But General Warren Yu—the iron-blooded commander who ruled the battlefield—would he really fake drunkenness just to come crying to her? Back on the battlefield, Serena had heard soldiers say that every company had its own plot of land, and each month they'd compete to see whose vegetables grew best—the winners even got public praise.
Impossible. Warren Yu was the classic type—he’d bleed before he’d shed a tear. If he hadn’t been tipsy, he wouldn’t have said a word. When bored, they'd chase pigs, wrestle on their backs, or sneak out at night to steal fish to grill. Of course, getting caught meant trouble—a major demerit at best, or being kicked out at worst.
Last night, he must have hit a wall—half drunk, half awake, he finally opened up and asked her for help. In the army, there was always more to do than just train—otherwise, life would be unbearable.
Tears... Speaking of training, Serena knew plenty of modern methods—but those were secrets she wouldn't share with Warren Yu.
Serena Feng felt the pressure mounting—three hundred thousand mouths to feed! How could she possibly have that kind of ability? "What else? Is there another way? Just farming won't cut it—I have 300,000 men. How much land would that take?"
She truly didn’t understand why Warren Yu thought she could help. Ninth Royal Uncle's idea is good; on the surface, it might even make the Emperor relax, thinking he's stopped training and is just leading troops to farm.
Still, that’s what friends are for—helping each other. Warren Yu had helped her plenty of times; if she had the ability, she’d do her best now. Besides farming, you can teach them skills. You said disabled veterans can't support their families—so in the barracks, train them in useful trades, so they can earn a living after they retire.
Military pay, military pay... Serena Feng racked her brains, searching for a good solution. You can't change a congenital disability—people can accept that. But when a healthy person suddenly can't move, the blow is unimaginable.
Conscription, fundraising—those are nonsense. The Emperor would never agree, and they wouldn’t solve the urgent crisis. Right now, the most important thing is food. She'd seen many such cases in her previous life, but the system then was much better—disabled veterans were properly cared for by the government.
"Serena Feng, did you get an answer or not? Please, just tell me already. I’m begging you, three hundred thousand mouths—what am I supposed to feed them with next month?" It couldn't restore their health, but at least their families could live in comfort.
Warren Yu was getting frustrated. What he really wanted to say was, "Serena Feng, stop playing games with me and just tell me the answer—will Ninth Royal Uncle help or not?"
"Hmm, let me think."
Serena Feng closed her eyes, genuinely racking her brain to help Warren Yu find a solution. But Warren just thought she was messing with him and couldn't help but urge her again.
Serena was annoyed by his constant pushing. Since she really couldn't think of anything better, she finally shared the most feasible idea she'd just come up with: "Warren Yu, if the higher-ups won't give you military pay, then you'll have to become self-reliant."
Serena wasn't entirely confident—it was a different country, after all.
"Self-reliant? What do you mean by self-reliant?" Warren Yu asked in surprise.
Wait, so Ninth Royal Uncle doesn't plan to help him? Or maybe Ninth Royal Uncle wants to see what he's capable of?
No, that's not it—Ninth Royal Uncle probably doesn't want to get too involved. After all, helping openly would anger the Emperor. Even if he wants to help, he can't do it publicly. Warren Yu's eyes sparkled as he looked at Serena, waiting for her to continue.
"In wartime, they're soldiers; in peacetime, they're civilians. Since there won't be any big wars soon, your men need to learn to support themselves. You're short on grain, right? Take your troops to reclaim land around the garrison—grow rice and other crops. You can also set up military-run workshops and other businesses to make money. Use your position to your advantage."
These days, what official doesn't dabble in business? If you have status, you can profit from anything.
Thanks to his unique position in the military, Warren Yu could step in and profit without risk.
Serena Feng had no idea that her suggestion would make the Four Great Dukedoms hate her—she'd just created a new competitor for their business.
"No way, absolutely not." Warren Yu shook his head without hesitation. "Even if we're not fighting now, daily training can't be skipped. If they all turn into farmers, how will they ever fight again? The more you train before war, the less blood you shed during it. My men will never become a bunch of peasants."
Serena hadn't been completely sure, but thinking about the current society—where both industry and agriculture lagged—she realized the only way to boost output was by throwing in more manpower.
Warren Yu had plenty of manpower. Even if he only used a small portion, it would bring unexpected profits. Besides, doing this would let the Emperor suffer in silence—he couldn't complain.
After all, the Emperor hadn't ordered Warren Yu to reduce his army. He could openly use all 300,000 men.
She wondered if she could get in on it herself—it sounded very profitable.
The more she thought about it, the better the idea sounded. Serena's eyes lit up as she looked at Warren Yu. "Warren Yu, you're so stubborn! Can't you think outside the box? You have 300,000 men—why make them farm every day?"
You could split them into several groups, have them take turns, or let them work in the mornings and train in the afternoons. You can easily arrange their schedules safely.
In the modern world, it's normal for troops to farm and raise pigs—logistics is a crucial department, and you can't do without it.
Back on the battlefield, she'd heard soldiers say that every company had its own plot of land, and every month they'd compete to see who could grow the best vegetables. The winners even got public praise.
When they were bored, they'd herd the pigs out and wrestle on their backs, or sneak out at night to steal fish from the camp ponds and roast them. Of course, if they got caught, it was bad news—a major demerit at best, or even kicked out of the unit.
Basically, there was plenty to do in the army besides training. If it was just drills all day, nobody could stand it.
Speaking of training, Serena knew plenty of modern methods, but she wasn't about to share those with Warren Yu.
"What else? Is there any other way? Just farming isn't enough—I have 300,000 men. How much land would that take?"
Ninth Royal Uncle's plan was actually pretty clever. On the surface, it would make the Emperor relax, thinking Warren had stopped training his men and just made them farm all day.
"Besides farming, you could have them learn a trade or two. Didn't you say wounded veterans can't get enough compensation and can't feed their families? Then you should arrange for them to learn skills in the barracks, so when they retire, they can support themselves." Serena understood all too well the pain of being crippled by injury.
If someone was born disabled, they could accept it. But if a healthy person suddenly lost the ability to move, that kind of blow was almost unbearable.
She'd seen plenty like that in her previous life, though the system back then was much better—wounded veterans got proper government support.
They couldn't get their health back, but at least their families could live well.
But now? They'd given up their health for this country, yet couldn't even feed their families. It showed just how heartless the Emperor was.
Serena clenched her fist, forcing down the sour ache in her heart.
She wasn't a saint—she couldn't change the world, only do what little she could.
"Alright, it's settled!" Warren Yu slapped the table, excited. "Serena Feng, this is a great plan—I'll get people started right away. My men won't have to worry about food for years."
From then on, Warren Yu regarded Ninth Royal Uncle with new respect.
Ninth Royal Uncle didn't use the opportunity to demand loyalty—he gave Warren a real solution, so Warren wouldn't be beholden to anyone.
"Glad I could help," Serena Feng said, finally able to breathe easy.
She hadn't expected the plan to actually work.
"Of course it helps! I'll get on it right away—I've been worrying about this for days." Warren Yu beamed and hurried out.
Serena hadn't explained everything in detail—making it work would be much harder than just talking about it. But that didn't matter; they had a direction, and the rest could be handled by his advisors.
Warren Yu decided that once his advisors had worked out the specifics, he'd go personally to the Ninth Prince's Residence. Anyone who could think of ways to support the troops and care for the wounded deserved his loyalty.
Warren Yu was so happy he wanted to rush out immediately, but at the door he suddenly remembered something even bigger...