Da Ming: The system granted me immortality; I clock in every day.

Time flies, and the winter of the sixth year of Yongle's reign was colder than usual.

Just after the start of winter, Nanjing was greeted by a rare heavy snowfall.

Snowflakes, as white as goose feathers, fluttered down, adorning the entire imperial city in a silvery white blanket.

Against the backdrop of white snow, the red walls and green tiles lost some of their somberness and gained a touch of the desolate vastness of the north.

The supply of charcoal in the Hanlin Academy was always distributed according to rank, and Gu Yannian, as a seventh-rank compiler, naturally did not receive much charcoal.

And most of them are low-quality charcoal that smokes easily.

Fortunately, he was not afraid of the cold.

The Hanlin Academy appears somewhat deserted today.

Due to the heavy snow, many officials took sick leave.

Gu Yannian arrived at the yamen on time and completed his roll call for the day.

[Ding! Today's attendance complete. Attribute point gained +1.]

After habitually allocating his attribute points, Gu Yannian was assigned a task by his superior.

Go to the Ministry of Rites' Department of Foreign Affairs to verify a newly arrived list of tribute gifts from overseas vassal states.

Since Zheng He's first voyage to the Western Ocean in the third year of the Yongle reign, the Ming Dynasty's fame has spread far and wide overseas.

In recent years, Western countries have sent envoys to the court to present rare and exotic animals as tribute.

The officials of the Ministry of Rites' Department of Foreign Affairs were extremely busy.

It was often necessary to borrow civil officials from the Hanlin Academy to help organize documents.

Holding a worn-out oil-paper umbrella, Gu Yannian walked slowly through the snow to the Ministry of Rites.

In the side hall of the main and guest quarters, various wooden boxes exuding strange fragrances were piled up.

Several officials were holding account books, checking the list of items brought by the Western envoys.

"The Kingdom of Sumatra contributed 500 catties of pepper, 1,000 catties of sappanwood, and a large leopard..."

"The Kingdom of Malacca offered one hundred catties of agarwood and ten pairs of rhinoceros horns as tribute..."

Gu Yannian found a quiet corner to sit down and began grinding the vermilion ink.

They began copying those messy lists into the official royal archives.

He wrote at a moderate pace, his handwriting neat and rounded, exuding a peaceful and unassuming demeanor.

"Lord Gu, take a look at this. This thing that Westerners presented as tribute looks like a tree root. They say it's edible and is the precursor to sweet potato. I don't know if it's a lie."

A young clerk from the Ministry of Rites approached.

Holding a slightly wilted tuberous plant covered in soil, he looked on with curiosity.

Gu Yannian put down his pen, looked up, and felt a slight stirring in his heart.

That wasn't a sweet potato, but a piece of very poor-quality taro from Southeast Asia.

But in the eyes of the Ming people, everything from overseas seemed strange and exotic.

"The customs and products of overseas countries are very different from those of our Great Ming. Since this stuff can be sent across the ocean, it must be something that can fill the stomach in those countries."

Gu Yannian responded calmly.

"These barbarians are trying to fool our Great Ming Dynasty with these clods of earth. Our Lord Zheng brought with him the finest silk and porcelain."

The clerk curled his lip and casually tossed the taro back into the box.

Gu Yannian did not respond.

He knew that although the Ming Dynasty's maritime endeavors were unprecedented and unparalleled.

However, it was an economically disastrous deal.

Generous gifts in return, intended to demonstrate the majesty of the Celestial Empire, also emptied the national treasury.

However, this is something for those in power to scheme about; what does it have to do with a mere immortality-obtaining man like him?

He continued copying the gift list.

At the end of the list, he saw a line of inconspicuous small print.

A bag of seeds of the rare flower from Ceylon.

When the handover was completed, Gu Yannian casually slipped the minor official from the Ministry of Rites a few hundred coins as a token of appreciation for his hard work.

He smiled and pointed to the bag of seeds that no one had bothered in the corner.

"My wife enjoys tending to flowers and plants. I wonder if we could ask for a few of these Western seeds, just so she can broaden her horizons when we get back."

Gu Yannian used a common excuse, even though he was a bachelor.

The clerk took the money, weighed it in his hand, and beamed with joy.

"Lord Gu, you're too kind! These kinds of unknown grass seeds are no match for His Majesty's taste; they'd just get moldy if left in the storeroom. Please take them all; consider it my humble offering to you."

Gu Yannian thanked him, put the bag of seeds into his sleeve, opened his oil-paper umbrella, and walked out of the Ministry of Rites gate.

Back in my little courtyard, the snow was falling even harder.

