Chapter 406: Early Spring Arrives, Good Scenes Begin

Chen Afu only heard footsteps approaching him, cold sweat streaming down his body, his heart repeating: "It's over, it's over————"

Finally the footsteps stopped behind him. Chen Afu hurriedly knelt and said: "Your subject is guilty, your subject knows his mistake————"

Lin Qian smiled: "Just one broken thread of cloth, no harm done. Rise and speak."

"Your subject, your subject————" He was still stammering when his body lightened—a bodyguard had pulled him up.

The weaving workshop master beside him looked deeply embarrassed: "Your Majesty, his name is Chen Afu, the best weaver we have. Perhaps seeing the imperial countenance startled him into clumsiness. I beg Your Majesty's forgiveness."

The workshop steward quietly went to inspect the loom and found the broken yarn uneven in thickness, snapping at a pull. He sighed with relief: "Your Majesty, this yarn was twisted off-kilter—it breaks the moment it's pulled."

Chen Afu suddenly raised his head and looked at the loom, realizing the steward spoke the truth—this roll of yarn looked even and fine on the surface, but this inner section had a problem.

This situation was actually quite common, for nine out of ten cotton yarns on the market were spun on single-spindle spinning wheels, with speed and twist entirely controlled by hand—and every man dozes and errs from time to time.

What shocked Chen Afu deeply was that the steward was actually speaking up for him before the Xia King!

He had woven cloth for half his life, broken yarn more times than he could count—never once had anyone but the steward scolded him for clumsy hands and docked his wages. No one had ever said it was the yarn's fault, and especially not said so before the Xia King.

For a moment, Chen Afu was so moved his tears nearly spilled out.

He instinctively cast a grateful glance and noticed the noble's bodyguards all wore crow-blue military uniforms—brand new, with fine tight stitching and thick, stiff fabric—clearly Songjiang cloth.

Beside the bodyguards stood the steward, beside the steward stood the workshop master, and beside the workshop master stood a crowd of officials in red and green robes. There were so many officials that even the County Magistrate could only stand at the side.

The man in the center was very young, dressed in black everyday robes, with a pair of sharp, piercing eyes that shot toward him.

Chen Afu's heart jolted again, and he hastily lowered his head.

Lin Qian went to Chen Afu's loom and examined it, praising: "Your cloth surface is even and clean, your yarn laid fine and tight—fine craftsmanship. How has your household fared lately? Any difficulties?"

Never mind that Chen Afu had no difficulties now—even if he did, he wouldn't dare say so. He shook his head repeatedly, indicating all was well.

Lin Qian asked a few more questions about everyday matters before leaving with the officials.

Chen Afu clearly saw the County Magistrate secretly wipe sweat with his sleeve—it seemed the officials great and small following the Xia King were even more nervous than he was.

The Xia King's voice came from afar: "First, in the three counties of Huating, Shanghai, and Qingpu, establish one government-supervised, merchant-run spinning mill each, with two hundred three-spindle treadle spinning wheels installed in each mill as a pilot operation.

Second, following the model of the iron-smelting guilds, establish trade associations to manage the weaver households scattered among the people, and finalize the promotion regulations for wide-width treadle looms as soon as possible————"

After the Xia King left, Chen Afu sat blankly on the loom stool, unable to collect himself for a long while, the sweat from his palms soaking the old shuttle damp.

The scolding, the punishment, even the fear for his life he had anticipated—none of it came.

His soul had nearly flown away in fright moments before, yet the Xia King spoke so genially, without the slightest royal air. Those words of warm concern and casual chat struck him square in the heart, word by word.

In the past he had heard people curse the Xia King as a butcher, but having seen him with his own eyes today, he knew his former self had been utterly wrong.

When work ended, the Xia King had already gone. The crowd lined up before the accounting office to collect their wages.

"His Majesty has decreed: for disturbing everyone today, all weavers receive an extra fifty wen in wages."

