The Ming Dynasty: Starting with the Carpenter Prince!

The old tenant farmer had been farming and paying rent for twenty years, and had never seen an official willing to give him a written agreement. When Eunuch Zhang sent people to collect rent, he never gave a receipt; the amount collected was entirely verbal, leaving the tenant with no proof. Now, this young man in silk robes was actually promising to write one.

The old man's chapped lips trembled violently: "Really?"

"It's all in black and white," Zhu Youxiao said, pointing to the document. "You put your fingerprint on it, and I'll affix my seal. This document is irrefutable proof. From now on, whenever Eunuch Zhang comes to collect rent, show him this document! If he doesn't acknowledge it, send it to the Eastern Palace, and I'll settle the matter with him on your behalf."

The old tenant stared blankly at the document for a long time.

He then slowly straightened up and wiped the dirt from his forehead with his sleeve. Although his voice was still trembling, the truth finally came out.

"I have been farming in this village for twenty-two years. For the first few years, the rent was paid to the steward in the palace. Later, Eunuch Zhang appeared and claimed to be appointed by the palace. He ordered the rent to be paid to him instead. We dared not ask any questions and had no choice but to comply."

"How much did you pay?"

"The rent was five fen per mu in the first year, and later it rose to seven fen. Later still, Eunuch Zhang transferred a large tract of fertile land in the west to a nobleman. The rent paid by the servants was no longer under Eunuch Zhang's jurisdiction, but was collected by the nobleman's steward."

Zhu Youxiao wrote on the paper with a brush in hand: "Which important person?"

The old tenant swallowed hard, his voice barely audible: "We dare not inquire. We only know that the steward's surname is Zhao, and according to the villagers, his master family is a relative of the Duke of the capital."

In the capital, there are very few people who can be respectfully addressed as "Lord Duke" by their tenant farmers.

Zhu Youxiao paused briefly on the paper, and the ink spread into tiny dots.

He did not inquire further about the specific title.

There's no need to ask any further questions.

He must be a relative of Zhang Weixian!

That is, the British duke who sent two bolts of cloth at the investiture ceremony, the British duke who burned a letter and waited after the opening of the training institute, and the British duke who just sent a message last month claiming that the favor of two bolts of cloth should be honored and took the initiative to make good relations.

This is the only noble ally the Crown Prince can rely on right now!

The eunuch in charge of the estate seized seven thousand acres of imperial land, exploiting it layer by layer. Then, the eunuch passed it on to the nobles, who then exploited it again. These layers piled up on the tenants' backs like two mountains. The owner of one of these mountains was currently making a deal with him in the imperial court.

Zhu Youxiao swallowed his anger.

He showed no sign of his inner turmoil, continuing to write the terms of the contract with his head down. Once finished, he handed it to the old tenant: "Put your fingerprint on it."

The old man cautiously dipped his thumb in ink and pressed it heavily onto the end of the paper. Because his knuckles trembled so badly, the red ink was imprinted slightly crooked.

Zhu Youxiao stamped another copy with his personal seal, then handed one to the old tenant farmer: "Keep this safe."

The old tenant carefully handled the document as if it were fragile porcelain, tucking it into his robes. He then reached through his clothes to check that the document was still there before letting out a long sigh of relief.

After 22 years of hardship, for the first time someone finally wrote him a contract.

On the way back to the city, Zhu Youjian remained silent the entire time.

The carriage bumped along. He sat opposite Zhu Youxiao, his legs dangling in the air, unable to reach the carriage floor, and could only sway back and forth.

After wandering around for a while, he suddenly spoke up: "Brother, why did he kowtow and beg for mercy when I said 'I will protect you'?"

Zhu Youxiao did not answer immediately.

"It's all because you only mentioned the word 'guarantee,' but what he wants is proof."

Zhu Youjian frowned and pondered for a moment: "As the second son of the emperor, shouldn't my words serve as evidence?"

