Fu Zhi sighed. “Your parents’ bond was shallow. Don’t blame them. Let the previous generation resolve their own grievances. You’re now an adult and have established your own family. Toward your parents, you should be filial, but you mustn’t lose sight of righteousness.”

Fu Zhi looked at his grandson and instructed, “When you can’t decide something, go find Sanniang. She knows better than you how to handle such matters.”

Fu Tinghan obediently nodded.

Fu Zhi had nothing more to say. He leaned against the pillow and gazed toward the window. “The sky seems to be brightening. Open the window so I can see.”

Fu Tinghan first covered him with a garment, pulling it up to his neck, before going to push open the window. A strip of pale orange clouds appeared on the horizon.

The grandfather and grandson silently watched the sunrise outside the window. The sun rose quickly. First came a spread of orange-red, then in the blink of an eye, half the sun popped up over the mountain ridge. A ray of light shone straight through the open window.

Fu Zhi suddenly gripped Fu Tinghan’s hand tightly.

Fu Tinghan quickly turned around. “Grandfather?”

Fu Zhi’s mouth opened and closed, but finally he said, “If you have the ability, help me find your three uncles and cousins. Since the world fell into chaos, communications were cut off. I’ve had no news of them.”

Fu Tinghan quickly said, “I’ve been having people keep watch. As soon as there’s news, I’ll immediately send people to bring them back.”

Fu Zhi smiled. “Good, good. I think they should still be alive. It’s just that the world is too chaotic—who knows where they’ve ended up. I hope they’re hiding well.”

Fu Tinghan: “Grandfather, is there anything else you want to instruct me about?”

Fu Zhi looked at him and shook his head. “Among your father and your three uncles, I’m least at ease about your father. He’s too stubborn. Though intelligent, he’s straightforward and doesn’t know how to adapt. His nature is also detached. Without your mother, who knows how much suffering he would have endured.”

“But it’s also because of your mother that he participates in court affairs. Originally, with his temperament, the wilderness would have been his best destination,” Fu Zhi said. “Though your three uncles don’t match your father in learning and knowledge, they can bend and stretch. As long as there’s a thread of hope, they’ll strive to stay alive.”

Fu Xuan was different. He was proud and indifferent to his own life and death. He worked tirelessly for Great Jin not because he loved this court or this country. In his view, Great Jin shouldn’t be saved—what was corrupt should be allowed to die. The world would find its own way. The great momentum would evolve without needing people to do much.

And he, a mere insignificant person with weak power, couldn’t do much anyway.

He worked and exhausted himself only because of responsibility—because both his father and wife wanted to save Great Jin. As a son and husband, he couldn’t abandon them, so he followed their efforts.

But as long as Fu Zhi and Princess Hongnong weren’t there, he would immediately give up. Even if someone threatened his life, he would do his best to flee once, and if he couldn’t escape, he wouldn’t struggle much. He would calmly, even happily, welcome death.

Fu Zhi often felt this son could die at any moment.

Fu Tinghan had once given him the same feeling. He always felt this child was very insubstantial, very detached from the mortal world, as if he might leave at any moment.

“And among you and your several cousins, I’m most worried about you too,” Fu Zhi said. “Now the world’s great momentum is changing, and you’re at the center of this great change. You seem to have power and influence, but you’re also in the most danger.”

“I don’t know what the future holds. I only hope you can remember that a person’s life comes only once. No matter what circumstances you’re in, never give up on life.”

Facing Fu Zhi’s expectant gaze, Fu Tinghan nodded. He didn’t seem like someone who would commit suicide, did he? He felt Grandfather’s understanding of him was somewhat off.

The sky brightened. People at the station gradually woke. Zhao Hanzhang came over first. Seeing Fu Zhi awake, she immediately called for the Imperial Physician, delighted, though her heart was heavy with worry.

Princess Hongnong, Fu Xuan and the others also came. Their hearts were equally worried, but they showed nothing on their faces, happily accompanying Fu Zhi for breakfast.

