The Young Dragon of the Ming Dynasty: Bound to an Industrial Blueprint from the Start

"The loss of grain transported by the canal has increased by another 50%. If this continues, only 70% of the grain will reach the Tongzhou granary," said Li Qing, his voice filled with anxiety.

"The river is silted up, making it difficult for cargo ships to navigate; there's nothing we can do about it," Chen Gui explained.

"No way? If there's no way, then we'll find a way!" Zhu Gaochi's voice became unusually stern.

"The northern expeditionary army numbers tens of thousands. How much food do they consume every day? Have you calculated it? If the canal transport also encounters problems, what will supply the army?"

There was a moment of silence inside.

Yang Pu’s voice rang out, calm yet powerful: “Your Highness, please calm down. What Chief Clerk Li and Vice Minister Chen said makes sense. In my opinion, the most urgent task is to take a two-pronged approach: first, dredge the key sections of the river to improve the efficiency of the canal boats; second, reduce losses during transportation.”

"How can we reduce it?" Li Qing asked.

"Improve packaging, strengthen supervision, and severely punish corruption," Yang Pu replied.

"Everyone understands the principle, the question is how to put it into practice?"

"..."

They discussed it inside for a while longer, and the arguments continued.

After a while, the back door opened, and Yang Pu and the other two filed out, each with a solemn expression.

Zhu Zhanji quickly lowered his head, pretending to be engrossed in his reading.

At three quarters past the hour of You (5:45 PM), dusk was gradually falling.

In the darkness of night, Lin Xiuniang carried a wooden bucket to the stream outside the cave in the back mountain to wash the distillation equipment.

This was a task assigned by Sun San: the copper pipes and earthenware jars had to be thoroughly cleaned after each use, leaving no trace of wine, so as not to affect the quality of the next batch of wine.

The stream was clear and cold, reflecting the crescent moon in the sky.

Lin Xiuniang squatted on the bluestone, carefully wiping the inner wall of the condenser copper pipe.

A strange smell suddenly wafted into my nose; it wasn't the strong aroma of alcohol, but rather a delicate floral fragrance.

She paused, then looked down at the copper pipe in her hand.

A few drops of clear liquid clung to the tube wall, reflecting slightly in the moonlight.

This is the "tail liquor" collected in the final stage of distillation today. It has a very weak flavor, and Master Sun said it was useless and was supposed to be thrown away.

But at this moment, the liquid emitted a faint fragrance of osmanthus.

Lin Xiuniang's heart stirred.

She remembered that when she helped move tools during the day, she had rested under the old osmanthus tree at the entrance of the cave. A few late-blooming osmanthus flowers had fallen into the open pottery jar. Could it be...?

She carefully poured the remaining liquid from the copper tube into a clean small ceramic bowl and brought it to her nose to smell it.

That's right!

"This," Lin Xiuniang was stunned.

She was no ordinary peasant woman. Her family had been in the spice business in Jiangnan for generations. Although the family had fallen on hard times, she had learned to identify and blend fragrances from her mother when she was young and had a natural sensitivity to scents.

After getting married, these skills became useless and gradually faded into the depths of her memory.

But now, this familiar scent, this déjà vu feeling of "locked-in fragrance".

She suddenly remembered what her mother had said: "Xiuer, the essence of fragrance lies in 'carrying' it. Flower dew dissipates easily, so it needs to be carried by something rich and mellow in order to last. The ancient method involves soaking flowers in aged wine lees, and it takes three months to get a bottle of 'fragrant tincture,' which is as valuable as gold and jade."

Wine, carrying fragrance!

Lin Xiuniang suddenly stood up and looked in the direction of the cave.

The cave was brightly lit, and Master Sun and his colleagues were still busy.

She recalled the "tail wines" she had seen stored separately these past few days; they were bland and tasteless, and Master Sun was worried about what to do with them.

An idea began to grow wildly in her mind.

Carrying the bowl of liquid with the fragrance of osmanthus, she walked quickly back to her residence in the village, a simple but tidy mud-brick house.

Tiger was already asleep, his little face flushed.

Lin Xiuniang dragged an old wooden box from under the bed, opened it, and inside were several small cloth bags.

