Chapter 43 A Letter from Afar

Chapter 43: Cloud-Borne Missive

Pei Jingchen had been only half right.

The letter Xiao Yunlang sent to the residence was indeed addressed to Jiang Yanzhou—but this particular one was also meant for Steward Wang’s eyes.

He needed to first inquire about Young Master Jiang’s condition from others, to set his mind at ease.

After all, if he asked Jiang Yanzhou directly, the reply would surely be nothing more than “I’m fine,” “Everything’s good,” and the like.

After reading the letter, Steward Wang and Feng Lan deliberated over how to respond. The young master had grown busier these past few days—rising earlier than before, no longer sleeping until nearly noon.

Yet the imperial physician had examined him thoroughly and found no abnormalities. His sleep had become more efficient—a sign that his body was recovering.

Oh—and Feng Lan added meticulously—on the very day you departed for the campaign, the young master struggled to fall asleep at night.

He also made sure to inform Xiao Yunlang that the young master kept your mask beside his pillow.

When Xiao Yunlang received the reply and read those two lines, his gaze slowly traced over the words.

Before parting, he had left behind a kiss—and a poem. Jiang Yanzhou should have understood his feelings by now.

Had he not feared that careless words before the campaign might jinx Jiang Yanzhou, he would have recited *Chou Mou* to him outright.

If it concerned only his own fortune—or something of the sort—Xiao Yunlang wouldn’t have feared it; he didn’t believe in such things.

But when it came to Jiang Yanzhou, belief was irrelevant. He simply felt no degree of caution could ever be excessive.

So this was the taste of fear born of love.

Because he cared, he couldn’t bear even a speck of dust—or a single taboo—to touch him.

Having confirmed from their account that Jiang Yanzhou was well, Xiao Yunlang picked up his brush once more. This letter was truly written for Jiang Yanzhou alone.

Pei Jingchen had barely retrieved the letters—and hadn’t even caught his breath—before he had to deliver them again. He’d just gulped down half a pot of water; the sweat on his forehead hadn’t yet dried. Even he couldn’t help muttering inwardly: *What? Again? Really?*

His Highness the Crown Prince was usually stern-faced, stoic, and sparing with words. Where, then, was he finding so much to write about? Though several days had passed again, shouldn’t one wait ten days to half a month—after the back-and-forth of letters—before writing the next letter home?

Yet even if he’d dared, he wouldn’t have voiced it aloud. Pei Jingchen could only resign himself to fate, mounting his horse once more and galloping off, panting all the way.

The horses’ hooves never ceased, echoing across the borderlands’ yellow sands, steel, and wine.

By the time Jiang Yanzhou received Xiao Yunlang’s letter addressed solely to him, he had already copied *Chou Mou* twice from the study—and Xiao Yunlang had already arrived in Yizhou.

It was only twice because Jiang Yanzhou had repeatedly practiced many other copybooks, yet each time he looked upon *Chou Mou*, he found it strangely difficult to bring brush to paper.

Only later did he manage—haltingly—to copy it, bit by bit.

Emperor Yonghe permitted Jiang Yanzhou to attend the Ministry of War but granted him no authority. He merely assumed Jiang Yanzhou remained under Xiao Yunlang’s de facto house arrest—and intended this decree to grant him free access to the Crown Prince’s residence, offering some convenience.

Thus, Jiang Yanzhou’s position was, in fact, awkward: he could not interfere with Ministry of War affairs—at least not on the surface.

In reality, the Minister of War handled duties in the Grand Secretariat during the day. All Ministry of War matters had to first pass through the Vice Minister’s hands—and whose orders did the Vice Minister follow?

Now, any information reaching the Vice Minister was first shown to the Crown Princess. Only then would it proceed to his superior—the Minister.

Naturally, Jiang Yanzhou could thus intervene in certain Ministry of War decisions, personnel assignments, and resource allocations.

He also wasn’t required to clock in punctually like ordinary officials. Occasional appearances sufficed to avoid flouting the imperial decree.

The more lax he appeared, the more reassured Emperor Yonghe felt. Having such an easy “post” was truly unparalleled.

