Chapter 905: Endless Joy

Pan Yun and the Ministry of Public Works moved with astonishing speed; after leaving Kunning Palace, she pulled out a ruler and began sketching.

She didn't need Pan Xiaohei to dig through the Spirit Realm's records—based on existing blueprints, she could design both wind-powered and water-powered looms herself, and even improved them to require even less effort.

Pan Yun worked overtime for two hours, finishing three blueprints at the deepest hour of night; she muttered, "I'm a graduate with five carts of learning—I shouldn't be unable to sketch such simple mechanical modifications."

Pan Xiaohei, curled up asleep by the stove, rolled over, patted a paw beside its ear, and pretended not to hear.

A cold wind blew past; Pan Yun set down her blueprints, glanced outside, and walked out without hesitation.

She looked up at the twinkling stars above, her gaze slowly shifting toward the southwest; after a long while, she clicked her tongue.

The stars in the southwest sky flickered erratically, their celestial pattern subtly altered.

The Spring Official, hunched over on duty at the Observatory, stared blankly, then finally reacted.

He groaned inwardly.

He'd only just started his shift three days ago—just started! Why me?!

The Spring Official silently picked up his record book and began writing; the next day, he showed up with dark circles under his eyes and glared at the Winter Official.

The Winter Official looked bewildered: "Why are you glaring at me?"

The Spring Official said: "Last year, the celestial signs were abnormal all year—summer, they changed; autumn, they changed drastically; winter, nothing happened; last night, they changed again!"

The Lunar New Year had just passed—spring had barely begun, yet the climate was still winter—and the celestial signs changed again.

The other four Officials all froze, then hurriedly asked: "What kind of change?"

The Spring Official scratched his face: "I can't tell what it means, but something's definitely changed in the southwest."

He handed them his recorded star charts.

Each of the four examined them carefully; due to insufficient data, none could determine the meaning.

So they all turned to look at the Summer Official.

Yin Song: "... Why are you looking at me?"

The Spring Official said: "We currently have no Director of the Imperial Astronomical Bureau—but we do have a State Tutor."

Yin Song expressionlessly shoved the observation book back into his hands: "The State Tutor is the State Tutor of all under heaven; you, Spring Official, can go find her yourself."

The Spring Official clung to Yin Song's hand, insisting on shoving the book back into it: "It's different—you're her senior brother."

The other Officials supported the Spring Official's plea.

In officialdom, how could anyone avoid owing favors?

Yin Song could refuse one or two, but not four at once—he couldn't hold out, so in the end, he took the observation book to find Pan Yun.

Pan Yun lived in a small courtyard beside the Imperial Astronomical Bureau, right next to the palace.

The entire courtyard belonged to her; previously, Seeing Miao Zhen and two others lived there, but after they left, only Pan Yun remained.

Of the entire Imperial Astronomical Bureau, only she, besides the on-duty Officials, was permitted to reside within the palace grounds at night.

Pan Yun flipped through the book.

Seeing her casually close the book, Yin Song knew she understood fully; he asked: "Did you see it last night?"

Pan Yun grunted: "Mm."

Yin Song sat up slightly: "What event does this celestial sign portend? Will there be a natural disaster in the southwest?"

"Not a natural disaster—a human one," Pan Yun tossed the book back at him, tapping her finger lightly on the table: "Tell Your Majesty: traitors have emerged in Lingnan—they will bring great calamity."

Yin Song's mouth dropped open: "Traitors? Who? Isn't Wang Zhen dead?"

Pan Yun rolled her eyes: "Does the whole world have only one traitor named Wang Zhen? Don't blame every misdeed on him. Without Wang Zhen, there's Liu Zhen, Zhang Zhen—the root isn't Wang Zhen, but the ones who used him."

Yin Song rolled his eyes: "If you've already divined that traitors have emerged in Lingnan, can't you divine his name?"

Pan Yun: "I've already steamed the rice—do you expect me to feed it to you mouth-to-mouth?"

Yin Song: "Help a fellow all the way to the west."

Last night, after observing the celestial anomaly, Pan Yun immediately searched the Spirit Realm and unearthed historical records.

In her past life, the eleventh year of Zhengtong—equivalent to 1446 AD, and this timeline's JingTai first year—the Guangxi garrison commander Liu Pu violated established laws, inciting rebellion; the Yao and Zhuang tribes rose in massive revolt, capturing Liuzhou and Huazhou in succession.

Thereafter, the Yao and Zhuang uprisings continued through the Jiajing era; even after the rebellions were suppressed, the root causes remained unresolved—in her past life, ethnic tensions weren't balanced until four centuries later.

Pan Yun didn't believe a celestial omen or a prophecy could resolve ethnic conflict; she only hoped to delay its outbreak, at least until this year.

The imperial treasury was empty; the new emperor had just ascended and lacked prestige; since last half-year, the court had been at war in the north, northeast, southwest, Jiangnan, and the southeast coast.

If Guangxi erupted again, Great Ming wouldn't collapse—but it would be severely strained; all progress would slow, and regional development would be constrained.

Pull one hair, and the whole body trembles—if Guangxi erupted, to fund the war, taxes would inevitably rise.

She knew well: at the start of this year, the Emperor had ordered that commercial taxes collected inside and outside Jingcheng must adhere strictly to the old Hongwu-era quotas, and no excuses under the paper currency system could justify increases.

Oh, I forgot to mention: due to the treasury's utter emptiness, before the Lunar New Year, the Ministry of Revenue had printed money like crazy to pay officials' salaries and cover spring expenses.

As a result, the Great Ming paper currency market flooded like a deluge; since the notes had no silver or gold backing, their value plummeted like a falling building.

The Emperor feared local offices would use the currency's depreciation as an excuse to raise commercial taxes, harming merchants and commoners—so he issued this decree.

A few days later, Yu Qian submitted a memorial: tax offices collected too little paper currency, officials were frequently absent, and salaries were wasted; he requested abolishing all tax offices that collected less than 30,000 guan annually, transferring commercial tax collection to local authorities.

This greatly benefited commerce.

With the tax offices abolished, policies changed accordingly—for example, the ship tax, previously 60 guan, was reduced to 20 guan.

Commerce was eased, agriculture not strictly enforced; ordinary people could engage in small trade during farming off-seasons without heavy or even any taxation—this was vital to the people's economy.

Last night, when she observed the celestial anomaly, Pan Yun realized: in her past life, the Ying Sect had similarly printed massive amounts of paper currency, issued the same decree, and Yu Qian had submitted the same memorial.

The Ying Sect agreed.

But only half a year later, due to enormous military expenditures and the Guangxi Yao uprising, the Ministry of Revenue could no longer bear the burden; tax offices were reinstated, taxes increased beyond initial levels, new levies were added—merchants and farmers alike suffered.

From this year onward, rebellions among the people grew increasingly frequent; thereafter, Great Ming faced peasant uprisings every single year.

Like a celestial maiden scattering flowers, sparks of fire ignited everywhere—extinguish one, another flares up.

Great Ming's future was forever at odds with peasant rebellions; officials, whether civil or military, fought peasants, schemed to siphon money into the treasury or their own pockets, battled heaven, battled the Emperor, battled colleagues, battled the masses, and battled themselves—endless joy.