Those were the last things she brought from Jiangnan: dried jasmine, osmanthus, roses, and a small bag of precious sandalwood shavings.

She took a few dried jasmine flowers, put them in another clean small bowl, and then carefully poured in some of the untainted "tail wine" she had collected that day.

Soak and wait.

Half an hour later, she approached the bowl.

A delicate jasmine fragrance, mixed with the unique, warm aroma of the tail liquor, reminiscent of steamed grains, slowly spreads out.

The fragrance is several times stronger and longer-lasting than when flowers are steeped in hot water.

Lin Xiuniang's hands trembled slightly.

She recalled the "first wine" that Master Sun used to treat Hu Zi's injuries today, the clear "Drunken Immortal Brew," and the words "make the most of everything" that the young prince had sent to her.

The first drink can heal wounds, the middle drink can be enjoyed at banquets, so does the last drink, which carries fragrance, have to be thrown away?

"No," she murmured to herself, a long-lost light rekindling in her eyes, "This is a treasure, a treasure that reminds one of springtime in Jiangnan, of old dreams in one's boudoir."

She carefully hid the bowl, already having made up her mind.

Tomorrow, she's going to see Master Sun.

The following evening, two red lanterns in front of Mingyue Tower lit up and swayed gently in the spring breeze.

The building was unusually quiet, with only faint voices coming from the tasting room in the backyard.

Qian Lai had specially changed into a light blue robe and a square scarf on his head. He stood at the entrance of the tasting room with a perfectly appropriate smile on his face.

In front of him was a long sandalwood table with five thin-walled jade cups lined up in a row. Next to each cup was a small dish of exquisite tea snacks: osmanthus cake, almond shortbread, and jujube paste rolls, all from the most famous restaurant in Beiping, "Ruifuzhai".

The five invited guests arrived one after another.

The first to arrive was Xu Huaiyuan, a retired scholar.

The old man was over sixty years old, with white hair and beard, but he was in good spirits. He wore a slightly worn blue cloth robe and walked with a steady gait.

Qian Lai went up to greet him, bowing respectfully as a disciple: "Master Xu's presence is an honor to our humble abode."

Xu Huaiyuan nodded slightly, his gaze sweeping over the room's furnishings. He lingered for a moment on the "ancient painting" on the wall, his lips twitching almost imperceptibly, but he said nothing.

Next came two young intellectuals, Li Wenchang and Zhang Ziqian.

Both men were in their early twenties, dressed in pale white robes, and possessed elegant manners. As soon as they entered, they spoke in hushed tones: "I've heard that this 'Drunken Immortal's Brew' was passed down by a hermit from Zhongnan Mountain?"

"If it is truly as miraculous as the rumors say, then I shall compose a poem in its honor."

Then there was Zhu Zai, a member of the imperial clan.

He was in his early thirties, slightly overweight, wearing a royal blue silk robe with cloud patterns. As he entered, his nose twitched first: "Smells wonderful! What is this fragrance? Ambergris? Doesn't seem like it."

The last person to arrive was a middle-aged man around forty years old with fair skin. He introduced himself as "Manager Shen." He didn't talk much, but his eyes were very sharp. Before entering, he looked Mingyue Tower up and down.

"It is my great honor to have distinguished guests present!"

After everyone was seated, Qian Lai slowly walked to the table and began his carefully prepared "performance".

He didn't rush to pour the wine, but instead began to tell a story.

"Legend has it that there was an old Taoist priest with white hair and a youthful face in Zhongnan Mountain who received this ancient prescription from an immortal in a dream."

It requires deep spring water from the Western Hills, which is clear, sweet, and pure; it is distilled nine times over a slow fire using a specially made "Nine-Turn Cloud Pattern Steamer"; each time, only the middle three-tenths of the "Fairy Dew Heart" is taken, removing the spiciness of the beginning and discarding the blandness of the end...

His voice wasn't loud, but it was melodious and rhythmic, and with his gestures, he really had the flair of a storyteller.

Zhu Zai listened intently, then couldn't help but ask, "Is this wine truly capable of intoxicating even immortals?"