ITVCFITB CHAPTER 55

 Chapter 55 — Gearing Up for the North

Back home, Luo Shuyu ordered Li Mingjin to change out of those stinky-tofu-scented clothes or he’d be exiled to the little couch for the night.

Li Mingjin wasn’t a mindless foodie who hauled snacks around all day. He was just naturally curious about new tastes, maybe a way to make up for a starved childhood. Before, he hadn’t eaten such things because he had no one to spoil him. Now, with someone who loved and trusted him, his heart had loosened.

New and odd flavors especially called to him like the stinky tofu, and previously, deep-fried durian.

Shuyu would have preferred baked sweet potatoes or roast pig’s feet, at least you could tell what went into them. That tofu? Who knew. It made him worry himself into a knot.

He didn’t tell Mingjin he’d gone to the palace, but thinking of how reluctant Mingjin was to part, and that he’d petitioned the Emperor himself, Shuyu decided to let the snack incident go. He’d pretend to sulk a bit, then drop it.

He only hoped Consort Mei could push the Emperor to a decision quickly, so he could start packing.

Leaving the imperial hall that morning, he’d sensed the Emperor wavering, the answer wasn’t a hard no. That was good.

As for Mingjin’s request getting rejected outright, well, that was because the man didn’t talk. He could just picture the tone he’d used. But with Mingjin laying the groundwork and Shuyu following with a heartfelt plea, plus invoking the founding emperor, how could the Emperor refuse? If Consort Mei added her voice, it would become a “family” discussion, scratching the Emperor’s recent itch for family warmth.

A plan made on impulse, but executed step by step.

He was following north to care for Li, not to disrupt the army. He wasn’t here to stir up trouble.

There was another factor the Emperor had to consider: Mingjin’s illness. If it flared, then what?

Shuyu also wanted the north for another reason, finding the “Poison-Curer.” The book’s descriptions were bare text; no illustrations to etch faces in memory. He only remembered a slightly lame old man, ordinary at a glance, no one would guess his medical skill.

A man who’d spent his life tasting herbs, cracking poisons. Simple-minded in other ways, simple enough to be fooled by a random pill of Shen Mingyun’s.

While Mingjin fretted over the Emperor’s refusal, Consort Mei, who hadn’t left Changle Palace in ages, went to petition His Majesty.

The harem buzzed. Consort Mei seeking an audience? A bid for favor, surely. But when they learned she’d pleaded for the third prince’s consort to go north, tongues fell silent. Since when did a mother-in-law shove her son’s spouse toward hardship? How villainous!

Speculation bloomed: Consort Mei was cold to her son and now to her son’s spouse; no, she was scheming to snag the first imperial grandson in a northern barracks; no, she was playing the long game for favor…

The rear palace thrived on idle guesses.

Consort Mei heard and merely shook her head, then went back to planting cabbages and eggplants in Changle Palace, carting the surplus to the third prince’s household as usual.

News of her visit spread; Li Mingjin heard soon enough.

The next day, the Emperor summoned the couple.

On the carriage ride in, Mingjin kept staring at Shuyu. “You went to see Mother Consort yesterday. Why?”

Luo just smiled, driving him mad. “We just chatted.”

“Then why did she go straight to Father after you left?” He suspected but didn’t dare be sure.

Shuyu played dumb. Mingjin hadn’t told him about his own petition either. The man clearly wanted him to come north but said nothing. A little payback was warranted.

He still hadn’t pried an answer loose by the time they stood before the Emperor.

Lin Guifei had just left, yet another plea for her family. The Emperor was thoroughly annoyed. Seeing this affectionate, bright-eyed young couple soothed him at once.

He waved them to seats. “Sit. Must you be so stiff with me?”

Mingjin flopped down and tugged Luo down beside him.

The Emperor laughed. “You child. Yesterday, Consort Mei put in a word for you about Shuyu going north.”

Mingjin turned, startled. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Shuyu tilted him a side-eye. “You didn’t tell me you’d asked to take me.”

“Father didn’t agree,” Li muttered, rubbing his nose. He looked up, eager. “Father, are you calling us here because… you changed your mind?”

The Emperor pointed at him, amused by this henpecked look. “Quick on the uptake, aren’t you.”

Li’s eyes lit. “Truly?”

The Emperor sighed. “And if I said no again, what then?”

Li was frank. “Then I’d quietly take him anyway.”

The Emperor couldn’t help a laugh. “Shuyu’s words yesterday did move me. Since ancient times, husband leads, spouse follows, there’s precedent. Fine. I permit it. Go together. Put safety first. And write regularly from the north, report peace.”

Mingjin answered at once. “Yes.”

Shuyu also beamed. “I’ll make sure His Highness writes.”

As long as the Emperor agreed, they’d keep him sweet and avoid any backtracking.

An emperor’s word is supposed to be iron; the Heavenly Sage Emperor wouldn’t likely go back on it. For now, at least, he looked at Shuyu with real fatherly warmth, best to use that while it lasted.

With permission granted, they stayed for lunch.

Mingjin was visibly happier, polishing off an extra bowl. The Emperor’s own foul mood, thanks to Lin Guifei, cleared. Guilt pricked at him; perhaps he owed this son more protections.

Afterward, over tea, and just as they were about to take their leave, the Emperor had his chief eunuch fetch a twenty-four-section iron whip, once used by the founding emperor, from his private stores.

Mingjin couldn’t put it down. He took it into the courtyard and ran a set on the spot.

