AEOGA CH31

Before heading south, Xie Chongjin and Lu Xuechao laid out everyone’s tasks, ensuring that even if they left the capital for a month, no chaos would erupt in Yujing.

Their journey south this time was not purely for leisure, but even more so for disaster relief.

Changli was divided into north and south by a single Lin River. The area south of the Lin River was known as Jiangnan, encompassing three regions: Quling, Yunzhou, and Quancheng. The summer resort Imperial Villa was built in Yunzhou. These three regions were a land of fish and rice, prosperous and affluent, and traditionally served as a major source of tax revenue for the imperial court.

Jiangnan was prone to rain, and in recent years, continuous torrential downpours had brought unending floods, submerging countless farmlands. Jiangnan also cultivated vast amounts of paddy rice. Once the farmlands were destroyed, the common people reaped no harvest, and their lives became agonizingly difficult. What was originally a wealthy and prosperous land was now packed with disaster victims, corpses piling in the fields, making it impossible to pay taxes. To prevent the tax revenue reported to the imperial court from looking too dire, local officials forcibly coerced local wealthy merchants into donating money and grain, sparking immense resentment among the merchants toward the court.

At its root, the money that should have been spent on water conservancy construction had been embezzled by players to build the imperial villa. In a region plagued by floods, a lack of water conservancy infrastructure naturally led to disaster year after year. Concealing major disasters without reporting them was a capital offense; whenever local officials submitted memorials regarding the disaster, players either sat idly by or issued orders for disaster relief. However, with half the imperial court rotting in corruption, most of the money and grain sent down for relief were embezzled layer by layer, with barely a bowl of thin gruel actually reaching the hands of the common people. If the disaster victims rioted, players simply dispatched armed force to suppress them, using crude and violent methods.

In the game, aside from the five explicit stats, the Emperor actually possessed hidden stats like Prestige and Popularity. In his memories of his past life, during those years when Xie Chongjin was controlled, disasters broke out all across the country—floods in the south and severe droughts in the north, and the people were stripped of their livelihoods. Yet in Yujing, the Emperor indulged in sensory pleasures, ignoring all state affairs, knowing only how to slaughter and suppress refugees. When such incidents happened too often, Prestige and Popularity plunged to rock bottom, eventually triggering the ending where he was killed by rioters.

In past years when Xie Chongjin went south, he always brought along a group of consorts. The honor guard was grand and ostentatious, making a massive scene; local officials would lead line after line of finely dressed “commoners” to welcome him on both sides of the street, letting him eat and drink comfortably in the luxurious imperial villa for a few days. Having witnessed the prosperity of Jiangnan, he could then return to the palace with peace of mind. As for the ragged refugees hidden behind that sleek facade, officials had long ordered guards to block them, making sure they would never run up before His Majesty to offend his eyes.

Fu Xinian was a scholar from Jiangnan. The very first thing he did after earning his imperial exam degree was to present a memorial before the Emperor regarding the disaster in Jiangnan, pleading for the people.

Therefore, the very first thing Xie Chongjin did after breaking free from control and purging the imperial court was to invest all the silver confiscated from family purges into farmland, water conservancy, and transportation construction, as well as reducing taxes and opening granaries to distribute food—these were the true matters that concerned the people’s livelihood.

Xie Chongjin had already dispatched an Imperial Envoy to Jiangnan for disaster relief, but torrential rains in Jiangnan several months ago had washed away the roads and bridges connecting Quling and Yunzhou, and they had yet to be repaired to this day. The disaster relief team was delayed on the road. According to news from the front, it would take another half a month of repairs before they could set off. If Xie Chongjin departed immediately, arriving in Quling in exactly half a month, he could merge with the main force.

Xie Chongjin decided to simply make the trip to Jiangnan himself to see the disaster relief situation with his own eyes.

After settling matters in the capital, Xie Chongjin changed into plain clothes and ordered a carriage to be prepared outside the palace.

To reach Quling as quickly as possible, riding swift horses at full speed would be the best choice. But fearing that Lu Xuechao’s health could not take the strain, Xie Chongjin chose a comfortable carriage instead. Hurrying along the way, they would still be able to arrive within half a month.

