Chapter 117: Provide the Young Emperor with Ample Ammunition!

Zhu Zhu Yijun stood up and said with a smile, "Those with ambition will succeed; smashing the cauldrons and sinking the boats, the two hundred passes of Qin ultimately belonged to Chu; those who endure hardship are not forsaken by heaven; sleeping on firewood and tasting gall, three thousand Grandmaster Yue soldiers could swallow Wu."

"A pack of Fuxiu fools destined for the grave, dare to think I would bow? Don't even dream it."

Zhu Zhu Yijun expressed his contempt for the Furu, not out of arrogance, but because they truly were utterly powerless.

Recently, there have been two matters in court where one could claim a share of the cake.

The first is the Baoqi Office recruiting talent; the second is the Maritime Academy's nomination. One cultivates land; the other opens the sea.

On these two matters, the Furu, or rather this group fond of empty debate, revealed their deep-rooted incompetence and laziness—they couldn't even sip the broth.

Both the Baoqi Office's farming and the Maritime Academy's sea ventures are extremely arduous.

Of course, some court ministers opposed changing ancestral laws; their opposition stemmed from the motive of smashing the cake if they couldn't have a slice.

Especially regarding the Maritime Academy, some ministers submitted memorials claiming maritime prohibition was ancestral law; to seek national substance, even discussing opening the sea for profit was already a grave sin—why encourage it further? When the rites collapse and customs decay, when the people grow resentful and morals vanish, what then?

Zhu Zhu Yijun directly pulled out another ancestral law to counter them, leaving the opponents utterly routed.

At the dynasty's founding, there was a ban: those who studied astronomy were exiled; those who compiled calendars were executed. In the eleventh year of Hongzhi, Emperor Xiaozong issued an edict lifting the ban on calendar studies and ordered the recruitment of reclusive scholars in mountains and forests who understood astronomy, to prepare for selection—but no one responded.

Due to the ban, astronomy scholars had largely vanished; by the Hongzhi era, not a single person capable of compiling a complete calendar could be found. Must we wait until the Great Ming's maritime endeavors seek reclusive scholars who understand seafaring, only to find no one responds, before we regret it too late?

Both violate ancestral law—was it wrong to do it today, or was it wrong for Emperor Xiaozong to do it during Hongzhi?

The filial Emperor Xiaozong, whose conduct was widely praised, was also a politically correct figure in the Great Ming; at that time, the empire's primary conflict expanded from household affairs to matters of state, and the institutions established after Xiaozong's ascension were held in the highest esteem.

He was called one of the virtuous sovereigns since the Three Dynasties: Emperor Wen of Han, Emperor Renzong of Song, and our own filial Emperor Xiaozong of the Great Ming.

To oppose opening the sea as a violation of ancestral law, one must first oppose Emperor Xiaozong's calendar revision as a violation of ancestral law.

When an emperor thoroughly understands the Great Ming's history, Zhu Zhu Yijun, as emperor, will not be bullied—he can even retort.

"I hear Your Majesty has doubts; I venture to resolve them for you," Zhu Zhu Zaiyu bowed and said.

Zhu Zhu Yijun's eyes lit up—someone else was about to clarify for him.

The eager, studious young emperor exclaimed, "Oh? Uncle, please speak quickly."

Zhu Zhu Zaiyu hurriedly said, "Your Majesty once asked Minister of Rites Wan Shihé and the Grand Secretary a question: the Little Folangji and the Great Folangji, two neighboring nations both from the Far West, yet one comes from the west via Ma Liujia, the other from the east via Luzon. Wan Shihé could not answer and was reprimanded by Your Majesty. I have some thoughts."

Zhu Zhu Zaiyu sought to demonstrate his value, to persuade the emperor to invest in him; to explain his worth, he needed a good story to dazzle the investor.