"Absolutely not," Zhu Youxiao answered decisively. "After you leave, he will continue to cultivate the land, and Eunuch Zhang will continue to collect rent in the village. Your word may be effective today, but it won't be effective tomorrow; only a written agreement can ensure long-term validity."

Zhu Youjian remained silent.

He stared intently at his hands, and after a long while, he muttered, "Next time, I'll bring a written agreement too."

Zhu Youxiao looked at his younger brother but did not laugh.

This child was kind-hearted and quick-witted, his determination to chase someone to the end of the field far surpassing that of others. However, he was unaware that the common people only believed in written words, never in empty promises.

In the seventeenth year of the Chongzhen Emperor's reign, under the crooked tree on Coal Hill, a man bit his finger and wrote in blood on his clothes, "Do not harm a single commoner." These mere six words were nothing more than empty words, and ultimately no one believed him.

"It's good to have a written agreement," Zhu Youxiao said slowly. "However, just having a written agreement is far from enough. You also need to think carefully about the terms of the agreement, and promises must not exceed your ability to fulfill them. If you promise one acre of land, then write down one acre of land. Never make a promise to guarantee someone's life without careful consideration."

"A lifetime is too long; no one can be guaranteed to live it all."

Zhu Youjian nodded emphatically. He muttered to himself that he would write down one mu of land as long as he could, probably pondering the words over and over in his mind.

The carriage continued to bump along, and Zhu Youxiao leaned against the carriage wall, closing his eyes to rest.

All 7,300 mu of farmland belonged to Zhang Weixian's relatives.

This account cannot be touched for the time being. To expose it would be tantamount to a complete break with the British Duke's Mansion. The two retired soldiers from the training institute were placed there through the connections of Zhang Weixian's old subordinates, and in the future, they would still have to rely on the British Duke's Mansion's carriage and horse companies to transport silver to Puhe. If this connection is severed, he will be rendered blind and deaf outside the palace.

However, remaining inactive is tantamount to drinking poison to quench thirst.

The taxes from the seven thousand acres of imperial estates have been diverted, and with every penny less in the inner court's coffers, the resources he can access are reduced. The Puhe silver remains unaccounted for. Exposing this will inevitably offend allies, while remaining silent will tie his own hands; there is no solution to this dilemma.

Let's put it aside for now.

First, the actual land measurement data is locked in a hidden safe. This data on seven thousand acres of land is a double-edged sword, serving as both leverage and bargaining chip for Zhang Weixian. When to reveal it, how to reveal it, and how much to reveal depends entirely on how far the game progresses.

On the same day, the Cabinet was on duty.

Clutching a draft of an impeachment document from the Liaodong censor, Yang Lian strode briskly into Zuo Guangdou's duty room.

"Fufu, look!"

The draft lay spread out on the table. A memorial was submitted impeaching Xiong Tingbi, the military commissioner of Liaodong, for falsely reporting the number of troops. The commissioner's office reported 30,000, the Ministry of War kept records of 24,000, and the Ministry of Revenue directly allocated the full amount of 30,000, leaving a discrepancy of 6,000 men without actual pay.

Yang Lian's eyes lit up with excitement: "These figures match our previous calculations perfectly! With this impeachment, the proposal to replace the commander-in-chief will have solid evidence to support it, as the Liaodong censor has found in the local area!"

Zuo Guangdou's expression remained calm and unchanged.

He casually flipped the draft over to check the annotations on the back, his eyes scanning over the names of the impeaching censors, the dates of the memorials, and the sources of the data cited.

His brows furrowed slightly: "Did Wenru pay attention to the details?"

"What is it?"

"The number of troops cited in this impeachment, such as the military governor's report of 30,000, the Ministry of War's inventory of 24,000, and even the fact that there were actually less than 20,000, are almost identical to the Crown Prince's markings that Grand Secretary Liu gleaned from a copy of the cabinet last month."

Yang Lian was slightly taken aback: "So what? The number remains constant; it will be the same no matter who calculates it."

"That's completely wrong."

