Song Dynasty: Yuan Dynasty, you didn't expect this, did you? I'm still alive.

The ninth year of Cheng'an (1407).

Gewu Academy.

The genius Taoist priest Pan Kexin mixed nitrocellulose, which is derived from cellulose, with plasticizers such as camphor to obtain a special substance.

This method makes originally brittle materials flexible and malleable. When heated, they can be shaped like metal and retain their shape when cooled, thus possessing the characteristics of thermoplasticity. They can be used to make exquisite items such as combs, pens, and buttons.

Pan Kexin refers to it as "Pan Kexin".

This marked the birth of the plastics industry in the Eastern Song Dynasty.

Of course, the complex production process of this type of plastic results in high product prices and a lack of market competitiveness. At the same time, the material itself is brittle, prone to cracking, and has the fatal flaw of being highly flammable, making it unsuitable for commercialization.

However, it proved that entirely new, malleable materials can be created by chemical means starting from natural polymer materials (cellulose).

Later film materials were improved from Panxen.

Pan Kexin may not have been a commercial winner, but as a pioneer, he ushered in a new era of materials.

His invention of "Panksine" was like a spark that ignited the subsequent massive plastics industrial revolution.

Steel could no longer meet the Song people's needs for materials.

. . .

When Zhu Di received the news of the rejection, he was watching his sons practice archery in the Imperial Garden.

Ji Gang delivered it personally.

He knelt on the ground, presented the official letter from Xinxiang with both hands, then took three steps back, lowered his head, and remained motionless.

Having followed Zhu Di for so many years, he knew when to speak and when to become a pillar of support.

Zhu Di unfolded the official letter.

The content was so short that he suspected Zhao Xi hadn't even bothered to carefully consider the wording.

The gist is: The matter of setting up a factory is of great importance and will be discussed later.

We'll discuss this later.

He slammed the letter shut.

"Okay," he said.

The bow in Zhu Gaochi's hand stopped in mid-air.

Zhu Gaoxu's arrow missed the target, but no one noticed.

The entire Imperial Garden was as quiet as a well; even the birds in the trees had stopped chirping.

When Zhu Di said "good," it often meant "bad." Very bad.

"Father—" Zhu Gaochi put down the bow.

"I say, good." Zhu Di tossed the official letter to Ji Gang. "The Emperor of the Great Song Dynasty is too busy with affairs of state to set up a factory here with me. I understand. I understand perfectly."

"Pass on the decree," he said.

Zhu Gaochi's Adam's apple bobbed.

"All Song merchants within the territory of the Great Ming Dynasty, effective immediately—"

"Father!" Zhu Gaochi knelt down with a thud.

The movement was so swift that Zhu Gaoxu's second arrow almost hit him in the buttocks.

Zhu Di turned around and looked down at his eldest son.

Zhu Gaochi was fat, and when he knelt down, the ground made a dull thud, like a bag of rice falling to the ground.

"Father, the Song Dynasty has strong ships and powerful cannons; we must avoid their sharp edge."

Zhu Di stared at him for three seconds.

Should I avoid his sharp edge?

Zhu Gaochi didn't speak, but his eyes said it all: Yes, you should avoid his sharp edge. Grandpa avoided it before, so it's not shameful for you to do it again.

Zhu Di understood that look in his eyes.

His lips twitched, and then a lump formed in his throat.

I'm so angry, I really want to find someone to calm me down.

He, the Yongle Emperor, the Ming Dynasty emperor who succeeded to the throne, was first forced to become the younger brother by an envoy from the Song Dynasty with an iron ship, and later tried to steal someone else's machinery.

You can't steal it, and you can't get it by asking.

Where does he put his pride?

Zhu Di's gaze swept around the Imperial Garden.

Zhu Gaochi knelt, Zhu Gaoxu's arrow was still on the bowstring and he forgot to release it, and several eunuchs huddled in the corner, wishing they could plant themselves in flowerpots.

Finally, his gaze fell on Shen Lian behind Ji Gang.

Shen Lian stood three steps behind Ji Gang, without moving an inch from beginning to end.

This is a basic skill of a commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard: to stand as still as a stone when the emperor is in a bad mood.

But when Zhu Di looked at him, his eyelids twitched.

Zhu Di remembered.

"Ji Gang"

"Your subject is here."

"Is there a case in Songjiang Prefecture?"

Ji Gang's mind was working very fast.

Songjiang Prefecture, Song Dynasty merchants, smashing shops, collusion between officials and merchants—he strung these words together in less than a breath.

"Yes. Last year, some officials in Songjiang Prefecture accepted bribes from Song merchants and used them to suppress local cloth merchants. I have received intelligence about this."

Who reported it?

"A silk merchant named Qian. He had a distant relative who worked in the Embroidered Uniform Guard."

Zhu Di nodded. The gesture was subtle, but Ji Gang knew it meant someone was about to suffer.

"Investigate," Zhu Di said. "I want to see who are acting as dogs for the Song people. If we can't control the Song people, can't we control them?"

He said that last sentence with unusual ease.

Like a child who has been bullied by the neighbor's kid, who goes home and kicks his own disobedient dog—finally, he manages to kick it.

Shen Lian set off overnight.

It takes two days by fast horse from Yingtian Prefecture to Songjiang Prefecture.

He brought thirty men with him, all of whom were experienced.

He's been doing this process of raiding homes, arresting people, and interrogating them for over a decade; he could do it with his eyes closed.

