Chapter 234

A bit of white snow fell on He Chunhua's shoulders, and He Yue's cloak was caught with a small piece of dead branch; clearly, they had walked quite a distance. He Lingchuan waited until the two were close before asking: "Father, Second Brother, why didn't you two take a carriage back?" It was freezing cold. "Just taking a walk, consider it a rest." He Chunhua exhaled a puff of white steam. "Also to clear my head."

For an official with cultivation, his complexion was overly haggard. He Lingchuan noticed that He Yue had added a pair of dark circles under his eyes, and there were bloodshot streaks in them as well.

"What's wrong with you, kid? Did you get up in the middle of the night to steal chickens?" He accompanied the two as they walked home.

He didn't know if it was an illusion, but the two originally had an indescribable tacit understanding; He Lingchuan standing between them broke it.

"I've been auditing the account books all night for the past few nights." He Yue yawned. "I have to audit the military farms tonight, and the situation is very grim."

Both father and son were as wilted as frost-bitten eggplants; He Lingchuan, full of vigor, felt quite embarrassed.

"How grim is it?"

"The military farms in Xiazhou are distributed across five counties; the number I got is a total of eight farms." He Yue frowned. "That's too few. Father found me the original records from forty-five years ago, and it clearly records that the total number of military farms in Xiazhou was twenty!"

The look he gave his father was a bit worshipful; such hidden original data could actually be found.

He Chunhua coughed lightly: "Found someone to get it."

He did not fight battles without preparation.

He Yue saw He Lingchuan counting on his fingers and kindly clarified: "Each farm is fifty qing, which means six hundred qing have been lost over forty-five years!"

Military farms were one of the public lands, originally wasteland without owners controlled by the state, later organized by the local government for soldiers or civilians to farm, harvesting grain to supply military needs.

The He family already had experience in fighting battles and knew the principle that grain and fodder must go before the army moves; transporting grain for a thousand li meant eating seventy percent of it themselves. Now that Xiazhou had become the front line, the military farms supplying grain would certainly be valued by the authorities. Producing and sending grain from here could greatly shorten the time and save on losses during transportation.

However, more than half of Xiazhou's military farms were gone; what was the meaning of this? He Lingchuan gave an "Oh": "Encroached upon again?"

"Yes, for so many years, officials and gentry have colluded to sell the military farms as private land." He Yue rubbed his eyes. "It's another mess of accounts; I have to work hard to find them out today and tomorrow."

"They even dare to sell military farms?" He Lingchuan gave a thumbs up. "Impressive."

"The previous few state governors had borrowed from wealthy gentry and powerful clans; when the harvest was bad, the parts they couldn't pay back were offset with military farms." He Yue had been auditing accounts for the past few days, from initial shock to now only numbness. "Of course, this is only one of the reasons."

He Lingchuan saw their weary expressions but light in their eyes, and couldn't help but say: "Father, do you see anything I can do?"

"I was just about to ask you." He Chunhua looked him up and down. "You broke through again?"

"Yes."

He Yue's eyes were full of envy: "Brother, you're unreasonable. Last time the Imperial Flowing Liquid descended, you only broke through once, and now again..."

"Has there ever been fairness in this world?" He Lingchuan laughed. "My big blade has long been hungry and thirsty; next time there's a big battle, I must take the field!"

"You'll have plenty of opportunities." He Chunhua also laughed. "After I straighten out this mess in Dunyu, I want to tour Xiazhou, especially to look after the front line in the north; you come with me."

As the Xiazhou Governor, he had to inspect and straighten out the local customs, human sentiments, official governance, and public opinion everywhere in the state. Especially now that the clouds of war were looming, it was even more necessary for the new Governor to travel around to calm the hearts of the people.

He Lingchuan clenched his fist, and it crackled: "Good."

He Chunhua smiled: "In a few days, I'll assign you a task first."

￥￥￥￥￥

Dreaming back to Panlongcheng, the snow in the small courtyard of the wooden house was over his calves; He Lingchuan felt resistance even when pushing the door.

He picked up a broom, piled all the thick snow into the corner, and began to practice martial arts.

Eighty percent of the gifts that had originally piled up like a small mountain had disappeared; the remainder were neatly placed in the kitchen, and the last two jars were placed by the water vat.

This should be Sun Fuling's handiwork. She had promised to help him donate the mountain of thank-you gifts—if it wasn't her, it was the little ghosts who stole the fish and firewood who had cleared it out.

He Lingchuan called out twice, but there was no response from next door; she seemed to have gone out again.

However, whenever the wind came, there was always a delicate tinkling sound. He Lingchuan leaned over the wall to look; Sun Fuling's courtyard was even simpler and emptier than his, with nothing but a chair and a ladder, but a string of seashell wind chimes hung under the eaves.

He didn't know where she had picked up the colorful shells; each piece was polished smooth and round, and when the wind came, they knocked together, sounding exceptionally pleasant.

He Lingchuan recognized this as one of the thank-you gifts the people of Panlongcheng had given him; it seemed Sun Fuling had kept it for herself.

However, the snow in her courtyard was thicker; it seemed she hadn't been home for at least the past three or four days.

Perhaps she had another place to live? He Lingchuan shrugged, withdrew his mind, and practiced martial arts earnestly. Today's practice focus was the hook-rope; he had also bought a coil in Panlongcheng, though it wasn't a magic treasure and was not as easy to use as the one Li Fubo had crafted by hand.

The initial goal was just to hit the branches of the big jujube tree, and he had to be able to hit whichever one he aimed for.

