A group of generals emerged from the Regent's mansion with troubled faces.
The war was proving difficult. The court was short on grain and soldiers, and even the once-renowned Regent was now crippled, his situation bleak.
Looking beyond the border, territories that once belonged to their dynasty had fallen. To make matters worse, the current Emperor was merely a ten-year-old child, and many factions were stirring restlessly.
Worry permeated the air.
Ye Qingcheng paused as she passed them.
She pushed open the study door and asked Xiao Wangye, who was quietly seated at his desk looking at something, "Are the borders fighting again?"
Xiao Wangye put down the victory report he was holding. "They've been fighting, but the intensity has increased again."
"What are the current difficulties? Are we short on soldiers or grain?"
Ye Qingcheng thought about how useful the survival skills she learned in the apocalypse were. She knew several simple and inexpensive ways to create filling food.
Xiao Wangye thought they were short on everything.
But he still said lightly, "Short on grain."
He looked at Ye Qingcheng intently. "Do you have any ideas?"
Ye Qingcheng gave a sly smile. "Of course, who do you think I am!"
Ultimately, Ye Qingcheng decided to put her skills to the test and make compressed biscuits.
These biscuits, once made and stored, were durable and long-lasting. Their simplest ingredients could be just wheat flour, sugar, and oil.
She went to the kitchen and enlisted some chefs, starting her grand food production plan.
Xiao Wangye watched Ye Qingcheng directing a group of people working enthusiastically in the courtyard, stroking the handles of his wheelchair.
If war was the invasion of barbarians, then the people who, upon seeing the signs of his legs healing, suggested he return to the battlefield...
"Oh, right, right!" Ye Qingcheng remembered something that had happened earlier. These continuous events had made her almost forget.
Xiao Wangye put away his thoughts and spoke to Ye Qingcheng coolly, "What is it?"
Ye Qingcheng asked him, "I encountered a group of refugees outside today. They are not doing well."
Xiao Wangye knew she was being compassionate again. He said, "There is no place to accommodate them now. The border soldiers are risking their lives. It's good enough that they are alive."
"Problems cannot be ignored just because they exist. As long as they exist, it's only a matter of time," Ye Qingcheng said coldly. "Even if we can't do anything for them now, having a plan or settling the refugees to prevent unrest is also possible."
"Since you've thought it through, just go ahead and do it," Xiao Wangye said casually. "If you need people, call on the people from the manor, but..."
Xiao Wangye sneered, "I won't be doing any charity for them. Figure it out yourself."
"You must have heard the saying that water can carry a boat, but it can also capsize it."
Ye Qingcheng felt that in Xiao Wangye's eyes, helping refugees was simply about throwing money around and being benevolent, expecting grateful thanks.
But this was incorrect. Helping refugees also served the purpose of social stability and maintaining national productivity.
"The number of refugees cannot be small. You might see them as parasites now, but if you settle them well—"
"I didn't say the action itself was bad."
Xiao Wangye paused for a long time this time, deciding to explain his thoughts to Ye Qingcheng.
"If I do it, it's as the Regent, representing the current overall situation."
"If you do it, you represent at most half of the Regent's manor. Whatever you do, people will at most say you are kind-hearted."
"This way, no matter what happens in between, major incidents will not arise."
Ye Qingcheng...
How did this person's mind work in such convoluted ways? In the end, if the news spread, it would still be the Regent's manor doing it.
Ye Qingcheng waved her hand. Since she had gotten her point across, she had nothing more to say.
Compressed biscuits required ingredients, mixing the dough, and pressing them into molds.
Ye Qingcheng mixed sesame oil, sugar, and wheat flour in proportion, needing to test several samples.
The chefs in the manor asked her, "Princess Consort, how much water should be added?"
Fortunately, Ye Qingcheng had some experience. She needed to test how much water this wheat flour could absorb.
Then came mixing the dough.
Ye Qingcheng took the lead, setting the wok over a high flame, adding oil, stirring evenly, then adding water and mixing well.
Ye Qingcheng was becoming more adept, but her posture when lifting the wok became increasingly strange, and soon she accidentally burned through the wok.
Ye Qingcheng lowered her head apologetically, then asked for help from the chefs.
Indeed, the manor's chefs were masters in food preparation. Under Ye Qingcheng's vague measurements, they gradually became familiar with the production process, and soon reached the molding stage.
This step was troublesome because she couldn't find any high-temperature or high-pressure equipment in ancient times. So, this step turned into several people surrounding a wok over a high flame, each holding a spatula to press the biscuits being made.
When the first batch of compressed biscuits was finally made, Ye Qingcheng took one out to taste before it had completely cooled. But with a turn of her eyes, she sent this unidentifiable item to Xiao Wangye.
Xiao Wangye was extremely disgusted. When he saw the item with a bit of wok residue brought before him, his intense aversion was almost overflowing.
Ye Qingcheng regretfully had to test it herself.
Ye Qingcheng...
Ye Qingcheng's face flashed with a myriad of colors. She felt like a Christian believer hearing the bells of heaven.
She swallowed the bizarre food with difficulty, thinking it was worse than pig feed.
"Um, Princess Consort, are there any improvements needed for these compressed biscuits?" a group of chefs asked cautiously.
She opened her mouth wide, recalling the taste, and said dully, "Well, there should have been less water, the ingredients weren't mixed evenly, and it's still too soft and mushy—"
She said to them, "Why don't you each take a wok and try it separately?"
She described again what compressed biscuits were like in her memory, and then offered a small reward to each of them.
"You can adjust it yourselves. Whoever makes it closest to compressed biscuits, I will grant him one request," Ye Qingcheng promised heartily.
Leaving this aside for the moment, the matter of the refugees remained unresolved.
She found the old steward and explained her intention. The steward, trying to understand the Princess Consort's thoughts, asked, "Princess Consort, do you want to provide porridge and charity?"
"No, I want to give them a place to live."
Before the steward could say more, Ye Qingcheng spoke first, "I don't raise useless people. If they are lazy and good-for-nothing, I will drive them out and publicize their flaws to everyone. If there are the old, weak, or young, I will have them find what they can do. Here, everyone can only earn their food and shelter through labor; I won't give them anything else. My hope is that one day, they will all have the ability to live on their own, and this place will not exist forever."
The steward sighed, but even so, it was enough for many people to clamor to get into this relief center.