The imperial court intended to concentrate all its efforts on building a city in Songjiang, with the purpose of safeguarding this息壤 (xirang, mythical self-expanding soil). This would be a military city, and aside from the garrison soldiers, no unauthorized personnel would be permitted to enter that sandy island. As soon as spring arrived, this plan would be immediately implemented.

In Songjiang, there was no one clamoring to sell land, as all the land there belonged to the state. Therefore, wealthy merchants could only watch as the Academy’s surveying personnel boarded ships and sailed downstream. Miss Hypatia and her handmaiden occupied one cabin together. She was utterly fascinated by mythological stories, showing deep interest in everything from Western deities who wore no clothes to Eastern demons who loved to swallow clouds and exhale mists.

The noble ladies of Chang’an had placed great hopes on Hypatia’s journey, hoping that what those men couldn’t accomplish might ultimately be completed by a woman. Thus, her luggage was stuffed full of gold and silver. By comparison, Master Jin Zhu appeared far more modest—just one servant, one donkey, and one scholar.

Smelling the strong fragrance, Jin Zhu couldn’t help but furrow his brow. He had never grown accustomed to Hypatia’s extravagance. As a scholar, maintaining a pure heart and few desires was a fundamental requirement. This kind of ostentatious display while passing through the streets was hardly the attitude for pursuing academic study. However, since Hypatia’s official rank was equal to his, he could only keep his mouth shut.

“Master Jin Zhu, the Academy’s master is currently hiding at home in a state of madness, and the Academy has lost its peace. We need to quickly obtain the xirang—perhaps only this way can we restore his clarity.”

Jin Zhu casually took a step backward. Hypatia’s habit of standing close to people when having face-to-face conversations was quite unbearable for him. Seeing that Hypatia had asked a question, he had no choice but to respond: “Let me correct you—it’s the Imperial Academy, and has nothing to do with Marquis Yun. The Yun family is merely a patron of the Academy, while Marquis Yun also serves as the Academy Director. That’s all. Some words cannot be spoken carelessly.”

“Second, whether xirang actually exists or not remains to be verified. As scholars, what we must most guard against is believing rumors. Sometimes even our own eyes are unreliable, let alone hearsay. If there weren’t official corroboration this time, I wouldn’t even have the interest to make a trip to the seaside. By comparison, the lost ancient kingdom of Loulan holds much greater attraction for me.”

“Third, Marquis Yun hasn’t gone mad. He’s simply unable to control his emotions. When a person’s nature is overly romantic, this kind of extreme emotional response can occur. He’ll be fine after resting quietly for a few days. These are the troubles of intelligent people.”

“Fourth, we only have a ten-day investigation period. I hope to immediately devote myself to research and not waste mental energy on superfluous matters. If Miss Hypatia has other business to attend to, I won’t wait for you. Once we land on the island, I won’t wait.”

Master Jin Zhu finished speaking in one breath, turned to leave, then thought better of it. He turned back around and clasped his fists toward Hypatia as a gesture of courtesy before walking into the cabin to rest.

“Monster, monster—a fool who only knows how to work! I’ve long heard about the beautiful scenery of Jiangnan. How can I not go see it? I’ve heard from friends whose homes are in Jiangnan that in spring there, apricot blossoms bloom amid gentle rain that dampens light robes, and beautiful women on country paths carry flower umbrellas with graceful bearing. For a beauty like me not to walk those country paths—wouldn’t that mean coming to Jiangnan in vain? Hmph, there aren’t many normal people in the Academy.”

Watching her twist and turn on the deck, fantasizing about herself walking amid apricot blossoms and spring rain in an alluring manner, the Academy students glared furiously at the boatmen, feeling that such beautiful scenery was only suitable for their own appreciation.

When Li Chengqian came to see Yun Ye, he found him quite normal. Aside from his fondness for drinking tea from coarse ceramic bowls, his walking, sitting, and reclining were no different from ordinary people. He said joyfully, “Ha! Ye Zi, your illness is cured?”

Yun Ye rolled his eyes at Li Chengqian and said, “That’s right, my illness is cured, but your illness hasn’t healed. I want that worthless island—why won’t you give it to me? I’ve already offered one hundred and fifty thousand strings of cash! Don’t you have any conscience at all? How much money do you want to sell me one worthless island? Tell me, just tell me…”

Li Chengqian watched helplessly as Yun Ye’s mania erupted, not knowing what to do. But he noticed that Xinyue very skillfully stuffed the coarse ceramic bowl her husband used for drinking tea into his hands. Yun Ye smashed four ceramic bowls in rapid succession before finally calming down, though his chest still heaved with anger.

“Why is this?” Li Chengqian asked Xinyue in astonishment.

“Your Highness doesn’t know—my clumsy husband has always had the habit of smashing things when losing his temper. As long as you give him things to smash, he’ll feel much better,” Xinyue said to the Crown Prince with a worried expression.

“Then why must he smash this particular kind of bowl? Has he smashed all the other porcelain in the house?”

“No, it’s not that. This kind of bowl is cheap. All the other tea bowls in the house are fine porcelain. It hurts to smash those. My clumsy husband always feels that being distressed about things while losing his temper isn’t satisfying—this way is more gratifying.”

“Chengqian, why have you come? Please sit. I’ve been a bit off lately, feeling stifled inside. Please don’t take offense.”

Li Chengqian sat down nervously to chat and laugh with Yun Ye, deeply afraid of triggering some nerve that would make him start raging again. This alternation between lucidity and confusion made him very worried.

