After staying up all night reading about water management, Chen Jiao stepped into the Imperial Academy the next day, her eyes heavy with dark circles and sleepiness still clinging to her.
Wang Shijing suddenly leaned over, speaking in a conspiratorial whisper: “A few days ago, we bought that book The Chivalrous Deeds of Heroes, do you still have it? My copy was confiscated by my elder brother. Can I borrow yours for a look…”
Chen Jiao had already finished it and casually nodded, agreeing to lend it to him.
Having secured his beloved novel, Wang Shijing suddenly remembered something else and asked, “By the way, I heard a new performance is scheduled at Huaichun Pavilion. Do you want to go watch after classes today?”
Between reading novels and attending plays after school, it was clear just how leisurely and carefree the young master of the Right Chancellor’s household lived.
Not long ago, Chen Jiao’s life had been much the same. But now, having joined the Crown Prince’s faction, she had stepped into a more burdensome role. After classes today, she still had to rush home to continue studying those water management books and then write a related article for the Crown Prince.
As the saying went, comparison brings pain. Chen Jiao had previously thought nothing of her schedule, but seeing Wang Shijing’s freedom, she suddenly felt the inequity of her own position as the marquis’ heir.
Both were lazy, spoiled students, yet why did she have to read for the Crown Prince and write reflections while Wang Shijing could continue enjoying his carefree lifestyle?
Annoyed and harboring a small streak of mischief, Chen Jiao decided to drag her friend down with her, planning to frequently bring him along to report at the Crown Prince’s residence.
She glanced sideways at Wang Shijing, irritation in her eyes: “Why go watch a play? With that time, why not go home and read more books or write a few essays?”
Wang Shijing’s eyes went wide. “Read books?!”
He stared at her, hand reaching to pat her head. “You haven’t lost your mind, have you?”
Outsiders would describe their friendship as mischievous and inseparable—they read novels together, stood in punishment together, and wandered taverns together. Both knew the other’s nature well, neither fond of books or essays.
Yet now Chen Jiao was scolding him for not studying, and Wang Shijing began to wonder if some incident at the Crown Prince’s residence had driven her mad.
Chen Jiao waved his hand away, exasperated. “A few days ago, the Prefect of Lujiang reported the Bian River breach, a matter of great gravity. What do you think should be done about water management?”
Wang Shijing froze, astonished. “Me? I…look at it?”
Chen Jiao, fuming, rolled up her book and tapped his shoulder. “With your eyes! You’re joking, right?”
She jabbed at his chest with the book, speaking point by point: “You aspire to be a peerless hero, stealing from the rich to aid the poor, yet should you not care for the people? The Bian River has burst, villagers are displaced, homes and fields destroyed, and people are left as refugees!”
The young master shrank back, shoulders hunched, not daring to retort.
Her voice full of righteous frustration, she pressed on: “Such a serious matter—does it not concern you? Is there no fire in your chest? No sense of responsibility?!”
The fifteen-year-old Wang Shijing, though hot-blooded and dreaming of martial heroics, could only bow his head in shame.
Feeling guilty, he clasped his hands in apology: “Brother Chen, you are right. This matter must be taken seriously. I was wrong, and I have failed in my chivalry!”
“Good that you recognize your mistake.” Chen Jiao relaxed slightly, inwardly marveling at how easily he could be swayed.
She thought his father and elder brother were wise to prevent him from roaming the martial world; with his scatterbrained, naive nature, he would be easily tricked within three days of leaving home.
Chen Jiao draped an arm around Wang Shijing as they headed out, speaking gravely: “So now, we must learn how to help the people. Conveniently, my family has many books on water management. You’ll study with me…”
Wang Shijing, always obedient to her words, was deeply touched. “Brother Chen, you are so good to me!”
Chen Jiao nodded, eyes squinting. “Of course. We are like brothers with different fathers and mothers! If I don’t treat you well, who will? Remember my kindness and repay it in kind…well, no need to wait. You mentioned booking a roast duck at Yue’s Inn? Just treat me to that today.”
Wang Shijing could hardly believe it. “Brother Chen, after all I’ve done for you, you only ask for one duck?”
Chen Jiao waved him off casually. “Hey, we’re brothers! I may tease others, but I would never cheat you!”
Wang Shijing, eyes glistening, vowed to repay her kindness in the future.
Chen Jiao patted his shoulder confidently: “Stick with me, and as long as I have one bowl of rice, there’ll be a bowl for you too!”
…
Yue’s roast duck was unparalleled. The innkeeper marinated the duck overnight with a secret recipe, brushed it with sweet sauce, then roasted it over fresh pine needles. The result was succulent, fragrant, and perfectly balanced, the flavor unmatched.
After finishing the duck and bidding farewell to the still-gullible Wang Shijing, Chen Jiao returned her focus to the Treatise on Water Management that the Crown Prince had given her, pondering how to answer any related questions.
After several busy days, she had read through numerous water management texts and developed her own understanding of the Bian River breach.
The next time at the Crown Prince’s residence, when others voiced their opinions on the breach, someone deliberately called on Chen Jiao, and she calmly responded: “The Bian River is the lifeline of transport, flowing from Banzhu into the Yellow River, and then from Gusu into the Huai River…”
The Bian River had long been a backbone canal for several dynasties. However, the Yellow River’s shifting course meant that every flood season labor had to be mobilized to dredge and redirect the water, closing the Bian River mouth. Even so, silt frequently caused floods.
