Once the brush left the paper, the Chongzhen Emperor felt lighter.
Not relieved—lighter, like someone had finally taken a sack of rotten grain off his back and handed it to someone else.
Yang He was done.
The burden had a name now, and it was no longer his.
Chief Eunuch Cao Huachun, ever perceptive, leaned closer and lowered his voice to a whisper smooth as oiled silk.
"Your Majesty, with Yang He dismissed, the post of Supreme Commander is vacant. If this position remains unfilled, the provinces will lack unified command. When suppressing bandits, officials will only point fingers and dodge responsibility."
Zhu Youjian hummed, fingers tapping the edge of the desk.
"Mmm. I know. This cannot be rushed."
His gaze drifted to the memorial stacks again, eyes narrowing. Who… who can take this seat?
Before the thought could fully form—
"Your Majesty! Great news! Tremendous news!"
A young eunuch burst in like a firecracker, nearly tripping over the threshold.
Zhu Youjian straightened immediately.
"Speak!"
"Governor Hong Chengchou of Yansui mobilized his forces and crushed the rebellion of Shen Yikui!" the eunuch rattled off in one breath. "Over ten thousand rebels slain, ninety thousand captured! Northern Shaanxi has been pacified!"
He presented the memorial with both hands, head bowed.
Zhu Youjian snatched it up, eyes flying across the page.
Then—
"Hahaha!"
The sound rang through the Imperial Study.
"My Hong!" the emperor laughed, slapping the desk. "You truly live up to my expectations!"
He stood abruptly.
"I've decided. The post of Supreme Commander—it goes to Hong Chengchou!"
And just like that—
In barely three years, Hong Chengchou had leapt from a modest fourth-rank Grain Intendant to Supreme Commander of the Three Borders, commanding military affairs across Shaanxi, Gansu, Yansui, and Ningxia.
A rocket strapped to ambition.
Fourth year of Chongzhen. Winter.
The wind in Chengcheng County cut like a blade.
Wu Shen sat inside a horse carriage, hands tucked into his sleeves, eyes sharp despite the cold. Across from him, Shi Kefa pulled his cloak tighter, peering out through the curtain.
Wu Shen frowned.
"…Strange."
"What is?" Shi Kefa asked.
Wu Shen nodded toward the street.
"It's dead winter. The wind could peel skin off a man's face. And yet—look at them."
Pedestrians passed by with steady steps, faces ruddy, shoulders relaxed. A group of children chased one another, laughter slicing through the cold air.
Wu Shen blinked.
"Children. Playing. In this weather."
Shi Kefa nodded slowly.
"Every one of them is wearing thick cotton-padded jackets."
Wu Shen's brow furrowed deeper.
"A single jacket costs five taels of silver," he muttered. "That's the price of a fine Japanese blade. Ordinary people shouldn't be able to afford that."
Shi Kefa smiled faintly.
"Elsewhere, no. But this is Chengcheng County."
Wu Shen turned sharply.
"And why should Chengcheng be different?"
Shi Kefa lifted a finger and pointed ahead.
"Look."
Wu Shen followed his gaze—and stopped.
Towering above the county town rose a colossal golden statue. It loomed higher than rooftops, higher than watchtowers, eyes cast downward as if surveying every alley and household.
Majestic. Dominating.
Unavoidable.
Wu Shen swallowed.
"…That's the Dao Xuan Tianzun you mentioned?"
"Yes." Shi Kefa's voice softened. "He watches over this land. That is why the people here prosper."
Wu Shen's expression hardened. He leaned closer, voice dropping.
"Master Shi. You are a jinshi scholar. A hereditary Jinyiwei. Don't tell me you've fallen for a cult."
Shi Kefa bristled.
"This is not a cult! Cults deceive the people and lead them astray. How can something that feeds the hungry and clothes the cold be called heretical?"
Wu Shen snorted, pointing out the window.
"Any deity without a clear lineage is suspect. Only those with established origins—like the Living Buddha Jigong—are orthodox."
Shi Kefa opened his mouth.
"Jigong? That's nonsense, where would there even be a Jig—"
He froze.
Out of the corner of his eye, a figure shuffled from an alley.
Tattered kasaya.
Broken palm-leaf fan.
Bare feet on frozen stone.
The monk grinned at them—eyes bright, utterly mischievous—then turned and vanished back into the alley.
"…What," Shi Kefa breathed, "was that?"
"Stop the carriage!" he snapped. "There—that alley!"
The whip cracked. The carriage lurched forward.
They reached the alley in moments.
Empty.
Not a footprint.
Shi Kefa's mouth hung open.
Wu Shen chuckled softly.
"Didn't I tell you? The Living Buddha Jigong exists."
Shi Kefa sat back, stunned.
They proceeded straight to the county magistrate's yamen.
Liang Shixian only received the news at the last moment and rushed out, bowing deeply.
"Master Wu! Master Shi! Your humble subordinate failed to welcome you properly—please forgive me!"
Once seated, Shi Kefa got straight to the point.
"We've come for the celestial fertilizer."
Liang Shixian smiled.
"Oh? You've tested it already?"
Shi Kefa's grin spread.
"Tested? The results are astonishing. The fields near Xi'an that escaped disaster—after applying the fertilizer, they produced a bountiful harvest."
He spoke with genuine excitement.
"The pressure on Xi'an's grain supply has eased significantly."
Liang Shixian merely nodded. As if this were obvious.
Shi Kefa continued, "That's why we're here. Farmers can't all travel to Chengcheng. We intend to open an official shop in Xi'an Prefecture to sell celestial fertilizer directly."
Liang Shixian nodded again.
"Of course. No problem."
Shi Kefa nearly clapped his hands in delight.
Then—
"But," Liang Shixian added calmly, "there is one matter."
Shi Kefa straightened.
"Please speak."
"The fertilizer increases yield," Liang Shixian said, "but by how much depends on skill, soil, and circumstance. And since it must be purchased…"
Wu Shen's eyes sharpened.
"The price cannot exceed the value of the increased grain yield," he finished. "Otherwise, the people won't buy it."
"Exactly."
Liang Shixian folded his hands.
"So—have you calculated the price?"
Silence.
Wu Shen and Shi Kefa exchanged a look.
Blank.
Utterly blank.
How much grain per mu?
How much fertilizer per mu?
Market price per picul?
Cost per catty?
Their confidence collapsed like a poorly stacked ledger.
Wu Shen hurriedly pulled out paper and brush.
Numbers flew.
Scratched out. Rewritten. Argued over.
By the time the candle burned low, both men looked as if they'd aged several years.
Shi Kefa rubbed his temples.
"…This is impossible."
Wu Shen stared at the calculations, eyes bloodshot.
"No wonder the common folk call this 'celestial.' Even pricing it requires divine help."
Across from them, Liang Shixian only smiled.
And far above Chengcheng County, the golden gaze of Dao Xuan Tianzun remained fixed—silent, patient, amused.