Governing the country, enriching the people, an unparalleled imperial tutor

Three days after the Northern Di retreated, the city gates of Jizhou were completely opened.

After the dark clouds that had weighed on the people's hearts for days dissipated, the streets became busier day by day. Shops that had been closed for more than half a month took down their doors again, and the old man selling steamed buns set up his steamer baskets on the street, the steam mingling with the aroma of wheat filling half the street. Long lines of carts carrying grain formed at the city gate, and the drivers, basking in the sun, chatted idly, their voices much louder than a few days ago.

On the eighth day, the stitches on Zhao Lingxi's left shoulder were removed. Lin Yanzhou removed them personally, as she had requested, and the princess forbade the imperial physicians to be present. After all, it required some undressing. As he sat beside the low table in her tent, cutting the last thread with small scissors, Zhao Lingxi looked down at the neat, light pink scar on her shoulder and remained silent for a long while.

"This scar," she said, "is much smaller than I thought." After all, women are quite concerned about this.

"If it's well-maintained, it will be light-colored. Wait another two months, and it will be almost invisible. It will be as white as the rest of the place..." Lin Yanzhou deliberately drew out the word "as white as the rest of the place."

Zhao Lingxi pulled her collar back into place, her movements slower than before, as if deliberately prolonging something. She didn't speak immediately, but instead lowered her head to straighten the fabric on her shoulders, smoothing out the wrinkles at the collar.

"Lin Yanzhou," she suddenly said. Without realizing it, the way she addressed him had changed from "Mr." to "Lin Yanzhou."

"Um?"

"If someone else had fought this battle, how many people would be left in Jizhou City?"

Lin Yanzhou was thinking about how to boast about his immortal status and preparing his words to exaggerate, but Zhao Lingxi continued speaking on her own: "I've calculated it. The city's food supplies will last at most twenty days, and the weapons are only enough for two tough battles. If Zhang Lin really orders an attack on the city, the city walls will definitely fall within three days. At that time, after three days of street fighting, the defending army will suffer at least half casualties, and the civilians in the city will be endangered by the chaotic soldiers, with countless deaths and injuries."

She looked up at him: "But you didn't fight a single battle, didn't hurt a single person, yet you managed to take 300,000 people away from the city."

"The Jurchens fought a battle for us."

"It was fought in someone else's backyard," Zhao Lingxi said. "That was someone else's knife; you were just pointing in a direction."

Lin Yanzhou collected the cut thread into a small dish. "Speaking of war and military strategy, I know a lot of gods and immortals. The one I admire most is my grandfather surnamed Mao. He was truly a war god who was unprecedented and unparalleled."

Zhao Lingxi looked at him quietly for a while, then lowered her voice: "I used to think that fighting a war relied on having a large number of soldiers and brave generals. After you came, I realized that sometimes, using your brain is more effective than using your sword. The Northern Di won't come again anytime soon, and the Jurchens have benefited this time; they won't provoke us for at least three to five years. You alone are worth a million soldiers."

She spoke calmly, as if stating a settled fact. But Lin Yanzhou noticed that her gaze lingered on his hand longer than it did on his wound.

"Stay in Jizhou City for a few more days," she said, her tone suddenly shifting from a statement to a request, so quickly it was almost imperceptible. "The people outside the city have heard that you are still here, and many of them come to wander around the military camp every day, just wanting to catch a glimpse of you from afar."

"What are you looking at me for?"

"Look at your 'immortal' persona," Zhao Lingxi said with a mischievous smirk. "They say you fell from the sky, holding light in your hand and reciting numbers, and repelled the enemy without lifting a finger. There are still people on the field ridges outside the city who have painted pictures of the white light you emitted that night and enshrined them. Someone even erected a monument in your honor: 'The Princess fought bravely on the battlefield, the Great Immortal repelled the enemy with three words.' It records the whole story in detail."

Lin Yanzhou packed up the tools and closed the wooden box: "Alright, let's stay a few more days. There are a few things I can do."

He turned around and put the wooden box back into the travel bag in the corner. When his fingers touched the cold cell phone in the interlayer, he suddenly felt a familiar warmth coming from deep between his eyebrows.

The sensation was light, like someone gently placing their palm on his forehead. Immediately afterward, a minimalist stream of information silently slid through his consciousness. This time, it wasn't a cold voice, but rather a complete cognition directly embedded in his perception.

