Although Song Wenshu was not an official of the Ministry of Works, he knew that digging a canal was a massive undertaking. “If a new canal is to be built, I’m afraid a great deal of civilian labor would have to be conscripted…”
As he said this, realization dawned on him. The eastern region was currently dismantling the fortified manors, where there were many die-hard elements. If the court did not intend to execute them all, it would have to find some way to deal with them. In that case, assigning them to corvée labor would be the most cost-effective solution.
As for how this labor should be organized, the Emperor had already provided an effective plan: within each large clan, those too old, too young, or physically unfit for manual work would be settled somewhere appropriate, while the remaining able-bodied adults – aside from those who had to stay behind to farm – would be incorporated into canal-construction teams. This applied especially to young men from great families; besides themselves, they were usually accompanied by loyal retainers and private troops, giving them a built-in degree of organization.
Under other circumstances, a labor force made up of groups that came with their own companions would be prone to causing trouble. But because the court chose to treat the elderly and children of their clans generously, they instead did not dare to act rashly.
Song Wenshu confirmed, “So these laborers will still be arranged according to the precedent set in the southern regions?”
Wen Yanran nodded and added with a smile, “The Liubo Canal is nearly completed now. We can simply transfer the officials working there to take charge of the new canal.”
Song and Yuan both suddenly understood – when the Sovereign ordered the construction of the Liubo Canal, it had in fact been preparation for digging this grand canal.
At this realization, the two veteran ministers could not help exchanging a glance, each inwardly shaken. If the Emperor had already anticipated, while building the Liubo Canal, that a vast labor force would later need to be settled and managed, then such foresight was extraordinarily deep. Yet judging from how the rebellions in the western and eastern regions had been suppressed, the speculation was far from impossible.
Reflecting on past events, the Emperor’s grand design had been linked step by step in a way that was almost unbelievable. Yuan Yanshi had once analyzed matters with his household advisers and concluded that the Emperor must have begun laying plans for the entire realm as soon as affairs in the south were concluded. When everyone assumed she would have to devote all her strength to crushing the Western rebellion, she instead chose to heavily employ the Cui clan to stabilize the south, then dispatched Wen Xun’s forces north for training while preparing a later stratagem of substitution and misdirection. After pacifying the Western Tribes, she foresaw the eastern region’s intentions in advance, sent Shi Zhuhe with a small force to trick Lujia City into surrender, won over the Chu clan, broke through the Right Camp using a counter-intelligence ploy, and at the same time had Song Nanlou circle around to the rear and silently encircle Hengping… Not a single step in the entire arrangement had been overlooked. Even the rebel armies themselves had not understood what was happening, and as for ministers like them – who were in court daily and had access to confidential reports – they only grasped the full picture gradually after everything was already over.
Remembering this, Yuan Yanshi broke into a cold sweat. He had once even entertained the delusion of trying to restrain the Emperor.
Wen Yanran paid no attention to the ministers’ inner thoughts. Her gaze fell upon the map. “I intend to begin with the section from Jianzhou to the Tuoqing River in Yong Province.”
Song Wenshu pulled himself out of his reflections, steadied his mind, and looked toward the map as well.
Yong Province was not far from Jianzhou, and there were already natural waterways between them. Judging from the map alone, it did not appear to be an especially large undertaking.
Since the Emperor did not plan to start construction at multiple points but instead intended to build one section first to test the situation, Song Wenshu had nothing to object to. He merely bowed slightly and said, “I do not understand hydraulic engineering. I hope Your Majesty will convene the officials so that the matter may be discussed collectively.”
From the moment a plan first shows signs of forming to the point where it is actually implemented, there is inevitably a process of information transmission. The Sovereign must first let slip a hint of her intentions so that the senior ministers understand her will. The two she chose as conduits were Yuan and Song; afterward, they would continue passing the news outward, ensuring that the other officials were also kept informed.
Wen Yanran was not worried that she would be unable to command the ministers’ obedience. Her decisiveness and autocratic style were backed by ample data –
[Prestige (Central Region): 9520 (profession bonus)
Prestige (Southern Region): 6520 (profession bonus)
Prestige (Western Neutral Forces): 4020 (profession bonus)
Prestige (Western Hostile Forces): 6030 (profession bonus)
Prestige (Eastern Neutral Forces): 4020 (profession bonus)
Prestige (Eastern Hostile Forces): 5030 (profession bonus)]
Among all neutral forces, the prestige bonus granted by Wen Yanran’s class was consistently 20. Among hostile forces, however, it had once reached as high as 40, only gradually dropping to 30 some time after the war ended.
