Late Ming Dynasty: From the Defeated Soldiers at Daling River to Ascending the Throne

Chen Feng took Aji for a walk around Longfu Temple.

Because he was waiting for Deng Liangfu's reply, he dared not go out and could only wander around the temple to pass the time.

But after walking around, he discovered that Longfu Temple was not as simple as he thought.

He encountered no fewer than fifty lamas in the temple, each one vigorous and energetic, their movements showing signs of military formation training.

What bothered him even more was that all these lamas were carrying sticks or knives.

Some of the lamas even had bulging quivers around their waists, seemingly carrying pistols.

He deliberately went around to the back hall, but was blocked by two lamas guarding the gate.

The two lamas were clearly holding flintlock muskets.

He peered through the doorway and saw several lamas practicing martial arts in the backyard, seemingly using military tactics.

Chen Feng nodded apologetically to the lama guarding the door, then turned and walked back to the front yard.

This is no temple; it's clearly a small military outpost.

These lamas are well-trained and are all monk soldiers raised by Longfu Temple.

Chen Feng pondered as he walked; there was more to it than met the eye.

He led Aji to the guest hall and found the monk who had received them.

The guest monk was a lama in his forties, plump and fair-skinned, with a professional smile on his face. Upon seeing Chen Feng, he bowed respectfully and said, "Benefactor Chen, what can I do for you?"

Chen Feng smiled and, mimicking the gesture of a Buddhist monk, bowed respectfully. "Master, I see that your temple has quite a few young and strong monks, and they are carrying weapons. This is..."

The monk's smile faltered for a moment before returning to normal. "Those are the temple's guard monks, responsible for protecting the temple's treasures."

"collection?"

"Yes." The monk in charge of receiving guests spoke in a calm and unhurried tone. "Longfu Temple has been built for over a hundred years and houses many precious scriptures and ritual implements. Because we were afraid that some scoundrels might covet them, we simply set up guards."

Chen Feng looked at him with an expression that said, "Are you kidding me?"

The monk also looked at Chen Feng with an extremely sincere smile.

That look, that tone, and that air of absolute certainty—it's exactly like Zhang Lan's.

But then he thought about it again and understood.

During the Jisi Incident, the Tartars entered Beizhili and burned, killed, and looted, causing panic in the capital. It was understandable that temples would add guards to protect themselves.

But what concerned him was the origin of those firearms.

"Master," he asked casually, "I noticed the guards are using self-propelled flintlock pistols? Those things must be difficult to make."

The guest monk's smile froze for a moment. "This... I'm not quite sure either; it was all arranged by the temple elders..."

Chen Feng smiled and shook hands with the guest monk, clutching a silver ingot in his hand. "Master, you flatter me. There are things in this temple that you are unaware of."

The monk, having sensed the silver in his hand, glanced at Chen Feng, and his smile brightened.

"You flatter me, Benefactor Chen." He discreetly tucked the silver into his sleeve and lowered his voice, saying, "That's just junk discarded by Wang Gongchang; it's just for show."

Wang Gongchang.

Chen Feng knew that place was similar to the military factories of the Ming Dynasty, and was under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Works.

But why does this lama say it's just a bluff?

A flintlock musket should be more effective than a matchlock musket.

But then he suddenly remembered that the Ming Dynasty did not seem to have widely deployed more advanced flintlock muskets, mainly because the firing rate was too low.

However, flintlock muskets are a trend, so we still need to get some and study them.

Chen Feng then asked with a smile, "Can you just sell Wang Gongchang's products like that?"

The monk looked around and lowered his voice even further: "Of course not. All we can buy are these outdated junk items. The officials in the court..."

Halfway through his speech, the monk realized he had said too much and stopped.

Chen Feng's heart stirred, and he wanted to continue handing over silver.

But the monk who was in charge of receiving guests did not accept the invitation. Instead, he took a step back, and the smile on his face returned to its professional distance. "Benefactor Chen, if you have nothing else to attend to, this humble monk will go back to my business."

After saying that, he turned and left, walking much faster than usual.

Chen Feng watched his retreating figure, but didn't chase after him or ask any more questions.

Although I didn't find out the specifics, I did have some clues.

........................

Not long after, Hao Dadao and Zhao Sheng returned with their men.

Chen Feng had assumed they would be carrying a lot of things, but when he looked, he saw that they were only carrying some odds and ends.

Hao Dadao, looking utterly dejected, cursed as he entered, "Damn it! Prices in the capital are outrageously high!"

Chen Feng looked puzzled. "What's wrong?"

Hao Dadao plopped down on a stool and began to complain, "I just wanted to buy some wine, but after asking around at several shops, all the bean wine costs fifty coins a pound!"

