Master Xun

Wang An came to pass on a message.

He draped an outer robe over Jiang Xun's shoulders: "The two heirs have arrived and invite you to go out and play. They are waiting outside the door. Would you like to go out?"

Jiang Xun: "I'll go."

The two heirs Wang An mentioned, Xu Ping and Xu Ying, were the sons of Jiang Xun's uncles, Jiang Xun's own cousins.

His ascension to the throne was sudden, leaving him isolated and without support in the court. After taking the throne, Jiang Xun massively distributed titles and fiefs. First, he elevated his deceased palace maid mother to Empress Dowager, and then enfeoffed his two uncles as marquises, making their sons heirs.

This family was born into poverty, otherwise they wouldn't have sold their daughter into the palace. His uncles couldn't read a single word; in their early years, they were coolies selling their labor at the docks. Suddenly receiving this overwhelming wealth, apart from spending recklessly, indulging in sensual pleasures, and wandering between dance pavilions and singing towers, they had nowhere else to go.

They came to find Jiang Xun to ask him to leave the palace and listen to some tunes.

Jiang Xun pinched the letter in his sleeve: "I'm going."

Wang An prepared an outfit suitable for a young master of a wealthy family for him. After changing into it, Jiang Xun left the palace through a side door and met up with Xu Ping and Xu Ying.

His two cousins were both dripping in gold and silver, their attire ostentatious. Comparing the three, Jiang Xun was actually the plainest.

The three got into the sedan chair, and Xu Ying winked at Jiang Xun: "I heard you detained Grand Tutor Shen in the palace?"

Jiang Xun mumbled vaguely: "Mm."

Xu Ping then came over and hooked an arm around his neck: "Tell us, what's the situation?"

They were not afraid of Jiang Xun.

Jiang Xun of this life was a true loner. Although he was the Emperor, he had been trapped deep in the palace since childhood. Except for his mother, he didn't know anyone else. The chief eunuch Wang An was a eunuch left by his imperial father, flawless in his work; no matter what Jiang Xun said, he would just reply with a slick "What His Majesty says is right."

Later, his mother died of illness, leaving the imperial city utterly empty. There wasn't even anyone to talk to. Only his two cousins shared a blood connection and could barely be considered close. Jiang Xun didn't bind them with etiquette and laws, rewarding them with tributes like flowing water. A whole warehouse was piled high with Suzhou embroidery, Hangzhou silk, Jian Ware, and Ru kiln porcelain; they were immensely favored.

At that time, Jiang Xun thought that because they shared bloodlines, they were his only remaining relatives in the world.

But later, when the city was breached, these two fled on horseback, and neither remembered to inform Jiang Xun, who was trapped in the palace.

Thinking of this, disgust welled up in Jiang Xun's heart. He brushed away Xu Ping's hand: "It's nothing. He knelt in front of my palace gates, insisting that I release Xue Jin. I found him an eyesore, so I could only trap him in the palace."

Xu Ying also clicked his tongue: "The Grand Secretariat is full of stubborn old fossils. I think Shen Que is also confused, perfectly fine but insisting on pleading for Xue Jin... Oh, his family also has a little fossil, that one named Shen Xiu. Didn't he enter the Censorate a while ago? Who knows what he's busy with all day, he even submitted a memorial to impeach my dad."

Xu Ying's dad was Jiang Xun's eldest uncle, Marquis Mingxuan.

Jiang Xun: "What did he impeach him for?"

Xu Ying: "I didn't ask carefully, probably something about fertile land or mansions, a bunch of messy stuff."

Jiang Xun thought to himself: 'Encroaching on fertile land, illegally destroying residential properties.'

In his past life, Shen Xiu had also submitted a memorial, but Jiang Xun couldn't even recognize all the characters, let alone understand it. He didn't understand what those simple eight characters meant behind the scenes, nor how many people had lost their homes and been displaced because of it.

He only remembered that he felt Shen Xiu was bullying his cousin and looking down on him as the Emperor, so he publicly reprimanded him in court, ordered him slapped, and caned.

Shen Xiu was young and aggressive, and Shen Que was deep in the palace, so no one stopped him. He then contradicted Jiang Xun to his face, talking about allusions to "Jie of Xia and Zhou of Shang."

Jiang Xun hated pedantic scholars the most, and hated it even more when they muttered things he couldn't understand. Thus, Shen Xiu was thrown into prison, and Shen Que knelt in the palace day and night again.

Xu Ping: "If you ask me, it's just that those scions of noble families look down on us, thinking we don't deserve to share the court with them... Eh, Your Majesty, wouldn't you say so?"

Jiang Xun gave them a light glance: "Yes."