On the way, Zhu Zhu Zaiyu read through the palace bulletins he had long ignored, selecting one breakthrough: the emperor had asked why the red-haired barbarians from Ma Liujia came from the west while those from Luzon came from the east.

Zhu Zhu Zaiyu took a sheet of paper and sketched the shape of the Great Ming in three strokes, then added the ten-thousand-li sea wall, Luzon, and the Ma Liujia Strait. But unlike typical maps, this one did not fill the page—on this map, the Great Ming was not large at all.

The convention of north-up, south-down, west-left, east-right on Great Ming maps had existed since antiquity; Zhu Zhu Zaiyu's drawing followed tradition and was easily understood, since the Zhao Wenhua Palace already had a massive official chart—Chinese ancient maps always placed north at the top.

"Uncle can draw?" Zhu Zhu Yijun marveled—three strokes had sketched the Chuxing of the known world.

"A little, a little," Zhu Zhu Zaiyu smiled. Without three or three, who dares climb Liang Shan? Without skill, how could Zhu Zhu Zaiyu dare be so defiant, speaking such treasonous words before the eunuch, lamenting he was born a Zhu?

"Your Majesty, during the During Zhengde era, the Little Folangji sent envoys; since then, they have called their land Taixi—the distant west, requiring nearly a year by ship to reach, still unknown in location, size, or extent; we may merely mark a point on the west."

Zhu Zhu Zaiyu marked a black dot and continued, "The Great and Little Folangji are neighbors; mark another dot beside."

"Compared to our Great Ming, one comes from the west to Ma Liujia, the other from the east to Luzon—on this paper, it's impossible, truly strange: how can one place be both the farthest east and the farthest west?"

"But what if we stand the paper upright and roll it?"

Zhu Zhu Zaiyu drew two lines on the paper, picked it up, and rolled it—suddenly, all problems resolved themselves, clarity dawned.

"All red-haired barbarians come from Taixi; on the sea, one sails east, the other west—both naturally reach our Great Ming," Zhu Zhu Zaiyu answered the emperor's doubt.

"Did the Master understand?" Zhu Zhu Yijun clearly grasped what Zhu Zhu Zaiyu meant—the key was whether the empire's chancellor, Zhang Zhang Juzheng, understood.

The young emperor believed Zhang Zhang Juzheng would understand; this was not difficult and could perfectly resolve the issue.

"Simple," Zhang Zhang Juzheng said calmly. The young emperor had doubts; Zhang Zhang Juzheng had truly sought answers for him—he knew more than the emperor imagined, merely uncertain whether his answer was correct.

Zhu Zhu Zaiyu glanced at Zhang Zhang Juzheng in surprise—this man was odd. Such a heretical topic, and Zhang Zhang Juzheng merely said "simple"? He should have immediately cried out, "The Book of Rites says: 'Make impure sounds, strange clothes, novel arts, or devices to confuse the masses—execute!'" or ranted about omen texts and heretical doctrines.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng was famed for being harsh with the young emperor—is this how an imperial tutor behaves? He doesn't even rebuke or admonish?

Zhang Zhang Juzheng said nothing. The injury from Fu Fu Yingzhen was trivial; the young emperor hammered him daily with sledgehammers and mallets until he was dizzy. What Zhu Zhu Zaiyu said was nothing. During lectures, the young emperor had already asked him many times: are ruler and father, ruler and state, one and the same? That was true treason.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng said they were one, yet in practice, the state treasury and the imperial treasury were separate—a betrayal of the unity of ruler and father, ruler and state.

Political correctness must be maintained, but matters must also be done.

Previously, in this side hall, the young emperor had argued that machinery and character had no relation.

"So, Uncle means the earth is not flat, but a cylinder? Rotating around its axis, thus causing sunrise and sunset?" Zhu Zhu Yijun asked, seeing Zhang Zhang Juzheng understood.

Like two dark clouds on the young emperor, once one question was solved, a flood of others followed—now, he asked: if the earth is a cylinder, why do east-west curves exist but not north-south?

