Volume One: The Young Monk Returns to Secular Life Chapter Sixty-Nine: Deadlock (IV)

Elder Huiren walked with urgency in his steps. As soon as he entered the council hall, he called out loudly, “Lord Qin, something terrible has happened…”

“Master Huiren, what has you so flustered?” Qin Shirong’s brows were tightly knitted as he asked.

“Yesterday, I told you about the Chen siblings who helped transport several hundred loads of grain, prepared to be sent to the disaster relief camp today… But early this morning, I discovered that all of it had been sold off by a wayward disciple from the temple!” Elder Huiren sighed as he spoke.

“Is that so?” Qin Shirong’s expression darkened. He continued, “The situation is dire… There are simply too many refugees… The imperial relief grain cannot possibly arrive so soon…”

“I’m well aware how vital this grain is, but… ah… that wayward disciple… We should never have allowed him to join us…” Elder Huiren sighed.

“Who was it? Could it be…?” Qin Shirong glanced at Elder Huiren, his brows furrowed.

“Yes… It’s Xiao Yan, the one who wrote those pamphlets!” Elder Huiren said angrily.

“Xiao Yan? He wrote the pamphlets as well? This man… truly inscrutable…” Qin Shirong was taken aback, then slowly asked, “Did he say why he did this?”

“Well… He spent all the money from selling the rice to buy rice bran…” Elder Huiren hesitated.

“Rice bran? He’s… I see now…” Qin Shirong gently tapped the table, speaking quietly.

“But rice bran is for animals! How can people eat it?” Elder Huiren was somewhat exasperated.

“Let me ask you, if you’re on the brink of starvation… not a single wild grass or tree bark to be found for a hundred miles… Do you still care about dignity, or simply survival?” Qin Shirong shook his head and continued, “Do you know, when the government distributes porridge or grain, how many in the queue are actual refugees? I know, more than half aren’t genuine victims—they’re just sent by wealthy families to snatch grain… Ha… And there’s nothing you can do about it!”

“If we switch to rice bran… then only true refugees would line up!” Elder Huiren suddenly understood.

“It’s a clever tactic… but it’s not a long-term solution…” Qin Shirong nodded and continued, “Moreover, if people eat too much rice bran… they’ll die all the same…”

“Alas… What are we to do?” Elder Huiren asked.

“Let’s hope Chen Bufan achieves some results. Only if grain prices stabilize will refugee numbers stop surging… We just need to endure awhile longer; once the imperial relief grain arrives, everything will be manageable.” Qin Shirong shook his head.

“Indeed, I’ll go help Master Chen myself…” Elder Huiren nodded quickly.

“I originally thought that anyone capable of writing such pamphlets must be extraordinary, but… while he has ideas, they’re somewhat childish… He still lacks a broader perspective…” Qin Shirong sighed.

“That disciple is still young; his little schemes are unlikely to catch the eye of those in power…”

At this, Elder Huiren recalled what Xiao Yan had said that day.

...

“Advise him not to act recklessly… Beware the mudslides…”

...

“Master Huiren? What’s the matter?” Qin Shirong saw Elder Huiren lost in thought and asked with concern.

“Oh… It’s nothing… These trifling matters are not worth mentioning. I’ll take my leave now…” Elder Huiren cupped his hands and departed.

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Qin Xuanyuan’s mood was complicated as she made her way home.

The matter of “Guanyin Clay” and the death of the little girl weighed heavily on her, souring her spirits.

The jolting carriage only added to her unease.

She pursed her lips and took out the disaster relief pamphlet from her bosom.

To her surprise, the pamphlet brought her a sense of calm.

It was through her insistence that her father, Qin Shirong, had read the pamphlet, which led to its actual implementation.

In truth, the day the results became clear, Qin Xuanyuan was happier than anyone.

Indirectly, she felt she shared in the pamphlet’s success.

Over the past few days, she’d also asked Qin Shirong about its author, but he too was unable to answer.

