Chapter 124: The Xingyi Granary

Liu Buwen prayed inside the temple and struck the great bell. Juntao, standing beside him, appeared somewhat dazed.

“Juntao, I guess you’re worried about the same things I am,” Liu Buwen said.

Juntao focused deeply and nodded.

The atmosphere felt awkward to Liu Buwen. He longed to journey beyond the frontier with Luo Gan and the others to see the northern lands, yet in the end, Luo Gan left him this rare chance to become a civil official. The conflicted scholar could only hope he would not disappoint Luo Gan’s goodwill—that he might succeed and gain honor, or at least pass the examination with some respectable distinction.

The dance competition had concluded, and Juntao had failed to advance to the next round. It had all been in vain. She was left uncertain whether to wait for Luo Gan’s return or to go back to Anping County. A difficult choice lay before her.

“Today is the exam. I hope everything goes well for you,” Juntao said gently to Liu Buwen.

Candidates from all directions flooded the examination halls. At the entrance, officials checked each examinee’s identity and background before allowing them in to prepare for the test.

Liu Buwen sat nervously. Both in knowledge and in spirit, he felt this was his best preparation yet. Still, he could hardly contain his inner excitement. Thousands of people sat at different testing sites, with ink, brushes, paper, and inkstones arranged neatly on every desk, awaiting each candidate to begin writing with determination.

At the center sat Liu Linfu, majestic and commanding, holding the fate of all examinees in his hands. Liu Buwen took his seat according to his examination number, sitting upright, ready to face destiny.

Meanwhile, in the palace of Chang’an city, Emperor Taizong pondered deeply, uncertain of what course to take. The attendants dared not speak, aware that such a somber expression meant the emperor faced grave matters.

Hastened footsteps approached, and Changsun Wuji entered the hall alone to meet the emperor.

“Uncle, you’ve finally arrived. The court does not seem peaceful,” said Emperor Taizong.

Changsun Wuji furrowed his brows, guessing what might have caused the unrest.

“Is there a rebellion brewing?” he asked.

“Not exactly,” replied Emperor Taizong.

“Could it be someone colluding with the enemy, then?” Changsun Wuji pressed.

Emperor Taizong shook his head again and handed over a memorial for Changsun Wuji to read. Upon reading, he understood the emperor’s unease.

“There is a severe drought in the interior. Year after year, the harvests fail, and the people suffer greatly,” Changsun Wuji said.

Emperor Taizong sighed deeply. “Indeed, this has persisted for years. Several officials have come and gone, yet the problem remains unresolved. Is there truly no capable leader in our great Tang dynasty who can govern even a single province well?”

Changsun Wuji seemed prepared and was not surprised by the situation.

“The people have no grain and cannot survive; soldiers without food cannot win battles. Agriculture is the foundation of the nation. With droughts every year, it is easy to foresee rebellion within the interior. The stability of the Tang realm is at risk. Who, then, should we appoint to govern this crisis?”

“Your Majesty, this drought is not a new issue, nor isolated only within the interior; neighboring regions suffer as well. Talented officials can manage a drought for one year but cannot guarantee lasting stability,” Changsun Wuji replied.

Emperor Taizong grasped at this as a lifeline and asked for Changsun Wuji’s thoughts.

“Relying on my own wisdom alone will not suffice. We should summon Duke Xing, Fang Xuanling. He is truly a great talent for governing the state and securing the realm.”

Before long, Duke Xing appeared at court.

Emperor Taizong said, “I suppose you already know why I have called you here today.”

Fang Xuanling replied, “Your Majesty’s concerns are well-founded. The interior drought and the suffering people are indeed grave matters. Nothing else could weigh so heavily on you.”

Emperor Taizong asked, “You seem confident. Do you have a solution?”

Fang Xuanling replied, “It’s not a perfect plan, but drought relief cannot rely solely on short-term officials. That is no lasting strategy.”

Changsun Wuji nodded in agreement. Emperor Taizong observed them both, wondering why it took such a roundabout approach to speak plainly.

Fang Xuanling continued, “We should develop water conservancy projects and establish granaries—‘charity warehouses’—like reservoirs for grain.”

Suddenly enlightened, Emperor Taizong said, “You mean storing surplus grain during good harvests to mitigate future disasters?”

“Exactly. Water projects ensure sufficient irrigation for bountiful harvests, and the granaries minimize losses caused by calamities,” Fang Xuanling explained.

Emperor Taizong considered the plan carefully. “Our empire is not yet stable, and the treasury is not abundant. Could such a system strengthen local powers, deplete the state’s reserves, or encourage corruption among officials?”

Fang Xuanling responded, “Every measure has pros and cons. Our task is to minimize the downsides and maximize the benefits. These granaries are for the people, not officials. Anyone caught embezzling will be severely punished.”

The emperor pictured the scene: the people turning to the granaries for relief. Weighing pros and cons, he found the plan viable.

“This year, we will open the treasury for disaster relief and begin constructing these granaries and waterworks. Next year, the interior shall no longer suffer from drought,” Emperor Taizong declared.

Before departing, Xiao Zhi had finished crafting a sword scabbard—exquisite and practical—which fit the Chixiao Sword perfectly. Luo Gan was very pleased.

“This scabbard truly had to be made by you,” Luo Gan remarked.

Xiao Zhi said modestly, “It’s nothing special; I just observed how others made theirs and learned.”

“Well done. Even the strap is well made,” Luo Gan praised.

Xiao Zhi gained confidence from Luo Gan’s support of Liu Buwen. To those close to Luo Gan, though he had endured hardships, he always considered the welfare of those around him. How could they not hope for a bright future?

With the Chixiao Sword sheathed, the group prepared to set out. Yanshan brought some wine for warmth on the road and also secured some protective gear from the Turkic people. Luo Gan often practiced sword techniques with Qin Yang inside the tent. Xiao Zhi showed little interest in martial arts, thinking that if he were to fight, there would be no time to train now.

Horses galloped beyond the frontier. Huna Mu led Gelay and the cavalry ahead, with Qin Yang close by. Huna Mu, Tang Jian, and others rode in the middle, breaking through the snowy wilderness. Luo Gan, Xiao Zhi, and Yanshan rode alongside Tang Jian.

“I just thought of something,” Luo Gan said suddenly.

Xiao Zhi and Yanshan turned to him in unison.

“Why is it that, though we are clearly Han people, both the Hu and the Turks understand what we say?” Luo Gan asked.

Xiao Zhi and Yanshan looked puzzled. “We never really considered that. Could there really be different languages in the world?”

Luo Gan was shocked to realize that, for convenience, the game designers had unified all languages into Chinese—a very player-friendly choice.

Tang Jian leaned closer and said, “We don’t know how far it is to Eastern Turkic ahead. We might face many challenges. If you want to complete the mission entrusted by Duke Song, it’s best to keep a low profile. Otherwise, you might draw unnecessary trouble.”

Tang Jian spoke with unease. This group of young people seemed inexperienced and unlikely to act with perfect discretion. The mission from Duke Song was sensitive; if discovered, it could mean death.

Of course, they had no idea what disasters this letter would eventually bring.