The Ming Dynasty: Starting with the Carpenter Prince!

That evening, at the north room of the Chenhewan Inn.

As dusk fell and the window paper glowed yellow, Wang Chengen sat at his desk organizing the day's interrogation records. The clerks from the Ministry of Revenue had already left, leaving him alone in the room.

Light footsteps sounded outside the door.

"Master Wang."

It's Zhang Shenyan.

Wang Chengen put down his pen, stood up, and offered Zhang Shenyan his seat. Zhang Shenyan did not sit down, but instead closed the door behind him, glanced out the window, and moved back to the side of the desk.

"Sir Wang, there's something I've been keeping to myself for three days."

"Please speak, Censor."

Zhang Shenyan did not speak immediately, but stared at the snow lamp on the table for a long time before finally speaking.

"The purpose of this trip is not strategic planning."

He paused for a moment.

"It will not drift away."

Wang Chengen looked up. Zhang Shenyan's lips moved slightly, the words rolling between his teeth several times before he finally uttered them.

"Someone at the Censorate wants to touch the list on behalf of others."

Wang Chengen rested his hand on the edge of the table without moving.

Read the inventory on behalf of others.

He heard those four words clearly. His Highness the Crown Prince was currently sharing the burdens of the Emperor and Father, reviewing memorials daily and making two copies of each, one for the Directorate of Ceremonial and the other for the Grand Secretariat. Every single annotation and comment was clearly written on them. Someone wanted to access this register, directly targeting His Highness the Crown Prince himself, intending to investigate whether he had shown favoritism or bias during the review process.

This is a knife aimed at the Crown Prince's palace.

The room remained quiet for a long time.

Wang Chengen calmly sipped his tea and asked, "Who told you that, Censor?"

"This humble official dares not speak."

"When the censor said this today, was it to inform or to remind me?"

Zhang Shenyan remained silent for a moment.

"I myself am also observing the situation."

He stopped there.

Wang Chengen understood perfectly. Informing someone meant taking sides, while reminding them was ambiguous. Zhang Shenyan's silence was neither of those; he was leaking information. The leaker himself hadn't decided on a side and only wanted to convey his message to those who understood. His next move would depend on who made the first move.

Wang Chengen took another sip of tea.

"Imperial Censor".

"Um."

"I was ordered to investigate the loss of Liaodong military funds on this trip. The person in charge of the accounts only kept the accounts." He put down his teacup. "The inventory list is not in my account book."

Zhang Shenyan stared at him for a couple of breaths. Wang Chengen raised his eyes, his face gentle yet revealing a scholarly awkwardness, no different from any other official in the Ministry of Revenue.

Zhang Shenyan nodded slowly: "Manager Wang is the most honest in keeping accounts."

"You flatter me, Your Excellency."

Zhang Shenyan rose, bowed, and left. The moment the door closed, Wang Chengen's fingers tightened slightly on the edge of the table. The statement that the inventory wasn't in his accounts neither offended anyone nor absolved himself of responsibility, and it also returned the thorn in his side to the Censorate with dignity. He couldn't be the sheath of this knife, nor the blade; he could only keep accounts.

Wang Chengen picked up his pen and slowly continued writing the daytime interrogation record, his pen moving precisely to each word.

However, he picked up the pen and then put it down again. He stared at the invitation from the Duke of England's residence for a long time. Zhang Weixian's private seal arrived in the morning, and the Censorate's sword was delivered in the evening—the two events occurred on the same day. Zhang Weixian's network of information was so advanced that he probably sensed the news even before the investigation team set off. Was this Duke protecting the investigation team, or the Crown Prince, by handing over his private seal? Or was he using this opportunity to secure a position for his own family?

Wang Chengen put down his pen.

He dared not dwell on these thoughts. The accountant only did the accounting; he had just told Zhang Shenyan this once, and now he was telling his own family the same thing.

He placed the post under the stack of official documents at the bottom of his desk.

…………

On the same day, in the capital, in a side hall of the Eastern Palace.

Zhu Youxiao sat behind his desk and read a piece of paper. The paper was square and covered with his younger brother's handwriting.

"Brother, I kept the paper that the scholars were arguing about buying yesterday in my drawer and didn't dare to look at it. Today, the two of them argued for half a day about whether mathematics could be included in the main column of the ten-day newspaper. Mr. Chen still didn't say a word. I wrote it down and put it in the mailbox. Your humble servant Youjian."

The wording is very proper and orderly.

Zhu Youxiao read it without saying a word.

Zhu Youjian stood before the desk, twisting his sleeves with both hands: "Brother, did I think it right this time?"

"Oh, right."

"So, what should we do, brother?"

"I'll read it myself," Zhu Youxiao folded the paper and placed it on the corner of the table. "Go back and keep watch on the ten-day report; don't ask any more questions."

Zhu Youjian responded, bowed respectfully, and left.