When Emperor Yonghe wished to retain Jiang Yinhan, he praised him for placing righteousness above family. When he wished to eliminate Jiang Yinhan, he instantly reversed course—claiming the entire affair had been a carefully staged performance orchestrated by father and son Jiang, and that Jiang Yinhan bore equal responsibility for Jiang Linque’s crimes.

Jiang Yinhan refused to die in his father’s stead—but he did not live many days longer either.

Only after Jiang Yinhan too was beheaded did the Crown Princess finally meet with several senior elders of the Jiang clan.

These elders were advanced in years. For years, the clan had followed Jiang Linque’s lead—and now, without a helmsman, they were reduced to panic and dread.

With his biological father and elder brother gone, the Chief Grand Secretary’s residence confiscated, and the insiders—who knew Jiang Yanzhou had never been valued by Jiang Linque—now dead or scattered, Jiang Yanzhou no longer needed to fabricate stories about learning everything from the study.

He stated plainly that his father and elder brother had told him everything. Though ill and unable to assist, he remained fully aware of all family matters.

Some doubted? So what? Could they personally descend and ask Jiang father and son themselves?

The meeting with the clan elders took place in an unassuming small residence on the city’s outskirts.

The surroundings were profoundly tranquil—only the rustling of wind through bamboo leaves broke the silence. The walls were mottled with age, and usually only two elderly servants tended the house. It had not seen so many visitors in a long time.

The elders had hired guards to stand watch outside, just in case. In the main hall, Jiang Yanzhou’s voice—clear as a mountain stream—flowed steadily.

“Land taxes must not be meddled with again. At this critical juncture, the Ningzhou Jiang clan can only strive to salvage some reputation.”

Though disaster relief in Jiangbei had been timely, some refugees still headed south. Jiang Yanzhou pointed the elders toward a practical course: “You may establish soup kitchens and medicine stations at city gates or temples, providing relief to the people—doing some good deeds.”

Among these Ningzhou elders, some vaguely recalled Jiang Yanzhou from childhood; others had no memory of him at all.

Now, they only sensed the Crown Princess possessed considerable presence. His speech was neither hurried nor slow—yet went straight to the point—and they unconsciously followed his train of thought.

Jiang Yanzhou continued: “Also, grain prices in Ningzhou must be lowered.”

Several elders’ expressions turned stern. They exchanged glances. Establishing relief stations for good deeds was one thing—but grain prices were their lifeline.

One elder tentatively began to complain: “Your Highness, to be frank, after the capital incident, Ningzhou has already cut expenses drastically. Yet even after dismissing many servants, the household still supports over a thousand people. The young masters’ and ladies’ studies, marriages, daily expenses—even minimized—still amount to a staggering sum.”

“Yes, yes,” another chimed in. “It doesn’t matter if we old folks eat a few fewer bites—but we cannot let the children suffer!”

Jiang Yanzhou slowly surveyed the men with an expression of curious amazement. His gaze swept over their haggard faces and bodies clad in fine silks and satins—and then he understood.

Ah—the blade had not yet fully fallen upon them, so the pain remained limited.

These men likely believed that, with the iron certificate preserving the nine clans, the Jiang family still harbored a chance to rise again. Thus, they were unwilling to relinquish grain—or real wealth.

After all, as a century-old great clan accustomed to extravagance, they lived comfortably, oblivious to danger—forever fantasizing about remaining aloft, refusing to lower their heads and take a look.

The truly far-sighted elders within the clan—those who foresaw impending doom—were probably bedridden by illness, leaving these remaining incompetents to gather and make decisions together.

While the common people starved, they had raised up such a worthless lot.

Jiang Yanzhou placed the lid on his teacup, covering the reflection of his gaze on the water’s surface.

“Not only must grain prices be lowered—but the excess grain stored in the granaries must also be sold off.”

As several elders tried to speak again, Jiang Yanzhou cut them off with a single sentence: “The Embroidered Uniform Guard has already secretly gone to Ningzhou.”

The elders paled in shock: “What!? Wasn’t the private tea case already investigated?”

“It appears concluded—but His Majesty’s dissatisfaction with the Jiang family is no recent development. If they uncover anything further, it will give him the pretext to settle all accounts later.”

