Chapter 36.

Xue Shu’s gaze was disarmingly frank, those dark, obsidian eyes burning with raw, unfiltered emotion that stirred something deep within Yin Chengyu’s heart.

It seemed that no matter the lifetime—past or present—Xue Shu’s trust in him was unwavering, almost unnaturally so. The memory of their last life together, particularly the day Yin Chengyu returned to court, resurfaced vividly.

Back then, he had returned destitute, shrouded in disgrace, and with nothing to his name. Five long years of exile had done nothing to cleanse his name, and his reappearance only reignited the venom of his detractors. They dredged up the old scandal, accusing him of illicit affairs with Consort Rong, dragging his sullied reputation further through the mud. The factions of the Second and Third Princes wasted no time flinging more filth his way, eager to discredit him at any cost.

Though prepared for such a reception, the viciousness of their words still stung.

But Yin Chengyu had learned patience during those five years of seclusion—how to bide his time until the perfect moment to act. He knew that unless he could decisively clear his name, it was better to stay silent.

Xue Shu, however, had no such restraint.

When one particularly vocal censor resurrected the accusation of his supposed "adultery" with Consort Rong, shouting for his punishment, Xue Shu descended from the imperial dais without hesitation. Drawing a blade from a guard, he executed the man on the spot, slicing through the court’s poisonous whispers with terrifying finality.

In the stunned silence that followed, Xue Shu tossed the bloodied weapon to the ground, his expression dark and venomous. "Parroting baseless lies without knowing truth from falsehood? Such stupidity offends me," he declared coldly, his gaze sweeping over the petrified ministers.

At the time, Yin Chengyu had dismissed Xue Shu’s actions as tyrannical and domineering—a man who brooked no dissent. But now, in retrospect, he recognized the same unwavering certainty in Xue Shu’s demeanor as he saw in those eyes today.

Yet their paths had barely crossed before then. The incident of him “sharing a bed” with Consort Rong was practically an open secret, with Emperor Longfeng's decree of her death sealing the scandal as truth.

Why had Xue Shu, against all odds and public opinion, chosen to believe him?

Where did that unshakable faith come from?

Releasing his grip on Xue Shu’s wrist, Yin Chengyu leaned back, his sharp eyes scrutinizing the man before him. The questions simmering in his heart grew louder, threads unraveling into an increasingly tangled web. But he said nothing, letting the moment pass.

With deliberate ease, Yin Chengyu smoothed out the creases in his robes and rose to his feet, a sly, knowing smile curving his lips. "Let’s talk of other matters. Dispatch men to Datong, Xuanzhou, and nearby regions. Tighten control over Shanxi’s key passes—no one is to leave until the epidemic is contained. Also, mobilize twenty thousand soldiers from the Four Guard Barracks to garrison the borders. If the outbreak spirals out of control..."

His voice trailed off, the weight of unspoken consequences heavy in the air. But Xue Shu caught the meaning well enough. If the plague spread unchecked, drastic measures would be unavoidable.

He bowed his head solemnly. "Understood."

After a pause, Yin Chengyu added, “We’ll discuss further plans tomorrow. I’m retiring for the night. You may leave.”

Xue Shu inclined his head and exited quietly, shutting the door behind him with meticulous care. He lingered outside for a long moment, his shadow unmoving in the dim light. Only then did he step away, summoning the guards to relay Yin Chengyu’s orders.

After detailing the instructions, he hesitated, then added, "At dawn, send men to construct a shack outside the city, far from inhabited areas. Prepare iron cages, gather ten dogs from the countryside, and capture over a hundred rats. Keep the animals together—no food, only water."

The conversation between Yin Chengyu and the imperial physicians had piqued his interest. Though the cause of the plague was unconfirmed, Xue Shu had his suspicions. He had heard old tales about rats during famine years—how they feasted on the unburied dead, their flesh tainted by death’s foul aura. Eating such rats could bring sickness or even death, a grim warning passed down through generations.

Superstition or not, Xue Shu believed there was truth to the connection. If rats truly were the source of the outbreak, this experiment might reveal a way to stop the disease.

“Be cautious while capturing the rats,” he instructed. “Wear thick layers and cover your faces. Once the task is done, burn the clothes and have the court physicians prepare mugwort for fumigation.”

With that, he dismissed the guards, his mind already turning to the grim possibilities that lay ahead.

*

Last night, Yin Chengyu barely managed three hours of sleep before his eyes snapped open.

