Chapter 321: Ganzhou in Peril, New Levies Imposed

This scene was almost exactly the same as the one at the foot of Jilin Cliff.

While Lei Sanxiang was still in a daze, a personal guard came to report: "Commander, a force of several thousand has slipped away through the gap on the western side."

Lei Sanxiang frowned and said, "What's going on with Old Zhao?"

Old Zhao was Zhao Shuwei, the Mobile Corps Commander of the Third Battalion of the Great Xia Army. According to last night's deployment, the mountain ridges on the western flank of the Ming camp were precisely Old Zhao's defense sector.

Before the main assault last night, no signal flare had been seen from Zhao, and now he had let people escape through his sector—this greatly displeased Lei Sanxiang.

The guard said in a low voice: "Last night, the Ming army sent their Zhensuan soldiers and household retainers to seize the western ridges ahead of time. General Zhao could not take the position for a time, so he personally led the charge and was killed in battle——"

"What?" Lei Sanxiang was shocked and pressed further: "How many men died in total? Report in detail!"

"After repelling several of our attacks, the Zhensuan soldiers saw the Ming camp fall and retreated into the northwestern mountains. The Third Battalion did not fight them much—over five hundred dead and wounded."

Lei Sanxiang was silent for a moment, then said, "Gather the soldiers' remains and bury them properly."

"Yes!" The guard acknowledged the order and withdrew.

Lei Sanxiang had been a soldier himself and knew a peculiar trait of the Ming army: in battles of ten thousand or more they were a complete mess, but in fights of a few hundred or a thousand they were ferociously strong—the exact opposite of the Tartars beyond the passes.

Yesterday on the western mountain, the numbers had been in the thousands, and the Ming army had held the terrain advantage—that was why they had suffered a loss.

Zhensuan was located near Wuling Mountain, at the border between Han and Miao territories. Because of the constant warfare there, the local people were extremely fierce and skilled in combat.

The Zhensuan soldiers were an elite force recruited from this region. They fought with poisoned crossbows, javelins, and long sabers. Every recruit had trained in martial arts since childhood, making each man exceptionally strong as an individual. Known as invincible in the mountains, they were completely different from ordinary Ming troops—a product of the Ming army's extreme emphasis on elite specialization.

Lei Sanxiang lowered his head in thought, silently reasoning that Zhu Dadian had deployed the Zhensuan soldiers to hold the western mountain last night, likely to preserve an escape route for his main army. He simply hadn't expected the Ming army to collapse so quickly—even Zhu Dadian himself had lost his composure, taken the field in person, and been cut down by Lei Sanxiang's own hand.

At this thought, Lei Sanxiang shouted, "Summon Tang Qing!"

The guard went to relay the order. Before long, a sturdy man walked over through the mountain of corpses and sea of blood, and clasped his hands in salute: "Commander."

This man was Tang Qing, a Battalion Commander of the Mountain Corps. He was a She person from the Wuyi Mountains who harbored intense hatred for the Ming court. When Lin Qian drove out the Ming officials and delivered salt to the Wuyi mountain region, letting his people eat cheap salt and earn a good living through the tea trade, Tang Qing had enlisted. After performing excellently, he was selected for advanced study at the military academy, and was now a second-year student at the Army School.

Tang Qing had grown up in the mountains and forests, crossing ridges and peaks as easily as walking on flat ground. The fact that the Army had been able to march day and night through the mountains without losing its way was entirely thanks to his Mountain Corps clearing the path ahead.

When Zhu Dadian sent Night Scouts and household retainers up the eastern mountain, it was Tang Qing who led the Mountain Corps to drive them back, allowing the Army's main force to securely occupy the high ground.

Lei Sanxiang explained the situation with the Zhensuan soldiers, then said, "Take the Mountain Corps and follow behind, scouting the enemy's movements for the main force. Do not act rashly, understood?"