One of the clan elders, with graying hair and decrepit with age, spoke slowly but with inner urgency, resulting in slurred speech: "N-no, d-don't abolish... involving land taxes, the other four families won't just sit by and do nothing!"

He meant: It won't happen. When it comes to land taxes, the other aristocratic families won't stand idly by.

Jiang Yanzhou sighed leisurely, "Elder Uncle, the Wei family has the Prince of Jin. They're eyeing the very top. Even if land taxes are temporarily adjusted, so what? As long as they achieve their great undertaking, won't they be able to change things back later? But what does the Jiang family have left?"

The elderly uncles paled: ... The Jiang family no longer has anyone in the court.

In other words, even if land taxes are adjusted, the Wei family might be willing to accept a temporary loss. When the time comes, there might truly be no one to speak up for the Jiang family?

The elders finally grasped the severity of the situation. On the spot, one of them grew so agitated that he coughed incessantly, and they all began to fidget uneasily.

The Jiang family's commercial ventures; monetary accounts were one thing, but the registered land was limited. With annual harvests reported as low and so much surplus grain in the warehouses, if the Imperial Guards caught them red-handed, they could talk until they were blue in the face.

"What should we do?" one elder anxiously wiped sweat with a handkerchief. "In the past, the diverted grain was sold slowly. Who could take in so much at once? Without the Song family, the black market routes are difficult, and we can't dump it all in Ningzhou—that would also raise suspicions!"

Even if they were willing to lower prices now, it wouldn't be convenient to sell!

But the Imperial Guards were already on their way. What should we do? Isn't this a dead end either way?

"There's a way."

The elders, at a loss, abruptly fell silent. Apart from the phlegmy sounds of labored breathing, it was so quiet one could hear a pin drop. Their turbid eyes fixed intently on Jiang Yanzhou.

Jiang Yanzhou's pale fingertip traced a line on the table. "Still go through the black market. Sell it to the borderlands."

The elders froze, even their breathing halting.

The borderlands... wasn't that...

"...Didn't the Crown Prince just go to the borderlands?"

"The borderlands have always been short on grain. Now that he's there, if he plans to suppress bandits, the shortage will worsen," Jiang Yanzhou analyzed methodically, as if genuinely speaking from the Jiang family's perspective. "Borderland generals have always found their own ways to procure grain. They can take this batch. Once they're fed, they won't bother asking where it came from."

Jiang Yanzhou's fingertip gently circled back on the table. "Moreover, our choices now are either the imperial family or the Wei family. The Wei family commands no troops. Are we supposed to send them grain to raise a private army?"

If the Wei family grew powerful, eliminated Empress Jiang and Jiang Yanzhou, then turned their greedy eyes toward the Ningzhou granaries, the Jiang clan would truly be finished.

Between a wolf in front and a tiger behind, if they had to choose, it was indeed better to benefit the imperial family.

The elders gritted their teeth, exchanged glances, and for the sake of survival, steeled themselves and made the painful decision.

A moment later, the old gate creaked open. The group dispersed, each boarding their own carriages and going their separate ways.

Jiang Yanzhou also boarded a small carriage. The coachman wore a bamboo hat. When he lifted it, revealing his face—who else could it be but Feng Lan?

Only, his face was smeared with yellow pigment, and he wore a fake beard.

Jiang Yanzhou said he had recruited a few people in the Crown Prince's residence, and Feng Lan was one of his own. But to make the elders more at ease, it was best not to have anyone associated with the Crown Prince's residence appear today, so Feng Lan had disguised himself.

Sitting in the carriage, Jiang Yanzhou took out a piece of paper and crossed off the items already accomplished with a brush.

Before Xiao Yunlang left the capital, Yizhou and Shuozhou had sent several dispatches to the capital. Though the raids were scattered, their frequency had increased. Yet the court only told the borderlands to handle it themselves.

After mounted bandits, refugees were inevitable. Sending Ningzhou's grain there was to aid refugees before the fighting began, stabilizing the borderlands.

