Chapter 147: Achieve 55% Progress on the Transmigrator Mission

…

No gardens, no water systems—replace them with utterly untechnical squares, and build even more houses?

To Zhao Ji, Zhao Yu exuded a shabby, down-at-the-heels air (had he known the term "diaosi," he would have unhesitatingly applied it to Zhao Yu).

—In Zhao Ji's view, Zhao Yu wouldn't even spend money to build himself an imperial palace; he didn't act like a noble emperor at all, and brought great shame to the imperial family.

Saving money?

Our Great Song Dynasty is vast—isn't it only right to support one emperor?

Crucially, after Cai Jing's economic reforms, the court now has no shortage of funds—at least enough to build several palaces and gardens.

Moreover, Cai Jing has repeatedly stated that the vast wealth he secured for the court was precisely so Zhao Yu would no longer lack money, and could become a glorious emperor.

If that's the case, Zhao Ji simply couldn't understand why Zhao Yu remained so stingy.

Zhao Yu naturally wouldn't explain to Zhao Ji that now, the emperor is me—if another Jingkang Humiliation ever occurred, and all the women in the family were seized by the Jurchens and forced into prostitution, and all the men imprisoned to death, it wouldn't be you, Zhao Ji, but me, Zhao Yu; at least you, Zhao Ji, would no longer bear ultimate responsibility, nor be nailed to the rack of historical shame.

'If that day ever comes, and the emperor ridiculed for a thousand years—even longer—is me, Zhao Yu.'

'So just shut up, be a carefree prince, and focus on your art. I won't provoke Fang La into rebellion, or destroy my ability to recover the Sixteen Prefectures of Yan and Yun, or my capacity to resist the Jurchen invasion, just to build a shabby palace or a shabby garden.'

Zhao Yu's idea of building more houses and no gardens or water systems aligned perfectly with Yuan Qingcheng's heart.

Yuan Qingcheng had never forgotten the miserable experience when they first crossed over—five of them crammed into a tiny room with only one large sleeping platform and a single stove that nearly cooked them alive.

And even now, countless low-ranking palace maids still lived in such terrible conditions.

So Yuan Qingcheng proposed: 'Build more two- or even three-story small buildings—larger rooms, better ventilation, ideally with running water and drainage; no stoves inside the rooms—instead, establish communal dining halls, and add more public latrines, swimming pools, large bathhouses…'

Yuan Qingcheng's suggestions, drawn from modern large-scale gated communities, received Zhao Yu's support.

Zhao Yu didn't care whether Zhao Ji, Li Jie, or others understood running water, communal dining halls, public latrines, swimming pools, or bathhouses—he knew the five women would figure it out; like King Zhou entranced by Daji, he nodded in agreement: 'Your Highness's concerns are thorough—it should be done this way.'

Zhao Ji truly wanted to quit his post! They were expanding the imperial palace, not building affordable housing—how could they do this?

An imperial palace without gardens and water systems could never be grand or noble—such a palace would have no soul; better not expand at all!

Zhao Ji knew Zhao Yu had no artistic talent, even that he was 'ignorant and uneducated,' but he never imagined Zhao Yu could be this utterly hopeless.

To be honest, seeing his year's worth of labor destroyed and defiled, Zhao Ji was barely holding himself together.

But he remembered that Zhao Si was still imprisoned at home, forbidden to leave—clearly destined to die in confinement—and his concubines had been dismissed, clearly to prevent him from leaving heirs.

Zhao Ji did not want the same fate.

So the pragmatic Zhao Ji finally abandoned his artistic pursuits and replied: 'Your servant obeys.'

…

Had he not seen it with his own eyes, Zhao Yu could never have imagined that the place historically meant to become Genyue's Your Majesty Mountain—built by Zhao Ji—had, in less than two years, become a massive agricultural research base.

There, vast fields of green rice shimmered golden under the sun, like jade brocade spread across the earth; a breeze stirred the waves of grain, revealing a bounty far beyond its time.

Further off lay a vast orchard, where fruit trees of all kinds grew vigorously, their branches heavy with ripening fruit: crabapples blushed red like a maiden's shy cheeks, pears glowed with a warm, jade-like luster, and through ingenious grafting techniques, strange new varieties bloomed in dazzling colors and bizarre shapes, overwhelming the eyes.

Beyond that stretched orderly fields and staggered greenhouse frames.

