Chapter 112: The Disaster Intensifies

“Enough! Regardless, he is a marquis of the realm; this is sufficient. I forgive him.” Li Yuan suddenly shouted with a darkened face, smashing his wine cup and storming off with a swish of his sleeve.

Changsun sat weakly in her chair, only now feeling her heart settle in her stomach. Cai Cong was carried in by several eunuchs. The men Li Shimin brought to handle the matter were skilled; their blows were loud and intimidating but caused minimal harm. They only bruised the skin, not even touching the tendons.

“Second Young Master~”

Changsun called out with a sob in her voice. Li Shimin responded with a hum but did not look back at her. Both husband and wife were confused. This incident made it clear to them that Li Yuan could not stand to see them well; he only wished them misery. No amount of compensation would change that.

“Let’s go back!” Li Shimin said despondently, his once-straight posture now somewhat stooped, no longer resembling a towering mountain ridge.

Cai Cong lay on the bed while the imperial physician applied medicine and secured a splint. Li Shimin turned and said, “Your Majesty, the Chang’an Marquis’s injuries are not severe—just a fractured pelvis. With the recovery speed of youth, he will soon be running and jumping again.”

Irritated, Li Shimin waved dismissively, then looked at Cai Cong gloomily and said, “If it weren’t for the fractured bone, I’d really like to drag you out and give you thirty lashes.”

“Unfortunate times! This year alone, I’ve suffered more injuries than in the previous eight years combined,” Cai Cong said with a bitter smile.

Li Shimin hummed in approval. “Your mind remains resolute. Even at the brink of life and death, you still find the mood to joke.”

“I was truly afraid today. When the assassin’s blade pierced my abdomen, I was only angry. When the marksman aimed at me, I thought only of how to kill the enemy. But today, I was afraid. I could not resist. Life and death now depend on the word of the Retired Emperor,” Cai Cong said, fear evident on his face. In his previous life, he could face death with equanimity, but having truly died once, he now understood how precious life is.

“That’s good. In the past, I protected you, the Empress favored you, and you nearly grew complacent. This is a lesson—one to rein in your soaring pride.”

“I was not complacent!” Cai Cong protested, feeling wronged.

“Not complacent? Then why did you delegate the flood relief entirely to your subordinates? The military generals live and eat in the camps, tirelessly drilling soldiers without a moment’s laxity. The civil officials have been so distressed by the disaster they’ve developed ulcers and some have even fainted thrice, like Du Ruhui. And you? You built a few leaky boats and thought you could rely on them to save people? You even dared to compose poems mocking the Retired Emperor. Do you know the Empress’s visit to the palace was meant to ease the tension between me and the Retired Emperor? Now you’ve ruined all of that,” Li Shimin’s anger grew, kicking over a chair and upending the table, as if suffocated by a surge of frustration with no outlet.

“Go back and reflect deeply. Being foresighted isn’t omnipotent. If you continue like this, sooner or later you will be the cause of your own downfall.”

Li Shimin spoke with a hint of despair. He had originally hoped Cai Cong could assist Du Ruhui with the flood relief, but now he only wished for Cai Cong to disappear from his sight.

“I acknowledge my faults. I arrogantly relied on my wit and acted as I pleased, often neglecting the bigger picture. I will retreat and reflect in solitude. Here is my proposal for disaster relief. Natural disasters are not dreadful; what is dreadful is the ignorance of the people. The misdeeds of the county magistrate of Chao have chilled me to the bone. I hope this plan can aid Minister Du,” Cai Cong said, despondent. He had been reckless this past year, buoyed by his knowledge of history’s course. Besides fearing Li Shimin, he cared little for others.

Today, Li Yuan had taught him a harsh lesson: time travel held no special privileges. Others lived as cunning old foxes, far more formidable than this young fox.

When they carried him through the gate, Sister Cai wept so bitterly she could barely see. The old master was nearly fainting upon learning Cai Cong had dared to compose poems mocking the Retired Emperor. He hurriedly prepared offerings of ingots and candles to thank their ancestors for sparing Cai Cong’s life.

