BEGW C107

 

Chapter 107

Although Ying Changchuan and Jiang Yuxun were separated by a little over six years—nearly seven—

he was not yet thirty this year. No matter how one looked at it, he could hardly be called old.

By modern standards, who wouldn’t praise him as young and accomplished?

Seeing a subtle change in the emperor’s expression, Jiang Yuxun finished his brief reflection and immediately waved his hands.

“I didn’t mean that you’re old, Your Majesty. Please don’t overthink it!”

Little did he know that the more sincere he sounded at this moment, the more aggravating it became.

Seeing Ying Changchuan knit his brows slightly, Jiang Yuxun—completely unaware that he was only digging himself deeper—continued to add,

“Right now, Your Majesty isn’t any different from how you were when we first met in Yuyang Palace… Even if there are a few years’ difference in age, it doesn’t matter. And if we’re talking purely about physical condition, you’re far healthier than I am.”

He truly meant every word he said.

As he spoke, he couldn’t help but lift his gaze nervously toward Ying Changchuan.

Their eyes met at that moment.

Jiang Yuxun’s dark pupils were filled with unmistakable sincerity.

Ying Changchuan had never been someone who cared about age.

Having spent more than a decade fighting on the battlefield, he viewed birth, aging, illness, and death more lightly than most people.

—After all, no one escapes this fate.

When Empress Dowager Zhaoyi passed away, Ying Changchuan had indeed felt sorrow, but bound as he was by the pressures of war, reason had outweighed emotion.

Yet now, these few simple words from Jiang Yuxun had effortlessly thrown his heart into slight disarray.

The day he heard Jiang Yuxun say “live to a hundred years,” a faint sense of unease had suddenly arisen in Ying Changchuan’s heart.

It was not because he had been reminded of the age gap between them,

but because of Jiang Yuxun’s childhood—those long years spent bedridden with illness.

Although Jiang Yuxun’s health had improved greatly by now, his constitution was still weaker than that of ordinary people…

The gauze curtains in the hall continued to sway gently with the wind.

All the romantic thoughts in Ying Changchuan’s mind had already vanished without a trace.

This was a topic he had never liked to dwell on.

Already burdened with attachment and reluctance to lose, he suddenly reached out and grasped the hand Jiang Yuxun had been lightly swinging, staring deeply into his eyes as he said,

“In a few days, I’ll summon the imperial physicians to examine you again and prescribe some medicine to properly regulate your body.”

“…Huh?”

Just a moment ago, Jiang Yuxun had still been worrying about whether his words were too blunt. Now he froze on the spot.

Weren’t they talking about Ying Changchuan’s age just now?

How had it suddenly turned into him needing health maintenance?

Ying Changchuan’s line of thought really jumped too abruptly.

Still unable to process it, Jiang Yuxun looked at him in confusion.

“I haven’t even caught a cold recently. Why would I need to see the imperial physicians?”

This time, Ying Changchuan didn’t answer his question. Instead, he suddenly pulled Jiang Yuxun up by the hand.

The movement was large and decisive. After being forced to stand up from Ying Changchuan’s lap, Jiang Yuxun instinctively tightened his grip on the hand holding his.

A summer breeze slipped through the gaps between the pillars, lifting the hems of their robes.

Ying Changchuan continued to pull him forward, leaning slightly to kiss the crown of his head as he said casually,

“The wind’s picking up. Let’s go back and rest.”

Wind?

Summer hadn’t even passed, and the air still carried heat.

At this time of year, most people wanted to catch the breeze and escape the heat—why was Ying Changchuan deliberately avoiding the wind instead?

…The emperor’s mind was truly as unfathomable as the depths of the sea.

Although Yuyang Palace required repairs, it absolutely could not burden the people.

The newly drafted palace plans showed that the basic layout of the imperial complex had not changed much from before.

The era of Great Zhou favored elevated structures.

Thus, most buildings constructed on low ground were rebuilt on their original sites but raised higher, following contemporary styles.

At the same time, craftsmen excavated large numbers of artificial waterways and underground drainage systems within the palace. These redirected accumulated water from areas less prone to flooding toward the artificial lake at the southwest corner of Yuyang Palace.

This approach minimized construction while ensuring livability,

and even added new scenery to the palace grounds.

The former Yuyang Palace had been extravagantly lavish, a true artistic masterpiece.

The newly rebuilt Yuyang Palace, however, incorporated far more considerations rooted in science and practicality.

