Chapter 67

Holy Monk 33 (the master's idol burden)

In a hidden private room of a certain tavern in the capital, Supervisor Zhang had been sitting here for a long time.

He was very patient, because the distinguished guest he was waiting for today was the Emperor.

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The Emperor came here today to settle accounts with Supervisor Zhang; looking at the thick stack of banknotes in his hand made him quite pleased.

As an emperor, he had accepted since childhood the notion that the emperor possesses the Four Seas and does not seek profit from the people; therefore, an emperor could never engage in trade.

This wool business was something he had people do in order to weaken the grasslands' strength; this plan could be called nothing short of vicious, and since the Emperor participated in the wool procurement, this matter absolutely must not be spread.

So he could only purchase wool through merchants who were tight-lipped and of good conduct.

He kept thinking that even if it meant a loss, he had to keep this business going long-term; he never expected to make so much money.

This made the Emperor ponder for a long time; he felt the inner treasury also needed silver, for if he relied only on the state treasury, every time he wanted to build a palace he would have to wrangle with the officials.

His little crown prince cannot in the future endure such a stifling life!

Besides, the excuse of not competing with the people for profit need only be heard; which official's household doesn't have a shop or something for its womenfolk?

"Your Majesty, the Hu people have become shrewd; perhaps they also noticed the connection between wool and woolen garments, so when they collected wool the second time they raised the price." Supervisor Zhang's chubby face showed eyes almost ready to weep from worry, "Moreover, this wool-spinning machine—I fear its secrecy won't last much longer; my workshop alone has had no fewer than ten batches of people come probing this month. If it weren't for the Emperor sending secret guards to watch over it, those spies would surely have made off with the machine."

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The woolen garment factory's profits are extremely high; now solely controlled by the Emperor alone, each year who knows how much money it earns for him.

If the machine were stolen, it would be an enormous loss for the woolen garment factory.

The Emperor sipped his tea unhurriedly, "Chanyu Shuwu is naturally shrewd; he controls the largest grassland and has the most sheep. If he weren't moved, I'd suspect something was wrong with him."

However, Chanyu Shuwu never expected it—he thought he had seen the second layer, but in fact they were on the fourth layer.

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After saying that, Supervisor Zhang added, "On the grasslands a thing called milk powder has appeared; it's said that children who drink it grow quickly and become strong and healthy." He spoke carefully for the master's sake, "I've heard it was concocted by Master Xuanji, who carelessly let the Hu people learn the secret of milk powder. The Hu are especially treacherous, and milk powder sells for a very high price."

The Emperor gave no affirmation in his heart; "Accidentally? He wouldn't believe that!"

Supervisor Zhang sighed silently; Master Xuanji's abilities are great and he has done favors for the imperial family, yet as a monastic he still has impure senses—how could he bring a son and become a monk?

The child named Jiang Si Yin is clearly a Central Plains person, yet he insists on becoming a Hu; no one knows what the master is thinking.

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That child is still young; returning now to Great Celebration he could still be reformed, but if he were older, upon returning to Great Celebration he would surely be branded with the mark of the grasslands, and then in Great Celebration he would have no foothold.

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Supervisor Zhang left the tavern quietly, full of worry; although he was stout, his steps were nothing like a fat man's clumsy heaviness—on the contrary, he walked swiftly, and his mind turned just as quickly.

He recalled that scene just now; it seemed the Emperor's trust in the master remained unchanged.

Old Chanyu Tieman also held the master in high regard; his agents stationed at the frontier market said that the old chanyu had even sent two Hu men to attend the master.

They are all smart people; who doesn't know that the old chanyu sending two Hu men serves the purpose of surveillance and protection—to prevent the master from leaving the grasslands?

Supervisor Zhang thought of the things the master had produced; speaking frankly, if he weren't privy to the inside story, he would truly have believed the master had devoted his heart and soul to the grasslands.

Haven't you seen how good the Hu people's lives are now? Even better than most Central Plains commoners.

