Chapter 350: Setting Sail with the Wind, Radiant with Brilliance

Wanli Eighth Year, seventh month, Bing Shen.

The Directorate of Ceremonial petitioned for a new imperial banner and dragon flag, and ordered the Ministry of Works to replicate the form of Emperor Wu Zong’s design, assigning craftsmen to assist in its construction.

Appointed Luo Sigong, Assistant Regional Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, as Commander of the Imperial Guard for the Grand Military Commission, overseeing six hundred personal guards.

……

This year can be said to be the one in which tensions, since the Longqing-Wanli era, have concentrated and erupted.

The major northern garrisons, revitalized by the Grand Military Commission, have had their jurisdictional authority redrawn, leaving every commander below the Regional Commander in turmoil.

In central and northeastern China, the people have suffered under the renewed land surveys and household audits by the Inspection Office; peasant uprisings flared and died out in quick succession, the sound of bamboo poles striking flesh never ceasing.

The southwestern provinces each had their own distinct troubles.

Yunnan endured repeated raids by the Toungoo Dynasty, exhausted from defense and in dire straits; Sichuan’s corrupt officials, having been reprimanded for years, had grown listless after Hai Rui’s departure and were slowly reverting to old ways; Guizhou’s native chieftains spent their days raping women and castrating Han men, living in bliss—until Yang Yinglong of Bozhou betrayed them, provoking Provincial Governor Wen Chun into furious action.

The Jiangnan region was even more chaotic: peasant revolts sparked by land surveys, Huizhou Prefecture’s preemptive abolition of the head tax, and an inexplicable surge in regional rivalries—seemingly endless troubles.

Throughout the Great Ming, the entire realm truly boiled like a pot of water, churning without pause.

Yet.

Even amid such turmoil across the land, there were still quiet places.

For instance, the Fujian Provincial Administration Commission, since the southern altar sacrifice last year, had produced no disturbances.

This was because Provincial Governor Li Zaiting was a court official exiled to the provinces, who had risen from Deputy Commissioner of the provincial Finance Bureau, surviving countless struggles step by step until he reclaimed his position.

He flattered superiors and ruled subordinates with brutal severity, defeating countless officials and colleagues, and after years of consolidating power as a frontier governor, he now held absolute authority, his word final.

Not even incidents like Zhejiang’s newspapers sending threatening letters to governors and surveillance officials could occur here.

Even if a subordinate or powerful local arrived a moment late to the governor’s meeting, he would immediately be seized under the armpits by three or five large men, his chair yanked away, forced to stand and listen.

This man, moreover, was a corrupt official who cared nothing for reputation, obsessed with office, his mind filled only with pleasing the new policies to return to the center, constantly pressuring colleagues with the Examination System to stage false achievements.

The Fujian bureaucracy had been wound tight like a spring; even the practice of oppressing the countryside had been tempered by a third, leaving the atmosphere lifeless.

Thanks to Fujian’s early-advantage pilot program begun in Longqing Sixth Year, the land survey progressed steadily and was now fully completed—Fujian’s land and grain survey concluded, the Ministry endorsed its formal codification and inclusion in the Yellow Registers, to prevent the powerful from altering records.

Moreover, the frequent pirate raids that had plagued the coast had visibly diminished since Yu Dayou’s promotion to the Grand Military Commission, following years of suppression and Fujian’s further relaxation of the maritime ban and reorganization of the Maritime Trade Office.

Struggles were not intense; the official and scholarly atmosphere was cold and quiet.

Yet precisely because of this, small merchants and common folk within the province had gained a slight respite beneath the weight of the mountains, becoming livelier.

Especially the ports.

The Yuegang port, opened during Longqing, needed no mention—its two-li coastline hosted seven piers, with 124 imported and exported goods, becoming the favorite haunt of Zhangzhou’s commoners.

Fuzhou port, once thriving since Han and Tang times, had declined after the early maritime ban, but revived swiftly after reopening in the early Wanli era.

As the seat of Fujian’s Maritime Trade Office, a hub for coastal trade and the mandatory stop for foreign tributary envoys, Quanzhou port, managed by officials and operated by the people, had built several grand temples to Mazu, drawing daily crowds of small merchants and commoners come to worship.

Only Anping Port in Jinjiang County, Quanzhou, lagged half a field behind.