Zhu Zhu Zaiyu shook his head. "Your Majesty measured the northern pole's altitude in Beijing as 39°98′; I sat idle for years in the Zheng Prince's palace, received Your Majesty's rare instruments, and before departing, observed the heavens—Zheng Prince's palace altitude was 35°15′. This raises a new problem, Your Majesty."

"Your Majesty, the difference is four degrees—this is abnormal."

"What's abnormal?" Zhu Zhu Yijun asked, puzzled.

Zhu Zhu Zaiyu sighed, "As the saying goes, 'Seeing a mountain, a horse runs until it dies without reaching it.' If you see a mountain and keep running, the horse dies before arrival—then doubt arises: how high is the sky? How far is the celestial pole? The North Star is like a mountain peak. Your Majesty is in Zhao Wenhua Palace; I am in Zheng Prince's palace—we are far apart, yet relative to the sky's height, how can there be such a difference?"

"Therefore, our earth is not a cylinder, but a sphere."

The sky's height is boundless; compared to the North Star, from Huaiqing Prefecture's Heyin County to the Great Ming, a four-degree difference already exists—is the sky not high enough, or is the earth's surface curved?

Two young eunuchs carried a red silk-covered tray before the emperor. Zhu Zhu Zaiyu lifted the silk: "The earth is a sphere."

"What do you think, Master?" Zhu Zhu Yijun looked at Zhang Zhang Juzheng.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng bowed and said, "Han's Zhang Heng's 'Notes on the Huntian Instrument' says: 'The sky is like a chicken's egg; the earth is like the yolk, solitary within the sky, the sky large, the earth small.' Liu Song's He He Chengtian's 'On the Shape of the Huntian Model' says: 'Carefully examining earlier theories and observing the Huntian Instrument, I realized the sky is perfectly spherical, water occupies half, above and below the earth are identical, water encircles it below.'"

"The Prince's words are not novel; views on heaven and earth have always varied."

Opinions on heaven's and earth's shapes have differed through the ages; the notion of a round sky and flat earth, with China at the center, is merely one among many.

To resolve the young emperor's doubts, Zhang Zhang Juzheng had truly studied many texts; the idea that the earth is a sphere has existed since antiquity, for it explains many phenomena.

Zhu Zhu Zaiyu continued, "The Book of Zhou Officials says: 'On the earth, a thousand li yields a one-inch difference in shadow.'"

"In the nineteenth year of Yuanjia, the Liu Song's He He Chengtian said: six hundred li yields a one-inch difference."

"In the first year of Yongping, the Northern Qi's Xin Du Fang said: two hundred fifty li yields a one-inch difference."

"During the Tang, the monk Yixing and Nangong Shuo, using the Yellow Path Traveling Instrument and Water-Driven Huntian Instrument, dispatched officials to various regions to measure solar shadows, reporting back—the northern pole's altitude was 51° among the Tiele and Huige tribes, 18° in Lin Yi; the Dayan Calendar was completed."

"Nangong Shuo led officials and astronomical scholars from Huazhou's Bai Ma, Junyi, Fugou, to Shangcai's Wu Jin—four locations surveyed."

"Using the Tian Fuju Instrument to measure the northern pole's altitude, and an eight-foot gnomon to measure solar shadow lengths at winter solstice, summer solstice, spring equinox, and autumn equinox, they measured distances with ropes. They found a one-degree difference in northern pole altitude corresponds to 351 li and 80 steps."

Clearly, Zhu Zhu Zaiyu made it explicit: this was not his personal claim. From the Book of Zhou Officials to He He Chengtian of Liu Song, Xin Du Fang of Northern Qi, Yixing and Nangong Shuo of Tang, proponents of the spherical earth had not only advocated it but also conducted measurements using instruments.