"Yes!" Tang Qing clasped his hands and departed swiftly.

Before dusk, the Mountain Corps sent word: the Zhensuan soldiers had been scared out of their wits and fled over sixty li in one breath.

Lei Sanxiang was speechless upon hearing this. At that fleeing speed, even if the New Army grew wings they could not catch up. He could only set this account aside for now and recalled Tang Qing.

Meanwhile, after a rough day-long tally, the results of this battle were also compiled.

At a high point on the edge of the battlefield, the army scribe said: "Reporting to the Commander: in this battle we suffered over seven hundred dead and wounded.

The Ming army suffered over thirteen thousand dead and wounded, with over five thousand captured and another four thousand or more fleeing.

We seized over three hundred war horses, over four hundred various chariots, eighty-seven Folangji cannons, forty-two tiger-crouch cannons, over three hundred muskets, over five hundred three-barreled guns, over ten thousand jin of gunpowder—and countless weapons, armor, grain, tents, and other goods."

Compared to the Great Xia Army's equipment, the Ming army's weapons, armor, firearms, and cannons were all crudely made. Their gunpowder was of low purity and much of it had absorbed moisture and clumped into lumps. Of all the spoils, only the military grain and war horses were truly serviceable.

But the greatest gain of this battle was not these mundane goods—it was the complete annihilation of the Ming army's field forces in Jiangnan.

After this engagement, Ganzhou had become a completely isolated city. No Ming army would ever come to its rescue; breaching the walls was only a matter of time.

And the twenty thousand Ming troops in Ganzhou were the last shred of strength the Ming court had in Jiangxi. Once Ganzhou fell, the Great Xia Army could sail down the Gan River, take Ji'an and Nanchang, and then occupy all of Jiangxi with ease.

Lei Sanxiang looked out over the battlefield. More than half the corpses had yet to be buried. The blood had already dried, and the entire stretch of land, along with the Longhua River, was a dark red.

Fighting and killing took only a single night, but clearing the battlefield and burying the dead would take five or six days.

The army scribe added: "Also, according to a report from Huangtugang, Commander Zhang's First Battalion also routed a Ming force of five thousand, killing over three thousand and seizing countless supplies."

At these words, the other commanders were greatly astonished. Holding off a five-thousand-man attack with just one thousand men was already nearly impossible—but to rout the enemy and kill three times one's own numbers was simply beyond belief.

Lei Sanxiang grinned and said, "Commander Zhang is quite the talent. Write up the battle report and the meritorious commanders into a military dispatch, and send it to Guangzhou."

Lei Sanxiang said, "Also, relay my orders: leave five hundred men to continue clearing the battlefield. The main army will rest for one night and march at dawn tomorrow, returning to the walls of Ganzhou."

"Yes!" All the commanders clasped their hands together.

The next morning, Lei Sanxiang led the main army south along the Longhua River valley, with the Mountain Corps still clearing the way ahead.

When they had come, they had disembarked on the Gan River and crossed the mountain ranges from the east. Now that the Ming threat had been eliminated, they could naturally choose an easier route for marching.

When they reached Huangtugang, Zhang Moye's First Battalion's First Company was dismantling their field fortifications and loading and unloading artillery. These twenty-four-pounder cannons were thunderous and unstoppable when fired, but transporting them required tremendous effort—countless oxen and horses were needed just to drag them through the muddy ground.

Lei Sanxiang linked up his main force with Zhang Moye's troops, rested for one night, and then continued marching toward Ganzhou.

Inside Ganzhou city, there had originally been twenty thousand troops. After Yuan Chonghuan's death, mutual suspicion had spread through the army. The Gan troops and Zhe troops had joined forces to slaughter the two thousand Guanning troops, leaving Ganzhou without any field force capable of sallying out to raid the siege camp.

With the blood debt of the Guanning troops hanging over them, the remaining Zhe troops and Gan troops also guarded against each other, and no one dared to sally out alone to raid the camp.