Building technology of this era had advanced significantly, with rich experience in carpentry and masonry, enabling complex structures that provided technical support for greenhouse frameworks.

Textile production in this era was also highly developed, capable of producing fabrics suitable for greenhouse coverings; though inferior to modern plastic film, they still provided some insulation and light transmission.

Moreover, agricultural techniques had made notable progress—people now understood plant growth conditions more deeply, knew how to regulate temperature and humidity to promote crop growth, and had even developed methods to use hot spring water to raise water temperatures for cultivating flowers and other crops.

Yuan Qingcheng, applying her more advanced agricultural knowledge, upgraded the era's greenhouses, giving rise to today's splendor.

It was easy to imagine that this winter, the palace would have fresh vegetables.

If they couldn't consume all the fresh vegetables, the Palace Household Department could sell them at high prices.

Surely the high officials, scholar-gentry, and wealthy families of Dongjing Bianliang would pay handsomely for these out-of-season fruits and vegetables.

And Yuan Qingcheng's specially improved fruits could be sold on the market upon harvest, yielding a hefty profit and promoting their popularity.

Thus, thanks to Yuan Qingcheng's agricultural base, the palace not only saved a fortune on food purchases, but its diet became richer—and what they couldn't eat could be sold outside for huge profits.

It was estimated that Zhao Yu's investment in Yuan Qingcheng would soon break even, even turn a profit.

He arrived at Yuan Qingcheng's residence within the agricultural base.

Zhao Yu sat on the bed in Yuan Qingcheng's boudoir, picked up one of her improved cucumbers, and bit into it.

'The taste is still far worse than in the future—Yuan Qingcheng still has work to do.'

Yuan Qingcheng, meanwhile, eagerly served Zhao Yu tea and water, prepared fruits, pastries, and snacks.

As Yuan Qingcheng passed before Zhao Yu, he grabbed her, pulling her onto his lap.

Yuan Qingcheng was shy, but didn't struggle—she and Zhao Yu had already shared far more intimate contact.

Yet as a virgin, she was naturally modest, lowering her head, her cheeks flushed crimson, unable to meet Zhao Yu's gaze.

The more she acted this way, the more Zhao Yu was drawn to her.

Zhao Yu wrapped his arms around her slender waist and leaned in to see her lowered face.

To be honest, this was the first time Zhao Yu had seen Yuan Qingcheng look so tenderly shy.

In his past life, the Yuan Qingcheng he'd seen on his phone was like a breeze across the countryside—unadorned, beautiful as a lotus rising from clear water; at all times, she radiated the gentle grace of a classical Chinese woman, her every gesture exuding elegance. Her posture was always dignified, feet arranged in a refined pointed-ding step, body slightly inclined forward, showing respect to others—this gentle dignity made her radiate unique charm wherever she appeared.

Only now did Zhao Yu realize that Yuan Qingcheng could also look like a little girl in his arms.

Yuan Qingcheng lifted her head slightly, stole a glance at Zhao Yu; in the dim light, her eyes shimmered softly as she whispered, voice sweet: 'My lord, what are you looking at?'

Zhao Yu said: 'I am looking at the immortal who has fallen into my arms.'

Zhao Yu added: 'I am thinking how favored I am by heaven—to have won such a woman, talented and beautiful, as my beloved consort.'

Yuan Qingcheng was delighted, yet replied modestly: 'I am no beauty at all—there are countless lovelier women in the palace; my lord flatters me—I dare not accept such praise.'

Zhao Yu said no more—he kissed Yuan Qingcheng's Zhu Chun.

Yuan Qingcheng did not resist; indeed, as they kissed, she gently wound one slender hand behind Zhao Yu's shoulder, cooperating with him…

…

Zhang Chun's residence.

Ye Shi Yun held Zhao Cun, Ma Xiao Jiao held Zhao Yu's third daughter Zhao Wanying; the two entered one after the other to meet Zhang Chun and Li Lin.

Seeing Ye Shi Yun and Ma Xiao Jiao come over carrying their own children, Zhang Chun asked them: "Why not let the wet nurse hold them?"

"If I always let the wet nurse hold him, my son might grow attached to her. I think I read somewhere about an emperor who was raised by his wet nurse and later married her—she was over ten years his senior." Ye Shi Yun said.