Zhu Zhu Yijun looked at the sextant before him and asked, "Uncle, I understand: since the Zhou era, they noticed shadow length differences at the same time; by the Wei-Jin and Southern and Northern Dynasties, practice showed six hundred li per inch; by Northern Qi, it became two hundred fifty li per inch; in Tang, using the Tian Fuju Instrument, they began measuring the northern pole's altitude."

"Uncle, what is this Tian Fuju Instrument?"

Zhu Zhu Zaiyu sketched the Tian Fuju Instrument in three strokes: a right-angle ruler flipped upside down, with a weight suspended from the right-angle vertex, and an arc set between the two perpendicular rulers, marked with scales.

By sighting the North Star along one ruler's edge, the weight's line on the arc showed the northern pole's altitude reading.

Zhu Zhu Zaiyu said earnestly, "It is the same as Your Majesty's sextant—different paths, same destination."

"Indeed, nothing happens overnight; all have clear developmental lines," Zhu Zhu Yijun remarked thoughtfully.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng, too, stood on the shoulders of past sages, gradually expanding his understanding, not building castles in the air. He did not arrive at contradictions; Zhu Zhu Zaiyu's achievements were not due to innate genius or pure invention—they were built on the shoulders of past sages, taking one more step forward.

To know by birth, to know by study, to know through hardship—these are three paths to understanding. Dripping water wears through stone; gradual accumulation and breakthrough yield results.

"Does Your Majesty know about precession?" Zhu Zhu Zaiyu finished his story and finally began seeking investment—he needed the emperor's policy, talent, and funding.

Zhu Zhu Yijun smiled, "I know. Feng Da, explain precession to Uncle."

"Heavenly year and earthly year differ; earthly year is short, heavenly year is long—that is precession," Feng Bao explained succinctly. He had listened carefully; though he didn't understand the definitions of heavenly and earthly years, knowing the term sufficed.

Zhu Zhu Zaiyu stood frozen. The emperor's entourage was truly full of hidden dragons—this concept of precession, even the top scholar Sun Sun Jigao didn't know!

"Uncle, what precession value did you measure?" Zhu Zhu Yijun asked curiously.

Zhu Zhu Zaiyu bowed, "One year's deviation is one minute, forty-three seconds, seventy-three micros, twenty-six Zhang Xian. Every 91 days, 25 ke, the heavens complete one cycle—meaning the star pointed to by Earth's axis will again become Gouchen I after 25,000 years, or one degree westward every seventy years and twenty ke."

"Uncle is extraordinary," Zhu Zhu Yijun stared blankly at Zhu Zhu Zaiyu.

Guo Guo Shoujing's Shoushi Calendar measured precession as sixty-six years; Zhu Zhu Zaiyu measured seventy years and twenty ke; the correct value is seventy-one years and eight months per degree westward.

With Uncle here, who dares say the Great Ming's calendar has not advanced? Send Uncle to crush them!

The Great Ming has no calculations—only because court opinion prevents action.

Remember, Zhu Zhu Zaiyu is the Zheng Prince's heir; his father is a disgraced commoner; the Great Ming's ancestral law forbids learning astronomy. Zhu Zhu Zaiyu risked immense political danger studying astronomy, confined by princely restrictions, lacking observational data and any astronomical equipment, yet he pursued calendar studies alone—his difficulty is unimaginable, yet he pushed the results forward.

Zhu Zhu Zaiyu is arrogant—but he has every right to be.

"I hear Uncle excels in mathematics; henceforth, teach me mathematics," Zhu Zhu Yijun assigned Zhu Zhu Zaiyu a post—teaching the emperor math, though who taught whom was far more interesting.

Zhu Zhu Zaiyu said solemnly, "I wish to build an observatory to correct calendar errors."

"What do you think, Master?" Zhu Zhu Yijun asked Zhang Zhang Juzheng.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng had known the young emperor intended calendar reform, but this must proceed step by step. He planned to provide the emperor with ammunition—so when the emperor argued, he'd have enough to overwhelm opponents into silence.