Outside, the faint glow of dawn crept over the horizon. Rising from his bed, he pushed open the window, letting the cool morning air spill into the room. His sharp gaze fell upon the nearly deserted streets below, where scattered shadows flitted about—a mix of frail elders, weary women, and gaunt children. They darted quickly between empty houses, their furtive movements betraying desperation as they scavenged through abandoned rooms.

He lingered there, observing in silence, his expression unreadable. It wasn’t until Xue Shu entered with water for washing that he finally shut the window, sealing off the grim tableau outside.

"You're up already?" Xue Shu asked, his tone light yet perceptive.

"Couldn't sleep," Yin Chengyu replied casually, rinsing his mouth before accepting the warm towel handed to him.

"Did you get the arrangements in place yesterday?" he asked while wiping his face, his movements brisk. Tossing the towel back into the basin, he stretched out his arms, allowing Xue Shu to help him dress.

Xue Shu’s hands worked methodically, his touch steady and deliberate. Layer by layer, he dressed him, smoothing every wrinkle in the fabric with meticulous care.

"Everything’s been handled. By tonight, all the roads will be sealed," Xue Shu reported, his voice calm but efficient.

Yin Chengyu nodded, his expression tightening as his mind churned. "What about the relief team? When are they expected to arrive?"

"If all goes smoothly, two days. Three at the latest."

"Too long," Yin Chengyu muttered, his brows knitting together. "Containing the plague can't wait. I'll meet with the Shanxi Provincial Governor immediately to lay out the disaster relief plans. Once the supplies arrive, we’ll act without delay."

By the time he was ready, his resolve had crystallized. Leaving instructions for his men, he set off for the Taiyuan prefectural office, summoning both the Shanxi Governor and the regional commander for an urgent meeting.

The recent turmoil in the province had left the governor, Jing Weishan, a bundle of nerves. Ever since the imperial court had ousted and imprisoned Zhou Weishan, the former provincial inspector, Jing Weishan had been living under a sword hanging by a thread. When news of the Crown Prince’s arrival broke, his first reaction was dread—then, oddly, relief. At least now, the waiting was over.

When Yin Chengyu arrived, the governor, the regional commander, and the Taiyuan prefect himself were already gathered at the office gate with their subordinates, bowing low to receive him.

Seated in the grand hall, Yin Chengyu surveyed the group of officials, their postures hunched and faces pale with fear. His voice was calm but probing. "Is this all that’s left?"

Jing Weishan stepped forward, his expression lined with exhaustion and guilt. "Your Highness, many of the officials here fell ill themselves and... were executed to contain the spread."

For nearly two decades, Zhou Weishan had ruled Shanxi with an iron fist, his authority absolute. When the plague broke out, his cruelty knew no bounds. To hide the epidemic, he silenced dissent with merciless efficiency, killing both commoners and lower-ranking officials alike. Fear and submission had paralyzed those under him, leaving no one brave enough to resist.

Had it not been for Xue Shu’s intervention and the courageous act of Sun Yao, a commander who bypassed his superiors to report directly to the court, this atrocity might never have come to light. Instead, those silenced would’ve remained nameless casualties, reduced to mere numbers in Zhou Weishan’s reports.

Yin Chengyu’s jaw tightened as he took in the sight of the trembling officials before him. Their guilt was evident, but so too was their weariness. He found his anger muted by the reality of their plight.

He had read Jing Weishan’s records before arriving. The man lacked initiative and ambition but wasn’t inherently malicious. His role in Zhou Weishan’s tyranny had been that of a passive accomplice, following orders rather than instigating harm.

"Zhou Weishan will face judgment for his crimes. Once Shanxi is stabilized, he’ll be handed over to the Ministry of Justice for sentencing," Yin Chengyu declared, his voice steady and commanding. "As for the rest of you, while your failures are evident, I recognize they stem more from coercion than intent. You’ll be given a chance to redeem yourselves through service."

He let his words hang in the air, watching as hope flickered hesitantly in their eyes.

"I’ve already ordered troops from Datong and Xuanfu to seal off Shanxi. No one is leaving until this plague is contained. The imperial relief team will arrive within days, bringing funds, grain, and medicine. We’ll have the resources to rebuild. What I need now are capable hands to carry out these orders. Can I count on you?"

Though his tone remained even, there was no mistaking the authority behind his words.

When the prince coldly announced that the entire Shanxi region was under military lockdown, the gathered officials felt a chill crawl up their spines.

This crown prince, outwardly genial and composed, clearly wielded a hand far more ruthless than his predecessor, Zhou Weishan.

