Chapter Fifty-Nine: Night Conversations at the Villa (Part Two)

“This villa is truly beautiful! Is it the Princess’s private retreat?” Tang Tian asked.

“Yes,” Feng Xiaobao replied cautiously. “I’m... quite close with the Princess.”

How close? Close enough to know even her deepest secrets.

“Oh,” Tang Tian responded, then inquired, “What kind of person is the Princess?”

She’s probing for information—always a good sign. If she stopped asking, that would be dangerous; she might be thinking of giving up on Feng Xiaobao.

“The Princess is a decent person. She doesn’t throw her weight around, and when we’re together, she usually lets me have my way,” Feng Xiaobao said, recalling that the Princess was indeed tolerant, never losing her temper with him—remarkably patient, especially for someone of her rank. (The truth was, his modern mannerisms had left her perplexed. He treated her with neither obsequiousness nor fear, and she sensed that, in his heart, he didn’t place her on a pedestal. People always have a streak of perversity; even the Princess wasn’t immune.)

So, why not try to keep both options open?

They sat in the pavilion halfway up the mountain, talking about themselves. The day had been hectic, leaving them little chance for conversation until now.

“Is your family’s ranch large?”

“Yes, our ranch is in Liangzhou. You could ride for three days and nights and still not reach its edge!”

What a surprise—she’s not just beautiful and wealthy, but from a powerful family! My apologies, he thought.

But the Tang family was even more than that. Their influence in Liangzhou was immense. Every year, the Tang army purchased large numbers of horses from them. Though they were of nomadic origin, they were staunch citizens of the Tang Empire and refused to collude with outsiders. This loyalty, combined with their consolidation of ranches, earned them the support of the Tang military.

“How are things in Liangzhou?”

“It’s hard to say,” Tang Tian replied. “We used to fight with the Turks often, but they’ve quieted down a lot in recent years. Lately, though, the court is embroiled in fierce battles with Tibet. Our family has sent a large number of horses to support the front.”

The great war between the Tang army and Tibet was the major event of the year. General Xue Rengui led a hundred thousand soldiers against Tibet as the Grand Commander of the Luosuo Route, consuming vast resources. The Tang family ranches contributed many horses.

With so many horses sold, payments were often delayed (the Tang military was strapped for funds). If it weren’t for their business ventures in the western regions, even the Tang family would struggle to stay afloat.

He couldn’t help much with her family’s affairs for now, but by giving the Tang family exclusive distribution rights for soap, Feng Xiaobao hoped to help, if only a little. Though people weren’t accustomed to using soap for hygiene, the fragrant scent it left was irresistible, and its convenience made it popular among nomads longing for Central Plains civilization. Using it removed the odor of sheep from their bodies, but it was hard to find in Liangzhou—production was still limited, and even the capitals of Chang’an and Luoyang faced shortages.

As they chatted, footsteps approached; it was Chief Stewardess Ding Shiyi Niang, bringing supper with her attendants.

Tea and delicate pastries—what a treat.

Feng Xiaobao tried a cheesecake and couldn’t help but praise it.

“If you like it, that’s wonderful!” Ding Shiyi Niang said earnestly. “We sent people to Luoyang to learn about cuisine and pastry-making. They only returned recently, so you’re the first to try these, sir.”

In the past, the Princess rarely visited—maybe once or twice a year—so the villa felt little pressure to improve. The food was terrible, the cook being a butcher moonlighting at the stove.

But now, with both the Princess and Feng Xiaobao visiting regularly—both gourmets—the villa’s dining had to evolve.

“What are those?” Feng Xiaobao asked, noticing a stack of booklets on a tray.

“Those are the account books,” Ding Shiyi Niang replied. “The Princess instructed us to keep you informed, as you’re also an owner.”

“Just give me the highlights—I don’t have time to look at those,” Feng Xiaobao said, preoccupied with courting.

“Of course!” So she summarized: profits were about one hundred strings of cash a day!

“We’ve already cornered half the suet market in Luoyang and purchased three hills for firewood!” The business was thriving, and Ding Shiyi Niang’s eyes sparkled with excitement.

“She’d make a first-rate CEO in modern times,” Feng Xiaobao thought, and asked, “Have you dealt with all the waste materials?”