For this ambush on Zhu Dadian, Lei Sanxiang had used over sixteen thousand men and transferred all the siege cannons to Zhang Moye, leaving the defenses before Ganzhou's walls thin—this should have been the perfect opportunity for the Ming troops in Ganzhou to break out.

But Lei Sanxiang had used the ruse of increasing campfires to deceive the enemy, and the Ming troops, suspicious of one another, dared not sally forth. They dragged things out for three or four days, never imagining that Lei Sanxiang had already finished off Zhu Dadian and was returning with the main force.

If Yuan Chonghuan had still been alive, with the Ming units coordinating well with each other, Lei Sanxiang would never have dared to recklessly divide his forces, and Yuan Chonghuan would not have easily walked into the Longhua River valley to give the enemy an opening. Then this battle would still have been fought—it could have stalemated for at least a year or more.

If not for the Emperor in the capital "helping" them, how could the Great Xia Army have achieved such a favorable situation?

As soon as Lei Sanxiang returned to the siege camp, he had messengers inform the city of Zhu Dadian's death and the complete annihilation of the Ming army at Huangtian Duan, then made the customary call for surrender.

By this time, the siege trenches had been dug in every direction south of Ganzhou. Army soldiers could reach the moat without any obstruction, and by the method of flying kites to drop leaflets, they could easily scatter news into the city.

As the leaflets fell like snowflakes, the whole of Ganzhou soon learned of the matter.

Zhang Guowei, the Governor of Southern Gan, picked up a leaflet, his heart shuddering violently. He thought to himself: "It's over——"

Ganzhou had been under siege for only ten months, and its water routes had been cut off for only four. The city's grain reserves were still enough for eight or nine months, so running out of food was not yet a concern. But the two crushing defeats on land and water at Poyang Lake and Huangtian Duan, combined with the internecine slaughter, had driven the morale of Ganzhou city to rock bottom.

Zhang Guowei knew in his heart that the fall of Ganzhou was likely not far off. Frantic with anxiety, he wrote several memorials in succession and secretly sent them out of the city to beg the court for aid.

Taking advantage of darkness, he sent out several more—though one was intercepted by Luo Dagu's naval force, and the memorial was immediately delivered to the siege camp.

Lei Sanxiang held the memorial and read haltingly: "Er——twice losing our armies, morale shattered, weeping blood we beg Your Sagacious Majesty to swiftly send relief forces to save the southeastern half of the realm——forget it, you read it!"

"Yes." The staff officer took the memorial, read it through once, then summarized: "Commander, this is a memorial from Zhang Guowei, Governor of Southern Gan. He says the city's grain and pay are sufficient, but morale has collapsed, and he fears internal revolt is inevitable—the city will soon fall. He begs the Emperor to send reinforcements at once."

"Hahaha——what a fine string of defeatist words!" Lei Sanxiang was overjoyed at this and ordered, "Carve this memorial into a woodblock tonight, print leaflets tonight, and toss them into the city tomorrow!"

His subordinates acknowledged the order. The army's craftsmen worked through the night with great speed, and by noon the next day they had printed one thousand leaflets.

Today the northwest wind was blowing, and the leaflets were loaded onto the boats. Several dozen swallow-shaped kites flew up into the sky, and the leaflets scattered rustling down into the city with the wind.

"There are new leaflets again!" Soldiers and civilians in the city scrambled to grab and read them, while the Battalion Commanders and Company Commanders merely watched helplessly, making no move to stop it.

When Great Xia had first started dropping leaflets, the officers had ordered people to collect and destroy them. But the more leaflets Great Xia dropped, the more they piled up—before the old ones could even be picked clean, a new layer of leaflets would be plastered on top. As time went on, the officers simply let it be.

"Dividing the city for defense, day and night climbing the battlements——just as we were about to reorganize, a sudden great change occurred——what does this mean?" A common soldier stared at it for a long while, scratching his head and ears as he asked.

