Rise of a Lonely City: From Exiled Prince to Ruler of the Nine Provinces

In September, the weather in the North can change in an instant.

Just a few days ago, the sun was shining brightly, and people were getting sunburned and their skin was peeling. Overnight, a northerly wind blew, and the temperature plummeted.

When I woke up in the early morning, a thin layer of frost had formed on the ground, shimmering in the morning sun.

Xiao Chen stood on the edge of the field, exhaling a puff of white breath.

"Frost has fallen," he murmured.

Beside him, old farmer Chen Bo, his back hunched, grabbed a handful of soil and rubbed it between his fingers: "It's time. Frost-covered wheat is most vulnerable to freezing; once frost hits, the grains fall off. We have to harvest it quickly."

Looking out, three thousand acres of frost-covered wheat stretch out in a golden expanse.

The heavy ears of wheat drooped their heads, swaying gently in the morning breeze.

This is the largest planting operation in the history of Hanyuan City, and the hope for more than 3,000 people for one season.

"The harvest begins tomorrow," Xiao Chen said.

"tomorrow?"

Uncle Chen was taken aback. "Your Highness, we don't have enough manpower for three thousand mu of land. At most, we have less than a thousand people who can work in the fields. Each person can harvest three mu, which would take three days. What if it rains..."

"Then let's add more people."

Xiao Chen said decisively, "The Military Affairs Department and the Construction Department, except for the necessary guards and craftsmen, shall all be deployed to the ground. All those who can move in the Civil Affairs Department shall also be deployed to the ground. I will personally lead the way."

"this……"

Uncle Chen hesitated, "Your Highness, your status is so noble, how could you..."

"In the Cold Abyss, there are no princes, only farmers."

Xiao Chen interrupted him, "Go and pass on the order. Tomorrow at dawn, everyone, bring your sickles, ropes, and carrying poles, and assemble in the fields. For every mu (unit of land area) harvested, you'll earn ten work points. The more you harvest, the more bonus you'll receive."

"Yes!" Uncle Chen said no more and turned to relay the order.

The news caused a sensation throughout the city.

Did the prince personally lead the wheat harvest?

This was unheard of in the Great Xia Dynasty. Which of the princes and grandsons didn't live a life of luxury, never lifting a finger to lift a finger?

But Prince Jingbei is different. He has been in Hanyuan for three months. He has moved stones to build the city wall, wielded a pickaxe to mine coal, and now he is going to harvest wheat in the fields.

"Your Highness... is just like us." An old man wiped away his tears.

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's do it!"

"Yes, let's do it! We can't let the Prince be the only one working hard!"

The next day, before dawn, the fields were filled with people.

A dense, dark mass of more than two thousand people.

Apart from the necessary guards and craftsmen, everyone who could come came.

Men, women, the elderly, and teenagers—everyone carried a tool in their hands: if they didn't have a sickle, they used a machete, a kitchen knife, or even a sharpened piece of iron.

Xiao Chen also arrived.

He changed into a coarse cloth outfit, with the trousers rolled up to his knees, and held a brand-new sickle in his hand—it was specially made for him by the Bureau of Works; although rough, it was sharp.

"Fellow villagers," he said, standing on the edge of the field, his voice carrying far in the morning breeze, "today, we harvest the wheat. This wheat is the result of our hard work this season, our food for the winter, and the lifeblood of our Hanyuan City. Therefore, not a single grain can be wasted, not a single piece can be lost."

He paused, then raised his voice: "I, Xiao Chen, will work alongside everyone today. You can all supervise how much I do. If I slack off, feel free to scold me. But I believe that there isn't a single coward among us Han Yuan people!"

"No!" the crowd shouted in unison.

"Alright!" Xiao Chen swung his sickle. "Let's begin!"

"Start the harvest—!"

More than two thousand people surged into the wheat field like a tide.

Swish—swish—swish—

The sound of sickles cutting through wheat stalks rose and fell. Men cut in front, women tied behind, and children picked up the fallen ears of wheat. The old people, unable to do the heavy work, sat on the edge of the field, rubbing the ears of wheat off and stuffing them into sacks.

Xiao Chen bent over, slicing away with the sickle, one cut at a time. His movements weren't exactly practiced, but they were steady. Sweat quickly soaked his back, and blisters formed on his hands. The blisters burst, bleeding and staining the sickle handle red. But he didn't stop.

Wang Dashan, Zhao Tie, and Zhang Meng, these generals, were also in the fields. They were much more skilled than Xiao Chen, after all, they all came from poor backgrounds and had done farm work when they were young. Although Zhang Meng came from a military family, his father died early and his family fell into poverty, so he had also suffered hardships.

