The plan to rebuild the Shang River Dam began moving at full speed once the craftsmen had finished drafting the blueprints. Vast numbers of disaster victims, displaced by the floods, joined the dam reconstruction effort in exchange for a single day’s ration of food.

The official grain reserves, already stretched thin, were rapidly running dry. Nearby merchants, seeing an opportunity, raised prices on the spot — the price of a dou of rice across the four flood-ravaged prefectures had risen more than fortyfold, and transporting grain from more distant regions would take too long.

Xu You worried himself sick over this day and night, unable to sleep.

The good news was that after he had sent out his requests for aid, replies from the governors of various prefectures had been trickling in one after another. The bad news was that every single governor under his jurisdiction had adopted an attitude of helpless regret.

No money to give, no grain to spare — each reply was nothing more than a piece of waste paper filled with tired, empty platitudes.

“These shortsighted fools!”

On this particular day, Xu You erupted in fury and cut off the clerk who was in the middle of reporting the contents of Yangzhou’s governor’s reply.

“Three thousand taels of silver? Are they trying to send off a beggar?” Xu You raged. “Rebuilding the dam benefits everyone — how can they not understand that?!”

The several clerks in the study did not dare say a word.

The advisor Xu You had brought from the army spoke up with a grave expression: “It is not that they do not understand… they simply refuse to submit to your authority, sir. Since the establishment of the Zhenchuan Military Governorship, military power has always been in the hands of the Li Family of Shangzhou. You are new here, and winning people’s loyalty is not something that can be accomplished in a day or two.”

“I can afford to wait — but the people cannot! The Shang River cannot!” Xu You cried out in anger. “The rainy season is almost upon us. Once the Shang River floods, will only the same four prefectures suffer? If they won’t respond to a soft approach, then I’ll have no choice but to take a hard one — I cannot wait any longer!”

“My lord, please think this through carefully!” The advisor’s face changed color. “Right now, fewer than thirty percent of the Zhenchuan Army is under our command. Please do not act rashly and fall into the trap set by those villains!”

“This won’t work, that won’t work — where on earth is the money for this dam supposed to come from?!” Xu You’s temper flared; he slammed a fist down on the crude wooden table. A crack rang out — it seemed somewhere a piece of wood had snapped.

“My lord…” The advisor looked at the cheap, flimsy wooden table in alarm, and swallowed back the words that another broken table would be yet another expenditure.

Fortunately, Xu You did not continue his outburst. Instead, he collapsed into his wooden chair with a look of utter defeat.

For a man of his stature as Military Governor, his spacious study contained nothing but a table and a few chairs. Were it not that the governorship compound could not be sold, Xu You would have gladly traded this ostentatious and impractical building for silver to fund the dam repairs.

“My lord! My lord — there is still one more letter here, from Xiangzhou!” A clerk suddenly grew excited upon looking at a particular letter.

“How much silver this time? Three thousand taels or five thousand?” Xu You said sarcastically.

“Five… five…” the clerk stuttered.

“Five thousand?”

The clerk lifted his eyes from the letter, his face flushed with excitement: “Fifty thousand! Xiangzhou says they are willing to provide five hundred thousand taels of silver for the dam repairs, along with five hundred shi of rice for disaster relief! The convoy carrying the grain and silver set out at the same time as this letter — it should arrive in Shangzhou in approximately three days!”

“Is this truly so?!” Xu You leapt up from his chair, his expression overcome with emotion. Without waiting for the clerk to confirm, he snatched the letter from his hands and read it through to the end. He confirmed the clerk had conveyed the contents correctly — Xiangzhou had indeed agreed to provide five hundred thousand taels of silver for the dam reconstruction! The five hundred shi of rice they were sending was not much, but it would serve as a temporary solution to the urgent shortage of food rations.

This was what it meant to receive aid in the hour of greatest need.

In his elation, Xu You felt a pang of concern: “For a single prefecture to bear almost the entire relief effort for four prefectures — Xiangzhou must have many needs of their own. How did they manage to gather five hundred thousand taels?”

The people in the study exchanged glances with one another.

After the floods, the four prefectures had been cut off from the outside world, and news traveled slowly. Xu You’s question was everyone’s question.

The advisor said hesitantly: “When I was in the Zhenchuan Army, I had some limited dealings with Xiangzhou’s Governor Li Zhuzong. He is a man of both courage and strategy, resolute and decisive, but neglectful of administrative affairs. I imagine this matter was once again arranged by the Madam of Xiangzhou.”

“Li Zhuzong truly married a capable and virtuous wife,” Xu You said with feeling. “With such a wife, what more could a man desire?”

“With Xiangzhou’s contribution on top of the treasury reserves Li Que left behind, patching things together should be enough to sustain us until the Shang River Dam is rebuilt,” the advisor ventured cautiously. “Since that is the case, perhaps you might consider easing the timeline for the laborers and craftsmen. I have heard that in order to meet the deadline you set, the laborers have been working day and night without rest. If this continues, the people will surely grow resentful.”