In the past, all Xia army leaflets had been written in plain, simple vernacular that anyone could understand at a glance. When had they ever used this kind of classical "zhi hu zhe ye" phrasing?

Fortunately, Jiangxi had a flourishing literary culture, and the city was filled with educated scholars. After these men read the leaflets, they were instantly struck with alarm: "This is Governor Zhang's memorial to the court begging for reinforcements—has the situation in Ganzhou city really deteriorated to such a state?"

To maintain stability, the Ming army naturally propagandized to the city's populace that the garrison was strong and well-supplied, and that Ganzhou was as impregnable as iron and stone.

But Zhang Guowei, in order to draw the court's attention, had not only laid out the full truth in his memorial, but had also employed a bit of rhetorical embellishment, describing the situation as somewhat more severe than it actually was.

This all became Lei Sanxiang's weapon for shattering Ganzhou's morale. Public sentiment surged, the army grew ever more dispirited, and the contradictions between the Zhejiang and Jiangxi forces deepened, with the potential for an accidental clash at any moment.

Zhang Guowei's heart was filled with utter despair. He had exhausted every trick and employed every means at his disposal, yet in the end, he had only brought the day of the city's fall closer.

In early February, the capital received urgent dispatches from Jiangxi.

At the platform of the Forbidden City, the Chongzhen Emperor flew into a thunderous rage, sweeping everything on the imperial desk to the floor in a shattering crash.

"Zhu Dadian, that great Zhu! Nearly thirty thousand elite troops, lost in one fell swoop! This is the worthy talent recommended by the Grand Secretariat—just such a greedy, stupid, incompetent fool?"

The Chongzhen Emperor roared without restraint, while the five Grand Secretaries of the Grand Secretariat knelt below, foreheads pressed to the ground, not daring to utter a single word in reply.

Zhou Yanru's heart was filled with bitterness. Among the candidates originally recommended by the Grand Secretariat had been five men—Hong Chengchou, Cao Wenzhao, Sun Yuanhua, Lu Xiangsheng, and Zhu Dadian. Although Zhu Dadian was well-versed in military classics, he lacked field command experience, and so had been ranked last.

It was the Emperor himself who had rejected the other four and personally selected Zhu Dadian. Now that something had gone wrong in Jiangxi, he was blaming the Grand Secretariat for everything.

Zhou Yanru felt nothing but bitterness and a profound sense of injustice. Only now did he understand how difficult it was to be Chief Grand Secretary. So Han Kuang and Qian Longxi had their own difficulties too—and suddenly, the Donglin Faction no longer seemed so odious to him.

And below Zhou Yanru, Wen Tiren, the current Second Grand Secretary, could not suppress the corners of his mouth from curling upward. A defeat in Jiangxi—how wonderful. With this defeat, Zhou Yanru's tenure as Chief Grand Secretary was surely at an end. This seat was finally going to be his turn.

"Thirty thousand elite troops annihilated, and Ganzhou will have no more reinforcements. If Ganzhou falls, the lands of southern Jiangxi will fall into the hands of the rebels. How will you answer to the people of the realm!"

The Chongzhen Emperor roared in stern rebuke.

"If the rebels continue northward, attacking Ji'an and Nanchang, or striking east into Zhejiang, and the court loses territory and armies, and the situation in Jiangnan collapses—how will you conduct yourselves then?"

The more the Chongzhen Emperor spoke, the angrier he grew, practically pointing at the back of Zhou Yanru's head as he cursed.

Although Wen Tiren also put on a show of fear, inwardly he grew ever more gleeful, thinking to himself that this time Zhou Yanru truly could not escape his doom.

Unexpectedly, Zhou Yanru took a deep breath, kowtowed respectfully, and said: "Zhu Dadian was recommended by the Grand Secretariat, and his marching route was also approved by the Grand Secretariat in consultation. This military defeat is truly the Grand Secretariat's responsibility. As Chief Grand Secretary, I cannot shirk the blame.

