The Ming Dynasty: Starting with the Carpenter Prince!

Before setting off for the imperial estate, Zhu Youxiao did something completely unexpected.

He went to the warm pavilion to pay his respects to the emperor. He did not bring any memorials or registers, nor did he carry any official business; he simply went to see his father.

Inside the warm pavilion, Emperor Taichang leaned against a soft couch, casually flipping through a book. Seeing his eldest son enter, he looked slightly surprised, put down his book, and glanced at him: "Today isn't the day for the Imperial Lectures, why have you come?"

"Your subject greets Your Majesty."

Emperor Taichang grunted in acknowledgment and gestured with his hand towards the low stool beside the couch.

The father and son remained silent for a while. After a short while, Emperor Taichang turned a couple of pages of his book and suddenly said casually, as if by accident, "When you were young, you were carving wood and accidentally cut your hand. At that time, I was reviewing memorials in the Eastern Palace. Upon hearing the news, I rushed over without even putting down my vermilion pen."

He paused here, his tone extremely indifferent: "You probably don't remember."

Zhu Youxiao certainly didn't remember.

That past in the Eastern Palace was left blank in the memories of the original owner, so the transmigrator should feel a sense of alienation when facing the childhood memories of a stranger.

However, as he gazed at the emperor's face, he showed no sign of deliberately reminiscing, nor any hint of sighing or lamenting. He was merely flipping through a book and making a casual remark.

It was as if, unintentionally, a small fragment had fallen from the cracks of his thirty-year life as crown prince, a life lived on thin ice.

"Your subject remembers," Zhu Youxiao said.

Emperor Taichang was slightly taken aback.

He glanced at his eldest son, said nothing more, and then lowered his head to continue reading. Zhu Youxiao sat quietly for a moment, then rose to take his leave.

Stepping out of the warm pavilion and walking into the long palace alleyway, his hands, hidden in his sleeves, unconsciously clenched tighter and tighter.

The small red circle on the folded paper from yesterday is still vivid in my mind, but today the phrase "I don't remember much" weighs heavily on my heart again.

To be fair, the emperor had no intention of asking for favors.

This emperor, who was walking on thin ice, was merely trying to subtly confirm whether the increasingly powerful crown prince still remembered that he was his bloodline.

Thirty years of imprisonment in the Eastern Palace, fifteen years of father-son affection. He could give so little, so little that even a trivial matter like chipping wood was worth pondering.

Zhu Youxiao suddenly quickened his pace.

The imperial estate assignment could not be delayed any longer, the Puhe silver needed to be raised, and the expenses of the training institute needed to be covered. He had to personally investigate the Crown Prince's assets thoroughly.

Now, let's talk about the imperial estate on the outskirts of the capital, located thirty miles south of the city.

Zhu Youxiao left the palace under the pretext of "studying the art of measurement," taking four students from the training institute with him. Ostensibly, they were there to observe the people's conditions and broaden their horizons, but in reality, they were only doing one thing.

Clutching the records from the Imperial Household Department, he went to the site to measure exactly how much of the imperial estate land remained.

The bottom register clearly states in black and white: the fixed area of ​​farmland is 12,000 mu, and the annual harvest of farmland grain is more than 400 taels of silver.

The imperial estate, covering 12,000 mu, only paid 400 taels of rent per year. That translates to less than four fen of silver per mu.

This number is completely wrong!

The quick reference chart of the Ming Dynasty history in his mind clearly stated that the rent for imperial estates ranged from three to seven or eight fen per mu, with the median of five fen. For 12,000 mu, the rent should be six hundred taels. On the books, it was nearly 30% less.

The whereabouts of the vacant positions need to be thoroughly investigated on the ground.

Upon arrival, it became clear that the discrepancy between the accounts and the actual situation was enormous.

Two veteran soldiers from the training institute, carrying measuring tape and rope, measured along the field ridges. They measured from dawn until afternoon, then checked the measurements twice more. When the results came out, Zhu Youxiao only glanced at them briefly, his expression unchanged.

But it felt as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over my head.

The book shows 12,000 mu, but the actual measurement is 4,700 mu.

The difference of 7,300 mu was all due to encroachment. The fields are still being cultivated, and the crops are lush and green, but the tenants have handed over the rent to others.

"Your Highness," a student stepped forward and reported in a low voice, "when we reached the west side, we were stopped. An old eunuch in charge of the estate, along with seven or eight servants, refused to let us in, claiming that the land belonged to 'Eunuch Zhang,' and anyone who measured it would be in trouble."

Who is Eunuch Zhang?