He considered and said, "Some claim Emperor Taizu forbade calendar studies, comparing it to ancient prohibitions on astronomy and calculation—this is ignorance of the full picture. They learned, but incompletely; they read books, but only a little."

"The Book of Jin says: 'Prohibit star phenomena and omen texts.'"

"The Tang Code Commentary, Volume Nine, says: 'Privately studying astronomy is equivalent to possessing omen texts or military manuals; violators are sentenced to two years' hard labor.'"

"On the first day of the twelfth month of the second year of Princess Taiping Xingguo, an edict ordered sixty-eight persons assigned to the Astronomical Bureau; all others were branded and exiled to islands. The Song Code states: 'Those who privately study and conceal such knowledge shall be executed; informants rewarded ten thousand coins.' All star calculators were sent to court."

"The Yuan History, Emperor Shizu's Annals: 'All privately held astronomical charts and omen texts are forbidden; those who study or conceal them shall be punished.'"

"In the sixth year of Emperor Hongwu, Emperor Taizu decreed: personnel of the Imperial Astronomical Bureau shall never be transferred; their descendants shall study only astronomy and calendar calculation, not other arts; those who refuse to study shall be exiled to the South Sea as soldiers."

"The claim 'those who study calendars are exiled, those who compile them executed' is a misreading. It should be: descendants of the Imperial Astronomical Bureau who refuse to study astronomy and calendar calculation are exiled; those who privately compile calendars are beheaded."

Zhang Zhang Juzheng provided the first ammunition: even in the Emperor Wanli era, even in the Great Ming, the ancestral prohibition on calendar studies was widely misunderstood—it was the descendants of the Imperial Astronomical Bureau who were exiled to the South Sea for refusing to study astronomy and calendar calculation; private calendar compilers were executed.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng continued, "The Zuo Zuo Zhuan says: 'Once, Wang Sun Man rebuked the Chu prince for asking about the weight of the Nine Tripods—it was not to be asked.'"

"The Nine Tripods were sacred ritual vessels, symbols of royal authority; thus, others were forbidden from coveting them. Prohibitions on astronomy and calendar studies throughout history stem from the same principle."

"The Book of Zhou Rites, Spring Official, states the Grand Historian's duty: 'To regulate years and sequence affairs, promulgate them to offices and districts, and announce the lunar calendar to all states.'"

"The Book of Zhou Rites also places astronomy and calendar calculation under state control, then promulgates them to offices, the capital, and all states, so all vassals and subjects may follow."

"State-controlled astronomical correction; strict prohibition of private astronomy."

Zhang Zhang Juzheng provided the second batch of ammunition: why have successive dynasties banned private study of astronomy and calendrical calculations? Because this knowledge connects heaven and spirit, directly tied to imperial authority—just like the Nine Tripods, it is a celestial ritual vessel. Now that the calendar is inaccurate, doesn't that mean the court has lost its connection to heaven and spirit? Shouldn't we fix it quickly? Are we to let rites, music, and military campaigns originate from the feudal lords?

It is only natural for the court to control astronomy. If the common people surpass the court in calendrical accuracy, that would be a catastrophic disaster.

"Shang Tang destroyed the Zi Xia altars and restored them; King Wen of Zhou built the Spirit Terrace and demolished the Shang altars. Those who privately studied astronomy and calendrical science and then pledged allegiance to a new sovereign were criminals under the old regime, but under the new, they became founding ministers. Wu Fan served King Sun Quan of Wu; Zhang Bin served Emperor Wen of Sui; Li Li Chunfeng served Emperor Taizong of Tang; Liu Ji served Emperor Taizu of the Great Ming—all were like this." Zhang Zhang Juzheng presented the third batch of ammunition to the young emperor—this one was a powder-ship-level blockbuster.

If the court's calendar is worse than the people's, widespread chaos is inevitable.

