Chapter 863

Ningrong Street, Rongguo Prefecture.

Though nearing the fifteenth day of the first month, the cold wind still howled, biting and sharp; fortunately, the weather had just cleared, the sun bright and warm, softening some of the chill.

In the garden, flowers and trees stood barren, wintergreen remained lush green, low hedges trimmed neatly thrived with vitality; under the winter sun’s heat, a faint scent of greenery lingered in the air.

The winding, meandering rain corridor, with green tiles and red pillars, bright and elegant, blended seamlessly among the garden’s flora, appearing especially refined and secluded.

A few figures moved along the corridor, heading toward Rongxi Hall.

Leading the way was Third Miss Tan Chun, wearing a pink robe embroidered with blooming plum branches, slender waist swaying, posture graceful, features delicate and lovely.

Her hair, dark as ink, was coiled into an intricate bun, adorned with a few pearl flowers and a single red-jade phoenix hairpin with dangling tassels, shimmering in the sunlight, exquisitely elegant and splendid.

Over her shoulders hung a bright crimson wool cloak, billowing in the wind, vivid and dazzling, further enhancing her like delicate jade, radiating enchanting beauty.

Beside her walked the maid Shishu; behind them trailed a boy of thirteen or fourteen, dressed in a dark blue silk robe with subtle rain-patterns, his face refined, eyes darting about—it was Jia Huan.

He watched Tan Chun ahead, blinked, then quickened his steps to draw close beside her.

With a sheepish grin, he said: “Third sister, it’s still early. I rarely come to the Western Court—let me wander a bit first before going to see Third Brother Cong.”

Tan Chun stopped abruptly at these words, her eyes sharp and piercing, making Jia Huan’s heart flutter.

She frowned and said: “What scheme are you hatching now? Have you forgotten my warnings? If you dare entertain any improper thoughts again, I’ll tell Father outright.”

I don’t know if Father will beat you to death, but you’ll never set foot in the Western Court again—that’s certain. Don’t believe me? Go ahead and misbehave!”

…

Jia Huan’s scheme exposed, he looked flustered, stammering in silence—what could he say? His sister was too sharp.

Today, Tan Chun had suddenly come to say she’d take him to meet Jia Cong, so Third Brother Cong could correct his studies, fill gaps, and give him a stronger foundation before entering the Imperial Academy.

Though nervous, Jia Huan was willing to enter the Western Court—he’d hoped to sneak a look at Cai Xia.

He’d long been fond of Cai Xia; they’d grown up together, and she was beautiful and alluring. As a youth awakening to desire, he’d acted on his youthful ardor.

He’d never intended to take her as a concubine, but when Bao Yu took her into his chambers, it stirred his pride, making him obsess over her even more, almost as if bewitched.

Since Cai Xia entered Bao Yu’s quarters, he hadn’t seen her for months—even during New Year’s Eve banquet, he’d been confined to the men’s table.

Even when he entered the flower pavilion to offer wine, he’d caught sight of Cai Xia leaving her seat; memories of their past flirtations stirred, burning him inside.

Tan Chun had also forbidden him from entering the Western Court before entering the Imperial Academy, and Zhao Mama watched him like a hawk—there was no opening to exploit.

Seeing her so strict and vigilant, he couldn’t help but lose half his resolve.

He pouted and said: “Third sister, I’m your own brother—why are you so harsh with me? Always punishing me.”

“You care so much for Third Brother Cong—if you showed me even half that kindness, I’d be perfectly content.”

Tan Chun glanced at Jia Huan and said: “Can you compare yourself to Third Brother? If you had even half his ambition, I’d carry you on my back—you’d be spoiled rotten.”

Jia Huan protested: “Third sister, you always compare me to Third Brother Cong—do you even let me live? You’re clearly trying to humiliate your own brother!”

Tan Chun said: “Huan’er, know your place. I’ve explained everything—give up that foolish notion now, or you’ll only harm yourself and others.”

“The Mongols in the north are raising troops. Third Brother won’t stay idle long—he has little time at home.”

“After the fifteenth, you’ll enter the Imperial Academy. He only called you over because of Father’s favor—don’t take it lightly.”

…

Hearing this, Jia Huan felt uncertain about meeting Jia Cong, but his thoughts drifted elsewhere.

He asked: “Third sister, I heard the Mongol barbarians are coming—Third Brother Cong has great battlefield achievements, having crushed the Jurchen barbarians. Will he be sent to fight?”

“Father mentioned yesterday that Third Brother Cong is a born general, carrying the martial spirit of our ancestor, Rongguo Duke. Now that the barbarians invade the border, His Majesty will surely send him.”

“Father says if Third Brother Cong earns more merit, the Jia family will shine again. Every time he speaks of Third Brother Cong, his eyes light up—it’s almost frightening…”

Tan Chun’s expression dimmed. “I don’t know for sure, but Father is likely right. Third Brother is a master of firearms—this war won’t leave him behind.”

That day in Rongqing Hall, the sisters chatted idly; when the Nine Borders’ sudden warfare came up, Xiangyun said Third Brother would soon go to war again.

Tan Chun’s thoughts aligned with Yingchun and Daiyu’s—deep down, she didn’t want Jia Cong to risk his life, yet she knew such matters were beyond personal will.