Xu You refused without a second thought.

“The rainy season can arrive at any moment. Right now they can still open their mouths to complain — but once the river channels flood and the Shang River dam breaks again, they won’t even be able to open their mouths to complain!” Xu You said. “These ignorant commoners do not understand what is at stake, which is precisely why they need us above them to make decisions. When the rainy season comes, they will naturally understand the hardship I have endured for their sake.”

The advisor hesitated, as if wanting to say something more.

“There is nothing more to say. This matter admits no room for compromise. The reconstruction of the Shang River Dam can only be done sooner, never later. If anyone causes trouble, do not report it to me — deal with it severely!”

“…Yes, sir.”

……

The fingers of the cold wave had already reached the embankment. Disaster victims in threadbare clothing, with no choice but to exchange labor for a single meal each day, had joined the frantic, relentless effort to repair the dam.

Overseers carrying soft whips patrolled every corner of the embankment. The moment someone slowed down, a lash would land across their back.

When mealtime finally came after a grueling stretch of labor, a few broad-shouldered soldiers hauled out a large pot of thin, murky, flavorless gruel. The line of people waiting to receive food stretched so far that the end was nowhere in sight.

A gaunt, skeletal man stood in the queue, staring numbly ahead at the uncovered pot and the mountain of wild vegetable buns piled behind the soldiers.

The cold wind gusted through his tattered clothes every so often.

A week ago, he had still been able to feel the bone-deep cold — had even despaired, convinced he would not survive the cold wave. Yet somehow, whether the temperature had risen or his body had simply grown accustomed to it, he had stopped feeling cold these past few days.

His body grew heavier by the day, yet his spirit felt strangely lighter — freed, at least, from the torment of hunger and freezing cold.

He was not sure how much time passed before the gruel station was finally in front of him. A sturdy soldier picked up a large ladle and scooped a single ladleful of thin gruel into the clay bowl he held out. The man stared, unblinking — the grains of rice in the watery gruel were so few they could be counted on one hand. He held out his bowl and pleaded: “Could you give me one more scoop? I have a child not yet two years old… please, I beg you…”

“Even if you had ten children, it would make no difference — one bowl per person!” the soldier barked fiercely. “If you keep blocking this line, forget getting this bowl too!”

“Please don’t be angry, sir, please don’t be angry… I’ll go now, I’ll go right away… could you at least give me my…”

A cold, hard wild vegetable bun was hurled into the man’s bowl of gruel, splashing quite a bit of the thin rice water over the rim.

As the man stepped away, he licked his hand clean of the spilled rice water with the careful reverence one might show toward nectar.

It did not taste the way he had imagined food would taste after going so long without eating.

No trace of salt, no fragrance of rice — what he drew into his mouth seemed like nothing more than cold, empty air.

The man cradled his clay bowl and made his way to the refugee camp nearby, where clusters of people had gathered together.

He found a drafty makeshift tent cobbled together from a few broken planks of wood, ducked inside, and handed the bowl of gruel to his wife, who had been waiting with a look of eager anticipation.

His son, just over a year old, lay in his wife’s arms, crying and wailing without stop, his two small, filth-covered hands straining desperately toward the bowl.

“Don’t cry… Papa brought food back for you…” the man said, wiping the tears from his son’s face, forcing a smile onto his weathered features.

His wife raised the clay bowl to her lips, then seemed to remember something. She lowered it and held it back out to him: “Husband, you eat first.”

“I’ve already eaten. You and the child eat.” The man pushed the bowl away. “I’m not hungry.”

Strangely enough, he truly felt no hunger. Even with food placed before his eyes, he felt no surge of saliva, no urgency. At night when he slept, there was no longer that restless, tormented, sleepless hunger — that desperate sensation of wanting to shove fistfuls of dirt into his mouth just to fill the void.

The man was both puzzled by this and quietly relieved.

His wife, seeing his firm resolve, picked up the soaked bun from the clay bowl, tore it into small pieces, chose the smallest piece and placed it in her own mouth, then brought the bowl to her lips and began drinking in tiny sips.

At the sight of this, the child’s cries grew all the more wrenching and desperate.

After a short while, the wife lifted the bowl from her lips. Just as the man had done moments before, she carefully caught the last drops of moisture at the corners of her mouth with the tip of her tongue. Unlike him, she wore the expression of someone savoring the finest delicacy in the world — a look of lingering satisfaction.

She handed the nearly untouched bowl to the child, whose cries had not ceased, and watched him gulp it down in large mouthfuls, saying gently: “Slowly now, drink slowly…”

After finishing the bowl of thin gruel soaked with the bun, the child was still unsatisfied and continued to fuss and cry.

The wife held the young child — too small still to understand anything — in her arms and patiently soothed him, and only after great effort managed to coax her exhausted son to sleep.

