Not long after the news of Noble Consort Wu’s pregnancy spread, Emperor Tai’an summoned Qi Shuo again and appointed him to serve in the Ministry of Justice.

When the officials and nobles learned of this, they completely abandoned those thoughts.

The Heir of Prince Jing had rendered great merit in the war against Northern Qi—these were genuine military accomplishments. Yet he’d been sent to the Ministry of Justice to serve as a civil official.

They said the Heir of Prince Jing had a meticulous mind and possessed extraordinary skill in portraiture, making him particularly suited to serve in the Ministry of Justice.

His Majesty’s intention was too obvious—he was using the Heir of Prince Jing’s appointment to tell the assembled ministers not to propose any adoption schemes.

The matter of the heir apparent temporarily ceased being controversial, and the major problem of the depleted national treasury was once again laid before sovereign and ministers.

Compensation for fallen soldiers, reconstruction of damaged dwellings, resettlement of refugees—and even more critically, the hostilities had spanned winter and spring. Those areas affected had missed spring plowing, making the subsequent hardships all too imaginable.

The court was as lively as a marketplace, mainly arguing over tax increases. The assembled ministers’ thinking was that without money, they certainly had to address tax revenue—they only disputed the methods and intensity of collection.

Emperor Tai’an had kept a somber face throughout without making a sound.

After the war, the common people had suffered most. To squeeze more silver from them was absolutely not a long-term strategy.

Could there be no path to revenue generation that would benefit both state and people?

Finally, Right Vice Minister of Revenue Zheng Laisheng stepped forward: “The other day, this minister happened to enter a foreign goods shop and saw that those foreign goods were quite valuable. When conversing with the shopkeeper, I heard him mention in passing that our Great Zhou’s silk, porcelain, and other items are equally luxury goods in overseas nations…”

Vice Minister Zheng didn’t directly state his revenue generation proposal, yet he piqued Emperor Tai’an’s interest.

“…According to this minister’s understanding, over these years quite a few merchants have been active at sea, reaping enormous profits through overseas trade. Now that Great Zhou urgently needs revenue generation, why not establish official merchant fleets and fill the national coffers through trade with overseas nations?”

“Is Vice Minister Zheng suggesting lifting the maritime ban?” The Minister of Rites asked with furrowed brow.

Vice Minister Zheng coughed and didn’t answer directly.

The maritime ban dated from the Grand Ancestor’s time. Later, when Emperor Pingle ascended the throne and sat on the dragon throne for two years before the current emperor replaced him, there had actually never been a clear stance regarding the maritime ban.

Profit drives people to take risks. Under the court’s vague attitude, both maritime merchants engaged in sea trade and pirates conducting lawless business had shown increasingly active momentum.

This contained enormous wealth. If the court could claim a share, why worry about the treasury having no funds?

Vice Minister Zheng had thrown out a brick to attract jade. The reminded ministers included those who agreed and those who opposed, engaging in fierce discussion around whether the government should undertake maritime trade.

Emperor Tai’an watched as the Minister of Revenue, in his excitement, sprayed spittle onto the Minister of Rites’ face, while the Minister of Rites “accidentally” plucked several whiskers from the Minister of Revenue’s beard.

The scene was unbearable to watch for a moment, yet behind Emperor Tai’an’s stern expression, there was amusement in his eyes.

Going to earn overseas silver to fill the national coffers and use it for the people’s benefit was indeed an excellent method.

However, the court had understood very little about maritime trade over the years. The territorial divisions at sea, navigation routes, and the current situations of overseas nations—they were completely in the dark about all of it.

But having found a money-making path, these difficulties could gradually be overcome. The first problem to solve was some ministers’ conservative thinking.

Emperor Tai’an was anxious in his heart, but on the surface could only maintain composure, first letting these old fellows wage verbal warfare for some days before proceeding.

Changing a policy was never that easy, even if the original intention was good and the results would also be good.

The court’s discussions about opening the seas gradually spread. Some merchants and aristocratic families caught wind and mobilized, each using their abilities to gather information.

