Even in her past life, flooding had never been a problem fully resolved — how could it possibly be solved so easily now? Hua Zhi looked up at Little Six. “I need a little time to sort through my thoughts. Once I’ve worked it out, I’ll explain it to you. It’s getting late — go rest first.”

It was only now that the Sixth Prince vaguely realized he might have been placing a burden on Elder Sister Hua. Yet from her manner, he also sensed that she was not entirely without ideas. He felt both guilty and hopeful, and gazed at Hua Zhi with wide, expectant eyes, not moving to leave.

Hua Zhi smiled, and lightly tapped the top of his head with the pointer. It was a liberty, but in this moment no one would think so — even the Sixth Prince simply felt it was wonderful.

“If I can’t come up with a plan, how can I be worthy of the faith you’ve placed in me?”

The Sixth Prince’s eyes shone bright. He nodded, a little embarrassed, and finally went obediently back to his room.

No sooner had he left than Shao Yao began making sounds of complaint from the side. “Hua Hua, you really do indulge him far too much.”

“Yan Xi also says I indulge you too much. Should I just change my ways with both of you at once?”

“Absolutely not!” Shao Yao was instantly alarmed. “Is Yan Xi really supposed to be my brother? What kind of brother talks like that!”

Hua Zhi gave her a sideways look. “And you’re supposed to be Little Six’s elder sister.”

Shao Yao wilted at once. “Fine. Keep indulging them.”

This kind of childish jealousy was something Hua Zhi indulged too. She turned her gaze back to the sand table.

“Hua Hua, why don’t you go sleep first? There’s no rush for this tonight.”

“I have a thread of an idea. Don’t worry about me — all of you go rest.”

No one moved to leave. Xu Ying went to trim the candlewicks brighter. Bao Xia prepared a late-night snack and brought it over, afraid her mistress would grow any thinner — the young miss had already lost a great deal of weight over the past year.

Hua Zhi didn’t refuse Bao Xia’s kindness and ate a small amount. Then she picked up the county records and began reading through them, occasionally comparing passages against the map. The others moved on tiptoe throughout the room, afraid to disturb her thinking.

When the night watch drum struck the fourth hour, Hua Zhi set down a map she had sketched — one only she could understand — and rubbed the center of her brow. “There are a few things I need to confirm. Bo Fan, is it possible tomorrow to invite someone who knows the terrain of Xiangyang well to come? If they also know the surrounding county towns’ terrain, even better.”

Bo Fan’s original impression of Hua Zhi had been what Yu Tao described her as — the heart of the chief. Through a full day and night of acquaintance, they had come to understand why the chief valued her so. Some people’s abilities were never merely claimed in words.

“This subordinate will invite the Xiangyang Registry Officer tomorrow.”

That was a fitting choice. But — “Is it possible to extend the invitation privately? My identity makes it unsuitable to receive guests with great fanfare.”

“Yes, this subordinate understands.”

Hua Zhi nodded, rose, and said: “No more burning the midnight oil. Everyone go rest. Yu Tao, you’ll need to keep a close watch on the hydrological station.”

“Yes.”

That night, Hua Zhi slept very fitfully — either she was climbing over mountains, or she was submerged in water. By the next morning she felt more exhausted than if she hadn’t slept at all.

“Miss, your color isn’t good. Why not sleep a little longer?” Bao Xia came forward and pulled the blanket up a little. The consecutive days of rain had made the weather thoroughly cold, and today was noticeably colder than yesterday — another layer of clothing would be needed.

Listening to the sound of rain on the roof, Hua Zhi sighed inwardly. Truly not a shred of pleasant surprise. “Open the window a crack. Let me hear it.”

Bao Xia went obediently to prop open the window. “The rain hasn’t lessened — your maidservant thinks it’s a bit heavier than yesterday.”

“If the rain kept up at this intensity all night, the river’s rise won’t be small. Has Yu Tao returned?”

“Yes. He’s waiting outside, knowing you weren’t yet awake.”

Hua Zhi pushed back the blanket and got out of bed. For a brief moment everything swam before her eyes. She endured that instant without letting it show, and by the time Bao Xia came over with her clothes, she stood up as though nothing had happened. She really had been raised too delicately — a little lost sleep and already she was feeling unwell. To think there had been a time when she could push through several days and nights of hard work without faltering.