Originally established as a supplement after Quanzhou’s decline, it had risen through smuggling; after the maritime ban was lifted, the court reorganized and restructured it, intending to restore it as a deep-sea port as in Yongle’s time.

But since Zheng’s time, the dynasty had long ceased deep-sea voyages; without ships sailing out, the port naturally saw few people.

Only on special occasions did it become lively.

For instance, previously, when the second replica of the Yongle treasure ship, built by the Longjiang Shipyard, set sail from Liujiagang in Taicang, conducted trials around Tianjin, Dengzhou, and Huai’an, and arrived last month at Fujian’s Anping Port.

The massive treasure ship, accompanied by over a hundred escorting ocean-going vessels, cargo-laden Fuzhou ships, and warships, lined up bow to stern, entering the port in perfect unison and anchoring in orderly rows.

It drew crowds of merchants and commoners, all clamoring to watch, the scene wildly bustling.

Since this was a voyage awaiting favorable winds, the spectacle naturally involved both arrivals and departures.

Indeed, today marked the second such spectacle—everything prepared, the Wanli treasure ship was finally about to set sail with the wind!

Before dawn, the pier was already packed with a dense throng of onlookers.

Heads surged, eyes strained upward.

The salty, briny scent of the tide rolled ashore.

In the darkness, the creak of ropes against wooden bollards, the shouts of helmsmen calling directions, the muffled thud of anchors striking water never ceased.

No one knew how long it had lasted.

The red sun slowly rose above the sea.

Golden light danced on the waves, illuminating the entire harbor, stretching miles wide.

A colossal treasure ship, its hull embroidered with cloud-dragon patterns, emerged slowly into the daylight like a mountain unveiling its veil.

Instantly, it seized every eye.

All looked up.

The monstrous vessel, nineteen zhang long, stretched across the harbor; five masts with seven sails soared into the clouds; the prow’s tiger-head carving glared with bared fangs; cannons lined its sides, gleaming coldly, menacingly.

Smaller Fuzhou ships, warships, and ocean-going vessels clustered around it, making it appear like a patriarch among children.

Gilded hues barely pierced the towering deckhouses, casting half-shadow, half-light over the countless upturned faces on the pier.

As sunlight bathed the scene, the treasure ship’s appearance seemed to instantly awaken the entire port.

Red banners fluttered, gongs and drums thundered, firecrackers exploded.

Small merchants and common folk all beamed with excitement, dancing and waving.

Big is good! Big is strong! Big is glory before men!

Meanwhile,

Within the pier’s official office, final paperwork was being exchanged.

“Measured: treasure ship length nineteen zhang, width three zhang two chi, depth one zhang five chi, divided into twenty-three holds; forward mainmast seven zhang four chi long, circumference six chi six cun; aft…”

“Verified: eight hundred bags of rice, four hundred barrels of drinking water, various medicines, one hold of bean sprouts…”

The sounds of verification and cross-checking never ceased.

Only after no errors were found would the official seal of the Fujian Maritime Trade Office be stamped.

Of course, this was the work of clerks, exhausting and relentless.

The true high officials, untouched by dust, had already retreated to the upper pavilion to rest, waiting for the treasure ship to depart.

Sun Long faintly heard the commotion below and sighed sincerely: “I am deeply indebted to Minister Li’s extensive coordination, which ensured sufficient supplies for this voyage.”

The Taicang Treasury had indeed allocated silver for this expedition.

But procuring large quantities of goods in such a short time was not as simple as setting a price.

“Serving the state is the duty of an official; deep-sea voyages are public affairs—there is no question of thanks.”

Li Zaiting sat opposite him at the tea table, holding the teapot in his right hand, circling the cup counterclockwise; he did not look up, smiling as he replied.

Sun Long glanced at the man’s expression and felt inexplicably uneasy.

This Provincial Governor Li, exiled from the capital for years, had somehow developed the same habit as Yan Song—always smiling at others, like a smiling tiger!

Especially when he smiled with narrowed eyes—it was truly chilling!

“Grand Eunuch Sun, when do you expect to return from your journey to the distant isle?”

Li Zaiting paused his “Guan Gong’s patrol” tea-pouring motion, pouring tea as he asked with apparent concern.

