Chapter 280: The Zhejiang Navy Surrenders; the Inspector Impeaches the Governor-General

On the deck of the Lingcang, Bai Qing looked coldly across the deck, his expression stern.

The boatswain held a blade in his right hand and a whip in his left, relaying orders as he paced back and forth across the deck.

Beneath the boatswain's booming voice, even the Buddhist chanting seemed to fade.

The Nan'ao army enforced iron discipline—when military law was invoked, heads would roll, and no plea could save a man.

Most of the Lingcang's crew were newly recruited, but the veterans and officers had fought in the Battle of Malacca and had seen Lei Cui's hull. Compared to that, this Buddhist radiance and chanting were nothing.

And so, under the combined shouting and cursing of the helmsman, boatswain, and gunnery officer, the crew scrambled to their feet and, braving all manner of divine spectacles, adjusted the broadside angle to prepare the cannons.

"Om ma—... Boom! Boom! Boom!"

In the mist, the Guanyin Six-Syllable Mantra had barely been half-chanted when the Lingcang's broadside cannons thundered, drowning out the remaining Buddhist invocations. The Zhejiang navy, busy in worship, was suddenly struck by cannon fire—shells screamed past overhead with a terrifying shriek.

One Haicang ship was hit on deck, and two or three devoutly kneeling worshippers were instantly turned into splatters of flesh and blood. The soldiers around them, drenched in gore, froze for a moment before letting out bloodcurdling screams.

Amid the cannon fire and screams, the Buddhist chanting was utterly suppressed, leaving only the figure of Guanyin in the mist, coldly surveying the mortal world.

Aboard the Yuehai, Wang Yi was sincerely worshipping Buddha when cannon fire erupted beside him. He leapt up in fright and stared toward the source of the blasts.

He saw the enemy warships had sailed to the center of Lotus Flower Ocean, northeast of the Zhejiang navy, and were hammering the Zhejiang fleet's rear with broadside cannons. Several ships had already been hit; one Haicang ship was taking on water and sinking, while the rest of the warships fled in panic.

Those damned traitors—daring to commit slaughter right under Guanyin's very eyes! Do they not fear retribution?

Wang Yi hastily turned to the monk Kongji and said, "Great Master, please use your divine power to punish these sinners!"

"Amitabha. 'Or when beset by vengeful foes, each wielding blade to harm, think on Guanyin's saving grace, and kindness fills their hearts.'"

Wang Yi grew frantic: "Great Master, Guanyin's grace isn't working now! Those rebels have blood in their eyes—please, send down your divine power!"

Kongji remained unruffled and said calmly, "This is sacred Buddhist ground. Those who recklessly add to the slaughter will be dealt with by Guanyin herself. Do not worry, General."

Another moment passed, and the Buddhist chanting and radiance not only failed to give the Nan'ao army the slightest pause—they only bombarded harder.

The Zhejiang navy, gripped by fear and dread, dared not return fire and could only flee for their lives, which only emboldened the enemy ships to press closer and fire with ever more reckless abandon.

Seeing his fleet's casualties mount sharply, Wang Yi was frantic with anxiety. He ordered the navigator to steer toward the shallows to shake off the pursuit, then said to Kongji, "Great Master! Is the Bodhisattva going to do anything or not?!"

Kongji's expression was one of utter surprise as well. Hearing Wang Yi's question, he said again, "Do not worry, General—"

"Worry, worry! If the Bodhisattva doesn't act soon, this head of mine won't survive!" Wang Yi roared in fury.

Just then, the navigator exclaimed in astonishment, "The enemy... they're retreating?"

Wang Yi was startled and whipped his head around to look. He saw the Nan'ao fleet had ceased fire and was speeding across the sea under full sail, as if being chased by something. With the cannons silent, the Buddhist chanting in the mist grew clear once more—the Guanyin Six-Syllable Mantra rang out ever louder, carrying what seemed to be a hint of anger, its might awe-inspiring. Wang Yi could hardly believe his eyes. He pressed his palms together repeatedly and said, "Thank you, Great Master! Thank you, Bodhisattva!"

Kongji, however, wore a face of utter disbelief and extreme tension, urging urgently, "Quick, quick—let's go!"

Wang Yi did not understand: "Great Master, haven't the enemy retreated?"

Kongji said, "The Bodhisattva has great compassion and wishes to see no more slaughter added to this world. In any case, hurry—if we delay, it will be too late!"

