ITIEQ C65

Chapter 65 – The Steam Engine

Following his words, Xiao Yuxi gazed at the slightly lifted kettle lid, and at once her eyes lingered.

Shen Qinghe noted her fascination. The next moment, Xiao Yuxi leaned forward, her crimson robe of rouge‑red silk spilling half across the desk, belt untied, hair tumbling free.

She pressed him: “Then tell me, what is it?”

“Steam. The pioneers have named it steam.”

Shen Qinghe, in the manner of a good teacher soothing a hasty pupil, explained patiently:

“The principle is to transform heat energy into mechanical energy. When water is heated, its molecules gain energy, moving faster, increasing their distance from one another. Finally, liquid water becomes vapor. In a closed container, pressure builds up stronger as temperature rises — thus the lid can be lifted. If its bones are forged in steel, if fire boils ceaselessly—”

Nonsense, half incomprehensible. Xiao Yuxi could not follow, yet the terms sounded abstruse and profound. Her mind turned it into the simplest question she cared for: “All that, just a little air from boiling water. How could such a thing make mechanical birds fly a thousand li?”

“That—” Shen Qinghe’s ‘good tutor’ face twisted into a sly smirk. “That enters the paid section of the course. To learn more, please subscribe to Qingbei Academy’s latest report.”

“??”

“Knowledge requires payment, dear Patron, no freeloading.”

The veins stood out on Xiao Yuxi’s clasped hands. “Speak! How much silver?!”

“How could we discuss money, when you are the grand Lady of Pingyun Commandery, head of the Danyang Wei clan?”

Shen Qinghe fluttered his hands extravagantly at the thought, drawing even Emperor Xiao Yuanzheng’s sidelong glance.

Satisfied at last, Xiao Yuxi sat back, grand and imperious, as if signaling for his lecture to continue.

“What we must discuss, is dreams.”

Shen Qinghe spread his arms wide, eyes uplifted.

“Dreams?”

“Yes. If one day my ideals are drenched in storm, will you lend me shelter? If one day I stumble powerless, will you accompany me with noon’s warmth? If one day I ask a question — will you recall a mother startled from her dream? If I speak of a home unknown, will you guide me with kindness? If I speak of a nation’s future — will you let it sleep unafraid?” *¹

“Uh… wh—what?”

Clearing his throat, Shen Qinghe at last pulled out what he had hidden long before. Whshh — a folded brochure, pages dropping to the floor and dangling mid‑air with dubious symbolism.

“We sincerely invite you to participate in our Qingbei Academy New Campus Construction Project, to help dreams take flight.”

The trick dazzled her eyes.

“Wait.” She cut through his soaring rhetoric. “I just wanted to know how ‘steam’ could make a bird fly. What has that to do with dreams?”

“Perspective! One must open perspective!” Shen pinched finger and thumb together, then swept them apart to a grand scope. “Only birds? That’s hardly enough!”

“Not… enough?”

“Yes. Danyang Wei presides over riverside commerce: upstream are Cangzhou and Zhuozhou, downstream the fertile Changzhou plains. Shipping alone fattens coffers already. But common barges rely on muscle and wind — a round voyage takes a month, storms take lives and cargo both. If constant power could drive shipping vessels, then would this not be…” He left the words so she could imagine. “And note — river transport is not yours alone. Neighboring Yunzhong shares half your profit. Would Commandery Princess not wish to reign alone?”

He spoke until he choked in cough. The emperor himself stretched a hand to ease his breath. Then Shen Qinghe murmured:

“Besides, earth’s realms to conquer extend not only by river, but by land — and even by sky.”

The black‑haired youth, barely upright, shimmered with fever and fire. The emperor’s lips curved faint into smile.

For a moment Xiao Yuxi’s heart stirred. But soon she recovered. “Your words describe marvels unseen by man. Why should I believe you?”

Shen Qinghe had prepared. “Paper?”

She pulled a sheet she had ruined with doodles, flipping it to a blank space.