Sun Long instinctively rose slightly from his seat, showing deference: “Minister Li, according to the planned route, the round trip will take at least a year.”

Li Zaiting gently waved his hand, lightly pressing down on Sun Long’s half-risen form: “Will you proceed via Champa and the former Jiaozhi Pacification Commission, or through Luzon?”

Sun Long forced a crooked smile and apologized.

He sat back on the needle-strewn seat, both hands reaching for the cup: “His Majesty has explicitly ordered us to anchor at Malacca and contact the Han people.”

Here, Sun Long seemed to recall something and added: “The Four Barbarians Office has recently retranslated the names of overseas regions—Malacca is now called Malacca.”

Li Zaiting showed no expression, nodding indifferently, as if he already knew.

Since the Emperor ordered anchoring at Malacca, he clearly intended to revive the former Jiaozhi Pacification Commission.

The court cannot even retain the Nuergan Commission—yet now it dreams of reclaiming overseas outposts. Truly…

Truly befitting of His Majesty!

Such vision, embracing the four seas and heavens—who besides the Founding and Chengzu Emperors could match him!?

In contrast, Sun Long was still far from fully ingratiating himself with flattery.

After mentioning the Emperor, Grand Eunuch Sun offered not a single compliment, but hurried on with his explanation.

“Thus, outbound route: through the Taiwan Strait, via Champa, temporarily anchoring at Malacca, then southward through Sumatra, past Java’s Surabaya, anchoring at Timor—known as Zhe Li Wen—finally reaching the distant isle, approximately one hundred and twenty days.”

“After exiling the Liu Shiyan clan and over one hundred and seventy convicts, the Marquis of Pacified Seas must also survey and construct a port on-site, requiring at least two months.”

“Return journey: only via Banten, then resupplying along the way, returning directly via the Dongsha Islands, approximately one hundred days.”

Though the route, reconstructed from ancient records, aligns closely with foreign tribute maps, unforeseen incidents remain possible.

Just as when Zheng He first sailed, he was forced to fight the eastern and western kings of Majapahit.

Additionally, pirates must be summoned and pacified.

Reassembling the Han people of the former Jiaozhi Pacification Commission.

Trading local goods, offloading tea, silk, sesame oil, and more…

Precisely because so many uncertainties exist, time can only be estimated as “at least.”

Regardless, this period of isolation, adrift far from home, will not be less than a year.

Yet though the task sounded arduous, Sun Long’s expression was unusually excited.

Even a eunuch longs for a name etched in history!

This is Zheng He’s legacy!

When warships gleamed and banners fluttered, racing atop thundering waves, thirty-odd nations of the southern seas bowed before our banners—neither Ban Chao nor Fu Jiezi could rival it!

And how could a man with beard and brow willingly sink into flattery and weakness?—glorious deeds lie before us; who would choose to spend a lifetime as a smooth, powerless, insignificant man?

Three captures of pirate chieftains, awe-inspiring overseas—on this round trip, Sun Long too shall shine alongside Zheng He!

The two men inside were speaking.

A shuffling sound came from outside.

Li Zaiting and Sun Long both turned to look outward.

The door was not closed; a figure clad in armor and helmet appeared at the threshold.

“Minister Li, Envoy Sun.”

It was none other than the Marquis of Pacifying the Sea, Zhu Shitai, one hand resting on his sword, striding in with firm steps.

Sun Long immediately rose to return the greeting.

Li Zaiting rose slightly from his seat, smiling in acknowledgment.

“Marquis of Pacifying the Sea.”

Since inheriting his title, Zhu Shitai had ruled his household for years and long since shed his youthful frivolity.

Now, reporting official matters, he was solemn and grave: “Envoy Sun, I have inspected all your treasure ships and the hundred accompanying vessels.”

“All accompanying officials, soldiers, interpreters, astronomers, foreign laborers, and helmsmen are accounted for.”

“The family of the Earl of Sincerity, along with several condemned criminals, have been securely detained.”

By rights, the nobles’ rank should be higher.

But for expeditions to the Western Seas, it depends on the imperial commission.

Since there is a clear edict: “Dispatch eunuch Sun Long and others with imperial edicts to instruct the Western Sea states and bestow upon their kings gold-woven brocade, patterned silk, and colored satin in varying degrees,” Zhu Shitai must report to the eunuch.