Before coming before Your Majesty, I have already written the full account of this matter's causes and consequences into a memorial of resignation and submitted it to the proper authorities. I humbly beg Your Majesty to grant me permission to retire and return to my hometown."

In a place the Grand Secretaries could not see, the Chongzhen Emperor's face, which had been swollen purple with rage, suddenly improved greatly.

Whether Zhou Yanru resigned or not, he did not particularly care. But the Chief Grand Secretary's memorial of resignation would be published in the Capital Gazette—especially such an important piece of news as resigning to take responsibility for the Jiangxi defeat. It would cause an uproar throughout court and country and attract plenty of attention.

In this way, wouldn't the world clearly understand that the defeat was all due to Zhu Dadian's incompetence and the Grand Secretariat's failure of oversight?

Wouldn't his own sagely brilliance remain undamaged?

Chongzhen was still not reassured, and secretly glanced at Wang Chengen, the brush-holder of the Directorate of Ceremonial.

Wang Chengen gave a slight nod, indicating that what Zhou Yanru had said was true.

Chongzhen's attitude immediately softened: "This defeat is all due to Zhu Dadian's errors in command. Although Grand Secretary Zhou recommended a mediocrity, it was merely a momentary lapse of judgment. You are fined one year's salary as punishment. Do be more diligent in the future.

Now that the state is in peril and this is precisely a time when talent is needed, if the Grand Secretary were to resign because of this villain, it would truly be a loss to the nation. I hope the Grand Secretary will remain and continue to share my burdens."

Zhou Yanru immediately seized the opportunity to climb down, and said with a choked voice: "Your servant kowtows in gratitude for Your Majesty's grace."

The smile on Wen Tiren's face froze, and he thought to himself: "He actually got through this? It seems that to topple Zhou Yanru, a disastrous defeat at the front isn't enough—I'll have to manufacture some major cases!"

After the Chongzhen Emperor had vented his temper, it was back to routine court business.

Affected by the war, Jiangxi's grain production had plummeted, and Huguang's grain was also difficult to transport due to the naval battle on Poyang Lake and the Xia army's control of the Yangtze waterway. Now in the Ming's Jiangnan, only South Zhili and Zhejiang could still supply grain to the north.

It was currently the spring famine season. Last autumn's grain was exhausted, and the new harvest had not yet arrived. Famine was erupting everywhere in North China and the Northwest. Wang Jiayin's rebel band had taken advantage of this to conscript a vast number of famine refugees, swelling their ranks to as many as five hundred thousand.

The court's military strength in the Northwest was already stretched thin and difficult to withstand. Yang He, the Governor-General of the Three Borders, had proposed a strategy centered on pacification and amnesty, hoping to divide and disintegrate the enemy forces and cause them to collapse without a fight.

But the problem now was that the court had no money—the Jiangnan moneybags had all been punched through by the rebel Lin.

The gist of Chongzhen's words was that he wanted to add a new levy on top of the Liaodong levy and the suppression levy, but he was unwilling to say so directly.

The Grand Secretaries all knew that the court and the common people had already reached an irreconcilable state. Whoever dared to propose raising taxes would surely be reviled for ten thousand years. None dared to take up the thread.

After a moment, it was Zhou Yanru again who stepped forward and said: "Your Majesty, the two battles on land and water in Jiangxi have wiped out the elite forces of Jiangnan. Your servant believes we should train a new army to pacify the rebels. Since we must train a new army, it is fitting that we add a levy."

As soon as these words were spoken, Chongzhen and Wen Tiren both looked at him with newfound respect.

Chongzhen hesitated for a moment, then said: "The people of the realm have long been burdened by the Liaodong levy and the suppression levy. If we add yet another levy, I fear the common people will find life difficult."

