Chapter 94: Snowbound Charity

Note: If you want the continuity of this story consider to join Pãtreon/Flokixy to access advance Chapters and To Support The Daily Update The biting cold of winter gripped the land, its icy fingers weaving through the desolate roads and barren trees. Snow blanketed everything in sight, muffling sound and movement. The early morning air was sharp and unforgiving, piercing through layers of clothing as if they were mere whispers against the frost. The Struggles of the Court As dawn broke faintly over the horizon, ministers bundled themselves tightly in their cloaks, stepping out of their carriages only to shiver violently in the freezing air. "This wretched weather will be the death of us!" one muttered under his breath. "Ah, Lord Zhang, you’re here early today," another greeted warmly, rubbing his hands together for warmth. "And so are you, Lord Wang," Zhang replied with a forced smile. Outside the palace gates, clusters of officials huddled together, their breath forming visible clouds in the frigid air as they shuffled toward the grand hall. Conversations buzzed softly among them, each voice tinged with frustration or desperation. "Lord Zhang, did your household manage to secure any charcoal?" someone asked hesitantly. Zhang let out an exasperated sigh. "Don’t even mention it! My servants have been utterly useless—weeks of trying, and still no luck procuring any! It’s infuriating." Another official chimed in sympathetically. "You’re not alone, my lord. My household is in the same predicament. Word has it that the sudden snowfall caught the merchants off guard this year. They hadn’t yet produced new stock, and last year’s surplus was swiftly delivered to the royal princes’ residences." A third man leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "In previous years, the court would distribute charcoal during such shortages. But given how abrupt this situation is, I doubt we’ll see anything like that this time." Sighs rippled through the group. "This winter will be unbearable." "Indeed. Right now, golden-thread charcoal is more precious than gold itself—you could have all the money in the world, but good luck finding any!" Among the murmurs, Su Li’s father exchanged a glance with Wei Xiyong. Both remained silent, guilt tugging at their conscience. Their own homes were stocked with multiple braziers of glowing charcoal, even their carriages warmed by portable stoves. Was this... perhaps excessive? Su Li’s father couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride. His daughter truly had foresight. Without her preparations, their family might have suffered alongside the rest. The Warmth Within the Palace By the time they reached the main hall, the contrast was stark. Inside, a roaring fire crackled in the hearths, casting a warm glow across the room. For the first time in days, the ministers felt their frozen limbs thawing. "I must admit," one elder remarked, "this might be the first time I’ve genuinely looked forward to attending court." "Absolutely," another agreed. "This hall feels warmer than our own homes!" After flexing their stiffened fingers and toes, the ministers finally began to relax. Gradually, the assembly filled up, each newcomer visibly struggling against the chill—rubbing their hands, blowing into them, or stomping their feet to restore circulation. "His Majesty arrives!" "All hail His Majesty! Long live the Emperor!" "Rise." The emperor surveyed the gathering below, noting the puffs of white mist escaping their lips. A pang of guilt mingled with a trace of smug satisfaction crossed his face. "This year’s unexpected climate shift has disrupted the supply of golden-thread charcoal," he announced. "Bear with it a little longer." Though inwardly displeased, none dared show their discontent outwardly. After discussing trivial matters, the session concluded, and the emperor dismissed them. As he prepared to leave, however, he noticed something unusual. Instead of scattering immediately—a common sight whenever he vacated the throne—most officials lingered awkwardly, reluctant to depart. "Why aren’t you leaving?" the emperor inquired curiously. One minister cleared his throat nervously. "Your Majesty, there are still matters requiring discussion... For instance, the case involving Minister Li’s household." "The adultery scandal?" Su Li’s father interjected, raising an eyebrow. "Surely that doesn’t warrant attention from esteemed colleagues like yourselves?" Embarrassment flickered across the faces of the implicated officials. Clearly, their excuse was fabricated. The emperor turned to others. "And what about you? Are you also deliberating on Minister Li’s case?" "Forgive me, Your Majesty," another