Gu Yannian brushed the snowflakes off his shoulders and walked to the open space in the corner of the yard.

I used a shovel to clear away a patch of snow and poured out the bag of seeds.

They were hard, dark brown seeds with a faint spicy aroma.

This is not some exotic flower, but rather the seed of a Western chili pepper.

He carefully buried the seeds in the soil, even though he knew they wouldn't sprout in the dead of winter.

But next spring, he will be able to enjoy a truly spicy meal in the Ming Dynasty.

Back inside, Gu Yannian lit a charcoal fire and threw a sweet potato into the ashes of the brazier to roast.

He walked to the window, listening to the soft rustling of falling snow, his thoughts drifting far away.

Thousands of miles away in the Western Ocean, Zheng He's treasure ships may be battling through raging storms and towering waves.

On the northern grasslands, Zhu Di's iron cavalry were sharpening their swords, ready to drive the Mongols completely into the desert.

Meanwhile, inside the imperial palace in Jinling City, the Crown Prince and the Prince of Han were engaged in a fierce power struggle over the dragon throne.

The world is like a giant chessboard.

Everyone is fighting desperately for their own desires and ambitions.

Life is as brilliant as summer flowers, yet pitifully short.

Gu Yannian turned back to the brazier and used iron tongs to remove the sweet potatoes that had been roasted until their skin was charred black.

A sweet aroma immediately filled the small room.

He peeled off the charred skin, took a bite of the soft, sweet melon flesh, and sighed with satisfaction.

"No matter how the world changes, the flavor of roasted sweet potatoes in the dead of winter lasts the longest."

The story of the Ming Dynasty continues.

But his life still seemed endless.

Tomorrow at 5 AM, it's time to go to the Hanlin Academy for roll call again.

……

Spring of the seventh year of the Yongle reign.

The forsythia along the Qinhuai River is in full bloom, and the city of Jinling is bustling with activity.

However, the atmosphere in the Ming Dynasty court was like the north wind blowing from beyond the Great Wall.

It exudes a restless energy that blends a sense of dread with fervor.

Inside the Fengtian Hall, Emperor Yongle, Zhu Di, sat upright on the dragon throne, his gaze piercing.

Although the Ming Dynasty's territory remained stable after the Jingnan Campaign.

However, the remnants of the Mongol tribes in the north still frequently raided southwards, becoming a major concern for Zhu Di.

Recently, Tatar Khan Benyashiri executed Guo Ji, an envoy of the Ming Dynasty.

This thoroughly enraged the emperor who had seized power on horseback.

"Qi Guogong Qiu Fu, heed the imperial decree!"

Zhu Di's voice echoed throughout the hall.

Among the train, an old general with white hair and beard, yet still standing tall, strode out and knelt on one knee.

"Your humble servant is here!"

"I hereby appoint you as the Grand General Who Conquers the Barbarians, leading 100,000 elite cavalry to quell the rebellion beyond the Great Wall! You must hang the head of that madman Benyashiri above the Meridian Gate!"

"Your subject obeys the imperial decree! We will surely pacify the northern deserts and uphold the might of our Great Ming Dynasty!"

Qiu Fu's voice was booming and full of energy.

All the officials and civil and military officials looked at this first meritorious official in the Jingnan Campaign with awe.

Meanwhile, in the Hanlin Academy on the other side of the imperial city, Gu Yannian was sitting in his duty room.

Holding a brush dipped in thick ink, he slowly and methodically filled in the missing words and phrases on a newly revised copy of the "Great Ming Code".

The noise from outside drifted in through the cracks in the window.

Several young editors gathered under the eaves, excitedly discussing the imperial court's momentous military campaign.

"The Duke of Qi is a renowned general of our time. This time, leading 100,000 elite troops, he will surely rout the Tatars!"

"Indeed! The mighty cavalry of our Great Ming Dynasty is awe-inspiring throughout the world; these mere barbarians are nothing but a mantis trying to stop a chariot!"

Gu Yannian listened quietly to his colleagues' grand pronouncements, his pen never pausing.

He knew very well that this northern expedition, on which the entire court placed high hopes, would be a devastating disaster.

In the seventh year of the Yongle reign in history, Qiu Fu, the Duke of Qi, underestimated the enemy and recklessly led a thousand vanguard troops deep into enemy territory.

They were eventually ambushed by the Tatars at the Luqu River.

The army of 100,000 was leaderless and was wiped out in one battle.

The veteran general who made outstanding contributions in the Jingnan Campaign not only died and his country was destroyed, but his entire family was also stripped of their titles.