Ink ready. Shen Qinghe summoned forth his inner storehouse of diagrams. Rough sketched: a crude outline of an unknown iron beast. Simplified, vague, but unmistakable in shape.

Bare steel skeleton scrawled in black. Eyes closed, he could already hear its thundering breath shuddering heaven and earth.

“This, is a Steam Engine. You are right. Never before seen. Without precedent.”

Xiao Yuxi studied it. Then, raising her eyes, she blew it dry, and folded it twice. She slipped it brazenly into her sleeve.

Shen Qinghe: …

Take it, if you like. Without base sciences, without industrial precision, no drawing could be made flesh. His bait was only bait — the mirage of a banquet.

“This is my card,” he said next, presenting a small, square calling‑note. “As Dean, I come personally to foster a strategic partnership. Such involvement itself signifies this project ranks highest in our priorities, that we hope to strengthen trust and goodwill.”

Then, with pleasant gravity, he threw down an added weight. “A Board of Trustees shall be formed. According to investment levels, partners may gain custom privileges: perhaps dedicated courses for your trades, access to direct admissions, or even — naming rights. What say you to Qingbei Academy’s Lady Xiao Yuxi Branch? A Pingyun Branch?”

“My… my name?” she whispered.

“Yes. A seat at the founding. A statue in the courtyard. Your name engraved upon its history, upon its monument. Forever bowed to by scholars, generations remembering your gift.”

Her cheeks warmed crimson. She seized the card from his still‑outstretched fingers.

Realizing her haste, she cooled her tone: “I… will consider it.”

At that moment, the system chimed once again:

【Congratulations, Host! Side Quest ‘Charm All Around’ complete. Reward: 1,000 points.】

Shen Qinghe’s lips curved. The first true smile since Yue Zhi’s treachery had cut him.

And in that instant, something bubbled, bursting unseen — the main system signed out. His old companion, the real system, returned.

“Waaaah!” The familiar voice yelped. “Host, I’m back!”

Shen Qinghe’s murmured: “You still remember to return, 12431.”

The system jolted, like a netizen outed by full name. “At work, Host! At work, I am ‘System!’”

“Understood, Teacher System.”

The system updated itself, piecing together all missed days: imprisonment, escape, the play with Wei family, the deal struck this very hour.

“Host! You’re wringing wool from air again! How dare you! You even came to Wei’s territory! Weren’t they our class enemy? Where in heaven’s name—!?”

“No guarantees,” Shen Qinghe said. His gaze gleamed faint. “But if lack of certainty stops you from moving — then you’ll never move. Wei of Pingyun are no great court faction, but money flows in rivers through their coffers. Wei Sheng dabbled with occultists, Lady Xiao Yuxi adores machines. Sweet offerings fell straight into my mouth; was I not to bite? I worried for funding. And now a treasury lies open.”

Once, the emperor had sent him far away, into obscurity in Cangzhou, to school him to patience. He had endured. Yet still he had been crushed by Yue Zhi. Alone, he could risk all. Barefoot, he could tread where the shod feared. But now, too many lives sheltered behind him. He could not — must not lose.

Faster. Faster still.

Xiao Yuxi toyed with the card. A moment’s thrill clouded in sober thought. Wei Sheng dead, patriarch spitting blood — she had been flush with triumph when she agreed. Later, she thought… if Shen Qinghe truly came, she might one day cut his head to secure major trade routes herself.

But the word “steam” whispered a temptation she could not erase.

She had grown in the Xiao clan, royal kindred who squandered in silk, worthless men as rotten as corpses. The new emperor — different, hardened by the Northwest. Perhaps the only hope, she knew, for dynasty.

And Emperor Xiao, unlike ancestral rulers, had no harem, no heirs. Xiao Yuxi once thought rebelliously: were she emperor, she would certainly keep a thousand concubines, a palace of beauties. Had emperors before not? How joyless Xiao Yuanzheng seemed, living like an ascetic.