Zhou Yanru could only steel himself and say: "Your Majesty, the new levy would all be assessed on the fields, and the fields all belong to the landlord families. It would not harm the poor common folk. Adding a slight levy per mu might even curb land annexation. It would not harm the people."

Chongzhen pondered for a long while, and finally let out a long sigh: "Since that is so, we can only trouble the people for one more year. Have the Grand Secretariat and the Ministry of War draft a proposal."

"Yes." Zhou Yanru acknowledged with a face full of bitterness.

After finishing the discussion on the new levy, the weight lifted from Chongzhen's shoulders, and he moved on to discussing the disposition of Zhu Dadian.

Thirty thousand elite troops of Jiangxi had been completely lost. The Emperor had failed in his choice of men, and the Grand Secretariat had failed in its judgment of talent. Neither had committed any great error, but someone had to take the blame to divert the attention of the scholars and the populace. Otherwise, the small mistakes of the Emperor and the Grand Secretariat would become great ones.

Chongzhen tactfully indicated that Zhu Dadian should be convicted.

But Zhou Yanru said: "Your Majesty, Governor Zhu died fighting for the state. To convict him now would be overly harsh. Moreover, the man is already dead—it would be difficult to appease public outrage that way.

Your servant believes that the root cause of this defeat lies in the Zhenshuan Vice Regional Commander's troops fleeing the battlefield. Our army's formation collapsed and morale shattered as a result. Your servant requests that Governor Zhu be given posthumous honors, and that Vice Regional Commander Yang Zhengfang of Zhenshuan be severely punished!"

These words suited Chongzhen's intentions perfectly. Zhu Dadian had lost troops and generals, but he had died in battle after all. If the court granted him posthumous honors, it would demonstrate its benevolence and magnanimity.

So an edict was issued according to Zhou Yanru's proposal, and Yang Zhengfang was urgently summoned to the capital with all speed.

As for the candidate to replace Zhu Dadian as Governor-General of Jiangxi, this platform audience ultimately did not settle the matter.

At the same time, in a reed marsh along a tributary of the Pearl River, Lin Qian, wearing a thumb ring on his right hand, drew a great bow to its full extent and aimed at the sky.

Seeing that Lin Qian was ready, Geng Wu fired a blank shot into the air. With a whoosh, countless waterfowl were startled into flight.

Lin Qian's eyes were quick and his hands fast. He aimed at the waterfowl and released the bowstring. With a whistling swoosh, the arrow flew like the wind. A dozen meters to the right of his target, an unlucky waterfowl was pierced through the chest and plummeted down.

"Excellent!" Behind him, Geng Wu, Su Qingmei, and the others all clapped and cheered together.

The boatman also said, "The helmsman's archery is divine. I've ferried people hunting birds with arrows for decades, and I've never seen anyone master it in half a day. Truly miraculous."

"Hahaha, this is what they call—shooting well is no match for catching well." As Lin Qian said this, he handed the bow to Geng Wu and worked his stiff shoulders.

Archery is an extremely difficult skill, by no means something one can learn in a single afternoon. Lin Qian shot from noon until dusk, and barely managed to hit a waterfowl by luck before mealtime—naturally, he knew to quit while he was ahead.

The boatman, quick to read the situation, stepped forward to pull the line and drag the waterfowl over.

The game Lin Qian was playing was called yi-she—string-arrow hunting—the southern gentry's refined version of hunting. The method was for the hunter to tie a silk thread to the arrow, hide among the reeds, and shoot when a waterfowl flew past.

The trick was for the arrow to graze past the waterfowl, with the trailing silk thread entangling the bird, and the arrow's weight pulling it down—so the bird's skin and flesh remained unbroken, its feathers full and intact, and when roasted, one wouldn't end up with a mouthful of iron rust taste.

In terms of refinement, it was indeed more elegant than blasting birds with shot, but it was far too difficult—likely only master archers like Qin Liangyu or Mao Wenlong could manage it.

