Chapter 6 — Destined for the Phoenix Throne, I Refuse the Crown Prince

The grain price set by Crane Lu was far lower than the prevailing market rate, sitting merely twenty percent above the harvest yield of a bountiful year. However, the local grain merchants had already amassed a fortune by hoarding supplies and inflating prices. Now, whenever Crane Lu released a batch of grain, they eagerly bought it all up, only to turn around and resell it at exorbitant costs. Crane Lu made an example of several offenders using iron-fisted methods, successfully striking fear into the rest. Yet, the remaining merchants banded together, forming a tight-knit cartel. No matter how much pressure the local yamen exerted, they adamantly refused to lower their grain prices.

Undaunted, Crane Lu took a different approach. He posted public notices proclaiming that the official government would purchase grain at a rate well above the market value. Lured by the prospect of immense profit, merchants from far and wide rushed day and night to transport grain to the province of Lu. Cargo boats crowded the banks of the Huai River, their hulls pressing against one another in a dense flotilla. Soon, the river was congested with vessels laden with grain. Coincidentally, the patrol boats Crane Lu had dispatched to maintain order suffered an "unexpected" capsizing, effectively sealing off the narrow lock. In an instant, over a hundred grain-laden ships were trapped upon the Huai River.

Stapled in place, the massive piles of grain incurred mounting maintenance costs, while the daily lodging and provisions for dozens of crew members drained their funds at an alarming rate. Compounding their despair, the grain supply within the city walls now drastically outstripped demand. Desperate to recoup their capital and cut their losses, the merchants had no choice but to voluntarily slash their prices and dump their goods. Plunging rapidly, grain prices soon plummeted back to the normal levels of a fruitful year.

One month later, the natural disaster plaguing Lu had been largely contained, and Crane Lu shifted his focus to commanding post-disaster reconstruction. First, he requisitioned a supply of drought-resistant crop seeds from neighboring prefectures and counties, distributing them widely while mobilizing the common folk to seize the moment for replanting, thereby mitigating their losses to the absolute minimum. Yet, distant water cannot quench a nearby fire, and waiting for the seeds to mature required precious time. The most pressing priority was to stabilize the domestic situation before the new crops could ripen. I dispatched a secret agent to deliver a message to Crane Lu. The contents were remarkably concise:

"Distribute surplus wealth to bestow grace upon the impoverished."

Depending solely on official government relief grain could never sustain the populace for long. Giving a man a fish is never as effective as teaching him how to fish. In times of famine, labor is cheap, so Crane Lu first employed the refugees to dig irrigation canals, followed by the repair of granaries, official quarters, and other public properties. Through their honest toil, the refugees earned daily wages to buy food and survive, sparing them the agony of wandering as destitute vagrants.

Furthermore, Prince Xuan—Crane Lu himself, acting in his capacity as the imperial commissioner—spent his days feasting and making merry along the banks of the Huai River, even organizing dragon boat races for the citizens. Eager to catch the discerning eye of the Prince, wealthy local gentry flocked to the riverbanks in droves. Wherever the affluent gather, commercial opportunities inevitably follow. Within a mere three months, a multitude of taverns and shops had sprung up along the Huai River, drawing countless commoners out for leisure and entertainment. This leisurely stroll among the populace naturally stimulated surrounding trade and gastronomy, creating a virtuous economic cycle. The wealth spent by the affluent gentry flowed directly into the pockets of the common people.

Subsidizing grain purchases at high prices, undertaking massive civil engineering to provide work in lieu of direct relief, and engaging the populace in festive boat races—these three time-tested disaster-relief strategies successfully anchored the wandering, fragile hearts of the refugees.

Word of the triumphant victory reached the imperial capital, greatly pleasing the Emperor. Yet, before the words of commendation had even faded, an impeachment memorial was submitted by the imperial censors. The Chief Censor stepped forward with eloquent indignation, accusing Prince Xuan of "showing no sympathy for disaster relief, indulging excessively in frivolous amusements, and wasting the strength of the people." He denounced the Prince for failing to exercise thrift during his tenure in Lu, blatantly squandering imperial funds, and neglecting state affairs to spend his days in idle sightseeing, thereby draining the treasury and exhausting the common folk.

Conversely, another faction of officials stepped forward to speak on his behalf.

"In times of famine, what one fears most is the wealthy hoarding grain while the poor are left with no means of survival. Everything Prince Xuan has done is for the welfare of the people and the commoners. If he truly harbored malicious indifference toward the populace, how could the refugees of Lu have achieved stability in such a short span of time?"

The two factions held steadfast to their opposing views, arguing incessantly without resolution. Seated upon the dragon throne, the Emperor listened to the heated debates with an impassive expression, offering neither praise nor censure in the end. He merely issued an imperial decree ordering Crane Lu to return to the capital.

Scarcely a few days had passed since the decree was promulgated when grim news reached the capital: Prince Xuan's traveling caravan had been ambushed by wandering outlaws on the journey back. In the ensuing chaos, the Prince plunged off a steep cliff, his fate hanging in the balance between life and death.

When the news reached the Xie estate, my grip faltered, and the teacup slipped from my hand, shattering into countless porcelain shards across the floor.

"What do you mean by his fate hanging between life and death?" I fixed a piercing stare upon the secret agent who brought the report, my voice tightening.

"This subordinate dispatched three separate groups to search the base of the cliff along the ravine, but the precipice is sheer, and dense forests sprawl below. To this day, we have found no trace of His Highness. However... neither have we found a body."

No body found. That meant there was still hope. I drew a deep breath, forcing myself to regain composure.

"Send more men. Continue the search."

If he lived, I must see the man; if he died, I must see the corpse. Acknowledging the command, the secret agent vanished into the shadows.