Chapter Twenty-Four: The Calamity of Floods

After returning from her shopping trip, another three months slipped by. Summer in the south was always the hardest to endure, especially a summer without air conditioning or even a fan. The rooms, though stocked with ice, still felt like stifling steamers. The sun blazed ceaselessly in the sky, and not a hint of wind stirred the air. Even the cicadas in the trees seemed to conspire against everyone, their monotonous cries adding to the irritation.

During the hottest days of summer, Liu Qin wilted like the leaves in the courtyard—listless, shriveled, all her lively energy retreating to some distant, cooler place. Whenever she lay lazily on the not-at-all-cool couch, she especially missed the air-conditioned room of her previous life, her fan, her ice cream, her frozen yogurt…

Illness became her refuge—heatstroke was the perfect excuse to skip classes that summer. One day it was a stomachache, the next a headache, then aching hands and feet. Whatever worked, she simply didn’t want to go to class or study. In such oppressive heat, she had no patience to listen to Teacher Zhang’s endless lecturing.

Teacher Zhang was deeply exasperated by Liu Qin’s laziness and brought it up to Master Liu more than once, but Master Liu never took it seriously. He merely smiled and dismissed the matter, until finally Teacher Zhang stopped mentioning it altogether, as if he’d never had such a pupil.

Jiang Li and Little Hai still attended class every day. Liu Qin most admired Little Hai—how could such a young child have such strong self-discipline? Every day’s schedule was followed to the minute, as if he were programmed like a computer. Sigh, it seemed Little Hai must be a robot after all. But she would never be a robot—Liu Qin was determined to play her role as the family’s beloved little troublemaker to the end, and with everyone in the Liu household doting on her, she certainly had the confidence to do so.

Every afternoon, Jiang Li would come to the Plum Courtyard to explain in simple terms what Teacher Zhang had taught that morning, and then guide Liu Qin’s hand as she practiced writing. With over twenty years of prior experience, Liu Qin picked up everything at once, grasping new concepts and connecting them with ease, making Jiang Li’s job much easier. But when it came to handwriting, she always fell short. Mostly, it was because she was lazy—unless Jiang Li held her hand, she refused to pick up the brush. So, despite writing many characters, she made almost no progress.

There were two other reasons for this. First, though Liu Qin was small, her heart was not. She especially enjoyed the feeling of Jiang Li holding her hand as they wrote together—being so close to such a handsome boy was a thrill she relished. Naturally, she couldn’t focus on writing and thus made no progress. The second reason was a small act of self-preservation—she didn’t want to be seen as a prodigy. It wasn’t wise to appear too clever, so sometimes she deliberately acted less capable, letting others think, “Ah, this child is only average after all.”

On this particular day, it was time for Jiang Li’s lesson. Liu Qin propped her chin on her palms, gazing at the earnest young teacher before her, eyes sparkling with admiration. So handsome, just so handsome! She was so entranced she nearly drooled—until a sharp pain on her forehead broke her reverie. Jiang Li flicked her head with his finger and scolded, “What are you daydreaming about? I’ve called you several times. If you don’t pay attention in class, you’ll be punished, understand?”

“Brother Jiang Li, that hurt!” Sensing trouble, Liu Qin immediately deployed her secret weapon—her eyes filled with unshed tears, her expression pitiful.

Jiang Li’s heart softened at once. He reached out to rub her forehead, coaxing her gently, “It was my fault, I’m sorry. Be good, don’t cry.” Seeing she still pouted, he hesitated, then said, “How about you only write one page of characters today?”

“No!” Liu Qin lifted her chin with pride. “Two pages. But you have to write with me.”

“All right, all right. I’ll write with you,” Jiang Li relented.

Poor Jiang Li, the earnest young teacher, was utterly at the mercy of this faux-innocent girl, completely unable to resist her. Outside the window, the fragrance of osmanthus drifted on the air, sweet and heady, weaving itself into memory—a sweetness that would linger for years to come.

In the Wu City prefectural office, Master Liu Cheng was not as fortunate as his little sister. He hadn’t been home for two days, and now a thin stubble shadowed his weary face, clear evidence of sleepless nights. He sat in a spacious room with all the windows wide open. The weather was fine, and occasionally a breeze drifted through, but Liu Cheng’s expression was grim, especially after reading the documents in his hands—his face darkened further, almost as if water might drip from it.

“Judging by your face, more bad news?” The authoritative voice of the Prefect, Master Liu, interrupted as he strode in.

“Father.” Liu Cheng quickly stood, yielding the main seat to his father and serving tea before taking a subordinate place himself. He sighed deeply before speaking, “The worst news, in fact. The levees in the Hengzhou region have collapsed. An entire prefecture—thirteen counties and over a hundred towns—has been flooded. The hardest hit are Huaxing and Heng’an counties, now nothing but a vast expanse of water. Hundreds of thousands of people, Father! Who knows how many have managed to escape?”

Liu Cheng’s voice grew heavier as he spoke. Master Liu slammed the table and stood in outrage. “What? Didn’t the last court bulletin claim Hengzhou’s defenses were impregnable?”

“Impregnable? Father, you know Jin Hudan’s reputation—he’s only good at self-promotion. He has no real skills except lining his own pockets. The court has allocated substantial funds for levee reinforcement these past years, but with Hengzhou’s defenses collapsing so quickly, it’s clear the money was never used for construction—it all went into his purse.”

“Scoundrel! Scoundrel!” Master Liu cursed furiously.

“This year’s weather has been unlike any before—torrential rains have lashed the southeast. From what I’ve discovered, this flood is the most severe in nearly a century. As the Han River flows through Yunzhou and Hengzhou, the terrain narrows the river, making it more prone to overflow. These facts should have commanded the court’s attention. But Jin Hudan, bold as he is corrupt, not only embezzled the levee funds, he deceived his superiors as well. If not for a memorial from Yunzhou, the court would still be in the dark. But even so, it was too late—inspectors hadn’t even arrived before the levees gave way.”

Master Liu, a veteran official, gradually regained his composure, though his features remained clouded with anger. “Has your second brother written?”

“Yes. He says Yunzhou is also in grave danger. However, Prefect Xu has handled the situation well—reporting promptly to the court and mobilizing both officials and civilians to reinforce the levees. Thanks to earlier inspections and repairs under my brother’s supervision, they have held out for now. But if the rains continue, he doesn’t know how much longer they can last. Yunzhou is upstream of Hengzhou, so it faces even greater pressure from the Han River.”

Having said this, both men fell silent. The room grew increasingly oppressive, and even the sky outside seemed to sense it—clouds gathered, thunder rumbled, and soon, heavy rain began to fall, growing ever more intense.

Only the Han River, winding its way across the nation from west to east and giving the country its name, remained indifferent—roaring and surging toward the east, unconcerned whether it brought disaster or blessing. It simply followed its course, unstoppable, leaving it to the world to judge whether it was a calamity or a gift of fate.