Judging from the data alone, Wen Yanran felt that those who harbored negative feelings toward her might actually be more obedient than those who viewed her positively. This, perhaps, was the peculiar delight of being a tyrant…
After finishing discussions of state affairs, Wen Yanran did as she had instructed the palace attendants upon returning – she kept the two ministers in Western Yong Palace for dinner.
As the Imperial Household Department grew ever more attuned to the Emperor’s daily habits, the palace kitchen’s stir-fried dishes had become increasingly refined.
Among the dishes presented today was one specially requested by the Emperor: freshly picked shepherd’s purse. The cooks first washed the greens, minced garlic, and heated it in oil until fragrant, then quickly stir-fried the most tender portions in a cauldron. Wen Yanran had only later learned that garlic did in fact exist in this era – it simply had not been widely used because stir-frying was uncommon. Now that the Imperial Household knew the Sovereign was fond of various spices, they had set aside three hundred acres of land specifically to cultivate garlic, pepper, chili pepper, rosemary, and other plants suitable for cooking.
Though stir-fried seasonal vegetables were simple, for Wen Yanran the dish carried a flavor reminiscent of days long past. At first she hesitated, unsure whether she should allow the Imperial Household to introduce new dishes, but she quickly put her doubts aside – not only because, as a foolish tyrant, she ought to indulge her preferences to the fullest, but also because, aside from gourmet-themed stories, she had never seen any work where culinary skill determined a character’s fate.
If other players of Monarch’s Conquest knew what Wen Yanran was thinking, they would certainly criticize her for inadequate early-game preparation and for failing to study the strategy forums’ essential guides. Otherwise, she would have known that improving food standards raises a region’s [Culture] stat. Of course, her complete neglect of this attribute also had much to do with the system’s overly comprehensive filtering functions.
Wen Yanran encouraged the Imperial Household to expand their cultivation efforts and also dispatched them to search for spices in the wild – ideally mint. Before transmigrating, she had heard that peppermint oil could relieve headaches and eye strain, making it especially suitable for people like them who had to read and write for long hours.
The Director of the Imperial Household did not disappoint the Sovereign. They truly did find mint – though in this era the plant was called bakuo. In earlier years, during the reign of Emperor Li, many rare flowers and exotic plants had been transplanted into Gui Palace, among them bakuo.
After the Emperor finished her meal, the two ministers set down their chopsticks as well. Palace attendants then came forward in sequence, presenting warm water, cotton towels, tea, and finally chickentongue incense to hold in the mouth to dispel food odors.
It was already late. Wen Yanran did not keep them any longer and had attendants escort the two elder ministers home. Just as they were about to depart, however, she called them back and instructed Cai Qu to fetch two outer robes lined with cotton padding.
Although it was now spring, the nights were still cold. Recently several ministers had taken sick with chills and fever, and Lu Yuanguang had nearly fallen ill as well. Remembering how she had previously worked herself into exhaustion and sickness, Wen Yanran showed unusual foresight this time – she ordered Lu Yuanguang to remain at home to recuperate and had the court physicians prepare decoctions of banlangen for her to take.
The two outer robes brought in by Cai Qu were clearly newly made. The outer fabric was silk satin – not particularly expensive in itself – but the dye had been made with red resin tribute from the southern regions, which made the garments especially rare. At the age of Yuan and Song, however, they could accept whatever valuable items the Emperor bestowed without unease. They did not refuse, put on the robes at once, and then bowed respectfully before taking their leave.
Wen Yanran returned to her sleeping chambers and at the same time instructed those in attendance. “Spring is prone to seasonal epidemics. Tell the imperial physicians to remain vigilant. Didn’t they say they had made progress with new prescriptions? Send people into the city wards to set up relief points for distributing porridge and medicine.”
