A few flakes of white snow rested on He Chunhua's shoulders, while a broken twig was caught in He Yue's cloak; clearly, the two had walked quite a distance. Waiting until they drew near, He Lingchuan asked, "Father, Second Brother, why didn't you two ride back in a carriage? In freezing weather like this?"
"Taking a stroll passes for a rest," He Chunhua breathed out a puff of white vapor. "And it clears our heads."
For an official with cultivation, his complexion looked far too haggard. As for He Yue, He Lingchuan noticed he had acquired a pair of dark circles around his eyes, along with bloodshot veins.
"What happened to you, kid? Did you sneak out in the middle of the night to steal chickens?" He accompanied the two as they walked home.
Whether it was an illusion or not, the father and son had previously shared an unspoken rapport, which broke the moment He Lingchuan stepped between them.
"We've spent the past few nights auditing account books until dawn," He Yue yawned. "Tonight we still have to audit the military colonies. The situation is not optimistic at all."
Both father and son looked as wilted as frost-bitten eggplants, making He Lingchuan, who was brimming with energy and vitality, feel rather embarrassed.
"How bad is it?"
"Xiazhou's military colony lands are spread across five counties. The figure I received was a total of eight colonies," He Yue frowned. "That's far too few. Father managed to dig up original registers from forty-five years ago, which clearly state that Xiazhou's military colonies once totaled twenty!"
The look he cast toward their father carried a hint of admiration; to be able to track down original records that had been tucked away like that.
He Chunhua gave a light cough. "Had someone procure them."
He never fought unprepared battles.
Seeing He Lingchuan counting on his fingers, He Yue kindly explained, "Each colony is fifty qing. That means in forty-five years, six hundred qing have been lost!"
Military colony lands were a form of public land—originally unowned wasteland held by the state, then organized by local authorities for garrison troops or civilians to cultivate, with the harvested grain going toward military supplies.
The He family members all had experience with war and understood the principle that provisions must move before the army marches, and that transporting grain over a thousand li eats up seventy percent along the way. Now that Xiazhou had become the frontline, grain supplied by military colonies was bound to be of prime importance to the authorities. Producing and transporting grain locally could drastically cut down travel time and reduce losses incurred in transit.
Yet more than half of Xiazhou's military colonies were gone—what was that supposed to mean?
He Lingchuan gave an understanding "Oh." "Encroached upon again?"
"Mm. After all these years of collusion between officials and gentry, the military colony lands have all been sold off as private land." He Yue rubbed his eyes. "Another rotten account. We have to pick up the pace over the next two days to dig them all out."
"They even dared to sell military colony land?" He Lingchuan gave a thumbs-up. "Impressive."
"Several of the previous prefectural administrations borrowed from wealthy gentry and prominent clans. In bad harvest years, whatever they couldn't repay was paid off with military colony land." Auditing the books these past few days had taken He Yue from initial shock to sheer numbness. "Of course, that's only one of the reasons."
Seeing that the two looked exhausted yet had a spark in their eyes, He Lingchuan couldn't help asking, "Father, is there anything I can do?"
"I was just about to ask you." He Chunhua looked him up and down. "You broke through again?"
"Yeah."
He Yue's eyes were filled with envy. "Brother, this isn't fair. You just broke through during the descent of the Emperor's Flowing Dew, and now you have again..."
"When has this world ever had fairness?" He Lingchuan chuckled. "My broadsword has been thirsting for battle for a long time. Next time there's a major fray, I'm definitely taking the field!"
"You'll have plenty of chances." He Chunhua smiled as well. "Once Dunyu's mess is untangled, I plan to tour Xiazhou, with special attention to the northern front. You'll come with me."
As Chief Administrator of Xiazhou, he had to examine and get a clear handle on the local customs, social conditions, administration, and public sentiment across the state. Especially now, with the dark clouds of war looming, the newly appointed chief administrator needed to make the rounds to reassure the populace.
He Lingchuan clenched his fist with a sharp crack. "Alright."
He Chunhua beamed. "In a few days, I'll assign you a mission first."
***
Dreaming his way back to Panlong City, snow in the courtyard of his wood-grade house reached past his calves, pushing back against the door as He Lingchuan opened it.
He picked up a broom, swept the thick snow into a corner, and began practicing his martial arts.
Eighty percent of the gifts that had formed a small mountain were gone. What remained was arranged neatly in the kitchen, with the last two jars set beside the water vat.
This was likely Sun Fuling's handiwork. She had promised to help him donate the mountain of gratitude gifts—and if not her, then the little ghost who stole his fish and firewood had cleared it out.
He Lingchuan called out twice, but received no reply from next door. She seemed to have gone out again.
Yet whenever the wind blew, a delicate tinkling chimed. He Lingchuan peered over the courtyard wall. Sun Fuling's yard was even simpler and emptier than his own; aside from a chair and a ladder, there was nothing at all, save for a wind chime made of shells hanging beneath the eaves.
Colored seashells gathered from who-knew-where, each ground smooth and rounded, chimed pleasantly against one another whenever the wind swept through.
He Lingchuan recognized it as one of the thank-you gifts the people of Panlong City had given him. It seemed Sun Fuling had kept it for herself.
Her courtyard had an even thicker layer of snow, however; she probably hadn't been home for at least the past three or four days.
Perhaps she had another place to stay?
He Lingchuan shrugged, drew back his focus, and began training in earnest. Today's focus was the grappling cord. He had bought a coil of it in Panlong City as well; of course, it wasn't a magic artifact and wasn't nearly as handy as the one crafted by Li Fubo.
