After several rounds of drinks, Jiang Zhengqi noticed that Yinzhen's expression was grim, his brows slightly furrowed as if on the verge of anger.
Though he had backing from higher-ups, he wouldn't dare offend the Fourth Master even if given the boldest of courage. He lowered his head and pondered for a moment, then cast a meaningful glance at the man beside him. Raising his head, his eyes were full of fawning flattery:
"What the Beile says is right—the dikes along the underground river haven't been repaired in a long time and are indeed dangerous. Once this rain stops, I'll send men to rebuild them."
The Jiangnan region was prone to lingering rains, one storm following another. Waiting for the rain to stop could take quite a while—he just needed to fob off the Fourth Prince for now.
By then, the emperor would be far away, and who would know what really happened here except him?
At this point, Yinzhen was slightly drunk. His dark eyes fixed on Jiang Zhengqi for a long moment, staring until cold sweat dripped down the man's back. Unable to bear the gaze, Jiang lowered his head, his hands gripping his sleeves tightly, not daring to wipe the sweat away.
"Su Peisheng." Calling to the man behind him, Yinzhen was helped to his feet and led away by Su Peisheng. Jiang Zhengqi's schemes were written all over his face, as if others couldn't see them.
Yinzhen let out a soft sigh: "This man's audacity is far too great."
In the darkness, no one saw his eyes suddenly turn cold and dark. Only Su Peisheng felt the air around them grow several degrees colder.
Little did they know that in the middle of that night, a sudden downpour struck. Yinzhen was startled awake by thunder and couldn't fall back asleep, only managing to doze off as dawn approached. But not long after, he heard Su Peisheng rushing over in a panic.
"Master, something terrible has happened."
Fearing the worst, Yinzhen sat up immediately: "Is it the underground river?"
He grabbed his clothes and threw them on hastily.
Su Peisheng nodded repeatedly, following behind Yinzhen: "The rain last night was too heavy—the dikes along the underground river were completely breached, and all the nearby counties have been flooded."
Over a dozen counties, tens of thousands of lives. Yinzhen felt a heavy weight press against his chest. It was a long moment before he spoke: "How are the villagers' injuries?"
"Most of the villagers are safe—only a small number didn't make it in time…" Meeting the Fourth Master's icy gaze, Su Peisheng swallowed hard and added:
"Strangely enough, it seems someone knew the underground river would burst. They'd already set up shelters halfway up the mountain well in advance."
"Well in advance?" Yinzhen suddenly stopped in his tracks. "Did you find out who it was?"
"No." Su Peisheng hesitated guiltily, then added: "But I learned that person had been around for about a month. They tried to persuade the villagers to relocate, but no one was willing."
"A man with a good heart, then." Yinzhen nodded, then asked: "What about the Fourteenth Prince?"
Su Peisheng found it strange too—he hadn't seen any sign of the Fourteenth Prince all night. Just as Yinzhen was about to send men to look for him, an attendant of the Fourteenth Prince rushed in and dropped to his knees with a thud.
"Fourth Master, our Fourteenth Master is missing."
Yinzhen's frustration had been building since last night, and he felt a surge of anger he couldn't suppress. He strode forward two steps and kicked the man square in the chest: "What happened? How can a grown man just disappear?"
The guard was sent flying several feet but scrambled back to kneel before Yinzhen: "It… he disappeared last night."
The kneeling man didn't dare raise his head, trembling as he spoke: "L-last night, the Fourteenth Master went out, and with the crowd, we… we lost track of him."
His words were vague and evasive—clearly hiding something. Yinzhen didn't care about the details, only asking: "Have you searched all the places he usually frequents?"
"Y-yes, we have."
Even the guard felt guilty answering that. The Fourteenth Prince harbored resentment toward the Fourth Master, and as his attendants, they knew this well.
Before leaving, the Fourteenth Master had ordered them not to tell the Fourth Master, but the guard didn't dare reveal this to the Fourth Prince—fearing the Fourteenth Master would quietly punish him later, since he was, after all, the Fourteenth Master's servant.
But after searching all night without finding him, panic had set in.
"Your servant admits his guilt. Your servant deserves a thousand deaths."
If anything happened to the Fourteenth Prince, his own life would be forfeit. Yinzhen looked down at the kneeling man, his voice cold enough to freeze one's heart: "Then go find him now. If you still can't find him, the rest of you needn't bother coming back."
"Yes."
After dispatching men to search for the Fourteenth Prince, Yinzhen hurried without pause to assess the situation of the flood victims.
The counties downstream of the underground river had suffered catastrophic damage. The sudden torrential rain in the middle of the night had swallowed everything in an instant.
The rain continued for several days before stopping. The floodwaters remained as deep as before, and from time to time, bodies could be seen floating on the surface, along with houses that could no longer be found beneath the water.
"Crops, homes, people—all drowned." Jiang Zhengqi didn't dare face the Fourth Prince's wrath himself, so he sent a subordinate named Ma Yan instead.
A minor official of the fifth rank, but Yinzhen had heard of him—upright and incorruptible in his service.
"How many more will be left homeless." The heaviness in his chest refused to clear no matter how he sighed. He looked worriedly at the thin gruel before him: "I don't know how many more days the grain supplies will last."