After all, to secure the outside, one must first pacify the inside. In history, when Xiao Yunlang suppressed bandits, he coordinated from afar with the Marquis of Zhenxi, who truly held heavy military power in the borderlands, and also attacked a small Western Region state called Yarong, bordering Wuzi.

Because this small country had disguised much of its military as mounted bandits, plundering many goods from the Daqi border and transporting them back to their own country.

After Wuzi signed an agreement with Daqi, Yarong still boldly allowed the bandits passage.

Either it or Wuzi needed to be taught a lesson to understand their place and serve as a warning to neighboring countries. Since Wuzi was temporarily subdued, Yarong was the most suitable target.

If Xiao Yunlang were to fight according to history this time, Ningzhou's grain alone wouldn't be enough. It would still mainly depend on the provisions allocated by the court.

Emperor Yonghe would delay the provisions, so they needed to think of some emergency measures in the meantime.

Wei Wuyou had already been assigned to Cangzhou. Although Cangzhou had previously transferred a batch of grain to Jiangbei, the Shangguan family's granaries surely still had reserves. It remained to be seen if Wei Wuyou could extract more.

When the borderlands truly engaged Yarong in battle, if the emperor allocated grain again, it would have to come from Zhangzhou.

That batch of provisions—Emperor Yonghe would deliberately delay their timing. Jiang Yanzhou must escort them personally.

Although the outcome of victory wouldn't change, the soldiers and Xiao Yunlang wouldn't have to fight enemies ahead while exhausting themselves with schemes and calculations behind. They could fight more easily with fewer casualties and worries.

People sing praises of achievements, speak of battlefield heroics, and enjoy hearty conversations over wine—it's exhilarating. But only when one is truly in the midst of it does one understand what danger is, what heart-pounding fear is.

Jiang Yanzhou, merely arranging provisions from the rear, was already unbearably tense. How much harder must it have been for the soldiers who truly fought bloodied battles?

Delaying military opportunities in the western campaign was also one of Emperor Yonghe's most criticized points by later generations. If not for Xiao Yunlang and the Marquis of Zhenxi being skilled in both warfare and strategy, the western situation would have changed long ago.

Meeting with the Jiang clan elders and securing the Ningzhou Jiang clan's granaries was already two days ago. Now, Jiang Yanzhou was in his study, his calligraphy practice not yet finished, when Feng Lan entered the room.

"Young Master, a letter from His Highness has arrived."

Jiang Yanzhou's brush nearly slipped. He carefully moved it aside, set it down, and took the letter.

There were two letters. One wasn't in Xiao Yunlang's handwriting—it was penned by a bodyguard on his behalf. It stated they had reached Yizhou, but by the time the letter arrived home, they would likely have already arrived at Wangyue Pass.

On the way, they encountered a small group of wandering bandits, not Western Region mounted bandits, but Daqi citizens who had turned to banditry.

Fortunately, the bandits weren't formidable, and they managed in time.

They had already established communication with the Marshal, the Marquis of Zhenxi, and it went smoothly.

After reading it, Jiang Yanzhou sighed in relief and opened the other letter.

As soon as he took out the letter, bold, sweeping characters leaped off the page.

"To Niangui, upon seeing these words, it is as if we are meeting."

Jiang Yanzhou couldn't help but be captivated.

His heart gave a gentle thump. He slowly unfolded the entire letter, unaware of when Feng Lan had left to stand guard outside the door.

The official matters were mostly covered in the previous letter, so Xiao Yunlang's personal letter didn't mention them much.

He said it had been a long time since he'd seen the borderlands' scenery, and he felt somewhat nostalgic—just that the climate was, as always, hardly commendable.

He said the mutton here was roasted on the spot, sprinkled with pepper when golden and sizzling, paired with a bowl of thick-skinned fresh milk boiled with tea and a small western flower—an absolutely unique flavor that Jiang Yanzhou would surely love.

A dried flower fell out of the envelope.

"This flower tastes best when boiled fresh. Dried, its fragrance fades, but you might not have seen it before, so here's a look. When you come, I'll take you to taste it."

No wonder the letter paper carried a floral scent... A faint smile appeared in Jiang Yanzhou's eyes.