Fifty wen was no small sum—enough for a meal of stewed pork ribs, two pieces of osmanthus cake, and still enough left for a jug of good wine.

The weavers burst into cheers.

Chen Afu collected his wages, the weighty Zhongxuan Tongbao coins clutched in his hand, as if in a dream.

Father and son walked through the dusk, Chen Dashi chattering the whole way, his tone brimming with undisguisable excitement.

"Father! The Xia King said they'll build spinning mills—from now on Mother can work in the mill and earn more than spinning on a single spindle at home.

And wide-width looms with low-interest loans—if our family gets one, we can weave as much cloth in a day as one and a half bolts now!

But if we switch to our own loom at home, it won't be convenient to keep working at the weaving workshop. Whether to keep coming to the workshop or work for ourselves—that's the question————"

Chen Afu didn't reply, but his steps grew lighter and lighter.

The next day, recruitment notices for the spinning mills were posted in the city, hiring only women, with piece-rate wages paid daily and a free lunch provided.

Chen's aunt signed up that very day and started work three days later.

Before, spinning on a single-spindle wheel at home from dawn to dusk, she could spin no more than six liang of yarn a day—and what she spun wasn't even enough for her husband to weave through one night.

Now, working in the spinning mill on a three-spindle wheel, she could spin one jin eight liang a day, and after a full day's work, the money in hand was more than Chen Dashi had earned when he first joined the weaving workshop.

The household suddenly gained another steady income, and life eased at once.

That evening, the Chen couple sat at the table tallying accounts. Chen Afu wove fast and well, his skill top-notch, earning at least one hundred twenty wen a day; Chen Dashi's skill was slightly inferior, earning ninety wen a day.

Chen's aunt, after finishing breakfast and dinner each day, went to spin and could earn a hundred wen as well.

At thirty days a month, that came to over nine thousand wen—more than nine liang of silver.

The family counted on their fingers and finished with faces full of shock—this income was two or three times what they had earned before!

In the old days, they wouldn't have dared even dream of it.

Just half a month ago, they had been ready to sell Yuanyuan for ten liang of silver, when the whole family felt ten liang was a fortune and worried themselves sleepless over it.

Now ten liang of silver was merely a bit more than one month's wages————

Chen Dashi murmured: "How long has it been—and heaven has turned upside down!"

In the days that followed, the family's life grew smoother and smoother. By day the three of them went out to work, while Yuanyuan stayed home helping with the cooking.

At the old dinner table, the Chen family's daily worry had been how to repay their debts and whether to sell Yuanyuan.

Now every meal had half-polished rice, meat appeared on the table every few days, and the family's deliberations had become whether to take a loan for a wide-width loom, when to patch the leaking east wall, and whether to become permanent workers at the weaving workshop or spinning mill.

They still worked just as diligently as before, yet their days improved with each passing one—life had suddenly gained a direction.

Chen Afu was all smiles every day, except that whenever he heard someone speak ill of the Xia King, he would angrily go argue with them, always turning red-faced and thick-necked, and at the end would shout: "I've seen the Xia King with my own eyes—he's a true clear-skied lord who thinks for the people!"

Then would follow a long-winded account of the Xia King's noble bearing, his tone and demeanor—how approachable he was, how keen-eyed in discerning every detail.

Though it had been a brief encounter, a matter of a few words, Chen Afu somehow spun it into a minute, hair-raising tale, like something out of a storybook.

Every time, a crowd would gather to listen, and when he finished, it would draw gasps of amazement.

Time flew to the twelfth of the second month—the Flower Goddess Festival, the birthday of all blossoms.

According to Songjiang custom, young women of the inner chambers would cut colored silk, tie it to flower branches, and steam flower cakes on this day.

In past years of war and chaos, with life so tight, people had no time even for their own birthdays—who had the leisure to mind the flowers' birthday?

This year was different. Chen's aunt had cut several strips of red silk well in advance, and at first light she dragged Yuanyuan into the courtyard to tie peach branches.

