Chapter 125: One Person

The Great Ming possesses many ingenious techniques.

For example, since the end of the During Zhengde era, salt wells in Jiazhou accidentally yielded oil-water that could illuminate at night; recently, several more wells have been opened, overseen by official authorities. This is from a report on local customs written by Liu Zhang Xian, the Regional Commander of Sichuan, describing oil extraction via drilling in Sichuan.

For example, there are four methods for variolation to prevent smallpox: the garment method, the pus method, the dry seed method, and the water seed method.

For example, crossbreeding different silkworm species yields superior breeds, along with four breeding techniques.

For example, the intricate flower-weaving looms, difficult to replicate.

For example, the sugarcane press, a vertical twin-roller press based on the inclined plane principle.

For example, Fujian uses refined methods to turn sugarcane into brown sugar, then into white sugar.

For example, Zhu Zhu Yijun, using rigid sails, cut cross-sections to seek the underlying causes hidden behind these phenomena.

But these are all techniques; no systematic, classified science has ever emerged, and people remain at the level of knowing that something works, never understanding why, let alone knowing that it must work.

Mechanical cleverness is despised by Confucians; their thinking is profoundly conservative—more than conservative, it is hyper-conservative—so Confucian disciples immediately grow wary of any change, refuse to promote it widely, and avoid studying it, instead labeling everything as "calculating intent," "haste makes waste," or "trifling arts."

By the time of the third generation of Fa, the reverence for antiquity reached its peak; even recalling officials from mourning was seen as betrayal of the sages, and after Emperor Xiaozong, the development of science in the Great Ming became so stifled it could barely breathe.

Fearful of wolves ahead and tigers behind, hesitating and indecisive, they must reform to secure tax revenue for military pay, yet preserve ancestral laws, and conform to Confucian rites—all at once. Where in the world are there so many perfect things?

When Zhu Zhu Yijun's hydrofoil sailboat model arrived at the Songjiang Shipyard, Guo Guo Rulin, Zhao Li Shizhen, and other chief supervisors dismissed it—until they finished reading the notes, replicated the experiments in the side hall of Zhao Wenhua Palace, and stood frozen in shock.

"With my knowledge and understanding, I cannot comprehend how a ship sails against the wind, let alone glide across the sea like this," Guo Guo Rulin stared blankly at the model, floating in the wind and water currents.

Four hydrofoil sailboats built from rigid sail convex-concave surfaces left Guo Guo Rulin bewildered—could this truly be the Daoist magic of Zhenwu Zhenwu Dadi?

The Zhu imperial family has long claimed descent from Zhenwu Zhenwu Dadi—a political propaganda for state stability, and under the Confucian taboo against discussing the strange and supernatural, no one took it seriously.

But a flying ship struck Guo Guo Rulin's unshakable worldview like a hammer, shattering it.

Guo Guo Rulin was a Ming Jinshi of Emperor Jiajing thirty-two, initially appointed as a censor in the Ministry of Personnel; in Emperor Jiajing forty, he supervised the construction of the Great Ming's second imperial envoy ship, sailed to Ryukyu to enfeoff its king, and wrote the Record of My Mission to Ryukyu, documenting events such as the enfeoffment ceremony and the sea sacrifice at the Gou.

The Great Ming's envoy ships were a thousand-liao, with a length-to-width ratio of 5.77:1—this was already Guo Guo Rulin's limit of imagination. Even the red-haired barbarians, famed seafarers who crossed oceans to reach the Great Ming, had no ships this large, let alone ones capable of sailing all eight winds and drawing over fourteen feet (4.39 meters) of water—these thousand-liao behemoths were unmatched worldwide.

The Songjiang Shipyard, ambitious, hoped to build a ship beyond all comprehension, to impress the young emperor with their craftsmen's prowess.

The court not only approved the new five-masted clinker ship's violation of envoy ship norms, but now ordered the construction of a hydrofoil sailboat.

