BEGW C74

Chapter 74

A fresh layer of snow had fallen on the road between the academy and the tower ship.

Jiang Yuxun was forced to slow his pace, carefully lowering his voice as he tried to prevent Ying Changchuan from clearly hearing what he was saying.

“…It’s done with a knife—cutting open the belly.”

His choice of words was strangely clinical, and his tone was far too solemn.

Combined with the whistling winter wind, the whole thing carried an uncanny chill—pushing the scene eerily close to a nightmare.

After speaking, he nervously lifted his eyes to glance at Ying Changchuan.

But to his surprise, the Emperor stopped walking.

The cold moonlight broke through the thin clouds and fell across those smoky-grey eyes.

Ying Changchuan suddenly turned to look at Jiang Yuxun, stepping toward him, one slow stride after another.

The Emperor inclined his head slightly, and in that moment, his eyes were swallowed by the darkness.

“…Your Majesty?” Jiang Yuxun instinctively took a step back.

It felt as though he had fallen back into a dream—like a fish pinned on the chopping block.

The Emperor said nothing. Instead, he raised his hand.

…Ying Changchuan is trying to scare me again!

Even though Jiang Yuxun clearly knew Ying Changchuan’s hands were empty, his heart still gave an involuntary tremor.

A snowflake fell onto his eyelashes.

Unlike in his dream, Jiang Yuxun could move freely now—and in that instant, a surge of energy exploded within him.

He took a sudden step forward, grasping Ying Changchuan’s hands tightly, trying to stop whatever the Emperor intended to do next.

Having just changed into a fox-fur coat, Jiang Yuxun hadn’t yet put on gloves.

The moment his fingers touched Ying Changchuan’s, a faint warmth spread through his palms.

The wound on the back of his hand suddenly flared with heat.

Jiang Yuxun froze.

Before he could pull away, Ying Changchuan used his other hand to gently clasp his in return, gradually warming the joints that had gone stiff from the cold.

He frowned slightly and asked an unexpected question—one Jiang Yuxun had not at all anticipated.

“Why are you not wearing gloves?”

Jiang Yuxun’s heart skipped a beat, his voice flustered. “Your servant will put them on at once.”

He quickly lowered his head to look for them.

But before he could pull the gloves from his sleeve, a familiar voice called from across the street.

“Ah-Xun!”

Zhuang Youli, wrapped in fox fur, kept close to the wall as he shuffled forward cautiously. “Wait—don’t rush off! Let’s walk together!”

Jiang Yuxun: !!!

He looked at Zhuang Youli, then down at his own hands—still clasped tightly with the Emperor’s—and a terrible premonition rose in his chest.

He tried to release his grip, but at that exact moment, Zhuang Youli had already lifted his head and called out loudly, “Wait, I—”

Before he could finish, his voice cut off abruptly.

I…

Oh heavens, what in the world is happening?!

Just a second ago, Zhuang Youli had been cautiously steadying himself against the wall, but now he had jerked his hand away and rubbed his eyes furiously, staring ahead in disbelief.

…Between the whitewashed walls of the Prefect’s residence and the academy stretched a long street blanketed in snow.

The fine flakes still drifted gently with the wind, light as mist.

At the far end, the Chen River shimmered like a spill of silver light, reaching straight into the sky.

And in the middle of that snow-covered street, Jiang Yuxun and Ying Changchuan stood face to face, their hands tightly intertwined.

Even now, the Emperor’s gaze had not moved from Jiang Yuxun’s face.

The space between them was impossibly small—if the Emperor merely inclined his head, he could have…

The entire street was silent.

From within the Prefect’s residence came the scraping sound of soldiers clearing snow from the walls.

A tall bamboo pole brushed over the top of the courtyard wall, dislodging a heavy clump of snow—

which promptly fell straight onto Zhuang Youli’s head.

He gasped sharply, eyes wide.

The faint scent of dragon musk lingering on Jiang Yuxun’s hair, along with his recent strange behavior, resurfaced vividly in Zhuang Youli’s mind.

“Youli—” Jiang Yuxun began, trying to explain, only to realize his voice had gone hoarse at some point.

