Chapter 581: Side Quest Revisited: The Refugees of Bianjing

Chen Jiuyan fell silent for a moment, her complexion shifting from pale to flushed; she steadied her mind and gradually dispelled the chill in her heart.

At last, she tore herself free from that dreamlike, hazy realm, yet her heart remained unsettled.

That illusion had been too real, too shattering—like she had lived it herself, dragging her back into memories of the past.

Once, she had followed her father into the deepest reaches of Dezehu, where an ancient palace lay hidden—a forbidden place known to all as the Dragon Palace.

At the center of Dezehu, there was only deathly silence, utterly devoid of life.

That day, she had seen the lord of Dezehu: a colossal creature rising from the water, its body a serpentine dragon, covered in scales, more like a divine being of the mortal world than any demon.

And just now, the dragon in the illusion matched that terrifying figure in her memory perfectly, leaving her momentarily unmoored.

Chen Jiuyan's eyes still glimmered with uncertainty, fixed intently on the young man before her, as if trying to see through him entirely.

Could anyone have depicted it unless they had personally ventured into Dezehu and seen that "Dragon"?

But then again, given your age and experience, and your distance from Bianjing, it's impossible.

Even more astonishing!

You are still underage, yet your Primordial Spirit's cultivation has already reached an extremely high level—higher than hers.

Had it not been so, how could you have escaped her illusion and pulled her into "Dezehu"?

Chen Jiuyan gazed at Xie Guan, filled with awe, confusion, and a nameless reverence quietly taking root.

The anger she had felt from losing the game had now largely faded.

Someone with such a Primordial Spirit cultivation base could not possibly be ordinary.

Those ten games of weiqi just now—you deliberately concealed your strength and won by catching me off guard.

That's not true skill!

You've clearly studied weiqi for many years, mastering its depths.

Losing to you is no surprise!

You're from the Xie Fu—do you have some connection to Xie Hong?

After all, Master once said that in Bianjing, only three and a half people merit attention.

The Second and Third Masters at the Academy, and the third is "Xie Hong" of Qingliang Temple.

The two Masters need no explanation, yet Bianjing is teeming with talent!

Why not Li family's Divine Martial Twin Pillars of the State, Sima family's "Cultivator of Righteous Qi," Sima Chunfeng, or Zhuge family's androgynous, nobly destined "Zhuge Ziqing"?

Or Zhao family's supreme swordmaster, "Zhao Jia Di"? These nine surnames have produced a generation of brilliance, otherwise they would not have crushed the Great Qi's Chen clan into utter royal insignificance.

Not the currently famed among the nine surnames, but Xie Hong—the one who, over a decade ago, grew disillusioned and withdrew.

Master once summarized him with a single verse: "In heaven's jade capital, twelve towers, five cities. Immortals pat his crown, binding his hair to receive immortality."

She had never fully understood the verse's meaning, but she remembered well that Xie Hong was mentioned alongside the two Academy Masters.

As for the remaining half person Master mentioned, it is today's Minister of Rites, known as the "Sick Tiger of Rites," Old Man Tang Ziang.

Su Yun, seeing Chen Jiuyan seemed unharmed, finally let out the heavy breath he had been holding.

He knew full well the status of this Princess of Kangle—if she truly suffered harm from losing a game, he would have no way to answer to his grandfather.

Su Yun smiled and said: "Young Master Guan, thank you for your time—we shall take our leave now."

Xie Xuan, standing nearby, looked at you with a complex expression, recalling the ten games just played.

He cleared his throat, his tone now carrying greater weight: "Ninth Brother, we shall take our leave."

Chen Jiuyan wore the demeanor of one who accepts defeat: "Losing a game is losing a game—I'll do you one favor. But beforehand, let it be clear: this favor must not violate righteousness."

"If the task is too difficult and I cannot accomplish it, then it's void."

"If you feel you're taking advantage of me as a woman, you may cancel the wager—no problem."

With that, she rose from the bed, spread her hands, and assumed a stance of "I won't be cheated."

Su Yun watched Chen Jiuyan's demeanor and couldn't help but chuckle. He remembered how this princess used to gamble with his grandfather—and always reacted this way after losing.

Faced with this, you decide…

1. Ask Chen Jiuyan to give Dong Shao's adopted son a sum of silver. (Hint: May benefit future developments.)

2. Ask Chen Jiuyan to arrange Dong Shao's funeral. (Hint: May benefit future developments.)

3. Ask Chen Jiuyan to give Dong Shao's adopted son a sum of silver and arrange his funeral. (Hint: May benefit future developments, and possibly yield unexpected rewards.)