Liu Ji possessed one book on astronomy and the Zatian technique, which aided Emperor Taizu. After retiring home, he fell gravely ill and handed the Book of Astronomy to his son Liu Jin Lian, saying: "Submit it urgently—do not let future generations study it!" At his death, Liu Ji warned his descendants not to study astronomy or calendrical science, and to return the Book of Astronomy to Emperor Taizu.

"So you mean it's feasible?" Zhu Zhu Yijun asked with a smile. He had accepted Zhang Zhang Juzheng's ammunition and had now loaded it.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng stated firmly: "Yes. The Imperial Astronomical Bureau stands directly opposite the Imperial Examination Hall and the National University. Build the observatory within the Imperial Astronomical Bureau."

Zhu Zhu Yijun nodded: "Good. Then Prince Uncle and Zhou Xiang, the Deputy Director of the Imperial Astronomical Bureau, shall jointly oversee this matter."

Zhu Zhu Zaiyu bowed deeply and declared loudly: "Your servant receives the imperial command!"

Zhu Zhu Zaiyu's father, Zhu Zhu Houwan, had long since put aside past grievances. In Zhu Zhu Houwan's view, the late emperor had restored his title and even increased his stipend by four hundred shi—this was an admission of error. In this age where the emperor's authority was supreme, the late emperor had feigned ignorance. Zhu Zhu Houwan would never escape the high walls for the rest of his life.

What Zhu Zhu Zaiyu had truly fought for all along was not right or wrong, but merely a desperate struggle for survival.

Now, the emperor had entrusted him with compiling the new calendar—this was letting go of past right and wrong, granting him a chance to correct new right and wrong. He was still fighting over right and wrong, but now it was different.

Zhu Zhu Zaiyu and Zhang Zhang Juzheng left the side hall of the Zhao Wenhua Palace and stood beneath the winter sun.

"Master, may I borrow your 'Contradiction Theory'?" Zhu Zhu Zaiyu decided to read it—the "Contradiction Theory" his father had so strongly recommended. Today's court affairs had shown him that Zhang Zhang Juzheng was far more powerful than he had imagined.

Yet even such a formidable Zhang Zhang Juzheng and such a brilliant young emperor found their tasks so difficult.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng spoke with certainty: "That is the emperor's 'Contradiction Theory'—you should ask the Grand Eunuch for it. Prince, the capital is a den of tigers and dragons, far more dangerous than Huaiqing Prefecture's Heyang County. You must be cautious, ever more cautious. Say as little as possible. This matter is of immense gravity—clarify everything in advance."

At the grand banquet held to welcome Prince Zhu Zhu Zaiyu to the capital and demonstrate familial affection, the young emperor did not attend, preoccupied with martial training and agriculture. Nor did Zhu Zhu Zaiyu, the very centerpiece of this familial bond, attend.

After obtaining the "Contradiction Theory," Zhu Zhu Zaiyu read so intently he lost track of time. He had no interest in such formalities, especially since he knew the young emperor would not attend. Coupled with Zhang Zhang Juzheng's warnings, Zhu Zhu Zaiyu, residing in the Ten Princes' Mansion, adopted a reclusive lifestyle.

The court ministers could not even see this prince.

Zhu Zhu Zaiyu regretted that his nephew had no interest in music—he himself excelled in musical theory, yet the young emperor had merely glanced at it twice.

Though the young emperor had many hobbies, he had little interest in music.

In December of the second year of Emperor Wanli, within the Liaodong Regional Military Command, Provincial Governor Zhang Zhang Xueyan and Li Li Chengliang stood with their hands clasped, gazing at the sky. The heavens were utterly clear, with not a hint of snow. No snow meant no offensive. Li Li Chengliang's delay was meant to annihilate the Wang Jian Nü in one decisive strike.

