Chapter 222: Candle Dragon

Lin Qian rose with a smile and said, "Come on, let's go take a look."

The men who had stayed up all night filed out one after another.

The furnace master opened Furnace No. 6, and with a "puff—" sound, molten iron splashed out.

Huo Ying's face changed: "Not good, the iron's running out!"

They saw that the furnace body near the tap hole had cracked, and molten iron was shooting out from it, splashing onto the ground of the courtyard, hissing and sputtering as it gave off white smoke.

There wasn't a single plant on the courtyard ground, so the molten iron didn't start a fire.

But this way, the furnace was certainly ruined, and judging from the appearance of the molten iron, its quality was even worse than Furnace No. 3's.

All the craftsmen felt somewhat deflated.

Lin Qian said in a low voice, "Open Furnace No. 7 as well."

The furnace master stepped forward cautiously, first observing the exterior — the furnace body had no red-hot spots, no deformation or bulging. This was a good sign.

After carefully opening the tap hole, the molten iron flowed out gurgling like oil.

The molten iron was a bright silvery white, flowing steadily through the sand mold, its surface calm, shrinking evenly, and the blue flames were gentler and shorter than Furnace No. 3's. All the craftsmen were stunned by this extraordinary sight.

The performance of this batch of molten iron was unlike any furnace before it — even going back several hundred years, there was no record of such molten iron ever being seen.

This... this couldn't possibly mean they'd really produced gray cast iron?

The molten iron hissed and crackled in the sand channels, but the sound couldn't drown out the thumping of everyone's hearts.

To allow slow cooling, the sand mold for this batch of molten iron was buried underground, and the craftsmen could only judge the cooling progress through the mold opening. They were truly impatient, unable to sit still, their hearts clawing like a hundred ants crawling.

During the wait, breakfast was prepared, and Ran Qiu called everyone over to eat.

Some of the impatient ones simply carried their bowls over to the mold opening to wait.

According to Lin Qian's theory, gray cast iron could only form through slow cooling, and the craftsmen were anxious to see the results — worrying on one hand that the iron cooled too fast, and fretting on the other that it cooled too slowly. They were truly tormented.

Two hours later, the sky was fully bright.

The molten iron at the mold opening had cooled to a dark black.

The craftsmen knew in their hearts that the iron ingot had finished cooling, and they all looked toward Huo Ying.

This matter was of great importance — even though Master Huo was the most senior and most respected furnace master, he didn't dare act on his own authority. He looked at Lin Qian, clasped his hands, and said, "Helmsman, may we open the mold?"

"You're the professional — I'll follow your judgment." Lin Qian knew the principles of smelting gray cast iron, but that didn't mean he'd actually done it with his own hands; judging whether the iron ingot had finished cooling was not his specialty.

Huo Ying was momentarily taken aback, then said, "Very well, open the mold."

The furnace masters had long been unable to contain themselves. At these words, they all set to work together, digging out the mold and carefully removing the sand casing.

Their movements were gentle, as if they were doing archaeology, afraid of damaging a cultural relic.

The iron ingot's exterior was silvery gray, the pieces fused together. The craftsmen used tools to pry off a piece, and at a signal from Huo Ying's eyes, carried it with both hands to Lin Qian.

"Helmsman, please inspect the ingot!"

Huo Ying handed over a hammer and chisel, indicating that Lin Qian should knock off a corner of the ingot.

Lin Qian had seen this step many times already — its purpose was to verify the iron's quality from the fracture surface.

Lin Qian accepted them gladly, mustered all his strength, and with a "bang!" struck the ingot. The ingot barely moved.

Though it hadn't broken, the sound alone was clearly different — white cast iron gives a sharp, crisp "clang-clang" when struck, but this ingot gave a low, deep, muffled sound with a short echo.

The craftsmen's eyes grew increasingly eager.

Lin Qian struck several more times, but the ingot simply wouldn't crack — instead, a slight indentation formed under the chisel, which was also completely different from white cast iron. Finally, after a dozen or so strikes, a corner of the ingot broke off.

The fracture surface was uneven and rough, showing dark gray granular texture, like a piece of deep gray sandstone, with no trace of bright white at all.

This was the classic characteristic of gray cast iron.

The craftsmen were overcome with excitement — some even laughed out loud.

From this day forward, three standards — high temperature, high silicon, slow cooling — would become the iron law of smelting gray cast iron.