Despite the extensive labor invested over the years, breaches continued, and debates in court over how to manage the river never ceased.
Flooding from the Yellow River affected Yan and Yu provinces severely, yet it also brought some benefits. Thus, there had long been voices advocating “govern without governing,” allowing the river to flow freely and the people to take refuge on high ground—arguing this would prevent disaster and save on embankment repair costs.
In recent years, the floods had worsened, and simple channel narrowing and reinforcing embankments were no longer enough.
In front of the assembly, Chen Jiao stated calmly: “The root of the flooding lies in the Yellow River, not the Bian River. To resolve the floods, the Yellow River must be managed.”
It was not a perfect solution, but for a teenage student still at the Imperial Academy, correctly identifying the source of the problem was already commendable.
Others began to look at her differently. They had assumed she was merely a pampered heir, but she was evidently more competent than expected.
Even Minister Zhou, who had long been critical of Chen Jiao, raised an eyebrow in surprise.
The Crown Prince, however, remained composed. He had already received Chen Jiao’s submitted insights on water management yesterday. Though not deeply technical, her perspective was unique and worthy of praise.
He turned to Minister Zhou, his tone unreadable: “What do you think, Sir Zhou?”
Minister Zhou, the official responsible for managing the floods, though short-tempered and blunt, was a capable man.
He stepped forward, bowing respectfully: “I recommend diverting the Bian River and restoring its former course. Water from the Yellow River should be channeled at ten-mile intervals, with sluice gates installed to regulate flow. Multiple inlets controlled by gates would manage water volume, ensuring both irrigation and flood prevention.”
His explanation was structured and precise, indicating careful planning. The Crown Prince raised his eyebrows and stood: “Good.”
He asked, “How long will it take to build the sluice gates?”
Minister Zhou replied calmly: “Both manpower and resources are indispensable. If adequate, one year suffices.”
Constructing sluice gates and reconfiguring river channels required immense labor and money. With the Emperor dissatisfied and rival princes watching the Crown Prince, as a member of the Crown Prince’s faction, Zhou would inevitably face obstruction. Mobilizing hundreds of thousands of laborers alone would provide ample opportunity for opposition.
Thus, devising a method of water management was only the beginning; securing imperial support amid court politics was another challenge entirely.
“Water management is a merit for all time,” the Crown Prince said, his gaze steady, then smiling slightly. “Sir Zhou, proceed. With me in the capital, you need not worry.”
While the Crown Prince and Zhou conversed, Chen Jiao stood aside, observing silently.
Zhou glanced at her briefly, eyes unreadable.
Since water management required funding, the Crown Prince dispatched his attendants to summon Minister of Revenue, Wang Zhong’an, Wang Shijing’s father.
Normally, budgetary matters would be reported to the Emperor first, who would then inquire of the Minister of Revenue to determine costs and treasury balance before approving expenditures.
But now, the Minister of Revenue was the Wang family—unquestionably part of the Crown Prince’s faction. To prevent the Emperor’s hesitation and interference from rival princes, the Crown Prince’s inner circle chose to privately decide the needed funds first, informing Wang Zhong’an before presenting to court.
Chen Jiao initially didn’t grasp the intricacies, but when she accompanied the Crown Prince to meet Wang Zhong’an, everything became clear.
Apparently, the Ministry of Revenue was already under the Crown Prince’s control, allowing Wang Zhong’an to negotiate without fear.
With both Works and Revenue under the Crown Prince’s influence, the extent of his power was evident.
No wonder, even with the Emperor displeased and rival brothers watchful, the Crown Prince remained firmly in control, eventually ascending to the throne.
Chen Jiao, still a student at the Imperial Academy, had little role in court matters. To prevent leaks, only the Crown Prince, Minister Zhou, and Wang Zhong’an remained in the study for private discussion.
She stayed outside, quietly pondering when she could finally leave.
After Wang Zhong’an left in a hurry, the other officials had gradually departed, and Minister Zhou left shortly after.
Chen Jiao hesitated, debating whether to sneak off, but decided against it—leaving unnoticed would look bad, and her superior had no idea she had been standing there all along.
Everyone knew that overtime work needed to be visible to one’s superior. Chen Jiao resolved to wait until the Crown Prince emerged, bid him farewell, and then return home.
So she waited, bored, until Xie Xianqing appeared with an attendant, raising an eyebrow at seeing her still at the residence: “Chen Jiao, still not gone home?”
Already tired of waiting, she had counted the leaves above her head several times when she heard the Crown Prince’s words.
Perking up, she turned with a sincere expression: “Yes, I worried Your Highness might still need me, so I waited until your affairs were concluded before leaving.”
If nothing more was required, she could finally clock out and have lunch at home!
Chen Jiao had been waiting at the Crown Prince’s residence for quite some time. Xie Xianqing had initially thought she had come for a task, but seeing her eager to leave, he chuckled, realizing her intention.
He recalled glimpses through the window during his meeting with Minister Wang: the young student outside, standing, occasionally squatting in boredom, swatting leaves from branches, hastily straightening up whenever someone passed by…