Wang Yi thus ordered the remnants gathered and the fleet to pass swiftly through Lotus Flower Ocean.

Just then, another squadron of ships burst out of the mist—the Nan'ao army's Sea Wolf ships.

Wang Yi was dumbfounded. "Great Master, how are they—"

"Boom boom boom..."

His words were cut off mid-sentence by the dense thunder of Folangji cannons.

On the Nan'ao navy's new Sea Wolf ships, the Folangji cannons were fixed to the bulwark with iron rings, allowing a single soldier to rotate the gun by hand. At close range, they could aim wherever they pleased—extremely agile.

The ships were also extensively refitted with Ottoman matchlock muskets—long-ranged, powerful, and able to hook onto the bulwark to absorb recoil, perfectly complementing the Folangji cannons.

Once these Sea Wolf ships opened fire, the barrage never stopped—ammunition poured down on the Zhejiang warships like a torrential storm.

Aboard the Lingcang, Bai Qing watched through his telescope as the Sea Wolf ships made contact with the enemy, and relaxed.

On one side of the ship, the leadsman reeled in the sounding line and reported loudly, "Water depth: two zhang and three chi!"

The helmsman said, "Commander, the tide is beginning to ebb. There's still a risk of running aground—we need to head further out to sea."

Bai Qing nodded in agreement. Just moments ago, while the three Lingcang-class ships were blasting the Zhoushan navy, the leadsman had suddenly reported that the water level had dropped by one zhang.

Such a rapid ebb tide was something Bai Qing had never seen in his life. He immediately ordered the fifth-rate ships to withdraw from battle, leaving Bailangzai's Sea Wolf ships to mop up the remaining enemy. Having endured several rounds of heavy fighting and the Putuo Buddhist radiance, the Zhejiang navy had not a shred of fighting spirit left and was being chased all over the sea by the Sea Wolf ships.

The Sea Wolf ships were roughly equal in speed to the Zhejiang navy, but the Nan'ao sailors were far superior in seamanship. Through the slight edge gained with every sail change and rudder turn, they gradually caught hold of the Zhejiang fleet and refused to let go.

Amid the dense gunfire, the Buddhist chanting was completely inaudible. The sky cleared, the Buddhist radiance vanished without a trace, and the fog over the sea slowly dispersed.

Aboard the Yuehai, Wang Yi commanded his flagship to keep firing. Thanks to the advantage of its red barbarian cannons, the enemy Sea Wolf ships dared not approach for the moment.

But any other Zhejiang warship that was caught by the Sea Wolf ships was immediately met with utter catastrophe.

Gunfire poured wantonly into the hulls—in the time it takes to smoke a pipe, a Cangshan ship could be riddled like a beehive.

Some ships, seeing no hope of escape, turned hard to starboard and ran aground on the mudflats of Zhoushan Island, the crews leaping overboard to flee. More chose to lower sails and raise white flags in surrender.

Watching his warships dwindle by the moment, Wang Yi said to the monk Kongji, "Great Master, what do we do now?"

"Son of a bitch! A pack of capsized bastards!" Kongji shed his solemn Buddhist countenance, his face flushed red as he burst into foul curses.

The sheer contrast left Wang Yi stunned for a moment.

Before he could react, Kongji swiftly stripped off his kasaya robe, then leapt over the side of the ship—a splash sounded from the rail.

Realizing he had been duped, Wang Yi roared in fury, "Shoot that bald donkey dead!"

Soldiers rushed to the rail and peered at the water—they saw only ripples and bubbles. Of Kongji, there was no trace.

"Regional Commander, what do we do?"

The dark clouds dispersed, a northwest wind rose over the sea, and the mist gradually faded.

Wang Yi swept his gaze around. Fewer than fifty ships remained gathered near the flagship, and most were battered wrecks.

In the Zhejiang fleet's wake stretched a trail of sunken ships, corpses, and shattered planks—a scene of utter carnage.

The Nan'ao Sea Wolf ships pursued the Zhejiang navy like hyenas, harrying them relentlessly.

And ahead, in the open sea, the galleons lay in wait, watching hungrily.

As the Sea Wolf ships drew closer, Wang Yi noticed their crewmen all wore padded jackets—thicker than those his own men wore.

The water used to cool the Folangji breech chambers was already steaming with rolling vapor. Some enemies wiped sweat as they fought; others simply stripped off their padded jackets and fought in just the thin inner tunics beneath.

