“Master Xu should be able to recognize where this is. As I draw in these other locations next, I would ask Master Xu to watch carefully and tell me if anything is wrong.” Hua Zhi held the map she had drawn the night before and used the pointer to trace over the sand table, comparing as she went. She was careful not to disturb what was already there.

Xu Yangjun didn’t understand at first, but once Hua Zhi had drawn in three locations, something stirred in his mind and he began to catch on. He forgot to mind his composure, quickly took up the map lying nearby, opened it, and began comparing carefully. His throat tightened — these places were normally unremarkable, but if they could be put to use at this moment…

“Is there anything wrong?”

“Nothing at all.” Xu Yangjun pushed past Bo Fan and Yu Tao, who were standing in his way, and approached Hua Zhi. He pointed to a spot on the map: “There is also this place. I remember it clearly because the two villages here nearly dried up years ago, and the people fought over the last of the water, leaving four dead. That is why I remember it so precisely.”

The right person had been found after all. Hua Zhi simply set aside the map she had labored over so painstakingly the night before and traced the locations from the main map onto the sand table.

“Yes, right here. Did Miss Hua look this up from the county records? Those aren’t very specific — in fact, this particular river channel is forty-three zhang longer than what the county records show.”

Hua Zhi glanced at him. Whatever this man was like in other respects, the fact that he could casually state such a precise figure meant he was an official who did his primary duties well.

The two fell into an easy collaboration — one speaking, one working — and after a busy while, seven more river channels had been added to the sand table.

“Does Master Xu know the current state of these river channels?”

“The dried-up channels were abandoned and fell out of use. With limited resources, they’ve always been left alone.”

“So it isn’t known whether water eventually flowed back into them?”

Xu Yangjun smiled bitterly and nodded. He had never thought about this before, but now that it was raised, he felt a deep shame — this was a dereliction of his duty.

Hua Zhi exhaled lightly. In other words, all her work from the night before may have been for nothing. Still unwilling to give up entirely, she pressed on: “Not a single one is known?”

“Not entirely none.” Xu Yangjun took the pointer Hua Zhi offered and pointed to two places, though he was too careful to press firmly for fear of damaging things. “These two places I visited later. The channels can’t really be called river channels anymore — the river mud there is fertile, and the local people have cleared it out to make vegetable plots or converted it into farmland. They’ve dug their own irrigation ditches and catchment ponds. The drainage works fine in normal rainfall and it hasn’t flooded in the past several years. As for the rest, I genuinely do not know.”

Seeing Hua Zhi fall silent, Xu Yangjun couldn’t help but ask: “Is Miss Hua thinking of putting these channels back into use?”

“It isn’t a matter of whether I want to.” Hua Zhi beckoned to Little Six and, when he came over, patted his shoulder. “This young one asked me if I had any ideas, so of course I have to do my utmost to think of something.”

The Sixth Prince’s nose stung and he very nearly let tears fall — from happiness, overwhelming happiness.

Hua Zhi pressed the pointer into his hand. “Little Six, you tell them.”

The Sixth Prince looked at the newly added river channels and gave voice to what he had already been thinking. “Is Elder Sister Hua thinking of opening up these dried-out channels to relieve the pressure on the Weihe River?”

“Exactly. Any questions?”

“Yes.” The Sixth Prince pressed his lips together. “Are these seven channels wide enough? How deep are they? Can they achieve what we’re hoping for? And also — if doing this truly relieves the pressure on Xiangyang, but it’s also raining downstream… then what about…”

“That is precisely what water reports are for. We should notify the downstream areas of Xiangyang’s situation as soon as possible — even if we haven’t yet received an upstream water report ourselves. And the problem downstream isn’t entirely a matter of flooding.”

Hua Zhi opened the main map and showed him. “The terrain here is no longer fully flat — the mountains become more numerous. With many consecutive days of rain, the chances of landslides and mudslides increase significantly. As you said, if Xiangyang can safely weather this danger, the pressure downstream will multiply.”

“Is there no solution for that?” Having asked, the Sixth Prince immediately regretted it and hurried to add: “Elder Sister Hua, I didn’t mean anything by it — I just spoke without thinking…”

Hua Zhi smiled. “For the downstream situation, I do have a few ideas. There is a small county called Lingzhou here — I don’t imagine you’ve heard of it.”

The Sixth Prince looked at where Elder Sister Hua was pointing and shook his head.

“That’s not surprising. It’s genuinely very small — the population is just over four hundred people. Some places have villages with more than that. Lingzhou itself covers a fairly large area, but the land is desolate and harsh. A significant portion is swampland, and the mountains there are bare rock. Life is extremely difficult. I recall that in the early years of the Great Qing Dynasty, some people were resettled there, but they mostly all left later, and the court eventually gave up on it.”

The pointer traced lightly across the map. “If water were channeled through this place, setting aside what Lingzhou itself can absorb — from Lingzhou there is a direct route to the Sha River, which flows into another major river, the Jingshui River. The downstream areas might then come through unscathed.”

“The present question is what becomes of Lingzhou’s four hundred-odd people. If the court could give them a piece of land to settle on elsewhere, they may well be willing to leave. However dear one’s hometown may be, it can only be cherished if one can actually live there.”

Hua Zhi’s words stopped, and the room fell so silent a dropping needle could have been heard. The way it sounded… it seemed as though it wasn’t actually all that difficult. So why had the Weihe River flooded year after year without anyone ever thinking in this direction?

Four hundred people — what was that? Even four thousand people could be found a way to resettle!

Hua Zhi walked back and drank some tea to clear her head. It was beginning to ache. This was the best solution she could think of for relieving the downstream pressure. The prerequisite was that Xiangyang’s situation had to be resolved first. As for what to do downstream, there was a prince here, and several people from the Seven Lodges Bureau — she trusted that would not require her to manage it further.

What needed to be confirmed first was the situation with the remaining five channels. Pinching her brow, Hua Zhi turned around. “Bo Fan, can you find a way to get a clear picture of those five channels? Quickly.”

Bo Fan let out the breath that had been building in his chest, and nodded. “This subordinate will go immediately.”

Xu Yangjun had already reached the point where he couldn’t even look at Hua Zhi directly. His mind, however, was spinning at a furious pace. From the capital — surnamed Hua — there was only one Hua Family in the capital. Could it be… could it possibly be…

The Hua Family was now presided over by the eldest daughter, and the news that she possessed remarkable authority and decisiveness had long since spread through scholarly circles. He had a few friends in the capital, and they had mentioned in their correspondence that when the Hua Family’s matron passed away, the eldest daughter had taken charge of all household affairs, managing everything in good order. Even a daughter of the family who had been wronged and driven out had been brought back home by her arrangement — his friends’ letters had been full of admiration, saying it was entirely worthy of the Hua Family name.

Xu Yangjun’s breathing quickened just thinking about the possibility; his heart pounded as though it might leap from his throat. This had to be the Hua Family’s young miss. Only the Hua Family could have raised a young woman this capable, this knowledgeable. Master Hua, the patriarch, was so broad-minded — yes, yes, it had to be! He couldn’t be wrong!

And this young one called Little Six — he must also be from the Hua Family. Looking at his age, he was around ten years old, which placed him exactly within the range of the exile. There were rumors that the eldest daughter had a brother of around ten — it matched perfectly!

Author’s Note: Much heartache, much devastation, much that moved me. All manner of emotions packed tight in my chest.