Sun Long nodded in understanding.

With personnel confirmed, he and Zhu Shitai should now board the ship.

He turned to Li Zaiting and bowed: “I’ve troubled Minister Li for many days; it is time for this servant to depart.”

The port’s document verification is not yet complete, but the chief envoy is not idle—he must board early to prepare.

In plain terms, he must go aboard and give a speech, rally the men.

Li Zaiting also stood, apologetic: “The Maritime Trade Office still has some loose ends; I can only respectfully watch you off.”

Saying this, he bowed far toward Beijing, earnestly praying: “May the Emperor’s protection grant you a smooth voyage.”

Sun Long and Zhu Shitai exchanged glances, then both bowed northward together.

“We shall not fail the Emperor’s great trust!”

As mere acquaintances in official circles, no tearful farewells were needed.

After bidding each other farewell, the two chief and deputy envoys simply turned and walked out.

Li Zaiting watched them go with a smile.

Zhu Shitai lagged a step behind, glanced at the Fujian Provincial Governor inside, hesitated a moment, then casually shut the door.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs faded away; the room fell silent once more.

Only then did Li Zaiting drop his smile, looking weary.

He glanced down at the teacup on his desk—just brewed, untouched.

He shook his head, sighed, grabbed one cup in each hand, and drained them both in one gulp.

Seven years.

It took a full seven years to bring Fujian’s situation to this state!

Compared to when he first arrived in Fujian, one could truly say his mission was accomplished.

At that time, the order for land survey met with hollow compliance: “Let the people report their own holdings,” without a single acre ever being measured.

Now, the resentment of the powerful families became the finest epilogue to the survey’s conclusion.

All mountain and paddy fields measured, only the sea and blue sky remain—no idle islets left; tell the gulls not to sleep carelessly.

At that time, authority over coastal patrols was a tangled mess; the Provincial Governor’s office sought to reorganize, transferring the Fujian Southern Circuit’s patrol duties to the Maritime Patrol Office.

The Imperial Commissioner for Military Reorganization and Acting Assistant Surveillance Commissioner of Fujian Southern Circuit defiantly refused, gathering troops and shouting: “How can the Fujian Southern Circuit not oversee military affairs?!”

Now, under Yu Dayou’s firm control, all coastal forts, patrols, garrisons in Fujian, including troop selection, grain and pay inspections, and shipbuilding and repair, must report to the Maritime Patrol Office for exclusive management—Yu Dayou’s old troops from Jinjiang naturally took the anti-piracy mission to heart, acting as the Provincial Governor’s extended arm.

At that time, the Maritime Trade Office was merely a hollow title.

Above, provincial and prefectural authorities encroached on its authority; the Garrison Eunuch repeatedly petitioned prefectures and counties: “Follow the edict and clarify your duties,” yet the Three Departments and Inspection Courts remained unmoved.

Below, “bureaucratic factions” at every port—including clerks from the Grain Supply Office and Coastal Defense Office—colluded, turned the tables, and established monopolies: “Officials above exploit, merchants below are bled dry. When reporting cargo, they hide half; when measuring ships, they hide a third; officials grow corrupt, clerks grow fat; supplies shrink, clerks grow full.”

Even the simple act of launching a single plank into the sea required their permission!

Now…

Li Zaiting stretched, then slowly walked to the window.

The Wanli treasure ship’s departure meant the final piece of the puzzle was now in place!

It was time for this Fujian Provincial Governor to move up in the world!

“Uncle Four…”

The sudden voice startled Li Zaiting.

He turned to find his nephew standing behind him!

Startled, Li Zaiting, regardless of propriety, snapped: “What uncle? When you were castrated and sent to court, I warned you—there is a clear boundary between inside and outside; address each other by official title!”

Li Wen shrank his neck, heart heavy.

He was, after all, a blood nephew; wasn’t it just that he and his brothers enjoyed male companionship too much, leaving no heirs? Why such cruel words?

No wonder gossip about Uncle Four spread throughout Fujian—this face of smiling to superiors and unpredictable rage toward subordinates was truly unlikable!

He forced himself to compose himself and bowed: “Your humble servant, Deputy Director of the Fujian Maritime Trade Office, reports to Minister.”

After his outburst, Li Zaiting’s anger had eased somewhat.