Han Lie was getting old and couldn't do the work anymore, so he took charge of scheduling. If there weren't enough people for a particular field, he would send others over. If there were too many bundles of wheat in a field that couldn't be transported, he would organize people to move them.

Uncle Fu, along with several women, set up a large pot at the edge of the field to cook porridge and steam buns. They worked until noon, and each person received a bowl of thick porridge, two steamed buns, and a piece of pickled vegetable. Although simple, it was enough to fill them up.

Eat and then get back to work.

From sunrise to sunset, no one slacks off.

By nightfall, half of the three thousand acres of wheat fields had been harvested.

"Let's keep going tomorrow!" Xiao Chen straightened up, feeling a sharp pain in his back as if it were broken, his hands burning and covered in cuts. But he smiled, "Today, we harvested 1,500 mu! Amazing!"

The crowd erupted in cheers.

Although it was tiring and tough, looking at those piles of golden wheat sheaves brought me a sense of peace.

The second day, the third day.

All three thousand mu of frost-covered wheat have been harvested.

On the threshing floor, stacks of wheat were piled up like mountains. Threshing, winnowing, and bagging kept them busy for three more days.

When the last bag of wheat was weighed, everyone held their breath.

Uncle Chen held the abacus, his hands trembling as he calculated. After three calculations, he looked up, tears streaming down his face: "Your Highness... three thousand mu of land, total yield... four thousand five hundred shi!"

Four thousand five hundred shi!

The average yield was 1.5 shi per mu, reaching the limit of frost-covered wheat!

As previously agreed, the profits would be split 20/80 – the city lord's mansion would receive 20%, or 900 shi (a unit of dry measure), while the farmers would retain 80%, or 3,600 shi.

Three thousand six hundred bushels of grain were distributed among more than a thousand households, with each household receiving more than three bushels. If they ate sparingly, it would be enough to last for more than half a year.

The city lord's mansion has 900 shi of grain, plus the remaining grain, enough to last until next spring.

Hanyuan City finally has its own food!

"Long live!"

"Long live the Prince!"

"Long live Han Yuan!"

The cheers were deafening.

Xiao Chen smiled too, but as he smiled, his eyes welled up with tears.

For the past three months, he had been living in constant fear and sleepless nights, worried that there would be a problem with the food supply. Now, he can finally breathe a sigh of relief.

"Uncle Chen," he said to Uncle Chen, "you organize people to distribute the grain. Distribute it by household, by work points, fairly and justly, so that no one takes more than their share and no one takes less than their share."

"Yes!" Uncle Chen wiped away his tears. "Your Highness, rest assured, I will certainly handle it well!"

The day the grain was distributed, Hanyuan City was like celebrating the New Year.

The aroma of cooked rice wafted from every household—not thin porridge, but whole rice! Not wild vegetables, but real rice! Children squatted by the door, bowls in hand, eating with gusto. The elderly ate and wept, saying they had never eaten so much in their lives.

Standing on the city wall, Xiao Chen watched the wisps of smoke rising from the chimneys and smelled the aroma of food filling the air, a great sense of accomplishment welled up in his heart.

This was created by him.

This city, these people, the smoke from the chimneys, the aroma of the food.

They're all his.

"Your Highness," Zhang Meng walked over and said in a low voice, "Zhou Yong is on a hunger strike in the dungeon, saying he wants to see you."

The smile on Xiao Chen's face faded.

Zhou Yong.

The culprit who nearly caused Han Yuan to run out of food has been imprisoned for over a month. It's time to deal with him.

"Bring him to see me."

In the dungeon, Zhou Yong was so thin he was unrecognizable.

He hadn't seen the light of day for over a month, eating coarse grains and drinking cold water, and was still injured. The former border guard was now like a beggar.

Upon seeing Xiao Chen, he rushed to the prison gate and cried out hoarsely, "Your Highness! Your Highness, spare my life! I've said everything I could say, done everything I could do, please give me a way out!"

Xiao Chen sat in the chair, quietly watching him.

"Zhou Yong, you robbed the imperial grain relief and colluded with the grasslands. According to the law, you should be executed."

"This humble general knows his crime! This humble general knows his crime!" Zhou Yong kowtowed repeatedly, "But this humble general has redeemed himself through meritorious service! This humble general confessed to the Fourth Prince's misdeeds and handed over the carrier pigeons, Your Highness..."

"That's why I've kept you alive until now," Xiao Chen interrupted him. "But the crimes you've committed are too great. Not killing you would hardly appease public anger. But killing you would be a pity."