From then on, Foye would no longer produce gray cast iron by luck and experience, but would instead open a new chapter of large-scale gray cast iron production.

Of course, before that, several new prerequisite technologies still needed to be unlocked.

"Tear open Furnace No. 7," Lin Qian ordered.

Furnace No. 7 was the "meritorious furnace" that had produced the gray cast iron, and having it dismantled like this pained the furnace masters.

But Lin Qian's prestige had soared after producing gray cast iron, and no one dared to contradict him.

They stopped the furnace, extinguished the fire, cleared out the charge, and tore open the furnace chamber.

All the craftsmen held their breath — they saw that the inner wall of the furnace had melted into a glassy glaze, with some areas flaking off in chunks.

Especially near the tuyere in the furnace belly, the refractory lining had been almost completely eaten away, and the furnace shell was clearly visible.

The furnace wall near the tap hole had also been corroded into an uneven surface.

In this sorry state, forget smelting gray cast iron again — even smelting white cast iron would be a stretch; it was basically on the verge of exploding.

So the prerequisite technology for gray cast iron was now very clear: optimize the shaft furnace structure and upgrade the heat-resistant materials.

Lin Qian had Ran Qiu add these two items to the tech tree, bringing the total to thirty-six problems awaiting solution.

Lin Qian said, "Of these thirty-six difficult problems, I've completed the smelting of gray cast iron. For the remaining thirty-five, I'll trouble the masters of Foshan to apply their efforts."

"We wouldn't dare presume," Huo Ying said, alarmed.

"In a few days, I'll ship over one hundred fifty thousand taels of silver — of which one hundred thousand is the deposit for fifty thousand matchlock muskets, and the other fifty thousand is just for show.

Have the guild find a room, put the silver and these thirty-five difficult problems inside it. Whoever solves a problem can receive a reward based on its difficulty — the minimum is five thousand taels."

Five thousand taels of silver was more than enough for an ordinary furnace master to live comfortably on for the rest of his life, never worrying about food or drink again.

This was a heavy bounty — there was no way no one would be tempted.

As long as the craftsmen of the Great Ming got competitive, their creativity was astonishing.

Lin Qian was confident that within at most ten years, all thirty-five difficult problems could be conquered.

It was getting late, and the administrative affairs of Guangzhou city were numerous and complex, so Lin Qian prepared to return by boat.

As for the delivery details of the fifty thousand matchlock muskets and the pricing of coke supply, his subordinates would handle the negotiations in detail—Lin Qian did not intend to participate. Once the talks were concluded, he would simply write the character "approved."

This trip to Foshan took one day and one night in total.

Lin Qian promoted coke-based iron smelting, confirmed the gray cast iron smelting technology, organized the tech tree, and established development goals for flintlock muskets, carronades, lathes, and boring machines.

At the same time, he integrated the industrial structure of Foshan's iron-smelting industry, established the superstructure, piloted a Ming-dynasty version of an intellectual property protection act, and found an arms supplier for the expansion of the new army.

One could say the harvest was plentiful.

The next step was to prepare for the expansion of the new-model army. Lin Qian planned to first recruit twenty thousand men, with more to be added later if needed.

The step after that was to screen surrendered Guangzhou soldiers for entry into the garrison forces, to be stationed at various prefectures and counties.

While the blazing white molten iron flowed from Furnace No. 7—

Hu Yingtai had been placed under house arrest by Lin Qian.

To stabilize the gentry, Lin Qian did not make things difficult for Hu Yingtai and his family—he merely placed the entire household under house arrest.

Seeing the surrender letter published in full in the newspaper, Hu Yingtai was so furious he nearly vomited blood, and repeatedly contemplated dying for his country.

Each time he was saved by the military medics stationed at the Hu residence. After several attempts, his desire to die gradually faded, leaving only endless sighs.

Meanwhile, in the capital, thirty-six hundred li away—

In early February, the Directorate of Ceremonial only received Hu Yingtai's urgent warning by fast horse. At that time, Lin Qian had not yet raised his troops—only the newspaper's rhetoric had been sharp.

Wei Zhongxian flew into a rage on one hand, while on the other he discussed with his confidants what further rewards to bestow upon Lin Qian.

Real power was out of the question, but empty titles could be stacked without limit.

The final result of the deliberations: his honorary rank was raised to the second-grade Piaoqi General, and his merit title to the third-grade Qingche Commandant.

