27. This Boy Must Not Be Allowed to Live!

“To meet under the moonlight at the Jade Terrace. Listen to this, listen well—such blatant audacity and shamelessness!”

Prince Teng was so furious that he kept pounding the railing. Those around him, however, held the copied manuscript carefully, savoring every word. It was already dusk; the mist hung thick over the vast Gan River, the waves stretched endlessly, and white egrets were returning to their nests, perfectly matching the line, “The sunset and the solitary wild goose fly together.”

There was no denying the talent—he truly was gifted. But talent alone doesn’t put food on the table. He was nothing more than a minor local official of the ninth rank, barely an official at all—a mere clerk. Even the county’s constables held the same rank; his ninth-rank status was only granted out of courtesy, owing to his service to the young prince.

If such a person truly managed to win over the prince’s precious daughter, would it not be a disgrace to the prince’s reputation? How could he face his fellow brothers and colleagues afterward?

Moreover, even if Prince Teng chose to turn a blind eye, once the young prince ascended the throne, the Poyang princess would inevitably be elevated to full princess status. Her consort would then be a prince consort, and in all likelihood, such a consort would come from a prestigious family or be the son of a high official.

Royal marriage arrangements were governed by strict tradition; the princess had no say in the matter.

Could she marry while still a princess of the county? Even if the emperor granted the match, it was possible. But otherwise, no. Both the princess and the county princess were political pawns used by the young prince to secure loyalty. Their marriages were gifts bestowed on those useful in his future struggle against the high chancellor.

Rushing to marry her off now, regardless of the justification, would be seen as deliberately undermining the larger plan.

Such accusations were hard to shake off. Everyone said that serving a monarch was like serving a tiger—no one knew if the future emperor of the Great Wei would purge those deemed inconvenient. After all, both the Kings of Wu and Yue had already been demoted to commoners. Though not full brothers, they were still kin. The royal family’s ruthlessness was no mere threat; once displeased, disaster could follow.

Could Prince Teng understand this? Certainly. Born a minor prince with no official duties, he had led a carefree life and had his share of romantic entanglements. Reflecting honestly, none had been superficial or careless, yet most ended in vain, all because of the disparity in status and position.

Therefore, the best course was to separate the two quickly. With time and youthful impulsiveness, if another suitable match appeared, this unfortunate connection could be severed.

That said, the young man’s talent was undeniable. His writings were filled with romance and elegance, even composing the treasured “Preface to the Pavilion of Prince Teng,” a work Prince Teng himself held dear.

This gave the arrangement a legitimate excuse.

After much thought, Prince Teng avoided his troublesome friends and stepped outside.

“Sun Cheng, withdraw 100,000 taels of silver from the imperial treasury and deliver it to Xia Lin. Then, proclaim throughout the realm that Prince Teng once promised a thousand gold pieces for a satisfactory article; now that the article is complete, the reward is hereby presented. Remind him, since he claims to revitalize his homeland, this 100,000 taels is his starting fund. Let him show some results to me—I despise those who only talk without action.”

“Yes, sir. I will attend to it immediately.”

That very evening, Xia Lin received a voucher for 100,000 taels. He was initially stunned, and upon learning it was from Prince Teng, his first thought was, “Take this one billion and leave my daughter behind.” He even mused that Prince Teng had a domineering nature.

But when he heard it was a reward for composing the “Preface to the Pavilion of Prince Teng,” he was even more bewildered. Not even Wang Bo, the original author, would be worth such a sum. Was Prince Teng trying to buy his silence?

By the time he reached the third tier of the pavilion, he learned that the money was actually the New Ping County Development Fund. Only then did he realize how clever these old nobles were.

One coin was used for three purposes—these schemers were truly devious. They wanted him to stay away from the young princess, serve as a public relations tool, and pull political achievements for them.

Fortunately, Xia Lin had spent his early years struggling at the bottom; if he had started under these conditions, he might not have survived to the next year’s summer.

There were two ways to handle the situation: either stubbornly oppose the prince and become an unpopular copper refiner, or accept the money and fame, leave with honor and hope, return to develop his homeland, help New Ping County grow, and gradually climb to the top, becoming the Xia Gao he dreamed of.