His initial goal was merely to strike branches off the large jujube tree, and to hit whichever specific branch he aimed for.
He had a hunch this thing would prove extremely useful in the future, so he needed to master it as soon as possible.
Speaking of which, the number of skills he needed to practice kept growing, and even practicing day and night felt like running out of time.
The feel of a cord was completely different from a blade or a bow. It was limp and difficult to apply force to. After just a few tries, He Lingchuan ended up with the grapple hook caught on a tree branch, unable to pull it free.
Just then, footsteps came from outside.
The footsteps halted at his gate, and immediately afterward, a letter was slipped under the courtyard door.
Then, the person walked away.
He Lingchuan picked it up and saw it was an official letter sealed with red wax.
As it turned out, the Pengcheng Office was urging him to claim his shop.
Last time, he had traded all his rewards for a commercial shop on Panlong's main thoroughfare, and then had forgotten all about it. There was still a lot of clutter inside that needed clearing before it could be rented out.
He Lingchuan had been busy, but the Pengcheng Office had no intention of letting him drag his feet. Shops along Panlong's main thoroughfare were geese that laid golden eggs, so regulation over them was quite strict.
All the shops belonged to Panlong City; he only held leasing rights. If the authorities urged him to open up soon, he had no choice but to comply.
With no other choice, He Lingchuan dug out the shop key, hailed a donkey cart, and headed for the main street.
In fact, Panlong City's main thoroughfare was laid out in a classic cross shape. The southern artery was Wanglin Avenue, which was where He Lingchuan's shop was located.
To his surprise, it wasn't tucked away at a corner at the end of the street. Though the storefront was small and its wooden doors were shut tight, pedestrians rubbed shoulders before it, making for considerable foot traffic.
With a shop opened in a place like this, anything ought to sell well, wouldn't it?
Surprisingly, a patrol guard was standing beside the door. Seeing him take out the key, the guard stepped back two paces and gestured for him to proceed.
He Lingchuan also spotted a yellow seal pasted across the door.
He had to ask the guard, "Excuse me, what's this about?"
"There are always people trying to trespass." Seeing him peel off the seal, the guard immediately said, "From now on, this shop is yours to manage."
Duty fulfilled, he spun on his heel, clocked out, and slipped away.
He Lingchuan shook his head at the guard's retreating back, unlocked the door, and pushed it open.
With a creak, the double doors swung open, unleashing a blast of dust and mildew.
He Lingchuan couldn't help coughing twice, then formed a wind-summoning hand sign to blow the dust and haze away.
He had heard this had formerly been an antique shop and general store. Walking in, he found stray odds and ends that hadn't been cleared out, crooked furniture, and a thick layer of dust everywhere.
There were several footprints on the floor, showing that someone had paid a visit not long ago—no wonder a patrol guard had been posted at the entrance.
Covering his nose and mouth with a cloth, He Lingchuan rifled through the clutter, finding not a single valuable object, just as expected.
The most expensive items in the whole place were probably the rosewood treasure cabinet and chairs tucked in the back room—likely left behind when the previous shopkeeper moved out in a rush.
Those furnishings hardly mattered; what truly counted was the storefront itself.
Just as he was looking at it in distaste, two mice squeaked and leaped down from the treasure cabinet, scurrying along the wall and tearing out of the shop.
Closed for so long, even mice had made their nests here.
They bolted so fast that they knocked over a basket. Several items inside hit the floor with a clatter.
Looking down, He Lingchuan saw several books.
Most were popular novels: two were mythic tales of the strange, while the other five were bedchamber action literature, written in bold, uninhibited prose and complete with illustrations—enough to make even someone as thick-skinned as He Lingchuan shake his head in mock indignation.
Such corrupting material couldn't be left here; he had better take it back with him.
Food and sex were primal human desires. It was hardly surprising for a general store to carry such wares; in fact, they might once have been bestsellers.
Beside them lay a map and a thin booklet.
The map depicted the eastern section of the Panlong Wasteland. The draftsmanship was crude, marking only a few main thoroughfares in the east along with several important landmarks, such as the Ghost Needle Stone Forest. It was also the first time He Lingchuan saw the overall outline of the Chipa Plateau.
This was probably something merchants traveling through the wasteland would need.
As for the thin booklet, He Lingchuan picked it up and saw the cover read Collection of a Hundred Fragrances.
He had assumed it was some pretentious drivel or melodramatic whining penned by a man of letters, but opening it proved otherwise. It was actually a comprehensive guide to edible spices, detailing their descriptions and formulas.
However, the booklet was full of wormholes. Turning the pages kicked up a cloud of dust and released an aged, musty odor. The author's signature at the end had blurred beyond recognition, leaving He Lingchuan unable to tell whose work it was.
Yet inside, illustrations accompanied the text.
Spices like cardamom and dahurian angelica, which He Lingchuan was already familiar with from his other world, were not only clearly described but paired with identification sketches. He Lingchuan could only describe the art style as purely soulful, but the author's intentions had been good.
The greatest value lay in the latter half, which detailed various blends and formulations of spices, along with their effects and culinary applications.
Wasn't this... wasn't this...? He Lingchuan's eyes sparkled as he stashed it away without hesitation.
In all fairness, an ordinary resident would have little use for such a booklet. Their everyday cooking was exceedingly simple; having salt was good enough, and soy sauce was already a bit of a luxury. No one would bother with such intricate seasonings.
But could young master He count as ordinary folk?
It seemed this general store wasn't entirely filled with rubbish; he had found at least one treasure.
Just then, the light at the entrance dimmed. Someone had walked in.
Chapter 228