The Imperial Physician came to take Fu Zhi’s pulse, also smiling as he said, “Provincial Governor Fu’s condition has improved.”

But upon leaving, he told Princess Hongnong and Fu Xuan, “Let Fu Gong eat whatever he wishes.”

He hesitated before adding, “It’s just these one or two days. If you want him more comfortable, stay at the station. Returning to the capital—the carriage can’t go fast, and it would take two days.”

Which meant his final time would all be spent on the road.

Hearing this, Princess Hongnong’s tears fell unbidden. She turned to look inside the room. Zhao Hanzhang stood at the door at some point, her face completely expressionless, appearing overly stern.

The expressionless Zhao Hanzhang seemed too cold and severe. The Imperial Physician was somewhat afraid and quickly lowered his head to bow before retreating to the side.

Princess Hongnong looked toward her and asked, “Should we return to the capital, or wait here a while?”

Zhao Hanzhang lowered her eyes in thought for a moment, then said, “The people Grandfather wanted to see in Luoyang are all here. There’s no need to rush back.”

Princess Hongnong breathed a sigh of relief and nodded.

Fu Xuan and Fu Tinghan had even less objection.

In the end, Zhao Hanzhang still had the Station Master slaughter the chicken to make chicken soup noodles for Fu Zhi.

Princess Hongnong wanted to cook personally to show her filial piety. She pulled Fu Xuan into the kitchen to knead dough and assigned Fu Tinghan the task of washing vegetables.

Zhao Hanzhang had people carry Fu Zhi to the field’s edge to look at the rice and wheat.

The rice had just begun heading, while the spring wheat’s leaves had already yellowed. In about twenty more days, the spring wheat could be harvested.

Zhao Hanzhang walked to the field’s edge and plucked a head to show him. “The seed quality is ordinary—the yield per mu isn’t high. If we select good wheat seeds this year, next year’s yield should improve.”

Fu Zhi held the wheat head in his palm, pinching each grain as he passed over them, his face showing undisguised joy. “It’s already very good—much better than previous years. The agricultural tools from the Bureau of Agriculture work very well. One plowing removes the grass between the furrows while also thickening the soil around the wheat roots. Combined with the new composting method that increased fertilizer substantially, this year Yongzhou’s winter wheat harvest was quite good. Unfortunately too little was planted, though spring wheat and beans made up for it. I’ve seen them all—they’re all growing well. This year should be a good harvest.”

Speaking of this, Fu Zhi’s spirits lifted even more, his face glowing. “Great General, you’ve saved countless lives. The people of Yongzhou all want to build you a living shrine.”

Zhao Hanzhang said, “As long as there are no more people dying from hunger and cold.”

This wasn’t easy to achieve—at least not now. There were too many orphaned children who’d lost their parents, and widowed elderly who’d lost their children. Their lives were always harder than ordinary people’s.

But at this moment, Fu Zhi was full of hope. He smiled at Zhao Hanzhang. “I believe Great General can certainly do it.”

Zhao Hanzhang couldn’t help but smile back at him.

Fu Zhi turned to look at the wheat field before them, gazing toward more distant places, and said softly, “As long as you maintain your original intention, you can certainly do it. Sanniang, don’t learn from your predecessors. Gou Xi was far inferior to you.”

Under his gaze, Zhao Hanzhang nodded.

Fu Zhi had nothing more to say. He set aside court affairs and had people carry his chair to look at the soybeans.

Compared to the wheat, the soybeans were planted very roughly. The weeds in the field were more abundant than the soybeans themselves. This was unavoidable—they lacked people. Much land couldn’t be intensively cultivated and could only be roughly farmed. Basically after plowing the land and scattering seeds, they’d plow once more to remove weeds and that was it. Many fields didn’t even have fertilizer added.

Rough farming was the most important reason for low yields per mu.

Zhao Hanzhang found this unsurprising. She walked into the field, felt the edamame pods—they were plump—and said happily, “Cut some. We can eat boiled edamame for lunch.”

—