Lin Qian was already quite satisfied to have hit one waterfowl by luck.

Before long, the boatman had hauled the waterfowl aboard, holding it up and calling out, "It's a green-headed teal!"

Lin Qian looked over and saw that the waterfowl resembled a duck, but its feathers were smooth and brilliant—grayish-white body, a few blue feathers on the wings, and a dazzling green down on the head and neck. It was just a common mallard.

The boatman introduced it: "Teal is the finest wild game of the southeast, and the green-headed teal is the cream of the crop. Its meat is sweet and cool, rich without being greasy, no gamey smell—instead it carries the fragrance of reeds and water grass. The breast is firm, the leg meat fine and tender, incomparably delicious. You must try it. The helmsman not only has excellent archery, but a remarkable knack for picking waterfowl!"

He made his living ferrying Guangzhou's high officials and nobles on bird-hunting trips, so naturally he could rattle off the merits of any waterfowl at a moment's notice—and his flattery was nothing short of masterful. No doubt any waterfowl in these reeds, so long as a guest shot it, the boatman would find a way to sing its praises.

Lin Qian smiled and said, "Help me dress it."

"Right away!" The boatman acknowledged, deftly plucking the feathers and gutting the bird, thoughtfully keeping aside several beautiful blue feathers. "Will the helmsman roast it himself, or shall I?"

Lin Qian said, "This one I'll do myself. But since there are many of us, I'll trouble you to hunt and roast a few more."

"Easy enough. What kind of waterfowl does the helmsman want? There's the treasure duck, the small—" The boatman rattled on like a waiter reciting a menu.

Lin Qian said, "Just use your judgment."

"Right away." The boatman acknowledged, but didn't rush to pick up his bow. Only after Lin Qian had gone into the cabin did he draw and shoot—after a dozen or so arrows, the boat was lined with all manner of waterfowl.

Lin Qian walked into the cabin, where Ye Xianggao and his two brothers-in-law were sitting around drinking tea.

Today was the government's ten-day rest day, so Lin Qian had brought his family out for a spring outing. They had chartered several boats in total, with Ye Zhen and the other women on another vessel.

As soon as Lin Qian entered, Ye Yifan asked, "How was Your Highness's harvest?"

"Managed to hit one by luck."

"Hahaha, looks like we won't go hungry tonight!" Ye Yisun laughed.

As the group chatted, the boatman brought up the charcoal fire and the dressed green-headed teal. Lin Qian volunteered to handle the roasting. In moments, oil beaded on the teal's skin, and the aroma of roast duck filled the air—even without a single seasoning, it was enough to make one's mouth water.

Lin Qian controlled the heat while casually asking, "Is Guangdong still badly short of officials?"

Ye Yifan stared fixedly at the roasting duck and nodded: "Yes! Badly short. One man does the work of three and still can't keep up. If not for Your Highness's invitation, I'd have gone six months without a rest day—hey, don't forget to flip it, it'll burn—"

Ye Xianggao stroked his beard and said, "Guangdong and Fujian are manageable, but Guangxi was only recently taken and is even worse off for officials. Soon Jiangxi will join our rule, and I expect the shortage will only grow."

Ye Yifan said, "Provincial and prefectural officials eat the sovereign's salary and govern the people—a bit of hardship is no matter. It's the grassroots officials who are critically short, especially the village magistrate post. Not to mention the four provinces of Great Xia—even Guangzhou Prefecture itself struggles to fill all its positions."

Ye Yisun's nose kept twitching, and he complained, "Didn't we say no government talk today?"

Lin Qian said, "This isn't entirely government business—it's also big news."

Ye Xianggao already sensed something and looked at Lin Qian. Ye Yisun finally grew interested too, tearing his gaze from the roast duck to press: "What news?"

Lin Qian said, "Great Xia is restoring the imperial examinations!"

Yahei

Pink Round

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