As they talked, the carriage had already stopped outside the Red Pavilion. Entertainment options in ancient times were scarce, mostly just watching plays and listening to tunes. The three went up to a private room on the second floor. Xu Ping ordered singing girls. Jiang Xun reclined in his chair and listened for a while, took two sips of wine, and suddenly said, "I'm stepping out for a bit."

Xu Ping looked at him, and Jiang Xun stood up, looking as if he couldn't handle the alcohol: "I saw a singing girl at the door, I'm going to take a look."

Xu Ying was surprised: "Since when were you interested in singing girls?"

Jiang Xun: "Just happened to see her, she looked pretty good."

The two then stopped trying to hold him back.

Jiang Xun left the room by himself, but didn't stay in the pavilion. Instead, he found the woman in charge and asked for a veiled hat. In a place like the Red Pavilion, there were always some guests who didn't want to show their faces, so they always kept veiled hats on hand.

Jiang Xun thanked her and went out through the back door.

The veiled hat was a small hat with veils hanging from its four corners. The white gauze just reached past his knees, capable of hiding his face and most of his clothing. Jiang Xun's figure was tall and slender, and his attire of a wealthy young master in pure white woven with silver threads complemented the white gauze perfectly.

He fastened the veiled hat and went straight to the relay station.

The relay station was the official place for transmitting messages. The station was equipped with fine horses, and guards stood watch at the door.

The guard watched Jiang Xun from afar. Seeing his strange attire that hid his face, he barred his way with a long staff and frowned: "No entry for idlers."

Jiang Xun wasn't annoyed. He fished a token out of his sleeve: "Palace business, please make an exception."

The token was something Jiang Xun had filched from Wang An. Powerful eunuchs in the palace all had one to facilitate their work, but they were unsigned and couldn't be traced back to a specific source.

The guard was taken aback and hurriedly led him inside. Jiang Xun took out the letter from his sleeve: "Please deliver this to Song Zhizhang, the Prefect of Lianghu."

Song Zhizhang was also a capable minister with quite a reputation in history. Later, he joined Xue Jin and achieved considerable success. He wasn't a corrupt or decadent person, so Jiang Xun could use him with peace of mind.

During this period in history, Song Zhizhang was probably racking his brains over water control. He was a capable minister, but the technological level of this era was vastly different from later generations. Although Song was well-read in poetry and literature, his understanding of hydrology and geography was very limited. It might not even match that of a high school student in modern times, let alone Jiang Xun, who had specifically paid attention to it. There were many things Song couldn't consider that Jiang Xun needed to point out.

In a hurry, the letter was only hastily wrapped in rice paper. The guard hesitated for a moment: "Just sending it over like this, won't you sign your name?"

"..."

Jiang Xun was a 'world-famous' great tyrant. Of course, he didn't dare to write his name. He pinched his nose through the veil, feeling a bit guilty: "Must I write a name?"

The guard then laughed: "Young Master, Lord Song is a Prefect, a local high-ranking official of the fourth rank. If you don't write a name and I inexplicably send something over, what if there are some unpleasant words and Prefect Song wants to hold someone accountable? Who takes the blame?"

That was indeed the logic. Jiang Xun pondered for a moment, picked up a brush, and wrote on the envelope: "Respectfully yours, Xun."

After his reincarnation, he was named Jiang Xun (洵).

Jiang was the national surname. Jiang Xun didn't dare to write it, so he only signed his given name.

Ever since transmigrating back to Great Wei, past events dissipated like clouds and smoke, and even his memories of his past life were gradually blurring. When Jiang Xun woke up from midnight dreams, he almost forgot that he had attended high school and had lived in another space-time.

This character "Xun" was his final proof.

The guard asked again: "Does Young Master have any proof? Just a single letter probably won't reach Prefect Song's hands."

Prefect Song was, after all, the head of a state, holding high position and heavy power. If he had to read letters written by any random Tom, Dick, or Harry, he'd probably die of exhaustion.

"No need to worry, I've prepared something." Jiang Xun fished out a small silver ingot from his money pouch: "Give this to him together with it."

The silver ingot was small and exquisite. The carvings on it were delicate and beautiful, and a small 'Ji' was engraved on the bottom.

This thing wasn't ordinary silver; it was used by the imperial palace for rewarding people during festivals and holidays. Although it was silver money, it was an imperial item and couldn't circulate among the common people. It couldn't be spent; it only had commemorative value and no practical use, somewhat like modern commemorative coins.

Being able to obtain this silver indicated that the possessor had a noble status and had contact with the royal family. However, the Emperor rewarded no less than eight hundred, if not a thousand, small silver pieces every year. For the full-moon or first-year celebrations of important ministers' children, or when royal relatives visited the palace, they would be given a handful to play with. Therefore, it was impossible to trace exactly who it belonged to.

