Xiang Changqing gasped. “Sir, three li—dig it all up and rebuild it? How much cement and labor will that take?” 

“Don’t worry about the cement—Zhu Laotong can supply it. As for the labor…” Duan Jin paused. “Tell the clerk to raise the daily wage for each laborer to thirty wen and provide two meals a day. Go see the village heads along the river and have them mobilize the villagers to work. This is to repair the embankment for their own benefit; they should be willing to help.”

Xiang Changqing took his leave to carry out the orders.

Both banks of the Lan River suddenly came alive with activity.

Hundreds of people were scattered along the river embankment—some digging earth, some carrying stones, some mixing mortar, and some building the embankment—with shouts of encouragement rising and falling all around. 

Duan Jin spent most of his days at the construction site; sometimes he’d find a random table to handle official business, and other times he’d join the workers, wading through the muddy water to dig and build the embankment.

Blisters formed on his hands; they would burst and scab over, only to be rubbed raw again—this cycle repeated until they eventually hardened into thick calluses.

Every day, the young prince had mung bean soup and herbal tea delivered to the construction site. Sometimes he would come himself, wearing a plain blue cotton shirt produced by his family’s dyeworks, standing in the shade of a distant tree and watching Duan Jin’s busy figure on the site—standing there for nearly half an hour at a time.

Day after day passed.

The project was progressing faster than Duan Jin had anticipated.

Thanks to Zhu Laotong’s relentless efforts, cement production had doubled, largely meeting the site’s needs.

The laborers worked hard; on one hand, the river embankment they were building would protect their own homes, and on the other, their wages were paid daily without fail. The meals were hearty—featuring either eggs or meat every day—and were even better than what they usually ate at home.

By mid-July, the most dangerous three li section of the old embankment had been excavated and rebuilt.

The newly constructed section of the embankment was built with stone masonry using cement mortar; stones were buried at the base to a depth of half a person’s height, the embankment body was raised by one chi compared to the original, and the crest was widened by three chi.

The badger holes were filled in tightly, and the cracks were sealed airtight with cement. The entire embankment resembled a massive gray-blue dragon lying across both banks of the Lan River, majestic and imposing.

Standing on the crest of the newly built embankment, Duan Jin gazed down at the river flowing slowly below him, and his heart settled a little. But he knew this was only the beginning.

Of the twenty-li-long river embankment, only three li had been completed. The remaining seventeen li, though not as dangerous as these three li, still needed to be reinforced and raised, with cracks filled and potential hazards eliminated.

He looked up at the sky.

The sky was still bright, without a single cloud in sight.

It was already July, and not a single drop of rain had fallen.

The drought was growing increasingly severe; the water level of the Lan River had dropped by half a chi compared to last month, and in some places, the riverbed was even exposed. The crops on both banks were wilted and withered, their leaves curled up, and the fields clearly showed signs of drought.

The villagers were beginning to panic.

“Didn’t Magistrate Duan say there would be a major flood in August? It’s already the end of July—why hasn’t a single drop of rain fallen?” 

“With the drought this severe, where would a flood come from? Magistrate Duan must have misjudged the situation.”

The murmurs grew louder and more frequent. Even some villagers who had originally supported building the levee began to waver, thinking Duan Jin was just making things up. Some even whispered privately that Magistrate Duan was, after all, young and inexperienced, and had been misled by a few county annals.

The villagers of Bailang Village and Shawei Village did speak up for Duan Jin, but they were outnumbered, and few paid attention to what they said.

Duan Jin heard these comments, but he neither explained nor refuted them; he simply went to the river embankment every day as usual, worked alongside the laborers as usual, and looked up at the sky as usual.

The last day of July.

That morning, as usual, he arrived at first light and, as usual, walked into the courtyard to look up at the sky.

The sky was still white, no different from the past two months; the cicadas’ chirping remained deafening, and the sun continued to scorch the earth mercilessly.

Yet he couldn’t quite put his finger on what was wrong; he just felt there was an indescribable, stifling heat in the air—damp and muggy, unsettling, as if something were about to happen.

In the afternoon, clouds began to gather on the horizon.

Thick and dark, they surged slowly across the horizon like a massive mountain.

Cumulonimbus clouds.

Duan Jin stood on the steps of the county magistrate’s office, watching the dark clouds drawing ever closer on the horizon, when he suddenly felt a sharp jolt inside. It’s coming.

“Liu Cheng!” he shouted.

Liu Cheng ran over from the side courtyard: “Sir!”

“Tell Changqing to lead a patrol along the river. Have them thoroughly inspect every section of the levee and report any dangers immediately!”

Liu Cheng: “Yes, sir!” 

“Feng Xin!”

“Go to the kiln and tell Zhu Laotong to transport all the cement to the levee for emergency use! Also, notify the village heads of every household along the river—have them organize manpower and stand ready to rush to the levee for emergency repairs at any moment!”

Feng Xin, seeing Duan Jin’s grave expression, asked no questions and turned to run. By evening, the sky had completely changed.

Dark clouds covered the entire sky, layer upon layer, like a thick black quilt covering the sky completely.

The sun had long since disappeared; the air was so stifling it was hard to breathe. There wasn’t a breath of wind, and even the cicadas had fallen silent.

This was the calm before the storm.

Duan Jin stood on the levee, gazing down at the Lan River below. The river’s surface was as smooth as a mirror, and the low water level had exposed vast stretches of riverbank, but he knew this was only temporary.