Craftsmen skilled in craftsmanship and engineering would, across the span of centuries, jointly complete this palace that carried so much history.

The palace north of Zhaodu—silent for more than three years—had come alive once again.

Jiang Yuxun and Ying Changchuan stayed in Yuyang Palace for a day, then boarded a carriage and departed for Yanxian Lake.

The carriage, made of elm wood, was spacious and imposing. Bells hung from its four corners, swaying gently with the horses’ steps and producing clear, pleasant chimes.

It passed through the long streets of Zhaodu, slowly exiting the city gates and heading into the countryside.

Not only was the carriage wide, even its side panels showed no obvious seams—clearly crafted from a single slab of high-quality elm wood.

Such a carriage could be worth a thousand gold on the market, yet in present-day Zhaodu it was no longer rare.

Not only did high-ranking officials own such “luxury carriages,” many wealthy merchants had also acquired them for their estates.

From afar, children playing along the roadside outside the city only glanced back once before ducking into the corners, entirely unimpressed.

Horses from Kehan, aside from being used as war mounts, had also flowed into civilian life.

In just a few short years, scenes of fine horses filling the streets had become commonplace—far removed from the days when commoners could only afford ox carts.

There was nothing urgent to attend to today, so the carriage moved at an unhurried pace.

Rocked by the motion, Jiang Yuxun leaned against the carriage wall and soon fell asleep.

Outside the carriage—

“Whoa—”

The Xuanyin Guard driving the carriage suddenly pulled the reins tight, bringing it to a stop by the roadside.

Hearing the disturbance, Jiang Yuxun rubbed his eyes, lifted the curtain slightly, and asked softly,

“Lord Qi, what’s happening outside?”

“Please rest assured, Lord Jiang. There’s a cotton transport cart passing ahead. We need to yield for a moment.”

This journey was undertaken incognito, with the utmost effort to remain low-key.

Not only did the carriage move slowly, but whenever it encountered faster vehicles or heavily laden carts, it would yield immediately.

As Qi finished speaking, Jiang Yuxun saw a tall draft horse pulling a flatbed cart slowly along the road.

A draft horse was a breed specifically used for hauling goods—large in build, slow-moving, yet unmatched in strength and endurance.

Cotton had already been widely promoted across the Zhaodu plains and even throughout Great Zhou.

However, having lived long in Xianyou Palace, Jiang Yuxun had not yet seen cotton transport firsthand.

He drew the curtain wider, peering curiously past the horse.

The wide flatbed cart carried a mountain of cotton bundles tied with hemp rope—nearly two zhang tall—covered with waterproof oilcloth.

As the tall draft horse walked and paused, the cotton mountain trembled gently along with it.

Like a white cloud fallen to the ground.

Ying Changchuan, seated beside Jiang Yuxun, followed his gaze toward the cart.

Jiang Yuxun turned to glance at the emperor, then said softly,

“There’s still a stretch of river near the outskirts of Zhaodu that hasn’t been opened to navigation, so some cotton still needs to be transported overland to the workshops.”

With gunpowder aiding excavation, progress on the Yi River had far exceeded expectations.

At present, the upstream sections were basically dredged and navigable. Only the downstream winding sections had yet to undergo straightening.

Jiang Yuxun spoke modestly.

From another perspective, what he was really saying was this—

most of the cotton grown along both banks of the Yi River could now already be transported by water to the workshops built on the opposite shore.

They were one step closer to full river navigation.

The draft horse and cart gradually disappeared at the end of the road.

Qi Pingsha urged the horses forward again.

“Giddyap!”

It was currently the agricultural off-season.

Yet the villagers living near Zhaodu were far from idle.

Men worked either on the construction of Ningping granaries or within Yuyang Palace, while women spun thread in workshops built along the Yi River.

—A strong laborer like them could earn nearly two hundred Jia-cast coins per month.

With no worries about food and money in hand, street vendors multiplied along the roads.

Thus, even as the carriage moved farther from Zhaodu, the scenery along the official road showed no signs of desolation.

“Sweet melons! Sweet melons, cheap!”

“Come try some flatbread!”

The cries of vendors pierced the wooden carriage walls and reached Jiang Yuxun’s ears.

Everyone wanted a better life—to taste more fine wine and food, to see more beautiful sights within their limited lifespan.

As commoners gained money, vendors multiplied as well.