By Songjiang custom, unmarried girls cut red silk strips and tied them to the flower branches in the courtyard, called "appreciating the red," a way of offering birthday wishes to the hundred flowers and praying for a year of lush blooms and smooth needlework.

In the corner of the Chen family courtyard grew an old peach tree, which in past years had bloomed sparsely, half-dead and listless.

This year the spring was warm, and the branches were already studded with pinkish-white buds, on the verge of bursting into full bloom.

Chen's aunt brought over a stool, Yuanyuan stepped up on it and, standing on tiptoe, tied the red silk to a slender branch. When the wind blew, the red silk fluttered and danced against the pinkish-white buds, filling the courtyard with life.

Yuanyuan wore a newly made blue cotton padded jacket, her hair combed neatly, with a freshly picked winter jasmine blossom tucked at the end of her braid. Her eyes and brows were full of a young girl's lively spirit—nowhere to be seen was the timid, fearful look she'd had when Nurse Wang came calling.

Just then, a loud wail came from the neighboring courtyard: "Yinnan? Yinnan, are you back? My girl, my girl—Mother has wronged you—"

Chen's aunt frowned and said, "What's going on over there now?"

Chen Dashi had gone to the market this morning to buy things and knew something of what was happening outside, so he said, "The children who were sold before have been found and brought back. Nurse Wang did quite a meritorious deed. We ran into each other this morning and chatted a bit."

Chen's aunt's brow smoothed, and she said repeatedly, "That's good, that's good."

Then Chen Dashi went on to tell of what he'd seen that morning: "I heard another dye house opened north of the city, specializing in dyeing raven-blue cotton cloth. They're hiring experienced workers and paying high wages.

The Great Xia Bank officially started issuing loom loans today—one percent interest, no collateral. There was a long line at the door, all people inquiring about the details."

Before long, Chen Afu also returned from outside; he had gone to the weaving workshop and the spinning mill to ask for leave.

Although the whole family were still daily-wage workers, they went every day after all, and suddenly not showing up—they feared both delaying the boss's plans and losing face, so they had made a point of going to inform them.

Unexpectedly, when he came back, Chen Afu was carrying a basket of osmanthus cakes and a catty of pork in his hands.

Chen's aunt complained, "Meat, wine, cakes, and pastries—Dashi already bought all that this morning. Why did you buy more?"

Chen Afu laughed and said, "These were gifts from the spinning mill. The manager said that for the Flower Goddess Festival the mill is closed for the day, and they gave out these things. When I went to ask for leave on your behalf, they had me bring them back along the way."

"Ah?" Everyone in the courtyard was stunned.

"A day off and they still give out things?" Chen's aunt couldn't believe it. "Since when is there such a thing as getting paid for resting?"

Chen Afu said, "The Princess Consort herself said so—how could it be false?"

"What? You saw the Princess Consort?" Chen's aunt's mouth rounded into an O.

Chen Afu smiled mysteriously and said, "I did see her. The Princess Consort remembered Yuanyuan and said she was clever and quick-witted."

Chen's aunt looked at Yuanyuan, who was at that moment chasing butterflies in the courtyard, her laughter crisp and clear, like wind chimes under the eaves.

Since coming to the Chen family, she had rarely been so joyful.

"You've met the Princess Consort?" Chen's aunt called Yuanyuan over and asked.

Yuanyuan thought for a moment, then a look of sudden realization crossed her face: "Ah! So that older sister was the Princess Consort!"

It turned out that the spinning mill was staffed entirely by women, so Ye Zhen would often go to inspect and look after it. When Yuanyuan brought ginger tea to Chen's aunt, she had run into Ye Zhen several times.

Then Yuanyuan added, "The Princess Consort is ever so beautiful, and the sisters around her are pretty too!"

Yuanyuan told the story of meeting Ye Zhen, and with Chen Afu's experience of meeting the King, no one felt particularly awed—they merely felt secretly fortunate and honored by association.