"I'd rather believe His Majesty is Zhenwu Zhenwu Dadi incarnate than believe this thing flies on its own," said Xiao Xiao Chongye, Ming Jinshi of Emperor Longqing five, flicking his sleeve—he'd rather believe in ghosts than in flying ships.

"Why not try building one?" said Chen Lin, Deputy Commander of Songjiang Garrison, rubbing his hands—this thing could fly to Manila, from Songjiang to Ryukyu, perhaps in less than five days.

The route from the Great Ming to Ryukyu was well-established, since Ryukyu's kings were continuously enfeoffed by the Great Ming emperor—a real, ongoing need.

Zhao Li Shizhen, Deputy Chief Supervisor of the Songjiang Shipyard, eagerly said: "I think we should try building one."

"His Majesty allocated sixty thousand taels of silver exclusively for hydrofoil sailboat construction," Zhao Li Shizhen emphasized—emperors don't let hungry soldiers go unfed, and this sum was dedicated entirely to developing and manufacturing these fast sailboats.

Sixty thousand taels could fund the entire Chu Association for one hundred and twenty years; the Songjiang Shipyard could now spend lavishly—this was rare imperial extravagance.

Yu Yu Dayou and Wang Wang Daoqin whispered briefly, then solemnly said: "Then we shall fully oversee its construction."

"His Majesty said there will be no punishment if it fails—only disappointment in the Great Ming's skilled artisans."

In the imperial decree, Zhu Zhu Yijun specifically stated no penalty would be imposed for failure, since this was an exploratory project; if the money was spent, it was spent—the emperor would only feel disappointment.

For the Songjiang Shipyard, capable of producing thousand-liao ships, this hydrofoil sailboat—no bigger than a skiff—was built in three days, and by the third afternoon, it fell apart.

It disintegrated—not capsized.

The mast, keel, horizontal and vertical foils all shattered into pieces; the immense torque caused the vessel to break apart after traveling less than thirty zhang. Chen Lin, who was manning the boat, plunged into the water; the agile Chen Lin swam back to shore.

The material strength was insufficient—this was their first problem.

Principle is principle; practice is practice. From model to ship, the problems to solve were countless.

Chen Lin, ashore, pondered deeply, then spoke based on his seamanship: "I believe the sail's supporting frame should be iron rods—sails deform visibly—or steel rods. The mast and keel are too weak to withstand this twisting. The sail exerts tremendous force rearward-right, while the vertical foil twists forward-left. Wood cannot endure such violent torsion."

Zhao Li Shizhen thought a moment, then said: "Then let's try steel-reinforced frames."

The second ship was built slowly; upon launching, it capsized—the foils still lacked strength—but the vessel sailed sixty zhang successfully. This time, Chen Lin clutched a floating log, waiting for the small boat to retrieve him—he was too exhausted to row.

Soon, the horizontal foil's frame was replaced with steel rods encased in wood; the vertical foil increased from one to four—one at the bow, one at the stern, and one on each side. All techniques available at the Songjiang Shipyard were employed: winches, sail hoists, compasses, iron nail fastenings, nail-reinforced joints, mortise-and-tenon joinery, and caulking with hemp fiber, tung oil, and oyster shell lime.

In May, the ship finally staggered out of the harbor, circled, and returned smoothly.

"It barely sails, but the difference from flying is immense," Guo Guo Rulin said, glancing at his notes, helpless—wind and water ratios were not hard to calculate; their hydrofoil sailboat's wind-to-speed ratio was two-to-one, its speed only half the wind's.

It seemed this was Songjiang Shipyard's limit; they'd used every technique, and the ship, though able to move, could not fly. Night and day of effort had solved only whether it could sail—none of the targets had been met.

Wang Wang Daoqin asked calmly: "Are we giving up? We'll surely disappoint His Majesty—what a pity. We still have over thirty thousand taels left, but so what?"

Yu Yu Dayou stared blankly at Wang Wang Daoqin—this was salt in the wound—but Yu knew Wang was using reverse psychology. With thirty thousand taels left, they must spend every last coin.