Li Li Chengliang was tall and robust; Zhang Zhang Xueyan, a scholar, was slender. Yet together, they stood in perfect harmony, both heads tilted upward, helpless before heaven.

Still no snow.

Zhang Zhang Xueyan frowned: "The court decided on an offensive in early November. Supplies have arrived. If we still don't move, the court will surely suspect we're deliberately preserving the enemy to force them to pay our overdue wages."

"I share that concern, but heaven refuses to cooperate—what can I do? If we attack without securing victory, the consequences will be endless." Li Li Chengliang stared upward, his neck aching, yet not a single cloud appeared.

This Ma Deli Li Chengliang especially anxious.

"The court doesn't seem to be pressing," Zhang Zhang Xueyan said with a strange expression. "His Majesty has not issued any inquiry; the Grand Secretary has not written; the court remains utterly calm. Recently, court affairs have been lively—because of the reduction of princely stipends, which is unusual. Normally, court ministers persuade the emperor to cut princely allowances. Now, it's the ministers who are blocking the cuts."

"General Qi has not sent an envoy to inquire—strange! This campaign makes me uneasy."

If the court had pressed, Zhang Zhang Xueyan and Li Li Chengliang wouldn't have been so worried. Now, everything was ready except the west wind. Li Li Chengliang's forces remained idle, yet the court didn't even scold them—let alone urge them—only asking once or twice daily. It was too strange, making both men's nerves twitch.

Li Li Chengliang offered a possibility: "Could it be that His Majesty, in his wisdom, understands Liaodong's remoteness and thus refrains from micromanaging us? Look—he has drawn silver from the inner treasury to fully settle our arrears. This is unprecedented since the Yongle era."

"When have we ever seen such a return?"

Li Li Chengliang had never seen such a scene. Every campaign before had required him to scramble for silver, grain, and logistics. The court barely delivered half the pay to Liaoyang. This was his first campaign so lavishly supplied. If the full pay is actually paid, it's no exaggeration to say Liaodong's stability will last for decades!

The Haixi Jurchens, the Wild Jurchens, the Ula tribes, and the Jianzhou Jurchens—all are nothing but clay chickens and broken porcelain!

Zhang Zhang Xueyan said uncertainly: "Perhaps… maybe? General Qi also says so. He says His Majesty is naturally wise, understands frontline warfare, and knows that opportunities vanish in an instant—hence he does not press."

"According to General Qi's logic, the court has only so much silver. No matter how long the war lasts, it's still the same amount—somewhat like the Kaocheng System."

When the Ming emperor showed wisdom, Zhang Zhang Xueyan and Li Li Chengliang felt strangely unaccustomed. Everything about this campaign felt odd.

Li Li Chengliang was under immense pressure. The court's silence unnerved him—even a scolding edict would have been better.

Li Li Chengliang pointed at the sky and cursed: "Damn you, heaven! When we need you, you give no favor—not even a breeze! I've begged at the Dragon King's temple for days for snow. I've seen people beg for rain, but never for snow! If I find that Dragon King, I'll flay his skin and tear out his tendons!"

Zhang Zhang Xueyan lowered his gaze and shook his head: "Truly, the damn heavens! Usually, the cold wind howls nonstop, snowfalls grow heavier each time. This year? Since winter began, not a single flake has fallen!"

To their astonishment, the moment they finished speaking, the withered vines and ancient trees began to howl. Sand on the ground was whipped into swirling dust clouds.

"The wind's rising?"

"The wind's rising!" Li Li Chengliang suddenly shivered and cried out: "The wind's rising!"

It wasn't that they possessed magic—it was that they had spent days squatting there, cursing endlessly. Any wind that came seemed like their doing.

Liaodong's wind was icy, scraping like knives across bones. As the cold gale struck, Li Li Chengliang shuddered, then broke into wild joy: "Ha! Heaven has not abandoned us! Perfect! Zhou Shizong Shilu, gather the men—we're advancing against the rebel chief Wang Gao! Wang Wang Nian, Director of Grain Affairs, Ministry of Revenue! Wang Wang Nian! Wang Wang Nian? Where's he gone?"

