Chapter 291: The Youth Here

The so-called "Erudite" originated in the Qin and Han dynasties, initially referring exclusively to Erudites of Confucian learning; today's Erudites of the Five Classics in the Imperial Academy are a continuation of this tradition.

After the Han dynasty, Erudite official posts were also established for various types of specialists.

For example, Erudites of Statutes and Ordinances, Erudites of the Imperial Physician, Erudites of Calculation, Erudites of Calligraphy, Erudites of Astronomy, Erudites of the Grand Divination, Erudites of Transcendents, Erudites of Incantations and Prohibitions, and so on. By the Tang and Song dynasties, the term became even more widespread, and folk artisans and craftsmen also began to be called Erudites.

Such as Tea Erudites, Chess Erudites, Veterinary Erudites, Music Erudites, Tea-Brewing Erudites, and even... Massage Erudites existed as well.

Thus, using the title "Erudite" allows for theoretical discourse at the high end while also accommodating manual craftsmen at the low end, and it requires no creation of entirely new official posts out of thin air.

It is truly the most suitable official position for the current Great Ming Imperial Academy of Sciences.

And this meeting with the scientific Erudites was not held indoors.

It was held on the plaza before Huangji Hall, which was normally used only for grand court assemblies.

It was approaching noon now; sunlight spilled down, and though the wind was strong, it was not unbearably cold.

A group of civil officials in crimson and blue robes, mingled with craftsmen in padded cotton jackets, had formed a circle.

In the center of the circle stood the Son of Heaven of the Great Ming, Zhu Youjian.

And before Zhu Youjian sat a strange-looking object.

"So this is the bicycle you've made?"

Zhu Youjian rubbed his somewhat cold hands together, exhaled a puff of white breath, and stepped forward.

The lead craftsman, his hands full of calluses, nervously twisted the hem of his coat.

"Following Your sketches, we originally wanted to use an iron chain, but that thing was far too laborious to make. Forging one chain would keep two blacksmiths busy for half a month, and the cost would be enough to buy half a donkey."

"So we... took the liberty of making some changes."

Zhu Youjian crouched down and carefully examined this "Great Ming edition" bicycle.

The frame had no fancy carvings whatsoever; it used the most common materials among the common folk: white-wax wood poles and old elm.

White-wax wood was used for the front fork, chosen for its elasticity and resistance to breaking; old elm was used for the main beam, joined with the most traditional mortise-and-tenon structure, crudely and simply reinforced on the outside with a few hoops of raw iron. Not even lacquer had been applied, giving it the rugged, durable feel of a cheap farm tool.

The wheels were simply scaled-down versions of carriage wheels, with wooden spokes.

The most ingenious part was the "tires."

Unlike a carriage, a bicycle cannot rely on its own weight for traction, so while shock absorption in the tires could be compromised, grip was critically important. The first version they built rode passably on dirt roads, but on flagstone paths it slipped far too severely.

Zhu Youjian had assumed they would carve tread patterns into them.

He had not expected that the outer rim of the wooden wheels would be densely wrapped with hemp rope as thick as a finger.

"This hemp rope was thoroughly soaked in tung oil, then rolled in a layer of pine resin," the craftsman explained. "It's a bit hard, but it's wear-resistant. If it breaks, any farming household can rewrap it in a new coil; it costs next to nothing."

"Though on ordinary dirt roads, there's no need for this hemp rope; you can just ride directly."

Looking next at the transmission system, Zhu Youjian laughed.

The front and rear wheel hubs were pulley wheels carved from hardwood, with a cowhide belt two fingers wide stretched taut between them.

"This... can it actually drive the wheel?" Zhu Youjian reached out and gave the belt a flick.

"It can! It just slips easily."

The craftsman added, "So this humble one smeared pine resin powder on the belt, and also added a 'tensioning wheel' at the rear wheel—it's really just a wooden block pressing against it, but it holds with great force! We learned this method from the village spinning wheels."

As for the axle, it was a raw iron rod, fitted into an oil-soaked hardwood sleeve.

Zhu Youjian looked at this "budget edition" bicycle.

No brakes, no mudguards, no chain.

But every material on this thing, from top to bottom, could be sourced from the market of any county seat in the Great Ming.