He had already made up his mind—those officials in Songjiang Prefecture, though of low rank, must be making a lot of money off them.

He left in such a hurry that he didn't even bring enough spare clothes.

After two days of jolting on horseback, his backside was blistered. He cursed the terrible roads in Songjiang Prefecture while calculating how much he would get this time.

With a prefect, two assistant prefects, and a few clerks running errands, they could easily confiscate at least ten thousand taels of silver.

Thirty percent is three thousand taels.

That's enough for him to buy another house in Yingtian Prefecture.

Two days later, he stood at the entrance of the Songjiang Prefectural Government Office and found it empty.

It's not a description. It's a vacuum.

The case files in the main hall were neatly stacked, the tea in the teacups was still warm, and the bedding on the bed in the back hall was folded into a square.

The prefect is gone, the assistant prefect is gone, and even the two stone lions at the gate are still there.

But the person in charge of the stone lions has disappeared.

Shen Lian stood in the main hall for a moment, then turned to an old clerk who was left behind.

Where are they?

The old clerk's legs were trembling, but his voice remained steady: "Reporting to Your Excellency, I'm leaving."

"Where did you go?"

"The dock. It left yesterday afternoon. A Song Dynasty merchant ship."

Shen Lian closed his eyes briefly.

"Why didn't you stop them yesterday afternoon?"

The old clerk looked up at Shen Lian with a "Are you kidding me?" look in his eyes: "Sir, I am just a clerk. My monthly salary is one shi of rice. Stopping the prefect? ​​And stopping Song merchant ships?"

Shen Lian didn't ask any more questions. He turned and walked out of the yamen, mounted his horse, and led thirty men straight to the dock.

The wind was strong on the dock. The sea was empty, with only a few seagulls circling atop the masts. There wasn't a single merchant ship from the Eastern Song Dynasty in sight. Shen Lian stood on the dock, the sea breeze making his clothes flutter loudly.

There were thirty people behind him, and none of them dared to utter a sound.

Shen Lian took a deep breath, inhaling the sea breeze into his lungs, and then exhaled.

"Seize their property," he said.

You can run away from the monk, but you can't run away from the temple.

Thirty Imperial Guards were busy in Songjiang Prefecture for three days.

The residences of the prefect, the assistant prefect, and several minor officials were searched one by one.

But he soon discovered the problem.

There is no money.

The residences of several officials were searched thoroughly, but only a few dozen taels of loose silver and a few strings of copper coins were found.

Shen Lian squatted in front of an empty box, which was lined with a piece of silk cloth with several circular creases on it.

Those were from pressing silver ingots. The box had been filled to the brim with silver, leaving deep indentations. But the silver is gone.

He picked up the piece of silk and turned it over.

A line of small characters was printed on the corner of the silk cloth: Imperial Bank of the Great Song Dynasty.

Good heavens, so they actually accepted silver from the Song people.

No, it was the silver that was given to the Song people and exchanged for banknotes.

These traitors!

But then again, he also wanted the Song people's silver notes.

There was nothing that could be done; the Ming Dynasty's paper money was depreciating too rapidly.

Outside the door, thirty Imperial Guards were waiting for him. He took the piece of silk from his pocket and threw it to the first subordinate.

"Go back and report."

Meanwhile, the Eastern Song merchant ship was sailing into Luzon Port.

The morning light rises from the sea in Manila, bathing the entire city in a pale gold hue.

At the cement dock, cranes have already started working, their iron arms rising and falling, and cargo drawing arcs in the air.

The distant high-rises are faintly visible in the morning mist, and the sunlight reflects off the glass windows, making the whole city seem to be on fire.

The former prefect of Songjiang Prefecture stood motionless on the side of the ship, gazing at the city.

His surname is Wang, and his given name is Jian.

He served as an official in the Ming Dynasty for twelve years, rising from county magistrate to prefect.

In Songjiang Prefecture, he accepted money from Su Jing, settled matters for Su Jing, and dealt with the cloth merchants for Su Jing.

The money he saved over twelve years in the Ming Dynasty was less than the amount he received as dividends from Su Jing in a single year.

Looking back now, I realize how short-sighted I was in hoarding land.

You can't make much money from land; you have to rely on businessmen!

Wang Jian didn't know when he started to believe in the Song Dynasty.

Perhaps it was when I first received the Song Dynasty silver notes.

The paper was thin, printed with Zhao Xi's profile and a steam locomotive. It felt light in your hand, but if you handed it to a Song person, you could exchange it for a lot of silver.

It's a hundred times better than the Ming Dynasty's official paper money.

Perhaps it was when he discovered that the Song Dynasty silver notes wouldn't depreciate. The Ming Dynasty's paper money could buy one shi (a unit of dry measure) of rice this year, only eight dou (another unit of dry measure) next year, and only five dou the year after. The Song Dynasty silver notes, on the other hand, could buy one shi of rice last year, one shi of rice this year, and next year—he believed—one shi of rice would still be available.

The ship has docked.

The moment Wang Jian stepped onto the Manila pier, he took a deep breath.

The air in Manila has a different smell.

"The air in the Song Dynasty is so sweet."

He stood on the dock and took another deep breath.

For some reason, after taking that inhale, he felt a sense of euphoria and his whole body relaxed considerably.

I hadn't realized it before because I'd been in the Ming Dynasty for so long, but now I know how much he had suppressed back then.