He gave a soft “hmm”: “We’re family; no need for such formality. Speak—what is it?”

Li Wen choked, nearly gasped for air.

He stood frozen, unsure whether to bow or rise.

Standing there, near tears, he dropped the formalities: “The ocean-going vessels have been fully inspected by the Maritime Trade Office.”

Li Zaiting showed no reaction.

That meant customs clearance was complete; they could set sail anytime.

But that wasn’t the point—Li Wen clearly meant something else.

Indeed, Li Wen paused, glanced at his uncle, then mumbled: “Additionally, over twenty ocean-going junks and small Fuzhou ships wish to sail together under this opportunity.”

Li Zaiting was confused, his brow furrowing again.

His expression darkened, voice cold: “Be clear—who owns these ships? Where are they going? To some remote island? What do you mean by ‘under this opportunity’?”

Seeing his uncle’s displeasure, Li Wen blurted everything out: “They belong to the Princess Imperial, the Marquis of Wuqing, the Duke of Ying, the Earl of Pingjiang, and their circle!”

“Not to some remote island—to Japan!”

“They were rebuffed by the Earl of Ding’an in Zhejiang, so they came to us, hoping to follow behind Envoy Sun, so as not to draw attention.”

The Princess Imperial’s ships?

Li Zaiting thought for a long while before suddenly understanding.

Coastal trade was gradually being relaxed; ocean-going permits had only just begun.

This group of imperial relatives was trying to legitimize their ventures by petitioning the Emperor, but more likely, they planned to make profits first and patch up paperwork later! These imperial kin were truly parasites!

Thinking of this, Li Zaiting looked again at his nephew, sizing him up.

Without realizing it, he tilted his head, eyes narrowing.

Li Wen felt a chill run down his spine.

He forced a weak smile: “Uncle Four…”

He hadn’t even finished speaking when he was cut off.

Li Zaiting’s eyes were now slits: “You only came to tell me now, right after they’ve already received approval from the Maritime Trade Office?”

Li Wen’s face paled; he instinctively stammered: “N-no…”

Li Zaiting stood motionless, silently watching.

Silence fell between them; the air grew colder.

Cold sweat soaked Li’s back.

How long passed, no one knew.

Finally, Li Wen broke, his entire body collapsing from bone to skin, voice trembling: “The Princess Imperial has sent many gifts over the years; ocean-going bans are about to be lifted anyway; it’s a small matter, no real risk—I agreed.”

“I feared you’d find out early and refuse…”

His expression was regretful, his tone pleading.

Li Zaiting seemed listless, sighing quietly.

He didn’t know why he sighed.

He shook his head, melancholy: “Why so many ships for their first voyage to Japan?”

Li Wen answered quickly: “They’ve brought many men—Japan is in chaos now; they need private soldiers for protection.”

“Also, over a hundred fengshui masters and geomancers, along with all sorts of odd rituals, are taking up space.”

Li Zaiting froze.

Fengshui and geomancy? Are they going to trade—or to grave-robbing?

Li Wen hesitated, then cautiously explained: “It seems the Marquis of Wuqing heard this secret while visiting Empress Dowager.”

“One of Zheng He’s purposes in sailing west was to find the whereabouts of the Jianwen Emperor.”

After seven expeditions, they finally found a few traces!”

“It’s said that…”

Li Wen suddenly stopped, glancing around.

Seeing the dilapidated buildings, he lowered his voice to a whisper, sneaking: “It’s said that when the Jianwen Emperor fled Nanjing with the national treasury, under the protection of his old loyalists, he took refuge by becoming a monk at Zhaoqing Temple.”

“Later, imitating Jianzhen’s voyage to Japan, he drifted there, using the people’s blood and sweat from the treasury to live in luxury for half his life, finally passing away along the northern coast of Japan!”

“Because he withdrew from the world and became a monk, the Jianwen Emperor left no descendants; at the very end, he built a tomb and buried all his treasures with himself.”

“According to what I learned from Chen Yinzhao, the heir of the Marquis of Pingjiang, who sailed with us, the Zuo Dou Island area likely hides the Jianwen Treasure.”

“The wealth amounts to tens of millions of taels! Comparable to a mountain of silver!”

After speaking, Li Wen involuntarily sniffed the air, his hands hovering in midair as he earnestly mimed the size.