This was exactly what he wanted!

"Good! Excellent changes!"

Zhu Youjian patted the seat, which was stuffed with reed catkins, and nodded with satisfaction.

He reached out, gripped the seat and the handlebars, and lifted the bicycle slightly.

It was a bit heavy.

Zhu Youjian gauged it privately and felt it was still much heavier than those in his previous life.

If it had been the body from his previous life, carrying this iron hulk up and down seven flights of stairs would have been a real struggle. Back then he was still in school, his family was poor, and he couldn't bear to pay the thirty-yuan monthly parking fee in the apartment complex, yet he was also afraid the bike would be stolen. So every day he lugged his bicycle up and down the stairs—going to school in the morning, returning in the afternoon, going again, and returning again—four trips a day.

At the time, he only felt that life was bitter.

Now, looking back, those days when he could scrimp and save over thirty yuan had become a beautiful dream to which he could never return.

"It does look sturdy enough."

"We shall give it a try."

Gao Shiming at his side was startled and hurriedly said, "Your Majesty, this thing has only two wheels and looks unsteady. Perhaps let us servants first—" "No need."

Zhu Youjian waved his hand, allowed no one to assist him, and directly swung one long leg over and sat down.

The seat was a bit high, but with both feet planted on the ground, he was perfectly steady.

The surrounding craftsmen and officials all held their breath, terrified that His Majesty the Emperor might take a bad fall.

Zhu Youjian took a deep breath and stomped down hard on the pedal.

"Creak—"

The somewhat dry, rasping sound of friction was especially jarring in the vast, empty plaza.

The wheels turned, and the bicycle wobbled forward.

Zhu Youjian pushed off the ground with one foot and pedaled a few times; that long-lost sense of balance returned to his body.

Could it be that muscle memory actually follows the soul?

If so, could I publish a paper on this discovery in some "rubbish journal"?

As Zhu Youjian let his thoughts wander, he began riding the bicycle in circles around the plaza.

"Creak, creak—"

That shrieking sound, to Zhu Youjian's ears, was like celestial music.

Because it really did sound just like the beat-up bicycle he rode back in his school days…

He pedaled faster and faster, as if what he was treading was not a crude wooden vehicle but a time machine crossing through the ages.

In that moment, the refugees, the Jianzhou barbarians, the corrupt officials, the crushing taxes that weighed on his shoulders — all seemed to be blown apart a little by the wind.

He became again that boy who had just finished a ball game, drenched in sweat, carrying his best buddy off to the internet cafe.

In the summers of youth, a great gust of wind would blow through the sweat, cooling the heart, pure and exhilarating.

All the way from the black-market internet cafes that cost fifty cents an hour, to the ones that cost two yuan an hour.

All the way through, who knew how many breakfast allowances had been poured into them.

Yet in the end, after he had worked for many years and looked back, suddenly there were ten-yuan-an-hour gaming cafes everywhere.

And he could no longer find a single friend to go with him.

Flowers may bloom again, but a man can never be young twice.

This moment, right now, was exactly like that moment, back then.

Zhu Youjian was just immersing himself in the atmosphere of a youth film.

His thoughts had already drifted to building Changqiu a pink ladies' bicycle after she gave birth, so they could go riding together.

Then they drifted to: could he manage to make movies in this lifetime?

Then they wandered boundlessly to: should he organize a cycling race around the capital, to stir up the mood and promote new things? But the eunuchs and ministers standing by were watching with their hearts in their throats.

"Your Majesty! Slow down! Please, slow down!"

Gao Shiming led men trotting alongside on both flanks, calling out in a shrill voice, terrified that the Emperor might topple over, man and machine together.

Zhu Youjian rode two more circuits, until a faint sweat broke out on his body, then abruptly scraped both feet against the ground, using the friction of his soles to stop. Though without rubber tires, the jolting numbed his backside.

Though the braking still had some technical problems left unsolved, and for now he could only rely on foot-braking.

But… what more could you ask of a bicycle!

This was what transmigration truly meant!

Transmigration was not merely slaughtering across the land, not merely schemes and power plays, and certainly not merely endless meetings!

