Chapter 970: Hu Ying

Pan Yun: “I trust you, but your smelting techniques haven’t shown clear progress in years, and you’re not anxious about it.”

Hu Cheng muttered, “Human energy is limited; I’ve devoted all my mental effort to cannon research.”

Pan Yun: “Then your research isn’t thorough enough. Don’t cannons need steel or iron? If you don’t improve the materials, how can you improve the cannons? If you must improve the materials, how can you avoid improving the methods of smelting them?”

Hu Cheng had no reply.

Pan Yun unfurled the maps; now they had discovered and mined only a tiny fraction of the iron ore that would be found in later generations—many deposits remained undiscovered and unmined.

Hu Cheng leaned in: “Your Divine Grace, shall we now pursue iron mines?”

Pan Yun nodded.

Hu Cheng: “For building that railway?”

“Steel has countless uses. Besides, if I’m going to build railways, how could I build only one?”

Hu Cheng swallowed hard and turned to Chen Feng: “Chen Neiguan, you said last time you wanted to modify the iron furnaces?”

“Yes,” Chen Feng stepped forward. “To smelt iron into steel, the foremost requirement is temperature. Raising the temperature and accelerating heating will increase both iron and steel output. I’ve found we can add a heat-retention chamber to the furnace.”

Pan Yun’s eyes lit up; she immediately turned to face him: “Have you made progress?”

Chen Feng’s face flushed slightly; he spoke softly: “All current furnaces are in use—we can’t halt iron production to experiment. So we’d need to build a new furnace, and success isn’t guaranteed. It would cost heavily, and ministers have accused me of squandering public funds, so...”

Pan Yun looked at Hu Cheng.

Hu Cheng immediately said: “The imperial treasury is empty. What matter isn’t more urgent? The ministers fiercely oppose it, and Chen Neiguan himself isn’t confident—so...”

Pan Yun said: “I’ll ask the Emperor for funds. Chen Neiguan, prepare yourself. I’ll give you some diagrams and materials later—study them yourself. You must improve our iron and steel smelting techniques, especially cold forging and quenching.”

She added: “Steel made by this process won’t corrode or rust for a hundred years. Railways built from it will last a century.”

Chen Feng didn’t know what a railway was—did she mean laying iron plates on the road?

How would carts and horses move? Wouldn’t they slip or hurt?

Chen Feng had many questions, but he stole a glance at Hu Cheng and wisely stayed silent.

Pan Yun had memorized the map; she handed the blueprint back to Hu Cheng and asked, “Who in your department can prospect for iron ore? Send them out to find new deposits.”

Hu Cheng: “...Usually local authorities report findings, then we send people to verify. If confirmed, we dispatch Neichang personnel to mine. But actively searching for new deposits? We’re short on manpower...”

Pan Yun understood. She sighed: “The court keeps crying ‘excess officials, excess officials,’ yet many places have no one to spare. Not just our Ministry of Works—our prospectors and craftsmen—but also the state, county, and village schools under the Ministry of Rites: many draw salaries without working, yet every school desperately lacks teachers. Since Emperor Taizu promoted learning and opened schools seventy years ago, why is the literacy rate among common men only thirty to forty percent, and among women just ten percent?”

Hu Cheng blinked: “Your Divine Grace, why not pay a visit to the Ministry of Rites next door?”

This wasn’t even under his Ministry’s jurisdiction!

Pan Yun glanced at him, snorted, and turned to walk to the Ministry of Rites next door.

The Minister of Rites was also surnamed Hu—Hu Ying, styled Yuanjie, with the literary name Jie’an.

He was not only one of the Five Regents entrusted by Emperor Xuanzong, having served ten years as Minister of Rites, but also a physician.

Had he not taken office, Pan Yun believed he would have been her peer.

When the existence of cultivators was known to only a tiny few, he dared risk his reputation by recommending those connected to them.

Since becoming Divine Master, he had largely kept silent in court—but Pan Yun sensed he was the court official who held the greatest fondness for her, even more than Yu Qian, her usual collaborator.

Of course, excluding Xue Shao.

Yet she had never exchanged a word with this old minister. Pan Yun suddenly appeared outside his office, raised her hand, and knocked. The door creaked open with a long, mournful “squeak—ah—.”

Pan Yun: ...

Wasn’t this door already broken?

Pan Yun couldn’t help glancing inside.

Behind the desk sat an old man with white whiskers. He swiftly bundled the paper-wrapped item, shoved it into a drawer, brushed his beard, chewed a few times, then sat upright, eyes fixed on the door, and said sternly: “Enter.”

Pan Yun instantly withdrew her gaze, paused, then pushed open the door, already ajar by a third.

“squeak—ah—”

Another soul-sapping sound.

Pan Yun couldn’t help glancing down at the door hinge.

Hu Yuanjie squinted; Pan Yun stood in the dim light, and it took him a moment to recognize her: “Divine Master?”

Pan Yun bowed: “Minister Hu.”

Seeing her bow so deeply, Hu Yuanjie rose and reached to help her up: “Divine Master, no need for such formalities.”

She hadn’t bowed so deeply even to the Emperor!

Pan Yun smiled gently at the kind-faced Hu Yuanjie: “To elders, one must show respect.”

Hu Yuanjie chuckled, stroking his beard, his wrinkles coming alive with mirth.

Hu Yuanjie stepped aside to invite Pan Yun to sit.

Pan Yun walked forward and sat, then caught the sweet fragrance wafting from the desk.

She sniffed and smiled: “Osmanthus cake?”

Hu Yuanjie laughed, pulling out half a package: “Osmanthus cake from Guiyuan. Try some, Divine Master?”

The cake was pure white, dotted with golden osmanthus blossoms. Pan Yun pinched one, tasted it, and nodded: “Delicious.”

Hu Yuanjie beamed, picked up a piece himself—but before he could bring it to his mouth, Pan Yun tilted her head and asked: “But isn’t your health unsuited to eating too much?”

Hu Yuanjie froze; the cake remained suspended in his hand.

The old man and the young woman regarded each other. Finally, Hu Yuanjie set the cake down and sighed: “I am seventy. How many years remain? Even enjoying good food has become difficult.”

Pan Yun studied him, then smiled: “But I see signs of longevity in you—you could live another ten or twenty years, if you don’t indulge.”

Pan Yun held the remaining half of the cake: “Appetite is desire. It is a form of greed.”

Hearing he might live twenty more years, Hu Yuanjie immediately set the cake aside and smiled warmly: “Divine Master never visits without purpose. What brings you here today?”

Pan Yun: “I encountered difficulties in the Ministry of Works next door and came to seek your counsel.”

Pan Yun spoke of the Ministry’s staffing shortages: “Beyond the Ministry of Works, all other departments suffer similar shortages. The problem worsens in localities, especially where precision is required. Yet our Great Ming clearly suffers from excessive officials. Not only has Grand Secretary Yu submitted memorials on this issue multiple times, but even I have repeatedly observed empty salaries and bloated staff—four or five men doing the work of one.”

Hu Yuanjie stroked his beard and smiled faintly, wrinkles folding around his eyes: “Divine Master doesn’t misunderstand—you’re telling me you intend to reform.”