PCA Chapter 129

Su Cen drifted in and out of sleep for an unknown amount of time. His last memory was of a rope being lowered down the cliffside. With the last ounce of his strength, he tied the rope around his waist, half-conscious and wondering where Li Shi had found such young helpers.

 

When he woke again, it was midnight. The sound of dripping water echoed around him—it seemed the rain hadn’t stopped—but his body was dry now. Nearby, faint firelight flickered, and voices murmured around him. Yet, as if his mind had lost its ability to process language, he could hear them speaking but couldn’t make sense of their words.

 

An elderly man slowly approached him, supported by a child at his side. Seeing Su Cen’s dazed expression, the old man instructed the child, “Huzi, bring a bowl of water.”

 

Only after drinking the water did Su Cen manage to catch his breath and move his neck slightly to take in his surroundings. He appeared to be in a cave crowded with dozens of people—men and women, young and old—huddled behind the fire and cautiously observing him.

 

The elderly man remained beside him, seemingly the leader of this group. Clearing his throat, Su Cen attempted to engage him.

 

“Was it you who saved me?”

 

The old man sat down on a rock and pulled out a tobacco pipe from his waistband. After knocking out the old tobacco leaves against the stone wall and refilling it with fresh ones, he handed it to Huzi to light by the fire. Turning back to Su Cen, he replied, “It was Huzi and Er Ya who found you.”

 

Huzi returned with the lit pipe and handed it to the old man before making a playful face at Su Cen.

 

Su Cen forced a smile and said sincerely, “Thank you.”

 

Huzi seemed unused to such formal gratitude; his face turned red as he hid behind the old man.

 

The elder then asked, “Who are you? How did you end up falling there?”

 

Su Cen struggled to sit up against the stone wall, coughing twice as pain flared in his chest. “My surname is Li; my given name is Xu. I’m a tea merchant from Suzhou. I was transporting tea to Qingzhou when I encountered a landslide and was swept off the mountain path.”

 

He wasn’t deliberately hiding his identity but judged these people to be simple villagers who likely hadn’t encountered government officials before. Revealing his true identity might make them uneasy; lowering himself as a merchant seemed more practical for blending in.

 

Given his current condition, he estimated it would take several days before he could move again—he’d have to rely on these people for care.

 

Su Cen asked the elder, “How should I address you?”

 

The old man took a puff from his pipe, exhaling smoke as he replied between breaths: “My surname is Cao; you can call me Uncle Cao.”

 

Su Cen paused slightly in surprise. “Are you from Cao Village?”

 

“You’ve heard of our village?” Uncle Cao’s smile was faint and bitter as he sighed heavily between puffs of smoke. “But Cao Village no longer exists.”

 

Su Cen recalled seeing that flooded village at the foot of the mountain—the one submerged so deeply only rooftops remained visible. Though he couldn’t fully empathize with their loss, he offered words of comfort: “Natural disasters are merciless; my condolences.”

 

“It’s not just natural disasters—it’s man-made!” A voice suddenly erupted from behind the fire.

 

Su Cen turned toward the speaker and saw faces once cautious now filled with anger and hostility as they glared at him like he was responsible for their village’s destruction.

 

Frowning slightly, Su Cen looked back at Uncle Cao: “What do you mean by that?”

 

Uncle Cao shot an angry glare at the crowd before explaining: “You’re an outsider; it’s fine if I tell you. This flood was partly caused by natural disaster but mostly by human interference—someone forcibly altered the river’s course, cutting off its flow and causing this breach.”

 

“What?! There’s such a thing?” Su Cen exclaimed in shock. He straightened up instinctively but triggered sharp pain in his chest that made him cough uncontrollably again.

 

Uncle Cao gazed at the sparse rain outside the cave entrance and sighed deeply: “At our village entrance flows Nanqing River—a tributary of Huai River upstream from Xuzhou. Normally its waters merge into Huai River before passing through Xuzhou on their way to the sea without issue. But someone decided Nanqing River added too much strain on Xuzhou’s embankments and forcibly redirected its flow elsewhere.”

 

“There used to be an old river channel that could bypass Huai River entirely,” Uncle Cao continued bitterly. “But that channel has been abandoned for years; its downstream section is blocked completely. With half a month of continuous rainfall pouring into this blocked channel… how could it not breach?”

 

Uncle Cao coughed harshly after inhaling smoke too quickly; tears welled in his reddened eyes from irritation.

 

Su Cen felt as though something had clenched tightly around his heart—a suffocating pain that made breathing difficult as he asked gravely: “Who ordered this river diversion?”

 

“Who else but Xuzhou’s governor!” Another voice shouted angrily from behind the fire.

 

This time even Uncle Cao couldn’t silence them; curses erupted from all sides as villagers vented their fury toward Xuzhou’s governor—some even spat on the ground while others wished they could drag out all eighteen generations of his ancestors for posthumous punishment.

 

Su Cen vaguely remembered Xuzhou’s governor—Liang Fang—a scholar who rose during Yonglong reign years ago. He’d gained fame for defying corrupt officials despite suffering imprisonment for it before being vindicated and reassigned as Xuzhou’s governor.

 

How ironic that someone once unyielding against power now disregarded the lives under his rule—forcing river diversions that left countless people homeless and destitute.

 

As Su Cen looked at those faces illuminated by firelight—faces filled with hatred so deep they seemed ready to drink blood or devour flesh—a chilling realization struck him: “So… are you planning… rebellion?”

 

The voices rose one after another.

 

“We’re just going to Xuzhou City to demand an explanation!”

 

“Exactly! That corrupt official must give us an account!”