Wang Yi was nearly spitting blood—could it be that even the news about the enemy lacking cotton-padded clothing was false?

His subordinates had questioned more than a dozen Zhoushan fishermen and repeatedly verified the truth of the information. How could this also be false?

Could it be that Zhoushan fishermen were helping the rebels deceive the government troops?

With the battle having reached this point, Wang Yi truly wanted to cry but had no tears. Thinking of his disastrous defeat—losing his troops and territory—he knew that returning to shore meant death anyway, so he might as well do it himself for a cleaner end. He had just drawn his waist knife.

When he heard the navigator say: "That bald donkey is swimming westward—he wants to go ashore!"

Wang Yi looked to the west and indeed spotted a gleaming head on the distant sea surface.

"What a villain!" Wang Yi gnashed his teeth, then said in rapid succession, "Lower the sails—let's surrender!"

The officers and soldiers on the entire ship had long been inclined to surrender. Nan'ao had been infiltrating Zhejiang for a long time, and from top to bottom, the whole province yearned for what was called "the Helmsman's rule." Moreover, serving as a soldier in Nan'ao paid higher wages, paid in full, and even provided clothing, food, and daily necessities—never in arrears, and no superior officer arbitrarily beat or exploited them. Nan'ao also had a good reputation, beloved by the common people. Even if they surrendered, their families back home would not be discriminated against—they might even be envied. Perhaps one day they could bring their families to Nan'ao to enjoy a good life.

So why keep fighting?

The moment Wang Yi finished speaking, the sails on all three masts of the Yuehai were lowered, and a white flag that had long been prepared was hoisted high.

The soldiers set down their weapons, withdrew their cannons, turned the gun muzzles around, and then all knelt neatly in the center of the deck—their movements smooth and practiced.

When the ships of the entire Zhejiang naval fleet saw the flagship surrender, they all ceased resistance, lowering sails, raising white flags, and turning their cannons inward, quietly awaiting the Nan'ao sailors to board. As the Nan'ao soldiers came aboard, Wang Yi stared fixedly at the bald head on the sea and said to the soldier binding him: "There's another bald donkey over there—that man is a demon monk. Whatever you do, don't let him escape!"

The soldier looked in the direction where Kongji had fled, laughed once, and said: "You don't think we don't have people on shore, do you?"

Hearing this, Wang Yi felt relieved and allowed himself to be bound by the Nan'ao soldiers without resistance.

Although the Zhejiang fleet had been sailing close to shore, it was still a large fleet, not a small skiff—their course remained over a thousand paces from the actual coastline. Now it was deep winter, and they had just encountered a cold snap. The seawater was bitingly cold. Kongji, enduring the bitter cold and the offshore current, barely managed to swim to shore, utterly exhausted.

When the northwest wind blew, his whole body trembled, his teeth chattered uncontrollably, and his manhood shrank almost into his belly from the cold.

Kongji wrapped his arms around his chest, curled up his body, his upper and lower teeth clattering like a fast-tapping clapperboard as he trudged with difficulty through the tidal flats, one deep step after another. "Achoo!" Having spent the entire night in the cold wind to maintain the image of a great monk, Kongji was now showing signs of a chill, his body extremely weakened. But to stay alive, he dared not pause his steps even for a moment. He finally made it out of the tidal flats and looked ahead.

Five or six Nan'ao soldiers were waiting for him at their leisure.

They were all dressed in dark green padded jackets, holding flintlock muskets, the bayonets at the muzzles reflecting sunlight that dazzled the eyes.

Kongji immediately put on a carefree, composed expression, pressed his palms together, and said: "Amitabha. This humble monk set out to sea this morning bound for Hangzhou, and unfortunately lost my way in the fog, drifting here by chance. I humbly ask several benefactors... Achoo!"

One soldier said: "Cut the nonsense. Cooperate and let us tie you up, and you'll suffer less!"

"Yes, yes!" Kongji had no choice but to comply.

After the soldiers bound Kongji, they tossed him among the group of prisoners.

An hour later, someone came to take him away, and he was brought by a roundabout route to the Zheng He.

In the sterncastle of the Zheng He, Lin Qian was interrogating Wang Yi, Xu Jian, and Li Wending.