Xiao Xiao Chongye glanced left and right: "We have over four thousand shipwrights at Songjiang. Why not ask them? The master craftsmen selected from Nan Ya, Zhejiang, Fujian, and the Two Guangs are seasoned hands. If we can't solve this, why not post a public notice? Solve one problem, get one hundred taels."

"Why are you all looking at me?"

After speaking, Xiao Xiao Chongye noticed everyone staring at him, muttering softly: "The Master said: 'Quick-witted and fond of learning, not ashamed to ask those below—this is called culture.' We are scholar-officials, yes—scholars, farmers, artisans, merchants—but if we don't know, why not seek wisdom from the artisans?"

"No, no, no—you've found a brilliant solution!" Guo Guo Rulin seized Xiao Xiao Chongye's shoulder in delight: "One man's insight is limited; the wisdom of many is boundless!"

"Good, good, good—post the notice immediately!"

Xiao Xiao Chongye had found a method to accelerate problem-solving—an effective way to pool wisdom. Each specialty has its own expertise; we are strong in scholarship, but we are all latecomers—how could we match the experience of lifelong shipwrights?

Soon, a new round of modifications began, and the pace accelerated rapidly; within a month, the hydrofoil sailboat transformed completely, and its speed increased steadily.

It was still a small skiff, but utterly transformed. Chen Lin steered the hydrofoil sailboat across the sea, racing forward; three vertical foils beneath the water churned white wakes behind him. The bow rose and fell with wind and sail, until a strong headwind lifted it—suddenly, the entire hull floated entirely above the water.

The horizontal foils were changed to "∽" shape; no matter the wind direction, both side foils submerged deeper, enhancing stability. The vertical foils shifted from symmetric to asymmetric, reducing torque from sail and foils, further increasing speed.

"Hahaha!" Chen Lin laughed wildly, steering the sailboat—free, unbound, the vessel truly floating on the water.

"Bang!"

The ship disintegrated again; Chen Lin was flung out like a cannonball, skimming across the water several times before plunging deep. Soon, he surfaced, clutching a floating log—he knew, even as the ship broke apart, they had succeeded.

At high speed, seawater becomes harder than iron. When Chen Lin heard the hull groan in the waves, he released the securing lines, braced for impact, and waited—sure enough, when wind weakened and the bow dipped into water, the ship instantly deformed and shattered.

Chen Lin, clutching the log, pondered the final problem: bow modification.

Songjiang craftsmen had warned him: such speed means the bow plunging into water will shatter the hull. A hollow bow allows the ship to lift its head in waves, improving stability in storms; the hull bottom must taper gradually into a narrow, angled waterline, ending in a slender round stern—only then could it sail.

The next day, the new hydrofoil sailboat was pulled from the shipyard for new sea trials.

Chen Lin, still dazed from yesterday's crash, refused to give up the thrill of speed—he launched again, this time for stability testing.

This small boat was cheap to build and easy to modify; further testing would gradually refine it.

But a flying ship, capable of exceeding wind speed against the wind, now truly existed in the Songjiang Shipyard's dock.

If it passed stability and further sea trials, the journey from Songjiang to Tianjin could be completed in one and a half days—on land, from Songjiang to the Northern Ya took sixteen days, to the Southern Ya two days.

In terms of information, Songjiang would be closer to the Northern Ya capital.

If this hydrofoil sailboat could form a coastal patrol network, the Great Ming court's response to coastal Japanese pirates raids would accelerate dramatically.

Information is power.

Thus, the Songjiang Shipyard spared no effort refining this little skiff—how to make it faster became the paramount task for every shipwright there.

While Songjiang fiddled with hydrofoil sailboats, the Great Ming's three-masted clinker warships began launching. These Western vessels disappointed Ming generals upon launch.

Their combat power was not as formidable as described; six ships defeating two hundred was hyperbole—victory in war cannot rest solely on weaponry.

In Yu Yu Dayou's view, naval warfare was simple: big ships beat small ones, big cannons beat small ones, more ships beat fewer, more cannons beat fewer.

This ship was large enough, its cannons numerous enough—but it had a fatal flaw: it could only operate near ports, incapable of long voyages.