hastily corrected himself. "We were actually planning to discuss this year’s autumn examinations." With a dismissive wave, the emperor departed, leaving the ministers to their devices. Su Li’s father glanced questioningly at his peers. "Shall we go?" "You go ahead, Lord Su." Shaking his head slightly, Su Li’s father made his way to the palace gates. There, his carriage awaited him, already warmed and stocked with essentials. Settling inside, he sipped the nourishing tea prepared by his daughter and nibbled on a pastry brought by his wife. Comfort washed over him like a soothing balm. "Now this is living," he sighed contentedly. "Xu Jin, take me home." "Yes, Master." A Timely Gift At the Right Chancellor’s residence, coughs echoed through the corridors. "Mother, allow me to fetch another quilt," Meng Zhirou urged anxiously. Her mother’s frail health had only recently begun to improve, and this sudden cold snap threatened to undo all progress. "It’s fine, child. I’m not cold," her mother reassured weakly, though another bout of coughing betrayed her words. Just then, Meixiang burst into the room, excitement lighting up her features. "Miss Meng, Miss Su has sent golden-thread charcoal for you and your mother!" Meng Zhirou froze. Golden-thread charcoal? Where on earth had Su Li acquired such a treasure? Hurrying outside, she confirmed the sight of Su Li’s carriage parked at their gate. One of Su Li’s attendants stepped forward, addressing her formally. "Miss Meng, our lady instructed us to deliver this exclusively for you and your mother. No one else is permitted to claim it!" Before Meng Zhirou could respond, Lady Zhao arrived, feigning graciousness. "Oh, we’re practically family! There’s no need to be so formal. Please convey our thanks to your mistress." Turning to the steward, she ordered, "Take these crates to the storeroom!" The attendant held firm. "Our lady specified that this belongs solely to Miss Meng Zhirou. If anyone else tries to take it, they do so against her wishes!" Lady Zhao gritted her teeth but forced a smile. "Very well, I won’t touch it." Once the crates were unloaded, Meng Zhirou directed them to her mother’s quarters. Upon arrival, the attendant explained further. "Miss Meng, our lady said these boxes cannot be opened by force. They are secured with a nine-turn lock crafted using Mo Sect mechanisms. She believes you can unlock it." Recognition dawned in Meng Zhirou’s eyes. The nine-turn lock—it was something she and Su Li had once deciphered together. This thoughtful gesture ensured the charcoal would remain untouched by others. "Please tell your mistress I am deeply grateful," she told the attendant. After the Su household staff departed, Lady Zhao entered the courtyard. "Steward, move these crates to the storeroom!" "Stop!" Meng Zhirou commanded sharply. Lady Zhao smirked. "Dear niece, surely you and your mother don’t need all this. Your younger sister is ill; shouldn’t we share some?" "These were gifted to me by Miss Su," Meng Zhirou countered icily. "Why don’t you use the wooden charcoal instead?" "That stuff reeks! Even the servants refuse to burn it!" Meng Zhirou positioned herself protectively in front of the crates. "You will not lay a finger on these! And even if you take them, you’ll never open them!" Lady Zhao sneered. "Nonsense. An axe will solve everything." "But this isn’t just any lock—it’s a nine-turn mechanism. You can’t break it." "We’ll see about that. Steward, bring me an axe!" A burly servant soon appeared, wielding a hefty blade. As Lady Zhao ordered Meng Zhirou restrained, chaos erupted. Despite her protests, the servant swung the axe repeatedly at the lock, only for it to remain unscathed. Frustrated, Lady Zhao ordered him to attack the iron box itself. Yet despite his efforts, not a single dent marred its surface. Meng Zhirou laughed coldly. "These are Mo Sect creations. You could hack at them until dawn and achieve nothing." Enraged, Lady Zhao rounded on her. "You know how to open it. Do it now!" Meng Zhirou stood resolute, refusing to budge. "I said open it!" Lady Zhao raised her hand threateningly, but a weak voice intervened. "Enough!" Qu Shi, Meng Zhirou’s mother, emerged from her chambers, leaning heavily on her cane. "How dare you raise a hand to my daughter?" Lady Zhao plastered on a false smile. "Sister, please don’t misunderstand. How could I possibly harm your precious child?" "Get out!" Qu Shi thundered, pointing toward the gate. "Leave at once!" Lady Zhao’s smile faltered. "Sister..." "I said leave!" With a venomous glare, Lady Zhao stormed off, vowing revenge. When the master of the house returned, there would be consequences—but for now, Meng Zhirou savored her small victory.