Zhou Yong sensed the hidden meaning in the words, and hope ignited in his eyes: "Your Highness... Your Highness, what are your orders? This humble general will do anything, even at the cost of his life!"

Xiao Chen looked at him for a long time before slowly saying, "I can give you a way out. But this way will not be easy."

"What road?"

"Go to the grasslands," Xiao Chen said. "Don't you have connections with the Canglang tribe? I'll send you there. Tell Harbala that the Fourth Prince wanted to kill you to silence you, and that I saved you. You're willing to join the Canglang tribe and serve them."

Zhou Yong was stunned.

Go to the grasslands? Seek refuge with the Canglang tribe?

Is this... a spy?

"Your Highness wants this humble general to..."

"Yes." Xiao Chen nodded. "I want you to gain a foothold in the Canglang tribe and earn Harbala's trust. Then, report to me everything the Canglang tribe does."

"This..." Zhou Yong hesitated, "What if we get discovered..."

"If I find out, you die," Xiao Chen said calmly. "If you don't go, you die right now. Choose one."

Zhou Yong gritted his teeth: "This subordinate...this subordinate will go!"

"Alright." Xiao Chen stood up. "I will arrange for someone to escort you out of the pass. Once you reach the grasslands, I will teach you what to say and what to do. But remember—"

He walked to the prison gate, staring into Zhou Yong's eyes: "Your whole family is still in the capital. If you dare to betray me, or outwardly comply but inwardly defy me, I guarantee that none of them will survive."

Zhou Yong trembled violently: "This humble general...this humble general dares not!"

"I doubt you'd dare." Xiao Chen turned around. "Get ready, we're leaving in three days."

After dealing with Zhou Yong, Xiao Chen returned to the courtroom.

Han Lie was already waiting for him.

"Does Your Highness really intend to send Zhou Yong to the grasslands?" Han Lie asked.

"What can we do if we don't release him?" Xiao Chen smiled bitterly. "If we kill him, Fourth Brother will lose his lead. Keeping him alive is a waste of food. Sending him to the grasslands might at least give him some use."

"But what if he really does side with the steppe people..."

"He won't," Xiao Chen said confidently. "His whole family is in the capital, in Fourth Brother's hands. If he dares to betray me, Fourth Brother will be the first to kill his entire family. The only way he can protect his family is to obediently become my spy."

Han Lie exclaimed in admiration, "Your Highness has considered everything thoroughly."

"There's no other way." Xiao Chen sat down and rubbed his temples. "We can't keep being passive on the grasslands. We need to have our own eyes and ears. Zhou Yong may not be very useful, but he's still a pawn."

"So, what are Your Highness's plans next?"

"Next," Xiao Chen's eyes flashed with a sharp light, "it's time to make money."

"make money?"

"That's right." Xiao Chen spread out the map. "Hanyuan has food now, so they won't starve for the time being. But if we want to develop, food alone isn't enough; we also need money. With money, we can buy salt, cloth, iron, and everything else we need."

"Does Your Highness want to start a business?"

"No," Xiao Chen shook his head, "I want to start a mine."

"Mining?" Han Lie was taken aback. "Aren't coal and iron mines already in operation?"

"That's not enough." Xiao Chen tapped his finger on the map. "I need to mine on a large scale. Coal isn't just for heating; it can be used to smelt iron and sell for money. Iron isn't just for making farm tools; it can be used to forge weapons and sell for money."

He paused, then looked at Han Lie: "Old Han, tell me, how much do you think a truckload of coal can sell for in Yulin Town?"

Han Lie thought for a moment: "Salt production in Yulin Town requires a lot of coal. A cartload of coal, about 500 catties, can be sold for... two taels of silver."

"What about that cartload of iron?"

"Iron is more valuable. A cartload of iron can sell for ten taels of silver."

Xiao Chen did the math.

The coal mine now produces 1,000 catties a day, 30,000 catties a month, which is equivalent to 60 cartloads. If all of it is sold, it will yield 120 taels of silver.

Iron ore production is low now, only ten cartloads a month. If we sell them all, we can get one hundred taels.

In total, it amounts to 220 taels a month.

It may not seem like much, but it's pure profit. Moreover, production will increase as mining scales up.

"But there's a problem," Han Lie said. "We don't have a caravan. We can't transport much by oxcart or donkey cart. Besides, the roads are unsafe; there are bandits and horse thieves, and we might even be attacked by the Dingbei Pass."

