Half a Spoiler Chapter 153

Now that the Emperor had returned to Taiqi Palace, the regular court sessions naturally resumed as before, allowing the ministers who had remained in the capital to have an audience with Her Majesty.

However, during this court session, the Sovereign, following a practice often observed by the late emperor during his reign, specially placed a screen of clouded marble in front of the imperial seat. Upon seeing this, some ministers instinctively entertained fleeting thoughts of comparison, only to immediately dismiss them – every emperor of the Great Zhou had at one time or another set up such a screen, and many of them were wise and sagacious rulers. One could not, based on this single similarity alone, assume that the current emperor was the same kind of person as the late emperor.

Not long ago, the Grand General of the South had submitted a memorial reporting an increase in grain production in the southern regions. Naturally, this matter was brought up for discussion at today’s court session. The ministers debated fervently, yet the Emperor herself remained silent throughout, merely listening to their deliberations.

Wen Yanran felt that, after enduring repeated betrayals by fate, the fact that she could still persist in clocking in for work was proof enough of her strong mental fortitude.

An emperor’s thoughts were inherently difficult to gauge, and on this particular day, with the screen obstructing any view of her expression, her intentions were utterly unfathomable.

A censor, speculating privately, assumed that since the Emperor had a penchant for consolidating power, she would naturally be displeased by the growing influence of the Grand General of the South in the southern coastal regions.

Believing himself to have grasped the Emperor’s intent, he stepped forward and submitted a memorial. “The Grand General of the South was born in the borderlands, commands a formidable army, and has subdued weak states. It is not necessarily that she harbors disloyal intentions, but how can the court afford to leave her unchecked? A long-term strategy must be devised.”

“…”

The moment his words ended, the hall fell into utter silence. The Sovereign remained quiet and motionless. After a brief pause, an inner attendant emerged from behind the screen to convey the emperor’s decree. “Let the Ministry of Personnel step forward.”

Hearing this, Song Wenshu vaguely discerned the Emperor’s intentions and, slightly startled, stepped forward ahead of the others. Bowing deeply toward the imperial seat, he said, “Your Majesty bears the weight of the state. If words are punished with condemnation, then the path of remonstrance will be sealed. Should unforeseen troubles arise in the future, how would Your Majesty come to know of them?”

The words of a senior minister carried considerable weight. The inner attendants carefully moved aside the clouded marble screen before the imperial seat, revealing the young Sovereign seated behind it, clad in black robes with crimson patterns. As was her habit, she wore neither the ceremonial crown adorned with tassels nor precious ornaments such as fire pearls. She sat casually in his place, yet this monarch of the Great Zhou possessed a gaze like a blade submerged in still water – sharp, cold, and unfathomable. A single sweeping glance from her sufficed to impose an invisible pressure, prompting the ministers in the hall to bow their heads slightly in deference.

The Emperor gave a faint smile. “There is a vacancy for the position of Commandery Deputy in Tai Province. Given your resolute and unyielding character, Sir, you should not be intimidated by the powerful local clans. You shall go there and serve as Commandery Deputy.”

The Investigating Censor held a rank of positive eighth grade, while even the lesser Commandery Deputy positions could reach assistant sixth grade. In terms of official rank alone, the censor in question had received a promotion. However, one was a position in the capital, while the other was a local post in the Western region. In this era, being assigned there was tantamount to exile.

Though the Emperor had said little, her actions had already made her stance unmistakably clear – she stood firmly behind Xiao Xichi.

Some ministers mused privately that if the Emperor placed such trust in the Grand General of the South, then the more the southern lands flourished and prospered, the more it would prove Her Majesty’s keen ability to recognize and appoint capable people. There was no need, they reasoned, to question General Xiao’s loyalty before any hint of disloyalty had even surfaced.

Now that the Emperor had spoken and reassigned the censor to another post, the matter was considered closed.

The censor who had submitted the memorial had always prided himself on his boldness. Yet by the time he returned to his place among the officials, his robes were drenched in cold sweat. Given the prestige Wen Yanran had commanded in Jianzhou, if she had chosen to have the man seized on the grounds of sowing discord between ruler and general, none of the other ministers would have been able to stop her. Moreover, unless Xiao Xichi actually turned traitor, the censor might never be vindicated in the historical records. But if Xiao Xichi remained loyal, then this moment would serve as a classic example of the young emperor’s extraordinary ability to judge character, even at such an early stage of his reign.

Yuan Yanshi, eager to lighten the mood in the hall, smiled and said, “The Great Zhou has never lacked loyal ministers. Take the Yan clan, for instance – generation after generation, they have defended the northern borders with unwavering devotion. The Grand General of the South has long resided in Qingyi. Given time, who is to say she cannot become a second Yan?”

In the plot of Monarch’s Conquest, the Great Zhou had stood for over three hundred years, and the Yan clan had migrated from the Central Plains to the north nearly three centuries ago. Generation after generation, this family had been entrusted with guarding the border, keeping a watchful eye on the frontier tribes such as the Wuliu, lest they harbor disloyal intentions.