…

Jia Huan’s eyes gleamed with longing. “Third sister, is studying really better? Becoming a warrior, sword in hand, horse beneath you—that’s true glory. Who wouldn’t fear such a man?”

Tan Chun shot him a sidelong glance. “With your lazy posture, slouching and unsteady, you can’t even ride a horse or lift a blade—how dare you dream of charging into battle?”

Jia Huan flushed. “Third sister, no one’s born a general. Even Third Brother Cong was weak as a child—he was beaten half-dead by Elder Brother. His skills were learned.”

Tan Chun’s eyes widened in anger. “How dare you mock Third Brother? You haven’t had enough of the ruler yet—now you’re asking for another beating!”

Jia Huan jumped. He knew that if he spoke of anything else—even if criticized—he’d get scolded, but mostly ignored.

But mention Third Brother Cong, and even a careless word made Tan Chun turn on him instantly—catch him out, and she’d punish him without mercy.

But whenever Jia Cong is involved, if anyone speaks carelessly, Third Sister immediately turns hostile, and if she catches a slip-up, she will punish them mercilessly.

He hurriedly said: “Third sister, I’m not slandering Third Brother Cong—I only meant to say I truly admire him. I swear by heaven and earth.”

Tan Chun sniffed. “Huan’er, don’t reach beyond your grasp. Becoming a general isn’t easy.”

“Can you charge into battle, risk your life, slay enemy commanders? Can you do any of that?”

“Don’t think just because Third Brother can, anyone can. The capital is full of noble heirs—yet only Third Brother holds the hereditary title of Marquis of Wei Yuan!”

“I advise you to stay grounded. Focus on your studies—don’t slack off or get distracted.”

“Work hard for a few years. If you pass the exams, you’ll have a foundation for life—something to rely on for whatever you do.”

Jia Huan sighed. “Fine, I’ll listen to you. If I really pass the exams, then I’ll join the army—will that satisfy you?”

Tan Chun breathed easier at his willingness to study. “Focus on your studies first. Talk of joining the army later.”

She paused, then added: “Actually, don’t even think about it. Your mother has only you as a son—if I encouraged you to enlist, she’d fly into a rage…”

Jia Huan refused to give up. “Third sister, Mother listens to you. If you say no, she’ll obey.”

“That’s filial impiety—I won’t join you in this nonsense!”

“Third sister, I’m just striving to improve…”

“Third Sister, I’m trying to improve…”

Rongguo Prefecture, Rongxi Hall, three side rooms to the east.

Bright sunlight poured through the southern lattice windows, warm and gentle, flooding the room unimpeded.

The entire room glowed with light; on the desk lay brushes, ink, paper, and inkstone, where Xiao Hong and Yu Chuan practiced calligraphy.

After several days of careful instruction from Jia Cong, their brushwork had lost its initial stiffness and now looked properly formed.

The sunlight fell on them, revealing their graceful figures clearly—quite a sight.

Jia Cong paced beside them, pointing out flaws in their strokes, offering corrections, guiding their hands—close enough for their hair to brush, the air thick with quiet intimacy.

Yu Chuan remained calm, smiling sweetly; Xiao Hong blushed uncontrollably, her nimble strokes faltering, her mind dizzy.

Every time this happened, Jin Chuan remained calm, smiling sweetly, while Xiao Hong couldn’t help blushing, her nimbleness halved, feeling dizzy and light-headed.

Early this morning, Jia Cong went to the firearms workshop outside the city; for several days, all labor and materials had been focused on producing porcelain thunder bombs and fire projectiles.

Compared to casting firearms and cannons, producing porcelain thunder bombs and fire projectiles was simpler and much faster.

With war imminent, Jia Cong divided all craftsmen into morning and night shifts, working day and night—the stockpile of porcelain thunder bombs and fire projectiles grew rapidly, impressively large.

As production accelerated, raw material consumption surged; the workshop’s inventory was nearly depleted.

Jia Cong personally went to the Ministry of Revenue to negotiate the requisition of materials, since saltpeter, sulfur, and other substances were now banned from private transport.

Only the Ministry’s Guangji Warehouse had authority to requisition and store such materials; previously, Deputy Director Liu Shilun and overseer Qian Huai handled these matters.

But now, with the Mongol threat, tens of thousands of troops gathered beyond the capital’s walls, the Nine Borders’ military stores looted, and the Nine Garrisons’ grain supplies stretched thin.

The Ministry’s grain collection duties were overwhelming—all officials and clerks worked day and night, with no spare manpower or logistics to spare.

Jia Cong feared that if Liu Shilun or Qian Huai represented him, their influence would be insufficient, causing delays in material supply—delaying the war effort.

Though Emperor Jiazhao had yet to formulate a strategy for using firearms against the Mongols, it was only a matter of time—perhaps within days.

And Jia Cong’s demonstrated mastery of firearms and troop deployment in Liaodong, crushing the Jurchens, made him the undisputed choice in court—he would lead the campaign.

According to his strategic vision, sufficient stockpiles of all types of firearms would determine victory or defeat in the coming conflict.

According to his strategic intent, he fully ensured the production and stockpiling of all types of firearms, determining the life-or-death outcome of their use in battle.