If the wind didn't come, Li Li Chengliang would go mad.

Li Li Chengliang prepared for battle but couldn't find Wang Wang Nian, the Ministry of Revenue's grain officer, anywhere!

"Probably asleep on some woman's belly! I'll go find him!" Zhang Zhang Xueyan glanced left and right. These days, assistant commanders had been waiting for snow, constantly coming to ask: "General, when do we attack? To avenge Pei Emperor Chengzu!"

Only Wang Wang Nian, the grain officer, kept insisting they shouldn't attack. Worse, he repeatedly failed to appear for roll call.

Had court discussions not centered on princely stipends, Wang Wang Nian's words might have sparked a powerful public movement against the offensive.

Now that the wind had come, Wang Wang Nian was still nowhere to be found!

Wang Wang Nian's audacity stemmed entirely from his affiliation with the Jin Party—Provincial Governor Zhang Zhang Xueyan was also of the Jin Party.

In September of Emperor Longqing 4, the Ula Khan Khan Chahan Chahar Tumen, seeing Altan Khan enfeoffed in the northwest, immediately mobilized his three tribes to gaze upon Liaodong, stationing troops beyond the pass, demanding the Ming court also grant him a princely title. Liaodong's Regional Commander Wang Wang Zhidao and Assistant Regional Commander Lang Degong died in battle. The next year, Provincial Governor Li Qiu was dismissed, and Zhang Zhang Xueyan was recommended by Gao Gong to become Provincial Governor of Liaodong.

Zhang Zhang Xueyan was furious. When there was no war, Wang Wang Nian acted recklessly; Zhang Zhang Xueyan, seeing they were both from the Jin Party, had tolerated him. But now, with war imminent, Wang Wang Nian had vanished entirely.

When Zhang Zhang Xueyan found Wang Wang Nian, snowflakes had begun to fall. Wang Wang Nian's legs trembled; he could barely stand—clearly still drunk. Zhang Zhang Xueyan, enraged, kicked Wang Wang Nian to the ground, seized his seal, and took personal charge of grain logistics.

Wang Wang Nian grabbed Zhang Zhang Xueyan's arm, shook his head hard, and regained some clarity: "Don't attack! Crossing the Fushun Pass to strike at Gule Zhai —there's danger! How did Pei Emperor Chengzu die? Wasn't he lured into an ambush?"

"If we cross the pass today, the Northern Barbarians—the Wang Jian Nü—must have already set their traps. Moreover, Khan Chahan Chahar Tumen in the northwest, and Wang Tai of the Haixi Jurchens, are both watching like tigers. Our army crossing the pass will surely suffer defeat!"

"Governor Zhang! Listen to me! Don't go!"

"Before General Li, three Regional Commanders died in battle: Yin Luo Shangzhi, Yang Zhao, and Wang Wang Zhidao—all fell consecutively. In September of Emperor Longqing 4, Assistant Regional Commander Lang Degong left Jinzhou without orders; Wang Wang Zhidao pursued him—and both were ambushed and killed. Governor Zhang, have you forgotten?"

"To march a thousand li for profit is forbidden in military strategy. The general should fortify the passes and defend against barbarian incursions—that is the proper course. Why join the attack? Don't go!"

Wang Wang Nian recounted past tragedies: before Li Li Chengliang, three Ming Regional Commanders had died. Former Provincial Governor Li Qiu was even more unfortunate—he forbade offensive action, yet Lang Degong charged out recklessly. Wang Wang Zhidao went to stop him, and both were ambushed and killed.

Wang Wang Nian wailed: "Don't go!"

The young emperor's ammunition stock +1. Li Li Chengliang's long-awaited snow had finally come. Please vote for monthly tickets! Awooo!!!!

(End of Chapter)