"You mean Emperor Xianzong of Ming and Consort Wan. That had special reasons. Emperor Xianzong endured great hardship in childhood and relied on Wan Zhen'er for survival; their bond was deep, hence that extraordinary, unconventional love. But that was an exception—it cannot be generalized. Our children will never have such experiences; they will grow strong-willed and unswayed by outside influences. Why are you worrying so much?" Zhang Chun said.

"Stop. I risked my life to give birth to him—I won't let some old auntie steal him away. So I'd rather tire myself out than give those wet nurses any chance." Ye Shi Yun said.

Zhang Chun shook her head, then asked Ma Xiao Jiao: "Where's Zhao Di?"

"He's too energetic, never stops fussing, so I left him with the wet nurse." Ma Xiao Jiao said.

"Aren't you afraid your son will be the young grass eaten by an old cow?" Zhang Chun teased.

"I don't care. After all, men don't lose out in such cases. If he truly likes someone older, let him try—just don't get too obsessed. But I doubt he'll fixate on one woman; after all, he carries Zhao Yu's fickle blood. How could any woman ever tame him? If such a woman truly exists, I'd respect her—even giving up a son wouldn't matter." Ma Xiao Jiao said.

"Anyway, I still have a daughter, right, Yingying?" Ma Xiao Jiao said, looking at Zhao Wanying.

That's the advantage of having many children—even if one occasionally strays from the expected path, others can still carry the mother's hopes and love forward.

Thus, Zhang Chun resolved to have even more children.

"You can't let officials light fires while forbidding commoners to light lamps at night. We've all been old cows eating young grass—how can we deny our sons the same freedom? In my view, leave it to fate—let them love freely." Li Lin said.

"That's different. Though our minds are older, our bodies are still young—how could ordinary old aunts compare?" Ye Shi Yun rebutted.

The women fell silent.

Indeed!

Their situation was too unusual—no ordinary woman could compare.

After a while, Ye Shi Yun asked Zhang Chun and Li Lin: "Are you close to giving birth?"

"I'll give birth in the next two days." Li Lin said.

"I'm nearly there too. If all goes well, Lin-jie's son will be the thirteenth, mine the fourteenth." Zhang Chun said.

Clearly, Zhang Chun wanted a son—and so did Li Lin.

Ma Xiao Jiao comforted Zhang Chun and Li Lin: "I have a feeling all five of us will give birth to sons."

"I feel the same," Zhang Chun said, boosting herself.

Li Lin asked: "Where's Qingcheng? Why hasn't she come to see you yet?"

Ye Shi Yun said: "If it were me, I wouldn't come either. If someone gave me a cold shoulder for no reason, I wouldn't care who they were—I'd fight them to the end and cut all ties. Honestly, Qingcheng's temper is already quite good."

Ma Xiao Jiao also urged Zhang Chun: "You should find a chance to sincerely apologize to Qingcheng. Otherwise, this surface harmony with hidden resentment won't last."

Li Lin spoke even more bluntly to Zhang Chun: "Last time, it was your fault, not Qingcheng's. Go apologize to her soon—or don't be surprised if we isolate you."

Seeing everyone turn on her, Zhang Chun surrendered: "Fine, fine, fine—I'll apologize properly to Qingcheng later, okay?"

Here, Zhang Chun changed the subject: "Where is she? Does anyone know where she is?"

"She's with Zhao Yu, watching cement." Ma Xiao Jiao said.

"Lately she's been spending a lot of time with Zhao Yu—do you think they're about to make it official?" Zhang Chun said.

"I think the timing's right," Li Lin said.

…

At this moment, Zhao Yu and Yuan Qing Cheng had been whispering and nuzzling for over half an hour.

Zhao Yu felt the moment was ripe, so he whispered to Yuan Qing Cheng: "My beloved, will you spend the night with me today?"

During this time, Zhao Yu had been extremely accommodating to Yuan Qing Cheng, letting her fully experience the feeling of love.

Moreover, Zhang Chun and the other three were either already mothers or about to become mothers—Ma Xiao Jiao had even given birth to two. Yuan Qing Cheng needed to catch up, or she might truly leave this circle and become a "lonely widow."

Also, Yuan Qing Cheng felt she could no longer delay—if she exhausted Zhao Yu's patience, trouble might follow. After all, Zhao Yu was an emperor who never lacked women.

Most importantly, Yuan Qing Cheng could no longer hold out.

So, Yuan Qing Cheng softly murmured, "Mm."

Seeing this, Zhao Yu lifted Yuan Qing Cheng onto the bed…

…

(End of Chapter)