“Pfft…”

What followed was his uncle’s merciless mockery.

“Hahaha, the Jianwen Treasure!”

“What a splendid Jianwen Treasure!”

Li Zaiting clutched his stomach, swaying as if he could not stand, gripping his nephew’s shoulder as he burst into laughter.

Li Wen, utterly embarrassed and uncertain, asked hesitantly: “Uncle, is your reaction because Chen Yinzhao lied to me?”

This was hard-won secret information—extracted after days of leveraging maritime prohibition documents and nights of drinking—yet now mocked like this!

It was sheer humiliation!

Li Zaiting wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes, his body trembling: “Court secrets are never false—but the name itself is too childish; I couldn’t help laughing.”

Any official with half a brain wouldn’t take it seriously.

Yet the Grand Princess, the Marquis of Wuqing, the Marquis of Pingjiang—they actually assembled dozens of ships, genuinely seeking this so-called “Jianwen Treasure.”

Utterly foolish.

Oh right—his nephew was among them.

Why does every dynasty decline?

Because more and more fools like this breed within noble families, hoarding wealth and seizing power.

Jianwen Treasure.

It’s only thanks to the Emperor’s clever strategy that he came up with this nonsense to steer maritime trade.

Li Zaiting exerted great effort to finally stop laughing.

Facing his embarrassed nephew, he broke his usual demeanor and waved his hand: “Let them go to sea.”

Li Wen was puzzled—why had his uncle’s attitude changed so abruptly upon hearing of the treasure?

Could he, too, be hoping to get a share?

He was about to ask.

But Li Zaiting impatiently shooed him away: “While you’re still Deputy Director of the Maritime Trade Office, why aren’t you off doing your job?”

“Before long, I’ll send a letter to the Surveillance Commission accusing you of embezzlement and bribery—then you’ll lose both your office and your wealth, be sent back to Beijing, and at least retain the favor of your noble relatives.”

This wasn’t just anger talking.

This nephew of his was this stupid—if I leave Fujian, he’ll be devoured whole.

Li Wen froze, then turned pale.

Before he could react, he felt a powerful boot slam into his buttocks!

Instantly, the world spun—he was like a dog being torn apart.

Rubbing his rear, Li Wen came to his senses and realized he was sprawled outside the room—he’d been kicked out by his uncle!

“Huh? Director Li, you came to see the Department Head too? Why are you sitting on the ground?”

Li Wen’s rubbing hand froze.

His right hand silently moved upward from his buttocks, absentmindedly rubbing his lower back, then, under the guise of a yawn, stretched into a full-body stretch as he stood up.

“Nothing. I just received guidance from the Department Head, reflected on it, and was organizing my thoughts. Inspector Zhang, please go ahead.”

Saying this, he calmly turned and walked past the man, descending the stairs before muttering prayers that his uncle’s words were just anger.

Inspector Zhang Wei glanced at the eunuch’s back, utterly baffled.

He shook his head and knocked on the door, which hadn’t been closed.

Tap.

Tap-tap.

Li Zaiting looked up, saw it was the Inspector, and hurried forward with a smile: “Brother Zhang, you’ve come to witness the Wanli Treasure Ship set sail?”

He asked this, yet secretly wondered.

The Provincial Governor’s office was in Fuzhou, far from Jinjiang County in Quanzhou—he should have planned ahead and traveled with me; why show up now, so eagerly?

Zhang Wei shook his head, getting straight to the point: “In nineteen days, it’s His Majesty’s birthday. The Franks, the Castilians, and the Luzonese have come to pay tribute. The Provincial Governor’s office issued an official order permitting them to travel overland via the Grand Canal to Beijing.”

“Now we need the Department Head’s seal to recall that order.”

The Emperor’s birthday was the seventeenth of the eighth month—this was the last chance for tribute envoys to arrive.

The Franks, Castilians, and Luzonese were Portugal, Spain, and the Philippines—but Zhang Wei still wasn’t used to the new names from the Bureau of Barbarian Affairs.

Li Zaiting took the document Zhang Wei handed him, frowning: “Recall it? Why?”

The Provincial Governor’s order wasn’t under the Inspector’s jurisdiction—only the Provincial Governor himself could revoke it.

But why recall it at all?