Before he could continue, Ying Changchuan quietly pulled out his own gloves and slipped them over Jiang Yuxun’s hands, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Warmth once again enveloped Jiang Yuxun.

But in his mind, there was only one frantic thought—

It’s over. It’s completely over. I’ll never clear my name now!

“I—I… uh…” Zhuang Youli stammered helplessly, unable to form a coherent sentence.

What else could this possibly look like?!

Ah-Xun and His Majesty, standing alone in a deserted alley, holding hands—it was obvious what they were doing!

Oh no… did I just interrupt their moment?!

A wave of despair washed over Zhuang Youli.

Raised on his father’s constant lectures about “the way of officials,” he suddenly had no idea whether he should bow—or turn and flee for his life.

They never taught him this kind of etiquette!

After several heartbeats, he finally gritted his teeth, raised a trembling hand to his forehead, and began to bow to the Emperor.

But the moment he straightened, his foot slipped on the snow, and he fell hard onto the ground.

“Ah—!”

“Youli, are you all right?”

Jiang Yuxun seized the chance to pull his hands free and hurried forward to help Zhuang Youli up—using the excuse to escape the Emperor’s gaze.

As he bent to offer his hand, he whispered hastily, “That just now was an accident. Don’t read too much into it.”

But when their eyes met, Zhuang Youli’s expression said everything—

Jiang Yuxun, if you keep pretending, it’s just getting ridiculous now.

That winter, the ice and snow disasters were especially severe.

The river within Xikou City had frozen solid, halting all boat travel.

Yet amidst misfortune, there was still a trace of luck—

the southern regions of the Chen River were sparsely populated, their residents newly settled and concentrated.

Most of the northern immigrants had been relocated into government-built housing blocks.

The capital city of Xikou had strong buildings and stocked granaries.

But the areas beyond it—those were the ones in real danger.

The group had planned to depart early the next morning to inspect the outer counties far from the river.

However, fallen trees had blocked the official road, delaying them for at least half a day.

…

The women’s workshop had worked through the night, producing the first batch of cotton coats.

At dawn, these were loaded onto carts and sent into the city.

In another academy in Xikou, countless displaced citizens were camped inside, sleeping on makeshift bedding.

Classrooms meant for twenty now held fifty or sixty people after the desks had been cleared away.

Not wanting to disturb them, Jiang Yuxun only peeked in from the doorway.

But one glance was enough for him to notice something wrong.

The room was overcrowded, and the charcoal braziers for heating were dangerously close to the people.

He immediately turned and said quietly, “Lord Liang, no matter how cold it gets, make sure the rooms are ventilated when burning charcoal. And once everyone leaves, extinguish the fire right away to avoid accidents.”

“Yes, my lord!” The local official, Liang Zhiwei, quickly nodded and took note.

Almost all sources of heat in the city were concentrated here.

Besides simple braziers, there was another heating device called the liaolu—made up of a cover, a cauldron, a hood, and a stove—used for both warmth and cooking.

Steam rose from the liaolu in the corner, wafting gently through the crowded room.

Seeing this, Jiang Yuxun stopped.

The steam drifted into the room, meaning the stove was placed upwind.

He quickly cautioned, “That liaolu also needs to be moved—it cannot be placed where the wind blows in. The fumes from burning charcoal are colorless and odorless. If the people are poisoned, they won’t even realize it.”

Then he left quietly.

In past years, Taoyan County had never grown this cold, so its officials had little concept of “charcoal poisoning.”

Liang Zhiwei shuddered at the thought, bowing deeply. “From now on, I’ll send people to check every night.”

As they stepped back into the snow, Jiang Yuxun counted softly on his fingers while explaining,

“Symptoms of poisoning include dizziness, nausea, and confusion. In worse cases, chest tightness and difficulty breathing. If anyone doesn’t wake, check carefully—do not ignore it. I’ll summon the imperial physicians later to explain the proper response.”

In ancient times, people rarely traveled far from home.

Their world ended where their village did.

Even officials from Zhao Capital assumed everyone knew how to handle charcoal safely.

Jiang Yuxun was silently thankful he had come to see for himself.

