The Ming Dynasty: Starting with the Carpenter Prince!

The fourteenth day of the twelfth lunar month, in the afternoon.

At the back door of the Ministry of War's Bureau of Military Affairs, a 600-li express post horse from Liaodong had just landed. Inside the saddlebag was an official border report from the Liaodong Military Governor's Office. The report was sealed with wax and stamped with Xiong Tingbi's official seal.

The duty officer opened the copy. In less than half an hour, the document was split into two parts: one went to the Minister of War's office, and the other was sent to the Grand Secretariat.

Duty officer at Wenhua Hall.

Fang Congzhe unrolled the scroll.

Xiong Tingbi's border report was extremely brief. The inscribed arrow at the wooden gate of the Puhe outpost was exactly the same as the one recorded in yesterday's report. It was followed by two requests: one for an additional 2,000 troops to Puhe, and the other for an additional 30,000 taels of silver. It was signed "Respectfully submitted by Xiong Tingbi, Right Vice Minister of the Ministry of War and Right Vice Censor-in-Chief, who is in charge of the Liaodong campaign."

Fang Congzhe did not look up, but took out a fine brush from the pen holder.

He wrote the number nine on the draft ticket.

"Please postpone your request and await the review team's decision."

After finishing writing, Fang Congzhe tucked the receipt into the newspaper and pushed it back onto the blank space in front of him along with the case file.

"Send it back to the Directorate of Ceremonial."

Xu Yiqing accepted the gift with both hands and bowed respectfully. Fang Congzhe did not give him any further instructions and waved for him to leave.

Xu Yiqing lifted the curtain and went out.

As soon as the curtain fell, Han Kuang passed by the door of the duty room, glancing at Fang Congzhe's desk and then at the rolled-up newspaper in Xu Yiqing's sleeve.

Han Kuang did not stop. After taking two steps, he turned his head and whispered to Liu Yizhu beside him.

"Ji Hui."

"Um."

"Only a single prime minister could be so stable."

Liu Yiju did not answer, and the two returned to their respective rooms.

…………

The fifteenth day of the twelfth lunar month, at the hour of Si (9-11 AM).

Side hall of the East Palace.

As usual, a eunuch from the Directorate of Ceremonial Affairs delivered a copy for review. Today, this one was on top of the list; it contained the full text of Xiong Tingbi's report, along with Fang Congzhe's nine-character draft: "The request should be delayed, pending review and deliberation by the committee."

Zhu Youxiao took the copy but did not immediately read it.

He first laid out the three old files that Liu Shun had transferred back from the Ministry of War's Department of Military Affairs the day before.

On the far left was the original memorial from last month regarding the deaths of the 17th Army in Puhe due to freezing temperatures; the original copy was complete, with all signatures and seals. In the middle was the troop roster for Puhe this year. The quota was 3,700, but the actual roster showed 1,200, meaning fewer than 800 were capable of firing a bow—a number he had seen in the inventory he had reviewed a few days prior. On the far right were Xiong Tingbi's three frontier reports: one urging reinforcements, one urging payment, and one requesting additional land reclamation. Reading these three reports together revealed how Xiong Tingbi had endured this past year.

Zhu Youxiao placed today's new border report after the stack on the far right, connecting it with the previous three reports.

The four border signs were lined up in a row.

He stared at Fang Congzhe's draft proposal, which suggested "the request should be delayed," for a couple of moments.

He did not pick up the vermilion pen.

The phrase "the request should be delayed" is shrewd and cunning. Both increasing troops and pay require silver and manpower, and with the Ministry of Revenue's auditing team just starting out, adding funds before the accounts are cleared means that half of the added silver will once again be lost in the complexities of the six-tiered transportation system. This is the Grand Secretary's way of saving face for the Emperor, a pretext for the Donglin faction, and a knife handed to the Crown Prince.

Where is the knife?

The knife was at the very end of the phrase "awaiting the inspection team's meeting." Before the inspection team's meeting was held, the lives of the two thousand soldiers and twenty thousand men in Puhe were all suppressed by the word "delay."

Besides the "increased troops and pay," Xiong Tingbi's border report also contained other hidden meanings.

Zhu Youxiao lightly pressed his finger on the middle section of the new border report, which read, "Reclamation of land and cultivation, local grain storage, no need for grain transport." Xiong Tingbi had already requested these twelve characters two years ago, but the cabinet had suppressed them. This year, after increasing the number of troops and pay, he deliberately buried the matter of land reclamation in the place where the Grand Secretary was least willing to look.

Old Xiong really knows how to write practice questions.

Zhu Youxiao picked up his pen.

At the end of the "Discussion on the Review of the Crown Prince's Documents" (which included the drafting of documents on behalf of others), he wrote a line.

"The three battalions of the Puhe Garrison should be established immediately. An additional 50,000 taels of silver from the imperial treasury should be allocated to Liaodong for relief and resettlement. Sun Chengzong will supervise the distribution of these funds nearby."

