Tome of Troubled Times-Chapter 692: Ice Thawed

The faint light of dawn seeped into the room, casting soft shadows. The oil lamps hanging on the walls had long since burned out, their fuel spent.

Behind the screen separating the desk from the rest area was a modest bed used by the empress to rest when she got tired from working. But now, under a thin blanket, Zhao Changhe lay on his back, with the empress dowager and the empress snuggled against him, one on each side. The three of them were tightly pressed together, their limbs intertwined, an exquisite scene full of intimacy and warmth.

Zhao Changhe remained fast asleep. He had resorted to using a dual cultivation technique by the end of last night, a measure that drained even more of his already depleted strength. The injuries he had sustained in his battle with Hidden Wind had not yet fully healed, even after days of rest. To make matters worse, he had further taxed his body by channeling water energy through his body in the secret realm. Now, he was deeply immersed in recovery, leveraging the energy from dual cultivation to mend his battered body.

He was truly exhausted, both physically and mentally. On any other day, he might have been more cautious and considerate of Vermillion Bird’s feelings, refraining from being too forward. But in the heat of the previous night, he could not be bothered. He was too tired, too overwhelmed to care about decorum. The moment had arrived, and he had seized it. He had wanted it for a long time.

So he did just that.

And as it turned out, his instincts had been right. While Vermillion Bird and Xia Chichi might have protested on the surface, deep down, they had both been prepared for this. They had chosen to follow him, after all. Was such a moment not inevitable?

In these troubled times, none of them knew whether they would see each other again once they parted ways, so why dwell on something that was bound to happen eventually?

Both women stirred awake, their eyes fluttering open as they lay nestled against his shoulders. Their gazes met, and they rolled their eyes at each other in unison.

Vermillion Bird, who had worn her mask during the earlier part of the night, had removed it at some point, as it had become inconvenient while resting against his shoulder. With her mask removed, her mature and sensual visage as Huangfu Qing was fully exposed. A bitter realization struck her: the once-intimidating mask of Venerable Vermillion Bird, revered across the world, had now been reduced to a mere bedroom prop.

Xia Chichi found the contrast intriguing. With the mask on, she was her master, the stern, fearsome Vermillion Bird. Without it, she transformed into Huangfu Qing, a graceful and dignified woman, almost embodying the archetype of a noble empress dowager. Her demeanor and aura seemed to shift effortlessly between the two roles.

The most striking difference lay in her eyes. Without the mask, the ferocity of the Vermillion Bird was gone, replaced by the radiant elegance of a flower in full bloom, like a luxurious peony. It was a look that suited the role of a dowager empress perfectly.

Unable to hold back her thoughts, Xia Chichi finally spoke. “You know, it suddenly feels like you were destined to be the empress dowager. If I had to appoint a stranger to that position, I wouldn’t be able to do it. But if there has to be someone managing the palace, it should be you.”

Huangfu Qing stopped pretending to sleep and curled her lips. “So, what, you’re saying you’re actually willing to listen to me now?”

Xia Chichi offered a sheepish smile. “I’ve always listened to you.”

“Well, that sure didn’t seem to be the case,” Huangfu Qing retorted with a cold huff. “A few days ago, you didn’t even bother to speak to me. You handled your affairs, I handled mine, and now the palace staff are whispering behind our backs, saying the empress and the empress dowager don’t get along.”

Xia Chichi pouted. “Well... I wasn’t exactly happy then.”

“And now?” Huangfu Qing asked, her tone laced with skepticism.

Xia Chichi tilted her head slightly, her cheeks flushing. “Last night... when you saw I was struggling and actually got worried enough to let him... uh, focus on you instead, I felt for a moment that you cared about me more than he does.”

Huangfu Qing: “...”

Xia Chichi: “...”

If Zhao Changhe, who was actually still asleep, were to learn that the icy master-disciple relationship had come to thaw because of something like that, he would probably be dumbfounded. Whether Huangfu Qing had intervened out of genuine concern for Chichi or to claim the spotlight for herself, no one could say—not even Huangfu Qing, who likely had not sorted it out in her own mind.

But if Chichi wanted to interpret it that way, so much the better.

Huangfu Qing finally sat up, lazily smoothing her hair. “Is it seriously only now that you realize that I care about you? Ever since I took you under my wing, all I’ve wanted was to see you thrive. There’s never been a selfish thought in my mind. But you nearly turned against me for the sake of a man! You talk more to Tang Wanzhuang than you do to me!”

Xia Chichi, her gaze momentarily fixating on the... undulating results of Huangfu Qing’s hair-smoothing motion, begrudgingly stood and began dressing, choosing to finish with her hair afterward.

“I’ve only been talking to Tang Wanzhuang more lately because she’s much more knowledgeable about how to handle the empire. Take now, for instance—what are your ideas on reclaiming regional authority, reforming the tax system, or restructuring the military? And another thing, do you even know that the treasury is empty? Even within the cult, tasks like these were managed by Aunt-Master. What exactly do you know?”

Huangfu Qing’s expression darkened with a mix of irritation and embarrassment. “I know how to beat you!”

“Please, if you’re going to fight, fight me instead!” Zhao Changhe’s voice interrupted as his eyes blinked open. Still groggy and unsure of the situation, he assumed they were about to argue again and instinctively tried to mediate.

Two simultaneous kicks landed on him from opposite sides. “You stay out of this!”