The Crown Prince also said the sky here was higher than in the capital, the moon larger than in the capital. When Jiang Yanzhou came later, they could admire the moon together.

If Jiang Yanzhou has already learned to ride a horse well, they could ride side by side when the time comes; if he still cannot handle a horse on his own, Xiao Yunlang would take him along.

Galloping under the moon, drinking and singing as they admire the flowers.

After saying all this, he also asked whether there had been thunderstorms or rain in the capital recently, urging Jiang Yanzhou to eat well, take his medicine, and rest properly.

The personal letter was much thicker than the official dispatch. Who would have thought that the Crown Prince, who always wore such a cold expression, could write with such meticulous, everyday detail?

Finally, he asked:

"Which calligraphy copybooks have you been working on lately? Are you practicing the poem I left for you?"

Jiang Yanzhou pursed his lips, shifting his gaze from the letter to the sheet of calligraphy on the table.

Although Xiao Yunlang wasn't there, he reached out and moved the paper aside, pretending not to see it.

A few thin pages could hardly contain his thoughts, but Jiang Yanzhou seemed to already see the moonlight and windblown sand thousands of miles away, and Xiao Yunlang clad in armor, holding a blade.

That was why he loved words and reading, though this was the first time he understood why letters were so captivating.

Because these were whispers offered by one person to another alone.

Naturally, having received the letter, he had to reply.

Little Young Master Jiang spent a full two days writing his reply.

Firstly, he wrote each character slowly and carefully; secondly, he pondered every word in his mind repeatedly before putting it to paper.

In ancient times, people often spoke of "letters from the clouds" and "bluebirds delivering messages," drawing out anticipation and longing so far and wide, simply because mountains and rivers lay between, and the distance was truly vast.

A single sentence truly had to cross countless rivers and mountains before it could fly into another's hands.

Jiang Yanzhou's reply arrived at Wangyue Pass along with the grain. By then, Xiao Yunlang had already engaged the mounted bandits and fought a battle.

A year apart, and the Western Regions nations had vigorously supported the mounted bandits, whose numbers now exceeded thirty thousand—more than the garrison troops of Yizhou.

And this was the result after the Marquis of Zhenxi, following Xiao Yunlang's earlier efforts, stepped in to curb them.

Pei Jingchen, a playboy experiencing the frontier situation for the first time, was so agitated that he let loose a stream of Daqi curses, concluding: "This is an outrage!"

After cursing, he recalled the words of the young master behind the curtain at the poetry gathering and thought about how he had only considered the Eastern Palace's schemes at the time, feeling deeply ashamed.

Now, upon reflection, that person must have been the Crown Princess.

Xiao Yunlang, wearing light armor, was studying a map in the tent.

The iron armor made his already sharp facial features appear even more stern, his sword-like eyebrows imposing.

His gaze had been fixed near Yarong for a long time when Feng Yi lifted the tent flap, bringing in a gust of wind.

"Your Highness, the grain from Ningzhou is here, and the young master's letter has arrived too."

Xiao Yunlang took the letter: "Let's go check the grain first."

Seeing that Xiao Yunlang had no immediate intention of opening the letter, Pei Jingchen, quick on the uptake, immediately reached out to take the letter for His Highness and put it away.

Unexpectedly, Xiao Yunlang simply walked out holding the letter in his hand, with no intention of setting it down.

Pei Jingchen was baffled.

Only after Xiao Yunlang stepped out of the tent did Pei Jingchen jolt and quickly withdraw his hand, realizing he had done something foolish.

He didn't read it at once out of duty to his troops; he kept it in hand out of personal longing.

For the Crown Prince, for his beloved, for Daqi, for their small home.

Pei Jingchen rubbed his nose, filled with admiration, thinking that from now on, even if His Highness had many more letters for him to deliver, he would never complain inwardly again.

True to form from the Jiang family granary, it was all fine rice. Xiao Yunlang grabbed a handful: "After the inspection is done, set aside half and have the Administration Office distribute it to the refugees within the territory to pacify the people. We absolutely must not allow any riots."

Feng Yi noted it down: "Yes."

