The Revolt of the Three Feudatories: All-in at the start in Beijing

"Your Majesty, the muscles in your back are very stiff. You must have been sitting on the folding paper for too long." Nakamori Akina spoke Chinese fairly well, with a soft tone and a nasal quality characteristic of Japanese women.

It was personally ordered by Tokugawa Ietsuna, so his subordinates dared not deceive him and were all selected as top-notch. Nakamori Akina was a descendant of Kato who had already been expelled from the party, so she naturally knew a little Chinese.

The other nine dancers—that shameless Ouyang Jing—went to the palace the next day and blocked the entrance, demanding two from each of them.

He wasn't trying to emulate Xiao He's self-degradation; he was simply a womanizer. However, Liu Mu quite liked this kind of minister, as long as he didn't form cliques.

This vassal state has plenty of women to offer as tribute. Ever since learning that the Han Dynasty had sent troops, the Portuguese prince once considered offering his mistress as tribute.

Liu Mu hummed in response but did not reply. His trip to Xishan was ostensibly for summer retreat, but in reality, he was going to visit his private territory there. Besides the mines and miners, there was also the research center he had secretly built over the years since he ascended the throne. To the outside world, it was only called the Xishan Mining Supervision Office, but in reality, it was doing the work that the Ordnance Bureau couldn't do.

"What is Your Majesty thinking about?" Akina Nakamori moved her hand from her waist to her shoulder blade, her grip becoming lighter.

"I'm thinking of a few things to take care of once we get there." Liu Mu turned his face from the soft couch, revealing one eye as he looked at her. "You have a good grip. Who taught you that?"

"Shimahara's mother taught me. She said a man's waist is the most important thing, and if you learn this skill, you'll never starve, no matter where you go." Nakamori Akina lowered her head and smiled.

Liu Mu chuckled and buried his face back into the soft couch. Outside the palace, the outline of the Western Hills had already appeared at the end of the official road, and several rows of gray rooftops could be vaguely seen on the mountainside—that was the location of the research center.

Before Liu Mu even entered the research institute, he heard the sound of a waterfall crashing down, which had already drowned out the sound of the wind chimes.

This research center is hidden in a canyon deep in the western mountains. The west side is all steep mountain walls, and from the outside, you can only see a dense forest. Even the road into the valley is a modified version of a dried-up riverbed, and you can't figure out the fork in the road without walking it three times.

More than a dozen mountain springs were diverted from upstream to form a waterfall, which cascaded down from a cliff several dozen feet high. Below the waterfall, three large waterwheels were installed side by side. The meshing of the gears was coated with grease, which drove a whole set of transmission shafts and connecting rods, enabling a forging hammer weighing tens of thousands of kilograms to keep hammering up and down.

However, this force is too great and is generally not used for workpieces. Usually, only one-third of the water gate is opened, and the remaining water power is distributed to several other workshops. The heavy forging hammer used for fine iron forging is mainly used for forging parts.

"Your subject Ouyang Jing pays his respects to Your Majesty." Just then, Ouyang Jing, dressed in coarse linen work clothes, ran out of the workshop, his face still covered in black ash, and wearing a pair of reading glasses with glass plates clipped to a copper wire frame on his nose.

Ouyang Jing's earnest demeanor was one of the reasons Liu Mu valued him so highly; from the beginning to the end of the year, he was showered with all sorts of treasures and beautiful women as a reward.

Liu Mu stepped forward, pulled him up, and walked into the workshop. "Ouyang Jing, where's the steam engine you mentioned?"

"Your Majesty, this way." Ouyang Jing led the way, pushing open a heavy wooden door. Behind the door was a separate workshop, with beams twice as high as those in ordinary workshops, and a skylight in the roof, allowing sunlight to stream in.

In the center of the workshop stood an iron contraption, smaller than a horse-drawn carriage, entirely iron-gray, with rivets arranged neatly. On its base was a horizontally placed cylinder, with a row of connecting rods and cranks attached to the rear of the cylinder, and two large wheels covered with sheet metal attached to the end of the cranks.

Several old craftsmen were squatting beside the ironwork, riveting a bronze plaque with an inscription onto the front of the vehicle. The plaque read "First Vehicle of the Western Hill Research Institute of the Ministry of Works of the Great Han Dynasty".

Liu Mu circled the iron contraption twice, then patted the cylinder; the metal walls were still slightly warm from the polishing. "It can run even when the water's boiled?"

"It can run." Ouyang Jing looked at Liu Mu's face through his reading glasses, then added guiltily, "It just can't run fast. The boiler isn't sealed tightly enough right now, so the steam pressure can't go up. It can only run for half an hour at most before we have to stop and add water. But I and the craftsmen have already tried casting a new type of sealing ring, and the next vehicle should be able to run for twice as long."

"Rename it a steam locomotive, change the name." Liu Mu stopped in front of the row of rivets, examined them carefully. The rivet heads were all polished to a perfect roundness; he could tell they were made of refined iron without even touching them. He straightened up and patted Ouyang Jing on the shoulder. "If it can run for half an hour, it can run. In the future, it will be able to run for a whole day. Give it your all, and when I come back this time next year, I want to see it running on the West Mountain official road, not just sitting in this workshop."

Ouyang Jing, always upright in his conduct, immediately assured him, "Your Majesty, rest assured, next year when you come to Xishan, you won't need to ride in a sedan chair!"

……

When Liu Mu came out of the steam locomotive workshop, the mist in the canyon was dispersed by the afternoon mountain breeze. He did not return to the palace, but walked east along the canyon towards the iron mine, with Ouyang Jing following beside him.

As they walked outwards, they soon reached the outermost edge of the canyon, the perimeter of the research institute. This area was right next to the Xishan Iron Mine. A three-person-high iron fence stretched between the two mountain walls, and a hundred guards stood outside the fence, each wearing an iron helmet, carrying a flintlock pistol, and with three large melon-shaped hand grenades hanging from their waists.

Upon seeing Liu Mu approach, the guards immediately snapped to attention, their right fists clenched and pounded against their left chests.

Liu Mu nodded, and Ouyang Jing stepped forward and pushed open the iron fence. Behind the fence was a row of whitewashed bungalows with the doors and windows tightly closed, leaving only a few small ventilation openings. There was not a single word on the door.

Pushing open the door, you see that the walls inside are covered with a layer of fine white cotton cloth. From floor to ceiling, not an inch of brick is exposed. The cotton cloth was boiled by the Imperial Medical Academy before being applied, and someone is specifically assigned to sprinkle water on it daily to maintain its condition. If you smell it closely, you can even detect a faint smell of vinegar in the air.

In the middle of the open space, a dozen or so men sat upright, their heads held high. They were all wearing white undershirts, and their arms or legs were wrapped in bandages, some of which were oozing a pale yellow liquid.

These were soldiers who had been wounded and forced to retreat during the attack on Japan in the southwestern battlefield. Some had their bones broken by shrapnel, while others had large areas of their flesh burned by gunpowder.

When they were rushed here, most of their wounds were already festering and rotting. Based on past experience, at this stage of festering, the only options were amputation or waiting to die. But none of them were missing an arm or a leg; they were all sitting here perfectly fine.