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Zhao Changhe: “...”

Xia Chichi leaped off the bed and affectionately wrapped her arm around Huangfu Qing’s. “Empress Mother, let’s have breakfast. I know you like bird’s nest and calipash[1]...”

Huangfu Qing coughed lightly. “If there’s no money in the treasury, then we should be thrifty. I’m not one to indulge in luxury, and as the empress, you should lead by example.”

“Got it...”

Zhao Changhe watched the pair leave, arm in arm, completely bewildered.

Just a few days ago, they could barely stand each other, and now they were acting like lifelong confidantes? And Huangfu Qing was lecturing Chichi in earnest, and Chichi actually listened?

Did you actually... bond over what we did last night?! If only I’d known sooner, I’d have put you two together ages ago. That feeling... damn. OK, time to wake up.

Zhao Changhe sprang out of bed, hastily washed up, and dashed off to join them for breakfast.

The meal was indeed simple: plain congee, a few side dishes, and some flatbread. As he sat down, the spread reminded him of the scenes from dramas of a crown princess making large pancakes—an endless source of good memes.

Across from each other, Xia Chichi and Huangfu Qing were sipping congee and nibbling on flatbread. They barely glanced at Zhao Changhe as he bustled over, their expressions exuding deliberate indifference.

There was no way they were going to let him enjoy himself now.

Zhao Changhe settled himself between them with the air of a family head, cleared his throat twice, and waited for attention. The palace maids around them did not even glance his way, let alone serve him. Exasperated, he got up to fetch his own congee, muttering, “So, I heard there’s no money left. What’s going on?”

Neither woman acknowledged him, their focus apparently fixed on the congee. “The congee is a bit thicker today, isn’t it?”

Frustrated, Zhao Changhe said, “If it’s about governance, I might as well ask Tang Wanzhuang. You two aren’t much help.”

At this, both women slammed their spoons onto the table, their brows arched in unison. “You dare?!”

The palace maids quickly turned away, stifling their laughter.

Zhao Changhe sat back down, picked up his bowl of congee, took a big gulp, and sighed contentedly. “Didn’t the Cui Clan send a substantial amount of money and food? How are we out already?”

Xia Chichi finally responded, albeit with a sigh, “The Cui Clan sent resources because Cui Wenjing knew we were in dire need of it. But they’ve been at war for so long that their reserves are already stretched thin. They were counting on dividing up the Wang Clan’s resources, but while the Wang Clan might have money, they likely didn’t have much grain. Weren’t you just there? How do you not know this?”

“Uh...” Zhao Changhe looked down at his porridge, suddenly sheepish. He had not paid any attention to such matters, having left them all to Cui Yuanyong. Clearly, governance was not his strong suit.

Xia Chichi continued, “When I say that we’re lacking resources, I’m not talking about money. In fact, we’ve confiscated a lot from certain clans—some were even wealthier than the imperial treasury. We haven’t even finished tallying it all.”

“That’s pretty standard,” Zhao Changhe remarked.

“It is. But the real problem is grain. You can’t eat money. After years of war and mismanagement, the land is barren, and the harvests have dwindled. Emptying even the richest treasuries won’t change that. It’s not yet time for spring planting, and the autumn harvest is far off. Our current reserves are barely enough to sustain us, let alone support a war effort. And heaven forbid there’s a disaster—we wouldn’t be able to provide relief. Honestly, I don’t want to speak ill of the late emperor, but he was a sorry excuse for a ruler. If he were still alive, by next spring, you and I would have been witnessing famine sweeping the land.”

Zhao Changhe said nothing, his expression grim.

Xia Chichi added “Even in Jiangnan, the Maitreya rebellion devastated the region. Tang Buqi is doing his best, but he doesn’t have much to spare. Tang Wanzhuang suggested buying grain from Penglai—they’ve had good harvests—but Penglai isn’t a major producer of grain. They likely won’t have enough to make a real difference.”

Zhao Changhe glanced at Huangfu Qing, whose gaze remained fixed on her congee, her eyes betraying a tinge of sorrow.

With Huangfu Qing seemingly at a loss and his own knowledge being limited, Zhao Changhe hesitated, but in the end, he gritted his teeth. “As far as I know, overseas nations cultivate a certain root vegetable called sweet potatoes. It’s hardy, high-yielding, and grows quickly. The roots serve as a staple, and even the leaves can be eaten. Perhaps Tang Buqi could explore bringing it back. While it won’t help immediately, it could be a solution for the future.”

Both women stared at him in surprise. They were at a complete loss as to how he had even gotten the idea for such a solution. They had all gone out to sea, but none of them had thought to ask about crops or seeds.

When did he even think to ask about all that?

Little did they know that the “visionary” Zhao Changhe was blushing internally. It was not some great insight. It was simply that he remembered the staple crop from every transmigration web novel he read to be sweet potatoes.

But he could not dwell on his embarrassment. It was true that sweet potatoes would not solve the current crisis. What they needed now was an immediate solution.

“As for the immediate problem,” Zhao Changhe said, forcing confidence back into his tone, “that ties directly to what I came back to discuss. We’re out of grain, but others have plenty. The Shanxi merchants are selling grain to Timur, aren’t they? Doesn’t that mean they have fairly good reserves?”

1. Calipash is the fatty, greenish, gelatinous flesh found under the upper shell of a turtle, and is considered a delicacy ☜