However, those black feather grasses have also been planted in the dry, cold places of the Central Plains, and the same goes for oats.

Last month, a ship returning from overseas brought back a plant called the sweet potato, which he planted when spring arrived.

It seems the master once said that the sweet potato's yield is several times higher than that of oats.

Thinking of this, Supervisor Zhang smiled until his eyes narrowed.

The Emperor said, if it truly yields several times more, then I will grant him a title.

Would he count as the first person in Great Celebration history to be ennobled because of commerce?

The Emperor now places great importance on the power of merchants; he heard from his brother-in-law that the Emperor even wants to confer titles on merchants who have made outstanding contributions, albeit few.

Although they carry no real authority nor stipend, and may even be demoted, merchants still flock to this eagerly.

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The Hu people's good fortune makes the border subjects of Great Celebration extremely envious; some wealthy merchants and officials' households in the capital feed their children milk powder while complaining about Master Xuanji.

"Clearly a Central Plains person, yet he wholeheartedly sides with the Hu! All these good things are what he brought to the Hu! Now that the Hu have money, they will surely be able to raise more warhorses; when the two states go to war, Master Xuanji will be the chief culprit—he aids the enemy!"

"No, we must impeach him; he is nothing but a traitor to the nation!"

Thus, at that day's grand court assembly, the number of people impeaching Master Xuanji was very large.

The capital's populace closely followed this matter; they also knew that Master Xuanji had been impeached by an imperial envoy.

Soon they happily heard news coming from the Huangong that, reportedly, the Emperor's attitude toward Master Xuanji's conduct was most displeasing; having previously bestowed favor upon him for letting the crown prince be born smoothly, he directly withdrew most of it.

When word spread to the grasslands that Master Xuanji, while in the Central Plains, was despised by all the people of Great Celebration, it was exactly the time when the winter snow melted and the spring grass began to sprout.

The long winter finally passed; the clanspeople returned once more, and the area around the temples bustled again.

That winter, the livestock not only did not lose weight, but actually gained some flesh.

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Every winter, they most feared that the livestock would grow thin from eating dry hay and even freeze to death; now, with the master's feed formula, their property has at last been preserved.

The monks and Daoists sent by the Central Plains emperor to the grasslands also finally broke through in this winter.

What is laughable is that they succeeded not because of preaching or medical skill, but because the Hu people welcomed the Great Celebration language.

"Once we learn the official speech of Great Celebration, we can bargain with those Great Celebration merchants!" the Hu people said, full of vigor.

When the weather turns warm, the wool can be harvested again, and there is milk powder; it is said that in Great Celebration these are precious items that can fetch heavenly prices—just these two things alone would let them earn a great deal of silver.

Upon hearing the news from the Central Plains, the old chanyu's reaction was to give Master Xuanji a large sum of incense-oil money, openly and covertly squeezing the Central Plains emperor.

The master's expression was calm, showing no joy or sorrow; he simply held his prayer beads and uttered a Buddhist chant.

The reaction of the lower- and middle-class Hu people was to donate gold to the bodhisattva.

Master Xuanji's self-built temple was very simple, but enthusiastic Hu people bought lacquer from the Central Plains at a high price and painted the temple until it shone with gold and azure, even gilding the bodhisattva's body.

Jiang He couldn't help rubbing his dazzled eyes, feeling deeply that his undertaking was doing well.

Look at how enthusiastic those Hu people are, how resolute their hearts toward the Buddha— in the Great Qing he wanted to gild a bodhisattva, yet he didn't know how much effort it would take.

Chieftain Shuwu Chanyu once signaled to the two Hu guards monitoring the master that it would be best to keep Master Xuanji's heart on the steppe.

The facts prove that the master indeed wished to stay on the steppe; to the people of the Great Qing, his actions were hardly different from treason, and now everyone in the Great Qing bears ill will toward him, so he certainly would not be happy to return.