Just as she was about to say something to her husband, she looked up to find him leaning against the wooden plank, asleep — at some point without her noticing.

He lay completely still, sleeping so deeply that even the child’s crying had not roused him.

No doubt he had run into a heartless overseer today again, and had been pushed to work without a single breath of rest — which was why he could sleep so soundly.

The wife smiled ruefully. When the smile faded, nothing remained in her heart but a bitter ache.

Carefully, clumsily, trying not to wake the child, she removed her own outer garment — the only one she had — and draped it over her husband’s thin, bony frame.

In the process, she knocked loose one of his cold, stiff hands. She took it in her own and held it gently for a while before tucking it back under the garment.

Rest now. Sleep.

Her gaze, full of tenderness, lingered on the two most important men in her life. Her own heavy eyelids began slowly to close.

Just before she drifted off, she comforted herself with a thought:

As long as the family is still together, things will get better someday.

Sleep through today, sleep through tomorrow — hope will come.

It will come… it must.

……

Chinese arborvitae leaves curled and blackened in the brazier. The scent of medicinal herbs drifted into every corner of the side room.

Shen Zhuxi knelt on a rough rush cushion, eyes closed, both hands pressed together before her chest, her expression devout as she murmured softly.

“What are you doing? Why haven’t you even lit the lamp?”

Li Wu, returning home from the yamen, found Shen Zhuxi in the side room. The moment he stepped inside, his brow furrowed. He raised a hand to cover his nose and said with distaste:

“What are you burning?”

Shen Zhuxi opened her eyes and looked at him, her hands still clasped before her chest.

“This is Chinese arborvitae, sent by Doctor Tang. It has the properties of lightening the body, boosting vital energy, improving tolerance for cold and heat, and dispelling dampness and obstruction. You went into the water many times recently — you should be inhaling more of this smoke. Did you not use the arborvitae I had sent to the yamen for you?”

“I thought it was for hanging above the door.” Li Wu glanced around and said, “It’s nearly dark. Why haven’t you lit a lamp?”

“Oil lamps are quite an expense for the household. I thought I would save wherever I could.” Shen Zhuxi quickly added, “If you can’t see clearly, I’ll have someone light one right away…”

“No need.”

She placed her hands on her knees to rise from the floor. Li Wu reached out and pulled her up, drawing her into his arms.

He frowned and squeezed her ice-cold hands, wrapping both of his around them.

“Saving lamp oil is one thing — but are you skimping on the charcoal fire as well?”

Shen Zhuxi smiled sheepishly: “But there is a fire burning…”

“You call burning arborvitae a fire?” Li Wu countered.

“I’m perfectly healthy—” Shen Zhuxi insisted. “It’s not as if you don’t know — even on the road fleeing during last year’s famine, I never fell ill. You don’t need to worry…”

“I’m not worried,” Li Wu interrupted her, lifting her hand to his lips and brushing it gently against them. “I just feel for you.”

It was a kiss without a trace of desire.

Li Wu’s heart held only reverence for a kind and noble spirit, the wonder of having witnessed with his own eyes how a raw gem could shine so brilliantly, and beyond that — the pride of having taken as his wife a woman unmatched in all the world.

“Never mind the lamp and the charcoal — what are you kneeling in here for?” Li Wu said. “I heard from the household staff that you’ve been kneeling in this side room for most of the day.”

Shen Zhuxi had not realized she had been kneeling so long. Only when Li Wu mentioned it did she feel the pain and numbness in both her knees.

“I finished what I had at hand, and found myself with nothing to do. I wanted to do something for those who lost their lives in the flood.” Her smile dimmed, and she said softly, “Although I can’t give them a proper burial, I thought that if I recited the Buddhist sutras and the Daoist classics several times through, it might be of some help… perhaps?”

She hesitated suddenly, and a look of remorse crossed her face.

“You don’t believe in these things yourself. Does hearing me say this make you feel that it’s foolish?”

“…It doesn’t.” Li Wu tightened his grip on her hands.

These hands were still soft and smooth, but compared to when she had reached out from between the bookshelves to take his hand, they had grown so much rougher.

He had said he would give her a good life. In practice, he had always made her suffer hardship.

From before, until now.

“Even the Buddha and the Jade Emperor, if they heard you, would surely be moved by your sincerity.”

Li Wu let go of her hands, pulled aside the hem of his robe, and knelt down on the rush cushion where Shen Zhuxi had been kneeling.

“What are you doing?” Shen Zhuxi asked in surprise.

“Sending a word upstairs,” Li Wu said.

He turned to face the pale, fading sunset beyond the door, and bowed his head in a single, earnest kowtow.

Whether it was the Jade Emperor or the Sage of Bodhi — do as his wife had asked, and do it quickly. If you dare to let his wife down, don’t blame him for following courtesy with force —

One duck-feather arrow, and thousands upon thousands of soldiers would come calling.