Chapter 267: Slanderous Brocade, One Fish Eaten Many Ways (Begging for Monthly Tickets!)

On the way back to the Western Park, Zhu Youjian broke from his usual habit and did not ride a horse; instead, he shared a heated sedan chair with Zhou Yu.

The curtain was lowered, shutting out the biting wind outside. Though the sedan interior was spacious, Zhou Yu pressed herself close to him, leaving more than half the right side empty. As the heated sedan swayed and rocked, Zhou Yu, still immersed in her earlier excitement, chattered away without pause.

She began by talking about those tiny things she had seen through the microscope over the past few days.

"Your Majesty, that round one — it looks like a ball. I think we can call it 'ball germ.'"

"And then the one with spines all over its body, it looks so fierce — we can call it 'thorn germ.'"

"And that one wriggling and twisting, just like a worm — let's just call it 'worm germ'! And that long, thin 'strip germ,' and the flat, flat 'cake'..." Zhou Yu counted on her fingers, giving those microscopic little monsters a whole series of chaotic, childlike names.

"There's one more! The one covered all over in fuzz — let's call it 'fuzz germ'!"

Zhu Youjian smiled and nodded in agreement, but his mind was already drifting into wild imaginings...

Several hundred years from now, a group of biology PhDs with 200 IQs and thick glasses, at a solemn academic conference, facing a slide on the big screen labeled "Fuzz Germ (MaoMaodun)," discussing it with the utmost seriousness...

"Dr. Zhang, regarding the growth mechanism of 'Fuzz Germ,' I have a question."

"In your paper, you mention that after knocking out the 'MaoA' gene, the 'fuzz flagella' on the surface of 'Fuzz Germ' can still grow, but they lose the 'fuzz head' (MaoTou) adhesin at the tip, causing its biofilm formation capacity to drop by 90."

"Does this mean that the 'fuzz head' is not merely an attachment structure, but in fact the key receptor for quorum sensing in 'Fuzz Germ'?"

Hahaha! The moment he pictured this, Zhu Youjian was laughing and rolling around inside his own mind!

In truth, the term "germ" was a trap card laid down by Zhu Youjian.

Zhu Youjian had a rough idea that what they were currently seeing through the microscope was probably a mix of worms, bacteria, and fungi — not all of it should be called "germs" — but he had no intention of directly providing the correct concepts on this matter.

The people of the Ming dynasty should learn on their own, research on their own, discover on their own, and even overturn their own findings.

In particular, they must learn to overturn the definitions handed down by their emperor.

This is the surpassing of surpassing!

Zhu Youjian would silently observe all of this, to judge whether this era had given rise to academic idol-making and blind obedience.

As for this "fuzz germ" business...

Hahaha, if Zhou Yu wants to call it that, then let her!

Who knows, it might even slightly ease the loathing that future generations of students feel toward biology.

Zhou Yu, for her part, babbled on, giving names one by one to every "germ" she could still remember.

Then she began talking about how, a few days earlier, she had used the new governance methods to discipline the palace maids.

"It was exactly as Your Majesty said!"

Zhou Yu waved her fist, her face full of righteous indignation. "These palace maids — it's not that they couldn't learn to weave! They deliberately refused to learn! At first, I spoke to them kindly and gently, and they just slacked off and shirked."

"This time, I modeled it on Your Majesty's 'red-plus-green' system and set up reward and punishment rules. Whoever wove well got a reward, and whoever wove poorly was punished. Sure enough, they all learned immediately, and each one learned faster than the last!"

"And another thing! Your Majesty told me to ask them whether they were willing to be married off to officers. I've asked them all. Some are willing, but some are not..." Zhou Yu's voice was clear and melodious, like a happy lark, and nine out of every ten sentences contained the words "Your Majesty."

