The frontier regions were short on supplies and valued frugality.
Huanfu Song himself wasn’t one for excessive formality either.
So, after discussing the aid plans for the grasslands, he politely took his leave and escorted Mengde back to her residence inside the governor’s estate.
While Mengde was chatting with General Huanfu, Liu Bei had already finished organizing everything in the residence.
So the moment she returned to her room, the girl let out a cheer and dove happily onto her soft bed.
“Ohhh yes! Nothing beats my own little doghouse!”
She grinned while hugging her blanket tightly, causing Liu Bei, who stood nearby, to grimace.
“Miss, no matter how rough the living conditions are here at General Huanfu’s, calling it a ‘doghouse’ might be a bit much, don’t you think?”
“It’s just a figure of speech! I’m basically a lazy dog right now…”
Mengde waved her hand nonchalantly.
After lounging for a moment, she got up and sat on the edge of the bed, swinging her legs while excitedly sharing the news with Liu Bei.
“By the way, my plan is almost a success. I just had a great talk with General Huanfu, and he agreed to support my aid project for the grasslands. The hardest part is over. As long as nothing goes wrong from here on out, the people on the frontier should be able to have a good New Year.”
Liu Bei was visibly moved.
He clasped his hands and bowed slightly to her.
“In that case, allow me to thank you on behalf of the people of Zhuo Commandery, Miss.”
“Oh please, it’s nothing~”
Mengde waved him off like it was no big deal, though the slight curl of her lips revealed how pleased she truly was.
Clearly, Liu Bei’s gratitude had gone straight to her heart.
After thanking her, Liu Bei hesitated for a moment before voicing a concern.
“Miss, for a plan this large… are you really not planning to report it to the court? Transporting that much grain to the northern grasslands can’t be cheap. No matter how wealthy the Cao family is, isn’t this a bit of a waste?”
“Report it to the court?” Mengde looked at him with a sly smile.
“Do you really think His Majesty, sitting comfortably in the palace at Luoyang, would be willing to spend billions of coins on a few borderland peasants? He’d probably rather stash that money away in the West Garden.”
“That’s…”
“And besides—”
Mengde waved her hand grandly.
“So what if we lose money? I’m glad to lose money. The more we lose, the better! If the Cao family keeps making nothing but profits for years on end, then the Han economy is as good as doomed.”
“The Han economy will collapse?” Liu Bei was startled.
“Isn’t that a bit extreme?”
“It’s not!”
Mengde nodded seriously and gave Liu Bei a striking figure.
“The Cao family currently produces over 20,000 tons of pig iron and steel each year. Even if we sell one jin of iron at ten coins, we’re making a two-coin profit per jin. Just selling pig iron alone earns us over a billion coins a year in profit. And that’s without processing it.”
“On top of that, our ironworks also produce steel, and we manufacture weapons and farming tools. Realistically, our annual profit is over ten billion coins. If we just keep raking in profits like that, the Han court will run out of usable funds in no time.”
“That sounds hard to believe…” Liu Bei said hesitantly.
“But the court collects over a hundred billion in taxes every year, doesn’t it? Why hasn’t the Han government run out of money yet?”
“Because while the court collects money, it also spends it. Have you ever seen the imperial treasury overflowing? But the Cao family’s ten billion annual profit? That’s pure net profit—untouched. It can just be buried away indefinitely.”
“And while the court does collect taxes, most of that is in grain. It’s only valued at over a hundred billion coins—it’s not actual coinage. But when my family does business, we collect real five-zhu coins, not grain. If we keep doing that without spending, the entire Han economy will face a currency shortage.”
“So that’s why you’ve always tried to spend money in all sorts of ways?”
Liu Bei finally understood.
Mengde was known for her lavish spending.
He had always assumed it was simply extravagance and had often advised her to be more frugal.
But now, he realized she had always been thinking about how to spend the money as quickly as possible.
One more long-standing confusion in Liu Bei’s heart had finally been resolved.
“Well, what did you think? That I’m just some spoiled young master who only knows how to waste money?”
Mengde stood up from the bed with a faint smile.
She rose on her tiptoes and playfully ruffled Liu Bei’s hair like he was a dog.