“Cheng Niu and the others petitioned His Majesty in the great hall this morning to bestow the sandy island upon you, and were willing to offer two hundred thousand strings of cash. But it didn’t go well—they were still politely declined by Prime Minister Fang and the others. They said that other places weren’t much of a problem, but the sandy island alone wouldn’t do. The Academy’s scholars are rushing day and night toward the sandy island. Once the research is completed, this matter will be announced to the entire nation. It concerns the foundation of the state—it’s not a matter of money.”

“Alas, forget it. You don’t understand what’s really going on there. This approach is beyond reproach. Prime Minister Fang has his heart set on serving the country—I can’t criticize that. In the end, it’s my selfish desires acting up, making things difficult for His Majesty. This is a minister’s fault! Tomorrow I’ll go apologize to His Majesty and from then on won’t mention the sandy island matter again.”

Seeing that Yun Ye spoke coherently and his eyes were clear and lucid, Li Chengqian ultimately couldn’t suppress his curiosity and quietly asked, “Ye Zi, is it really xirang or not? Give your brother a straight answer—then it’ll be easier to help you speak up.”

“No, no, nonsense! Who said there’s xirang? How could that thing possibly appear in the mortal world? I previously heard about Bai Yujing…”

Speaking to this point, Yun Ye suddenly covered his mouth in alarm. He hastily bowed to Li Chengqian, then dove into his own room, shutting the door tightly and refusing to open it no matter who knocked.

The Crown Prince hadn’t come alone—he had many attendants. This kind of formal visit naturally required officials to record the proceedings, as well as numerous ceremonial guards and officials. Many eyes now gleamed with a strange light. The name “Bai Yujing” was not the first time they’d heard it.

At this time in Yuezhou, gloomy clouds and tragic mists pervaded the air. Guan Tinglong wore hemp mourning clothes, continuously taking steamed corn buns from bamboo baskets carried by students and distributing them one by one to the disaster victims. The relief efforts in Jiangnan Western Circuit were not particularly effective. For one thing, these people weren’t disaster victims in the actual sense—their current calamity was truly self-inflicted. Therefore, only the most basic living conditions were provided; everything else was ignored.

Guan Tinglong did everything in his power to provide living supplies to the disaster victims, but with the arrival of spring, the Yuezhou prefecture treasury could no longer provide more food and funds to help these economic disaster victims.

It wasn’t just the rural folk who were at the end of their rope—those merchants who had wanted to speculate were also gradually impoverished. Cuiwei Town, where cooking smoke used to rise from every household, now looked like a ghost realm. At night, only the wailing of wild dogs could be heard.

Xirang had been discovered in Songjiang, Yun Ye had become deranged, and the pace of developing the Two Lakes region had been postponed indefinitely. No one in the imperial court mentioned Yuezhou anymore. Guan Tinglong would also be leaving in April.

Han Cheng and Qian Sheng were also wearing hemp mourning clothes. Compared to before, both men looked a full twenty years older. Han Cheng, who was only in his forties, now had a full head of graying hair. Qian Sheng hunched his back, coughing while helping distribute the grain they’d managed to collect. Unfortunately, no one was grateful. They would take the grain, but the hostile glares were plentiful. Some villagers would even spit at them. Women who had lost their homes would grab them and demand their homes back.

It was they who had initially deceived the villagers, saying that all the land could be sold for high prices. Who knew that just as prices were rising, the villagers sold their homes, thinking that with this money they could easily build better houses elsewhere and the whole family could become prosperous. But things didn’t turn out as they’d imagined. Housing prices kept rising, seemingly without end. Then, under merchants’ instigation, they started using their money to buy… Now land prices had fallen again, and their money had been swallowed by a black hole, vanishing without a trace.

No matter how hard Han Cheng and Qian Sheng thought about it, they couldn’t understand—where had all that money gone? Where did the money go? The same land, the same money—why did it just evaporate from the mortal world?

What they didn’t know was that Yun Ye had taken all the money. Not only had Yun Ye taken the money from the villagers selling their land, he had also taken the money from those unscrupulous merchants. Of course, the state had also taken a portion—those commercial taxes. Yun Ye had pulled forty thousand strings of cash from the tiny area of Yuezhou through an empty-handed scheme and walked away. Without capital support, the real estate market, lacking continuous new buyers, was bound to collapse sooner or later.

Losses on paper and actual losses were two different things. Money houses had long had the function of preservation and extension. From Yuezhou to Chang’an, there was a full three-month accounting period for transactions. As long as Yun Ye made up for the gap within three months, he wouldn’t lose a single coin, because the accounts in both places were balanced. What Qi Dali saw were the Chang’an accounts, which only showed expenditures but wouldn’t take effect for a full three months. And three months was enough time for Yun Ye to turn somersaults in this gap. The small amount of money Guan Tinglong had initially used to buy land was merely a portion that the Yun family had borrowed from the money house using their reputation as collateral.

When building a city, if one couldn’t even account for this small factor of land prices, what city would one build? Moreover, the brutal forced demolitions of later generations had long made Yun Ye recognize the power of the common people. Not planning to use urban management enforcers and letting unscrupulous merchants and enemies do this work was most appropriate. The common people of the Great Tang were undoubtedly far more formidable than people of later generations. As long as they sat by the roadside weeping, countless officials would immediately come to ask what injustice they had suffered. In this era, there was never a shortage of people who would risk their official positions to seek justice for the common people.