Zhu Youjian looked at her sideways, his gaze tender, but his mind was gradually drifting away, beginning to rethink the matter of "midwife-assisted childbirth." In everything he did, he always liked to look one step ahead while planning three, to eat one fish in many ways, with every link interlocking.

For every single action, if he couldn't squeeze out every last drop of benefit, he would never be satisfied.

The matter of "midwife-assisted childbirth" was, of course, no exception.

The reason he had given Zhang Yan openly — repaying a debt of gratitude — was sincere and heartfelt, but it was far from the whole reason in Zhu Youjian's mind.

On one hand, Zhu Youjian felt that he was not yet standing high enough.

If one were to use the height of a mountain as an analogy, the "dispute between man and land" he was currently pushing forward was, at most, only as high as Mount Tai.

After all, the civil officials had a rough estimate of the arable areas available for military colonization in the surrounding regions and the potential for land reclamation within the Great Ming. The prevailing view at present was that once the new policies were fully rolled out, extending the dynasty's lifespan by another hundred years would be no problem.

After all, not to mention anything else, simply retaking Vietnam would provide a massive new source of grain.

Therefore, if Zhu Youjian later wanted to push reforms that touched even more fundamental taboos, this moral high ground would truly be somewhat insufficient. So what was to be done?

In times of peace, think of danger. If there is no danger, I will proactively create danger for you!

After the reforms, the dynasty still has a hundred years left, right?

I will madly boost the birth rate, squeezing the dynasty's lifespan back down to just twenty years!

If the moral height of Mount Tai is not enough, then I shall stand atop the Himalayas!

From an altitude of 8,848 meters, I shall swing the moral cudgel downward and flog the entire world!

In short, by using an artificially manufactured crisis, I will forcibly shift our current Huaxia civilization from an inward-looking civilization to an outward-looking one. If those barbarians will not rush toward the Great Ming, then the Great Ming will take the initiative and rush toward them!

On the other hand, the midwifery techniques of this era — which he had rapidly studied over the past few days — truly needed an overhaul.

To sum up the current state of midwifery in a single phrase: a cacophony of opinions, a chaotic dance of demons.

There was delivery while sitting, delivery while lying down, delivery while standing...

Setting aside the matter of birthing positions, there were even doctors who advised against hiring midwives at all, saying things like: "Childbirth is a woman's natural function, not an illness. Therefore, no medicine is needed, no physician need be summoned; when the melon is ripe, it will fall of its own accord."

Damn... it's a miracle that a medical text like yours could even survive to be passed down.

Beyond that, there was the issue of disinfection and sanitary conditions, to say nothing of anything else.

The common folk regarded childbirth as an unclean event, believing that the blood effluvium would offend the gods and ancestors. Therefore, it often could not take place in the main bedchamber; a separate, secluded birthing room had to be found. But how could ordinary people have so many rooms? Typically, they would just find a dilapidated hut and "deliver upon the straw."

Yes, in the most literal sense — giving birth while sitting on straw!

When Zhu Youjian read this passage, his heart truly went cold.

How many germs must there be in that straw? Was this not sheer madness? Of course, Zhou Yu was now the most exalted woman in all the Great Ming, so she would not have to endure such a horrific ordeal.

But even the treatment afforded by the imperial household was not necessarily much more advanced. It was simply that the straw was replaced with brocade cushions — but whether those brocade cushions had been disinfected or not, only Heaven knew.

Zhu Youjian planned to use an experimental approach, taking the things he remembered about disinfection, forceps, and the like, and over the next few months, test and verify them in advance on the women of the capital.

Then he would synthesize the best of them, discard the dross and retain the essence, and then bring them to use for Zhou Yu.

Zhu Youjian himself had a clear conscience about this.

Under the current, utterly primitive concepts of midwifery, even the crudest version of what he called an "experiment" would likely bring about such an improvement in survival rates that the world would call him a "divine physician."

But that said, the matter of childbirth absolutely had to be done — yet it did not necessarily have to be done for Zhang Yan.