Zhang Wei paused, then realized: “Director, stationed at Anping Harbor, you haven’t seen the Ministry of Rites’ notice yet!”

Li Zaiting stared at him.

Zhang Wei cut to the chase: “The Ministry of Rites recently issued an order: His Majesty will tour the south; all tribute envoys are to bypass Beijing and proceed to Nanjing instead.”

Li Zaiting finally understood.

So the Emperor was touring the south—that’s why they needed to recall the order granting envoys access to Beijing.

Since they’re traveling overland, changing the route now should still be possible.

Li Zaiting pulled the Provincial Governor’s seal from his robe—following the precedent of former Huguang Provincial Governor Zhao Xian, current governors feared their seals being stolen and always carried them on their person.

He spread the document on the table, raised the seal, and prepared to stamp it.

Then the seal halted midair.

Li Zaiting looked up, belatedly at Zhang Wei, stunned: “Wait—His Majesty is touring the south?!”

…

“What did you say? His Majesty is touring the south?!”

Deng Yizan, dazed, could barely speak clearly.

Wei Zhongde cleared his throat: “Lord Deng, it hasn’t happened yet—the Emperor’s southern tour won’t begin until next month.”

Before Deng Yizan received this imperial decree, he was still a commoner without office—hence the honorific “Lord.”

Wei Zhongde emphasized the title to remind Deng Yizan: first, accept the decree.

But Deng Yizan remained stunned.

Why suddenly a southern tour?!

How did the court deliberation end? What were the Grand Secretaries thinking? What were the censors doing?

Didn’t anyone try to dissuade the Emperor?!

Is a southern tour even a good thing? Do they really think it’s as easy as Emperor Wuzong’s awkward poems: “Zhengde’s glory spreads far and wide, bold in north and south campaigns. His might secures the realm, forever ruling ten thousand years”?

What ended up happening? He fell ill from a capsized boat and died in the Leopard Pavilion.

Not to blame anyone—but how dangerous to leave the Forbidden City! Emperor Shizong’s southern tour burned his palace; Emperor Yingzong’s northern tour led to his capture by the Oirats—none ended well!

“Cough, cough, Lord Deng, you must receive the decree.” Wei Zhongde coughed again.

Deng Yizan finally snapped back.

He sighed silently—whether the Emperor toured south or north, he still had to accept the decree restoring him to office.

Because of the land survey, he’d been betrayed by the gentry of Henan.

Not only had the survey slowed, but his son had broken his leg.

If he didn’t avenge this, he wasn’t a true gentleman!

He quickly gathered his composure, bowed deeply, and received the decree with both hands: “Your servant accepts the decree and thanks His Majesty.”

The Emperor had restored him precisely so he could clean up his own mess.

This time, he must not fail again!

Wei Zhongde did not rush to help Deng Yizan rise—he bowed toward Beijing: “His Majesty’s verbal instruction.”

“Lord Deng has ability, but his private interests remain unremoved; he governs his household poorly. Now that he rises again, may he take this as a warning.”

These words nearly made Deng Yizan cover his face and weep.

He bowed far toward the north: “Your servant remembers.”

How can one advance without admitting failure?

Wei Zhongde then smiled warmly and helped Deng Yizan up: “Lord Deng, don’t blame yourself too harshly. The Emperor privately said: petty schemers mean nothing. As long as you serve the state, even if you fall three times and rise three times, he will protect you.”

Hearing this, Deng Yizan was speechless.

With such a sovereign, he could serve another twenty years!

But personal honor was minor—he slowly rose and returned to his earlier point: “His Majesty treats me as flesh and blood; I treat His Majesty as my heart and soul!”

“Eunuch Wei, wait—I will draft a memorial to dissuade His Majesty from the southern tour!”

Saying this, he turned and hurried inside to write.

Wei Zhongde quickly grabbed Deng Yizan’s hand.

Before the latter could pull away, he sighed bitterly: “Minister Deng, the matter is settled—now even in the Wenhua Hall, they’re debating who shall act as regent.”

Deng Yizan frowned in displeasure and retorted: “Debating? Isn’t His Majesty merely being stubborn and arbitrary?”

Stubborn and arbitrary—that is, willful and obstinate.

With Emperor Wuzong’s precedent before them, which minister would ever agree to such a thing?