“Yes!” Ding Shiyi Niang replied quickly. “We’ve buried the waste and planted trees over it. The hills we cleared for firewood have been replanted with saplings—both timber and fruit trees. They’re well cared for and growing nicely.”

All of this was according to Feng Xiaobao’s instructions. The Princess never interfered and was open to advice, which made Feng Xiaobao appreciate her good temper even more—another reason to keep both options open.

After discussing business for a while, Feng Xiaobao asked casually, “Is there anything else?”

Ding Shiyi Niang hesitated, then said, “The Princess bought thirty-five hundred mu of land.”

“Oh!” Feng Xiaobao exclaimed in surprise. “That’s quite an investment. People were willing to sell?”

“Yes, the purchase went through, but with drought and frost pests, there’s little harvest, yet we still have to pay grain taxes to the court.” She laid out the trouble the villa was facing—something that worried both her and the Princess.

This was the ninth year of Xianheng in the Tang Dynasty, a time of constant disasters. Last year had seen floods and droughts, this year brought drought and frost pests again. The people were hungry and struggling, and the court was suffering as well, forced to provide relief. With undeveloped productivity and poor transport, there was no way to move large amounts of grain quickly to the needy.

In fact, Empress Wu worked out of Luoyang partly because Chang’an was short on food.

Landowners were forced to sell due to drought, and the Princess’s thirty-five hundred mu came from this backdrop.

“Is there a problem with the land?”

“Shortage of water, and locusts,” Ding Shiyi Niang reported.

That was indeed a serious problem—no water meant no crops, and the locusts devoured whatever the farmers managed to grow, a disaster for agriculture!

Strictly speaking, Ding Shiyi Niang shouldn’t have brought such matters to Feng Xiaobao, but she was in a difficult position. As a woman overseeing the inner estate, she was responsible for a total of sixty-five hundred mu of land! Outwardly glamorous, but in truth, every step was treacherous. Many resented her, many gossiped.

The Princess, as a member of the imperial family, stood aloof and was difficult to approach. Advising her on when to fertilize or fight pests was impossible—her life consisted of receiving reports and reviewing results.

But without her clear instructions and support, Ding Shiyi Niang found it hard to act.

Feng Xiaobao, on the other hand, was respected and knowledgeable about rural affairs. With his support, even the Princess would have no objections, and no one would dare challenge him.

“Short of water?” Feng Xiaobao said, puzzled. “Why not just build some irrigation works?”

“As for locusts, why not just exterminate them?”

“Yes!” Ding Shiyi Niang was nearly in tears. Of course, they needed irrigation, but it wasn’t as if the Princess could go inspect the site herself, and without her authority...

“Is there a problem?” asked Feng Xiaobao, perceptive as always.

“They say the earth dragon must not be disturbed, it’s ancestral feng shui,” Ding Shiyi Niang replied, adding fuel to the fire. “And they claim locusts are sent from heaven—”

Feng Xiaobao bristled with anger. “What nonsense! This land belongs to the Princess. Since when do they have the right to decide what happens here?”

He knew perfectly well that the people of this era were superstitious; commoners feared disturbing the feng shui, and saw locusts as heaven-sent disasters they dared not provoke. The educated gentry believed such calamities were punishment from Heaven for a ruler’s lack of virtue. The solution, they said, was to pray, admit fault, cultivate virtue, and perhaps even put a few “scapegoats” to death to appease the heavens.

This view was gaining popularity: with Empress Wu in power—an empress ruling in place of men—male officials were increasingly critical. Any disaster was blamed on her. As for disaster relief... well, they secretly hoped for more disasters, more often. Even if Empress Wu had three heads and six arms, she still needed male officials to carry out her orders; if they weren’t diligent, the disasters only worsened, and people suffered more and more. Food prices soared, making life ever harder for the people—and for the court too.

Feng Xiaobao understood Ding Shiyi Niang’s calculations, but this was also the home of someone dear to him, so he decided to lend a hand.

After Ding Shiyi Niang withdrew, Feng Xiaobao and Tang Tian continued their conversation before retiring for the night.

That night, strange echoes drifted over the villa, mingling with the barking of dogs and the honking of geese.