Moreover, cannon accuracy on rolling seas was problematic; Western documents revealed victories came mostly from arrows and boarding actions—cannons served more as deterrents.

This three-masted clinker's propulsion was flawed; it was fundamentally a rowing vessel, equipped with oars and oarsmen. It was unsuitable for long ocean voyages—even reaching Lu Song was difficult.

This ship at Songjiang had twenty-four pairs (forty-eight) of oars and 144 oarsmen. In coastal waters, human rowing might suffice—but for open-ocean voyages, such propulsion was utterly impractical.

Yet it was not meaningless; it shattered the Great Ming's traditional ship design, becoming the first Ming warship equipped with cannons. From now on, Ming warships would all carry heavy cannons to damage enemy ships, cannons to eliminate enemy personnel, gunpowder and ammunition storage in hulls, and a new military role: naval gunners.

A new combat system was forming—the transformation of the navy into a true fleet.

Though this cannon-based naval warfare seemed crude—due to range and accuracy issues, cannon-equipped ships could only fire once before closing for boarding—yet it was the only chance.

But cannon and ship development would inevitably usher in a new era—a new maritime combat system—soon, and inevitably, it would arrive.

Yu Yu Dayou was certain.

Luo Luo Bingliang had been busy lately—auditing accounts, inspecting taxes.

During tax inspection, Luo discovered something interesting: tax inspection is a cost-benefit problem—its basic principle is to target the wealthy; thus, tax inspectors never bother small commoners.

Take Nan Ya 's breakfast stalls: a shop selling less than twenty taels a year pays one tael under the hundred-value-six-percent tax law. But these shops keep no ledgers; auditing them consumes vast manpower and resources, only to find the tax collected is less than the cost of collection—isn't this absurd?

Tax inspection also has costs—and they are extremely high.

Auditing requires skilled accountants, surveillance, collection, field visits, land surveys—all demanding manpower. Questioning commoners would shut down the tax office before it even opened. Thus, tax inspection must target the wealthy.

Collect from whoever has money.

Within a month of issuing tax notices, no one paid at the Nanjing Ministry of Revenue. The emperor naively assumed: just hand out a tax notice, and the powerful families who had evaded taxes for two centuries would obediently hand over silver? Daydreaming!

Based on Song Yangshan's land survey, in bright May, Luo Luo Bingliang issued 135 tax demand notices, ordering payment of all arrears since the first month of Emperor Wanli three by month's end.

This was the first warning. If unpaid, a second notice would follow; if still unpaid, no third notice would come.

These 135 notices totaled over one million four hundred thousand taels. The Great Ming Tax Office did not intend to pursue old arrears—what was past was past; the office collected only taxes owed since its own establishment.

In Nan Ya, these notices had a more terrifying name: death warrants.

The Kunshan Gu family was raided by Luo Luo Bingliang's Embroidered Uniform Guard, causing Nan Ya 's scholar-officials and powerful clans to remember, after 154 years, the terror of the Embroidered Uniform Guard.

In Emperor Hongwu twenty-six, Emperor Taizu noticed the Embroidered Uniform Guard abused power and acted with arrogance; he removed their investigative authority and returned it to the Three Judicial Offices. Under Emperor Emperor Chengzu, the Office regained investigative power—the nightmare began. To curb the Guard's arrogance, Emperor Emperor Chengzu established the Eastern Depot.

From then on, the nightmare of the powerful—Factory and Guard—was institutionalized, acting without restraint, targeting powerful officials.

In Yongle nineteen, Emperor Emperor Chengzu moved the capital to the Northern Ya; thereafter, the Southern Surveillance Office grew quiet—too distant from the emperor, nearly abandoned. Luo Luo Bingliang's raid on the Gu family awakened the painful memories of the powerful.

Death warrants reached every household, sparking widespread discussion; each tax notice specified the exact amount due.

Luo Luo Bingliang received word: the scholar-officials and powerful clans had gathered again to strategize—this time at Chongzheng Academy.

