The prince suddenly raised his hand, startling Jiang Jinzhao so much that he almost drew his sword. Instead, he simply brushed the fallen leaves off Jiang Songyi's shoulder: "If destiny doesn't lie with Western Wei."
"Then change your fate!" Jiang Songyi suddenly grabbed his sleeve, "Your Highness, do you know that in your previous life, Yue Qingyang massacred the city for three days? The moat was full of corpses, and even the children were not spared!" Her eyes were bloodshot, as if she saw the scene of the wet nurse being picked up by the spear again.
Xin Yidao stared at the maple leaves in awe. Ten years ago, he observed the stars at night and saw the Purple Star set in Dongling. That night, he burned all his divination instruments, only to discover a mutant double-eared rice plant in his backyard. From then on, he realized that rather than defying fate, it would be better to give the people an extra two dou of grain.
"The hybrid rice your highness has grown on Mount Taibai can feed ten thousand people!" Jiang Songyi suddenly pulled out a cloth bag with three golden grains of rice inside. "If you ascend the throne, you can ensure everyone in the world has enough to eat!"
Xin Yidao's pupils suddenly shrank. This rice seed was clearly a new variety he had cultivated just last month, and even his personal guards didn't know about it. He suddenly remembered that the granary was robbed half a month ago, and it turned out to be this audacious girl!
Jiang Jinzhao was horrified when he heard this. He recognized the rice seeds—a handful hidden in the secret compartment of his father's study, said to be a treasure that could save a hundred thousand border troops. Now, his sister was casually tucked away in her arms as a bargaining chip.
"If I were to become emperor," the prince said, caressing the rice, and suddenly chuckled. "The first decree I would issue would be to ban Mr. Zizhu's storybook." He reached out and poked Jiang Songyi between the eyebrows. "Look at what you've taught that little girl."
A sudden gust of wind blew through the forest, sweeping dead leaves past the three of them. Jiang Songyi was about to say something when the prince jumped onto his horse and said, "Let's go back to camp. It's time to water my corn."
On the way back, Jiang Jinzhao stared at the bag of rice seeds dangling from his sister's waist. He suddenly remembered the secret report he had received that morning—a "Shennong Envoy" had recently appeared in Dongling State, teaching the people on the border how to grow new rice. If the crown prince truly had no desire for the throne, why would he send rice seeds to an enemy country?
Jiang Songyi felt the slip of paper that had suddenly appeared in her sleeve. Unfolding it, she saw the familiar thin gold script: "Three quarters past midnight, cornfield." She looked up at the Crown Prince's back. He was humming a strange tune, the same tune she had often heard in the cold palace in her previous life.
"Father is right," Jiang Jinzhao suddenly said, "Your Highness the Crown Prince." He was interrupted by a horn before he could finish his words. Ahead, smoke and dust billowed; it was the Second Prince and his imperial guards galloping towards them, their horses' hooves shattering the mottled light and shadows on the ground.
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