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

The meeting ended at 9 PM.

Sun San, Wu Langzhong, and Lin Xiuniang did not return to Xishanzhuang. Qian Lai had already arranged their accommodations in the back building, with freshly dried bedding and mugwort.

Each of the three had their own thoughts, but they all slept the most soundly they had in over a month.

Zhu Zhanji returned to the Crown Prince's residence by carriage.

Chun Tao turned on a small lamp in the car. He leaned against the car wall, closed his eyes to rest, but his mind was racing, processing the conversation from that evening:

The site selection, manpower, and raw material channels of Mingyue Workshop; the graded pricing of Zuixian Brew; the medical application expansion of Jingchuanglu; the expansion plan of Hualu; and the bottom line for negotiations with the Shen family.

And how to explain to my father tomorrow the "transfer" of Sun San and the others.

He opened his eyes and said to Chun Tao, "Tomorrow morning, go and invite Uncle Yang. Tell him I want to learn from him how to report to my father."

Chun Tao softly agreed, then asked, "Your Highness, why don't you rest for a while? You've had a long and tiring day."

Zhu Zhanji shook his head: "What's there to be tired about? Tonight is just the beginning."

The horse-drawn carriage rumbled through the quiet streets.

Looking at the young prince's innocent profile, Chun Tao felt a sense of composure in his eyes, making her feel as if the person sitting in the carriage was not a four-year-old child.

But when she looked closely, she could clearly see that familiar, slightly chubby little face.

She sighed quietly and said nothing more.

The carriage entered the back gate of the Crown Prince's residence.

Zhu Zhanji looked up as he got out of the car.

The light in my father's study was still on.

He paused, not immediately returning to his own courtyard, but instead turned and walked towards the study.

Chuntao wanted to stop her, but she held back.

The study door was ajar, letting in a sliver of dim candlelight.

Zhu Zhanji stood outside the door and heard Yang Pu's voice inside:

"Your Highness, I would like to reiterate my point: the workshops at Xishan Manor should no longer be interfered with by the Ministry of Works. Zhao Kang is a rigid man who is obsequious to his superiors but harsh to his subordinates."

The craftsmen, including Sun San, are already exhausted. If we don't make adjustments soon, we risk failing His Highness's initial intention of valuing talent.

Zhu Gaochi remained silent for a moment, then his weary voice came through: "Scholar Yang, what do you suggest we do to make adjustments?"

Just as Yang Pu was about to speak, Zhu Zhanji gently knocked on the door.

"Father, I request an audience."

There was a moment of silence inside.

"Come in."

Zhu Zhanji pushed open the door and entered, bowed respectfully, and then bowed to Yang Pu, saying, "Uncle Yang."

Zhu Gaochi looked at him: "It's so late, aren't you asleep yet?"

"I can't sleep," Zhu Zhanji said, looking up. "I have something to tell my father."

He took a deep breath: "I would like to invite Master Sun, Doctor Wu, and Madam Lin to Mingyue Tower."

Zhu Gaochi frowned slightly.

Yang Pu remained calm and composed, stroking his beard without saying a word.

"It's not about undermining the workshop's foundation," Zhu Zhanji quickly explained.

"Their craftsman status is still valid, and they continue to receive their salaries. However, they are being asked to work in a different place. Lord Zhao is pressuring them too much, and Master Sun hasn't slept for three days."

He lowered his head, his voice softening: "It pains me to see you like this."

Zhu Gaochi remained silent for a long time.

He recalled Yang Pu's words: "The craftsmen, including Sun San, are already exhausted."

He recalled the payment reminder documents that the Ministry of Revenue had sent him during the day.

He remembered that his father was about to arrive in Beijing, and he hadn't even managed to gather enough cotton-padded clothes for Xuanfu Town.

"Scholar Yang," he began, "what are your thoughts?"

Yang Pu slowly said, "Your Highness, what the young prince said is not without reason. Craftsmen like Sun San are skilled in their craft but not good at dealing with people. If they stay in the workshop and deal with books and deadlines all day long, their strengths will be buried."

Since Mingyue Tower is already His Highness's private property, transferring them there to assist in its management is convenient for both public and private reasons.

He continued, "As for the workshops, someone knowledgeable in government affairs can be selected to manage them. I will speak to the Ministry of Works."

Zhu Gaochi remained silent.

He looked at Zhu Zhanji, the son who made him both proud and heartbroken, who was now gazing at him expectantly, like any child waiting for their father's promise.

Other children, however, are waiting for candy or toys.

He was waiting for a small promise that could provide a safe haven for artisans.

"Go," Zhu Gaochi finally spoke, his voice weary but tinged with a hint of relief.

"The people transferred there will retain their artisan status and salary as before. As for the workshops, I will have Scholar Yang select other capable individuals."

He rarely showed a smile: "Don't let your Mingyue Tower poach all my craftsmen."

Zhu Zhanji's eyes lit up, and he nodded vigorously: "Your son will definitely use it sparingly!"

Zhu Gaochi chuckled and waved his hand, "Go on, you still have to study tomorrow."

Zhu Zhanji bowed, turned to leave, but then stopped.

"Father," he turned around, "the soldiers in Xuanfu Town all say highly of the wound-cleansing ointment that Master Sun and his men made. When Grandfather makes his northern tour, could we let them see this medicine for themselves?"

Zhu Gaochi was slightly taken aback.

He never expected that his son wasn't concerned about the reputation of Zuixian Wine or the business of Hualu, but rather whether the border soldiers had actually used the medicine.

