Chapter 137: Chapter 136. The river is not stormy.

Chapter 136.

After the Dowager Empress had taken her medicine and retired for rest, Yin Chengyu and Xue Shu bid their farewells and departed together.

Yin Chengyu strode ahead, his confident pace naturally commanding the path. Xue Shu initially kept half a step behind, shadowing him closely. Yet, as they continued, their strides began to align, shoulders brushing with every step, the space between them dissolving into an unspoken intimacy. Yin Chengyu could feel the faint heat of Xue Shu’s skin beneath the cool fabric of his robes—a charged proximity impossible to ignore.

Glancing sideways, Yin Chengyu caught Xue Shu watching him. That gaze was searing, brimming with audacity and unrestrained aggression. Yet, constrained by the ceremonial retinue trailing them, Xue Shu maintained a precarious semblance of restraint, though his intentions burned through the façade.

Yin Chengyu's lips curved into an elusive smirk.

Noticing the fleeting lift of his mouth, Xue Shu’s sharp, narrow eyes narrowed further. As they passed through Jingyun Gate, Xue Shu paused and coolly dismissed the retinue with a curt, “Wait here.” Without awaiting acknowledgment, he followed Yin Chengyu alone, his steps quick and deliberate.

Jingyun Gate lay southwest of Fengxian Hall, leading to the expansive square before Qianqing Gate. Guards were stationed across the grounds, but the distance between them left the space cloaked in a deceptive solitude. Xue Shu exploited this, his stride determined as he closed the gap, cornering Yin Chengyu against a pavilion column, his imposing frame boxing him in.

Yin Chengyu, unperturbed, merely raised an eyebrow, as if he had anticipated this move.

Xue Shu leaned down, his breath scorching, lips hovering just above Yin Chengyu’s cheek and the edge of his mouth. His approach was maddeningly deliberate, a predator savoring his prey. Instead of claiming him outright, he teased, his lips barely grazing, a faint and tantalizing touch that lingered like a cruel promise.

“I’ve never been happier,” Xue Shu murmured, his voice roughened by restrained fervor. “Never in my life.”

Finally, he pressed against Yin Chengyu’s lips—those lush, swollen, ridiculously hot lips. It wasn't some sloppy, rushed grab, no. Yet even then, he didn’t ravage; he traced their shape, savoring every curve, his slow movements conveying a reverence far more dangerous than outright possession. It was a sensation that burned not with conquest, but with an insidious, consuming desire.

Yin Chengyu’s breathing hitched, his composure briefly slipping. His hand pressed against Xue Shu’s shoulder, his voice low and scolding: “Insolence.” Yet, his tone carried no true anger, only a thinly veiled tension.

Taking the admonishment as provocation, Xue Shu dared further, his teeth grazing Yin Chengyu’s lower lip—a fleeting, playful bite that left a maddening itch in its wake.

Yin Chengyu swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he locked eyes with Xue Shu, his voice dropping to a cutting whisper. “Why didn’t you tell me the Dowager Empress summoned you?”

“She didn’t make it difficult for me,” Xue Shu replied, his words muffled against Yin Chengyu’s lips, their proximity almost unbearable.

Yin Chengyu turned his head, seeking to distance himself, but Xue Shu pursued, stealing another kiss. This time, Yin Chengyu did not evade him. Their noses brushed, and their lips met in a fleeting exchange, before Yin Chengyu’s breath ghosted over Xue Shu’s ear.

“You’re clever enough to know that between you and the Empress, there’s no comparison. Both of you hold equal weight in my heart.” His elegant fingers traced Xue Shu’s jawline, grazing his ear with a deliberate intimacy. “Understand?”

Xue Shu saw his reflection in Yin Chengyu’s eyes—only himself, filling every corner of those deep, mesmerizing irises.

The joy he had suppressed in the presence of the Empress now surged forth, uncontainable and overwhelming. He tightened his grip on Yin Chengyu’s nape, pulling him into a fervent kiss that conveyed everything words could not.

The tension melted into mutual surrender, their breaths, hot and ragged, tangled together in that tight little space, a private symphony of lust. Outside, by Jingyun Gate, the whole damn entourage stood at attention, those stiff-necked soldiers with their polished boots and robotic steps, marking time in the distant square. You could practically hear the click of their heels, the only sound cutting through the charged silence.

But inside the pavilion's shadow, hidden from prying eyes, these two were locked together, skin on scorching skin. They were pressed so close, so desperate to merge, it was like they were trying to meld into a single, writhing, pulsating being. Every curve, every line, every inch of them was fused in a white-hot embrace, as if they sought to fuse into one.