Wen Yanran offered a faint smile.

The reason she had dealt with the matter so leniently was not out of any aspiration to model herself after a sage ruler, but rather because Song Wenshu’s words about “sealing the path of remonstrance” had struck a chord with her.

Wen Yanran felt that if she could remain steadfast in her commitment to the path of a pleasure-seeking monarch, she owed much of it to the continuous guidance of loyal ministers. If the upright and forthright officials at court refused to speak their minds, would she not lose a crucial set of reference points to navigate her way forward?

The discussion concerning the Grand General of the South ultimately concluded with the decision to dispatch an envoy to Qingyi to commend Xiao Xichi. Following this, a memorial was submitted by someone from the front camp – according to Wen Yanran’s original plan, she intended to reassign Song Nanlou and Shi Zhuhe to different posts this very year. However, due to certain matters in the north, the transition had been delayed for some time. A messenger had recently been sent to request that the reassignment be postponed until after the new year.

Wen Yanran recalled that in the comment section, Song Nanlou was described as gentle and easygoing – well, putting off work certainly fit the description of “easygoing.” Since she had long known he was not the decisive type, she granted the request.

Today’s court session ran longer than usual. Some ministers from various ministries and departments, having not seen the Emperor for many days, stepped forward to give detailed reports even on matters of little consequence. As a result, the court did not adjourn until noon.

Two days later, within the Western Yong Palace.

As the Emperor was reviewing memorials, Chi Yi entered the hall to attend to her duties. Though she did not speak immediately, Wen Yanran was so familiar with this close attendant that a single glance sufficed for her to ask, “Have you encountered something good?” At the same time, she calculated in her mind. “Has Ah-Luo arrived in the capital?”

Chi Yi inclined her body slightly and reported with a smile, “Attendant Zhang has already entered the palace and is awaiting an audience with Your Majesty.”

Wen Yanran chuckled. “Then why hasn’t he come directly?” Setting down her brush, she lifted her head and gazed toward the palace entrance.

Zhang Luo had actually returned the previous night, but he did not dare present himself before the Emperor still covered in the dust of travel. Thus, he had spent the night outside the city walls and only returned to the palace at daybreak, changing into his court attire before seeking an audience.

Chi Yi had long since stopped handling the duties of a eunuch attendant, yet today she voluntarily took on the role of relaying the Emperor’s summons, calling out toward the hall, “Her Majesty summons Attendant Zhang to the palace.”

Zhang Luo strode in quickly. When he had returned to Jianping, he had felt only joy. But the moment he crossed the threshold and laid eyes on the Emperor, whom he had not seen for so long, a rush of emotions – both sorrow and elation – overwhelmed him. Unable to contain himself, he knelt directly on the ground and bowed.

Wen Yanran bade Zhang Luo rise and studied him carefully for a moment before remarking, “You look thinner – and much darker, too.”

Though Zhang Luo’s eyes were still rimmed with red, his face had already resumed its usual cheerful expression. “The south is hot, Your Majesty. I could not help but get a bit sunburned.”

Back when he had submitted his memorial requesting to remain longer by the canal to see matters through before departing, the emperor, in his reply, had also sent someone to deliver several sets of new cotton garments. Additionally, two imperial physicians had been dispatched to the canal region. According to the Emperor’s directive, they were to tend to the illnesses of the canal laborers. Considering that two physicians might not be enough, they were also authorized to recruit skilled local doctors to assist. Once the task was completed, those local doctors would be granted the official status and treatment of Herbal Attendants.

To this day, Zhang Luo lacked for nothing in clothing, food, shelter, or transport. Yet when he received the robes bestowed by the Emperor while still on the canal, his gratitude was as profound as it had been back when he first obtained the Emperor’s old garments.

Wen Yanran ordered the memorials to be put away and said with a faint smile, “Today, I have summoned no other ministers – only the two of you will accompany me for a meal.”

The quality of the palace cuisine had steadily improved, and the Sovereign was an easygoing superior. Dining with her was naturally a pleasant affair. However, this sovereign was far too devoted to state affairs. No sooner had Zhang Luo finished his meal than he began reporting all that he had seen and heard along the canal.

“…The section from Jianzhou to Tuoqing River in Yong Province has been largely completed. I observed that the material used for the slope protection was mixed earth.”

Mixed earth was what the people of the Great Zhou called concrete.

Although the people of that time did not understand the specific principles of ship-generated waves, they were well aware that something needed to be done to protect both sides of a river channel. Otherwise, over time, the soil and gravel along the banks would inevitably be washed away by the current, causing the riverbed to collapse and become silted.

To address these issues, officials from the Water Management Bureau had two methods at their disposal. The first was to plant trees extensively to reduce soil erosion along the banks. The second was to use harder stones to line both sides of the river, serving as protective material for the slopes.

Yet none of the indigenous techniques of this era could match the durability of concrete.