“Hua Hua.” The moment the door opened, Shao Yao rushed in. Seeing Hua Zhi’s color, she immediately reached for her wrist to check her pulse. Hua Zhi caught her hand in return and shook her head. “It’s nothing. I just had dreams all night and didn’t sleep soundly. I’ll make it up with a nap at noon.”

Worried about hurting Hua Zhi, Shao Yao didn’t dare struggle. But her brow was still furrowed, and she looked a little unhappy.

Hua Zhi squeezed the hand in her palm reassuringly, then looked toward Yu Tao. “What is the situation?”

“It has risen two marks. The current level is already past the sixth mark.”

“Has the yamen issued a warning?”

“Yes. A warning was issued early this morning, but no one along the riverbanks has yet left.”

Hua Zhi was puzzled. “Why not?”

Yu Tao looked toward Bo Fan, who showed a slightly helpless expression. “This happens every year. There haven’t been any major disasters in recent years, so they’re all holding on to the hope that this year will be like last year — only a minor one.”

Hua Zhi felt helpless as well. Just looking at the rain, which showed not the slightest sign of letting up, anyone should know this wasn’t going to be minor. “Has the yamen sent anyone out in person?”

Bo Fan shook his head. “Everyone has gotten used to this.”

Such habits were truly… When the disaster finally came, who would there be left to blame?

Xie Xu came in to report: “Miss Hua, the Xiangyang Registry Officer has arrived.”

“Please show him to the main hall.”

“Yes.”

The Xiangyang Registry Officer, Xu Yangjun, was around forty years of age — slight in build, fair-skinned, the very image of a scholarly gentleman. The moment he entered the room, he was struck by the enormous sand table and stopped short. Only then did he raise his eyes toward the person seated at the head of the room.

It was a woman.

He actually stopped in his tracks.

Xie Xu gave a soft cough. He appeared on the surface to be a man of letters himself, and had some acquaintance with Xu Yangjun over the years — he knew the man well enough to understand that deep down he subscribed entirely to the doctrine from the books that a woman’s virtue lay in her lack of learning. He stepped forward now to smooth things over: “Brother Xu, this is an old acquaintance of mine. Simply address her as Miss Hua.”

Xu Yangjun was no fool who had read himself into stupidity. Hearing Xie Xu’s words, he took the offered step and moved forward a few paces, clasping his hands in greeting. “This person is Xu Yangjun. Greetings, Miss Hua.”

With one look, Hua Zhi saw exactly what sort of person Xu Yangjun was. As it happened, she held a natural fondness for this type — she couldn’t help it. The Hua Family was a family of scholars through and through, and scholars of the first order at that; this sense of closeness was born into her.

Naturally, she also understood people like him better than most. She felt a slight regret that she hadn’t made things clearer to Bo Fan beforehand and had him take the lead in managing this matter.

But it was too late for that now. Hua Zhi rose and gave Xu Yangjun a slight incline of her head. “Thank you for the trouble of coming, Master Xu.”

“You are too courteous, Miss Hua.” Xu Yangjun declined to accept the courtesy. Although he was not of distinguished birth, he had traveled to the capital to sit the imperial examinations; he knew that a person of this manner and bearing could not be of low origin. He had no desire to go fawning upon her, but neither could he afford to give offense.

Xie Xu conscientiously played the role of intermediary. “We asked Brother Xu to come because there are one or two things we wished to ask him about. Brother Xu may rest assured — it is nothing that will put you in a difficult position.”

Xu Yangjun had several years of acquaintance with Xie Xu and placed some trust in him. He gave a slight nod. “As long as it is something I can speak to, I will hold nothing back.”

Hua Zhi walked to the sand table, and Xie Xu guided Xu Yangjun over as well. Xu Yangjun knew the terrain well — Xiangyang and its surroundings most of all — and with little effort he grasped what this mound of sand represented. Truly remarkable — far more three-dimensional than a flat map.

Author’s Note: First time doing volunteer work. Thirty-six degrees out. No amount of sunscreen makes any difference — thoroughly sunburned. Went through six bottles of Huoxiang Zhengqi Water. Exhausting, but at peace.