The family chatted and laughed through breakfast, then Chen Afu walked to the courtyard gate to digest his food. Watching the townsfolk rushing about spreading news, watching the dots of red silk tied on flower branches at every household, his heart felt warm.

He had lived more than forty years, seen Wanli's tax inspectors, Tianqi's eunuch faction, Chongzhen's additional levies—he had only ever seen the authorities devise ever-new ways to squeeze money from the people, never seen any court that would remember to give weaving households and women workers a day off for a festival, or remember to give the people money and cut taxes again and again.

The spring breeze carried peach blossom petals drifting past, blowing warm against one's skin. The weather was fine today.

He said, "Pack up lunch to eat on the road—let's go out of the city for a spring outing."

"Yes!" Yuanyuan agreed with both hands, volunteering to pack the things.

The family carried their bundles and walked toward the city gate, meeting many others out for the same purpose along the way. Some people, well-fed and content, sat at alley mouths, chatting idly and soaking up the sun.

In the past, when common folk gathered, their talk was invariably of the court's various failures—either cursing corrupt officials, or cursing the powerful eunuchs, or secretly cursing the dog emperor.

Now people talked only of how to earn money and how to live. Suddenly, everything had turned upside down, and the world had become something Chen Afu no longer recognized at all.

Only when some bad news came from the north did the world become real and tangible again.

"I heard the Great Ming suffered a great defeat in the northwest, and those high-ranking generals leading the troops all defected to the rebel army—"

"What rebel army? They've founded a state now, called Dashun! Or was it Daxi? Anyway, something like that."

"I heard the Jianzhou barbarians have crossed the pass again, burning, killing, and looting in the north—"

"Tsk tsk—Songjiang's cotton, a good deal of it is bought from Henan and Shandong. The weaving workshops won't collapse, will they?"

"The King will surely find a way. Why worry yourself over nothing."

Chen Afu heard these words and felt a slight unease, but when he turned his head and saw sunlight spilling over his family's smiling faces, the worry dissolved like smoke.

The realm was too far away; he only needed to guard his own small corner of the world.

This morning the Princess Consort had said that Great Xia was preparing to establish elementary schools, and the children of weaving households from the weaving workshops and spinning mills could enroll with priority.

Chen Dashi was already grown, so he had missed the chance.

But Yuanyuan was still young, clever and sharp-witted. If she could enter school and study, perhaps in the future she might marry into a respectable family, rather than being trapped at a loom suffering for the rest of her life.

Chen Afu mused thus as the family left the city. Outside the walls, in the second month of mid-spring, the grass was green and the hundred flowers were just beginning to bloom—the good days were only just beginning.

While the people of Jiangnan were celebrating the Flower Goddess Festival, Lin Qian had already returned to Guangzhou several days earlier by falcon ship.

For the Military Intelligence Office had received several urgent reports from the north in succession.

Hong Chengchou's defeat, Li Zicheng proclaiming himself emperor, Zhang Xianzhong entering Huguang—three major events arrived almost simultaneously.

While daily life in the towns of Jiangnan was growing steadily more peaceful, the situation in Great Xia's north had suddenly been thrown into complete upheaval.

The Battle of Xi'an in particular was the most unexpected—Hong Chengchou was, after all, a famous general of his generation, and his defeat had come too suddenly. A response strategy had to be discussed immediately.

So much so that Lin Qian left Ye Zhen and both sons behind in Jiangnan, returning to Guangzhou alone with only his personal guards.

The moment he disembarked, Lin Qian and Zheng Zhilong rushed without pause to the General Staff headquarters.

The General Staff duty room was a scene of bustling chaos. In the side chambers, military dispatches and maps were piled like mountains; counting rods, command flags, and vermilion ink sticks were scattered everywhere. Orderlies clutching documents hurried back and forth, their bootsteps thudding against the floorboards.