4. Participate personally. (0/3)

Yu Ke stared at the four options, momentarily stunned.

This was again triggering the "Dong Shao" side quest.

It had already been triggered twice before: once with "Hua'an the Physician," and again with "Xie Hou'er."

Why, today, did this woman trigger a similar choice?

Every time these options appeared, it marked a fork in "Xie Guan's" life—choose carefully.

This master, who had appeared only a few times in the thirteen-year simulation of "Xie Guan."

Could this be tied to something of great importance later?

Yu Ke did not hesitate—he made his choice.

3. Ask Chen Jiuyan to give Dong Shao's adopted son a sum of silver and arrange his funeral. (Hint: May benefit future developments, and possibly yield unexpected rewards.)

After a brief pause, you said: "There is indeed one matter requiring your assistance, Young Master Yan."

You calmly recounted how Dong Shao had died drunk at home: "This Master Dong was my first teacher. Given such an unfortunate end, I naturally wish to help as much as I can."

"But I am lowly within the Xie Fu and cannot command others—so I must trouble you."

Upon hearing this, Chen Jiuyan exhaled deeply. She had feared the Xie family's bastard son might demand something difficult—if she refused, he might drag her back into "Dezehu," and she had no desire to relive that.

Chen Jiuyan agreed readily: "This is simple—I'll have someone handle it for you tomorrow."

You had Wu Tong bring fifty taels of silver.

Chen Jiuyan waved her hand: "Such a small matter—no need for you to pay."

You were about to refuse again, but Su Yun smiled: "Young Master Guan, you needn't concern yourself—this will be arranged by the Grass Hall Poetry Gathering."

"Thank you, Young Master Yun."

Hearing this, you nodded in acceptance.

The three prepared to leave; you saw them to the courtyard gate. It was afternoon, and fine snow was falling again.

Su Yun pulled his expensive fox-fur cloak tighter and sighed: "I hope the Qunfang Ban will be held under good weather."

"Young Master Guan, I'll come find you again when the Qunfang Ban arrives."

With that, Su Yun set off into the swirling snow, leading his retinue away.

Wu Tong watched their retreating figures and asked: "Young Master, who were those people?"

You smiled faintly and replied: "Our patrons."

You turned back inside to find a hundred taels of silver left on the table by Su Yun, presented as a New Year's gift for the poetry gathering.

Wu Tong was delighted.

She recalled today's expenses at the market and still felt pained—every tael spent was one less to come.

And now, just as she was dozing off, someone had delivered a pillow.

"Young Master, we should still be saving quite a bit each month."

"When you take the imperial examination, whether entering a school or socializing with fellow students, expenses will be inevitable."

Wu Tong counted on her fingers: "Young Master, after passing, you'll need to host banquets, reward the messengers who bring the news, buy a house, hire servants…"

You smiled again: "Buying a house may be impossible—Bianjing's land is worth its weight in gold. Even first-rank ministers of court mostly rent."

Wu Tong nodded in deep agreement. Even a single-compound house in Bianjing now cost more than most could dream of in lifetimes.

She shut the door. Outside, the sky had darkened; she lit the candle inside.

The dim yellow light instantly filled the room.

"Young Master, the market today was packed—couldn't even stand," Wu Tong said, sewing as she recalled.

"Lu Ya and I left early, even hired the household coachman. We thought we'd arrive before the crowds, but when we got there, the streets were overflowing."

"Especially for food, clothing, rice, oil, salt—all sold out in minutes. Luckily, we had pre-ordered from the Xie family's shop, or we might not have gotten anything today."

You sat now on the heated bed, a book in hand.

Since you broke through the Primordial Spirit's second realm, "Ding Shen," you could see clearly at night, as if in daylight.

You quietly turned the pages. These books had been brought by Xie Yuan recently—under Lu Hua's influence, most were Daoist classics.

Especially those concerning the Three True Ones.

The Three True Sect originated in the north and had already risen during the Warring States period.

It took Mount Zhongnan as its ancestral temple, revering Lu Chen as its founder, and was the most powerful sect in the world.

During the Great Yan Dynasty, it was the state religion, absorbing all Daoist lineages, recognizing the Three True Ones as orthodox, and its head was called the Celestial Master.