The hall returned to silence.

Zhu Youxiao unfolded the paper again and looked at it for a long time.

The two scholars were actually arguing about whether mathematics could be recognized and featured in the main column of the ten-day newspaper. If it could, Chen Wenju would be the one to make the greatest contribution; if not, he would forever remain a mere abacus-wielding student. This was a nascent factional dispute.

This is how factions in government offices take root. Initially, the struggle wasn't for tangible benefits, but for the power to determine the rules—whether mathematics was a legitimate field of study, and whether the numbers Chen Wenju produced on his abacus counted as valuable content for the main column of the ten-day report. The winners sat at the table, the losers served tea; these two scholars were remarkably quick with their actions.

Chen Wenju's silence was also a sign of his understanding. If he were to speak up and defend himself, it would become a quarrel between the three; if he remained silent, this matter would become a conflict between the two scholars and the Crown Prince. This restraint was not stage fright, but a matter of discretion.

However, this sense of propriety is something that can sometimes be maintained for a day, but not for ten. The two scholars will argue about this matter today, and they will argue again tomorrow and the day after. As long as Chen Wenju remains silent, he will be kept on the edge of the fire. If this continues for too long, his sharpness will either be dulled or it will crack.

Zhu Youxiao tapped the edge of the table twice with his knuckles.

He already had a plan in mind. How to draft tomorrow's ten-day report, how many articles to include in the main column of the next issue, and whether to put Chen Wenju's grain transport accounting report at the top—he would leave all these things for now—he would wait and see what happened in another ten days. If Chen Wenju couldn't find a way out on his own, then he was just a tool for manipulating things; if he did, then he was someone who could walk the long road with him.

The first principle of employing people is not to pave the way for them, but to see if they are willing to walk the path themselves.

Zhu Youxiao placed the paper back on the table. He would not make a decision for the time being. It was easy for those in power to speak up for him, but difficult to secure his position. This matter depended on Chen Wenju's own abilities.

Zhu Youxiao folded the paper and put it into his sleeve.

…………

It was the third watch of the night at Chenhe Bay.

The snowstorm resumed. The inspection team set off. Mules harnessed the carts, their hooves wrapped in cloth. The postmaster, carrying a lantern, saw them off outside the gate, his face even more eager than yesterday. Wang Chengen whispered a few words to Zhang Shenyan beside the mule cart, then boarded the cart.

Wang Tiezhu mounted his donkey and glanced at the withered reeds and bushes outside the inn in the dim light of the lantern.

He had only glanced at it casually. But once he finished, he couldn't tear his gaze away.

At the base of the bushes, there was a compacted footprint in the snow, covered with a very thin layer of fresh snow—the person had just left. A few feet further north, there were two more shallow footprints, but they had been swept away; the sweeping marks were from a dry reed, not from footsteps.

The person who waited all night.

He had a slight thought but didn't say anything. He exchanged a glance with Liu Danian and then led the donkey slowly toward the front of the group.

Upon reaching the edge of the bushes, Wang Tiezhu dismounted his donkey and bent down, pretending to adjust his bellyband.

A corner of a ivory tablet peeked out from a gap in the withered reeds, half-buried in snow with only a small part sticking out.

Three borders of vermilion lacquer.

He recognized these palace tokens. When military supplies were being transported, people from the palace always carried these tokens; the three border lines were the mark of the inner court. This item was always carried on one's person and would not have been lost without reason—it was most likely that it had slipped out of his pocket while he was sweeping snow to cover the mark, and because the snow was falling so fast and the token was so small, the person left without noticing.

He subtly shifted his foot, the sole of his boot firmly pressing down on the domino.

He lowered his head and tugged at his bellyband, his hand sliding down his coat sleeve and brushing past the edge of his boots, before quickly tucking the ivory token into his sleeve.

Wang Tiezhu straightened up, patted the donkey's neck, and mounted it.

He did not utter a single word to Liu Danian, nor did he make a fuss about it to Wang Chengen and Zhang Shenyan.

The skinny donkey slowly followed the caravan northward. The ivory token under his jacket sleeve pressed against his waist and abdomen, hard and cold.

After walking half a mile, Wang Tiezhu, using the remaining light of the lantern, ran his fingertips along the edge of the plaque inside his sleeve. The plaque was about the size of a palm, with three small characters engraved in relief on the front.

Imperial Pharmacy.

Wang Tiezhu withdrew his hand and placed it on the donkey saddle bridge.

He didn't plan to reveal this plaque. He would first have His Highness review it upon returning to the capital, and then leave it untouched. One of the four rules His Highness had given him before his departure was not to take sides. This extra step he took didn't count as taking sides; it was simply about delivering what was due to His Highness.

The wind and snow were blowing in our faces.

The group headed north.

Ahead lies the territory of Jizhou in Zhili Province.