Desire coursed through their veins, raw and unrestrained, as the weight of propriety crumbled between them. Xue Shu sank to his knees, his intentions unmistakable, but Yin Chengyu’s hand shot out, halting him.

Xue Shu’s eyes were bloodshot, veins bulging sharply along the side of his neck, a stark contrast against his pale skin.

Regaining a fragment of composure, Yin Chengyu’s voice was hoarse but firm. “You may have no shame, but I still require mine.”

Xue Shu hesitated, his frustration simmering in the flush of his cheeks, his pulse visible against his neck. “No one will see.”

Yin Chengyu’s foot nudged his shin lightly, a teasing reprimand laced with warning. “You’ll ruin me if you go further.”

Reluctantly, Xue Shu yielded, his breath ragged as he stood and smoothed the creases from Yin Chengyu’s robes. The atmosphere between them remained electric, their shared tension unresolved.

Suppressing the improper thoughts lingering in his mind, Yin Chengyu called for the retinue to rejoin them, his voice steady despite the turmoil beneath the surface. Together, they returned to the Yangxin Palace of Mental Cultivation, their every step charged with the unspoken blush.

*

Since the Longevity Festival, discussions of selecting an empress or taking concubines have completely ceased in court. A few noblewomen, unwilling to let the matter drop, attempted to broach the topic subtly while chatting with Empress Dowager Yu during their visits. However, the Empress Dowager skillfully and decisively shut them down, leaving no room for negotiation.

With the Emperor uninterested and the Empress Dowager indifferent, the persistent whispers finally subsided, granting Yin Chengyu a brief respite of tranquil days.

But good times are fleeting. By the end of June, catastrophic news arrived from Shandong and surrounding regions—flooding caused by a breach in the Grand Canal. Towns and villages along the riverbanks were devastated.

The Grand Canal, a critical artery connecting the north and south, offers unparalleled convenience and economic benefits to the regions it traverses. However, its flaws are equally glaring. Decades of silt accumulation have raised the riverbed in the middle and lower reaches.

Without annual dredging—an effort demanding vast sums of money and manpower—the canal becomes a ticking time bomb. Heavy rains or negligence can lead to breaches, altering the river’s course and wreaking havoc.

Years of imperial indulgence and successive natural disasters have left the treasury depleted. Often, funds are patched together from one critical area to cover another.

The late emperor’s disregard for canal maintenance, coupled with his reluctance to allocate sufficient resources, only compounded the problem. This year’s heavy rains brought matters to a head. Once again, the Grand Canal burst its banks, submerging homes, drowning livestock, and forcing entire communities to flee.

As disaster reports flooded into the capital, the court split into factions over how to respond. The Ministry of Works and the Ministry of Revenue, each led by newly appointed and fiercely capable ministers, were at the center of the conflict.

The Minister of Works argued vehemently for immediate canal repairs, emphasizing the long-term benefits. “The Grand Canal is the lifeblood of the nation! To neglect it is to render all previous efforts meaningless. If the canal becomes impassable, where will the displaced citizens along its banks go? What future do they have?” he roared, nearly stamping a hole into the floor of the Hall of Supreme Harmony.

But the Minister of Revenue, his face grim, refused to back down. “Do you think I don’t understand the canal’s importance?” he snapped. “But the treasury is empty! Resettling refugees requires funds. Repairing the canal requires funds. Everyone looks to me for silver, but there’s only so much to go around. Should we not prioritize the most urgent needs?”

The debate grew so heated that the two nearly came to blows. Were it not for intervening officials, their shouting match might have devolved into a full-scale brawl.

The truth was stark: though this year’s disasters were fewer than in past years, the empty coffers made even the smallest crisis unmanageable. Both canal repairs and refugee resettlement required enormous funds, yet the Ministry of Revenue had nothing to offer.

By the time Yin Chengyu left the hall, his head throbbed from the endless shouting. Frustrated, he adjourned the discussion without reaching a decision and dismissed both ministers. Instead, he summoned Xie Yunchuan for a private audience.

Xie Yunchuan was escorted to the Hall of Yangxin Palace by Xue Shu, who, unusually, seemed colder than usual. Typically amiable and chatty, the head eunuch barely spoke, offering only curt responses like “Mm” or “Oh.” His distant demeanor was so stark a departure that Xie Yunchuan couldn’t help but feel uneasy.

Curiosity got the better of him. “Have I somehow offended you, Overseer Xue?” he asked cautiously.

Xue Xu shot him a sidelong glance. “You have not.”

“Then why the sudden frostiness?” Xie Yunchuan pressed.

The eunuch’s lips curved into a faint smirk as he drawled, “It seems someone is jealous of our... familiarity. One must avoid arousing suspicion, after all.”

Xie Yunchuan blinked, stunned into silence. For a moment, he was tempted to ask: What ‘family member’ could a eunuch possibly have?