Honestly, the young princess was adorable, but just a cute little sister, not a lover. To give up 100,000 taels and a good reputation for a little sister was not a wise trade. Besides, their relationship was ordinary; the prince likely misunderstood.

He wouldn’t bother explaining—the more beautiful the misunderstanding, the better.

From the prince’s attendant’s words, it was clear the order was to send him away. Xia Lin simply said he would pay his respects to the prince the next morning.

“No need. The prince is busy. He means you should take your money and leave quickly.”

“I should at least say goodbye to the young princess. Otherwise, she’ll get anxious. You know her nature—she might do something reckless.”

The attendant, a trusted confidant who had watched the young princess grow up, understood her foolishness and agreed.

“Write her a letter. I will accompany you with it.”

Xia Lin sighed and began composing a letter to the young princess, explaining that the village had been hit by floods and he had to return to deal with the disaster. He asked her to stay safe and promised to return during the next official report. Of course, the letter avoided any sentimental words, lest the foolish girl attempt to sneak away to New Ping County.

When the letter reached the young princess the next morning, she read it twice, hardly believing it. As expected, she ran wildly to Xia Lin’s residence, but he had already left alone, even leaving old Zhang behind.

Unable to find Xia Lin, she encountered old Zhang, who said, “Prince Teng gave him 100,000 taels and ordered him to develop the county, not even allowing you to see each other.”

“How could this be!” The young princess burst into tears—women are made of water, after all. Her ability to cry on a whim was truly unmatched.

“What to do? Anyone with eyes can tell you care for him. But he is insignificant now, and you might think it’s all just fleeting pleasure. But if you were truly together, not only would you offend the young prince, you’d also incur Prince Teng’s displeasure. Xia Lin asked me to tell you that love without blessings leads nowhere. Don’t pine for him; he will work diligently. When he succeeds and gains fame, he will have the standing to look you in the eye.”

At this, the young princess cried uncontrollably, tears dripping down her chin—heartbroken, helpless, wronged, and longing for that scoundrel.

But none of that was Xia Lin’s words—it was all old Zhang’s invention.

Xia Lin’s actual words were, “Damn, we got the money. Better get some sleep; I have to leave early tomorrow.”

Old Zhang had anticipated the princess would come looking for Xia Lin, so he crafted this speech to leave a message. When she arrived, he used it, but didn’t expect it to upset her so much that even he was at a loss.

As for why old Zhang didn’t return with Xia Lin, that was by design. Xia Lin said, “Finally, you’ve found a respectable grand scholar to attach yourself to. Keep him happy. Even if you can’t get a position, being the student or godson of a renowned figure is better than coming with me to some backwater to develop land.”

Old Zhang had no objections. Learning how to be a loyal follower was now his top priority. Their shared goal was to rise—to climb so high that anyone who had bullied them would obediently eat dirt at their command.

The young princess left in a daze, while old Zhang, filled with melancholy, gazed out the window into the distance, sighing deeply. When he turned back, his expression changed; straightening his clothes, he put on a warm smile, gathered his brushes, ink, paper, and pigments, and stepped out.

Today, old Zhang planned to mingle with the elite to discuss painting techniques and seek to apprentice under Yu Shinan.

Meanwhile, Xia Lin lay on a cargo ship. The day was bright and sunny, the breeze steady, the vessel gliding smoothly. Though it was his first time traveling without old Zhang in over three years, he felt a twinge of loss. But this rare opportunity had to be seized, giving old Zhang his chance to shine.

As for himself, he intended to complete the tasks entrusted to him.

One hundred thousand taels—enough to transform New Ping County into a self-sustaining ecological marvel. Not only establishing workshops and mines, but also setting up an iron research and development department. While handcrafting nuclear weapons was impossible, efficient textile machines, various iron tools, and even weaponry were all within reach.

New Ping County was a land blessed with exceptional natural resources; if all went well, they might even smelt steel within three years.

No need to say more—he was grateful to Prince Teng for this lavish benefaction.