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

In the backyard of the Grand Secretary's private residence, two old plum trees were in full bloom.

Spots of crimson dotted the snow-covered branches, their subtle fragrance wafting through the air.

Gu Yannian, wearing a moon-white fox-fur cloak, stood under the eaves.

He held a small purple clay teapot in his hand and slowly poured hot tea into a small white porcelain cup. The tea soup was clear and bright, and white steam rose in wisps.

He picked up his teacup and took a small sip.

My gaze passed over the courtyard wall and landed on the rolling hills west of the capital.

That place was the lifeline for heating in the capital of the Ming Dynasty during the winter.

Xishan Coal Mine.

The wind in the western mountains was stronger than in the city.

The fierce wind, carrying coal dust and snow powder, felt like knives cutting into people's faces.

However, at this moment, the Xishan Mine was a scene of bustling activity and people sweating profusely.

Deep inside the mine, torches flickered with a dim, yellowish light.

The leader of the Oirat delegation, Angke, the younger brother of Taishi Esen, was shirtless at the moment, revealing his muscular physique as solid as an iron tower.

However, the muscles that were once a source of pride on the grasslands are now completely covered in black coal ash.

All that remained were a pair of bloodshot eyes and white teeth that peeked out when he was panting.

It looks exactly like a black bear that crawled out of the ground.

"Bang! Crack!"

Angke gripped a heavy black iron pickaxe tightly with both hands and hammered it into the hard coal seam, shaking off large chunks of black gold.

"Hurry up! Don't dawdle! If this cart isn't fully loaded with coal, we'll have to forfeit all the braised pork for lunch!"

Outside the mine, the foreman sent by the Ministry of Works held a bamboo tally stick for counting and shouted loudly.

Upon hearing the words "braised pork," Angke's Adam's apple bobbed violently, and he swung his pickaxe even more vigorously.

He was a member of the prestigious Oirat royal family, a soaring eagle on the grasslands.

Just a few days ago at the Huitong Hall, he was still clamoring to fight the Southern Dynasty to the death.

But when the Imperial Guards actually cut off their three meals a day and only gave them dishwater to drink...

Those Oirat men, starving to the bone, ultimately couldn't withstand the protests of their stomachs.

What's even more deadly is that the officials in charge of the Ministry of Works in the Ming Dynasty were extremely cunning and malicious.

They deliberately set up a row of large iron pots outside the mine.

At mealtimes, a pot of stewed pork belly with alternating layers of fat and lean meat, along with braised pork hock in a rich, dark sauce, is always filled with it.

It's served with steaming hot, soft, and plump white steamed buns.

The irresistible aroma of meat wafted into the mine on the wind, making the eyes of these grassland barbarians, who ate only boiled mutton year-round and had very little salt, green with envy.

The culinary skills of the Ming Dynasty were a complete game-changer for these uncivilized barbarians.

"For the braised pork! Dig!"

A tribal chieftain from the Oirat tribe, panting heavily, hoisted a heavy basket of coal onto his shoulder and hurried toward the mine cart.

Their hard work was so impressive that even the miners from Shuntian Prefecture, who were originally employed by the Ming Dynasty, felt inferior to them.

"Men from the grasslands are incredibly strong."

The foreman smiled and made a mark on his notebook.

"These three thousand people are as good as ten thousand of our miners. At this rate, Taicang won't have to spend any money to buy coal this year, and the coal piles up on Xishan Mountain could build another small mountain."

Angke wiped the sweat and coal dust from his face, slammed the pickaxe on the ground, and gasped for breath.

He looked around at his subordinates, who were working enthusiastically, even competing with each other to grab a few more baskets of coal.

A sense of absurd sorrow welled up in my heart.

This is hardly a tribute mission.

These are clearly a group of laborers who were tamed by the Southern Dynasty people with just a few bowls of fatty meat!

It is sad as it is.

When the noon gong sounded and the cooks at the Ministry of Works lifted the wooden lid of the large iron pot, Angke was the first to throw down his pickaxe.