But he wisely bit back the remark. There were boundaries even he dared not cross. Instead, he walked on in silence, mind racing.

Who could Xue Xu’s supposed “family member” be?

The palace prohibited private pairings among eunuchs and servants. Whoever it was, they had to be someone within the palace walls. And that, for Xie Yunchuan, opened a whole new set of questions.

As he deliberated all the way to the palace, his swirling thoughts ceased only when he finally stood before the Emperor. With deliberate composure, he offered a solemn greeting.

Yin Chengyu gestured for him to sit and began discussing the fierce disputes in the court earlier that day.

From a long-term perspective, Xie Yunchuan also supported the idea of restoring the Grand Canal. Yet, ever since assuming his role and witnessing firsthand the challenges of the Ministry of Revenue, he sighed heavily and admitted, “Even the most capable housewife cannot cook without rice.”

Yin Chengyu remained silent, pushing a few ledgers toward him. “Take another look at these.”

Xie Yunchuan opened the first ledger with ease, but as he continued through the pile, his expression grew visibly grim.

These were detailed financial summaries submitted by the Ministry of Revenue, documenting the empire’s income and expenses over the years. The empire’s coffers relied overwhelmingly on land taxes, supplemented by meager revenues from military farms, salt taxes, and scant commercial taxes. The fiscal health of the nation leaned precariously on land taxes, but natural disasters and societal upheavals over the years had decimated agricultural yields.

Worse, countless officials and gentry enjoyed tax exemptions, and many farmers, seeking relief from the burden, had registered their lands under the names of these privileged classes. Over time, this erosion gutted the empire’s primary source of revenue.

When examining expenditures, Xie Yunchuan found military expenses and official salaries to be significant drains. Just the previous year, the empire spent an astronomical 3.9 million taels on military funding and 2.53 million taels on salaries.

However, what truly knotted his brows was the staggering expense labeled “Imperial Household.”

Supporting the imperial clans and feudal princes alone drained a colossal 2.1 million taels annually.

“Well?” Yin Chengyu tapped the ledgers lightly. “What do you see?”

“There are far too many issues,” Xie Yunchuan admitted candidly. “No wonder the Minister of Revenue almost came to blows with the Minister of Works in the Huangji Hall.”

The Minister of Revenue wasn’t to blame—revenue fell far short of expenditure, and the accounts were a tangled mess. Who would have guessed that just feeding and clothing the imperial clans and feudal princes swallowed over two million taels of silver annually?

This unsustainable system had its roots in the founding emperor’s policies, which were later refined by successive rulers. The founding emperor, wary of feudal lords amassing power and rebelling, had stripped them of authority, barring them from governing local affairs, raising armies, or even stepping beyond their designated territories. In exchange, they were granted extravagant stipends to keep them docile. As these titles were hereditary, the number of lords multiplied over generations, and so did the costs of maintaining them.

By now, the empire was hemorrhaging over two million taels annually on this bloated system.

If those funds could be freed, how many vital projects could be undertaken?

“To address the financial crisis, we must both increase revenue and reduce expenditure. Increasing revenue lies in commerce—land taxes cannot be raised further, as farmers are already at their limit. Commercial taxes, however, hold untapped potential. As for reducing expenditure, the key lies with the imperial household. Tens of thousands of imperial clan members idly squander resources in their fiefdoms, draining both manpower and treasury.”

These ideas were not new to Yin Chengyu; he had conceived them in his previous life. Yet back then, the empire’s decline had been so severe that most of his reforms never saw the light of day.

Xie Yunchuan’s eyes flashed with understanding. “Your Majesty means to…?”

Yin Chengyu’s slight nod confirmed his thoughts. “What I envision will undoubtedly face immense resistance. The elder statesmen in court are either too conservative or entrenched in their interests to offer genuine support. If these changes are to succeed, I’ll need sharp and untainted young officials like you to lead the charge.”

This was why Yin Chengyu had summoned Xie Yunchuan to the palace.

The treasury was on the brink of collapse, and silver had to be found. The most accessible targets were the wealthy imperial clans and feudal lords with their vast estates. Yet they were accustomed to living in luxury, complacent in their entitlements. Any attempt to alter the status quo would surely provoke fierce opposition.

But no matter how difficult, it had to be done.

Xie Yunchuan understood the Emperor’s resolve. Rising to his feet, he bowed deeply and declared, “Your subject is willing to be Your Majesty’s vanguard.”

———TN:

Xue Shu shoved his hands in his pockets, cocky and cool. Chin up, he drawled, "Let's make one thing crystal clear: no fucking around." His eyes flashed, a smirk playing on his lips.

Damn, he knew he was hot.