Cheng Yang looked at the man in front of him helplessly.
After more than a year of knowing him, he no longer needed to guess who this man really was, the future Emperor Xue Ye, now still just the crown prince.
Ever since buying a kerosene lamp from him, Xue Ye had been visiting far too often.
Half of Cheng Yang's reputation as "the Great Sage of Heaven Dou" had come from the prince's constant praise.
"Brother Cheng! Still as calm as ever, I see," Xue Ye greeted cheerfully as he walked in without waiting for an invitation.
"Surely the Great Sage won't mind a small intrusion from this little prince?"
He sat himself at the tea table like it was his own home and began brewing tea without a hint of hesitation.
From upstairs, a lazy voice called out.
"He's here again? Didn't he just come last week?"
Bing Di leaned on the railing, her long green hair spilling over her shoulders as she yawned.
"Good morning, Your Highness. The food's in the kitchen as usual."
The Ice Emperor had no respect for royalty, and as a soul beast, she saw no reason she should.
"I'm not here for food this time," Xue Ye protested, even as he poured himself tea.
Cheng Yang chuckled.
"Then go on, what is it this time? If it's about soap, mirrors, or spinning wheels again, save your breath. I'm not selling any."
He gestured for Bing Di to come down and sit beside him.
She did so, reluctantly, plopping onto a stool and stealing one of his snacks.
Xue Ye set down his cup and straightened slightly.
"This isn't a personal visit, Brother Cheng. I've come for disaster relief. The regions north of Jialing Pass are suffering from severe drought. And after the drought, locusts. Entire farmlands are barren. People are starving."
He paused, watching Cheng Yang's reaction carefully.
"I know my brother has always had the world in mind. I hoped you might"
"Stop, stop," Cheng Yang cut him off, waving a hand.
"No need to flatter me. I'm not heartless. But disaster relief costs money."
He rummaged through a stack of notes on his desk and pulled one out.
"Here. A plan for resettling the victims, and methods for planting crops with short growth cycles, potatoes, sweet potatoes, and radishes. Fastest maturity in two and a half months. They'll grow almost anywhere."
He signed the note with a flourish and handed it over.
"Take this. Go to my city warehouse and withdraw ten million gold soul coins. Then send men to the outer warehouse and collect all the potatoes I set aside for alcohol distillation. I was planning to experiment with fuel substitutes, but" he sighed, "looks like you win this time."
For a moment, Xue Ye just stared at him, speechless.
"Brother Cheng… did you already predict the drought?"
Cheng Yang raised a brow.
"Of course not. I just looked at the clouds and guessed it wouldn't rain tomorrow. Predicting Famine? That's beyond me." He smirked.
"Your farming system's fragile. You should always prepare for the worst before it rains."
"Prepare for the rain…" Xue Ye murmured, rolling the phrase on his tongue.
Another one of Cheng Yang's strange sayings.
Every time he visited, the man dropped some mysterious proverb that sounded simple but hit deeply.
"Oh, and when you're out there," Cheng Yang continued, "send a few of your farmers here for training. My crops aren't like yours; your officials will ruin them if left alone. And take the oil press stock too. If you still have locusts, fry them."
Bing Di wrinkled her nose.
"You and your weird human food."
"They're high in protein," Cheng Yang said matter-of-factly.
"Crispy, too. Once you get past the idea, they taste fine. Tell the villagers if they can't fry them, roast them. Just don't boil them. Trust me, the taste," he shuddered, "is beyond salvation."
Xue Ye stood and bowed deeply.
"Brother Cheng, your help will not be forgotten. The Empire owes you yet another debt. I'll handle the arrangements immediately."
"Yeah, yeah," Cheng Yang said, waving him off.
"Just make sure the food reaches the people. Don't let your officials pocket it."
As Xue Ye left, the sound of the door closing echoed through the small workshop.
The room quieted, broken only by the faint whistle of boiling water.
Bing Di glanced sideways at Cheng Yang, her eyes soft despite her usual coldness.
"You're really going to give all that away? Ten million soul coins and your alcohol stock?"
Cheng Yang leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
"Money can always be earned again. But people are dying? That's harder to fix."
Bing Di said nothing. She just smiled faintly and reached for another snack.
"Still," he muttered, "if the prince keeps showing up like this, I'll have to start charging him rent."
Bing Di laughed, light and genuine.
When Xue Ye's carriage finally disappeared down the street, silence settled over the workshop.
Bing Di leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, eyes flashing with irritation.
"Why do you even care about those people?" she snapped.
"We're soul beasts, not humans! The more of them survive, the more they'll come to hunt us. Wouldn't it be better if they just… starved?"
She jabbed a finger toward him.
"And ten million gold soul coins! Do you even know how much that is? You just gave it away! I finally understand why you once said humans lose their minds over a piece of paper!"
Cheng Yang chuckled softly.
He knew her well enough to defuse her anger the right way.
Without a word, he went to the artificial refrigerator and took out a plate of chilled fruit, her favorite, and slid it in front of her.
"Eat first," he said with a smile.
"Then complain."
Bing Di gave him a glare but picked up a slice anyway, biting into it with a satisfying crunch.
Cheng Yang leaned back, his voice calm but serious.
"Those who don't think about the bigger picture won't last long, Bing Di. I know what really bothers you isn't the people, it's the ten million."
He paused, then continued.
"You've lived among humans long enough. Haven't you noticed how deep the divide is? The gap between ordinary people and spirit masters is as wide as the one between humans and soul beasts."
Bing Di frowned but listened.
"The ones starving out there aren't spirit masters," Cheng Yang said.
"They're just ordinary people. Weak. Helpless. Easily forgotten. Saving them doesn't change the strength of the empire; it changes the heart of the world."
He took a sip of tea, his tone softening.
"Do you know why I sent the farmers from our plantations to the disaster zones? Because their uniforms all bear our workshop's symbol. They'll walk into those ruined villages like blue-clad angels, people from the same soil, sharing food, teaching how to plant, eating the same thin porridge side by side with the hungry."
He looked toward the window, his eyes distant, almost dreaming.
"And while they do, they'll tell simple stories. Stories of a world where farmers own their land, where every family has a home, where the old are cared for, and every child can learn. Those stories will take root, just like the crops."
He turned back to her.
"The victims won't remember the Empire's name. They'll remember the faces of the people who came in blue uniforms, with our symbol. They'll become the foundation for what comes next. When the time is right, I'll lead them to raise the banner of reason, not faith, to replace the grace of gods with the light of science."
By the time he finished, Bing Di had cleaned the plate of fruit. She blinked, trying to follow everything he'd said.
"I don't really understand half of that," she admitted, licking a drop of juice from her fingers.
"But you're saying saving them means more fun later, right? More interesting things to come?"
Cheng Yang smiled faintly. Images flashed in his mind, molten steel pouring from a furnace, casting light across the dark world; the rhythm of machines shaping a new age.
"Yes," he said, voice steady.
"Much more interesting."
Bing Di tilted her head.
"Then fine. But next time, I'm not sharing my fruit."
Cheng Yang laughed, the sound echoing warmly through the workshop.
"Deal."
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