The moment the disaster struck, Yinzhen had pressured Jiang Zhengqi and the others to gather grain, yet grain prices had skyrocketed overnight.
With tens of thousands of mouths to feed each day, even though a memorial had already been submitted to the court, even if funds were approved immediately and rushed over by swift horses, it would still take half a month to arrive.
"Five days," Ma Yan said, his gaze vacant. "Five days from now, the granary will be empty, and these refugees…"
He had read countless reports of refugee uprisings in past years. These people who suddenly lost everything—empty-handed and stripped of all they had, they were the most terrifying when provoked.
"Is there… any way?" Even as Yinzhen spoke the words, he knew they were pointless. What other solution could there be besides a massive supply of grain?
Ma Yan's lips parted slightly, then closed again. He turned his head to look at the disaster-stricken refugee quarter.
It was only after a long pause that he steeled himself and stepped forward two paces, testing the waters: "Has Your Excellency the Beile heard of the Lady of the Song family in Ping'an County?"
He was an honest man, but at this moment, something seemed to cross his mind, and a deep flush spread across his face. Yinzhen's mind was entirely on the grain, so he didn't notice. When Ma Yan brought it up, he merely nodded.
"I've heard a thing or two." He had originally planned to bring her into his Beile mansion, but now he was curious: "Why do you bring her up at this time?"
"The Lady of the Song family sells her flowers for a thousand gold per pot. Over the past half year, she's sold quite a number of them, accumulating no small sum."
Ma Yan was perhaps nervous, his voice low—fortunately, Yinzhen was standing close enough to hear.
"You mean to have her raise funds?" Yinzhen's brows knitted together. Was there no one wealthy left in Jiangnan? Why should a fragile woman be the one to raise money?
"I—that's not what I mean." Ma Yan let out a heavy sigh. "Grain prices are soaring. Even if we raised the money, we couldn't buy much grain."
"This Lady of the Song family is quite shrewd, it seems. She stored up a good amount early on." He cautiously lifted his eyes and added, "If that flower money were converted into grain, it would likely be no small quantity."
"You mean she has grain?" Yinzhen was first delighted, then hesitant. He had still planned to take her into his Beile mansion—now he was asking her to give up her grain. He wasn't sure if she'd be willing.
"But…"
"Your subordinate takes his leave." Ma Yan's face could no longer hold its composure. He bowed slightly and walked away.
Leaving Yinzhen alone, staring at the refugee-filled area, pondering: "The Lady of the Song family?"
Ping'an County was near the upper reaches of the Dark River. It had been spared from the disaster, still with wisps of cooking smoke rising, tranquil and secluded.
But a careful observer would notice that most households had shut their doors tight, and in the quiet alleys, there were always a few figures wandering about.
Ragged clothes, hollow eyes. One glance was enough to tell they were villagers displaced by the Dark River disaster.
On the other side, Song Xilou carried a bamboo basket on her back, gathering herbs at the foot of the mountain with Dongya. Every now and then, spotting a pretty wildflower, she would crouch down and dig it up to take home.
Song Xilou swung her little hoe with effort, digging up medicinal herbs, while Dongya had long been distracted by a small rabbit off to the side.
Turning back to see her mistress still digging, her eyes darted cleverly, and she quietly slipped away to chase the rabbit.
"Little thing, you're so small, but I didn't expect you to run so fast!"
Rolling up her sleeves, Dongya lunged at it—but the rabbit had already noticed, and with a whoosh, it vanished in an instant.
Dongya only felt herself trip over a rock, her whole body going numb for a good while before she recovered.
"Little wretch, just you wait—when I catch you, I'll skin you…" Pointing at the direction where it had long disappeared, Dongya fumed and swore.
She brushed the dirt off her clothes, bracing one hand on the rock that had tripped her—but the feel beneath her hand wasn't like a rock at all?
Pushing aside the grass to look, a scream immediately rang out:
"Ah——"
By the time Song Xilou rushed over, she had curled herself into a ball, her body trembling slightly.
"Dongya, what's wrong?"
Dongya looked up, and seeing it was her mistress, her face immediately twisted into a pitiful expression. She pointed timidly at the grass, her voice shaking and quavering:
"Mistress, there's—there's a dead person in the grass."
"A dead person?" Song Xilou's brows furrowed. "How could there be a dead person here?"
Carefully using her little hoe to part the grass in front of her, Song Xilou cautiously stepped forward to look. There was indeed a person lying in the grass, dressed in black clothes and black trousers, curled up so that his face couldn't be seen.
It really did look like a dead person.
"Um… are you alright?" Song Xilou didn't dare approach, calling out from where she stood.
After getting no response for a long time, she picked up her little hoe and gently poked at the curled-up figure.
"Don't blame me—I just want to see if you're still alive." That's what she said, but her hand with the hoe didn't hesitate. With a firm shove, the curled person turned his head around.
Phoenix eyes, thin lips.
Wasn't this the lofty Fourth Prince? Song Xilou knew him all too well—she could recognize him from the back of his head alone.
But Dongya hid behind her, terrified, pointing at him with a trembling voice: "Mistress, is the man dead?"
Only then did Song Xilou notice that blood was still flowing from Yinzhen's chest, and his lips had gone pale.
This… Dongliu had really gone too far this time.