Holding a large, rough porcelain bowl, they rushed to the front, afraid that if they were late, they wouldn't be able to grab the fattest piece of pork hock.

The capital city, the Forbidden City, the Wenhua Hall.

The floor heating in the side hall was warm and cozy.

A faint scent of ambergris filled the air.

Emperor Zhu Qizhen, the Zhengtong Emperor, sat upright behind a large sandalwood desk.

He held in his hand a copy of the "Winter Profit Report of Xishan Coal Mine" that had just been submitted by the Ministry of Works.

"Pat-pat, pat..."

Zhu Qizhen's slender fingers danced lightly across the abacus.

The crisp sound of the abacus beads clashing together sounded more cheerful than ever before.

"Excellent!"

The young emperor abruptly stopped what he was doing, his eyes gleaming with a greedy and ecstatic light.

Wang Zhen, the Grand Eunuch of the Directorate of Ceremonial, stood to the side with a smile and carefully handed over a cup of warm goji berry tea.

"Your Majesty, are you finding it easy to mine the coal over in the Western Hills?"

Zhu Qizhen picked up his teacup and drank it all in one gulp. He then casually slapped the folding book on the table, his eyebrows dancing with delight.

"It's more than just easy! Those Oirat barbarians are natural-born miners! The Ministry of Works reported that in just over half a month, the coal output of the Xishan Coal Mine has tripled!"

"Those dark, black coal lumps, in my eyes, are nothing but gleaming silver!"

Zhu Qizhen paced back and forth excitedly in the hall, the hem of his cloak drawing bright yellow arcs in the air.

"In previous years, Taicang would have spent at least tens of thousands of taels of silver to purchase charcoal for the officials and palace in the capital during winter. This year, not only did they not spend a single coin, but the Ministry of Works also sold the surplus coal to merchants and commoners in the capital, actually earning the national treasury 50,000 taels of silver!"

"Such a highly profitable business! If only more Oirat delegations could come!"

Wang Zhen's lips twitched a few times as he listened to the Emperor's request for the delegation to come and mine coal.

Of all the emperors in the world, perhaps only this one would treat foreign envoys as goose that lays golden eggs.

Just as Zhu Qizhen was basking in the joy of exchanging coal for silver, Wang Zhen's eyes lit up.

Seemingly remembering something, he pulled out another thin document from his sleeve.

"Your Majesty, while the Western Hills are indeed raking in money every day,... the Imperial Stud has sent us a letter expressing their distress."

Zhu Qizhen's smile vanished instantly, and his brows furrowed slightly.

"Complain? The Imperial Stud manages all the horses in the country. It's the dead of winter, and they don't even need to go out to graze the livestock. What's there to complain about?"

Wang Zhen swallowed hard and answered in a low voice.

"Your Majesty. The two thousand tribute horses brought by the Oirat delegation have been handed over to the Imperial Stud as per regulations. For the past two weeks, those two thousand steppe horses have been eating, drinking, and relieving themselves in the stables. The northern horses have an astonishing appetite; they have already eaten more than half of the high-quality hay and black beans in the Imperial Stud's storeroom."

"The Minister of the Court of Imperial Stud said that if the support continues like this, there will not be enough fodder for breeding in the spring. He earnestly requested His Majesty to issue an edict to allocate silver from the imperial granary to purchase grain and fodder."

"Pay silver?!"

Upon hearing those two words, Zhu Qizhen's voice suddenly rose eight octaves, and his good mood vanished instantly.

He strode up to Wang Zhen, snatched the document from him, and skimmed through it, his face turning ashen with rage.

"Those freeloaders!"

Zhu Qizhen gritted his teeth.

"The people have gone to the Western Hills to mine coal, while the horses are left in the capital to enjoy a life of leisure! More than half of those two thousand horses are old and weak, unable to walk properly. Why should they eat my best fodder!"

In Zhu Qizhen's mindset formed over the past eight years, every blade of grass and every tree in the Ming Dynasty had to be accounted for in terms of cost.

People work and get fed, but horses don't work and get to eat fodder for free.

This is a losing proposition that I simply cannot tolerate.