Chapter 29: Troubled Waters Once More

After all, he had maintained his integrity throughout his life and had no desire to have his spotless reputation tarnished by the schemes of political factions in his later years.

Of course, there were those in court who claimed that Chancellor Liu’s actions were but a pretense of high-mindedness, nothing more than sheer hypocrisy.

Fortunately, Chancellor Liu held great power and seldom interfered with others’ interests, so no one bothered to plot against him.

But Chen Mu’s case was different.

As the saying goes, “A tree that stands above the forest is sure to be felled by the wind.”

The position Chen Mu held was simply too crucial, for it was directly tied to the future stability of the Great Xia dynasty.

Even though Chen Xingtian trusted him deeply for now, voices calling for the replacement of the Crown Prince were far from uncommon at court.

It was a blessing that Chen Xingtian had no other sons—otherwise, those dissenting voices would surely have grown even louder.

Yet, Chen Xingtian’s trust did not mean Chen Mu could rest easy.

That evening, Chen Mu sat alone in his study, reading by lamplight.

Having studied history in his previous life, he was naturally fascinated by these ancient texts, and found them not at all difficult to read.

What’s more, ever since he’d invented paper, and after countless improvements by both the Ministry of Works and common folk, the paper of Great Xia was now not so different from the xuan paper he’d used in his past life.

Though still somewhat rough compared to true xuan paper, it was already a great deal more pleasant for both writing and reading.

And though the Great Xia lagged in technology, its intellectual and cultural traditions were quite remarkable. The books produced here, too, were impressive in many respects.

Chen Mu was thoroughly engrossed in his reading when a gentle knock sounded at the door of his study.

“Who is it?”

“My husband, it’s me.”

With Chen Mu’s permission, Liu Susu entered, carrying a tray with a bowl and several small dishes.

“Susu, is there something you need?” Chen Mu put down his book and asked.

“My husband, you’ve been working so hard on state affairs these days that you’re growing thin. How could I not be distressed by that?” Gently, Liu Susu set down the tray and arranged its contents before him. “I saw that you were still awake so late, so I went to the kitchen and made you a bowl of porridge, along with some side dishes. Please eat something, even if it’s just to make do.”

Normally, Chen Mu ate the meals prepared by the cooks of the Crown Prince’s residence; he hadn’t yet had the chance to taste his wife’s cooking.

“You’re so thoughtful.” Chen Mu smiled, lifting the bowl.

Though the cooks here were not quite the imperial chefs of the palace, their skills ranked among the very best in the land.

Naturally, Liu Susu’s culinary abilities could not compare, but as Chen Mu tasted her food, a different feeling welled up within him.

“My husband, why are you smiling?” Liu Susu noticed the amused look on his face.

Chen Mu took another sip of porridge, then set down the bowl and pulled Liu Susu onto his lap.

“I was just thinking—how did I end up so lucky, to win the heart of the finest woman in the land?”

His words carried a hint of teasing, and Liu Susu’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she gently tapped his chest.

“You always know just what to say to make me happy.”

Chen Mu chuckled and said nothing more.

Her gaze fell on the book before him.

“My husband, you know military strategy as well?”

Chen Mu picked up the book casually. “As the Crown Prince, I must understand a bit of everything.”

This was an understatement. When it came to ancient military texts, Chen Mu had long since mastered them.

He was reading this particular treatise only because it included many practical examples from the battlefield, which he found highly entertaining.

Truth be told, he greatly admired the resilience of the people of Great Xia.

They had little to eat, little to use, and even books were rare.

Though it seemed that both his study and Chen Xingtian’s were well stocked with volumes, most of these were reserved for officials of a certain rank or higher.

For ordinary folk, reading such books was nearly impossible.

Thus, it seemed the only path available was to till the fields dutifully—rising at dawn, resting at dusk, and teaching the next generation to do the same.

This would not do.

If things continued thus, social classes would ossify, and only the sons of officials would have any hope of entering the bureaucracy.

Talented individuals among the commoners would simply be buried by circumstance.

He had seen the dire consequences of this during his recent visit to the Eastern Plains.

Those officials, raised in privilege from birth, had no understanding of the people’s hardships—and, for the most part, little wit to speak of.

He had to devise a way for commoners to gain access to books, and to have a chance at officialdom.

As Chen Mu sank into thought, Liu Susu gently kneaded his shoulders.

“My husband, if you’re weary, you should rest.”

“I’m fine,” Chen Mu replied, returning his attention to the book.

“If you don’t mind, my husband, may I read aloud to you? That way you can relax for a bit.”

He readily agreed. In this era, it was rare indeed to find a woman as literate and cultured as Liu Susu.

Seeing his approval, Liu Susu picked up the book and began to read, her voice as gentle as ever.

Chen Mu leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and savored the rare tranquility of the moment.

With his eyes shut, the darkness heightened his sense of hearing.

As he listened to Liu Susu’s reading, he suddenly felt something was amiss.

From somewhere—he could not tell where—came the faint sound of footsteps.

Chen Mu frowned in displeasure.

Before sitting down to read, he had specifically instructed everyone not to disturb him.

Liu Susu had been allowed in only because of her special status; who dared to walk outside his door now, in defiance of his orders?

“Who is walking outside?” he called out loudly, eyes still closed.

Silence.

The footsteps ceased, and Liu Susu paused as well.

After a moment with no response, Liu Susu looked at Chen Mu in confusion.

“My husband, did you perhaps imagine it?”

As she spoke, she rose and went to the door, opening it and glancing around.

“There’s no one outside, my husband.”

How strange.

He had heard the footsteps clearly—there was no way he could have imagined it.

A vague sense of unease crept over him.

He stood and went to Liu Susu’s side, grabbing her wrist to pull her back.

At that moment, a sharp sound of something slicing through the air rang out.

Chen Mu instinctively shoved Liu Susu aside, ducking just in time to avoid a steel blade that swung across.

And now, standing beside him, was a masked figure dressed all in black.

Seeing the first strike miss, the assailant raised the blade to strike again.

But this time, Chen Mu was ready—he sidestepped, seized the attacker’s wrist, and yanked them forward with force.

Caught off guard, the figure stumbled, a muffled groan escaping their throat.

Hearing the sound, Chen Mu froze in astonishment.

A woman?