These three were respectively the Zhejiang Regional Commander, the Ningshao Vice Regional Commander, and the Zhoushan Assistant Regional Commander—essentially all the Ming military officers in charge of the Zhoushan region had been captured by Lin Qian. Only then did Wang Yi, kneeling on the ground, speak: "Helmsman, the combined forces of Zhoushan's guard stations and camp soldiers' naval troops totaled over twenty thousand men. After removing those on the phantom payroll and those transferred away by Governor Yuan, barely five thousand remain.

The forces under my personal command number over three thousand—already the last elite naval force in the entire province. The remaining two thousand are all old, weak, sick, and disabled, and the warships are all battered and broken, with barely a few Folangji cannons among them. Holding the coastal waters is already a pipe dream; invading Zhoushan is absolutely impossible.

If the Helmsman advances now, then there is not a single spot along the Zhejiang coast that cannot be landed upon, not a single place that cannot be taken. I am willing to serve as the vanguard!"

Xu Jian grew frantic upon hearing this and quickly said: "I feel the same!"

Li Wending was dumbfounded. He had surrendered the earliest, but when it came to the thoroughness of surrender, he was far behind his two superiors.

Lin Qian sat behind the long table and asked: "Where did the red barbarian cannons on the ship come from? How many more ships with cannons added like this are there?"

Xu Jian rushed to answer: "Reporting to the Helmsman, they were all cast for Zhejiang when Wei Zhongxian, that eunuch dog, was in power. Adding them to the ships was also his faction's idea, specifically to guard against the Helmsman—his intentions deserve death!

The number of red barbarian cannon ships is not large. Aside from the Yuehai and the Yongjing, there are three more, all of which were transferred to Jiangxi by Yuan Chonghuan."

Wang Yi added: "Counterfeit Sea Wolf ships have existed for a long time. After the Fuzhou campaign, when the Helmsman's Sea Wolf ships displayed their might, from that point on, the imperial court's naval forces all began producing imitations."

red barbarian cannons had to be newly cast, so not many could be produced in a short time.

But Folangji cannons—the Great Ming had been casting them on a massive scale since the Jiajing era, for nearly a hundred years now. Not only were they cast in enormous quantities, but their models had also undergone many improvements. Equipping them on Haicang ships cost virtually nothing—truly a case of quantity over quality, plenty to go around.

Li Wending finally found a chance to interject and hurriedly added: "Most of those red barbarian cannons were imitations made by Sun Yuanhua in Liaodong.

Among the Denglai naval forces, there are even more cannon ships equipped with red barbarian cannons, and nearly every Haicang ship has been fitted with Folangji cannons.

In the military, red barbarian cannon ships are commonly called 'Shock Sea Tigers,' and the counterfeit Sea Wolf ships are called 'Swift Wolf Boats.'"

Wang Yi racked his brains, then suddenly said: "Oh, right—this general also heard that several shipyards in Zhejiang and South Zhili are working on a new type of vessel called the 'Fan Ship,' modeled after the clinker-built ships, with cannon ports opened on the sides. Rumor has it that a single ship can carry thirty red barbarian cannons. But the ship is still in trial construction—no completed vessel exists yet."

Shock Sea Tiger, Swift Wolf Boat, Fan Ship.

Lin Qian silently recited these three names, thinking to himself that the Ming army's tactical progress was actually quite fast.

Thinking back to the great victory at Fuzhou, when the Nan'ao navy had shone so brilliantly—that was only six years ago.

In six years, they had managed to shift the Great Ming naval forces, whose primary tactics were fire attacks and boarding actions, toward broadside cannon warfare. That was truly no small feat.

But objectively speaking, there was nothing to worry about—the Great Ming simply did not have enough financial resources to build a navy.

Historically, the Ming court had never equipped the Fan Ship. Rather, it was Zheng Zhilong who developed and expanded this Chinese-style broadside cannon warship.

Even putting oneself in their shoes—if the Great Ming truly did build the Fan Ship, the gap between the Ming navy and the Nan'ao fleet would merely shift from "a frog at the bottom of a well seeing the moon" to "a mayfly in a wine cup glimpsing the blue sky."

The technological moat Nan'ao had built over ten years, plus Lin Qian's design concepts spanning several hundred years of progress, could not be caught up to through imitation alone.

At that moment, a personal guard came to report: "Helmsman, that demon monk has been captured."

The three men kneeling on the ground exchanged glances.

Lin Qian said: "Bring him in."

A moment later, Kongji—his face frozen stiff and his tongue numb from cold—was brought in bound hand and foot, and made to kneel on the ground.