The reason Zhu Youjian had specifically sought out Zhang Yan was based on a deeper consideration.

This brings us to certain undercurrents of opinion that have been faintly stirring of late.

In truth, as the new policies were gradually rolled out, overt opposition, though suppressed for the moment by every means of morality, popular sentiment, and organization at his disposal, had not yet erupted on any large scale.

But in the shadows, vicious rumors had already begun to breed and spread in the gutters.

The most vicious of these were the ones directly attacking the legitimacy of his succession.

After his enthronement, the famous scenes had been too many, and the contrast with the guileless, honest persona he had maintained at the Prince Xin Residence was simply too stark.

In the eyes of those who supported the new policies, this was naturally a sage sovereign sent by Heaven, born with all knowledge.

But in the mouths of the opposition, it became a breeding ground for conspiracy theories.

The Eastern Depot had actually reported up that people in the capital were spreading tales of how he had schemed with deep calculation, lain low in patient concealment, and even colluded with palace insiders to murder the Tianqi Emperor, thus seizing the throne.

His mother's—! Sure enough, only the man who wrongs you knows just how wronged you truly are.

The date of Zhu Youjian's transmigration was the third day of the second month in the seventh year of Tianqi.

To be precise, it was after completing the wedding rites, upon entering the bridal chamber, and just before the marriage was consummated.

After that night, he spent several days gathering information and assessing the situation.

And then he understood completely!

At that point in time, faced with Wei Zhongxian's power that blotted out the very sky, and faced with the Tianqi Emperor's ambiguous attitude, his best course of action was to do absolutely nothing!

All that rubbish about brotherly affection — just listen to it and let it pass.

Before the throne, what brotherly affection could there possibly be?

The more he did, the more pretext he would only give Wei Zhongxian to move against him, and Tianqi's suspicion of him would gradually take root as well.

Any action taken before the Emperor, as a prince of the blood, to strive for prestige or build up influence, was a death wish, a path to getting oneself killed. After turning the matter over in his mind, Zhu Youjian's final conclusion was that doing not a single thing was the best choice.

So he exerted every effort, laboring from memory, to maintain the original host's habits.

He even resorted to pleading illness to avoid court, and shut his gates to refuse all visitors, all to see Tianqi less often and reduce the chance of exposure.

As for Xu Yingyuan, Wang Yongzuo, and the other Wei Zhongxian partisans in the princely establishment, he left everything exactly as it was, not daring in the slightest to win them over, and even deliberately feigned being deceived by them.

As for things like the Three Questions at the Daily Lecture or the debate over human nature and the physical world, he could only turn them over and simulate them in his mind, not daring to set a single word to paper, let alone step forward to make a name for himself.

A sage Son of Heaven — the prerequisite is that you must first be the Son of Heaven; only then can you become a sage.

But if you try to become the Son of Heaven by first being a sage…

That road has been impassable ever since Wang Mang!

In two thousand years of Chinese annals, what method of cultivating a reputation has not been seen? To really play that game would be treating Wei Zhongxian, the Tianqi Emperor, and the entire officialdom of the court as fools.

Thus, for the greater part of a year before his enthronement, Zhu Youjian could only stay obediently within the princely residence, dutifully reading books — and what he read were the Four Books, the Five Classics, and the histories. Otherwise, how would Zhu Youjian now possess the ability to speak with such literary flourish, with classical allusions springing forth at every turn?

It all came from reading books out of sheer boredom during those six months!

So the talk among the hundred officials that he had read a great many books at the Prince Xin Residence was, in fact, not wrong at all.

At the time, Zhu Youjian made preparations on two fronts.

On one hand, he waited for the Tianqi Emperor to die of illness according to the historical course.

But on the other hand, he also steeled himself mentally.

If, due to the butterfly effect, Tianqi did not die of illness but remained hale and hearty, he would strive to be enfeoffed and depart for Sichuan, or failing that, Huguang or Jiangxi would also do.