The imperial edict had not yet been issued.

In mid-February, the military dispatch reporting the fall of Guangzhou arrived.

Guangzhou—the great stronghold, the gateway of the Pearl River, the hub of Lingnan—fell in three days! Three days!

A dignified governor-general, along with the entire three offices of high officials of Guangdong, were captured in one net—the whole of Guangdong was left leaderless.

To speak of it, it truly sounded like a fairy tale.

No one dared conceal such news.

The Ministry of War, the Grand Secretariat, and the Directorate of Ceremonial reported it up through each level, until it finally reached the carpentry workshop of Qianqing Palace.

Upon hearing the news, the Tianqi Emperor was filled with disbelief. He summoned Wei Zhongxian to the carpentry workshop and confirmed it repeatedly before he understood the news was true. After the shock passed, the Tianqi Emperor flew into a thunderous rage, ordered a thorough and strict investigation, and demanded the rebellion be suppressed as soon as possible. He then entrusted the entire matter to Wei Zhongxian. Throughout the entire Tianqi reign, rebellions and uprisings rose one after another across the realm—not to mention the distant She-An Rebellion and the White Lotus sect uprising.

In just the first month of the seventh year of Tianqi alone, in Chengcheng County, Shaanxi, starving commoners led by Zheng Yanfu killed officials and rebelled; in the second month, Wang Er of Baishui, Shaanxi, rose up as well. When lice are many, they no longer bite—one more place in Fujian hardly mattered.

Moreover, Wei Zhongxian, to cover up his own culpability, only submitted the military dispatch—the Nan'ao Times that had accompanied Hu Yingtai's memorial was never shown to His Majesty. Thus the Tianqi Emperor was even less able to grasp the scale of this Fujian rebellion.

After leaving the carpentry workshop, Wei Zhongxian summoned confidants such as Wang Tigan and Cui Chengxiu for deliberation.

The conclusion reached: confer upon Lin Qian the title of Haicheng Earl, and appoint him Regional Commander of Guangdong!

Additionally, transfer the garrison troops of Jiangxi and Huguang to hold Meiguan Pass and Shaoguan Pass to the death.

Strictly order the naval forces of Zhejiang and the Southern Metropolitan Region to defend near the coast, protect the gateway of the Yangtze, and forbid putting to sea to seek battle.

There was no help for it—in naval attack, the imperial navy was absolutely no match for Lin Qian, and the limited fleet could barely manage to protect grain transport.

For a land offensive, the court had no money, and the southeast had known peace for so long that there were no troops fit for battle.

Liaodong had the Jianzhou barbarians, the southwest had She-An—soldiers could not be drawn from either side.

Even if there were money and troops, Wei Zhongxian had no great generals. Men like Sun Chengzong and Yuan Keli—he would never dare employ them.

The remaining generals attached to the eunuch faction lacked both talent and genuine trust.

Moreover, Lin Qian had not raised the slogan of "cleansing the side of the sovereign," so there was still room for maneuvering.

Thus, offering amnesty looked foolish on the surface, but in reality it was already a masterstroke.

As long as Lin Qian submitted in appearance, the southeastern tax silver could be recovered, His Majesty could be satisfied, and the sky would not fall.

Cui Chengxiu said: "Nine Thousand Years, Lin Qian's power is all along the coast. After taking Guangdong, he neither can nor will advance inland. As long as we seal the passes, do not cut off the trade routes, and offer him heavy benefits, this man will surely be content."

Wei Zhongxian pondered for a moment, then said: "Under the name of pacifying the rebellion, we can levy an additional suppression tax on the southeast. In this way, the tax revenues lost from Fujian and Guangdong can also be recovered, and it will do no harm to the court."

Cui Chengxiu's whole body trembled. He rose and clasped his hands: "Nine Thousand Years exhausts his wisdom, holds the state in his heart, and shares the nation's burdens—this subordinate admires it to the utmost!" Wei Zhongxian laughed heartily for a while, bade Cui Chengxiu sit down, and said to the eunuch confidant who was to carry the message to Guangzhou: "As long as Lin Qian can be stabilized, any condition can be agreed to. Even granting him hereditary rule over Fujian and Guangdong is permissible—even enfeoffing him as a marquis or a duke is not beyond negotiation."

"Yes!" The messenger eunuch clasped his hands. Wei Zhongxian waved his hand for him to withdraw.

