Take control of Wei Zhongxian at the start and confiscate 100 million from him!

Chapter 277 Zhang Zhuo: The Emperor Cured My Mental Inflation

Songjiang Prefecture was sweltering in the summer heat.

The afternoon sun had passed its zenith, its color changing from golden to incandescent, losing its morning warmth and leaving only a chilling poison.

Sunlight streamed through the latticework of the sliding windows, casting bright, gleaming patterns on the workshop's brick floor.

Tiny dust particles floated in the air, tumbling and sinking in the beam of light, just like the insignificant beings in the world.

The interior was exceptionally clean.

The old loom that had been with Zhang Zhuo for most of his life sat in the corner.

The shuttle lay quietly on the loom, the warp and weft threads stretched taut, like an ancient zither without strings.

The jujube wood of the machine body has been worn smooth by the years, but the owner has repeatedly wiped it with a soft cloth and tung oil, and every mortise and tenon joint has a warm and solid luster.

Today, this machine, which should be making a clattering sound, is as silent as an ancient well.

Zhang Zhuo did not weave cloth.

He sat at the only square table in the neighborhood, where there was no tea or food, only a soft cloth and an object he was holding.

It was a brass plaque, about the size of a palm, heavy and reassuring in its weight.

The bronze plaque was polished to a very high shine, with rounded edges and a cool feel to the touch. On the front, several characters were engraved in official style:
Zhang Zhuo, a fifth-level craftsman
Zhang Zhuo hunched over, his gray head almost buried in his chest.

Those calloused, large hands were now touching a newborn baby with the gentle touch of a caress.

He used the soft cloth in his hand to wipe the bronze plaque again and again, repeatedly. He wasn't wiping away the dust on the plaque, which was already spotless. What he was wiping away was his own anxious yet hopeful heart.

Three days ago, he took over the plaque.

Along with the sign came an official document.

The words on white paper with black ink and a vermilion official seal were so numerous that even this old craftsman, who could barely recognize a handful of characters, had to ask the literate boy next door to read them aloud more than a dozen times before he dared to believe it was real.

He, Zhang Zhuo, a weaver engaged in the lowly trade, will be able to register as a craftsman starting from the beginning of next month, becoming a fifth-level official craftsman of the "Songjiang Cotton Textile Bureau" in Songjiang Prefecture.

Official craftsman.

They received a monthly stipend of two taels of silver.

The factory provides two solid meals a day, and outside the city, thirty acres of official land are allocated to the employee. Although the employee can only cultivate the land while in office, all the produce belongs to the employee.

Most importantly, his grandson, who had just turned seven and was still playing in the mud, could use this "craftsman's certificate" to enter the government-run primary school for free to learn to read and write in the autumn!
Read and learn to read!

This incident shattered Zhang Zhuo's mind, which had been in a state of confusion for most of his life.

His ancestors were all weavers. Starting with his great-grandfather, they faced the loom with their backs to the sky, spending their whole lives bent over, living their lives like a taut yarn.

This was especially true for his generation. He never expected anything else, only that God would be kind and that the weather would be favorable so that he could weave a few more bolts of cloth and exchange them for a few bushels of rice, so that his family would not go hungry.

As for reading... that's for men.

He, a lowly craftsman, didn't even dare to dream of such a thing. His son, Zhang Xiaowu, could only write his own name and was still completely blind. He thought that his grandson and his grandson's grandson would all suffer the same fate.

But now, this incredible stroke of luck has fallen on Zhang Zhuo's head without any warning.

He was grateful.

In the dead of night, he would quietly get up, face the direction of Nanjing, and kowtow three times.

Zhang Zhuo didn't know what the emperor looked like, but in his simple understanding, no one but the true Son of Heaven could accomplish such a feat as making stones bloom.

This kindness is a blessing from heaven.

Zhang Zhuo was very much looking forward to it.

He could almost see himself wearing a clean official factory uniform, working alongside the best craftsmen in the Jiangnan region on those brand-new looms in a bright and clean factory.

He could almost hear his chubby-cheeked grandson sitting in the bright schoolroom, swaying his head as he recited after the teacher: "Heaven and earth were dark and yellow, the universe was vast and boundless..."

However, beneath the tide of gratitude and anticipation, a cold undercurrent would occasionally rise up, sending chills down his spine.

That was a deep-seated fear, a fear ingrained in the bones of ordinary people.

Is there really such a thing as a free lunch?
He could not forget Qian Delong's fierce and menacing appearance.

But I can't forget how Qian Delong collapsed to the ground right in front of him, until he was beheaded!

Everything happened as fast as a gust of wind.

As quickly as it comes, it goes as quickly as it comes.

But the unease in Zhang Zhuo's heart remained.

How powerful was the Qian family in Songjiang Prefecture?

I heard that they have a relative who is a high-ranking official in the capital, and they can just set up a mere crafts register office without any trouble?
Is this bronze plaque and this official document really stronger than the Qian family's foundation built over decades?
Could this incredible good news just be a passing fad? Once the hype dies down, will everything go back to normal?

At that time, will those unseen and intangible, yet even more powerful, men behind the Qian family come knocking on my door and crush my insignificant happiness, along with my worthless life, as easily as crushing an ant?

The more Zhang Zhuo thought about it, the heavier his heart became, and cold sweat involuntarily seeped from his hand holding the bronze medal.

Can this bronze medal really protect me for a lifetime?
Just as he was lost in thought—

"Thump! Thump-thump-clang! Thump-thump-clang!"

“Crackling—!”

A sudden burst of frantic gongs, drums, and firecrackers erupted from the long street outside the neighborhood, without warning, like a thunderclap!

The sound was deafening, as if it would overturn the entire street.

