After Transmigration: Building a Kingdom in Turbulent Times

Chapter 1162 - 1144: Father and Son Heart-to-Heart

After watering all the vegetables, he seemed to notice green sprouts in the first plot of land. He squatted down to take a closer look, and upon confirming his observation, happily continued to fetch water.

Fu An squatted behind the grass, about to pass by when Shi Hongtu grabbed him by the collar and asked, "Where are you going?"

"The young master has filled all the water jars; he must have forgotten his thoughts, so I’m going to remind him."

"The Great General doesn’t allow us to interrupt the young master. The fetched water won’t be wasted, and even more can be stored in wooden barrels." Shi Hongtu always thought Fu Tinghan needed exercise, but he just didn’t like to move. Exercising with the Great General in the morning was already his physical limit. While staying on the mountain these days, without the Great General supervising, he did everything except exercise, which made Shi Hongtu anxious for him.

Well, fetching more water can count as exercise.

Fu Tinghan stood by the spring and gazed downwards. It was almost time for dinner, so wisps of cooking smoke rose from the foot of the mountain.

In fact, water resources are somewhat scarce in the north, and potable water has always been an issue. Adapting to the local environment, what methods are there to lift water to higher elevations?

Currently, drilling a well is very costly, with high risks and long time requirements. In areas where water is hard to come by, very deep digging is necessary, which is difficult with current technology.

Fu Tinghan bent over and carried the water back. He immediately went into the thatched hut, pulled out a sheet of white paper, and picked up a brush to dip into Fu Xuan’s ink.

Fu Xuan, who was engrossed in writing, didn’t notice. Both father and son were only brought back to their senses by the fact that it was too dark for them to see.

Fu Xuan looked up, momentarily dazzled, unsure of where he was, and casually said, "Light the lamp."

Fu Tinghan, however, snapped back to reality and found a lamp to light.

Only then did Fu Xuan remember they were in the thatched hut. He scratched the itchy spot behind his ear and asked, "I’m a bit hungry. What are we eating tonight?"

Fu Tinghan said, "Let’s have porridge. I’ll go cook it."

Only then did Fu Xuan realize they hadn’t cooked yet. He put down his brush, got up, glanced at the drawings on his paper, paused for a moment, and then followed him out.

Fu Tinghan quickly rinsed the rice, lit a fire, and placed it on a simple stone-built stove.

Fu Xuan imitated his actions, took a wooden stump, adjusted his robe, and sat beside him, curiously asking, "What are you drawing?"

"Which one do you mean? The farming tools drawn in the afternoon, and just now, some equipment for well digging. They might not be usable yet, so I’ll sketch them out, consult a well-digging craftsman later, and revise them for trial use."

Fu Xuan asked, "Have you been doing this kind of craftsmanship at the Ministry of Personnel?"

Fu Tinghan replied, "More or less."

"Does it make you happy?"

Fu Tinghan answered, "If the things I think of are useful, I’m happy. If not, my mood is just average."

"You used to show interest in the ’Book of Changes,’ which is why your arithmetic was excellent. I didn’t know you also had a liking and aptitude for craftsmanship." Fu Xuan turned to look at him. "I thought you would be more skilled in Confucianism and Taoism but didn’t expect you to delve into the Mo School."

Fu Tinghan said, "Is there anything wrong with the Mo School? Both work for the people; achieving results is what matters."

Fu Xuan chuckled, "You didn’t used to say that. You said military and Mo methods were merely techniques, means to an end. To govern the country and stabilize troubled times, one must change from the ideological level, which is why you delved into Confucianism and Taoism, seeking a solution."

"It’s also the reason why you had such a big conflict with your mother."

Fu Tinghan was taken aback, trying hard to recall. Finally, he remembered the scene of his argument with Princess Hongnong. Although the memory was blurry, the thoughts and emotions surged clearly at that moment.

A young, brave, patriotic boy told his mother that according to Confucian rituals, the Jin State had unjustly obtained power and shouldn’t exist. Since it does, it’s against divine will, thus resulting in chaos under heaven;

According to Taoist natural law, the Jin State should have perished long ago in accordance with the people’s will. It’s because of their persistent support that the Jin State neither rises nor falls, hence trapping the people in prolonged war.

The young man felt it was better to stir this world in a big way, letting all the decay perish, offering a chance for rebirth.

At the time, the one on the throne was still Princess Hongnong’s father, Fu Changrong’s grandfather. The War of the Eight Princes was in its thirteenth year. Prince East Sea had stormed into the Capital City, another batch of people died, dragging Central Plains, Yongzhou, and Si Province into chaos.

Whenever Fu Changrong went out, he could see people who starved to death or were killed due to wounds, and outside the city, corpses were everywhere. This filled the heart of the well-educated youth with resentment toward the Great Jin Dynasty, unable to find a reason for its continuance.

Unlike Fu Zhi, Zhao Changyu, and Wang Dao, who saw the world from a broader perspective, Fu Zhi and the others longed for peace, peace where no reforms were necessary, and no more wars occurred. For this, they were willing to endure some injustice, all to shield the people under a tattered umbrella.

He was more radical and lively, wanting to destruct before constructing, burying all decay to establish a new government aligning with his and the people’s will, ripping apart the old, tattered umbrella and crafting a new one.

Even if one gets drenched in the transition from the old to the new umbrella, the thought of eventually having a new umbrella was comforting, believing they could dry off gradually.

Fu Tinghan pulled from his memories, lowered his eyes, and remained silent. He couldn’t discern whether either approach was right or wrong, perhaps both were right, and wrong.

Should people get wet, they might fall ill when drying, possibly leading to demise;

With a tattered umbrella, one may temporarily avoid getting wet, but if the umbrella cannot be repaired, getting wet is inevitable, a matter of time, and may still fall ill.

Fu Xuan asked, "So have you reconciled with your mother now? I see you two getting along quite well recently. Just the other day, when she said that about you, it was out of grief over your grandfather’s passing, not really blaming you for being unfilial."

"I know," Fu Tinghan replied, "I’m not angry with her."

Fu Xuan exhaled, then the conversation between him and his son fell silent again.

He scratched behind his ear, frustrated. Why is it so hard? He thought they’d have more to say to each other, only to find in three days they’ve said less than he does with the Princess in one day.

Fu Xuan couldn’t help but ask, "Ting Han, do you and Hanzhang also interact like this?"

Fu Tinghan looked at his father in confusion, nodded, and said, "Yes."

Fu Xuan’s eyes widened, "There’s no conversation?"

Fu Tinghan hesitated before asking, "Would you like to hear about well digging?"

"Never mind, I’m not interested in that."

The father and son fell into silence again. After the porridge was cooked, they quietly ate, then washed up and prepared for bed.

By the way, they ate plain porridge, as the pickles from lunch were gone, so it was just plain porridge.

Fortunately, Zhao Hanzhang arrived the next day with a basket of goods for them, including various vegetables, eggs, and... writing materials and official documents.