"Get out! These beggars are becoming increasingly unruly. How dare they come to the southern district!"
Lin Qingyuan immediately nodded in agreement and poured the Minister another cup: "They're getting more and more outrageous. Uncle Gong, you haven't finished telling me about the imperial mausoleums. What happened afterwards?"
"Of course I secured the main construction project. Competing with me? Are they even worthy? Do you know, the Emperor's underground palace alone spans fifteen kilometers."
Lin Qingyuan gasped in amazement: "So magnificent! If you can overcome the span issue, Minister Gong, you would truly be the foremost scholar of our time! But isn't it true that building imperial mausoleums is the first thing every new emperor does after ascending the throne?"
"Naturally. Nothing matters more than life and death. The secret to immortality lies within the imperial mausoleums."
"If I may ask boldly, have you selected your burial site yet, Minister?"
Gong Xicheng fell silent.
Lin Qingyuan pretended not to notice, leaning closer and lowering his voice: "Uncle, I'm saying this because I consider you family." As he spoke, Qingyuan cautiously looked around, stood up to check all the doors and windows, then returned to his seat.
Gong Xicheng tensed up, half-sobered by now: What are you doing?
Lin Qingyuan's voice dropped even lower, his expression sincere: "Uncle, you're from Changhuai Prefecture, right? You'll surely be buried in your hometown eventually. Nephew isn't cursing you – this is important. Since your ancestral shrine is in Changhuai, why don't we think bigger and build you a divine temple there. Uncle, did you know someone is planning to move the refugees?"
Gong Xicheng was confused: "What do you mean?" What does this have to do with gods?
"Nephew heard someone has taken interest in the confluence of three mountains and two rivers in Changhuai Prefecture – an excellent feng shui location – planning to build tombs below. Nephew thinks this is trivial, but what if we built a divine temple there instead? Uncle, have you considered the matter of worship? Not from your descendants, but eternal worship from all people. Although nephew doesn't understand why worship matters, if even gods compete for it, can it be unimportant?"
Gong Xicheng was completely lost: "Nephew, speak plainly."
"Uncle, this is just nephew's immature idea. What's happening in Changhuai now? Disasters! The entire south is suffering. We can't control the whole south, but can't we make moves in Changhuai Prefecture? For example, tell the refugees there that their land has offended the divine image, that the flooding is heavenly punishment, and they only need to rebuild the divine statue to receive eternal protection from floods. Then we carve the statue in your likeness. When you pass away, you'll be buried beneath the statue – no less grand than imperial mausoleums. Isn't that right, Uncle?"
Gong Xicheng thought the boy had lost his mind.
"Uncle probably thinks I'm daydreaming, but I'm completely serious. What matters most about deities? Whether they answer prayers! Nephew has studied this – Changhuai is upstream of Jiujiang. Just dig a canal on the side, and it will protect the area from major floods for fifty years. You've been in the Ministry of Works for years, Uncle. You'll know if what I say is true. Won't the local people then believe you're the most responsive god, offering you worship for generations? Besides, even if the higher-ups find out, won't they need subordinates when they pass on? Doesn't Changhuai need a local earth god? We shouldn't only consider our official positions in this life, right? If conditions permit, we should also think about our positions in the afterlife. Securing one in advance won't hurt – this is a once-in-a-millennium opportunity."
Gong Xicheng felt slightly tempted. Canonization – who wouldn't want that? "Then—what about the original local deity?"
“The flooding occurred precisely because things weren’t handled properly, and such mismanagement creates opportunities for those below us. How could we not seize this chance?”
Gong Xicheng suddenly turned stern—“What are the odds of this plan succeeding?”
“One hundred percent! My lord, you may review the blueprints upon your return. No one has more expertise in this area than you.”
“How do we make the common people believe it?”
Lin Qingyuan spun a tale effortlessly: “The people of Changhuai have long disregarded laws and decrees.” With countless unjust cases piling up: “They’ve offended the Water Deity, who now rages and forbids the righteous River God from descending to save them. First, the people of Changhuai must kowtow every ten steps to move the Water Deity into releasing the River God to the mortal realm. Uncle, you can later observe whether the refugees plead for your descent.”
Descent? To the mortal realm! Gong Xicheng felt lightheaded, as if he’d truly become a deity, now poised to comfort his subjects. The future suddenly seemed vast and clear before him.
His mortal official career had reached its peak, offering no further prospects. But what about after death? One must always prepare for the afterlife.
“Why hesitate, Uncle? Changhuai is your homeland. By seeking welfare for your people, who could deny your righteousness? Shouldn’t the people of Changhuai remember you for generations? You’re not exploiting the locals but accumulating merit. Five hundred years from now, the imperial court may have seen multiple dynastic changes, but the divine temple will remain. Even if they forget which deity resides within, wouldn’t every passerby leave you offerings?”
Gong Xicheng envisioned the scene vividly—yes, in five centuries his grave might lack descendants, but not the temple. Even a simple village shrine would receive incense as long as it stood.
Suddenly, he felt the people of Changhuai were his people. Their hunger and cold were his hunger and cold—this was utterly intolerable! “But what about finances?” Though he had resources, they weren’t sufficient.
“Uncle, shouldn’t there be guards flanking your divine statue? Those wishing to stand closer to you ought to make contributions, no?”
Gong Xicheng’s eyes lit up. He clapped Lin Qingyuan’s shoulder heartily: “Nephew! My good nephew!”
Lin Qingyuan feigned humility: “Not at all, not at all. It’s Uncle who truly cares for the villagers.”