How many court officials did Emperor Wuzong demote during his southern tour?

How many censors did Emperor Shizong flog to death during his southern tour?

Given the current calm, Deng Yizan could think of no other possibility except the Emperor’s obstinate determination.

Wei Zhongde firmly corrected Deng Yizan’s rigid impression.

The former shook his head seriously: “Not at all.”

“This idea was first proposed by Fan Yingqi, Right Vice Minister of Revenue and Director of the Granary System.”

Fan Yingqi?

Deng Yizan drew a deep breath—there were traitors in the court!

“Yet…” Wei Zhongde shifted tone: “Though His Majesty reluctantly agreed, he could not withstand the flood of memorials from the outer court officials, all urging him to rescind his order and punish Vice Minister Fan.”

Deng Yizan nodded vigorously.

Punish? He ought to be dismissed outright!

At this, Wei Zhongde’s expression turned reflective: “Then the court descended into endless bickering.”

“Memorials from the Censorate and the Six Boards rained down upon the Western Garden.”

“Officials from various departments staged hunger strikes outside the Wumen Gate.”

“Even within the Wenhua Hall, opinions remained deadlocked—Vice Minister Wan instructed his grandson Wan Jing to break into Fan’s residence and beat him so badly he could not attend morning court for days.”

Wan Gong was a repeat offender.

When rumors once spread through Beijing that the Emperor was powerless and childless, Wan Gong blamed Prince Zhu Zaiyu for secretly stirring them up and ordered his grandson Wan Jing to scale the wall and assault the Prince.

Only now did Deng Yizan realize the Emperor’s southern tour was far from the calm surface it appeared.

Yet it seemed, in the end, the Emperor had still gotten his way.

Wei Zhongde met Deng Yizan’s gaze and continued calmly: “Seeing the chaos, His Majesty realized he could delay no longer—and thus made a decisive, resolute ruling.”

“At last month’s morning court, he ordered the ministers of the Wenhua Hall to state their pros and cons, closed the doors, and held a secret vote on whether to proceed!”

Deng Yizan stared in shock.

He understood each word individually, yet each sounded bizarrely alien.

What did “state their pros and cons” mean?

What did “close the doors” mean?

What did “secret vote on whether to proceed” mean?

Was this an evolution of court nomination—or a mutation of the southern countryside factional alignment?

After a long silence, he ventured, as if guessing yet also certain: “After closing the doors, did His Majesty present his own arguments and then make the final decision?”

Wei Zhongde nodded eagerly: “His Majesty delivered a long speech—I, unworthy, have forgotten most of it.”

“I only remember the final line.”

His expression was one of awe, as if gazing upon mountains and seas; his lips trembled: “His Majesty said, he would never allow the state to be torn apart!”

…

“What does ‘not allow the state to be torn apart’ mean? Does the Emperor mean we are tearing the state apart?”

Zhao Nanxing snorted in disdain, his face brimming with defiance.

This was the Tongzheng Office of Nanzhili, also the joint editorial office of the Guozijian and the Donglin Gazette.

As a public institution, it was enough that no one died here.

Yet since parting ways with Gu Assistant County Magistrate, Li Sancai, and others, Zhao Nanxing had become strangely arrogant and volatile, his competitive drive everywhere.

He not only funded renovations to turn this humble office into something grand, but even hired several literati to compose poems and paint scrolls.

Thus, an unremarkable duty room now exuded quiet elegance and an overwhelming scholarly aura.

Coupled with the Three Virtuous Men of Donglin controlling two major newspapers and producing frequent, high-minded articles, it had nearly become the sacred ground of Jiangnan’s scholarly circles.

At this moment, only three editors remained in the room.

Zhao Nanxing pointed at the official documents sent from Beijing, sneering incessantly.

Zou Yuanbiao, also exiled from the southern countryside, shared the same resentment.

Yet now he sat on pins and needles, his face pale with alarm: “The Emperor is coming! What shall we do?”

Only Luo Yuren remained unmoved, still writing furiously.

A closer look revealed the utterly defiant words: “If His Majesty is truly greedy for wealth, how can he punish his ministers’ gluttony? If His Majesty is truly proud and haughty, how can he encourage his ministers’ harmony?”

“What greater division of the realm than the ruler himself?”