 

“If he dares ignore us, we’ll go to the capital and file a complaint with the Emperor himself!”

 

Su Cen looked at these people and couldn’t help but smile bitterly. “Do you not know? Xuzhou City is already flooded.”

 

The villagers of Cao Village froze in place.

 

Uncle Cao stared at Su Cen in disbelief. “What did you say? Xuzhou City… flooded?”

 

“It’s because after Nanqing River breached, the accumulated floodwaters poured into Huai River, overwhelming the embankments and submerging the city.”

 

Cause and effect—actions have consequences. If Nanqing River hadn’t been forcibly redirected, perhaps today’s disaster could have been avoided.

 

The expressions on their faces shifted from anger to bewilderment. Su Cen understood the feeling of having one’s sustaining belief suddenly collapse. Their homes were gone, and even the place where they could seek justice had vanished. What were they supposed to do now? What could they possibly do? Where was there left for them to go?

 

Someone began to cry softly.

 

Uncle Cao silently smoked his pipe, staring out at the rain curtain without saying a word.

 

—

 

Xuzhou City

 

Li Shi had just returned to the imperial lodge after inspecting the disaster victims’ resettlement with Qi Lin when he was informed that someone named Qu Ling’er had arrived and insisted on meeting him.

 

Li Shi’s brow furrowed slightly. “Bring him in.”

 

Qu Ling’er was brought in alone, looking utterly haggard. His forehead was swollen, and his peach blossom-shaped eyes were red and puffy from crying. The moment he saw Li Shi and Qi Lin, his tears welled up again, and within seconds, two streams of clear tears rolled down his cheeks.

 

Li Shi frowned deeply and barked coldly, “Speak.”

 

Qu Ling’er sobbed uncontrollably, choking out his words between gasps: “Brother Su… is gone…”

 

Li Shi stood motionless, neither speaking nor moving. His cold, abyss-like eyes became shrouded in a dense mist, dark and terrifying.

 

The atmosphere around them grew eerily quiet—as if even the sound of wind and insects had vanished. Qu Ling’er gradually stopped crying under the oppressive silence, cautiously watching Li Shi, waiting for him to either question or rage. Yet nothing came—not even a single inquiry like “How did he die?”

 

A messenger arrived outside the door, reporting that Xuzhou’s local gentry wished to meet with Prince Ning.

 

Li Shi nodded slightly and walked away without looking back.

 

Qu Ling’er suddenly felt indignant on behalf of his Brother Su—traveling thousands of miles without rest, losing his life halfway through—and yet this man didn’t even offer a word of concern!

 

Qu Ling’er turned around and shouted at Li Shi’s retreating figure: “Brother Su is dead!”

 

The man didn’t pause for even a moment—not a single step faltered—until his silhouette disappeared entirely around the corner of the hall, detached as though it had nothing to do with him.

 

Qu Ling’er trembled with rage. His Brother Su—his best Brother Su—had died for this man. It wasn’t worth it!

 

Only when his shaking body was slowly enveloped in a warm embrace did all his hardness, anger, and grievances melt away. Qu Ling’er finally stopped trembling and instead broke down into loud sobs.

 

He had raced madly along the road all this way, afraid that if he stopped even for a moment, his thoughts would spiral out of control. Now completely exhausted, he could no longer hold himself together.

 

“Brother Su is gone… He’s dead… He died saving me…” Qu Ling’er cried hysterically. “I have no home anymore… Brother Su isn’t coming back…”

 

Qi Lin held Qu Ling’er tightly in his arms, letting the tears and snot soak his front without complaint. He kissed the swollen red bump on Qu Ling’er’s forehead, silently grateful that at least he was safe.

 

After calming Qu Ling’er down and watching him cry himself to sleep in hiccupping sobs, Qi Lin finally stepped out to find Li Shi.

 

He knew that the Prince rarely showed his emotions, but today’s unusual calmness felt off. Qi Lin couldn’t tell whether the Prince had simply mastered his composure or genuinely believed that mourning the dead was futile and dwelling on it served no purpose.

 

When he found him, Li Shi was chatting cheerfully with a group of local gentry under the glow of lanterns.

 

The gentry had come to thank Prince Ning for saving Xuzhou’s citizens from disaster. They had even composed a couplet praising his deeds:

 

Upper Line: With courage and heart, saving lives, brilliance shines like sun and moon.

 

Lower Line: Strengthening unity, supporting the nation, virtue carries through ages.

 

Li Shi was delighted and graciously contributed his own calligraphy for the horizontal inscription. His brushstrokes were bold and fluid, each stroke as precise as a dragon’s flight. The four characters read:

 

“Shared Weal and Woe”

 

It was a scene of harmony and celebration between ruler and people.

 

Yet Qi Lin felt an inexplicable unease. This wasn’t normal—far too abnormal. The Prince was reserved in his emotions but never one to feign joy for appearances. Even if he were indifferent to Su Cen’s death, he wouldn’t have dismissed it so quickly.

 

The gentry spent half an hour expressing their gratitude before finally departing. As they left, the smile in Li Shi’s eyes gradually faded, replaced by a chilling coldness that froze Qi Lin to his core.

 

Qi Lin stepped forward. “Your Highness…”

 

Li Shi rose from his seat. “Check the disaster victims’ tents outside the lodge again. The night dew is heavy—make sure nothing goes wrong.”

 

“Your Highness,” Qi Lin hesitated for once, “you should rest first.”

 

Li Shi waved him off and slowly walked out from behind the table. After taking just two steps, he suddenly faltered—and coughed up a mouthful of black blood.

 

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