"A transport convoy can be formed," Xiao Chen said. "After the autumn harvest, when farmers are at their off-season, we can organize people to run transport services. For security, the Jingbei Battalion can provide escorts. As for Dingbei Pass..."

He sneered, "Zhou Yong's gone, so who's in charge of Dingbei Pass now?"

"Li Mao, the deputy general, is Zhou Yong's confidant."

"That makes things easier," Xiao Chen said. "Zhou Yong has 'disappeared,' so Li Mao must be panicking. We'll send someone to 'offer condolences,' give him some gifts, and say that we'd like him to make things easier for our caravans passing through the area in the future. He won't dare refuse."

Han Lie understood.

This is to open up trade routes.

"But right now, we don't have the capital," Han Lie said. "Setting up a car fleet costs money, navigating relationships costs money, and giving gifts costs money."

"I have the capital." Xiao Chen took out a silver note from his pocket. "Although the thousand taels of silver sent by the imperial court were withheld, there are still eight hundred taels left. Take it out and use it first."

"But that's disaster relief money..."

"If used for the right purpose, it would be disaster relief," Xiao Chen said. "Once the caravan is set up, it can make money. With that money, we can buy more food and feed more people. This is more effective than simply handing out money."

Han Lie had nothing to say.

The prince's mind works too fast. He can't keep up.

"Then...how exactly do we do it?"

"It's a three-step process," Xiao Chen said, counting on his fingers. "First, we'll assemble a caravan. We'll select fifty strong men, twenty large carts, and fifty head of livestock. You'll lead the caravan to Yulin Town, sell the coal, and bring back salt."

"The second step is to cultivate relationships. I'll have Zhang Meng accompany you to Dingbeiguan to meet Li Mao. Give him gifts as appropriate, and say the right things. Make sure he gives his approval."

"The third step," Xiao Chen's eyes flashed with a sharp light, "is to allow us to sell more than just coal and iron once the trade routes are open. We can also buy furs and horses from the grasslands, and sell silk and porcelain from the south. Hanyuan will become the commercial center of the northern border."

Trade center.

These four words made Han Lie's heart race.

If this can truly be achieved, then the Cold Abyss will truly come alive. It will no longer be a desolate, frigid land, but a treasure trove accessible from all directions.

"I am... I am so old, how can I still do such a big thing?" Han Lie's voice trembled.

"Yes, I can." Xiao Chen looked at him. "Old Han, you've been in the Northern Territory for forty years. You know the people and the land well. This matter can only be handled by you."

Han Lie took a deep breath and knelt on one knee: "Since Your Highness trusts me so much, I will risk my old life to get this done!"

"Alright." Xiao Chen helped him up. "Then it's settled. The caravan will depart in three days."

Three days later, the first caravan from Hanyuan City was ready to set off.

Twenty large carts, loaded with coal. Fifty head of livestock—oxen, donkeys, and mules—all gathered from various places over the past few months. Fifty men, all carefully selected, strong, capable, and skilled at driving.

Han Lie led the team, with Zhang Meng providing escort.

Xiao Chen personally escorted him to the city gate.

"Old Han, take care on your journey." He handed over a water pouch. "There's wine in here. Take a sip if it gets cold to warm yourself up."

Han Lie took it, his eyes reddening: "Your Highness, rest assured, I will definitely get this done."

"Zhang Meng."

"Your subordinate is here!"

"Protect Old Man Han, protect the caravan. If trouble arises, talk it out if you can, if you can't reach an agreement... then fight. But remember, our goal is to do business, not to wage war."

"Understood, sir!"

"Let's go."

The caravan slowly set off, heading towards Yulin Town.

Xiao Chen stood on the city wall, watching them go until they became small black dots and disappeared on the horizon.

This is yet another move he's made.

With the trade routes open, the cold abyss was filled with fresh water.

Only with fresh water can this city truly come alive.

"Your Highness," Wang Dashan walked over, "Zhou Yong has been sent away. As you instructed, he was given some dry rations and a horse, and he was sent to the grasslands on his own."

"Okay." Xiao Chen nodded. "Send someone to follow him from a distance and see if he really went to the grasslands. If he did, bring him back. If not..."

"Understood, sir." A murderous glint flashed in Wang Dashan's eyes.

"Also," Xiao Chen turned around, "the autumn harvest is over, it's time to train the troops. Starting tomorrow, the Jingbei Battalion and the Hanyuan Battalion will intensify their training. Winter is coming soon, the grassland people should be arriving soon."

"yes!"

A cold wind is starting to blow.

Winter is coming again in the North.

But this year's Hanyuan is different from previous years.

With food, city walls, and an army.

There was also a newly established trade route.