The headmaster of Chongzheng Academy was Geng Geng Xiangding, Censor-in-Chief during Emperor Jiajing.

In Emperor Jiajing forty-one, Geng Geng Xiangding was transferred to Nanjing as Censor of Education. Finding Qingliang Mountain serene, he chose its eastern slope, built three halls following the terrain, and named it Chongzheng Academy: "Heaven and earth have righteous qi; Chongzheng transmits Confucian learning."

This "orthodox transmission" was precisely Wang Wang Yangming's heart-school—the true doctrine of Master Wang's innate knowledge.

The doctrine of innate knowing is to strip away the unity of knowledge and action, discard the study of body and mind, abandon experiential practice, and reject the idea that knowing without acting is not true knowing; it focuses solely on the mind as principle, that nothing exists outside the mind, and that the location of intention is the thing itself—speaking only of innate knowing is a betrayal of Master Wang.

The court holds Wang Wang Shouren in the highest esteem and fully endorses his teachings, yet looks down upon his disciples with contempt, even disdain—they have distorted his learning, cannot even remain loyal to themselves, how can they speak of innate knowing?

Yet this strange, heretical doctrine, which has betrayed its source, is now the mainstream in the Southern Office and indeed throughout the Great Ming, while Zhang Zhang Juzheng's doctrine of contradiction is deemed heresy.

The Chongzheng Academy is built along the slope of a hill, divided into three courtyards—front, middle, and rear; the first and second halls are connected by side corridors, with upturned eaves and tiled roofs, flowing streams murmuring, encircled by a small lake shaded by green trees, serene and refined.

Between the second and third halls lie steps of blue stone; ascending them, one finds a vast expanse of greenery. To the east of the steps stand a winding corridor, a rock garden, and a pond, all carefully arranged as scenery.

The third hall stands at the academy's highest point; upon a Taihu stone are carved the four characters "Righteousness, True Learning." Standing in the third hall, one can command a view of all scenery within a hundred li.

At this moment, Geng Geng Xiangding held the Doctrine of Contradiction in his hand, marveling at it; the copy he held was the three-jing-factory deluxe edition, purchased from the Southern Office's imperial estate—complete, uncut, fully expressing Zhang Zhang Juzheng's understanding of the infinite principles of all things.

Geng Geng Xiangding simply could not imagine in what mental state Zhang Zhang Juzheng had composed such a monumental work—though only tens of thousands of characters, each word a pearl, as if all the infinite principles of the world were contained within.

"Lu Guangzu," Geng Geng Xiangding placed his hand on the Doctrine of Contradiction and spoke uncertainly, "I think we should pay the tax. Perhaps… maybe… the Chief Councilor is waiting for us to stir up trouble. The best course is to wait until he dies. While he lives, we must not resist."

The man seated opposite Geng Geng Xiangding was Lu Lu Guangzu.

Lu Lu Guangzu passed the imperial examination in the twenty-sixth year of Emperor Jiajing, the same cohort as Zhang Zhang Juzheng.

When Gao Gong toppled Xu Xu Jie, Lu Lu Guangzu, as part of Xu's faction, was implicated. In the sixth year of Emperor Longqing, Gao Gong was dismissed, and Yang Bo recommended Lu Lu Guangzu, who was specially appointed as Junior Director of the Nanjing Imperial Stables. Lu Lu Guangzu had been slated to enter the capital as Minister of Justice, with glory within reach; Yang Bo had originally recommended him for the post of Minister of Personnel.

That was the Ministry of Personnel—the celestial office controlling the promotion, dismissal, life, and death of all officials.

But before he could enter the capital, he returned home to observe a three-year mourning period for his parents, losing all chance of advancement.

Lu Lu Guangzu had deep roots and close ties to the Jin Party, the Zhang Party, and the Zhe Party—was he not far superior to Zhang Han, who had no background and knew only to nod obediently? But after the death of the Xiaozong Emperor, mourning became the greatest political correctness; Lu Lu Guangzu could only return home.