In the center of the room sat a sand table two zhang square, showing the topography of the entire north—the northwest, northeast, and the Central Plains all included. Flags and markers representing various forces were planted all over the northern terrain, interlocking like interlocking teeth in a jumbled mass.

One glance was enough to perceive that beacon fires were rising across the northern lands, with every faction locked in a ferocious struggle.

"What's the situation?" Lin Qian said.

Army Chief of Staff Xu Fengjie picked up a pointer and aimed it at the northwest. Amid encircling mountains lay the Guanzhong Plain, upon which stood the great city of Xi'an.

On the walls of Xi'an now flew a great banner bearing the character "Shun," and beneath it gathered a vast host of earth-yellow soldiers, some mounted and some on foot, most with crude equipment, but the carving was so lifelike that even the ferocious expressions of the soldiers shouting battle cries could be clearly seen.

"In the fourth year of Zhongxuan, on the first day of the second month, Li Zicheng routed Hong Chengchou in the region of Luochuan Plain, and a hundred thousand Ming troops all surrendered to the rebels.

Two days later, Li Zicheng entered Xi'an, proclaimed himself emperor, and founded the state of Great Shun."

Counting the time, this had happened ten days prior; the northwest and Jiangnan were a thousand li apart, so it would indeed take that long for word to arrive.

Lin Qian frowned and asked, "And Hong Chengchou?"

"His whereabouts are unknown; rumor has it he was captured by Li Zicheng."

Xu Fengjie paused, then said, "But regardless, with Hong Chengchou defeated, the Ming court has no more troops to stop Li Zicheng from marching east. For him to take Henan and Shanxi and attack the capital is no more than reaching into a bag to take something out.

Li Zicheng has swallowed up the Ming's northwest border troops and the Qin army, greatly strengthening his forces, with a total strength of over five hundred thousand.

Even his former subordinate Zhang Xianzhong fears his power and has led more than two hundred thousand men toward the Huguang region to avoid his edge."

As Xu Fengjie spoke, he pointed with his teaching rod; the green soldiers representing Zhang Xianzhong's forces were all clustered in the region from Xiangyang to Jingzhou, separated from Qin Liangyu's dark-cyan soldiers by only a single river.

On the walls of Xiangyang city was also planted a great banner bearing the character "Xi"—this was the temporary standard used by Zhang Xianzhong's army.

On the sand table, one soldier figure roughly represented one brigade of Great Xia.

South of the Yangtze, there were thirty-six dark-cyan soldiers, concentrated in two areas: Jiangnan and the southwest.

Zhang Xianzhong's and Li Zicheng's soldiers were far more numerous than Great Xia's.

The Ming's crimson-red soldiers numbered around twenty-odd, with most concentrated along the Liaodong front.

There was also one on the Jiaodong Peninsula—that was the Ming's last naval force, the Denglai Navy.

Apart from that, soldiers within the passes were few and far between, all scattered and cowering in Beizhili.

More precisely, they were cowering near the capital.

And the remaining prefectures and counties of Beizhili had already been occupied by three black mounted soldiers.

These soldiers were of large build, clad in cloth-faced armor, wielding powerful bows and heavy arrows, and wearing the money-rat-tail queue—one look made it clear they were Qing armies.

Xu Fengjie said, "This band of Tartars is led by Ajige, who entered the passes in the tenth month of the third year of Zhongxuan. The Ming court has no strength to drive him out, and he has been wreaking havoc in Beizhili ever since."

This was hardly news; at the time, Great Xia had been busy fighting Lu Xiangsheng, and after the war had been pacifying the localities and purging the gentry, so there was no attention to spare for the north.

Moreover, only the Two White Banners had entered the passes, totaling fewer than twenty thousand men. The Jianzhou barbarians' main force remained motionless in Liaodong, and Mao Wenlong's constant harassment made it difficult for Ajige to be recalled to reinforce them.

The situation was now perfectly clear: the Ming was on the verge of destruction, and the realm would be contested among Great Xia, Great Shun, and Great Qing.