He had a premonition that this thing would have great use in the future, and he had to practice it until he was proficient as soon as possible.

Speaking of which, the skills he had to practice were increasing, and even practicing day and night, he felt time was not enough.

The feel of the rope was completely different from a blade or a bow; it was soft and hard to exert force with. He Lingchuan had only practiced a few times when the hook head got caught on a tree fork and couldn't be pulled down.

At this moment, footsteps came from outside.

The footsteps stopped at his door, and immediately after, a letter was shoved under the courtyard gate.

Then, the person left again.

He Lingchuan picked it up and took a look; it was actually an official letter stamped with red wax.

It turned out the Pengcheng Bureau was urging him to go collect his shop.

Last time, he had traded all his rewards for a shop on the main street of Panlong, and then he had forgotten about it. There were still many sundries in the shop that needed to be cleaned out before he could rent it out.

He Lingchuan had always been busy, but the Pengcheng Bureau didn't intend to let him drag it out any longer. Shops on the main street of Panlong were golden chickens that laid eggs, so management was also very strict.

The shops all belonged to Panlongcheng; he only had the right to rent. The authorities urged him to open for business quickly, so he could only open for business quickly.

Helpless, He Lingchuan had to find the shop key, hire a donkey cart, and head toward the main street.

Actually, the main street of Panlongcheng was a standard "cross" shape; the one facing south was Wang Lin Street, which was where He Lingchuan's shop was located.

Unexpectedly, it hadn't reached the corner of the street yet; although the storefront was small and the wooden door was tightly closed, pedestrians were shoulder to shoulder in front of the door, and the traffic was considerable.

With a shop opened in such a place, everything would sell well, right? A patrol guard was actually standing by the door, and seeing him take out the key, he stepped back two steps and made a "please" gesture.

He Lingchuan also saw a yellow seal pasted on the door.

He had to ask the patrol guard: "Excuse me, what is going on?"

"People always want to break in illegally." Seeing him remove the seal, the patrol guard said immediately, "From now on, this shop is yours to manage."

The task was completed; he turned on his heels, finished his work, and flashed away.

He Lingchuan looked at his back and shook his head, unlocked the door, and pushed it open.

"Creak," the two big doors opened, and gray mold rushed toward his face.

He Lingchuan couldn't help but cough twice, pinched a wind-summoning spell, and blew the gray haze away.

It was said that this was originally an antique shop and grocery store; he walked in and took a look—there were bits and pieces everywhere that hadn't been moved, furniture was tilted, and a thick layer of dust had accumulated everywhere.

There were a few footprints on the ground; clearly, someone had visited here not long ago. No wonder a patrol guard was added to guard the door.

He Lingchuan covered his nose and mouth with a towel, flipped through things casually, and sure enough, didn't see a single valuable item.

The most expensive thing in the whole place might be the rosewood eight-treasure cabinet and chairs hidden in the inner room; the shopkeeper probably moved in a hurry and forgot them here.

These things were probably not important at all; the key was the storefront itself.

He had just been complaining when two mice jumped off the eight-treasure cabinet with a "squeak," slipped along the wall, and fled the shop in a flurry.

It had been closed for too long; even mice came to build nests.

They fled fast, but knocked over a basket. A few things inside fell to the ground with a thud.

He Lingchuan took a look; they were a few books.

Most were storybooks, two were myths and strange tales, and the other five were literature about bedroom actions, with bold and unrestrained wording and illustrations; even someone thick-skinned like He Lingchuan felt heartbroken looking at them.

Such harmful things couldn't be left behind; take them back.

Food, color, and nature—these were the great desires of man; it was not strange at all for a grocery store to sell such things; perhaps they were the best-selling items in the past.

In addition, there was a map and a thin booklet.

The map depicted the eastern part of the Panlong Wasteland; the drawing was rough, only pointing out a few main roads in the east and a few important geographical landmarks, such as the Ghost Needle Stone Forest. It was also He Lingchuan's first time seeing the full picture of the Chipa Plateau.

This was probably something that merchants traveling the wasteland would need.

As for the last thin booklet, He Lingchuan picked it up and took a look; the cover was written with "Collection of Hundred Fragrances."

He thought it was the flowery words of literati or moaning without illness, but when he opened it, it was not. This was actually a comprehensive guide to the introduction and preparation of edible spices.

However, the booklet was full of wormholes, and it had a lot of dust when flipped; combined with a musty smell of age, the author's signature at the back had already blurred and couldn't be seen clearly, so He Lingchuan didn't know whose hand it came from.

But it was illustrated with pictures and text.

For example, spices like cardamom and angelica that He Lingchuan was already familiar with in another world were not only clearly described in the booklet, but there were also pictures to teach people how to identify them. He Lingchuan could only say that this drawing skill belonged to the soul-artist level, but the author's intention was good after all.

The most valuable part was the second half, which detailed the various combinations and preparations of spices, as well as their effects and application scenarios.

This is not, this is not...? He Lingchuan's eyes shone, and he put it away without hesitation.

In all fairness, ordinary residents wouldn't find this booklet useful even if they got it; their cooking and seasoning were particularly simple—having salt was good enough, and being able to add soy sauce was a bit luxurious; it was impossible for them to engage in these complex seasonings.

But could he, Young Master He, be an ordinary person? It seemed that not everything in the grocery store was trash; at least he had found a treasure.

At this moment, the light at the door dimmed, and someone came in.

(End of chapter)