So she borrowed the original pamphlet, reading it over and over. The more she read, the more she felt it was meticulously considered, deepening her curiosity about its writer.

“What kind of person could write such a pamphlet?” Qin Xuanyuan murmured softly, flipping through it again.

But… the handwriting was truly ugly…

Hmm?

Suddenly, a sense of familiarity flashed in her mind…

Looking closer, she thought she’d seen this handwriting somewhere before…

As the daughter of the Minister’s household, Qin Xuanyuan had attended many poetic gatherings, getting to know plenty of talented scholars.

Yet none of them had handwriting as peculiarly bad as this.

Unable to recall, she stopped pondering.

Back home, she saw Qin Shirong busy with documents and didn’t disturb him, quietly retiring to her chamber.

While organizing her books, a sheet of rice paper slipped from the desk and fluttered to the floor.

Qin Xuanyuan frowned slightly, memory instantly awakened.

This rice paper had been brought back by her maid, who’d delivered a letter to Xiao Yan.

She remembered how the maid Jiang Xiaoyue had said, “That Xiao Yan is a bad monk, always thinking of drinking, and he wrote a poem about how to drink… Imagine, a monk with nothing but drinking on his mind! So miss, you mustn’t marry him…”

With that, Jiang Xiaoyue handed the rice paper to Qin Xuanyuan, saying, “Here, see for yourself, miss…”

Back then, Qin Xuanyuan had glanced at it casually, laughed it off, and set it aside.

Now, recalling, she realized the handwriting was just as ugly…

“Hmm?” She frowned slightly, intending to pick up the rice paper, but shook her head.

Impossible… How could it be?

A breeze from outside swept in, catching the rice paper and sending it drifting toward the window.

Qin Xuanyuan reached out to grab it, but it flew outside.

“The handwriting…”

By chance, from her angle, she could see the characters on the paper…

This…

Qin Xuanyuan stared in disbelief as the rice paper landed outside the window…

“Knock knock knock!”

Hurried footsteps in the corridor made Qin Shirong, engrossed in his paperwork, frown.

“Xuanyuan, are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Father.”

Qin Xuanyuan replied, already outside picking up the rice paper.

The handwriting… identically ugly…

Could it really be him?

“Invitation to Wine? That’s a Music Bureau poem…” Qin Xuanyuan frowned.

She remembered what her maid had said, that the little monk only cared for drinking, and her cheeks flushed.

“That girl… I’ll have to punish her with some poetry copying…” Qin Xuanyuan muttered.

But what occupied her thoughts now was that the pamphlet was written by Xiao Yan?

Moreover, thinking it through… it seemed… this Xiao Yan was actually her betrothed?

At this, Qin Xuanyuan’s whole face turned crimson.

She lowered her gaze to read the poem on the rice paper, softly reciting, “Don’t you see, the waters of the Yellow River come from the heavens, surging to the sea, never to return… When life is at its peak, enjoy it to the fullest, don’t let the golden goblet face the moon empty. Heaven gave me talent for a purpose; a thousand gold coins spent will return again… Invitation to Wine, let the cup not cease…”

“I’ve never heard this poem before…” Qin Xuanyuan had always loved poetry since childhood, and the poems she’d read and recited were no fewer than those of great scholars.

Yet she’d never encountered verses like these…

But the lines were grand and confident, filled with pride and independence…

Thinking of her encounters with Xiao Yan, he truly was such a person…

Could it be that Xiao Yan was a gifted scholar? That he wrote this poem?

The poem carried a sense of frustration and unfulfilled ambition… Was he aiming for a government post?

Just then, Qin Shirong’s voice called from the study, interrupting her thoughts, “Xuanyuan, what are you mumbling out there?”

“Oh, Father, I’m alright.”

“Come in and help me grind the ink…”

“Yes, coming…”

Qin Xuanyuan carefully folded the rice paper, tucked it into her bosom, and returned inside.

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