Of course, besides the three major powers, there was also Zhang Xianzhong's Great Xi. His proactive move south into Huguang was in effect making way for Li Zicheng, signaling his abandonment of any claim to the capital—so when counting the powers contending for the realm, Great Xi was not included.

Matters having reached this point, Lin Qian could afford not a moment's hesitation—he must immediately launch the northern expedition!

Whether Li Zicheng or Hong Taiji, whichever side secured a firm hold on the north and formed a north-south standoff would spell endless trouble for Great Xia.

In the near term, once the north formed a unified government, absorbed the northern border troops, and took over the prefectures and counties, a northern expedition would become as difficult as ascending to heaven—one would have to fight bitterly for every city and every pool, paying several times the casualties and costs, and unification would be slowed by five to ten years.

In the long term, the longer the war dragged on, the more people would die in the north.

Even if the north were then taken, it would become a burden on overseas colonization, because the homeland would be covered in ownerless fertile fields—if the common people had land to till and stable lives to live, who would be willing to risk going down to the South Seas?

Even for the southern commoners, the risk of crossing the Yangtze to live in the north was lower than going to the South Seas.

Speaking pragmatically, population was wealth. Shells and cannons could be produced in a few months, and large ships of the line could be launched in a few years.

But if a people were wiped out, growing a new generation would take no less than twenty years.

Moreover, speaking from principle, Great Xia's founding tenets of pleading for the people and quelling chaos to stabilize the state were not empty slogans used to deceive.

If one paid lip service to pleading for the people in peacetime, but when it came to major matters considered one's own interests first and treated the lives of the common folk as chips in a gamble—how would that differ from the gentry vermin?

Lin Qian said in a deep voice, "Orders. First, Li Yu's Second Brigade is to withdraw from Batavia to the homeland immediately.

Second, the North Sea Fleet is to enter a state of combat readiness, all hands on standby.

Third, send envoys at once to liaise with the Denglai Navy and the Guanning Army—they must not be allowed to defect to the Qing."

Chief of Naval Staff Lu Ruoteng said, "Your Majesty, last November, two more fourth-rate ships were launched.

The North Sea Fleet now has nineteen warships in total, with a combined displacement of nearly thirteen thousand tons—enough to escort the follow-up troop transports.

Why not first send a detachment into the Bohai Bay? If the Denglai Navy complies, so be it; if not, sink them all outright, lest they defect to the Jianzhou barbarians."

Great Xia's northern expedition—mobilizing troops, preparing supplies, formulating strategy—all took time; it was impossible to send troops the moment the order was given.

That was why Lin Qian had said they must first stabilize the Denglai Navy and the Guanning Army.

The Guanning Army was too far away to manage, but if the Denglai Navy could not be stabilized, blasting them to the bottom would be just as well.

Lin Qian thought briefly, then said, "Send more warships. Do not underestimate the enemy!"

The plan to attack the Denglai Navy was quickly settled, and the general staff then moved on to discussing the route of advance.

Five days later, the North Sea Fleet set sail northward from Nan'ao Island.

The fleet comprised three ships—the Zhulong, Tianyuan, and Zheng He—plus the Xuanming and Yuanming, which had been launched in the eleventh month of the third year of Zhongxuan, along with three fifth-rate ships and four sixth-rate ships, for a total of twelve warships, plus thirty Hailang-class vessels and over ten auxiliary ships such as bird boats, eagle boats, and falcon boats.

Ten days later, under Bai Qing's command, the fleet arrived southeast of Dengzhou, but anchored in open waters, deliberately keeping out of sight.

This was because Great Xia's plan to land in the capital region was still top secret—if the fleet were exposed, it would alert the enemy, and the Ming or the Qing might well station heavy forces and build artillery batteries around Tianjin, making the landing far more difficult.

Therefore, as long as the Denglai Navy cooperated obediently, the seas would remain forever calm.

Yahei

Pink Round

Pen