Her sly gaze fell between him and Shen Qinghe…

A spark of realization. Impossible, absurd — or could it be? Her cousin the emperor… a cut‑sleeve?

The more she considered, the more convincing the thought became. The notion tickled her until her lips curved with cunning.

“I am still not assured,” she finally proclaimed, resting cheek in palm and staring at Shen Qinghe. “So then — I find you pleasing. You shall marry me. What I own will be yours, and yours mine. That is how you can set my heart at ease.”

Shen Qinghe nearly sprayed his drink across the hall.

“Cough, cough—!”

Seeing him fluster at last, Lady Xiao rejoiced.

But his dizziness at her words grew into headache stars.

“I am mistress of this household, a Commandery Princess, Emperor‑granted. And you yourself said I was worthy! Was it a lie? My husband lies dead, I am no shameless girl. Name and rank will be yours.”

This was not about “name”! And from her smirk — perhaps she herself had “arranged” her husband’s end.

Helpless smiles, bitter. “Spare me, Lady. Only the reverence of loyalty do I bear.”

“Loyalty is love still,” she teased. “We will go to His Majesty together, pray him bestow the union. O Heaven‑granted fate!” Turning her gaze slyly to the emperor, she arched brow.

Shen Qinghe despaired. A jest it must be, surely. But if it were rope for his use… to build a branch alliance, the farce could be instrument.

“Good.” Xiao Yuxi’s hands clapped in delight. Crimson beads clattered with sound. “We must pick a lucky day. Immediate wedding!”

At last Emperor Xiao broke silence, voice warning: “Pingyun. Marriage is no jest.”

Her hum a long, amused note. She never cared for etiquette. And sisters had never barred themselves from brothers’ wives. But she let it slide.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” she sighed good‑naturedly.

Later, ginkgo leaves blazed gold. Shen Qinghe walked the road with the emperor beside him. His mind already spun with plans for the new campus. Admission across provinces. Screening out those tied to Qing Studies. Bringing old graduates as staff. Recruiting a faculty. All looming, all urgent.

Lost in thought. The emperor pressed his hand upon his shoulder. “Still in illness, do not bear such burdens.”

Shen Qinghe startled, then smiled. “You are right, Majesty. I was distracted.” He bowed solemnly. Head lowered, he quipped softly: “My thanks, else the Commandery Lady would have flayed me bare.”

The roofs loomed heavy. But by ginkgo trees along the path, cascades of golden leaves fell. One petal landed upon his black hair.

The emperor’s hand rose toward it. Shen Qinghe obligingly bowed his head. But at last, Xiao Yuanzheng brushed only the leaf away, not touching flesh.

“I hope you will do things that bring you joy. Your age should be for runs of horses, or the gameboard.”

Shen Qinghe looked up, watching clouds blaze. Then he looked at the golden boughs. “This work is my joy.”

If scales tip, someone must set them straight again — even at terrible cost.

“I know you worry.” His mind drifted back to that bloody day in Qichun Tower. No laws here. The powerful slaughtered as they pleased. Men became beasts who gnawed white bones into mounds.

But he clung to his own thin line of morality.

“I already killed. What else would I hesitate?” His lips curved into fierce mirth. “Let them fear me now.”

The emperor knew. He did not judge right or wrong. Only said: “Killing is never good.”

He had seen war — skies forever red, earth soaked red, rivers red. Men unrecognizable. He knew politics too killed, only cleaner, blood unseen. And thrones killed most of all.

“Sire,” Shen murmured. “Will I become… a villain?”

A foolish question — but one he could not dam.

“No.”

The answer came too quick, too certain. Cutting his thoughts.

A laugh broke from Shen Qinghe. “Such faith, Your Majesty?”

Leaves rained. Golden light bathed them both.

The emperor’s gaze reflected only one figure.

“Mn.”

He did not explain further.

The burden of Xiao’s throne was his and his alone. He could not, must not, drag a boy with him into the abyss.