My hotel is full of emperors throughout history.

The first batch of 3,000 Japanese slaves were escorted to the Dengzhou mines.

It was a silver mine that had been abandoned for many years. It was said to have been mined in the previous dynasty, but it was later shut down due to a mining accident.

Now that it has been reopened, the mine is bottomless, the tunnels are narrow and dark, and only a few oil lamps can barely provide any light.

The person in charge of supervising the work was an old mine foreman surnamed Zheng, whose family had been miners for three generations.

He watched as the Japanese slaves were driven into the mine without even blinking.

"Get to work!" he roared in broken Japanese, brandishing his whip. "If you don't dig up your quota in a day, you won't get any food! Dare to slack off, and you'll get a whipping!"

Those Japanese slaves couldn't understand his words, but they could see his whip.

In the first month, seventeen people died from exhaustion. In the second month, a landslide killed twenty-three people.

In the third month, an epidemic broke out, killing forty-six people.

For every person who died, Zheng, the mine foreman, would cross a line off the ledger.

When it came time to submit the accounts at the end of the month, he simply said it casually.

"Another batch has died. We need to ask the Ministry of Revenue for new ones."

The officials from the Ministry of Revenue didn't ask any further questions. They simply allocated quotas for the next batch of prisoners and offered a casual reminder.

"Don't die too quickly. These people are the property of the imperial court; if they die, we'll have to replace them, which is troublesome."

Zheng, the mine manager, nodded in agreement.

On his way back to the mine, he suddenly remembered what his grandfather had said—

"In the mining industry, the least valuable thing is human life."

He thought, "That's so true."

Later, in the autumn of the tenth year of the Zhenguan era, the first batch of silver ingots was transported from Japan to Dengzhou, and finally arrived in Chang'an.

That was a full 100,000 taels, of excellent quality, far surpassing any other mine in the Central Plains.

The silver ingot is inscribed with the four characters "Great Tang Silversmithing," the characters are clear, and the silver shines brightly.

The Minister of Revenue personally inspected it and examined it for a long time.

Then he looked up and asked the escorting official.

"Is everything going smoothly over there?"

The official bowed his head and said.

"Reporting to you, sir, everything at the mine is proceeding as usual. The monthly payout is approximately eight thousand taels of silver, and the number of prisoners killed is approximately... over one hundred."

The Minister of Revenue remained silent.

After a long while, he waved his hand.

"Understood. You may leave."

The official withdrew.

The Minister stood alone in the storeroom, gazing at the rows of silver ingots and the silvery light shimmering in the candlelight.

The silver light was beautiful, so beautiful that it was impossible to look away.

He suddenly remembered a line from the Book of Documents—

"Heaven and earth are the parents of all things, and human beings are the most intelligent of all things."

He silently repeated the sentence to himself, then shook his head.

people?

What is a human being?

Outside the warehouse, the autumn sun was warm.

The people of Chang'an continued to live peacefully, and no one knew where the silver came from, nor did anyone want to know.

All they knew was that grain prices had fallen again this year, there were more copper coins in the market, and life was much better than in previous years.

This is enough.

Later, the Donghai Circuit Governor's Office submitted a memorial to Chang'an.

The memorial stated: "The mines of Mutsu and Dewa produce approximately 300,000 taels of silver annually, enough to cover half of the expenses for the Eastern Expedition. There are over 37,000 Japanese soldiers working at the mines, with about 2,000 dying each year, which can sustain the operation for 15 years. If the number of Japanese soldiers continues to increase, the operation can last even longer. We should manage this matter with utmost care to replenish the national treasury."

Emperor Taizong of Tang (Li Shimin) read the memorial and pondered for a long time.

Then, he picked up his pen and wrote four characters in his annotation.

"Do as instructed immediately."

That summer, a second batch of 5,000 Japanese prisoners were taken to Dengzhou.

Meanwhile, a terrifying legend began to circulate in the remote mountainous regions of Japan—

"The heavenly soldiers of the Tang Dynasty can breathe fire and strike thunder. Those captured by them will be sent to the other side of the sea to dig mountains until they die. Their mountains will devour people and never spit them out again."

The legend is true.

But what devours people is not the mountain.

In the twelfth year of the Zhenguan era, at the Dengzhou mine.

A young Japanese soldier knelt at the entrance of the mine, gazing at the eastern sea.

His name is Saburo Abe, and he is nineteen years old.

Two years ago, he was the son of an ordinary fisherman on Iki Island.

Now, his father died in the first landslide, his brother died from the epidemic, and he is all alone.

He didn't know how much longer he had to live.

All he knew was that every day at dawn, he had to climb into that dark mine shaft.

Every day at nightfall, he would drag his exhausted body out of bed.

One day, he will die in there too.

Like a father, like a brother.

He gazed at the hazy sea to the east and suddenly remembered a folk song he had heard as a child.

The folk song sings of the sea, the wind, and the cherry blossoms of my hometown.

He hummed softly.

He hummed a few words, when suddenly a foreman's whip lashed out.

"Get to work! What are you daydreaming about!"

He staggered to his feet and stumbled toward the mine shaft.

Behind him, the overseer walked away, grumbling and cursing.

He didn't turn around.

He simply lowered his head and walked step by step into that darkness from which he could never escape.

In the distance, at the other end of the mine, another batch of silver ingots was being packed into boxes, ready to be transported to Chang'an.

The four characters are still cast on the silver ingot—

"Datang Silversmithing"