In short, the fief must be far from Shaanxi, and as far from the north as possible next.

A pity… there was no precedent for being enfeoffed in Guangdong or Fujian.

Otherwise, for a "development-focused" transmigrator like him, such remote borderlands, places where the court's jurisdiction was weak, places open to trade and maritime commerce, would be the first choice for building a power base.

Once he reached his fief, he would quietly develop, climb the tech tree, accumulate strength, and peacefully await the moment when the realm fell into chaos.

When the time came, he would either follow the script of a prince of the blood inheriting the great succession, or follow the script of the Jingnan Campaign.

If the situation deteriorated too quickly and the Jianzhou barbarians broke through the passes too early, then following the founding emperor's script of a second northern expedition to rally the realm would also do.

He even went so far as to deliberately control the matter of siring children, out of fear of certain extreme coincidences occurring — for instance, Wei Zhongxian going mad for some reason and sending assassins to kill him outright.

He simply did not wish, should he suddenly die, to leave behind a widow and orphan to face the terrible chaos of the coming age; that would be too cruel. But fortunately, the butterfly effect, for whatever reason, did not occur.

The Tianqi Emperor did indeed die, just as he had known.

And he, with Zhang Yan's all-out support, ascended the throne and proclaimed himself Emperor in a mere two days.

And on the very day of his enthronement, he successfully put to death Wei Zhongxian, the man who had kept him in constant fear for half a year!!

Wei Zhongxian! In the Prince Xin Residence, I endured you for two hundred days! But this disguise, cultivated to the great perfection of the Dao of Concealment, though it weakened the butterfly effect and allowed him to lie low until victory arrived,

also starkly highlighted how utterly inconsistent his words and deeds were between those two phases, how profoundly cunning and seasoned in treachery he appeared.

For the moment, although this rumor had not yet spread widely, and even the commoners of the capital did not much buy it,

if it reached the Southern Metropolitan Region, reached Zhejiang, or even Guangdong, what it would become after being worked over by interested parties — Zhu Youjian could well imagine.

Given the common folk's habit of steering everything toward the gutter,

the relationship between him and Zhang Yan, this sister-in-law and brother-in-law, would surely be spun into all manner of unspeakable salacious gossip. Filth like "Secrets of the Palace Bedchamber" and "Adultery Between Brother- and Sister-in-Law" would certainly be slung far and wide.

And when the various natural disasters erupted in concentrated force, the theory of Heaven-human resonance would surely be exploited on a massive scale by the opposition.

All sorts of dissenting rhetoric would absolutely erupt in a concentrated burst.

For example: the natural disasters are precisely because of the new policies!

For example: the natural disasters are precisely because of Chaozhou!

For example: the natural disasters are precisely because of that Eternal Prosperity Emperor who does not look like a proper sovereign at all!

Once interests are deeply infringed upon, it is not at all impossible that these landlords would paint him as a demonic monster descended upon the world.

In particular, the various scientific transformations he intended to push forward — he was now slowly, truly, too lazy to frame them as restorations of ancient ways, and too lazy to keep up the pretense.

These things, in the eyes of the stubborn scholar-officials of this era, probably truly carried a whiff of the demonic and monstrous.

For instance, the hot-air balloon that might appear in the future… if you are not a monster, how do you ascend to the sky?!

Never underestimate the ignorance of an uneducated populace.

Even in the world of later ages, there were people who believed the earth was flat — let alone in this era…

So, choosing Zhang Yan to take the lead in this midwife undertaking was something Zhu Youjian settled on only after deep deliberation and weighing every consideration.

Assisting at childbirth is a matter that accumulates profound hidden virtue.

Done truly and thoroughly, saving thousands upon thousands of lives, one could absolutely ascend to heaven in broad daylight, directly realize the fruit of enlightenment, and become a living buddha of ten thousand households.