The Hu people who have already tasted the benefits of farming are now asking Master Xuanji for advice; he is a strongman capable of yielding three and a half dan of oats, while even the most skilled slave on the steppe can at most grow three dan. Master Xuanji teaches them to fertilize: "The soil needs top-dressing, or the harvest will be poor."

However, cow and sheep dung and the like are all picked up by the Hu people— this is excellent fuel.

As for people, wanting convenience is simple; nobles pay attention and will set up a chamber pot or the like, having slaves empty it onto the grass outside the tent during the day, while lower-class Hu people simply relieve themselves anywhere on the steppe, thus fertilizing the grass.

Thus the Hu people obediently built simple thatched toilets, and these things would henceforth be the farm fertilizer the master spoke of.

Jiang Siyin was very pleased about this.

Heaven knows how often he walks the steppe, and each time he accidentally steps on "gold" his heart feels near breaking; from now on it'll be fine— when playing hide-and-seek with his companions in the grass, he'll no longer worry about stepping on something he shouldn't.

The temple's new appearance was too eye-catching; passing Hu people couldn't help but glance at it a few more times.

The Second and Third Princes were no different; each time that gleaming gold color flashed in their eyes, a surge of killing intent would rise in their hearts.

In past springs, the Hu people would set aside time to train their bodies.

They are a people of the horseback, their plundering bloodline inherited from their ancestors.

However, now the Hu people in spring are busy sowing wheat and forage grass, hoping for a good harvest in autumn.

Even the children who used to frolic everywhere in spring, wrestling, butting heads, racing horses and having a blast, now followed the adults to sow wheat.

The busy children gazed at the fields where wheat seed had been scattered, imagining that when the wheat was harvested they could eat sweet snacks.

The master's son Batu was the envy of all the children on the steppe; the snacks he ate were delicacies they had never tasted in their lives, said to be made from wheat.

They also wanted to eat them, and did so every day.

An adult working nearby slapped the child awake, exclaiming, "Sugar is so expensive, and you eat it every day— are you trying to fly to heaven?"

Whenever the Second and Third Princes saw this scene, they increasingly wanted to kill that bald head.

Children who once loved war games have now become obsessed only with eating, and they even voluntarily go out to work the fields— the future of the steppe is worrying!

If the next generation can't fight, and the fighting-capable elders step down, won't the steppe be crushed by the Central Plains?

If one had to hire people every winter to build earthen beds, no amount of money would be enough to waste.

The parrot gave him a dead-fish stare; it shouldn't have to worry about him, with the dog host's heart so dirty— why would it need a single system to worry?

Even Jiang Siyin's education was taken over by Jiang He, who, when idle, would wander the steppe all day, sometimes lying on the back of a sea eagle to go for a ride.

After all, the Hu people so revere Master Xuanji, believing he sincerely intends to stay on the steppe, and they will surely regard his departure as betrayal.

Hu people who send their children to school are quite generous, readily giving the sesame-oil money as tuition.

In the end, who knows what he thought of, but his face was full of pleased expression.

These Hu people finally realized that the people who built houses last autumn considered the surrounding land suitable for wheat as theirs by default.

When migrating, they had to abandon the earthen beds they had built the previous year— the heartache need not be mentioned— and if they had a fixed dwelling, there would be no need to discard the earthen beds.

"Master Xuanji said that after autumn he would enroll another batch of students; then, if you work hard and manage to pass, your father will support your studies."

The parrot said, "If you leave without cause, the people here on the steppe will also come to hate you."

Women do not yearn to gallop across the steppe like men; they rather long for a settled life.

Sangya's father looked at the two Hu families with their faces bruised and swollen from fighting, secretly glad that his own house had been built early— otherwise, with so few family members, how could they have prevailed?

Not long after, Master Xuanji became even more famous; fans of his were everywhere on the steppe, and whenever they saw him they would thrust all sorts of things into his hands while subtly urging him to produce more.

The Third Prince instantly flared up, shouting, "I can eat beef and mutton!"

In the past, after horses, cattle and sheep had grazed a patch of grass bare, they had to migrate to another place with abundant water and vegetation.