When Lu Xuechao saw the carriage parked beneath the tree with not a single soul around, he could not help but ask, “Where is the coachman?”

Xie Chongjin took Lu Xuechao’s hand, helping him climb into the carriage, and then sat down on the driver’s seat himself. He put on his mask and gripped the whip in his hand: “Right here.”

“You’re acting as my coachman?” Lu Xuechao lifted the curtain, asking in surprise, “This trip… it really won’t just be the two of us, will it?”

Not bringing even a single palace servant, guard, or coachman?

…This was a bit too extreme.

“When I said two people, I meant two people. Adding even one coachman wouldn’t count as two people.” Xie Chongjin did not feel there was anything extreme about it.

Having experienced so many worlds where he could not stay together with Lu Xuechao, separated by life and death, once he suddenly regained his freedom, he wished he could abandon the entire world, cast aside all the chaos and noise, ignore everything, and stay only with Lu Xuechao.

In so many worlds, he did not have Lu Xuechao.

Why couldn’t there be one time where his world contained only Lu Xuechao?

Why did he have to consider the people of the world? After being tormented life after life, who could still hold the world in their heart? He had long cared only about Lu Xuechao alone. When his hatred reached its peak, Xie Chongjin had even thought that it would be better if the entire world were destroyed. He could pay any price, including himself, just to ask for Qingshu to enjoy a life of peace, return to the heavens, and become a carefree immortal under the moon.

…Do not fall into the mortal realm, come to his side, and suffer such pain.

Xie Chongjin had once entertained such selfish thoughts. He was no saint; after having his fate toyed with to such an extent, he could not be devoid of resentment, and he too could not help but breed dark, self-abandoning thoughts. But when he snapped back to clarity and saw Lu Xuechao laboring tirelessly to revive Changli, he knew he still had to shoulder the responsibility of a monarch.

Neither of them was the type to place personal feelings above the country.

Xie Chongjin was busy with government affairs daily, and Lu Xuechao was equally tied up with official business. Over these past few months, both had worked tirelessly for major state affairs, rarely finding an opportunity to be alone, let alone finding time for romance—every sentence of their conversations revolved around official duties. Sleeping in the same bed at night, both were exhausted to the bone, falling asleep the moment their heads hit the pillow without any intimate gestures.

Stealing half a day of leisure from a floating life. He simply wanted to spend half a month together with Qingshu from dawn to dusk, unburdened by official duties, undisturbed by outsiders.

Anyone in his eyes other than Lu Xuechao felt entirely redundant.

“You are the Emperor. Even if this is an incognito visit, you hold your own safety far too lightly,” Lu Xuechao asked. “What if we encounter assassins?”

“It’s not as if no one is following us; hidden guards will protect us in secret. Besides—” Xie Chongjin said without a second thought, “Other than you, who else could possibly kill me?”

These words blurted out of Xie Chongjin’s mouth without passing through his brain. In his memory, he had met far too many assassins. Unless a player neglected martial arts for years and let their skills wither, combined with Xie Chongjin’s intent to seek death after Lu Xuechao died, under the dual influence of the game settings and Xie Chongjin’s own willingness, would he be killed by someone else. If Lu Xuechao was alive, in all the world, only Lu Xuechao could kill Xie Chongjin.

If Lu Xuechao was dead, Xie Chongjin refused to live alone. If Lu Xuechao was alive, Xie Chongjin would absolutely refuse to die—and if he had to die, it had to be by Lu Xuechao’s own hands.

The moment these words were spoken, the air suddenly froze for a second. Lu Xuechao pursed his lips, glanced at him, and suddenly let down the curtain.

Xie Chongjin was startled. Sensing something was wrong, he hurriedly lifted the curtain, only to see Lu Xuechao turning his head away, his hanging long hair obscuring the expression on his face.

“Qingshu?” Xie Chongjin called out carefully.

Lu Xuechao did not speak, ignoring him completely.

Xie Chongjin thought to himself, Oh no, I’ve upset him.

His words really hadn’t been spoken to blame Lu Xuechao. Quite the contrary; being killed by Lu Xuechao was actually something that brought Xie Chongjin relief and happiness, so bringing it up held no taboo for him.