The money for this grain did not come from Yizhou. It was silver seized when the Imperial Guards, following the Emperor's decree, raided Zhong Qingfu's home in Congzhou.

Silver confiscated from corrupt officials should be used for the people. Emperor Yonghe, to play his balancing games in the court, would rather let the frontier suffer than temporarily release funds for subsidies, even when money was available. Xiao Yunlang had long anticipated this and thus made contingency plans.

Wasn't this better than Emperor Yonghe hoarding the money in his private treasury?

Pei Jingchen, having seen the frontier people and now looking at such fine rice from Ningzhou, restrained himself again and again but finally couldn't help saying: "Your Highness, are you really going to fight Yarong?"

Xiao Yunlang rubbed the rice grains between his fingers: "Why?"

"The court will surely make things difficult for you. Also, we don't have a suitable reason now. If we start a war rashly without a reason, what if the surrounding small countries side with Yarong instead?"

"There are plenty of reasons. For example, Yarong spies disguised as merchants entered Daqi, spying on military secrets and harming people." Xiao Yunlang let the rice grains slip back into the bag.

"If they don't acknowledge the mounted bandits, then we won't mention them. Once we capture them, these are all actual soldiers from their country. Flying bandit flags and thinking they can act recklessly? Who do they think they are?"

Xiao Yunlang sneered coldly, but his fingers were gentle as they caressed the letter: "As for the court, all necessary preparations and considerations have been made. Having come this far is to win, not to hesitate and hold back here."

Xiao Yunlang glanced sideways at him: "Understood?"

Pei Jingchen felt ashamed under that glance, stiffening his shoulders and nodding rigidly.

He felt seen through by Xiao Yunlang, with nowhere to hide.

That glance from Xiao Yunlang clearly carried the meaning: you still have a long way to go.

But Pei Jingchen was also convinced; he knew what kind of person he had been before.

Xiao Yunlang withdrew his gaze: "Observe more. There's plenty here for you to learn. Go help inspect the grain."

Pei Jingchen acknowledged and went. Xiao Yunlang returned to the tent, not keeping any personal guards inside. In the quiet environment, he opened the letter in his hand.

"Your Highness the Crown Prince, I have respectfully received your gracious letter. I apologize for the delayed reply."

Xiao Yunlang sighed softly. Why so formal?

But the young master's calligraphy has improved greatly. It's just... the strokes look a bit stiff. Although each stroke shows significant improvement, each character feels somewhat pieced together.

It's as if there were long intervals between each stroke, so much so that the before and after feel disconnected, and the characters didn't flow smoothly.

Xiao Yunlang seemed to already see Jiang Yanzhou holding the brush with utmost seriousness and couldn't help but chuckle.

Young Master Jiang combined official matters and personal correspondence, asking about the battle situation: Is everything alright? Were you injured? Please be careful, you must not get hurt.

He also mentioned that he was still trying to find ways regarding grain: The Jiang family of Ningzhou, though diminished, is still richer than most. I'll see if I can coax more out of them.

Everyone at the residence is well. Though Steward Wang is advanced in years, he remains hale and hearty, so don't worry.

There are so many delicious foods in the west—they sound absolutely delicious.

"I saw that little flower from the Western Regions, but you've already seen all the flowers in the capital. After much thought, I'm sending you the first peach blossom that bloomed in the courtyard—the very first sign of spring, wishing you triumph in all your endeavors."

Taking the essence of spring, for the Crown Prince.

Inside the envelope was a small, dried pinkish-white flower, which had even tinted a corner of the paper with a faint spring hue. Xiao Yunlang liked this good omen.

And that poem he had left behind...

"More often, I practice copying the rhapsody you composed yourself. For calligraphy practice, it's better than that poem."

Did Xiao Yunlang want to know which piece was better? Young Master Jiang tried to flatter his way out of answering, giving an answer that missed the point.

Xiao Yunlang gently traced the three characters of the signature—Jiang Yanzhou. Dust and sand were shut out beyond the tent, while here, all was tenderness.

They had been apart for so long, and he had given Jiang Yanzhou ample time. If he avoided the matter now, next time they met, he wouldn't get away with dodging it again.