Though Lin Qian had rebelled this time, Wei Zhongxian felt only slight unease, for Lin Qian's manifesto had not aimed its spearhead at him.

This caused a great stone to fall from Wei Zhongxian's heart—he could even sleep soundly now.

Such a great upheaval, resolved with just a few words of deliberation—a smile spread across Wei Zhongxian's face, proud of his superb political skill.

Suddenly, a young eunuch came to report on the Tianqi Emperor's movements: "Nine Thousand Years, His Majesty went to see the Empress this afternoon. Seeing the Empress reading, His Majesty asked what book she was reading. The Empress answered that it was *The Biography of Zhao Gao*. His Majesty fell silent."

Wei Zhongxian's smile froze, his face twisting with venom. He slammed the table, making the teacup tremble: "That bitch!"

Wang Tigan was greatly alarmed: "Nine Thousand Years, mind your words!"

Wei Zhongxian calmed himself and said coldly: "I did not provoke her, yet she comes to provoke me. I think her position has reached its end!" The three had already dismissed their attendants while discussing the suppression or amnesty of Lin Qian, so they had no fear of being overheard while plotting against the Empress.

Cui Chengxiu clasped his hands: "This subordinate will immediately have someone impeach the Empress's father."

"No hurry." Wei Zhongxian smiled coldly. "This matter is important—it must be carefully planned. Summon all my sons."

One month later.

The hinterland of Guangzhou had entirely fallen into Lin Qian's hands, with only Qiongzhou, Leizhou, Gaozhou, Lianzhou, and other western Guangdong prefectures not yet submitting, while strong passes such as Shaoguan remained under Ming army control.

The new army was commanded by Lei Sanxiang, advancing steadily and surely—no worry needed there.

Lin Qian's energy shifted from land military affairs to personnel and livelihood matters.

The Pearl River estuary, under Lin Qian's governance, had gradually stabilized, and the people's lives had returned to normal.

Leveling fields, weeding, turning soil, transplanting rice seedlings—all manner of agricultural work proceeded in an orderly fashion.

Policies such as agricultural loans and oxen rental were rolled out in succession.

These matters sounded easy enough, but for an occupied territory that had just endured war barely a month prior, the complexity of governmental transition and the implementation of new policies, and the resistance encountered, were simply unimaginable.

To safeguard farming, officials of all ranks in Guangzhou, under Lin Qian's goading, were practically run off their feet.

The clerks of the Qingping Office were busier still—in a single month, they investigated and punished over a hundred corrupt officials.

Zhou Qiyuan, the office director, had been so busy lately that his head never touched a pillow nor his back a bed; his wrinkles and white hairs had multiplied, yet his spirit burned ever brighter. Clean governance and peaceful common folk—this was precisely the lifelong wish of a literatus like him. Watching it come true bit by bit, the sense of achievement was beyond compare—how could he not be exhilarated?

As for whether he had joined the rebels or taken part in the rebellion—that no longer seemed so important.

When the people's lives improved, when no flames of war loomed before their eyes and no criticism reached their ears, the legitimacy of a regime was greatly strengthened.

At the very least, it maintained the ostrich mentality of "out of sight, out of mind."

This was precisely why Lin Qian, after taking charge, had expended great effort to safeguard farming and improve people's livelihoods.

The Nan'ao Times ran follow-up reports on every single change in Guangzhou, showing the people of Fujian and Guangdong exactly what was happening there. March—late spring—the world warmed, and all things burst into life.

Lin Qian set aside his work in Guangzhou for a major matter and made a special trip back to Nan'ao Island.

That matter was attending the launch ceremony of the new flagship.

Construction of the new flagship had begun in the tenth month of the fourth year of Tianqi; two years and five months had now passed in full, fraught with every kind of hardship and difficulty.

At the Yandun Bay shipyard, all of Lin Qian's key subordinates had assembled—except Lei Sanxiang, who was leading troops.

The ceremony was presided over by Lin Qian himself, blending Chinese and Western rites, with procedures intricate and carried out to the letter.

Beginning at dawn: first the sea sacrifice, then the sacrifice to Mazu, then the reading of the sacrificial address.

The address was penned by Ye Xianggao himself, its language exceedingly ornate.

Then came the Western-style blessing and bottle-smashing—the Portuguese shipwrights had even bought a bottle of wine specially for the occasion.

Finally came the dotting of the eyes and the naming.