Old Pu Tou shook his head and sighed, "Tobacco leaves are expensive too. The cheapest ones cost one qian of silver per jin. In Shanhaiwei, one qian of silver can buy the best quality ones."

Sun Ergou chimed in from the side, "Even sesame seed cakes are expensive! Ten coins each, and they're not even big!"

Xie Liu stood aside and said, "Living in the capital is not easy; it has always been so."

Chen Feng listened without responding.

He pulled Zhao Sheng and Hao Dadao aside and asked in a low voice, "Didn't you bring silver notes? Why aren't you using them?"

Hao Dadao waved his hand dismissively, "Don't even mention it! They simply won't accept it!"

Chen Feng frowned.

Zhao Sheng explained, "My lord, the banknotes we used back then were issued by banks in Zhangjiakou. I don't know if they have branches in the capital. Even if they do, exchanging them would be troublesome. The shops wouldn't accept them as soon as they saw they were from Zhangjiakou."

Chen Feng fell silent. He had always thought that these banknotes could be used as money, just like in TV dramas. It seemed that he had been too naive.

He suddenly remembered the scholar; the scholar had been gone for over an hour and hadn't returned yet.

........................

Meanwhile, in Xuan Nan Fang.

On the edge of the mule and horse market, Meng Changgeng walked into a dimly lit alley and stood in front of an inconspicuous shop.

The signboard was small, with three characters written on it: Yong Sheng Qing.

He asked around for over an hour, his legs were almost giving out, and finally he found the place.

He sighed deeply, lifted the curtain, and went inside.

The shop was dark, with no windows, and only an oil lamp lit on the counter.

Behind the counter sat a shopkeeper, about fifty years old, with a thin, long face and squinting eyes.

Behind him stood two burly men, tall and expressionless.

Meng Changgeng looked around after entering the room, but no servant greeted him.

The shopkeeper looked up and saw someone enter. He wasn't enthusiastic at all. He looked the person up and down, his scrutinizing gaze undisguised.

The bank manager slowly spoke, "What brings this manager to our office?"

Meng Changgeng steadied himself and walked to the counter. "Of course, I come to the bank to exchange money."

The shopkeeper held out his hand. "Do you have our company's membership card?"

Meng Changgeng took out two thousand taels of silver notes from his pocket and handed them over.

The shopkeeper took the silver note and carefully examined the markings and patterns under the lamp.

After watching for a while, he looked up at Meng Changgeng and slowly asked, "Where did these tickets come from?"

Meng Changgeng sensed something was off about the shopkeeper's tone, his heart tightened, and he tried his best to keep his voice steady: "I got it from doing business outside the Great Wall."

"What kind of business do you do?"

Meng Changgeng's mind raced. He remembered Liang Siye's background and realized that Yongshengqing might be a property of the Liang family. He was like a lamb entering a tiger's den.

He steadied himself and put on a stern face. "This is the master's business, it has nothing to do with us servants. Besides, what business does a money exchange have to do with people?"

Upon hearing this, the shopkeeper suddenly smiled.

The smile came abruptly, and in the dimly lit room, it seemed somewhat eerie.

"The manager is right," the bank manager said with a smile. "How much do you want to exchange?"

Meng Changgeng pointed to the silver notes and said, "Exchange them all."

The shopkeeper nodded and began to use the abacus. "Two thousand taels, according to the rules, we'll charge a 0.3% interest."

Meng Changgeng remained silent.

The shopkeeper then asked, "Silver or gold?"

Meng Changgeng thought for a moment, "I'll exchange it for gold. Silver is too heavy for me to carry."

The shopkeeper smiled again, "If you want to exchange it for gold, the interest will have to be increased by three percent."

Meng Changgeng nodded.

The shopkeeper turned around and used the key he had on him to open a box behind the counter.

It was filled with gold bars, neatly stacked.

He took out the gold bars and weighed them one by one on the scale. "Four hundred taels of gold, equivalent to two thousand taels of silver. After deducting six percent interest, the actual amount paid is three hundred and eighty-four taels."

He cut off the excess gold bars, put them into a box, and pushed it in front of Meng Changgeng. "Shopkeeper, would you like to count some?"

Meng Changgeng didn't reply, but took the box, held it in his arms, and left the shop.

Once outside, he didn't dare stop. Carrying the box, he quickly crossed the alley, turned into the mule and horse market, and mingled into the crowd.

He didn't dare to look back until he had walked quite a distance.

The alley entrance was pitch black, and you couldn't see anything at all.

He hugged the box tightly and quickened his pace.