Sweet melons, once exclusive to the nobility, were no longer rare. Beyond food, vendors even sold flower hairpins and embroidered goods.

Zhaodu had yet to form a dedicated “market.”

To Jiang Yuxun, who came from the modern world, this prosperity still seemed insufficient.

Yet at this moment, through these early “saplings,” he felt he could already see a future forest brimming with life.

Since encountering the draft horse, Jiang Yuxun had not lowered the curtain again.

He lifted his gaze toward the sky.

It had rained all night in Zhaodu. By morning, the sky was a vast, flawless blue—not a single wisp of cloud.

At that moment, Jiang Yuxun suddenly thought of Tong Hailin, buried in Taoyan, and the countless heroic souls beneath the northern sands.

…If only they could see this.

The carriage reached Yanxian Lake in the afternoon.

This was the hottest time of day, yet the children living by Yanxian Lake did not nap to escape the heat. Instead, they gathered in small groups along the lakeshore to play in the water.

Most wore short garments with sleeves rolled high.

Some younger children were completely naked, splashing in the lake and catching fish.

With a loud splash, a dark-skinned child scooped up water with a ladle and shouted at someone ahead,

“—Stop right there!”

Before his words had fully fallen, he flung the water forward, soaking the person in front of him.

Another youth wiped water from his face with his sleeve and looked around, asking,

“Who splashed me just now?”

When no one answered, he grabbed the drooping willow branches by the shore and kicked water toward the others.

In just a few splashes, everyone’s hair was drenched.

After baking under the sun all day, the lake water had turned warm.

Playing here wouldn’t make them sick, but staying too long would darken exposed skin, even causing redness and peeling.

Despite this, no one showed any intention of leaving.

With most adults busy working, aside from these children there were few people enjoying the lake.

Jiang Yuxun and Ying Changchuan no longer held back and dismounted, walking openly toward the water.

The children barely spared them a glance.

As he walked, Jiang Yuxun couldn’t help watching the children, envy coloring his voice.

“If I were their age, I’d definitely join in and play to my heart’s content.”

Ying Changchuan let his gaze rest on the lake, then leaned closer and asked,

“Do you like playing in the water?”

Without thinking, Jiang Yuxun nodded.

“I never played like this as a child. Watching them now makes me feel a bit envious.”

“There’s water on Yanxian Island as well. It’s more convenient to play there,” Ying Changchuan said casually.

As they spoke, they reached the shore.

Not far away was the small covered boat prepared in advance by the Xuanyin Guard.

Thinking of the island streams, Jiang Yuxun nodded.

“That’s true…”

 

However, before Jiang Yuxun could finish his sentence, a child suddenly came stumbling toward the spot where the two of them were standing.

At the same time, a childish shout rang out in their ears—

“Where do you think you’re running—!”

The sudden charge startled the Xuanyin Guards stationed at a distance.

Qi Pingsha instinctively widened his eyes. He hadn’t even managed to shout “Careful!” before the child chasing after the first one squatted down in the water, scooped up a double handful, and hurled it forward with all his might.

A huge splash erupted.

Ying Changchuan frowned reflexively.

Even a sovereign who had spent years galloping across battlefields had not expected a child to be this bold.

The lake water not only drenched the child who was running ahead, but also splashed onto Jiang Yuxun and Ying Changchuan, soaking their clothes.

Qi Pingsha, commander of the Xuanyin Guard and a man who had seen countless storms, still couldn’t help staggering in place.

“…Heavens above.”

—Never in his wildest dreams had Qi Pingsha imagined that, after so many years in the Xuanyin Guard, he would witness a group of children openly attacking the Son of Heaven and Lord Jiang.

Snapping back to his senses, he hurried forward, intending to bow to Ying Changchuan and accept punishment at once.

Yet before he could even raise his hand, Jiang Yuxun’s laughter cut him off.

“Hahahaha—why is your sleeve completely soaked?”

Jiang Yuxun had never seen Ying Changchuan look this disheveled before.

For a moment, he found the scene oddly novel.

When the lake water came crashing toward them, Ying Changchuan—standing beside Jiang Yuxun—had instinctively raised his arm to shield him from the “attack.”

Now, Ying Changchuan’s sleeve was thoroughly drenched, while Jiang Yuxun was wet mainly along his hem and shoes, as though he had just waded through water.

