Cut Off Grain, the Emperor Must Provide Disaster Relief

Just as Serena Feng had expected, when Prince Samuel Zhai heard Tong Jue’s report, he smiled, helped him up, and assured him that Serena need not worry—he would handle the matter and ensure justice for the disaster victims.

Having seen too many officials say one thing in public and do another in private, Tong Jue looked instantly disappointed at Prince Samuel’s words, thinking them mere perfunctory platitudes—until Prince Samuel suddenly turned, his aura turning murderous and intimidating.

"Bring my court robes. I’m entering the palace."

Veteran generals who risk their lives on the battlefield do so for one reason: so the people can live in peace, free from war and displacement. Yet those bastards dared to oppress the common folk right under his nose—an unforgivable crime.

Prince Samuel immediately entered the palace. Tong Jue stood outside, watching him leave until even his shadow disappeared, then turned and headed out of the city.

No wonder Miss Feng, despite knowing so many high-ranking officials, chose to approach Prince Samuel, who never meddles in trivial matters—he, like the Young Heir of Dongming, is fiercely intolerant of evil.

Miss Feng was right: as long as she told the truth and described the disaster victims’ actions to Prince Samuel, he would step in. With him involved, what was there to fear?

A mere Commander of the Nine Gates isn’t even worthy to carry Prince Samuel’s shoes.

Prince Samuel stormed into the Imperial Palace and went straight to see the Emperor. He was not Dominic Zhai or Serena Feng, and this wasn’t the city outskirts—it was the palace itself. Prince Samuel didn’t need to protect the Emperor’s image. With a blank face, he recounted everything the Capital Gate Command officials had done, including the disaster victims forced to crawl on the ground licking thin porridge.

Prince Samuel was nothing if not straightforward. He never embellished, nor did he show favoritism; he simply reported the facts. Yet precisely because the Emperor knew Prince Samuel’s character, he was furious.

Utter humiliation—this was beyond disgraceful.

The Commander of the Nine Gates might not be the Emperor’s personal Imperial Guard, but he was still a trusted confidant. For such a close official to commit these acts in the capital and get caught red-handed—this was the height of disgrace.

"Rest assured, Prince Samuel. I will investigate this matter thoroughly. I will never allow them to oppress the people—those disaster victims will get an explanation." The Emperor, seething with anger, made his promise on the spot.

The snow disaster was already giving the Emperor a massive headache. His desk was piled high with reports from all over about the devastation, and as the death toll mounted, his temper only grew worse.

Now, anyone who got tangled up in the snow disaster was doomed. This time, the Commander of the Nine Gates had truly made a mess of things despite good intentions.

"The Emperor is wise—so long as you’re here, we’ll weather this snow disaster." Prince Samuel understood how to advance and retreat; he didn’t stubbornly challenge the Emperor. Once he got the Emperor’s promise, he immediately offered praise.

Minor officials might make mistakes, but it was up to the Emperor to punish them. That way, the Emperor could always appear as the people’s protector.

"I believe my people will survive this snow disaster," the Emperor declared, his eyes shining with determination. He refused to admit defeat—not even to Heaven itself.

A snow disaster this severe hadn’t occurred in a century, yet it landed squarely on his reign. Add to that the earlier 'winter thunder' scandal, and the people’s criticism of him was mounting. If he failed to handle the snow disaster, he was sure to lose their hearts.

And what is left for an emperor who has lost the people’s hearts?

For the Emperor, this snow disaster was also an opportunity—he was determined to suppress its impact and reduce the death toll.

"I am willing to donate all the grain stored in my household to help the disaster victims through this crisis." Prince Samuel not only knew how to advance and retreat, but also understood the Emperor’s mind. The Emperor’s words signaled a major relief effort, so Prince Samuel promptly handed over his grain, setting an example for the officials and giving the Emperor a reason to demand grain from the ministers.

"Excellent, excellent! With Prince Samuel’s support, what do I have to worry about?" Sure enough, the Emperor’s smile grew even wider.

How could an emperor allow some nameless benefactor to steal the spotlight? If that person could provide disaster victims with thick porridge and buns, then so could the Emperor.

"The Emperor is wise—this is a blessing for all the people." Prince Samuel didn’t dare claim credit, only praised the Emperor. The Emperor understood his meaning and immediately ordered the Imperial Guards to suppress the incident near the city gate. At the same time...

He prepared to demand grain from all the officials and great families. The amount needed for disaster relief was astronomical; the government’s reserves alone were nowhere near enough.

Just as Serena Feng had predicted, the city gate incident was quickly suppressed. Dominic Zhai was credited, the Commander was stripped of his post and replaced by a newcomer from the Wen clan. It seemed most noble families were now siding with the Emperor—only the Wang clan still struggled to hold out.

Once all the noble families sided with the Emperor, they lost their independence—they became pawns in his hands, their honor and disgrace at his mercy. But if they refused to align with him, decline was inevitable.