In Monarch’s Conquest, ministers could randomly acquire an illness debuff, and even the Emperor’s closest confidants were not exempt. This made Wen Yanran somewhat wary. Although her goal was to play the role of a tyrant, even a tyrant needed underlings to carry out wrongdoing. If nothing else, to achieve her objective sooner, she had to ensure that her ministers remained physically healthy and capable of working efficiently.
Within Western Yong Palace, ranked palace attendants not only served the Sovereign in daily matters but also bore responsibilities similar to personal secretaries. As Cai Qu helped the Emperor change into her nightclothes, he carefully committed her instructions to memory.
“I have heard that the Western Tribes are skilled in the use of herbal medicines. Have them present some medical prescriptions as tribute this year.”
Not only did Cai Qu have to remember this – his subordinates memorized it as well. After the Emperor retired for the night, someone would carry the message to the Imperial Household Department. Hou Suo himself was known for his prudence; after arranging the Emperor’s orders, he also added large quantities of medicinal herbs – honeysuckle, scutellaria, forsythia, banlangen, and the like – to the supplies prepared for the upcoming spring hunt, as a precaution against any epidemic breaking out among the Imperial Guards.
Wen Yanran never imagined that her casual remark before going to sleep would nip in the bud a looming notification: [An epidemic begins spreading in Jianping – Regional Stability -2].
Ten days later, tens of thousands of Imperial Guards escorted the Sovereign to the Northern Park. After another night’s journey, the imperial carriage finally arrived at Hengzhu Palace.
This was Wen Yanran’s second spring hunt since ascending the throne, and the first one that did not require dealing with a rebellion. Rarely for her, she did not slack off; instead, she obediently rode on horseback with bow and arrows in hand, wandering about in search of game.
The Imperial Household had long made preparations. In order to ensure that the Emperor would make a successful kill, they had deliberately driven a large number of wild rabbits onto the stretch of grassland before her.
The field had been carefully cleared, offering an unobstructed view. Dozens of rabbits lay plainly within Wen Yanran’s sight – half of them moving, half nibbling grass – practically stationary targets. With imposing grandeur, she spurred her horse forward and drew her bow. With a sharp whoosh, everyone saw the arrow leave the string, flashing coldly through the air… then neatly avoid every single target, continue gliding forward for a short distance, and finally drop limply to the ground.
In a heavy, unspoken silence, a bold scholar stepped forward, picked up a rabbit that could no longer run, examined it, and then let out a long sigh. First, he bowed deeply toward Wen Yanran and praised, “Your Majesty is benevolent.” Then, holding the rabbit by its ears, he showed it to the others around him. “This rabbit’s belly is swollen – it is clearly with young. The Sovereign, in her compassion for all living beings, could not bear to harm it.”
No sooner had the scholar finished speaking than many voices joined in agreement. Those known for their literary talent were particularly animated, as if the theme for this year’s spring hunt poems and essays had already been revealed in advance.
Wen Yanran raised an eyebrow slightly, watching the Director of the Imperial Household with keen interest – Hou Suo was indeed a seasoned, cunning minister who had survived from the previous emperor’s reign. To ensure that the Emperor’s hunt went smoothly, he had even prepared a backup plan.
Chi Yi heard her let out a chuckle and murmured to herself, “Ah-Yi, what excuse will Minister Hou come up with if I return empty-handed again next year?”
Before Chi Yi could answer, the Emperor herself, in deadpan seriousness, added, “But the Northern Park is a royal garden; perhaps even the rabbits here can learn loyalty and serve the state, sparing Minister Hou further trouble.”
After the first day of the spring hunt, Wen Yanran had reviewed the memorials sent from the city and was preparing to rest. Yet, barely had she lain down when a summons came from outside.
Cai Qu spoke softly, “Your Majesty has already retired for the night.”
Voices outside were faint, but because Wen Yanran had recently moved to a new residence, she was not yet asleep. The main hall of Hengzhu Palace was also smaller than Western Yong Palace, so she noticed that something was going on outside. She lifted a corner of the canopy and said, “Is that you, Ah-Yi? Send her in.”
Chi Yi hurried inside, bowed, and then reported, “News has arrived from the southern region. It says that General Wen has suddenly fallen ill, and General Xiao is also somewhat unwell. However, according to the letter, five days ago General Xiao had shown no obvious symptoms.”