The children, though unfamiliar with who Jiang Yuxun and Ying Changchuan were, froze the moment they realized they had “hit” someone else.

They stood rooted to the ground, clutching the hems of their clothes, their earlier bravado completely gone.

Ying Changchuan said nothing.

But the pressure radiating from him was overwhelming.

Those smoke-gray eyes carried an oppressive presence.

The two children who had caused the trouble didn’t dare look at him at all, instead turning timidly toward Jiang Yuxun.

One of them bit his lip and asked nervously,

“Th-this… this clothing is expensive, right? If you trust me, sir, I can take it home and wash it clean for you… would that be alright?”

Ying Changchuan’s gaze had shifted to them at some point. The child speaking instantly felt as though needles were prickling his back, his voice growing smaller and smaller.

By the end, it was barely louder than a mosquito’s buzz.

The other child began trembling.

“O-or… sir, we could, um… compensate you with a new one?”

They looked no more than six or seven years old.

As they spoke, their faces scrunched up like bitter melons—so comically distressed that it was hard not to smile.

The other children playing around Yanxian Lake noticed the commotion. They stopped what they were doing and all turned to look at Jiang Yuxun and Ying Changchuan.

The fabric of their clothes was silk, catching a soft sheen under the midday sun—clearly high-quality material.

…How much would something like that cost to replace?

The thought made the children even more nervous.

Jiang Yuxun, of course, had no intention of holding children accountable, much less demanding compensation.

He first turned to the tense Xuanyin Guards and nodded, signaling that everything was fine.

Then he looked back at the two children and said gently,

“It’s alright. The sun is strong today—the water will dry soon enough. Playing in the water to cool off is fine, but the lakeside is still dangerous. In the future, pay attention not only to passersby, but also to undercurrents beneath the water. Be careful—don’t let this turn into a real accident.”

Hearing that Jiang Yuxun wasn’t going to scold them, the two children instantly let out long sighs of relief.

“Yes, yes!”

The others nearby relaxed as well.

“Don’t worry, sir! We’ll definitely be more careful!”

“That’s good,” Jiang Yuxun said with a smile, finally turning to walk with Ying Changchuan toward the small covered boat.

Though the emperor’s sleeve was soaked through, there wasn’t the slightest hint of embarrassment about him.

If anything, it made him look even more relaxed and dashing.

He clearly didn’t care about the water stains at all.

As they walked, Jiang Yuxun couldn’t help thinking—Yanxian Lake was the best place near Zhaodu to play in the water. Every summer, countless people came here to cool off.

As the saying goes, “堵不如疏”—blocking is never as good as guiding.

Rather than letting people play freely and risk accidents, it would be better for the authorities to designate safe areas and set up protective nets…

The splashing had stopped, but ripples continued spreading across the lake in widening circles.

The small covered boat rocked gently like a cradle atop the water.

Ying Changchuan stepped aboard first, reaching out to help—but Jiang Yuxun lightly hopped on by himself.

Yet before Jiang Yuxun could steady himself, a sudden shout erupted behind them.

The group of children—still buzzing with post-disaster excitement—had gathered at the shore, waving vigorously and shouting at the top of their lungs:

“Thank you, big brother! Thank you, uncle!”

Jiang Yuxun: !!!

“兄长 (big brother)” and “阿叔 (uncle)” were both respectful forms of address in the local Zhaodu dialect.

But no matter how respectful they sounded, they didn’t change the fact that the two men had just been shoved into different generations.

Hearing those words, Jiang Yuxun—who had just landed steadily in the boat—wobbled so badly he nearly sat straight down into the water.

He immediately steadied himself, then pretended he hadn’t heard anything at all, following Ying Changchuan into the cabin.

Don’t laugh. Absolutely don’t laugh.

Ying Changchuan had only just been brooding over age yesterday—there was no way Jiang Yuxun could laugh about this today.

“Pfft—”

Even though he told himself that, the moment he sat down, Jiang Yuxun glanced up at the man across from him and, upon seeing Ying Changchuan frown, burst out laughing anyway.

A clear look of displeasure—rare on the emperor’s usually inscrutable face—appeared instantly.

“Hahaha—sorry, sorry,” Jiang Yuxun said, forcing himself to take a deep breath. He lightly patted the back of Ying Changchuan’s hand.

“Those kids are only six or seven at most. There’s no way they should be calling me ‘big brother’—they were probably just joking.”

The little covered boat pushed away from shore, heading toward the center of the lake.

