Wen Zizhuo, who was heading north to provide disaster relief, was still basking in the joy of winning the hearts of the people. He had planned for this day for a long time, and it was only after the corruption case tripped up Wen Yichu that he was able to achieve this.

In his previous life, Wen Yichu, as the crown prince, was a good person in the eyes of the world. Among his father's five sons, he was the one who won the hearts of the people the most.

The eldest prince, as their elder brother, guarded the border for many years and commanded a large army, yet he never had the slightest thought of rebelling.

How foolish.

There were also his fourth and fifth brothers, who were fond of studying storybooks and even opened a teahouse. They had no interest in politics and were also foolish.

As for him, knowing he had no chance of the throne, he had a lot of ambitions but could only express them through wine.

However, on the very day Wen Yichu ascended the throne, he was reborn, specifically before Wen Yichu went north to provide disaster relief.

Heaven is giving him a chance.

How could he not be excited?

With this in mind, Wen Zizhuo, sitting in the carriage, had already figured out how to establish himself as a savior.

But the path to disaster relief was far more complicated than he had imagined.

Three days later, Wen Zizhuo finally arrived at his destination.

What he didn't know was that in the few days he was away, Wen Yichu had already traced his origins back to him and even rescued Shen Qingzhi's mother.

He easily pulled out the trump card he thought he had used to sow seeds of doubt in his father's heart.

Meanwhile, he was still extremely busy and overwhelmed at Yuanhua.

The disaster victims here did not show extreme enthusiasm and joy when they saw him; instead, it was as if the sky was about to fall.

Wen Zizhuo, who had just lifted the carriage curtain, thought he would be the center of attention.

Unexpectedly, although many people were watching him, the group soon began to whisper among themselves.

"This isn't His Highness the Crown Prince, it's that Second Prince who spends all his time drinking and having fun!"

"His Majesty sent this Second Prince, which means he has already given up on us. Once the money is in this master's hands, will we even get a share?"

"This time, we're probably really at our wits' end."

"What are you talking about? We're not out of options, we're just facing certain death."

Wen Zizhuo:? ? ?

He's already come all this way, how could he possibly have no way out?

Looking at the distrustful gazes of that group of people.

Okay, okay.

Wen Zizhuo did not believe in superstition.

He has been reborn. In this life, he will surely be a good prince and a good king.

After settling into an inn, Wen Zizhuo distributed the disaster relief supplies he had brought from Chong'an to local officials within a few days.

Disaster relief activities have also begun to proceed in an orderly manner.

He was ready to distribute porridge, chat with the disaster victims, and win over the hearts of the people.

Wen Zizhuo acted immediately.

The next morning, after the servants had cooked the porridge, they secured a good spot at the city gate.

The area around the city gate is bustling with people coming and going.

However, no one, no one drank his porridge!

There wasn't a single person there.

She didn't even dare to look in Wen Zizhuo's direction.

Wen Zizhuo stared at the large bucket of thick white porridge in front of him, turning it mercilessly with an iron spoon, and then glanced at the thin porridge prepared by the local officials next to him.

To be precise, calling it porridge is already an understatement of how much water that pot of water could produce.

After all, if you look closely, you can see some sand inside.

He couldn't understand it.

The disaster victims in Yuanhua also couldn't understand it.

Why did this second prince suddenly change his ways and cook a pot of porridge that would last them four or five days? Is he up to something?

Plain congee may smell delicious, but life is more important.

After waiting for half an incense stick's time, Wen Zizhuo, still waiting for someone to approach him, finally couldn't hold back any longer.

After giving his guards a few winks, he finally welcomed the first disaster victim who wanted to drink his porridge.

Although it was forced upon him by his men.

But the process is not important.

The disaster victim shakily raised the broken bowl in his hand, took the mouthful of hot white porridge, and his eyes lit up, but quickly dimmed again.

He carefully and slowly moved to the side.

In an instant, all eyes were on him, fixed on him.

Finally, unable to withstand the pressure, he decided to be the first one, even if it meant death.

Let's consider it for the greater good.

He lifted the bowl, swallowed the perfectly warm porridge in two or three gulps, and then let out a soft burp with great satisfaction.

After a while, he touched the rice grains that remained at the corner of his mouth.

Hey, you didn't die.

I even wanted another bowl.

Thinking this, he turned around, looked at the bucket of white porridge, his face contorted in a bitter expression, and was about to step over when...

The guard reached out to stop him: "Each person can only take one bowl."

His expression froze as he looked at the bowl in his hand, and he had no choice but to give up. Seeing that he was alright, the other disaster victims finally began to slowly gather around.

To prove his sincerity, Wen Zizhuo did everything himself for a whole day, and when he got back, he collapsed on the bed in the inn.

The inn was in terrible condition; the whole room was infested with mosquitoes, and the mosquito net on the bed had several holes in it.

Although he had lofty ambitions, he had indeed indulged in pleasure for more than a decade, and now he felt that comforting disaster victims was something that ordinary people could not do.

Unfortunately, the disaster-stricken area happened to be during the harvest season, meaning all the hard work done in the first half of the year was for naught.

It seems that distributing porridge daily is not a sustainable solution.

Wen Zizhuo lay on the bed, squinting.

He clearly remembered that Wen Yichu handled this matter quite well back then, and it didn't seem difficult at all. So why did it feel like he was trying to climb to the sky when it was his turn?

My dear reader, there's more to this chapter! Please click the next page to continue reading—even more exciting content awaits!