The system is issuing him a reward:

The Northern Di retreated, Zhang Lin died, and the border was pacified. This series of milestones was deemed the completion of a major mission. The cold system was indeed much gentler this time. The feedback was clearer than ever before, like a door being pushed open, revealing three things neatly arranged inside.

First reward: A spatial ring. Initial form, upgradable later. Currently capable of carrying items equivalent to 2,000 kilograms in modern weight, regardless of size. A plain silver ring lay quietly in a corner of his field of vision, as if it had been waiting for him there all along.

Second reward: Round-trip access. Given the significant contribution this time, and the fact that one round trip was revoked last time, for two reasons, the reward is three round trips, and the ability to bring one person on one round trip.

The third reward: Mind Reading. Upgraded from three times a day to unlimited times, with no cooldown or limit on the number of uses. Whenever he wants to listen, the other person's innermost thoughts will be laid out before him like the pages of a book.

The three rewards were distributed simultaneously, without any further explanation. This mystery faded into silence after the rewards were given out, like a silent assistant that had completed its mission.

Lin Yanzhou stood there, his hand still resting on the edge of his travel bag, feeling the silver spatial ring firmly on his ring finger. He glanced down—the ring was silver, plain and unadorned, fitting his finger perfectly as if tailor-made, neither too tight nor too loose, and slightly cool to the touch. Outwardly calm, but inwardly a tidal wave of excitement surged: A spatial ring! I can now transport tons of antiques and gold back! And the supplies we lack here, especially large items, have no volume restrictions—it's simply amazing! Plus, I can bring one person back and forth; I need to choose that person carefully.

He looked up at Zhao Lingxi again and tried to activate his mind-reading ability.

She was thinking, "He's standing there without saying anything. Is he thinking about something else? Does he not like me? ... He's always like this; he gets distracted halfway through a sentence."

Lin Yanzhou withdrew his mind-reading ability, his expression unchanged. Sure enough, after using it an unlimited number of times, even those fragmented thoughts she hadn't had time to process could be captured. But he didn't continue reading; some things should wait for her to say them herself, rather than revealing his hand prematurely.

"What's wrong?" Zhao Lingxi noticed he had suddenly stopped moving and tilted her head slightly to look at him. "What are you spacing out about?"

"It's nothing," Lin Yanzhou zipped up his travel bag, turned around, and said, "I was thinking about the reservoir."

Zhao Lingxi glanced at him but didn't ask any further questions.

He stayed in Jizhou City for another five days.

For the past five days, he and Zhao Lingxi had been strolling along the farmland outside Jizhou City every morning. In many modern wars, the key towns on the borders of each country were crucial. If the people there were doing well, the border would be stable, and trade with neighboring regions would be easier. He needed to find a way to ensure the people here were well-fed and clothed. Spring came late in the north; the wheat seedlings in the fields were just sprouting, sparsely covering the grayish-yellow earth. Lin Yanzhou squatted down at the edge of the field, pulled up a wheat seedling, examined its roots, and then rubbed a handful of soil between his fingers, making a judgment in his mind.

He had Zhou Chongyuan summon the agricultural officials from the city and several old farmers who had spent most of their lives farming. They stood at the edge of the field for half an hour, and he explained a method to them that they had never heard of before.

"This piece of land looks flat, but if you look closely, there's a gentle slope running from north to south. The drop isn't huge, but it's enough to make the water flow in one direction." Lin Yanzhou drew a diagram on the ground with a twig. "The first thing I want you to do is choose a high, low-lying area and dig a reservoir according to this diagram. It won't be deep, but it needs to be large: during the rainy season, rainwater will be diverted in and stored there, and during the dry season, the sluice gates will be opened, and the water will flow down the main canal, and then the branch canals will distribute it to every field."

The agricultural officials huddled together, heads pressed together, studying the diagram on the ground. An elderly farmer with white hair and beard squatted down, tracing the line of the "main canal" with his rough fingers, then looked up and asked, "Storing water is easy, but once the water is brought down, how can we ensure that every field gets some? The field ridges are uneven—"

"So you need to do a second thing." Lin Yanzhou moved the branch down a bit. "Building one main canal isn't enough. The main canal is only responsible for bringing water from the reservoir to the fields. Once it reaches the fields, it branches into three or four branch canals, and then branch into smaller irrigation ditches—smaller ditches that run parallel to the field ridges. These smaller ditches follow the higher ground of each field, and when the water arrives, it simply breaks open a hole in the soil on the field ridge, and the water naturally flows in."