With the sound of water splashing softly, Ying Changchuan pulled Jiang Yuxun into his arms.

He pinched the other man’s earlobe and asked, his tone oddly suggestive,

“So, A-Xun also thinks we’re of the same generation?”

Jiang Yuxun nodded.

“Of course.”

“Then if we’re peers,” the emperor continued, deliberately lowering his voice so it flowed like water across Jiang Yuxun’s heart,

“what should someone a few years younger than me call me?”

“Cough, cough.”

Jiang Yuxun cleared his throat and, imitating the children from earlier, said,

“…Big brother(兄长 — xiōngzhǎng not gege)?”

“Try another one,” Ying Changchuan said. “What did you used to call me?”

The midday lake shimmered with dazzling reflections, making Jiang Yuxun’s eyes ache.

He closed them instinctively. The scene from the grasslands months ago suddenly resurfaced in his mind.

If possible, he would very much like to play dumb right now.

But the moment that memory rose, the word was already leaving his lips—

He leaned close to Ying Changchuan’s ear and softly called,

“…gege.”

 

The boat drifted farther from shore.

At noon, Yanxian Lake was utterly quiet—nothing but faint ripples and the sound of their breathing.

That single “gege” rang out with startling clarity.

The instant the word fell, Ying Changchuan’s breathing grew noticeably heavier.

Seeing this, Jiang Yuxun—who had just been forced to say it—suddenly felt as though he had scored a small victory.

It was midday, after all, and they were out in the open wilderness.

Certain that Ying Changchuan wouldn’t dare do anything, Jiang Yuxun leaned closer, pressed his lips to the emperor’s ear, and began calling “gege” again—changing his tone, playing with the word, over and over…

Completely unaware that the hand resting on his waist was slowly tightening.

At noon, there was only one small covered boat on Yanxian Lake.

It moved steadily across the water, sending out neat, rhythmic ripples.

And yet, at some unknown moment, the boat suddenly rocked hard, sending up a splash.

The ripples below instantly scattered in chaos, startling the birds on the lake into flight.

……

There was only one boatman aboard the covered boat—a man born deaf.

He rowed slowly, and it wasn’t until near dusk that the boat finally reached the shore.

Unable to speak, the boatman docked the vessel, stepped onto another boat, and quietly departed Yanxian Island.

In the blink of an eye, he was gone.

“…He’s already far away. You can come out now, Aiqing(beloved minister).”

Ying Changchuan’s voice reached Jiang Yuxun from outside the cabin.

Jiang Yuxun, who had been half-leaning against the boat wall, finally edged forward little by little. As Ying Changchuan extended his hand, Jiang Yuxun’s gaze landed on his fingertips.

“What is it?” Ying Changchuan asked.

“D-did you… wash your hands?”

Only after speaking did Jiang Yuxun realize his voice was slightly hoarse.

Ying Changchuan’s boldness far exceeded Jiang Yuxun’s expectations.

And his learning ability, in this regard, was frighteningly good.

A swordsman’s hand bore a thin layer of calluses; his movements were becoming smoother each time—

So smooth that Jiang Yuxun deeply regretted calling him “gege” earlier, even wishing he could permanently seal those two characters away.

Jiang Yuxun’s shoes and socks had already been soaked before boarding, and had just been removed by Ying Changchuan to dry at the bow.

Without waiting for an answer, Jiang Yuxun quickly looked away from Ying Changchuan’s hands and bent down to inspect his footwear.

Yet Ying Changchuan didn’t answer the question about washing his hands at all. Instead, he lowered his gaze and said softly,

“They’re not dry yet.”

“Then… never mind,” Jiang Yuxun said, still forcing calm, completely unaware that his words had already turned disordered.

“I remember the island paths are all stone slabs. They’ve been under the sun all day… so they should be warm now. I’ll just go up barefoot first, then rinse my feet later.”

As he spoke, Jiang Yuxun braced himself against the boat wall and stepped forward.

Before he could reach the shore, Ying Changchuan’s hand settled lightly at his waist.

Smiling faintly, he said in a low voice,

“There’s no need to go through all that trouble.”

“What—”

The covered boat rocked violently once more with their movement.

Before Jiang Yuxun could finish speaking, Ying Changchuan had already lifted him up with one arm and murmured near his ear,

“A-Xun called me ‘gege’ so many times. As your gege, shouldn’t I take good care of you?”