Immediately following was a deafening roar of cheers, the shouts of countless people merging into a scalding torrent that washed over the doors and windows of every house along the street. Zhang Zhuo was jolted awake from his reverie.

He suddenly stood up, walked to the door, and lifted the worn curtain to look outside.

The streets are in chaos!
The streets, usually lifeless and dreary, were now like boiling water.

Whether they were vendors, shop assistants, idlers, or children, everyone poured out of the houses and gathered in the center of the street.

Their faces were flushed, and they were waving their arms like madmen.

"We won! We won!"

"Breaking News! Great Victory in Northern Xinjiang! The Khorchin Clan Has Been Exterminated!"

"Kill him! Kill that damned Khan!"

"Hahahaha! So happy! So happy!"

"Extermination of the clan!" "King slain!" "Great victory!"

These fragmented words, yet filled with bloodshed and ecstasy, intermittently entered Zhang Zhuo's ears along with the sound waves. He was completely bewildered, feeling as if the blood in his body was boiling uncontrollably with the clamor.

Before he could figure out what was happening, the curtain was suddenly flung open with a whoosh.

"Father! Father!"

Zhang Xiaowu rushed in like a gust of wind.

His face was flushed, the veins on his forehead were throbbing, and his chest was heaving violently, as if he had just run ten miles.

"Father!" He rushed to Zhang Zhuo, grabbed his father's arm, his voice hoarse and cracked with extreme excitement, "We...we won! Our Great Ming has won a tremendous victory!"

Zhang Zhuo was thrown off balance by his sudden movement. After regaining her footing, she asked urgently, "Slow down! What do you mean, 'won'?"

"Tartars! Tartars from the north!" Zhang Xiaowu gasped for breath, his words incoherent yet strangely clear. "The imperial court's victory report just arrived at the government office! His Majesty dispatched Commander Man Gui with 30,000 elite troops to cross the border and wipe out... wipe out that Mongol tribe called 'Khorchin'!"

"What?" Zhang Zhuo felt his head buzz.

"It's true, Dad!" Zhang Xiao T stamped his feet anxiously when his father didn't believe him. "It's all over the streets! They say our royal army only took three days! Three days to wipe out that once arrogant Mongol tribe! They even cut off their Khan Oba's head!"

He became more and more excited as he spoke, gesturing wildly as if he had witnessed it with his own eyes.

"And another thing! They also conscripted three thousand able-bodied men! They're all to build roads and mines for our Great Ming!"

"They even burned down their temple! Cutting off their incense offerings!"

"They even robbed them of their thousands of miles of fertile land, and countless cattle and sheep... no, they took it all back! It all went to the imperial court! It all went to His Majesty!"

Zhang Xiaowu finished speaking in one breath, so excited that he couldn't speak. He just opened his mouth and gasped for breath. The look of pride on his face was something Zhang Zhuo had never seen on his son's face before.

Zhang Zhuo was completely stunned.

He stood frozen in place, like a clay statue, completely still.

He could hear his son's heavy breathing and the tsunami-like cheers outside the window, but he couldn't hear anything anymore.

Exterminate the clan, behead the king, burn the ancestral shrines, seize the land, and demote the slaves.

These words, brimming with iron and blood, formed an extremely brutal, domineering, and magnificent picture that unfolded dramatically in his mind.

That sense of power beyond human capabilities, a power capable of destroying the world, struck his soul fiercely through this simple description.

Zhang Zhuo's gaze slowly moved down from his son's face, which was contorted with ecstasy.

It eventually fell back into the hand that it had been holding tightly.

The heavy brass plaque still lay quietly in his palm.

A thought suddenly rushed into his mind, cleaving through all the confusion, bewilderment, and unease!
Yes……

That person who bestowed upon him the status of "official craftsman" allowed him, a commoner of low social status, to finally stand tall and be a person of dignity...

The emperor who enabled his grandson to learn to read and write, who gave the Zhang family hope and bestowed upon him an immense favor…

And that...

"Destroying a nation in a single battle, beheading its king, burning its ancestral shrines, and seizing its land," the emperor, who unleashed a thunderous campaign from a thousand miles away, displaying his supreme divine might...

It's the same person.

At that moment, Zhang Zhuo trembled all over!

The thorn that had been lingering in his heart for days was instantly burned to ashes by this bolt of lightning!
No wonder!
No wonder that small crafts register dared to challenge the deeply entrenched Qian family of Songjiang Prefecture!

No wonder the incredibly wealthy Qian Delong was treated like a pig or a dog, and crushed like an ant!

I see! I see!

Behind them stood the Emperor, who could overturn the very existence of a tribe with a mere laugh!
An emperor with the power of thunder and lightning!
The emperor's majesty is like the sun and moon traversing the sky, and rivers flowing across the land.

Those who follow the way prosper, those who oppose it perish!

What is a little Qian Delong anyway?
What are those so-called big shots behind him anyway?
Before a king who disrespects even gods and Buddhas and can exterminate a clan at will, what difference is there between them, the powerful and gentry of the mortal world, and a mantis blocking a wheel, or an ant trying to shake a tree?
Anyone who dares to defy imperial authority, anyone who dares to oppose the emperor, shall die!
No, I'm afraid even death is a luxury; it's a situation where one can neither live nor die!

Having figured this out, Zhang Zhuo felt a surge of scalding heat suddenly spread from his chest throughout his body!

That was an unprecedented, immense peace that could melt even the bones!
All his fear and anxiety vanished in that instant!

Zhang Zhuo raised the brass plaque in his hand again, his hand trembling.

Sunlight streamed through the window, and a beam of light shone directly onto the bronze plaque. The golden surface of the plaque instantly reflected a dazzling golden light, so bright that it was hard to open one's eyes!
(End of this chapter)