Lin Qian studied him for a while, then said: "Those tricks of playing with ghosts and gods—how did you do them? Explain yourself."

Kongji tried his best to kneel up straight and said shivering: "Amitabha. Several days ago, a flock of birds fell into this old monk's temple. From the birds' mouths, this old monk learned that the General had led troops into Zhoushan, slaughtering wantonly. This old monk could not bear to see the General..."

Halfway through his words, Kongji let out a miserable scream as Geng Wu struck him across the cheek with a scabbard.

Kongji was knocked sideways, his cheek swelling up high with a scabbard-shaped mark. His nose bled, his lips split open—utterly pitiful. Lin Qian said calmly: "I hear that Buddhist light often appears in these waters, and your temple has countless believers and thriving incense offerings. You must have used these cheap tricks of the rivers and lakes to deceive quite a few people, haven't you?"

"This old monk..."

"Hm?" Geng Wu's gaze shot over.

Kongji shrank back and finally said: "General, spare my life! I was only trying to earn a meal..."

Geng Wu said: "Keep talking."

"Yes, yes. My family has fished for generations on Daishan, and I know the waters and weather around Zhoushan well. On the west shore of Zhoushan's main island, around Putuo Island, and along Daishan Island's south coast, there are countless sea-erosion caves.

These caves are wide outside and narrow inside, shaped like a trumpet. Every time the spring tide comes, tidal sounds echo from within the caves. When heavy fog sets in, the tidal sounds can be heard ten li away, and since the source cannot be located, it fills people with dread.

So I thought that on foggy days, I could play music and chant sutras inside the caves. When the sea merchants around heard it, they would think the Bodhisattva had manifested, and go to the temples to make offerings.

I told this method to the master at Putuo Mountain, and the master took me in. Using this divine power, we earned some incense money..."

"What a villain!" Xu Jian roared in fury. Had Kongji not been bound, he might have already gone up and strangled him to death.

Generally speaking, fog impedes the transmission of sound—but Zhoushan was exactly the opposite.

Zhoushan's fog is mainly advection fog. When this kind of fog forms, the atmosphere has an inversion structure—cold below, warm above—which refracts sound waves dispersing into the upper air back down to the ground, allowing them to travel farther horizontally. This is what is meant by "when heavy fog sets in, sound carries ten li."

The fog on the sea in this battle had the scientific name "sea smoke"—called "sea boiling" in the Ming—which normally impedes sound transmission. However, after the cold wave passed, warm advection still remained aloft, forming an even stronger inversion layer, which instead made sound travel even farther.

This special kind of fog rarely appears inland; it only occurs in coastal island areas similar to Zhoushan.

Although Lin Qian vaguely understood the principle of fog carrying sound, since he had not lived there year-round, he still could not have thought of the trick of using tidal-sound caves and inversion layers to play at ghosts and gods. Indeed, even while watching the battle, when he heard the Buddhist chanting, he himself was dazed for a moment.

"And the Buddha's light?" Wang Yi ground his back teeth.

Kongji said: "That was several bronze mirrors as tall as a man concentrating light onto the fog. The Guanyin statue was carved from wood. That trick was my master's idea—my master was accepted by the grand-master precisely because he thought of it..."

"Heh, you certainly have a tradition of passing things down." Lin Qian said sarcastically.

Li Wending was stunned by what he heard, and asked: "So then, that 'Iron Lotus Blocking the Wokou'—those stories of General Yu the Great slaying Japanese pirates—they're all fake too?" Kongji immediately argued: "Those are real! That was my grand-master's doing! The terrain beneath Lotus Flower Ocean is rugged. At high tide the water is deep enough for large Fujian junks, but at low tide, some places can even run fishing boats aground.

My grand-master used that trick to lure the wokou onto a sandbar in Lotus Flower Ocean. It happened to be low tide, and from afar, the water around the wokou looked deep enough, yet they simply could not move their ships."

After the Buddha's sound and light both failed, Kongji had wanted to use his grand-master's trick to run the Nan'ao fleet aground—but unexpectedly, the Nan'ao fleet noticed the ebbing tide, withdrew their gunboats, and switched to shallow-draft vessels to continue the pursuit, routing the Zhejiang fleet.

Lin Qian asked those around him, then said: "The iron lotus wrapping ships is also a common scam in this area. So then, starting from your grand-master, you lot have been running cons?