Lying on the bed, Cai Cong reflected on the past year: from the cunning contests with Li Zhang in the inner court to intimidating Jie Li and expanding trade. He had taken bolder and bolder steps, growing increasingly reckless—setting fire to noble estates, and in Shandong, massacring without restraint. Had Li Shimin not been scheming behind the scenes, Cai Cong would have surely died countless times over.

Sister Cai pushed open the door, and Qiuyue followed carrying medicine. Seeing her son so listless, she was at a loss for words, only massaging his back incessantly, as if it might ease his discomfort.

“Mother, have I done wrong this past year? Have I been too arrogant?” Cai Cong, like a child wronged, sought answers from his elders.

Sister Cai fell silent, unsure what to say. Her son had once been so dull and shy, but in the past year, he spoke with deadly resolve, a killer’s tongue. Though still filial to her, she sometimes feared him.

“If even your mother cannot say you’re right, then I must truly be mistaken,” Cai Cong said with a bitter smile. The person who loved him most in the world was not Changsun, with whom he shared a special bond, nor the ever-tolerant Li Shimin, but this woman—whom he had seen less and less since arriving in the Tang—whose love was selfless.

“Mother does not know what is right or wrong, but every time she sees you act, her heart races with fear. Even the grown-ups would not behave as you do. You are so clever, yet too impatient, wanting to accomplish in one step what others take a lifetime to achieve. Watching you, mother is terrified!” Sister Cai did not understand grand principles, but she had devoted her entire heart to Cai Cong and knew him better than anyone—even Li Shimin could not compare.

“I won’t do it again. From now on, I will do what I can, and not force what I cannot,” Cai Cong said calmly. Knowing history’s dark turns, he was eager to avoid them, unaware this was a classic case of the emperor not worrying while the eunuch frets.

“Good. We won’t meddle anymore. Now that the family is prosperous and honorable, just stay in the mansion and don’t go out. If you’re bored, visit the academy; if tired, stroll in Chang’an. Ignore those big matters for now. When you grow older, I’ll find you ten or eight wives to continue the Cai family line,” Sister Cai said with a joyous smile, chatting nonstop as if these words had been bottled up for a long time.

Cai Cong was stunned. Was his mother treating him like a stud? Ten or eight wives—wouldn’t that wear him out?

“Madam, my lord, stop chatting now; the medicine is getting cold. Drink it while it’s warm!” Qiuyue said with a cheerful smile. To her, this misfortune was a blessing in disguise, offering some peace.

Thus, Cai Cong settled into a quieter life. Only then did he realize the Tang dynasty ran as if missing a vital cog without him. Xu Jie came frequently to report on conditions outside—dire, truly dire. The floodwaters surged, the people were displaced, humans and animals jostled for space, and it was common to see them sleeping together on the ground.

It was no wonder Du Ruhui died young. Rumor said he often went without sleep, tirelessly arranging every detail. If this continued, he would surely perish within a few years.

Alone, Cai Cong reflected upon the many details he had overlooked, yet the officials managed everything with meticulous order, leaving no gaps.

Cai Cong’s predictions came true. Li Shimin emptied the treasury to redeem the people. Fortunately, unlike history, he used his private funds rather than the state treasury, earning high praise from court ministers who declared Li Shimin loved his people like his own children.

Yet, despite such exhaustive efforts, there were always shortcomings. Whether the granaries or treasury, they addressed only the most urgent needs. Countless citizens were homeless, surviving on meager gruel insufficient to fill their stomachs. Starving, they had no choice but to shame their ancestors by begging.

Thus, in unaffected areas, beggars and thieves roamed. Though no unspeakable atrocities occurred, stepping outside meant encountering outstretched hands; returning home often revealed stolen goods. Who could be in good spirits?

Conflicts large and small began to surface and escalate, causing great concern. Should a spark ignite, a major disaster was inevitable.