Lu Xuechao kept his head lowered, his shoulders twitching slightly as his body trembled faintly.

Panicking, Xie Chongjin quickly crawled into the carriage, wrapping his arms around Lu Xuechao’s shoulders to turn him around. Lu Xuechao wasn’t crying, but a rim of red encircled his eyes—he was clearly heartbroken.

“I’m sorry, Qingshu, I said the wrong thing.” Xie Chongjin was completely at a loss, showing no trace of the emperor who strategized and commanded. “I didn’t mean to blame you… Being killed by you brought me relief, I was quite happy.”

Not only was Lu Xuechao not coaxed, but his eyes grew even redder. A tooth mark was bitten into his lips, yet he forced himself to hold back his tears. That suppressed appearance made Xie Chongjin’s heart ache to death.

He knew he had spoken wrongly, but now he had no idea how to comfort him.

Lu Xuechao raised his eyes and asked calmly, “Do you think killing you would be a happy thing for me?”

Xie Chongjin’s breathing hitched.

…Naturally, it would not be a happy thing.

Not only was it not a happy thing, it was likely an agonizing, heartbreaking matter.

He knew how heartbreaking it was.

He too… had killed Qingshu. The taste of killing the person he loved with his own hands was a pain so agonizing it still felt unbearable whenever he thought of it today. He was forced by others, while Qingshu had no choice; when it came to the degree of pain, both were identical.

He had torn open Qingshu’s scar.

To the players, their world was a game, but to them, it was no game. It wasn’t a matter of ‘you stab me once, I kill you once, so we’re even and owe nothing to each other’. That was merely a comforting rhetoric.

How could it ever be even? Every injury carved the wound on each other’s hearts deeper. Riddled with holes and dripping with blood, no matter how one pieced it back together, it was difficult to restore it to its original state.

This was something neither usually brought up intentionally, but just because it wasn’t brought up did not mean the problem ceased to exist. Often, an unintentional action or an offhand word touching upon the wound could trigger a pain that cut to the very core.

Just like at this very moment.

“Qingshu, I’m sorry.” Xie Chongjin no longer cared about driving the carriage. Dropping the curtain, the two looked at each other in the narrow space of the carriage.

Xie Chongjin’s face was full of guilt, hating himself for speaking without thinking.

Lu Xuechao, however, shook his head, his expression calming down: “There’s no need to keep apologizing to me. After gaining your past-life memories, you’ve said ‘I’m sorry’ to me so many times.”

Xie Chongjin lowered his eyes: “When one does wrong, one should apologize…”

“This isn’t anyone’s fault; neither of us needs to say sorry. If a husband and husband are always apologizing, wouldn’t we grow distant? I also don’t hope… that when we speak in the future, we have to tread on eggshells, terrified of touching upon each other’s sore spots. Doing that every few days would be quite pointless. No matter how good our relationship is, it cannot withstand being worn down like that.” Lu Xuechao looked directly at him. “My feeling sad over past events doesn’t mean you have to admit fault. I will adjust myself; you don’t need to coax me, nor do you need to apologize. Do not pin faults that do not belong to you onto yourself. Not just regarding me, but regarding Changli, and regarding Royal Father—none of it is your fault. You are not original sin, nor were you born in the wrong.”

He was truly an exceedingly calm person. The first time, he would weep; the second time, his eyes merely reddened, refusing to shed even a single tear.

He knew that Xie Chongjin also harbored many painful matters in his heart that he had never spoken aloud. He was already enduring it with immense difficulty; if he had to painstakingly coax him on top of that, Xie Chongjin wouldn’t be able to take it.

Xie Chongjin froze, pulling at the corner of his lips: “What does this… have to do with Royal Father?”

After turning eighteen, he had wronged many people. And Royal Father… died the day before his eighteenth birthday.

“Huaiyun, when I’m sad, I don’t hide it from you; so if you have something on your mind, don’t hide it from me either.” Lu Xuechao looked into his eyes. “Have you truly never considered that Royal Father, in the prime of his life, passing away so suddenly—was it to yield the position to you, the so-called protagonist of this game?”