No wonder you're so young yet call yourself 'this old monk,' and even use your grand-master's dharma name—passed down through the lineage, is it?"

"No!" Kongji said immediately. "My grand-master devoted himself to Buddhism, lived a life of purity and few desires his entire days, strictly observed the precepts—he was a truly enlightened eminent monk!" Wang Yi sneered: "A pity that the descendants of an enlightened eminent monk are all swindlers and con artists. Helmsman, let me cut down this bald donkey!" Xu Jian, wanting both to show loyalty and to vent his killing rage, also rushed to say: "Helmsman, untie one of my hands—I can kill him with one hand! This pack of bald donkeys has been running scams here, cheating who knows how many devout believers out of their offerings, blaspheming the gods, deceiving the world—they truly deserve death!"

Lin Qian said leisurely: "Nan'ao has its own laws. Criminals must go through proper trial. Don't worry—not a single monk who has done evil will escape, and it won't be just Kongji!"

In this era, Putuo Mountain had two large temples, over two hundred small nunneries, meditation rooms, and thatched hermitages, with nearly a thousand monks.

Among them were both good and bad—some built roads, constructed dikes, worked military farmland, and relieved disaster victims.

But there were also large numbers of monks who swindled and deceived their believers. Besides fabricating Buddha's sounds and lights, they also induced believers into self-mutilating ascetic practices, such as burning the crown of the head, burning the arms, burning fingers, and so on.

Since Nan'ao now controlled Zhoushan, this chaos could no longer be tolerated. After investigation, not a single one of these bastards would escape.

The day after the great battle, Lin Qian left garrison troops in Zhoushan and mobilized craftsmen to build and repair cannons, while the main force returned to Nan'ao with the captives and captured warships.

At the same time, the high officials below the Governor in Hangzhou learned of what had happened from the fishermen.

For a moment, the Governor seemed to have had his soul sucked out of him, collapsing limp in his chair, unmoving.

The Provincial Administration Commissioner, the Provincial Surveillance Commissioner, the Regional Military Commissioner, and all the other high officials looked as if they had lost both father and mother.

The Zhejiang fleet had been utterly annihilated!

The Regional Commander, Vice Regional Commander, and Assistant Regional Commander had surrendered; a large number of warships and cannons had fallen into enemy hands; Zhoushan was completely beyond recovery.

To them, this news was a bolt from the blue.

Losing Zhoushan in the first place might have only meant demotion and loss of salary as punishment from the court—but now, execution and confiscation of property were both possible.

Moreover, according to the fishermen's account, during the battle, Buddha's light blazed across Lotus Flower Ocean and Buddha's chanting entered the ears—a grand spectacle of the Bodhisattva manifesting.

Hearing this description, the Governor secretly wondered—could the monk Kongji truly possess divine powers?

But then he heard the fishermen say that within the Buddha's light, the Nan'ao fleet's cannons thundered without cease, showing no mercy! Damn it! Shelling the Bodhisattva?

What kind of demonic fiend was this?

After one great battle, the Nan'ao demons had won a complete victory, the eminent monk Kongji had vanished without a trace, the Zhejiang fleet was utterly annihilated—even the Bodhisattva had withdrawn her divine powers and hidden herself in the heavens. Was the world turning upside down?

The Governor's heart churned with shock and rage. Just as he was at a loss, he heard that the Provincial Administration Commissioner was again complaining about Yuan Chonghuan—and suddenly a flash of inspiration struck.

Yuan Chonghuan held concurrent authority over Zhejiang and had also drawn personnel from the Zhejiang fleet. For this defeat, Yuan Chonghuan could not escape blame for abusing his authority, neglecting his duties, and holding office without doing anything.

Since they were already backed into a corner—they couldn't defeat the Nan'ao fleet in battle, but could they not at least impeach a young and arrogant Governor-General?

At this thought, the Governor cried out: "Bring me brush and ink!"

He then began writing a memorial impeaching Yuan Chonghuan on the spot. After completing a first draft, he passed it around the room for everyone to read and polish.

Normally, the Governor held a higher office, and subordinates should not find fault with a superior's memorial—but with their lives and property at stake, they could not afford to stand on ceremony, and one after another spoke frankly with suggestions.

The memorial was revised repeatedly for wording, meticulously polished, and took an entire afternoon before it was finally completed.

The various high officials affixed their signatures beneath it, then dispatched a messenger to send it off.

Pen