"Alright," he said solemnly. "When your grandfather arrives, I will speak to him on your behalf."

Zhu Zhanji smiled, this time a genuine, childlike, radiant smile.

He walked briskly out of the study.

Yang Pu watched his figure disappear into the night and said softly, "Your Highness, the young prince is no ordinary person."

Zhu Gaochi did not respond.

Three days later, there were personnel changes at the Xishanzhuang Crafts Workshop.

Sun San, Wu Mingde, and Lin Xiuniang were transferred, but retained their craftsman status and continued to receive their salaries. They went to "Mingyue Tower to assist with affairs".

The position of Director of the Crafts Workshop was temporarily filled by Zhao Kang, Director of the Department of Works of the Ministry of Works.

On the same day, a small, inconspicuous plaque was hung in a shop next to Mingyue Tower:

Mingyue Workshop

There was no unveiling ceremony, no firecrackers, and not even any public announcement.

Only Sun San, along with two old craftsmen, carried several newly cast distillation stills into the backyard and began testing them;

Only Dr. Wu squatted in the corner, meticulously recording the data from more than a dozen bottles of wound-clearing ointment of different concentrations.

Only Lin Xiuniang sat by the window, carefully soaking the first batch of dried jasmine flowers into the final wine by the light of day.

Qian Lai hung the inscription "Clear Spring and Flowing Fire" on the main wall in the front hall, stepped back two steps to examine it for a moment, and nodded in satisfaction.

Everything is as usual, yet everything is different.

Seven more days passed.

A fast horseman galloped into Beijing from the south gate, with a bright yellow flag on his back, heading straight for the Crown Prince's residence.

"Report! His Majesty's imperial entourage has passed Baoding Prefecture and will arrive in the capital in three days!"

The news spread like wildfire, reaching the entire city in an instant.

Countless people in the Crown Prince's residence, the imperial palace, the six ministries, and various garrisons began to busy themselves.

Zhu Zhanji stood in his courtyard, listening to the faint voices in the distance, and looked up at the sky.

The autumn sky was clear and cloudless.

"Chuntao," he said softly.

"This servant is here."

"Have you kept the blueprints for the improved grain transport vehicle?"

"Put it away carefully, Your Highness," Chun Tao whispered. "Also, put it in the brocade box along with those few pages of notes on road construction methods."

Zhu Zhanji nodded.

"Three more days," he said.

Three days later, the person he was waiting for would arrive.

On the 16th day of the ninth month of the third year of the Yongle reign, the emperor's entourage arrived in Beijing.

On this day, the streets of Beijing were deserted as everyone flocked to the city.

From Deshengmen to the old Prince Yan's Mansion, the ten-mile-long street was sprinkled with clean water and paved with yellow earth.

Three thousand elite soldiers of the Beijing Garrison stood in formation along the street, their swords and spears gleaming coldly in the autumn sun.

Zhu Gaochi led the civil and military officials who remained in charge, as well as members of the imperial family and nobles, to kneel and welcome him outside Desheng Gate.

At the exact hour of Chen (7-9 AM), the bugle sounded its long horn.

The emperor's ceremonial guard, in bright yellow, appeared on the horizon.

The nine-dragon curved canopy moved slowly, and thirty-six chestnut-red imperial horses pulled the palanquin forward steadily, the sound of their hooves thundering in unison.

The imperial carriage stopped in front of Desheng Gate.

Ma Bin, a eunuch from the Directorate of Ceremonial, bowed and lifted the curtain. Zhu Di, dressed in a bright yellow dragon robe, slowly stepped down from the imperial palanquin.

Zhu Gaochi prostrated himself on the ground: "Your son respectfully welcomes Your Majesty."

Zhu Di looked down at his eldest son.

Zhu Gaochi, dressed in court robes, knelt on the slightly cool stone slab in the autumn sun. His body was thinner than when he left the capital at the beginning of the year, and his shoulder blades were faintly visible through the fabric.

"Get up." Zhu Di reached out and personally helped his eldest son up, looking him over from head to toe. "You've lost weight."

Zhu Gaochi's eyes welled up slightly: "Your subject is incompetent, causing Your Majesty to worry."

"How can someone who has managed to safeguard this vast northern frontier and resolve all the issues surrounding the relocation of the capital be considered incompetent?"

Zhu Di rarely showed a smile, and patted his eldest son's hand, "Eldest son, you did a great job."

Zhu Gaochi had been waiting for this sentence for more than half a year.

His Adam's apple bobbed, and he kowtowed heavily: "Your subject thanks Your Majesty."

Zhu Di said nothing more, turned to the assembled officials and raised his hand: "All of you, rise."

"Thank you, Your Majesty!"

Amidst the cheers, Zhu Di's gaze swept past the crowd and paused at the edge of the line.

There, Zhang Shi led a small figure, standing respectfully behind the officials of the Crown Prince's residence.

Zhu Zhanji, dressed in a brand-new crimson robe, wearing a small crown and a jade belt, looked like a delicate, exquisitely beautiful man. He was looking up at them with curiosity.

Zhu Di and his grandson made eye contact across the distance.

The child immediately lowered his eyes, bowed properly, and his movements were so standard that there was nothing wrong with them.

Zhu Di withdrew his gaze and, surrounded by his ministers, entered the former Prince Yan's residence.

They walked in the main hall.

Civil and military officials of the fifth rank and above entered their seats in order, and the hall was completely silent.

Zhu Di sat upright on his throne, his gaze sharp as an eagle, slowly sweeping across the hall.