He spoke slowly, leaving enough room for the agricultural officials to process each sentence. Some began to whisper among themselves, with one saying, "How many ditches will we have to dig?" Another old farmer chimed in, "If we can't finish in one year, we'll do it in two. If we can't finish in two years, we'll do it in three. It's better than waiting for the weather to bring us food every year."

Lin Yanzhou spent another half day leading them along the slope east of the city, selecting three suitable locations for digging reservoirs. To make explanations easier, he used his mobile phone as a magical artifact, having someone copy several pages of diagrams from it. The person copying the diagrams was so startled that they had to kneel to draw them. These diagrams were agricultural and water conservancy data he had saved before setting off, with simple and clear lines, marking the specific dimensions of the reservoirs, the slope of the main canal, the spacing between branch canals, and the location of the sluice gates. Pointing to the markings on the diagrams, he explained to the agricultural officials: "The depth of the reservoir should not exceed two zhang (approximately 6.6 meters). If it's too deep, the water will accumulate slowly, and digging will be labor-intensive. Leave a width of 1.5 zhang (approximately 3.7 meters) for the main canal, and reduce the slope by one chi (approximately 0.6 meters) for every ten zhang (approximately 33 meters). The water will then flow down on its own, without needing to be carried."

Zhao Lingxi sat on a small stool by the edge of the field, watching him squat at the edge of the field, drawing blueprints with a group of agricultural officials. The morning light shone on his back, outlining the edges of his short hair with a pale gold color. When he squatted down, his sleeves were covered in mud, but he didn't notice it at all, and he was still drawing a line for a branch ditch on the ground with his hand.

She suddenly recalled the high-ranking officials she had met in the capital: they discussed promotions, salaries, and factional changes, while this man, squatting in the mud, talked about how wide the canal should be, how deep the reservoir should be dug, and where the sluice gate should be placed. The mud on his sleeves was still wet, and he was surrounded by a group of elderly people and agricultural officials whose hands smelled of earth, each with bright eyes.

After listening to the explanation, an old farmer stood up, dusted himself off, and solemnly bowed to Lin Yanzhou. His voice was hoarse with sincerity: "Sir, in previous years during the dry season, we were lucky if the land east of the city could yield 30% of its grain. If we follow your advice and dig the reservoir and build the irrigation canals, we can guarantee 80% every year. We farmers don't know how to thank you enough."

"Just focus on cultivating the land." Lin Yanzhou stood up and dusted off his hands. "You guys dig the reservoir first, and I'll come back to check on it after you're done."

The old farmer bowed once more before turning to leave. After he had walked a few steps, the other agricultural officials also stood up. Some were muttering the numbers they had just memorized, while others were still gesturing at the diagrams on the ground.

Zhao Lingxi remained seated on the edge of the field. Only after the others had dispersed did she stand up and walk to his side. She looked down at the lines drawn on the ground by tree branches—the outlines of the main canal, branch canals, irrigation ditches, and reservoir, layered upon layered, like a tree growing upside down into the ground.

“You drew it,” she said. “I sat there looking at it for almost half an hour, and the more I looked at it, the more it looked like the roots of a tree. The reservoir is the root, the main canal is the trunk, the branch canals are the branches, and the fine canals are the fine roots. Water comes from the roots and spreads along the trunk and branches to every inch of soil.”

Lin Yanzhou paused for a moment, glanced down at the drawing on the ground, then looked up at her. Sunlight fell on her brows, and there was a deep admiration in her gaze, more profound than any praise he had ever heard.

Now that you mention it, it does seem that way.

"I used to study agricultural books in the palace, and when I came to the phrase 'Water conservancy is the foundation of agriculture,' I memorized those eight characters for ten years but never understood them. Today, I've been sitting here looking at your diagrams for half an hour," she paused, "and I understand now."

She lowered her head and gently touched the line of the main canal on the ground with the tip of her shoe, her voice sweet: "In the few days you've been in Jizhou City, you've done more than Zhang Lin has done in the court for over a decade. He's saved up 4.7 million taels of silver, and you've drawn a few lines on the ground. 4.7 million taels of silver can't support the people for a year, but these lines can last for decades."

Lin Yanzhou put the branches away without replying. He turned and walked towards the next slope he wanted to inspect, with Zhao Lingxi following behind him at a leisurely pace, her expression much more relaxed than in the military camp.