Just as Chi Yi had introduced concrete technology to the forward camp, Zhang Luo had done the same along the canal. The latter had always been adept at discerning the Emperor’s intentions, and he believed that his assignment to the canal was not merely for the sake of gaining experience but also to shoulder the responsibility of disseminating the latest advancements from the capital to the local artisans.

As Wen Yanran listened to her subordinate’s report, she felt no surprise that concrete was being used along the canal – after all, if this was the wisdom of the ancients themselves, it would certainly be fully utilized by them.

In truth, the southern regions had always been more abundant in waterways than the north. During the dynasties preceding the Great Zhou, portions of the river channels had already been constructed. When designing the construction routes, officials such as the Vice Minister of Water Management Bureau made every effort to utilize existing waterways to minimize labor and resources.

Zhang Luo inclined his body in a bow. “Vice Minister Xin is exceptionally skilled in engineering. She modified the well winch commonly used for drawing water and installed it along the banks to hoist mud and stone from below. By the grace of Your Majesty’s blessing, all has proceeded smoothly with the canal. However, the next section of the waterway contains many hard rocks, and it seems we must wait until winter arrives before we can properly excavate them.”

Wen Yanran gave a slight nod, understanding that he was referring to the second phase of the project.

Some time ago, a notification had appeared on her panel, announcing the completion of [Construct the Grand Canal · Phase One], followed immediately by a new side quest—

[System:

Side quest [Construct the Grand Canal · Phase Two] has begun. Wishing you a pleasant gaming experience.]

[System:

Construction of [Construct the Grand Canal · Phase Two] has been temporarily halted.]

Wen Yanran had initially been puzzled as to why work on the canal had suddenly come to a halt. Only after hearing Zhang Luo’s explanation did she begin to understand.

Excavating a river channel required a certain methodology – first, the channel had to be dug out, and only then could water be introduced. If the soil was too soft, it would be prone to silting once water flowed through. If there were too many rocks, excavation became exceedingly difficult. The upcoming section of the canal, unfortunately, contained a great number of massive stones. The common technique of the time was to pour water into the crevices of the rocks and wait for it to freeze; as the water turned to ice, it would expand, splitting the rocks apart.

This was precisely why, before the Great Zhou, most large-scale water conservancy projects had been undertaken in the north. The climate in the south was humid and warm – winters sometimes brought snow, sometimes not. Even if one waited until winter, merely using the method of pouring water did not guarantee that the rocks would successfully fracture.

Wen Yanran was well aware that many at court opposed the construction of the canal. From the very moment the project was proposed, it had faced considerable resistance in public opinion. If the officials of the Water Management Bureau truly proved unable to break through the rocks blocking the waterway, the loyal ministers at court would have even more reason to submit remonstrances, urging her to halt this costly and labor-intensive endeavor.

Solving the problem of the rocks was not particularly difficult. The moment she heard of the issue, the method for producing gunpowder immediately came to mind – but just as quickly, she dismissed the thought.

She had never seen fireworks in the Great Zhou. As for firecrackers, they did exist, but she had come to understand that their name was derived entirely from their original material – during the New Year, the people of the Great Zhou truly did burn bamboo, simply to relish the crackling sounds it produced.

Since gunpowder did not exist, Wen Yanran could not casually introduce a new technology that would be difficult to confine within the Jingyuan.

Wen Yanran pondered for a moment, then turned to the attendants beside her and murmured a few instructions. One of them withdrew and, together with the others, carried over a bronze basin.

Inside the basin were stones heated until they were scorching hot. The attendant stepped back half a pace, lifted a bottle, and poured water over them. In an instant, white vapor billowed into the air, accompanied by the crisp, distinct sound of cracking. By the time the steam dissipated, all present could see that a fissure had opened in the stones.

Wen Yanran smiled. “When heated stones meet cold water, they split on their own. Pass this method along to Vice Minister Xin – even if the southern winter brings no frost, it will still work.”

As she spoke, she vividly recalled a key point her teacher had repeatedly emphasized in class back in the day: most substances expand with heat and contract with cold – but water was the exception. The method she had just demonstrated exploited the first half of that principle, while the techniques employed by the Ministry of Works relied on the second half. Between the two, they had neatly covered all the bases.

Within the front camp in the northern regions.

Jianping was already none too warm, but here in the front camp, the cold was even more biting, with snow falling early in the season.

As a commander whose temperament had increasingly little to do with gentleness or easygoingness, Song Nanlou had certainly not delayed his departure out of mere procrastination.

A general must not only plan for a single battle but also consider the broader strategic situation. This year, the northern lands had suffered a poor grain harvest, and the frontier tribes would inevitably grow restless as a result. Though Song Nanlou was not himself a commander stationed at the border, he had nonetheless sent letters warning the frontier officers to prepare accordingly.

The northern borderlands were the domain of the Yan clan. Long accustomed to dealing with the Wuliu tribe, they replied to Song Nanlou, reassuring him that they would employ both kindness and severity in equal measure to keep the Wuliu in check and prevent them from stirring up trouble.