Liu Bei muttered helplessly.
“Young master? You’re clearly a young lady…”
“You jerk!”
Mengde’s smile instantly vanished.
She puffed out her cheeks and glared at Liu Bei in protest.
‘Can you not bring up something so painful?’
‘How did I, the mighty Boss Cao, end up inexplicably becoming Lady Cao instead?’
The girl waved her hand impatiently.
“Alright, alright, just get out of here already. If you don’t go now, I’m going to get mad!”
“Oh…”
Just like that, Liu Bei was kicked out of Mengde’s room.
He turned and headed back to his own quarters.
***
But after taking a few steps, he suddenly glanced back at her room, as if hoping to see the girl through the walls.
A surge of frustration bubbled up in his heart.
Even after working so hard… ‘was he still unable to keep up with her?’
He recalled what she had said just moments ago.
While Mengde was already thinking of ways to spend money in order to prevent the Han Dynasty from falling into financial crisis, his own thoughts were still stuck on frugality.
‘Was he really destined to never catch up to her?’
‘No—he just hadn’t worked hard enough…!’
That’s what Liu Bei told himself as he pulled out a notebook from inside his robes.
It was about the size of a palm, made from expensive Zuobo paper.
It was a New Year’s gift from Mengde several months ago.
Liu Bei also took out a charcoal pencil and carefully wrote down everything Mengde had just said.
Nearly a tenth of the notebook was already filled, packed tightly with words.
All of it was made up of things Mengde had said over the past few days—words that Liu Bei didn’t quite understand at the time.
Ever since that strange moment of heart-fluttering the other day, he had been determined to catch up to her in knowledge.
He didn’t want to keep following behind her like a mere assistant.
He wanted to understand her words, to be able to talk to her on her level and share in her thoughts.
That’s why he recorded everything she said that he didn’t fully grasp, planning to study them carefully whenever he had time.
If there were parts he still didn’t get, he’d ask their teacher for help once they returned.
And if even the teacher didn’t know… then he’d just have to ask Mengde herself—indirectly, of course.
Liu Bei didn’t want Mengde to know he was working so hard just to understand her.
He was afraid she’d laugh at him for being dumb.
He didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of her.
***
Night fell.
The moon had already entered its dark phase.
Sparse starlight gently lit the ground, offering just enough illumination for Liu Bei as he practiced his swordwork.
He dreamed of one day catching up to Mengde.
But he knew that no matter how hard he tried, he might only barely understand her intellectually.
So to make himself more useful, he had to keep improving in martial arts.
Ever since joining her side, Liu Bei had never heard of Mengde showing any talent for combat.
She never practiced with weapons, and there were no rumors of her training in martial arts either.
So he assumed her physical skills were likely lacking.
If he wanted to become Mengde’s right-hand man in the future, he needed to continue honing his swordsmanship.
He couldn’t afford to fall behind in military strategy either.
Only by doing this could he become her most reliable sword and shield—someone who could always protect her.
“Haa…”
After finishing a full set of sword forms, Liu Bei wiped away his sweat.
He planned to rest for a dozen seconds before practicing for another quarter-hour, completing a full two-session workout.
He didn’t intend to push himself without limits.
As the saying went, ‘Balance between rest and effort is the essence of both literature and martial arts.’ Too much laziness would lead to ruin, but pushing the body too hard for too long would cause lasting damage as well.
In Han Dynasty terms, one quarter-hour was roughly equivalent to fifteen minutes.
Liu Bei practiced in secret every night for just two such sessions—half an hour total.
By sticking to this plan, he would accumulate over seventy extra hours of training in a year compared to his old self.
After his break, Liu Bei once again began swinging his twin swords in silence.
If Mengde, now already sound asleep in bed, had seen this scene, she would’ve blurted out—
“What the heck? Is he some kind of tryhard king?!”
Unfortunately, the girl—who was known for her laziness and love of sleeping in—was in no state to witness Liu Bei’s efforts tonight.
But one day, his sweat and hard work would bear fruit.
No matter how oblivious Mengde might seem, one day she would surely notice the silent devotion Liu Bei had always shown her from the shadows.