Zuo Guangdou slowly shook his head: "It is true that the numbers come from the same source, but the sources of the information are completely different. The data of the Liaodong Censor comes from the dispatches of the Military Commissioner's Office and the records of the Ministry of War. The data of the Crown Prince comes from the Training Institute, and the data of the Training Institute comes from Sun Chengzong."

Yang Lian's smile faded slightly.

"Sun Chengzong holds the position of lecturer at the Imperial Academy, and his authority is absolutely not related to the Ministry of War. How could he obtain the Ministry of War's records, and how could he obtain the dispatches from the Military Commissioner's Office? Wenru must be vigilant, the net that the Crown Prince has secretly laid is tightly intertwined with the spies of my Donglin faction."

Yang Lian fell completely silent.

Zuo Guangdou's unspoken message was crystal clear. Once they ran into trouble in the Ministry of War's shady dealings, Fang Congzhe only needed to compare these two threads to simultaneously pin down both the Crown Prince and the Donglin faction.

What plan should we devise?

Zuo Guangdou folded the draft and handed it back: "Submit the impeachment as before, but be sure to make minor adjustments to the source of the figures. Avoid clashing head-on with the Crown Prince's notes. We investigate our own, and the Crown Prince investigates his. These two lines must not be intertwined."

Yang Lian took the draft and stood there for a long time: "Does Fufu think the Crown Prince intends to protect Xiong Tingbi?"

Zuo Guangdou did not give a direct answer: "I only feel that the Crown Prince intends to thoroughly investigate the Liaodong military expenditure. As for who the investigation will ultimately point to, the Crown Prince will make his own decision, and we also have our own plans."

"Isn't this the same thing?"

"We are worlds apart." Zuo Guangdou looked directly at his colleague. "The Crown Prince's investigation into the Liaodong military funds has uncovered the entire chain of corruption, while our investigation into the Liaodong military funds aims to eliminate the military governor who knew about it but failed to report it. We share the same word 'investigation,' yet our goals are completely opposite. When we meet at the Imperial Lectures, the situation will be unpredictable."

Yang Lian's expression finally changed drastically.

As night fell, in a side hall of the East Palace.

Zhu Youxiao carefully organized the land registers for the day, and locked them together with the oral records and written documents from the old tenants into a sandalwood safe with a hidden lock.

The items in the cabinet seemed to grow heavier and heavier.

Fragments of leaves, the Puhe register, medicine dispensing records, and the actual survey of the imperial estate. Each and every one of these is a sharp weapon.

Unfortunately, the blade of this newly sharpened boning knife was coated with the blood of his only ally.

Zhu Youxiao closed the cabinet door and locked it with a copper lock.

He turned and sat back down at his desk, opening the book of questions to be reviewed tomorrow. He barely managed to flip through two pages, not even glancing at a single word. His mind was filled with the image of the old tenant farmer kneeling and kowtowing desperately.

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

The old farmer, who had been oppressed for twenty-two years, heard that the prince had promised to protect him, and his first reaction was to kowtow and beg for mercy.

This is the underlying color of the Ming Dynasty.

From the imperial desk in the Forbidden City to the field ridges thirty miles outside Beijing, from the drafts of the cabinet to the kowtows of the tenants. The emperor's vermilion pen could not reach the soil of the fields, and the tenants' blood and tears could not reach the inner chambers of the palace.

Today he bestowed upon an old tenant farmer a written agreement. Just one. Throughout this vast Ming territory, countless commoners are exploited in this way, layer upon layer.

Zhu Youxiao silently closed the notebook.

This matter cannot be rushed. But when those rough, chapped, old hands pressed the ink into the ink pad on the ridge of the field, they were indeed trembling.

The root cause of trembling is definitely not fear.

After enduring twenty-two years of hardship, for the first time someone had given him a fair explanation. He couldn't believe it, yet he couldn't help but desperately try to believe it.

Zhu Youxiao closed his eyes.

He heard the stench of decay emanating from the two-hundred-year-old Ming Dynasty, a sound that was deafening in the muffled thud of the old farmer kowtowing.

A moment later, he reopened the imperial edict.