None of this had much impact on Prince Jing’s residence. Prince Jing attended court on schedule, Qi Shuo reported to the ministry on schedule, and Lin Hao began busying herself with establishing the school.

From selecting the school’s location to hiring reliable teachers, and even the silver and manpower needed to satisfy a school’s normal operation—everything required careful consideration. Lin Hao was kept constantly busy, while the young Princess Qi Qiong also participated enthusiastically.

Whenever Princess Consort Jing heard that the heir’s wife and the princess had gone out again, her expression became somewhat distorted.

She’d been counting on her daughter-in-law to help share some household duties. She never imagined that not only would she run out every day, but she’d even lured away her daughter.

This day, hearing that the heir’s wife and the princess hadn’t gone out, Princess Consort Jing found it rather novel. She dispatched a maid to invite the two over for conversation.

Qi Qiong arrived first. “Mother Consort, what did you need me for?”

Princess Consort Jing’s face darkened slightly. “Can’t I summon you if there’s nothing particular? Every day you pay respects first thing in the morning then run out, not even noticing you’ve been tanned to charcoal.”

“Have I?” Qi Qiong hastily pulled a palm-sized glass mirror from her sleeve and examined herself carefully. “I do seem a bit darker.”

“Then why don’t you honestly stay home?”

Qi Qiong flashed Princess Consort Jing a placating smile. “I may be a bit darker, but Elder Sister-in-law and I are busy with proper business.”

“Speaking of which, what exactly are you two busy with?” Princess Consort Jing asked.

She’d been curious for a long time but didn’t want to show it too obviously.

“We’re busy establishing a school.”

“Establishing a school?” Princess Consort Jing’s voice rose slightly. “You two are establishing a school?”

“Mm.” Qi Qiong planned to explain the details to her mother—perhaps she could even gain her mother’s tangible silver support.

But Princess Consort Jing’s face showed disbelief. “Women establishing a school?”

Could women actually establish schools?

Princess Consort Jing came from an ordinary wealthy household. If not for her mother being a scholar’s daughter who persuaded her father to hire teachers for her and her sister for a few years, she probably wouldn’t recognize more than a handful of characters.

Her daughter’s words brought her no small shock.

Qi Qiong was taken aback. “Why couldn’t we? It’s not like we have to be the teachers—as long as we have silver, isn’t that enough?”

Princess Consort Jing’s lips moved. She felt something wasn’t quite right somewhere, yet it seemed there was no problem.

At this moment, the maid Zhenzhu who’d gone to invite Lin Hao returned. “The heir’s wife just went out.”

“Why didn’t Elder Sister-in-law call me?” Qi Qiong wondered.

“The in-law madam sent someone to invite the heir’s wife.”

Hearing Zhenzhu say this, Princess Consort Jing and Qi Qiong didn’t ask further.

Even in households with exceptionally strict rules, when the in-law madam sent an invitation, there was no reason to prevent a daughter-in-law from returning to her natal home. Moreover, the prince’s residence had never had so many rules.

“Qiong’er, explain the school establishment matter to me in more detail.”

Lin Hao had indeed been summoned by someone Lin Shi sent, but not to return to the General’s residence—rather, she headed straight for Tianyuan Temple.

In the carriage, Lin Hao asked Lin Shi’s maid Fangfei, “Why is Mother at Tianyuan Temple?”

Fangfei’s complexion didn’t look good, and her voice clearly conveyed panic. “Madam went to pray for the eldest granddaughter-in-law’s blessing.”

After the Lin Hao sisters married, the General’s residence’s form of address became eldest granddaughter-in-law and second granddaughter-in-law. With Lin Chan pregnant, it was reasonable for Lin Shi to pray for her daughter’s blessing.

But looking at Fangfei’s expression, then thinking about the place called Tianyuan Temple, Lin Hao developed an ominous premonition. “Has something happened again?”

She remembered—that time her mother had discovered a headless female corpse at Tianyuan Temple. The case remained unsolved to this day.