When that time comes, for anyone to try to sling mud at Zhang Yan, or at him, Zhu Youjian — how would that be any different from slinging mud at Mazu herself?

This colossal prestige — he, Zhu Youjian, would certainly take some of it, but Zhang Yan must also share in a portion.

Only by the two of them becoming deities together could they reduce this sort of privacy smear attack that specializes in striking below the belt.

Only by making Zhang Yan into the "Child-Sending Guanyin," the "Living Bodhisattva" in the hearts of women everywhere, could they obtain a reputation cast in gold from the very lowest strata of the common people, from the hands of those village women who hold the most fundamental power of public opinion.

Yes — in the arena of public opinion, the scholar-officials are merely the surface.

The greatest arena of public opinion, from ancient times to the present, has always been firmly held in the hands of those common women who seem to have neither power nor influence, yet control the mouths and tongues of every household, young and old…

And the profession of midwife is, even more so, the crack troops and fierce warriors of the Great Ming's field of public opinion.

Compared to them, the little bit of noise that scholar-officials or landlords can stir up — what the hell does that count for!

In his mind, Zhu Youjian carefully sorted through every interest and connection involved in this matter.

He had even thought as far as, once a corps of "Gold-Brand Midwives" had been trained, how to use them as feelers to further consolidate the hearts of the merit-nobility and the high officials.

And how to use the spread of this method to extend the court's hand deep into the most basic village communities.

Right! The midwives absolutely must be given a new name — a professional title personally bestowed by the Yongchang Emperor — only then could they be drawn more profoundly to the side of the New Policies!

What name, though… Nurse? That doesn't feel quite right; it would seem bafflingly out of place in this era.

Or what about Arbiter of Life? Would that title be a bit too grandiose?

Also, once this midwife initiative is spread far and wide, could modern hospitals also be brought into being?

Should this matter be taxed? Could it be taxed?

After all, "advanced medical care" was, in fact, a means by which many nations in later ages earned foreign exchange.

For instance, Turkey smoothly transitioned from being the "land of tourism" into the "land of hair transplants"…

Zhu Youjian's thoughts ranged boundlessly; all sorts of inspirations, reliable and absurd alike, vied to burst forth, colliding wantonly in his brain.

But suddenly, he realized that at some unknown point, the interior of the warm sedan chair had fallen silent.

Zhou Yu's chattering voice had been gone for a long while now.

He looked down and saw that Zhou Yu had, at some point, stopped speaking. She was tilting her head up, staring at him blankly.

"What is it?" Zhu Youjian asked gently. "Weren't you just saying…"

He thought for a long moment but could not recall what Zhou Yu had last been saying, and could only offer an awkward smile.

Zhou Yu shook her head, not minding his distraction.

She simply rested her head lightly against his shoulder and said, in a faint and melancholy voice, "Nothing. It's just that sometimes I feel… all of this is so wonderful it doesn't seem real. As if I were in a dream."

She paused, and her voice dropped very low: "After all, back at that time… I truly thought you… were already dead."

That one sentence was like a key, instantly unlocking the floodgates of dust-laden memory.

The warm sedan chair swayed and jolted; light and shadow dappled its interior.

Zhu Youjian's thoughts were drawn, beyond his control, back to that fateful night that changed everything.

The seventh year of Tianqi, the third day of the second month.

That was his first night in this world.

He remembered waking in a haze, his head splitting with pain. What met his eyes was a piercing expanse of red.

Red wedding candles burning high, red gauze bed-curtains hanging low, red double-happiness characters pasted all over the window lattices.

The air was thick with a cloying scent of incense, mingled with a faint odor of alcohol.

This is… where?

Where am I?

At that moment, Zhu Youjian was completely stupefied.

He clearly remembered he had been in the middle of… how had he opened his eyes to a scene straight out of a period drama?

Immediately after, fragments of memory surged into his mind like a tidal wave, assaulting his nerves.