Yet Liang Liang Menglong was ordered to remain in office despite mourning, and Zhao Zhao Mengyou was likewise retained—this filled Lu Lu Guangzu with resentment. He was somewhat disappointed in Zhang Zhang Juzheng: they were from the same cohort; if others could be recalled from mourning, why could he not be recalled too?

He really could.

In March of Emperor Wanli's third year, Zhang Zhang Juzheng wrote to him, urging him to prepare for recall. Sun Sun Piyang, the Minister of Justice—the same Sun Sun Piyang who loudly demanded random lottery appointments for officials—had failed to meet the six-month performance targets under the Assessment Law and was to be exiled to a provincial post; Zhang Zhang Juzheng ordered Lu Lu Guangzu to prepare for his return to the capital.

Lu Lu Guangzu was no last-choice candidate—he was already a strong contender.

Lu Lu Guangzu pondered and said, "The Chief Councilor is fifty-one; the Emperor is twelve. You've read the Doctrine of Contradiction—the Emperor has learned from him not perfectly, but at least eight or nine tenths. If we pay now, this tax will likely be paid forever. When the Chief Councilor is gone, there will still be the Emperor—when will it ever end?"

Lu Lu Guangzu joined this gathering because he intended to bring two people in: Song Yangshan, Provincial Governor of Nanjing, and Luo Luo Bingliang, Chief of the Embroidered Uniform Guard's Tax Inspection Battalion.

Gatherings that defied imperial prohibitions had secret codes: one might ask, "Is perfect goodness the mind's original nature?" and the reply would be, "The mind free of selfish desires is heavenly principle"; or ask, "Half a curtain of moonlight, crows cry at night," and answer, "The courtyard filled with flower-scent, birds play in spring"; or alter a single character in the Record of Transmission of Learning, or simply recite obscure poetry.

Luo Luo Bingliang found Lu Lu Guangzu, and they instantly agreed—thus bringing everyone in.

Luo Luo Bingliang and Song Yangshan were known to most of the Southern Office's powerful elites, but after disguising themselves—swapping brocade and silk for coarse hemp and short tunics, posing as a retainer and a private secretary—no one noticed them. Who could imagine a man in a flying-fish robe, a red-robed imperial guard, and a scholar in third-rank regalia would degrade themselves so, dressing as servants?

Before arriving, Lu Lu Guangzu had already paid all his family's taxes—he was here merely to watch the spectacle, stoke the flames. The Tax Inspection Office now desperately needed a chicken to kill, to frighten the monkeys.

"Headmaster, most of the gentry and local worthies have arrived," Jiao Hong entered and bowed.

Jiao Hong was Geng Geng Xiangding's direct disciple and managed all affairs of the Chongzheng Academy.

Geng Geng Xiangding entered the theater hall, looked at the crowded crowd, and raised his voice: "Gentlemen, quiet down, quiet down."

"I won't waste words. Today, I invited friends and colleagues here for one purpose only: the Tax Inspection Office—it is truly a scourge! Fabricating excuses, taxing even rice, salt, chickens, and pigs in remote villages—it is sucking marrow and drinking blood!"

"Zhang Zhang Juzheng values wealth too much, people too little; he is meticulous in extracting wealth, negligent in appointing officials; he hears only bribes. The Emperor is deceived by him—we must find a way to make him see Zhang Zhang Juzheng's true face!"

Whether the Tax Inspection Office and its bureaus were proposed by Zhang Zhang Juzheng himself or decreed by the Emperor, all within the Great Ming will attribute them to Zhang Zhang Juzheng's design.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng accepted the role without hesitation—he willingly played the villain.

The flying-fish robe is a second-rank imperial gift; only the Emperor's closest confidants may wear it—ordinary Embroidered Uniform Guards have no right to wear it. The robe is not painted with fish, but embroidered with flying-fish patterns: serpentine in form, with fish fins, turtle tails, and sometimes two horns. Thank you to "DaDaDa Kangwang" for the 1500-point tip—thank you for your support and recognition. Please vote for monthly tickets! Awooooo!!!!!!!

(End of Chapter)