The guard took the silver ingot, took one look, and could tell Jiang Xun's status was extraordinary, someone from the palace. He hurriedly took the letter and gave orders to have the fastest horse in the station deliver it.

The relay station did not dare to delay a noble's letter. Whipping their fast horses, it was delivered to Song Zhizhang's residence in two days' time.

Song Zhizhang was currently stressed and exhausted.

He had reported the situation in Lianghu to the imperial court, but there had been no news. Seeing the impending natural disasters, water control was imminent. With such an urgent matter at hand, yet lacking a plan of action, he was so anxious that two blisters popped up on his lips.

Worrying was useless; he still had to wait for the court's reply. Song Zhizhang drowned his sorrows in alcohol, gathering a group of local scholars in his mansion to drink, make merry, and numb his nerves.

When the relay station delivered the letter, the banquet was in full swing.

Song Zhizhang had matters on his mind and was drinking until his face was flushed. The servant respectfully presented the letter. He only took one glance before waving it away, drunkenly saying: "Xun? I don't know anyone named Xun. This person doesn't even sign their full name, yet dares to write to me?"

He waved his hand impatiently at the servant: "Go away, I'm not reading it."

Instead, it was a scholar in the mansion who saw the small silver ingot first and pressed Song Zhizhang down: "Lord Song, wait."

He picked up the silver ingot, twirled it between his fingertips, and felt the intaglio-carved 'Ji' character on the back of the silver. The font was exquisitely carved, and the patterns were intricate and complex.

That scholar was quite knowledgeable: "Lord Song, this silver comes from the palace. You'd better read the letter."

"The palace?" Song Zhizhang was suspicious: "I've been holding office in Lianghu for a long time, I don't have any friends from the palace."

He took the letter, feeling a bit dismissive inwardly. Officials in the capital had their own set of methods for sending documents; they never had them sent via relay stations like this.

Song Zhizhang unfolded the letter, smoothed out the thick stack of paper, and narrowed his eyes: "Let me see what's written here..."

As he read, Song Zhizhang's brows knitted tighter and tighter. Gripping the letter pages in his hands, he flipped through them one by one. His sitting posture unconsciously straightened up, and he sobered up halfway.

A strategist in the mansion asked curiously: "Lord Song, what's written there?"

Song Zhizhang didn't answer, only staring at the letter. The strategist leaned over and happened to see the last page of the letter. He frowned: "This person's handwriting is rather wild and unrestrained."

Jiang Xun had been avoiding Wang An while writing the letter, and was pressed for time. The first few pages were neat and tidy, while the last few pages flew like dragons and danced like phoenixes, extremely frantic. He had crossed out several mistakes with ink, making it pitch black and not very aesthetically pleasing.

Normally, if he saw this kind of document, the strategist would disdain reading it. Today, however, he was full of interest and carefully read it right from Song Zhizhang's hands.

In a length of several thousand words, Jiang Xun concisely and fundamentally stated the problems of floods and droughts in Lianghu of later generations and their governance methods. This included which places needed to return farmland to lakes, which places needed to build canals, and which places needed to guard against river course changes. Every detail, big or small, was pointed out one by one.

These parts all came from historical materials of later generations. During the flood period in Lianghu Prefecture, twenty or thirty prefects were replaced. Who did what, and which measures were effective, Jiang Xun knew like the back of his hand.

After that, he outlined the post-disaster governance work. This part also drew on the experience of later generations, including the resettlement of disaster victims, the distribution of food, the required silver money, and so on.

Finally, based on the historical trend of the Little Ice Age, Jiang Xun even estimated the periods and severity of upcoming rainstorms and droughts in Lianghu. He asked Song Zhizhang to build canals and divert water early on. He even detailed exactly how to build those canals and how to divert the water.

Unlike articles that sang praises or flattered, Jiang Xun's piece was full of practical, hard facts from beginning to end. Within a few thousand words, it swept away all of Song Zhizhang's confusion and bewilderment. If he was previously completely ignorant about water control and disaster relief, this letter was like giving him an outline. What he needed to do for the next three or even five years was crystal clear.

As for how to fill in the details of the outline, that would require Prefect Song to explore on his own.

In the face of such practical content, messy handwriting, numerous corrections, weird phrasing, and poor choice of words were all insignificant matters.

The strategist sighed in admiration: "Who exactly is this Master Xun? I wasn't aware the court had produced such a great talent."

Song Zhizhang looked at the thin letter paper in his hands and read the words over and over again. His expression went from solemn to entranced, and then he waved his hand: "Quick, fetch my brush and ink."

The strategist: "You're going to?"

Song Zhizhang rolled up his sleeves: "I must submit another memorial to the court, especially to Grand Tutor Shen, to discuss the contents of this letter."