Great Ming… Tianqi… Prince Xin…

I am Zhu Youjian?!

That last emperor who ended up hanging himself on Coal Hill?

A colossal sense of absurdity and terror instantly seized his heart.

Instinctively, he sought something to lean on, and the first name that sprang into his mind was — Wang Cheng'en?

Yes, Wang Cheng'en! That old eunuch who stayed with him until the very last moment.

But before he could call out, reason told him something was off.

This setting… was unmistakably a bridal chamber!

He had transmigrated to the very night of Zhu Youjian's grand wedding?

Then where was his bride? Was it that Empress Zhou, famed in history for her virtue, who ultimately followed Chongzhen in dying for the dynasty?

Just as he was struggling to sort through the chaotic thoughts, trying to grasp his current situation —

a stifled, halting sound of weeping suddenly burrowed into his ears.

"Sob… it wasn't me… I don't know what happened…"

"Sob… don't you be afraid either… I'll be down there with you soon…"

"Sob… Father… I… I'm still a little…"

The voice was small and thin, filled with terror and despair, like a wounded little beast whimpering in a corner.

Zhu Youjian whipped his head around.

What he saw nearly scared his newly attached soul right back out of his body!

There, beneath a beam not far from the bed, a young woman in a phoenix crown and ceremonial cape was slipping her neck into a red silk sash hung from the beam, then trying to kick away the embroidered footstool beneath her.

It was Zhou Yu, only seventeen years old.

She was weeping — weeping like a rain-drenched pear blossom, sobbing so hard she could barely catch her breath.

It turned out that his predecessor, for reasons unknown, had passed out the very moment he finished the nuptial cup of wine, and had even stopped breathing entirely.

Zhou Yu, her heart full of trepidation, had drunk her own cup as well. She waited a long while, but nothing at all happened.

Then, after checking again and again and confirming that Zhu Youjian still had no breath, she concluded that she had brought death upon her husband, or else had been caught up in some dreadful palace intrigue.

In her terror, this foolish girl thought and thought, and the best solution she could devise was to hang herself in martyrdom, to prove her innocence!

Only by dying together with Prince Xin could she keep the disaster from reaching her father.

"No, big sister, don't!!"

Zhu Youjian practically scrambled and tumbled as he lunged forward, seized Zhou Yu in his arms, and dragged her bodily off the embroidered stool.

The two of them rolled together in a heap — the phoenix crown flew off, pearls and kingfisher ornaments scattering across the floor.

Zhou Yu's eyes went wide with terror as she stared at this man who had "returned from the dead." She trembled like a sieve, scrambling backward until she shrank into the corner of the wall.

Only then, her voice quavering, did she ask the question that Zhu Youjian, even now, could not recall without a helpless grin:

"Are… are you a ghost?"

"But…"

Inside the warm sedan chair, Zhu Youjian, recollecting this far, could not suppress a low chuckle.

…If I'd woken up a moment later, you'd probably be the ghost!

That scene had been so breathtakingly perilous, yet so absurd and so tender.

That young woman, plainly scared to death and convinced he was a ghost, the moment she confirmed he was alive, threw herself into his arms without a second thought, weeping with gut-wrenching abandon, smearing snot and tears all over his wedding robes.

And that was… nearly a year ago already?

"Changqiu, if this is a dream, then I'm afraid you'll be living in it for the rest of your life."

"And it will be a happy, joyful dream, for all of that life."

Zhu Youjian reached out, drew her into his arms like cradling jade, his heart brimming with tenderness.

Some words, perhaps, he would never speak aloud.

Changqiu, you are, in the end, not the same as anyone else.

In this strange time and place, without a single kin to turn to, where every step held hidden peril — in that moment when I was most terrified and lost,

You were the first person I saw when I opened my eyes.

And the only one who, though scared to death herself, still unflinchingly, without a backward glance, was willing to die for me.

As for why she was willing to die — let's set that aside for now.