Chapter 79

Chapter 79

When the court ministers learned of the incident, their thoughts mirrored almost exactly Pei Yue's.

Upon hearing that the chaos at the porridge distribution site had escalated into a brawl involving dozens of people—with two even sustaining serious injuries—their emotions grew complicated.

—To turn a charitable act into such a mess was truly indescribable. Worse still, it was unclear who should bear the blame. The Prince of Jin had acted with good intentions, and those who came to receive the rice could hardly be faulted either. It was simply a matter of failed crowd management.

When the emperor first received the news, he too was at a loss for words.

Previously, when he had placed the Prince of Jin under house arrest, it had been out of mild disappointment, hoping his eldest son would reflect on his mistakes. At the end of the year, the Prince of Jin had submitted a sincere petition, and since the New Year, he had appeared far more composed than before, demonstrating marked improvement. The emperor had quietly sighed with relief—at least his eldest son wasn’t truly a fool.

Now, with heavy snowfall suddenly blanketing the capital and nearby regions—some areas even reporting disasters—the emperor had been busy discussing relief measures with his ministers. Yet, right under his nose, his own son had mishandled even this simple matter, leaving him somewhat embarrassed.

Summoned to the palace, the Prince of Jin was equally full of grievances. "This isn’t the first time I’ve done such charitable work. I foresaw possible disturbances among the commoners and had my guards stationed there to maintain order. The past few days passed without incident—who knew today’s trouble? Fortunately, we intervened in time to prevent greater harm, and I’ve already seen to reparations for the injured."

Having ruled for years, the emperor was inclined to overanalyze things. Hearing his son’s complaints, he couldn’t help but ponder further. Still, he merely frowned and curtly reprimanded him, "Be more thorough in your work. If you can’t handle such small matters without error, how will you assume more important duties?"

Even if someone had indeed schemed behind the scenes, the fact that his son had been outwitted in such a trivial affair only reinforced the emperor’s impression of his incompetence. Then there was the matter of the auspicious animal—clearly orchestrated by his eldest son, yet it had ended up benefiting someone else. As an observer, the emperor had uncovered his son’s self-serving intentions but didn’t consider it a grave offense—merely another sign of his poor leadership.

The Prince of Jin lowered his head in silence, inwardly relieved. Anticipating the summons, he had already prepared his defense with his advisors.

Now assured that his father wouldn’t press further, he accepted the reprimand and withdrew. Back in his study with his advisors, they analyzed the imperial audience. He couldn’t help but feel regret—if only he had uncovered some evidence to present, wouldn’t his father have punished the culprits?

Though the advisors also found the sudden unrest suspicious, the lack of concrete proof left them advising against dwelling on resentment. With the matter effectively closed, the priority now was to plan the next steps.

Additionally, one advisor reminded him, "Your Highness, don’t forget to send a gesture of thanks to the Duke of Dingguo’s residence." If not for Crown Prince Pei’s intervention upon returning to the city, the situation could have turned fatal, making it far harder to escape blame.

Mention of Pei Yue darkened the Prince of Jin’s expression. "He’s truly inscrutable."

If Pei Yue held a grudge, why had he helped this time? If he meant to show favor, why had he thwarted the hunting incident and saved the Liu family’s pawns, preventing their scheme?

Now, with the Liu family ruined, the Prince of Jin had lost a stream of bribes, and his eldest son’s mother being the daughter of a disgraced official only added to the disgrace.

The advisor, however, understood. "Crown Prince Pei comes from a ducal house and holds a critical post. His priority is fulfilling his duties—maintaining a proper rapport is enough. Such a man doesn’t need to be courted." After all, Pei Yue lacked nothing, making him virtually impossible to influence. "When the time comes, he will naturally pledge loyalty to Your Highness."

Recalling that Pei Yue showed no particular closeness to his other brothers, the Prince of Jin’s mood lightened. He nodded and ordered preparations for the gift.

Watching this, the advisor felt gratified—since the house arrest last year, the prince had become far more receptive to counsel. After some thought, he discussed how to handle the aftermath of the incident.

With repeated missteps diminishing the prince’s standing as the imperial eldest son, every opportunity to regain ground had to be seized.

Given the debacle, the Prince of Jin’s porridge distribution was disbanded. Instead, he made a public spectacle of dividing the remaining rice among orphanages, convents, and other charitable institutions, entrusting them with the distribution.

These institutions were scattered across the city, and the high-profile donations quickly spread word of the Prince of Jin’s generosity. Even homebound elderly soon learned of his largesse.

Among the elite, discretion was valued in charitable acts. Many families had quietly aided disaster victims, but seeing the Prince of Jin hailed as a model of charity, some couldn’t resist emulating his overt approach.

In the following days, reports of donations—rice, clothing, and more—flooded in, accompanied by pointed remarks: "Surely your esteemed household, with its ample resources, wouldn’t hesitate to contribute?"

Fearing losing face, many followed suit. With roads impassable, temples outside the city were hard to reach, leaving convents within the city overwhelmed with daily contributions.

Eventually, some bypassed the convents altogether, sending goods directly to the capital’s administrative office—a more dignified way to part with their wealth.

The untimely snowfall at the end of the first lunar month all but guaranteed poor harvests in the north. As the emperor prepared for reduced summer tax revenues, the unexpected flood of donations—though modest—brought a glimmer of relief amid the chaos.