It was, little by little, turning this strange world into the shape of the one he knew!

Zhu Youjian swung off the bike and casually handed the handlebars to Gao Shiming, who had run himself breathless. The officials around, seeing the Emperor stop, crowded forward; though alarm still lingered in their eyes, curiosity outweighed it.

Those who could be selected for the Academy of Sciences were mostly not book-rotted pedants; they understood, to some degree, the principles of investigating things.

They could grasp the ingenuity in this.

Zhu Youjian looked toward that craftsman and asked:

"At present, what is the cost in silver of this vehicle?"

The craftsman, not daring to raise his head, said in a trembling voice:

"R… replying to Your Majesty, if one reckons only the wood, iron, oil, and such material costs, it is in truth no more than five mace."

"But if, as Your Majesty instructed, one carefully accounts for the labor and production costs, then I fear it would be one tael and five mace."

At this point, terrified that the Emperor would find it too expensive, he hastily knocked his head to the ground and added:

"If we become practiced at making them later, pressing it down to one tael and two mace… ought to be possible."

One tael and two mace.

Zhu Youjian nodded. In the Ming dynasty, this price was not cheap, but it was by no means expensive either.

He turned his head toward Gao Shiming:

"In the capital at present, roughly how much does the lowest grade of horse cost?"

Gao Shiming had been tipped off well in advance and now played his part in their prearranged duet:

"Your Majesty, in the metropolitan region, the cheapest inferior Mongol horse is five taels; if it is somewhat sturdier, it will be six taels or more."

Zhu Youjian continued his questioning:

"Then if we set aside campaigning and consider only pulling a cart or serving as a mount, how much in feed costs does one horse require per month?"

Gao Shiming declared in a clear voice:

"Since it is for everyday labor, we need not reckon the transport costs for military grain; we may calculate entirely at local market prices."

"A horse eats one bundle of hay per day, thirty bundles per month; at the current price of hay, that comes to two mace and one candareen of silver."

"It eats three sheng of beans per day, nine dou per month; at the price of beans, that comes to five mace and four candareen of silver."

"That is to say, each month one common-grade horse among the people consumes at minimum seven mace and five candareen of silver in feed."

"And this does not yet count the many incidental costs when a horse falls ill and needs a vet, injures a hoof and needs shoeing, and so forth."

The moment this account was laid out, a stir rippled through the surrounding officials.

Unreckoned, it was nothing; once reckoned, it was a shock.

Everyone now understood perfectly what His Majesty was setting up for comparison.

Watching their reactions, Zhu Youjian pointed at the bicycle and said:

"This bicycle, in its present form, is in truth still inferior to a horse."

"Its durability is inferior, for contrivances of iron and wood will always suffer wear, and must be oiled besides."

"Its speed and range are inferior; on a muddy road it cannot move at all, unlike a mule or horse, which can still cross hills and mountains."

"Its carrying capacity may even be inferior to an ox, since it is driven purely by human strength."

At this point, Zhu Youjian shifted his tone:

"But the crux of the matter is — it does not eat grain!"

He swept his gaze around, his eyes blazing:

"Compare a price of one tael and two mace against a horse's price of five taels; compare a dead thing that consumes nothing against a living creature that costs seven mace per month."

"The stakes here are already crystal clear."

"More importantly, raising horses requires feeding them beans — and those very beans could otherwise be used to keep people alive!"

"If this vehicle can replace even one horse or half a horse for the common folk, then the bean fodder saved can go to the people!"

"If applied to ten men, a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand — how many more common people could the grain saved then keep alive?"

At this point, Zhu Youjian's voice slowed slightly.

"Besides, the bicycle has only just been born — who can say how it will evolve in the future?"

"When gunpowder first appeared, it was nothing but waste from alchemists refining elixirs — at most used to set off fireworks for a laugh. Later it was used to blast city walls and open mines, shattering mountain rock."

"And now, our Great Ming already has matchlock muskets, has firelocks, even has red barbarian cannons."

"Did not the cannon itself go from being clumsy and prone to bursting at first, to today's precision-cast iron with exact powder charges?"

Zhu Youjian lightly patted the bicycle's handlebars:

"All things under heaven grow newer by the day."