Not only did the children want to hear stories, the adults did as well.

Everyone also drank the milk tea from the Auspicious Temple.

The merchants of the Great Qing are too crafty— buying milk powder from them and then reselling it at a tenfold markup!

He let out a deep sigh; now that the external threat was gone, they began infighting— this is human nature, and it seems they will have to leave early.

Moreover, the land around where they settled is very suitable for growing oats.

Jiang He showed the parrot a smile as pure and elegant as a white lotus, saying, "So this poor monk needs to find a scapegoat; my idol's burden is a bit heavy, and I want to keep an immaculate, innocent image. Well, this poor monk must improve his image— only when something beautiful is destroyed can people's hatred be aroused."

The Third Prince gave an uneasy cold snort; he liked the monk's story, but he didn't like the monk himself.

If there were a brick-and-tile house like Master Xuanji's, the heated bed would surely not break.

The story the master is now telling is about a monk who took a monkey and a pig as disciples and journeyed to the West to obtain the scriptures, and all the children listened, stunned.

Yet he felt that monk harbored ulterior motives; the pastries he brought to the steppe might well be poisonous.

Eating beef and mutton builds strength, but eating too much of this might make one as soft and limp as the Qing dynasty folk!

The Third Prince's consort, of noble birth, had just confirmed her pregnancy two days ago; now her temper was especially foul, and she slapped him, saying, "You ate six of these cakes last night! If you can, don't eat them— these are also the crops Master Xuanji taught us to grow!"

Plump and chubby Jiang Siyin: …

But her husband absolutely refuses to build a house, saying migration is tradition, and she is practically dying of anger.

The Third Prince's consort gave a cold snort, "Poor you, you won't even get to eat beef and mutton; the master taught us to plant alfalfa, and now cattle and sheep all eat this grass— you haven't noticed that migrations on the steppe have become far less frequent?"

After the oats were sown, the earthen kiln that Master Xuanji built last autumn began to gain popularity.

Who knows how sharp a single parrot's eyesight is— it can spot a motionless rabbit hiding in the grass below; with a big patron, the sea eagle never lacks food.

Thus, village schools sprang up everywhere on the steppe.

Jiang He gazed downward with a gentle look.

Now life on the steppe is good, and Hu parents are not stingy about that bit of tuition; they are also calculators— the more they interact with Great Qing merchants and understand the situation, the less they will be taken advantage of.

The Third Prince's consort did not want to deal with him.

Following those monks and Taoist priests, they studied Great Celebration Mandarin for a winter; now many Hu people open their mouths with advertising slogans.

Their parents said that Great Celebration merchants are shrewd; the price gap between the wool they sell and woolen clothing is too large, so they must study the Qing Court's language and script well, to haggle a good price with the merchants next time.

Hai Dongqing is especially flattering toward this parrot.

A Hu child runs in and says, "Ba Tu, come quickly, your father is about to start class."

Since those two Hu scouts took up residence in the temple, the parrot has rarely spoken in front of people.

These Hu merchants have become very shrewd, even using Master Xuanji as an advertisement, stating that this was made by Master Xuanji for his beloved son; look at his son, who used to be skinny, now drinks milk powder and has become plump and white.

Seeing this, they want to build houses even more; even if they settle by the water, they can still reside permanently in winter.

The Master still has to conduct morning lessons, so all teaching is scheduled for the afternoon.

The robust Hu man couldn't help but sigh, bending over to lift his son.

It should still go find Hai Dongqing to play.

The purpose is obvious: to raise the price again!

From this, they will surely hurry to build a house, claim land for planting, lest a delay lets others snatch the good land.

Shu Wu Chanyu, after hearing today's story update, said to his sons, "The Qing Court is no good; the Master is so talented yet despised by the emperor, just as the Master's story says, monsters with backers were rescued, those without were killed. Our grassland is better; we respect talent, and talent is the greatest backing."