Of course, none of this concerned Serena Feng. Her daily routine was shuttling between Feng Manor and the free clinic, taking turns with Simon Sun to care for Holden Cui.

It wasn’t that Serena wanted to take the credit—Simon Sun, stubborn as ever, was simply repeating her own arguments about not wasting medical resources.

Simon Sun argued that Holden Cui’s condition was completely under control and could be left to the Cui-clan doctors—there was no need for him to stand guard. With the time spent watching over Holden, he could treat dozens of other patients.

Serena Feng nearly burst into tears. You silly blockhead, Holden Cui is no ordinary person—building a relationship with him is more important than anything. When officials smash up porridge stalls, can ordinary people help you deal with the authorities?

No, but Holden Cui can.

Making connections with powerful people isn’t just about self-preservation—it lets you protect those you care about. Doctors naturally have this kind of access, but Simon Sun doesn’t know how to use it. It drives Serena crazy.

Serena forgot that, back in her army hospital days, she didn’t know how to seize opportunities to connect with the powerful either—she nearly drove her supervising doctor to the brink of a hospital stay from frustration.

There’s nothing shameful about befriending the powerful—as long as you stay true to yourself. All you’re seeking is protection, a strength that lets you stand safely in the world.

Both the free clinic and porridge relief went exceptionally smoothly—not just in the capital, but in other towns as well. What Serena Feng couldn’t figure out was, after all these days, there still wasn’t a single rumor linking Ninth Royal Uncle to the porridge benefactor. It left her utterly baffled.

Still, Serena knew Ninth Royal Uncle had his own plans—she didn’t need to worry about it. She just had to do her job. On the third day of porridge relief, Vincent Su came looking for her.

"Serena, help!" After just a few days apart, Vincent Su had wasted away to an astonishing degree. If not for his thick clothes, Serena would have thought she was seeing a stick figure.

His head seemed enormous, his limbs pitifully small.

"What happened?" Serena asked. After returning from the free clinic, she required everyone to disinfect and bathe before entering the manor. Vincent Su arrived just as she finished cleaning up—she hadn’t even had time to eat.

"Grain, it’s the grain! We’re running out of supplies for the porridge relief." Vincent Su was on the verge of tears. The amount of grain needed far exceeded his estimates. He’d worked desperately to secure enough, but deliveries had stalled.

The heavy snow had blocked every road. He sent people to deliver grain and barely managed to clear a path, but progress was agonizingly slow. At this rate, there was no way to get the grain to the towns in time.

He sobbed—he regretted not listening to Ninth Royal Uncle and asking Serena for help sooner. Now he wasn’t sure if it was too late. If a grain shortage occurred, their plan would be ruined.

"Is it a delivery problem, or are you actually out of grain?" Serena immediately grasped the seriousness of the situation. Forgetting her hunger, she pressed for details.

"It’s a delivery issue—all the grain is stuck on the road. The snow has blocked everything, and the carts are moving too slowly. If the grain doesn’t arrive soon, in two days we’ll have nothing left."

Disaster relief consumed more grain in a day than an army of half a million. If not for the Emperor’s swift action opening the granaries, their supplies wouldn’t have lasted three days.

"Carts?" Serena was furious. In weather like this, using horse carts to deliver grain was sheer stupidity. "With this much snow, can carts even move? The wheels get stuck, and your speed is barely faster than a snail. How long do you expect to wait before the grain reaches the city?"

Grain supply was the key issue, and now Vincent was warning her of a looming shortage. Serena was exasperated.

"If not carts, then what?" Vincent Su looked at Serena Feng in confusion. To transport this batch of grain, he’d used the best warhorses from his stables—dozens had died along the way, and his heart ached for them.

"In weather like this, carts can’t move through the snow at all—using them only causes trouble. What you need now are sleds."

"What’s a sled?" Vincent Su asked, not ashamed to admit what he didn’t know. He also regretted not listening to Ninth Royal Uncle and coming to Serena earlier.

A sled? It’s a tool for fast travel over snow. Serena nearly wanted to strangle Vincent—why hadn’t he asked sooner?

Serena patiently explained how to make sleds, and told Vincent that simply modifying the carts would turn them into sleds—saving valuable time.

With a solution in hand, Vincent Su returned home in high spirits and immediately ordered his people to convert the carts into sleds for grain transport.

In this heavy snow, everyone was short on grain. Vincent’s problem was solved, but the Emperor’s crisis remained—he discovered a severe shortage throughout his realm.

He hadn’t expected that, even with all the grain the noble families could provide, it wouldn’t last three days. Adding the government reserves, they could feed the disaster victims for five days at most—and that was with rationing and the secret benefactor’s help.

Five days—the government’s relief could only last five days. What would happen after that?

The Emperor was so anxious, his hair was turning white...