One sentence encompasses two.

Adding troops to the camps without increasing the number of soldiers is a shortcut to self-sufficiency through land reclamation; leaving the Ministry of Revenue untouched is a return to the old path of providing relief and compensation. Both strategies avoid the sharp edge of Fang Congzhe's "request should be delayed" approach.

After writing, he drew a short circle at the end, marking the usual practice of having the Crown Prince review and supervise the writing.

He sealed the booklet.

"Liu Shun".

"This servant is here."

"Send it to the Directorate of Ceremonial Affairs, and then to the Qianqing Palace."

"This servant understands."

Liu Shun took the seal, lifted the curtain, and left.

The hall returned to silence. Zhu Youxiao gathered the four border reports on the table one by one, stacked them in reverse chronological order, and put them into a dark drawer.

The lock clicked softly as it closed.

…………

The sixteenth day of the twelfth lunar month, at the hour of Chen (7-9 AM).

The warm pavilion of Qianqing Palace.

The emperor rested for two days. After the severe coughing that night subsided, Emperor Taichang lay on his couch for one day and then leaned against it for another. He only picked up his writing brush at dawn today.

The memorials were brought into the warm pavilion in less than the time it takes to drink a cup of tea. The first one was a memorial bearing the seal and approval of the Crown Prince's supervision.

He wrote only three words.

"Very good. Add it."

The ink is extremely rich and moist, and the brushstrokes are extremely steady.

Emperor Taichang did not put down his pen immediately after finishing writing; he started a new line.

"The Crown Prince's lecturer, Sun Chengzong, is to supervise the distribution of the imperial treasury funds, with the families of the seventeen soldiers of Puhe being the first to receive the funds, and the remainder to provide relief to the orphans of those who died in battle over the years and the wounded and disabled soldiers stationed in Liaodong."

Emperor Taichang wrote all forty-two characters in one stroke without pausing.

Zhang Yun, the deputy scribe, waited outside the pavilion and heard the soft sound of the brush tip pushing against the paper, and then the gentle sound of the brush being placed back on the inkstone.

He dared not go inside.

A moment later, a calm instruction came from inside.

"Send it back to the Cabinet."

…………

Duty in the Wenhua Hall, noon.

Xu Yiqing placed the copy of the vermilion annotations on the table.

Fang Congzhe unrolled the scroll.

He stared at the three red characters for a long time.

"Very good. Add it."

He remained expressionless, only tapping the edge of the table twice with his knuckles.

With the word "add," Fang Congzhe's four words, "the request should be postponed," became meaningless. The emperor did not refute it, but simply took one word from the crown prince's proposal and slammed it heavily on Fang's forehead as he drafted it.

The next line of vermilion ink fell even more steadily.

Sun Chengzong supervised the distribution of the imperial gifts locally, taking an unconventional approach. This bypassed the Ministry of War's verification process, the Ministry of Revenue's transfer, and the Military Commissioner's office's reception. The previous 100,000 taels from the imperial treasury, plus this 50,000 taels, totaling 150,000 taels of relief funds, were all directly disbursed from the Emperor's imperial treasury to Puhe. Sun Chengzong oversaw the distribution locally, starting with seventeen households, covering the orphans of those killed in action and the wounded soldiers stationed in Liaodong.

The money was kept away from the Ministry of Revenue and the provincial governor, avoiding any potential pitfalls.

This route through the silver was unprecedented.

However, Fang Congzhe did not slam his fist on the table in anger.

He placed the copy of the imperial edict on the table, alongside the draft of the newspaper from the day before. The two copies were laid out side by side; one bore his words, "A wise and experienced ruler, he should appease rather than suppress," while the other bore the emperor's words, "Very good. Add."

Five days passed between the two copies.

He had already mentally reviewed everything that had happened in the past five days.

The process of transferring the report to the capital, the Crown Prince's transfer of files, the dispatch of the border magistrate's report to the capital, the Crown Prince's review and endorsement, and finally the Emperor's approval and memorial—all five steps were executed according to the established rules. Every step was flawless, and not a single fault could be found. Yet, in these five days, relying solely on the principle of "following the rules," the imperial family had somehow managed to forge a path unlike any he had seen in the past seven years.

Xu Yiqing waited by the table, not daring to utter a sound.

Fang Congzhe finally spoke.

"Ichikiyo."

"Grand Secretary."

"I have three things to say to you."

"Yes."

"The emperor took an unconventional path," Fang Congzhe said, emphasizing each word, "bypassing the Ministry of Revenue and the regional military commissioner, directly disbursing relief funds from the imperial treasury."

"Yes."

"Sun Chengzong carried out the order nearby, taking the shortcut," Fang Congzhe added. "It's a five-day journey by post, and by the time the decree arrives, he'll be right below the Pu River."