By then the sun stood at its zenith; the sky was clear and bright. At the Yandun Bay docks, a crowd jostled shoulder to shoulder, everyone holding their breath.

They heard Lin Qian proclaim in a clear voice: "The *Classic of Mountains and Seas*, Chapter on the Great Wilderness of the North, records: at Zhangwei Mountain there is one with a human face and serpent body, red in color. When it closes its eyes, darkness falls; when it opens them, light shines. It eats not, sleeps not, breathes not; wind and rain it summons—this is Zhulong, the Torch Dragon.

"This vessel of ours was built through nine hundred and twelve alternations of dark and light, through countless rain, snow, wind, and frost. The shipwrights exhausted their ingenuity, hands calloused and feet cracked, never ceasing through cold and heat, through a thousand toils and ten thousand hardships—until at last this ship was completed.

"The deities of antiquity—of darkness and light, of wind and rain—are recorded in the classics, yet their traces are faint and distant.

"The craftsmen of today, of flesh and blood, have achieved deeds of brilliance that stand right before our eyes.

"Therefore, let this commemorate the triumph of human strength over heaven, and proclaim our will—united as one—to build a fortress of resolve.

"This ship shall be named *Zhulong*!"

With each sentence Lin Qian spoke, the craftsmen passed the words back to those behind them.

When he finished, the thousand-odd people in the shipyard fell silent for a moment—then erupted in enthusiastic cheers and shouts of joy.

Every craftsman who had taken part in building the ship had a flushed face and a surging heart.

Since ancient times, whenever a great project was completed, officials and emperors had always given thanks to Heaven and Earth and to their ministers and subjects.

To so directly attribute all the glory to the craftsmen—this was the first time it had ever happened.

To even place craftsmen on par with Heaven, Earth, and the deities, and to honor the workers' mighty deeds in a deity's name—truly unprecedented since antiquity!

The craftsmen danced and waved their arms, yet even that could not express the joy of being recognized. Some simply knelt and kowtowed, drawing a whole swath of craftsmen to their knees. Soon, the few people still standing at the very front looked quite conspicuous.

One of them, dressed as a scholar with graying hair and beard, was none other than Ye Xianggao, flanked by Ye Zhen and his grandsons and granddaughters.

Ye Xianggao had received Lin Qian's invitation to the new ship's launch and had initially not wanted to join the festivities—but first, he wished to see his great-grandson, and second, what Lin Qian had done in Guangdong was so sensational that it piqued his curiosity. So he had brought his grandchildren along.

He had expected the ceremony to be lengthy and dull, never imagining he would witness such a finishing touch.

Ye Xianggao turned to look at the craftsmen kneeling and kowtowing, then at the guards around him who were steadily helping them back to their feet.

Ye Xianggao sighed inwardly: "No wonder even Zhou Qiyuan is willing to rebel and die alongside Ziyuan. This ability to win people's hearts—truly refined to perfection…"

But then he recalled the islanders' standard of living and the extraordinarily high monthly wages of the island's craftsmen.

Ye Xianggao could not help but ask himself: "Is this truly 'buying hearts'?"

The craftsmen all knew that the helmsman disliked people kneeling; the island had seen no kneeling rites for a long time. This time it was only because emotions ran high and someone had taken the lead. The guards helped each person up, and the craftsmen quickly rose to their feet.

Lin Qian proclaimed in a clear voice: "Open the gates!"

On both sides of the dry dock's gates, six screw pumps stood waiting. At the command, the craftsmen whipped the draft animals and turned the pumps to draw out the water.

Ye Zhen said: "Grandfather, my husband said it will take another hour or two before the ship can float. Let's go sit in the building and watch from there."

Ye Xianggao was advanced in years and could not stand for long; hearing this, he went along gladly.

The two-story building beside the shipyard had been reserved specially for Ye Xianggao's family.

Servants were already waiting on them there—tables, chairs, stools, melons, fruits, and refreshments, all in full supply.

No sooner had they sat down than everyone felt something out of the ordinary.

Ye Heng exclaimed in delight: "Sister, this chair is so soft!"

Ye Zhen laughed: "The backrest and armrests of this chair are padded with cotton. My husband calls it a soft chair."

After all, this was the *Zhulong*'s first launch, so caution was essential—the water level rose very slowly.