If the epidemic could be contained, it would be a collective sigh of relief. But if not… no one dared to consider the consequences.

Jing Weishan bent low, his forehead nearly touching the ground, leading the charge with unwavering loyalty. "We await your command, Your Highness. We are ready to give our all, even if it costs us our lives."

Satisfied with their submission, Yin Chengyu nodded. "Good. Spread the word immediately. Conduct a thorough census of Shanxi. I want precise numbers—how many are alive, how many dead, and how many sick. Every detail must be recorded and documented."

He continued, his voice sharp yet commanding: "Have the soldiers construct plague shelters a mile outside the city. These will house the infected."

Instruction after instruction rolled from his lips, and the overwhelmed officials finally found a semblance of order in the chaos. They dispersed quickly, each taking up their tasks with grim determination.

Three days later, the imperial relief convoy finally arrived in Taiyuan, Shanxi’s capital.

Cart after cart of grain and medicinal supplies, guarded by a sizable force, entered the city. Yin Chengyu ordered Xue Xu to lead an inspection team, ensuring every grain of rice and every bundle of herbs was accounted for before they were placed in the warehouse.

"The relief supplies are here," Yin Chengyu declared, though his brow remained furrowed. "Now, distribute them across the various counties. Post public notices, summoning the disaster victims to collect their share."

Yet, despite the progress, unease lingered in his voice. "But why are the reports from each region showing zero infected? With an epidemic this severe, it’s impossible. If we gather large crowds without knowing the true extent of the illness, we risk worsening the outbreak."

The silence in the room was heavy, and the answer was clear without anyone needing to speak. Zhou Weishan’s reign of terror was to blame. His draconian measures—burning anyone with so much as a cough or fever—had left the populace distrustful and fearful. Families were hiding their sick, burying secrets deep. Reporting to the authorities was no longer an option.

Yin Chengyu’s jaw tightened. "Very well. Taiyuan will set an example. Once the people see relief and treatment firsthand, the other counties can follow suit."

His gaze swept over the mounds of grain filling the warehouse. "Tonight, have the kitchens prepare porridge. Distribute it at dawn. Assign two imperial physicians to supervise. If anyone exhibits signs of illness, they are to be immediately sent to the plague shelters."

Efforts to treat the epidemic were underway, with imperial doctors and local healers racing against time. But until a cure was found, the infected could only be isolated to prevent further spread.

"Your Highness," Xue Shu interrupted, his tone heavy with warning. "The victims might not last until dawn."

Yin Chengyu’s sharp eyes snapped to him.

Xue Xu elaborated grimly, "We need guards around the warehouse tonight. There’s already movement outside. Some of the disaster victims might try to storm the grain stores."

For days, Xue Shu’s men had scouted Taiyuan’s desolate streets. While the city appeared lifeless, it was a fragile façade. Fear of the soldiers had driven the people underground—literally. By day, they hid in basements and cellars. By night, they emerged, desperate and starving.

Even as the relief carts arrived, shadowy figures had been spotted circling the warehouse.

"But this grain is for them," Yin Chengyu said, baffled. "Why would they need to steal it?"

Xue Xu’s lips tightened as his voice grew heavier. "The last relief effort never reached the people. And after Zhou Weishan’s brutal reign, they don’t trust the government. These people are like birds with broken wings—terrified and desperate. They’d rather risk everything to take what they need than rely on empty promises."

For over a month, the plague and famine had ravaged Shanxi. The survivors were at their breaking point. Desperation bred mistrust. And when people are pushed to the brink, faith in others vanishes; they believe only in themselves.

Yin Chengyu pondered this, his expression darkening. "You seem to understand these people’s minds all too well," he said, his gaze narrowing, sharp and probing.

Caught off guard, Xue Xu stiffened, a flicker of unease crossing his face. "I… have merely observed, Your Highness."

Behind his calm exterior, Xue Xu silently clutched at his metaphorical mask, determined not to let it slip.

———TN: An epidemic is terrifying—pure chaos unleashed. Remember the fear that gripped us during COVID-19?

Panic spread like wildfire.

Trust crumbled.

Worry suffocated us.

Cities turned lifeless; streets became eerie wastelands.

Loved ones were lost, bodies piled high, and even our brave medical teams buckled under the weight of it all—all this in our so-called modern, advanced world.

Now imagine that kind of nightmare in the ancient world, stripped of science, technology, or hope. It's chilling to even think about how raw and brutal it must have been.