Although next winter they can move back to their original spot to overwinter, the clay beds left behind have no tent cover, no one maintains them; wind and rain batter them, the grass grows wildly, and by next winter they will surely be unusable.

After a warm winter, the Hu people must migrate again.

Could such a marvelous story still exist in this world?

Great Celebration also has milk tea, which is quite popular, but it doesn't seem as good as that of this temple; could it be because the grassland is the source of milk powder? Once the milk powder reaches the Central Plains, it's not as fresh?

On the vast grassland, oats can now be seen everywhere.

Although there is trade, many Central Plains caravans still like to come and collect goods, arriving each spring and autumn.

His household's wife, the Third Prince's consort, however, likes the changes the monk brings, each learning to cook from the monk.

Then house after house was built.

Some Hu people deliberately visited those Hu families who had built houses, finding their cattle and sheep all fine; even the strongest grassland wind couldn't blow them, and the clay beds stayed warm.

The monks and Taoist priests sent by the Central Plains emperor saw this, and they slapped their heads, realizing the missionary work was this unsuccessful because they hadn't found the right method. They could also achieve indirect salvation; as for stories, they have plenty.

Even Lao Chanyu couldn't help but be fascinated, having the Hu who are proficient in Sinology record outside the classroom.

Outside the temple, a seven- or eight-year-old child listens to the reading sounds coming from the temple, and no matter how the parents pull, they cannot take the child away.

The children's study schedule is very humane: after half an hour of study they rest for a while; occasionally he makes incredibly delicious snacks for them, and there is a story every day.

The children sitting below each have a plate with fine sand inside; they use small sticks to practice Great Celebration characters on the sand surface.

The Hu are also pleased to save some stall fees, especially the business‑savvy Prince, who collected a lot of wool in advance and raved to Great Celebration merchants about his milk powder.

The Third Prince has to admit that the food is extremely delicious; no matter how much one eats, there's no worry of constipation or hemorrhoids, no longer a nightmare.

Merchants from the Central Plains also went to the newly built Auspicious Temple of Master Xuanji to burn incense and worship Buddha; after all, the sky is high and the emperor far, and the emperor never explicitly rejected the Master, so they merely burned incense.

Jiang Siyin couldn't help but pat his head; he just doesn't understand why grassland children are now so interested in Sinology. Previously, they only liked horseback warfare, shouting that when they grew up they'd go to Great Celebration to chase the autumn wind, and so on.

Regardless of time or dynasty, parents always place great importance on their children's education.

They study desperately every day; the Master once said that if anyone learns poorly, no stories will be told. Now not only do the children supervise each other, but the parents also monitor their children's studies, and they want to hear stories.

The contradictions appear faster than Jiang He had anticipated.

In the simple classroom sit twenty‑to‑thirty Hu children; he picks up a basic piece of chalk and writes on the blackboard.

Now these lands can grow alfalfa, so they no longer need to migrate frequently.

The Third Prince couldn't help but get angry, "Do you think this is a good thing? Our grassland's nomadic customs are gone; now everyone wants to be lazy, only wants to farm and not move, even horseback riding has dwindled; how will we be able to draw bow and arrow later?"

The child's eyes lit up, "Father, I will study earnestly; first buy me Qing Court books. If I can read, my chances will be greater than others."

The children all think this learning is practically heaven; no wonder people from the Qing Court go bankrupt trying to study.

Jiang He deeply feels that if he truly becomes a teacher, he would certainly make a fortune on the grassland.

Soon, kilns rose across the grassland, and countless bricks were fired.

During this period, many fights broke out over the most suitable oat fields.

She only knows that with less migration, there is less hardship, so children, the elderly, and frail women won't collapse because of it.

He must go in to hear the freshest!

Adults who drink it become strong and healthy; children who drink it become smarter and grow taller; for children lacking breast milk, this is a lifesaving good thing!

The Hu are very pleased, but the Third Prince feels awkward; farming is not the style of their immortal warriors.

Master Xuanji's stories are truly delightful; after hearing the little companions retell them, they become even more craving.

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