“…Good! Thank you for the warning, Lord Jiang!” Liang Zhiwei bowed deeply again, his voice trembling. “Had you not spoken, we might’ve had a tragedy on our hands.”

He looked to be around Zhuang Yue’s age. Seeing him bow so low, Jiang Yuxun quickly helped him up. “No need for such formality, Lord Liang. The climates differ between north and south—that’s precisely why we’re here.”

The man smiled sheepishly. “With you here, Lord Jiang, we all feel reassured.”

Jiang Yuxun waved off the praise at once.

Liang Zhiwei’s words were no exaggeration.

Though young, Jiang Yuxun had earned everyone’s trust since the southern inspection began.

His presence alone steadied the chaos like an anchor.

※

The road would take another hour to clear.

Aside from Ying Changchuan, who remained occupied with military affairs, most had retreated to the ship to rest and warm up.

Jiang Yuxun, however, went with several Xuan Seal Guards and Liang Zhiwei toward the outskirts of the city.

He merely intended to check whether the collapsed homes could still be repaired—but before long, a carriage appeared ahead, gliding slowly through the snowy street.

Taoyan’s people lived hard lives.

Only a handful in the entire county could afford a carriage.

Yet this one was brand new, drawn by a strong, well-bred horse—completely out of place in bleak Xikou City.

Its windows were tightly shut. No one could see who was inside.

Standing at the street corner, Jiang Yuxun asked in a low voice, “Is that a carriage from the Prefect’s residence?”

“No, my lord. I’ve never seen it before,” Liang Zhiwei replied, his face suddenly serious.

“…I see.”

The main road out of Xikou was blocked by fallen trees—only the waterways remained open.

In truth, the entire city was an isolated island now.

Even walking was difficult on the icy ground, let alone driving a carriage.

Jiang Yuxun had been here a full day and night, and this was the first vehicle he had seen moving through the streets.

…Something abnormal always hides something foul.

He turned to one of the Xuan Seal Guards. “Follow it. Quietly.”

“Yes, my lord.”

The carriage wound through several narrow alleys before stopping at the back door of a private home.

Jiang Yuxun didn’t move yet. “Lord Liang, do you know who lives here?”

“Sir, this house belongs to a man named Wei Shuxi,” Liang Zhiwei answered. “He moved here from near Zhao Capital early this year.”

Jiang Yuxun exchanged a quick glance with the guards.

That name—they all recognized it.

The Wei family had once been a powerful clan of the former dynasty, still influential under the Zhou.

But no glory lasts forever.

Several of their kin had been foolish enough to join the failed coup against the throne during the Emperor’s staged “injury.”

They lost nearly everything—property confiscated, friends vanished.

Wei Shuxi, as head of the disgraced family, had no choice but to move south with his household.

“That carriage came from the direction of the academy,” Jiang Yuxun said sharply. “Go—open it. See what they’re carrying.”

The look in his eyes was like the surface of a still lake hiding a storm beneath.

“Yes, my lord!”

The guards kicked the carriage door open with a thud.

The driver tumbled off, clutching his head and crying for mercy.

One of the guards climbed in and dragged out a sack.

“Cotton!” he shouted. “Lord Jiang—it’s a sack of cotton!”

More guards rushed into the Wei residence and pulled out several trembling figures.

Jiang Yuxun stepped forward, taking the sack in hand. He didn’t even look at it before fixing his gaze coldly on Wei Shuxi.

“Someone’s been buying cotton from the academy,” he murmured to Liang Zhiwei.

The alley fell silent.

Wei Shuxi was about fifty, heavyset and sweating despite the cold.

Dragged out in his underclothes, he shivered violently in the snow.

When he saw Jiang Yuxun, his face drained of color—as if he’d seen a ghost.

“Lord Jiang, mercy—please, mercy!”

“Mercy?” Jiang Yuxun’s tone was calm. “Then you admit you’ve committed a crime worthy of death?”

“N-no…” Wei Shuxi shook his head desperately.

He had once glimpsed Jiang Yuxun from afar in Zhao Capital—refined, noble, and gentle. He had never imagined the man could look so terrifying.