After sitting and waiting for a long while, Ye Yisun grew rather bored and looked around. Spotting a newspaper rack in the corner holding a dozen-odd issues, he picked the newest one to read.

The newspaper reported how Regional Commander Lei's new army had advanced to yet another location, and how another dozen-odd petty clerks had been punished for extortion.

The headline of the newspaper's commentary article read plainly: *Farewell, Customary Fees*.

Customary fees—Lin Qian had encountered them as soon as he first arrived in Guangzhou.

They included scale-and-weight money, delivery money, ticket money, shoe-and-sock money, and so on.

In simple terms, it was a blanket name for the various exorbitant levies and miscellaneous charges by which yamen clerks exploited the common people.

The article interviewed parties involved such as Su Kang and Su Qingmei, and cited the old affair of the Qingmei Fang medical clinic in Guangzhou nearly being forced to close by two taels of customary fees. It sharply criticized the ingrained malpractice of official extortion under Ming rule.

In conclusion, it introduced the fundamental principle of "statutory taxation."

Ye Yisun read with animated delight, clapping and cheering—then, remembering he was at his grandfather's side, hastily composed himself and whispered to Ye Zhen: "Sister, tell me honestly—did brother-in-law write this article?"

Ye Zhen shook her head.

"Sister, you can say it freely—I absolutely won't tell Grandfather."

Ye Zhen said: "This piece was outlined by your brother-in-law, and I wrote it on his behalf."

"Ah?" Ye Yisun lowered his head to look, saw the author's pen name "San Qin," and laughed: "Hahahaha, sister, you use a character-splitting pen name too!" Ye Xianggao said with irritation: "Hmph, Zhen'er's birth name won't be revealed publicly, so there's no harm in using it—unlike you two brothers!"

Ye Yisun immediately fell silent.

Taking the opportunity to probe, Ye Zhen said: "Grandfather, I observe that Third Brother has a fondness for composition and devotes himself to calligraphy and prose. As it happens, the newspaper office is short-handed—why not let him come and try?" Ye Xianggao was slightly taken aback, then said: "So that's why you suddenly invited me to the island—this is what you were waiting for. What, is this another one of your own initiatives?"

"This time I'm acting as a persuader on my husband's behalf." Ye Zhen's expression was candid.

Ye Xianggao was left speechless for a moment. Seeing his grandson's expectant expression, he said: "Very well, if you wish to go, then go."

"Thank you, Grandfather!" Ye Yisun's face was wild with joy as he rose and clasped his hands in salute.

Ye Zhen continued: "Grandfather, I see that Eldest Brother aspires to serve at court and has long harbored ambitions to aid the state. Guangzhou's affairs are flourishing and numerous matters are complicated—it is precisely in need of capable officials to assist in governing. If Eldest Brother could take up a post there, he could both temper himself through experience and bring stability to the region. How about..."

Ye Xianggao: "Fan'er, what do you think?"

"Your grandson will follow Grandfather's decision entirely."

"Alas! Go, go." Ye Xianggao waved his hand helplessly.

"Thank you, Grandfather." Ye Yifan's face remained impassive, but inwardly he was overjoyed, casting a grateful glance at Ye Zhen.

Ye Zhen continued: "Grandfather, your granddaughter observes that you are still hale and vigorous..."

Ye Xianggao: "Stop right there! Isn't Lin Qian running some sort of official selection examination? Why is he picking on my Ye family?"

Ye Zhen said with an appeasing smile: "Those fresh out of the gate—how could they compare with Grandfather?"

"I have already retired from office. For me to come out of retirement is absolutely impossible!"

Feeling that his tone had been too harsh, Ye Xianggao glanced at his granddaughter's expression and softened his voice to make amends:

"With a new government established, one may absorb old officials and hold civil examinations in parallel. Those clerks in the Qingping Bureau have rich experience and can also be temporarily employed in batches. When Censors serve as officials, it facilitates the rectification of official discipline and the establishment of authority.

But you must admonish Lin Qian that this method cannot be sustained for long. Mixing supervision and administration together is a great taboo—the two are better kept separate."

Ye Zhen said: "Your granddaughter understands—this is just like how the Great Ming combines the post of Censor with the commission of Governor? Your granddaughter thanks Grandfather on behalf of my husband for the instruction." Ye Xianggao smiled without speaking.

At this moment, Ye Yisun pointed at the dry dock and said: "Look, the Candle Dragon has risen!"

Yahei

Fenyuan

Pen