"I asked. The steward refused to reveal his full name, only saying that he was an old eunuch from the palace who had been in charge of this imperial estate for about twenty years."

Zhu Youxiao nodded slightly and did not pursue the matter further.

The usurpation of imperial estates by eunuchs was a deeply entrenched and festering problem in the Ming Dynasty. It was not surprising that a eunuch who had held power for twenty years could control seven thousand acres of land. What was surprising was to whom he ultimately sublet those seven thousand acres.

Are there any tenants near the blocked plot of land?

"Yes. We saw a few people working in the fields from afar. Just as we were about to approach them to speak, they heard that someone from the Eastern Palace had come, and they were so frightened that they dropped their hoes and ran away!"

The tenant ran away.

The emperor's fields were inspected by the emperor's men, so the tenants should have felt that someone was finally in charge. Their throwing down their hoes and fleeing only showed that, in their hearts, they feared Eunuch Zhang more.

The reason is that the Crown Prince came and left, but Eunuch Zhang lingered and refused to leave.

Upon hearing that the tenants had fled, Zhu Youjian immediately grabbed his robe and gave chase without a word. The nine-year-old boy, though short-legged, ran incredibly fast, chasing them all the way to a low shed at the end of the field, where he finally caught one who hadn't managed to escape.

The old tenant farmer, in his fifties, was hunched over like a shrimp, huddled tightly in the corner of the shed. He clutched half a hoe handle tightly in his hand, staring in terror at the young master, dressed in a short silk robe, who was panting as he caught up with him.

"Don't run! Don't run!" Zhu Youjian bent over and caught his breath for a moment, then looked up and smiled at him. "Old man, I'm just asking you a few questions. I'm not here to cause trouble."

The old tenant huddled tightly against the wall, too afraid to move.

Zhu You squatted down abruptly, looking him in the eye.

"What did you plant?"

"Su." The voice was so faint it was almost inaudible.

How many people are in your family?

Five people.

"Who should we pay the rent to?"

The old tenant's lips moved, but he clenched his teeth and remained silent.

Zhu Youjian frowned slightly. The confidence he had gained recently from checking accounts at the training institute and banging on the table with the head eunuch made him feel that there was nothing he couldn't ask. He leaned forward and lowered his voice to utter what he considered to be his most weighty question.

"Old man, there is no need to be afraid. I will protect you from being banished."

The tenant farmers' reaction was completely unexpected.

With a muffled thud, the old man knelt straight down in the mud, kowtowing desperately.

"Your Highness, spare me! I didn't say anything! I didn't say anything!"

His forehead slammed heavily onto the hard ground, making a thud.

Zhu Youjian was stunned on the spot.

He said he would protect you, but the old tenant farmer only heard the word "trouble." The promise of the nine-year-old prince carried no weight in the ears of the old farmer who had been oppressed by Eunuch Zhang for twenty years. With no one to protect him after the prince left, and Eunuch Zhang entrenched in the manor as always, the prince's words today might not hold true tomorrow.

The character "保" (bǎo) carries immense weight in the imperial palace, yet is worthless on a field ridge.

Zhu Youjian opened his mouth as if to speak, but someone pressed down on his shoulder.

The eldest brother, Zhu Youxiao, had quietly appeared behind him at some point.

He didn't squat down, but looked down at the old farmer who was desperately kowtowing. After two breaths of deathly silence, he finally spoke.

"Old man, get up and answer me."

The voice was neither loud nor soft, devoid of any reassurance or promise; it was simply a dry instruction. The old tenant farmer didn't dare to get up at all.

"I won't say I'll protect you. Whether I do or not isn't just a matter of words." Zhu Youxiao lifted his robe and squatted down to look him in the eye. "I'll make a deal with you."

The old tenant's kowtow suddenly froze.

He understood the word "transaction".

Farmers spend their lives dealing with grain merchants and local thugs; these transactions are essentially barter, far more reliable than any guarantee.

"Tell me the truth about this estate. Which piece of land was seized by Eunuch Zhang, how many years he has occupied it, and where the rent is paid."

As he spoke, Zhu Youxiao reached into his sleeve, pulled out a blank document, and printed it on his person, then spread it out on the muddy ground in front of the old farmer.

"You have told me everything, and I will write this agreement on the spot and affix my fingerprint. From this day forward, the rent for this land will be paid directly to the Crown Prince's Palace and will no longer pass through Eunuch Zhang's hands. This agreement is in duplicate, each keeping one copy. It is written in black and white, and no one can deny it!"

The old tenant raised his head.

He stared intently at the fifteen-year-old boy in front of him, then looked at the blank document and the inkpad.

The document contains written signatures and fingerprints, and is made in duplicate.