Chapter 4
The hardest decision I had to make every day was whether to go for braised meat or sweet and sour ribs at lunch.
Life was just ordinary.
But there was this gentle, sugary kind of peace to it all.
Everything changed when the news broke.
A drought had hit the Southlands.
As far as the eye could see, the land was scorched and dead.
People were fleeing in droves.
The imperial court sent out three rounds of emergency grain supplies.
But it was barely a drop in the bucket.
The Royal Observatory spent the night observing the stars.
But they were completely at a loss.
Resentment was everywhere you turned.
Word on the street was that the King had fallen from grace.
People said it was heaven's punishment.
The court was in an uproar.
Some wanted to crack down on the refugees.
Others wanted to raise taxes to fund relief efforts.
The King hadn't slept a wink in days.
His face was so dark, it looked like it could rain.
The whole palace was blanketed in a heavy gloom.
That night, the storm rolled in.
Lightning split the sky, thunder shook the air.
Rain came down in sheets.
The King stood at the entrance of the Hall of Sovereign.
He gazed out into the pitch-black wall of rain.
His silhouette was heavy with worry.
I hugged a plate of freshly baked walnut pastries.
I was curled up on the warm couch.
I was munching away, savoring every bite.
"Isobel," the King suddenly called out.
He called my name so suddenly, his voice a bit muffled by the rain.
His voice was a bit muffled by the rain.
"Hmm?" I mumbled back, my cheeks bulging with pastry.
"Do you think..." His voice was low, almost a whisper. "Is this calamity truly because of me?"
I forced down the last bite of pastry.
I took a sip of coffee to wash it down.
"Your Majesty," I said.
'Hmm?' I mumbled, my mouth still stuffed with pastry.
"Do you really believe those rumors?" I asked.
He was silent.
"A natural disaster is just a natural disaster," I said, grabbing another walnut pastry. "What does that have to do with people? Can anyone really order the heavens to make it rain?"
He turned to face me.
His deep, searching gaze landed on me.
"The Royal Observatory says this is a punishment from heaven," he said.
I scoffed, rolling my eyes. "If they were really that good at reading the stars, they'd have known exactly when it would rain. They wouldn't be running around clueless right now, would they?"
He just looked at me, lost for words.
"So, in your opinion, how should we solve this mess?" he asked.
"If you want to untie the knot, you have to find the one who tied it," I replied.
"Hmm?" he blinked at me, puzzled.
"If the sky won't give us rain, then go ask the sky for it," I said, as if it was the most obvious solution ever.
His mouth twitched, like he couldn't decide whether to laugh or sigh.
"How are we supposed to do that?" he asked, sounding genuinely stumped.
I brushed the crumbs off my hands.
I walked over to stand beside him.
We both stared out at the torrential downpour.
"Your Majesty," I said.
"Hmm?" he replied.
"Did it ever cross your mind..." I hesitated.
"What?" he asked.
"Maybe there's something going on in the Southlands... something that's ticked off the heavens?" I mused.
He frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Just a wild guess from me," I shrugged. "Picture this: if someone dug a huge pit right outside your house and kept pouring foul water there every day, would you be cool with that? Of course not. Maybe you'd be so pissed off, you wouldn't even want to leave your house."
The King looked thoughtful.
"Are you saying..." he started.
"Hey, I didn't say anything," I quickly backed off. "But you know, when things get this strange, there's always something fishy going on. An entire place suddenly turns into a wasteland, just like that? There's gotta be a reason."
*****
The next day, the King secretly dispatched three teams of his most trusted agents.
They headed straight for the Southlands.
Their main task was to investigate any unusual changes in the terrain or geography and to see if anyone was up to any large-scale construction work, especially those busy digging pits.
*****
Half a month later, an urgent report came back to the capital.
Inside the Sanctuary Hall, the King was reading the secret report.
He sat there in silence, lost in thought for what felt like ages.
His face was a storm of emotions, impossible to tell what was going on in his mind.
At last, he let out a long, heavy sigh.
"So that's what it means to tick off the heavens," he said, half amused, half resigned.
The secret report spelled it out.
Upstream on the Azureflow River was the biggest river in the Southlands.
*****
Three years back, some powerful local families, wanting water for their tens of thousands of acres of farmland, went ahead and built a massive stone dam without permission.
They did it all in secret, throwing up a huge barrier across the river.
They ended up choking off nearly seventy percent of the Azureflow River's flow.
Downstream, over a dozen districts and counties were left parched.
The water supply dwindled almost overnight.
Places that were once laced with streams and canals began to wither away, day after day.
Then, this year's drought struck.
It was a disaster piled on top of disaster.
The river downstream was completely cut off.
The people were left desperate, struggling just to survive.
And as for that powerful local family?
Turns out, the guy was some distant cousin from Megan's side of the family.
He was using her name as a golden ticket.
He acted like he owned the place, doing whatever he pleased.
And nobody had the guts to stop him.
The royal edict was issued with the force of a thunderbolt.
It struck as swift as lightning.
The private dam was blown to pieces on the spot.
The Azureflow River thundered downstream, its waters pouring forth in a wild rush.
The local big shot's whole estate got raided, everything confiscated, and he ended up rotting in jail.
Megan got caught up in the fallout.
She was stripped of her noble rank.
Downgraded to a concubine, just like that.
And put under house arrest for a whole year.
The White family's power was purged from the court.
*****
A month later, blessed rains poured down over the Southlands.
The drought was finally broken.
People who had fled began flooding back home.
A disaster that could have shaken the very foundations of the kingdom was quietly swept away, leaving no trace behind.
The King set up a private dinner in the Hall of Sovereign.
It was just him and me.
Everything looked fancy and delicious.
He reached over and put a piece of chicken on my plate himself.
"Isobel," he said.
"Yes?" I replied.
"You really saved the day this time," he said, a rare smile flickering on his face.
"Oh," I replied, just keeping it casual.
"What do you want as a reward?" he asked.
I set my chopsticks down.
I gave it some serious thought.
"Could you swap out that fancy hardwood bed in the side chamber for my old hard bed? That soft mattress is killing my back," I said.
He just went silent.
He gripped his wine cup and stared at me for what felt like ages.
Finally, he let out a sigh.
"Isobel," he said.
"Hmm?" I replied.
"You really are something else..." he trailed off.
"Something else? How so?" I asked.
"You're truly one of a kind," he said, shaking his head with a smile.