After Lu Chen and Lu Yu, and the Seven Sons of Zhongnan, Yang Su was designated the next Celestial Master, later changing his surname to Lu.

Lu Chen had no children, yet the Celestial Master lineage always bore the Lu surname.

Regardless of bloodline, only those of virtue and talent ascended.

In the three thousand years of history, Lu Chen's radiance had been blinding, influencing the world for over a millennium.

Through the relentless efforts of generations of Celestial Masters, the Three True Sect had long become the undisputed number-one sect.

From peddlers and laborers to imperial relatives and noble families, all had followers.

It had long surpassed mere martial sects to become a true colossus, rivaling Confucianism itself.

Confucianism and Daoism now seemed locked in rivalry.

Of course, Confucianism still had the Master—whose presence kept the world bowed—but the Master had not returned from his two-hundred-year quest for immortality in the Eastern Sea.

The world was stirring once more; the rise of Da Qi was accompanied by the shadow of the Demon Cult in the north, behind Changsheng Tian.

The Buddhist kingdom in the south had also grown strong within the past two hundred years.

You snapped back to awareness; though you did not raise your head, you still listened half-heartedly to Wu Tong's words: "Could it be because the New Year is approaching, and every household is busy preparing for the holiday?"

Wu Tong's face darkened with worry. "I heard from Manager Liu that it's because of the refugees from Jiangnan Dao. Some high officials in court have decided to bring them into Jingshi Dao."

"As a result, Bianjing's grain supply has suddenly dwindled, and the people have begun hoarding food—especially over the past few months, when grain prices have risen steadily."

You frowned slightly, sinking into thought. Da Qi had endured for a thousand years; natural disasters and human misfortunes were nothing new.

Especially in the past two hundred years, minor disasters occurred nearly every year, and a major one struck every three years.

But bringing refugees into Jingshi Dao? That had never been done before.

Remember this!

Da Qi's capital, Bianjing, lay within Jingshi Dao itself.

The refugees from Jiangnan Dao numbered thirty to forty thousand—such a massive concentration in Jingshi Dao was an enormous threat!

How could the high officials in court ignore this, especially with the Fourth Master, whose wisdom ran deep, holding court?

What could possibly be the reason?

Wu Tong continued: "I heard from Manager Liu that our Xie family had known about this long ago. Our household's grain reserves were enough to last four or five years—and now, on the outskirts of Bianjing, we've joined forces with the Zhao and Zhuge families to open multiple granaries."

"The Zhao family is the top grain merchant in Jingshi Dao. The grain they transport from Sanhu Dao via waterways is enough to feed every citizen of Bianjing."

"Waterways?"

You recalled the Yellow River's breach—this would severely disrupt grain transport, and the Nine Surnames could not possibly be unaware.

On the contrary, the Nine Surnames had already begun stockpiling grain in anticipation of crisis.

These great families cared only for their own interests; they gave not a thought to the lives of the common people.

Soon, grain prices in Bianjing would skyrocket. The court's price-stabilizing agencies, fully occupied with disaster relief, could never balance the market—leaving the Nine Surnames in full control of grain pricing.

With information hidden from the common folk, they had accumulated wealth across generations, enjoying endless splendor and riches.

As the gathering place of Da Qi's wealthiest merchants, controlling Bianjing meant controlling the kingdom's grain pricing.

"Food is the paramount necessity of the people"—this was the most critical matter of all.

Whoever controlled grain controlled the fate of the world.

Wu Tong shared this concern; as a child, her family had been too poor to feed all their siblings, and she had been sold into the Xie household.

Years had passed. The only news she received was when her eldest brother married—he sent word through a messenger. After she sent him her meager savings, she heard nothing more.

Compared to her, Wu Tong had been lucky. Her neighbor's parents, desperate to survive, had sold their daughter into Xixiang Lou—a brothel—or sent her to the army to become a camp prostitute.

The fate and interests of the world seemed unrelated to the common folk—and the hardest burden always fell upon them.

The world today had long lost the clarity and virtue of the Master's time.

Back then, the Master presided over Da Qi; whether Emperor or the Nine Surnames, all feared the single ruler's bamboo cane and dared not overstep.

Once, there had been the Second Master, who roamed the land, slaying injustice with his sword; the First Master, who loved wandering mountains and rivers; the Third Master, who taught at the Academy; and the Fourth Master, who delighted in playing chess in Bianjing's alleyways.

(End of Chapter)