The Emperor nodded, pleased. “When it comes to the whip, no one outranks Mingjin.”

Shuyu watched, dazzled. The whip seemed made for his hand.

Father–son warmth appeased, they finally left the palace.

In the carriage, fingers laced tight, they didn’t relax until they reached home.

“Since you’re coming with me,” Mingjin said, “the road will be rough and freezing, but I’ll protect you with everything I have.”

Shuyu shook his head. “Don’t worry about me. Going north with you is what I want. I don’t want to be apart from you, not even for a moment.”

Mingjin’s chest went hot. He’d thought it was a one-sided wish; he hadn’t guessed Shuyu was secretly working to make it happen. Maybe his own push had given Shuyu the opening.

“Then let’s prepare properly,” he said.

“Mm. We’ve got time. Let’s make a list. What do you want to bring?”

“One list each,” Li said. “Then we compare.”

They headed to the study, each taking a desk. Luo bent over his paper, thinking through what the north lacked, he’d heard even tea was scarce.

Mingjin… stared at his consort instead. He absently wrote the same character over and over.

When Shuyu came over with three pages, he saw Mingjin’s sheet: line after line of the same two characters: “Luo Shuyu.”

He sighed, helpless. “Your Highness. Focus.”

“That’s all I’m bringing,” Mingjin said, dead serious. “My treasure. The heirloom of our house.”

“You’re incorrigible. I’m getting the steward.”

“How am I not serious?”

“I asked for supplies. You filled a page with my name. That’s wasting paper.”

“Not wasted. Our Shuyu is priceless.”

“Did you smear honey on your lips today? So sweet.”

He pecked Shuyu’s mouth. “Want a taste?”

Shuyu shoved his paper over Mingjin’s face. “No flirting. Think.”

He left for the main courtyard and summoned Steward Sun to start preparations. Not just goods, they’d need attendants too. It was practically moving house, though their “household” was only the two of them.

At first Shuyu had only planned a modest kit, clothes, jerky, wine. He hadn’t expected the Emperor to agree so readily.

This would differ from the book’s northern journey for Shen Mingyun and the fourth prince. They might be staying longer; Shen’s luck wouldn’t rub off on them. Better to hunt down the Poison-Curer step by steady step.

Beyond poisons, that old man had another hobby: collecting good wine.

So: special vintages, fewer types, but fine ones.

With a target in mind, Luo told Steward Sun to scour the capital for distinctive wines. Not much of each, quality over quantity.

Mingjin skimmed Shuyu’s list. “Why so many kinds of wine? Shouldn’t we bring more wine? Soldiers drink by the bowl. These little jars won’t scratch an itch.”

“Don’t even think about my wine,” Luo warned. “I have plans for it.”

“You’re going to sell wine up north?”

“Use your brain. No. When it’s time, you’ll see. Hands off.”

Mingjin grumbled, “All that wouldn’t even quench my thirst.”

“Drink less,” Shuyu said. “I hear men who drink hard hit their thirties with potbellies. Hideous.”

“You’ll despise me when I’m old?”

“Mm. Middle-aged leading man is my type. You planning to turn ugly? You might not even be able to bend down.”

Mingjin pictured it and winced. “That is ugly. Like that idle prince next door, always swanning around with his gut. Fine, I’ll cut back.”

“Good.” Shuyu brightened. “Also: the north is dry, no rice, mostly wheat. Should we ask Mother Consort for seeds that would do well? If we plant in spring, we can help folks keep warm and fed next winter.”

Mingjin’s thoughts raced. “Mother may not be comprehensive. I’ll ask Father for agricultural experts to accompany us. If anyone has people, it’s him.”

That jogged Shuyu’s memory. In the book, Shen used his system to predict shortages and had the fourth prince haul drought-tolerant seeds north, solving rations and winning the people’s hearts after a blizzard, turning skeptical soldiers into die-hards.

Now the path had split: the third prince would go north; the fourth prince south. Forewarned was forearmed.

“Good idea,” Shuyu said. “Your Highness is wise. Let’s write a request.”

Mingjin didn’t pry. That trust made warmth bloom under Shuyu’s skin.

“Excellent,” Li said. “We’ll go back to the palace with the list. Father’s storerooms are deep. If we think of it, we’ll write it down.”

“Are we… abusing favor?” Shuyu teased.

“While Father’s favor is warm,” Mingjin said briskly, “we take what we can.”

Shuyu laughed. “Sounds logical.”

Over the next two days, Shuyu wrung every detail he could from memory, listing seed varieties. Mingjin, meanwhile, acquired an alarming array of “new fun things” like edibles, potables, gear until half the city was whispering that sending the third prince north was the Emperor’s greatest blunder yet. Memorials even hit the throne, begging for a reversal.

“He’s not going to war,” people scoffed. “He’s going on a picnic.”

The Emperor heard. He summoned Mingjin to ask what in heaven’s name he was doing.

Mingjin arrived with a freshly recopied inventory from Steward Sun.

He presented it. “Father, please provide everything on this list.”

The Emperor flipped through the thick stack. “…Why are there people and seeds on here?”

“With people, we plant crops,” Mingjin said, perfectly righteous. “Grow good food. If rations run short, my consort might go hungry.”

The Emperor’s head throbbed. The boy wasn’t going to war or to picnic, he was going to play house with his spouse where no parent could supervise.

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Author’s Note:
Third Prince: Sweetheart, do you think the… supplies I bought are enough for the road?
Luo Shuyu: …

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