Even his view of his seemingly inept eldest son warmed somewhat.

The emperor’s subtle shift in demeanor was instantly noted by his ever-attentive ministers. The Prince of Chu, with his mother in the inner palace, was among the first to notice, puzzled—how had his elder brother accidentally pleased their father this time?

With the plan’s poor results, some in the Prince of Chu’s circle quietly mocked the advisor behind it, accusing him of handing the Prince of Jin an unearned advantage.

Though disappointed that his brother had regained some imperial favor, the Prince of Chu took comfort in the broader picture—the Prince of Jin’s reputation for incompetence in minor matters remained intact. With their father in good health and disdainful of impatience, there was no need to rush.

After sharply rebuking the critics to maintain harmony, he turned the discussion to future strategies.

Amid these tensions, the days-long snowfall finally ceased, and the capital enjoyed rare sunlight. Melting snow turned the icy city into a sodden landscape, with only lingering patches of ice glinting with rainbow hues in the light.

Though the countryside was typically colder, the hot springs at the villa kept the grounds warmer than usual. On the first clear day, the snow began melting rapidly.

With roads passable again, Mrs. Pei, eager to escape confinement, took Ming Tang and Pei Ze to Jishan Temple for a change of scenery and to make offerings.

Jishan Temple, renowned not for answering prayers but for its monks’ charitable works, donated all offerings beyond basic needs to the poor.

The temple’s sole attraction was a small hot spring, famed for a Calligraphy Sage who had once washed his brushes there, leaving behind a few anecdotes.

Its long-standing reputation prevented even the most avaricious nobles from seizing the site, leaving it undisturbed.

The temple’s compact grounds lay near the villa, a short carriage ride away. The only drawback was the stone staircase leading up—visitors had to ascend on foot.

Ming Tang, who enjoyed post-meal strolls, ascended effortlessly.

Mrs. Pei, however, struggled with the ascent. Pausing halfway, she regarded the remaining climb with dismay.

The narrow path allowed only two abreast. As she hesitated, Ming Tang steadied her arm, lending support.

Startled, Mrs. Pei accepted the help, matching her pace.

At the top, Ming Tang released her, unaffected.

Mrs. Pei studied her, an old suspicion resurfacing. "The physicians who examined you—were they accurate? You seem robust, hardly the type to suffer infertility."

Women with such issues often showed signs like cold limbs or fatigue, yet Ming Tang displayed none.

Perhaps the lack of children wasn’t her fault. Though long resigned, Mrs. Pei felt a spark of hope.

After their time together, she trusted Ming Tang’s character—even with her own children, she’d still care for Pei Ze, preventing household strife.

Ming Tang shook her head. "Three experienced physicians specializing in women’s health all gave the same diagnosis."

She had always prioritized wellness, never suspecting fertility issues until pressured after marrying Chen Wenyao.

Learning she might never conceive had been a relief. She’d planned to discuss adoption with Chen, but his affair and the subsequent pregnancy made further talk pointless. They’d divorced soon after.

Mrs. Pei sighed, masking her disappointment. "I mistook your vitality for a misdiagnosis."

It had been a fleeting hope. Reality remained unchanged.

Behind them, Nanny Zhou carried Pei Ze up step by step. Watching his grandmother and mother "grow" from head to toe, the boy exclaimed, "Grandmother! Mother! First only your heads, then necks, tummies, and legs—it’s magic!"

His childish delight drew laughter. Ming Tang ruffled his hair. "Really? You grew the same way. Guess why?"

Pei Ze frowned in deep thought as Nanny Zhou carried him through the temple gate. Turning back, he noticed the steps they had climbed earlier were gradually disappearing from view. His face brightened: "It's because of the steps!"

"A Ze is so clever~"

It was still early, and the temple was empty, making it exceptionally quiet. Ming Tang followed Mrs. Pei, kneeling on a cushion with her eyes closed, holding incense, though her thoughts were empty.

However, when it came to selecting a good luck charm afterward, she was quite serious, carefully picking through the various items before settling on a coin-shaped one, which she held with satisfaction.

As a temple that relied on donations from devotees, the reception monk was naturally eloquent. Seeing her choice, he immediately began explaining the significance of the coin to Ming Tang, even elaborating on the meaning behind the characters inscribed on it.

Ming Tang listened attentively, nodding repeatedly. She flipped the charm over a few times, confirming that she didn’t recognize the characters, and then dismissed it. Well, whatever was written on it didn’t matter—it was shaped like a coin, so it must bring good fortune.

After offering incense and obtaining the good luck charm, the monk politely ushered them to a meditation room to rest and discuss the donation. With nothing else to do, Ming Tang took Pei Ze to see the temple’s hot spring and the calligraphy said to have been left by the Calligraphy Sage.

Led by a young novice, the group made their way to the back. Pei Ze babbled nonstop along the way, much like Mrs. Pei’s parrot, which had recently learned many new phrases and couldn’t resist showing off.

Amid the little parrot’s incessant chirping, Ming Tang and the others crossed the courtyard toward the rear.

Just as they stepped over the threshold into the temple, a child’s voice reached them, drawing a surprised murmur from someone in their group: "Someone arrived even earlier than us?"