Once it rained upstream, the floodwaters would surge down within a few hours; by then, the Lan River… He walked up and down the riverbank again and again, inspecting…

The newly constructed three-li section of the embankment was as solid as a rock; the stones, laid with cement mortar, fit together seamlessly—not even a hammer could break them. The remaining sections had also been reinforced and raised, but since they used less cement—mainly mixed with other materials—they weren’t as strong as the new embankment. If the water levels rose too high, problems could still arise.

That night, Duan Jin was jolted awake by a clap of thunder.

He sprang out of bed, rushed barefoot to the window, and flung it open.

A bolt of lightning split the pitch-black night sky, bathing the world in a ghastly white light. Immediately afterward, another thunderclap reverberated, making the window frames buzz. Then, the rain came.

The raindrops pounded down as hard as pebbles, clattering against the roof tiles in a cacophony of sound. The wind picked up too, howling as it blew the curtain of rain diagonally across the open window, lashing Duan Jin’s face.

Duan Jin had no time to wipe the rain from his face; he turned, grabbed his clothes, and pulled them on as he ran outside.

Liu Cheng was already in the courtyard, soaked to the bone, shouting at the top of his lungs, “Sir! The constables report that the water level of the Lan River has begun to rise!” 

“How much has it risen?”

“It’s risen half a chi in one hour!”

Duan Jin’s heart sank suddenly.

One chi per hour—at this rate, the water will rise by two chi by tomorrow morning. Will the levee hold?

“Let’s go! To the levee!”

The rain grew heavier and more intense.

Duan Jin galloped toward the river embankment on horseback. The rain lashed his face and body, stinging with each blow. The road was a muddy mess; his horse’s hooves slipped several times, nearly throwing him off.

Liu Cheng followed on horseback. His riding skills weren’t very good, so he lagged behind, and the distance between them grew wider and wider. As he hurried along, he called out:

“Sir, slow down a little!”

Duan Jin paid no heed, lashing his horse fiercely with his whip.

By the time he reached the river embankment, Xiang Changqing was already there with several dozen men. Following Duan Jin’s orders, he had stationed guards at regular intervals along the embankment; the section where he was currently positioned was the most vulnerable and dangerous.

Every one of these men was soaked to the bone, but no one sought shelter, and no one retreated.

Some were patrolling the embankment back and forth, some were hauling sandbags, and others were reinforcing weak spots. Through the curtain of rain, the silhouettes of those dozens of men appeared faint and shadowy, like a group of ghosts battling the storm and the heavens.

“Sir!” Xiang Changqing ran over, rain streaming down his face so hard it was impossible to keep his eyes open. “The water level is still rising—it’s gone up another two inches since just a moment ago!”

“Which areas are the most dangerous?” Duan Jin wiped the rain from his face and asked loudly.

“There are several cracks in the eastern section. They were covered with soil when we repaired the embankment earlier, so we didn’t notice them, but now that the soil has been washed away, the cracks have been exposed!”

“Take me there!”

Duan Jin ran over to the eastern section. Sure enough, the cracks had been re-exposed by the heavy rain, and muddy water was pouring in through them; the embankment was clearly becoming soft.

“Cement! Bring the cement!” Duan Jin shouted.

As soon as the cracks appeared, Xiang Changqing had already arranged for cement to be brought in to repair them. By the time Duan Jin arrived, several workers had just finished mixing the cement with sand and gravel, and he immediately took charge, shoveling the mixture into the cracks one scoop at a time.

Rain pelted his back, soaking his clothes time and time again, but the shovel in his hand never stopped moving for a single moment. 

Duan Jin didn’t close his eyes for a single moment all night.

He walked up and down the river embankment several times, from west to east, then from east to west.

He personally inspected every crack, every pipe seepage, and every patch of soft ground.

His voice was hoarse from shouting, his legs were swollen from walking, and his hands burned with a stinging pain from the cement mortar, but he never stopped for a single step. By dawn, the rain had eased slightly, but it hadn’t stopped.

Xiang Changqing ran over to report: “Sir, the water level has risen nearly two feet! The new embankment is holding up just fine—not a single problem! There are a few seepages on the old embankment, but they’ve been plugged with sandbags and are gradually being repaired with cement. It’s under control for now!”

Duan Jin gazed at the rapidly rising river waters at his feet; the Lan River was no longer the gentle river it had been the day before.

The river water was murky and yellow, carrying silt, branches, and weeds swept down from upstream as it roared downstream. The waves crashed against the base of the levee, making a tremendous noise and sending water spraying more than a person’s height into the air.

The water at the base of the embankment was already nearly halfway up its height. He hung suspended in midair.

Xiao Yunqing wasn’t idle either. He dispatched the guards and secret agents he’d brought with him to assist Duan Jin. The remaining attendants stayed with him at the county office, where they boiled pot after pot of ginger tea using a formula prepared by the imperial physician. As soon as dawn broke, they delivered the hot, medicinal tea to the embankment.

Duan Jin drank the hot, spicy ginger tea, feeling a warm glow spread through him. The rain continued to fall, unceasingly for five days and five nights.

The heaviest rain fell over two days, pouring down in torrents. The world was shrouded in a white haze, and one could not make out a person’s silhouette more than a few feet away.

The water level of the Lan River rose rapidly at a rate of one chi per day; by the third day, it had reached its highest level in decades. The murky river water churned with white foam, repeatedly crashing against the embankment with a thunderous roar.

For the remaining three days, the rain eased to a light drizzle, as if a hole had been poked in the sky and the water could never stop leaking. But the water level did not, remaining at a dangerous but still manageable level.

Early on the sixth day, the rain finally stopped.

A sliver of light appeared on the horizon, as if someone had cut a slit in the sky, and long-awaited sunlight streamed through the gap in the clouds.