was Make friends with Wan Sanqian—

She was currently trying to figure out how to meet this wealthiest man in all of Yan through other means.

Originally, according to the route planned in the game, Zai Zai was supposed to encounter Wan Sanqian through a side quest—that day when they threw embroidered balls at the marketplace.

But damn it! That side quest had been completely strangled to death by Zai Zai himself!

Which meant that up to now, Wan Sanqian still hadn’t appeared in either of their storylines.

Su Xi was utterly bewildered.

Why was Zai Zai so resistant to approaching his own future harem?

He was destined to ascend the throne someday, wasn’t his script supposed to be that of a Dragon-AoTian⁴ Long Aotian: A term for a typical overpowered male protagonist in Chinese web fiction—often destined for greatness and surrounded by admirers. protagonist?!

Yet he had single-handedly turned that grand, domineering “Heaven-favored Emperor” script into one of an ascetic, pure-hearted young monk.

There was no rushing this sort of thing, so Su Xi decided to take it easy and just accompany Zai Zai as he went back and forth among the farmsteads, the government office, and the Imperial Academy.

───♡───

That day, when Lu Huan returned from the government office, he—as usual—waited under the eaves for a long while.

Only when that familiar breeze twined around his fingertips did a trace of gentleness appear on his face, now thinner than before.

He turned to the figure beside him and said softly, “I want to discuss something with you.”

Su Xi tugged lightly at his left sleeve, signaling for him to speak freely.

Could it be… he was already thinking about his birthday gift a few months early?

Kids, Su Xi thought with a smile.

But what Zai Zai wanted to talk about was far more important.

In the past few months, Zai Zai had been expanding the operations of his farmsteads. After being appointed as a Clerk of the Second Division in the Ministry of War, he began receiving an official salary.

In addition, he had received rewards from the Emperor, and the Old Madam had also given him plenty of silver.

Money wasn’t the issue—the problem was that his farmsteads were short on labor, which was why he had been running himself ragged.

The number of farmsteads had now grown to eight.

Besides the one outside the capital, he had also set up others in Ning County, Fengzhou, and Shandu.

Su Xi had followed him to unlock all three of those locations and had even watched as Zai Zai personally went to each, selecting and hiring people to oversee them.

At every farmstead, he used the advantages of greenhouses and insulated sheds to ensure that the workers could plant in spring and harvest in autumn.

Now that late autumn had arrived, the grain yield had already far surpassed two thousand jin.

And all that grain, far exceeding what other estates or farms could produce, he had ordered the workers to distribute anonymously—to the poor and starving people scattered throughout the State of Yan.

Since last winter’s frost disaster, countless citizens had been displaced, unable to fill even one hot meal.

Many had already starved to death.

Though this grain wasn’t nearly enough to resolve the suffering of all the people, it was still enough to help some of them survive the hardest stretch.

That, too, could be counted as a virtuous deed—a piece of good karma accumulated.

And precisely because of this, rumors began to circulate among the common folk about a “kind-hearted but unnamed wealthy merchant.”

People were full of gratitude toward this mysterious benefactor who helped the poor without seeking recognition.

This talk hadn’t yet reached the Emperor’s ears, but most officials in the capital had already heard of it.

It bore a striking resemblance to last winter’s incident at Yong’an Temple—when an anonymous divine physician saved thousands of citizens.

Naturally, people began to connect the two stories.

Yet, Su Xi knew that Zai Zai’s busyness over the past months couldn’t have been just for this.

At a time when the price of grain across Yan was soaring, and every other farm’s yield of crops was dismal, the output of the farmsteads managed by him and Su Xi not only remained stable but even surpassed the highest yields of past years—naturally drawing attention.

Wan Sanqian, Zhong Ganping, and several other wealthy merchants in the capital had all tried to inquire about the secret.

Some even harbored ill intentions—sending people to secretly infiltrate the farmsteads outside the city, hoping to uncover the principle behind the insulated sheds and greenhouses.

But the blueprints existed only with Su Xi and Lu Huan.

Even if those merchants found the most skilled carpenters, they would still be unable to discern the precise mixture of powdered kerosene lamp residue, the thickness of the parchment, or the controlled quantities of timber—and one misstep would ruin the whole construction.

In other words, the greenhouse and insulated shed—these inventions far ahead of their era in Yan had brought tremendous convenience to farming.

They were, in effect, a kind of patented technology, owned only by Su Xi and her Zai Zai.

However, if they wished to expand the scale of their farmsteads, to begin large-scale production and feed more of the populace, they would need more manpower and outside assistance.

So, Zai Zai planned to bring in a partner.

Once he said this, Su Xi immediately understood—he wanted to turn the farmsteads equipped with greenhouses and insulated sheds into a chain, and to find a trustworthy collaborator who would never betray him.

The person he had in mind was Zhong Ganping.

Zhong Ganping had built his fortune from nothing.

From their previous interactions, he hadn’t seemed like a deceitful or scheming man. Moreover, since the Yong’an Temple incident, when his youngest son was saved by Zai Zai, he and his family owed the boy a debt of life.

Footnotes

• 1
  Shushi: A practitioner skilled in mystical or spiritual arts; can refer to a sorcerer, exorcist, or medium.
• 2
  Jin: A traditional Chinese unit of weight, roughly equivalent to 0.5 kilograms.
• 3
  Daozhang: A respectful term for a Taoist priest or master, often used for reclusive or spiritually skilled figures.
• 4
  Long Aotian: A term for a typical overpowered male protagonist in Chinese web fiction—often destined for greatness and surrounded by admirers.