Before he could speak further, Jiang Yuxun turned to the guards. “Bring everyone from the Wei family, along with this sack of cotton, back to the Prefect’s residence. Do not miss a single one.”

“Yes, my lord!”

Wei Shuxi broke almost immediately under questioning.

He wasn’t lacking in old clothes—but he wanted new ones.

He feared the cold would grow worse, and in his greed, decided comfort mattered more than anyone else’s survival.

Through bribery, he had bought off guards and officials to smuggle a sack of raw cotton meant for disaster relief.

He thought no one would notice.

Trembling, he pleaded, “Please, Lord Jiang, I confess! I can atone—I’ll donate ten times this amount of cotton to the people! Just spare my life!”

The corrupt guards and minor officials kowtowed beside him.

“Have mercy, my lord! It was only a small mistake! The sack barely weighed half a stone—”

Wei Shuxi added frantically, “Yes, yes! It’s just a little cotton! Under the Zhou laws, that’s hardly a serious crime!”

In the chaos of the former dynasty, Taoyan had developed its own brand of corruption.

Though the dynasty had changed, the rot remained.

To them, it was just a harmless transaction.

Jiang Yuxun suddenly laughed—quietly, bitterly—and turned.

“Only a sack of cotton?” He crouched before Wei Shuxi, eyes cold. “In times of disaster, that’s not a sack of cotton—it’s a dozen human lives.”

His voice grew sharper, trembling with fury.

Never before had Jiang Yuxun lost his composure in public.

“What? You think human lives can be bought with money?”

The hall fell deathly silent.

Wei Shuxi’s hands twitched nervously—because deep down, that was what he believed.

Jiang Yuxun’s fists tightened until his knuckles whitened. His entire body trembled with rage.

“Since you value warmth so much,” he said with a cold smile, “why don’t you step outside—and feel what winter truly is?”

“Take him out,” he ordered. “Let him stand in the snow until he understands.”

“Yes, sir!”

Wei Shuxi turned pale, shaking uncontrollably.

“Mercy! Lord Jiang, please—have mercy!” he cried, thrashing as they dragged him away. “It’s snowing—if I go out there, I’ll die!”

But Jiang Yuxun only walked to the table, picked up a cup, and clenched it tightly in his hand.

“Take them all away,” he said coldly. “And close the door.”

The fury burning in him was almost tangible.

The guards and officials bowed and retreated, leaving him alone.

When the door shut, Jiang Yuxun drained the cold tea in one swallow.

His hands trembled violently—the cup nearly slipped from his grasp.

Taking a deep breath, he lifted the teapot—but in his agitation, spilled water across the table, soaking the mat.

He reached for a handkerchief to wipe it up.

Then—knock, knock.

He froze. His voice was low, forced calm. “Wait a moment. I’ll speak with you shortly.”

He continued wiping, but the knocking came again.

Irritation flared. “Leave me be! I wish to be alone.”

Still the knocking persisted.

Enough! Was someone here to plead for those men already?

Slamming down the handkerchief, he strode toward the door, his footsteps loud against the floorboards.

A few seconds later, he yanked the door open. “Did I not say—stop calling for me!”

The door flew back with a heavy thud.

Had the person outside not caught it in time, it would’ve struck them squarely.

“I said—”

Jiang Yuxun bit off the rest of his words.

The man outside was cloaked in black, snow dusting his shoulders.

Who else could it be but the Emperor?

“Ying—”

“No—Your Majesty! Wh-what brings you here?”

He stumbled sideways, trying to hide the messy table behind him.

The Emperor entered, serene as ever, as though he hadn’t noticed Jiang Yuxun’s slip of the tongue.

The cold wind followed him in. Jiang Yuxun stood frozen, like a statue.

…Wasn’t Ying Changchuan supposed to

be in council over military matters?

Why was he here?

As he passed, the Emperor’s lazy voice brushed softly by his ear, carried on the wind.

“I heard,” he said, “that my beloved minister is displeased.”

Then Ying Changchuan turned, a faint, helpless smile curving his lips.

“Rather than brood in silence,” he said lightly, “why not tell me what troubles you?”