"Yes."

"The Crown Prince's seconding of the proposal is in accordance with the proper procedures." Fang Congzhe paused for a moment, "The proposal to have someone else review and supervise the reading did not overstep any regulations."

Xu Yiqing lowered his eyes and did not reply.

Fang Congzhe did not wait for his reply.

"Each of the three paths goes its own way," the Prime Minister said slowly, "but together they form a net."

Xu Yiqing remained silent. A retainer's duty was simply to listen attentively, without needing to reveal his own stance.

Fang Congzhe was not angry. He raised his hand and moved the two copies to the left of the desk, making room in the center.

The sixth blank sheet of paper, which was left blank the day before yesterday, is still on the table.

Fang Congzhe picked up his brush and dipped it in ink.

He held his wrist suspended for a moment, then wrote two words on the paper.

"Lectures and workshops"

Fang Congzhe finished writing and put down his pen.

He didn't circle or annotate the two characters, leaving them standing alone in the center of the white paper.

The battlefield has moved from the Eastern Palace to the training institute, a conclusion he reached after sitting alone for two nights.

The Crown Prince has already followed the proper path to the Eastern Palace, and no one can find fault with it. The only remaining loophole is those six peasants at the training institute. What accounts will the two scholars be set up tomorrow? Just how deep can Chen Wenju's abacus really be? These things are not clear at the moment, but it is precisely in these unclear areas that we should strike.

He placed the white paper with "lecture" written on it on top of the documents on the left side of the desk.

Six sheets of paper are laid out neatly on the table today. The first five sheets represent the endgame puzzles of the past five days, and the sixth sheet represents the piece to be placed next.

…………

Night falls in the Eastern Palace.

Zhu Youxiao sat behind his desk in a side hall. He had finished annotating the last volume of the memorials he was reviewing today.

"Liu Shun".

"This servant is here."

"Tomorrow at Chenshi (7-9 AM), send Chen Wenju to the training institute."

Liu Shun was taken aback.

Chen Wenju usually stayed at the training institute, so why would the Crown Prince specifically order him to "send" someone?

He immediately understood.

The Crown Prince's use of the word "send" carried great weight. His Highness intended for Chen Wenju to sit in that side hall for the next two days, watching the two scholars tally up the old canal transport records from the Wanli era to which transfer station. Chen Wenju only needed to sit and listen, without uttering a sound, and then report back to the Crown Prince upon returning to the palace.

"This servant understands."

"Chen Wenju only listened without answering." Zhu Youxiao added, "If the two scholars ask, he will only reply with the four words 'The matter has not yet been settled.'"

"Yes."

Liu Shun accepted the order and withdrew.

The palace doors had just closed when the curtain was lifted again.

Zhu Youjian walked in carrying two oranges.

"elder brother."

"Um."

Zhu Youjian sat down on a low stool and placed the oranges on the corner of the table. He reached out and peeled an orange, carefully gathering the peels in his palm.

He looked up when he was halfway through peeling the shell.

"Brother, in today's third column of the training course, the two scholars have already reached the fourth stage of their fortunes."

"Um."

Mr. Chen has not yet spoken.

"Um."

Zhu Youjian lowered his head and picked out the plumpest segment of the orange, handing it over.

Zhu Youxiao took the orange and took a bite.

"sweet."

Zhu Youjian grinned and ate a piece himself.

After finishing his meal, he took out his small account book from his sleeve and added a line to the bottom of the page for today.

The handwriting on the ledger was still crooked and messy.

"Brother still hasn't had lunch."

After he finished writing, he closed the account book, did not show it to his brother, and put it directly into his sleeve.

Zhu Youxiao glanced at the line of writing out of the corner of his eye, but did not utter a word.

Zhu Youjian sat for a while longer, then picked up the letter box and got up.

"Brother, I'm going back."

"Um."

"I'll come again tomorrow."

Zhu Youxiao nodded.

The younger brother lifted the curtain and went out; his footsteps on the veranda were light and steady.

…………

Zhu Youxiao sat alone for a moment, then got up, put on a black cloak, and lifted the curtain to leave the hall.

Under the eaves outside the hall.

It started snowing again outside.

He stood under the eaves, gazing northwards.

Outside the palace walls is Chengtian Gate, and outside Chengtian Gate is Daming Gate. Heading north from the capital, one reaches Zhili, Jizhou, Shanhaiguan, and finally Ningyuan.

The imperial edict was sent via the post road and would arrive in five days.

When Sun Chengzong received the imperial edict, he should have been at the Pu River.

Zhu Youxiao stood under the eaves for a long time.

Snow fell on his cloak shoulders, leaving damp marks, but he didn't brush it off.

The land in Liaodong is bitterly cold, and the arrowheads on the wooden gate of the Puhe outpost are probably covered in ice by now.

Zhu Youxiao knew that this first step had finally been completed.