"All are the present surpassing the past, the new surpassing the old."

"So it is with you, my ministers — and so it should be, even more, with this bicycle."

"This bicycle — though for now it is wood-boned and iron-sinewed, looking cumbersome and hard to ride."

"But what of ten years from now? A hundred years from now?"

"So long as the principle of investigating things does not break, so long as the fire of craftsman's ingenuity does not die out — how could it possibly remain forever in this form?"

"Do not bully a youth for his poverty — and do not bully this newborn creation for its clumsiness!"

Zhu Youjian looked at the assembly and said in a deep voice:

"Some days ago, several ministers submitted memorials urging me not to sink into frivolous tricks and contrivances, telling me to cultivate virtue instead."

He gave a cold laugh, clasped his hands behind his back, and stood there — the winter sunlight falling on his shoulders as if edged with a layer of gold.

"What is virtue? What is a sage?"

"The Book of Changes says: 'He who prepares implements for use and establishes devices to benefit all under heaven — none is greater than the sage!'"

Zhu Youjian's voice echoed across the square.

"'To prepare implements for men to use, to establish devices that bring profit to all under heaven — this is the greatest Way of the sage!'"

"The virtue of the sage lies in benefiting the state, in benefiting the people — and not merely in doctrines on the lips."

"To seek out the great Way of heaven and earth, then transform it for our own use, benefiting state and people — how can this be counted as frivolous tricks and contrivances?"

He spread his hands, helpless:

"I have no love for carpentry, nor any taste for cultivating immortality or refining elixirs, and still less any interest in wealth, treasure, or precious objects."

"Since ascending the throne, I have risen before dawn and eaten after dark. The sole pursuit of my life has been to surpass every dynasty before and strain with all my might against the toppling of Great Ming's heaven."

Zhu Youjian's gaze swept over the crowd, his voice carrying a note of perfectly measured grievance:

"Tell me — how can they slander me so?"

At these words, a deathly silence fell over the square.

And then, right after — a surge of righteous indignation.

Present were not only the "technocrats" of the Academy of Sciences, but also the senior eunuchs of the inner court in attendance.

Hearing the Emperor lay bare his heart like this, anyone who still failed to show their stance would be a fool.

"Your Majesty! This is the view of rotten scholars! They deserve execution!"

Gao Shiming was the first to kneel:

"Your Majesty has toiled for the affairs of state until even your hair has turned white in strands — we slaves see it with our own eyes! Those censorial curs — what the hell do they know of the sage's Way! Your Majesty is sagely and enlightened! We subjects would die ten thousand deaths!"

Xiong Mingyu and the other officials also knelt in succession.

"What Your Majesty practices is the Way of Yao and Shun! Those men sit at the bottom of a well and gaze at the sky — how could they know the ambition of the swan!"

"This subject begs Your Majesty to punish those who spoke recklessly!"

For a moment, the square was filled entirely with voices crying out against the Emperor's wrongs.

Watching this scene, Zhu Youjian nodded slightly to himself.

He had staged this not to stir up anyone's hearts — but to settle them.

After the School of Mind spread far and wide, the currents of thought in the Ming dynasty truly had a touch of Renaissance about them — genuinely open.

To speak of profit, of the craftsman's skill, of the utility of created things — this was by no means some subversive discourse anymore.

Yet the traditional Confucian viewpoint still held considerable sway.

Otherwise the Taizhou School would not have been crushed and scattered, nor would the madman Li Zhi have met the end he did.

As the Academy of Sciences kept demonstrating novel devices outside Guangqu Gate, and the Great Ming Times kept publishing scientific inquiries to stir the winds and clouds, the Way of science increasingly seized the public eye — and indeed drew quite a few memorials of remonstrance from hidebound Confucian ministers.

To these things, Zhu Youjian had always treated them as so much flatulence.

First submission goes unanswered; second submission gets a rebuke; if they dare submit a third time, wasting his precious time, they get a green reprimand as a warning. But while his own mindset was excellent, he feared affecting the mindset of these Doctors of Science — and feared even more affecting the mindset of a potential "Newton" or "Merton."

Now, like this — borrowing the sage's angle to stake out a doctrinal claim — it could be counted as applying a patch.