Chapter 370

Beijing, winter month Yiyou.

Today is the Empress Dowager Ci Sheng’s birthday, and most court officials had long gathered at Longzong Gate, enduring hunger and cold, waiting to pay their kowtow salutations to Lady Li.

“Most,” because those departmental ministers burdened with official duties could not spare time; they delivered their congratulatory memorials personally, then turned toward Wenhua Hall to resume the morning court session.

“Excavate the Jia River?”

Li Youzi, Vice Minister of Revenue, frequently moved between court and the latrine due to his urinary ailment; upon returning to the hall, he just caught the mention of the Jia River.

Zhang Juzheng did not delay. Standing at the head of the left column, he faced his colleagues directly: “The Jia River proposal has been fraught with twists; now, after His Majesty’s own inspection, a final decision has been reached.”

The Jia River proposal, first raised in Longqing’s fourth year, has now spanned over a decade—“fraught with twists” is indeed apt.

But Chief Censor Hai Rui had spent most of his life in the provinces and was unfamiliar with the origins of these central debates.

He asked cautiously: “Grand Secretary speaks of a final decision. Is such a state matter not to be debated in court?”

The Emperor’s southern tour certainly brought a full entourage: the traveling cabinet drafted proposals, the traveling Directorate of Ceremonial approved them—procedurally, there was no flaw.

But the problem is:

Excavating a new river requires expenditures of millions of taels, conscripts numbering in the hundreds of thousands, affecting countless civilians and multiple government bureaus. Is the scope of the argument not supposed to be broader?

To merely send back a “final decision” to Beijing—what kind of governance is this?

Though Zhang Juzheng harbored reservations about the Emperor elevating Hai Rui to Chief Censor, his expression still showed full respect and courtesy: “Your Excellency is unaware.”

“The Jia River proposal, since its inception in Longqing, has never ceased.”

“Yet most of it remained theoretical, mere castles in the air, causing endless quarrels among court officials and no resolution.”

“His Majesty long ago declared: without investigation, one has no right to speak.”

“On this southern tour, His Majesty personally traversed both banks of Xuzhou and the Jia River, accompanied by Vice Minister of Works Wan Gong, Director-General of River Management Pan Jixun, former Director-General Fu Xizhi (recorded as Nie, but if inconvenient, pronounce as Che), and Director of the Water Department Liu Dongxing—only then did he revive this old matter.”

Hai Rui finally relaxed and silently returned to his place.

Many officials, like Hai Rui, were ignorant of river conditions; now they turned to Zhu Heng, seeking clarification.

Zhu Heng, as Minister of Works, naturally stepped forward: “According to His Majesty’s estimate, the Jia River project spans 260 li; once fully connected and navigable, including stone sluices, post stations, and relocation of offices, total cost is 800,000 taels—”

Before he finished, murmurs erupted throughout Wenhua Hall.

Li Youzi, Vice Minister of Revenue, frowned deeply and could not help asking: “Minister of Works, are you certain? Eight hundred thousand taels?”

“I still recall that in Longqing’s fifth year, you and Vice Minister Wan personally surveyed the Jia River and said merely excavating the massive boulders beneath the riverbed would cost over five million taels.”

“Full navigation would cost more than ten million taels!”

The Ministry of Revenue was highly sensitive to project costs.

For state projects, the Ministry of Works’ Jieshen Treasury was always insufficient; previously, dredging the sea route and building ports had already drained tens of thousands of taels from the imperial treasury.

If Zhu Heng had misread a digit, the treasury would be emptied by this man.

At this moment, Zhang Juzheng, at the head of the column, interjected: “We remain indoors; Minister of Works, please bear with us—begin again from the start.”

Just as “no investigation, no right to speak” was cited, “remaining indoors” carries nearly the same meaning here.

Zhang Juzheng had now said this twice; it was hardly without resentment.

For over a decade, the court had debated the Jia River proposal, each convinced of their own certainty.

Now, with the Emperor’s survey report, they realized how absurd these men’s notions of governance truly were.

How, then, can those in high office avoid being deceived by baseless talk from below?

In this light, even the previously dismissed southern tour now seemed somewhat justified.

Zhu Heng nodded, summoned a scribe, and had the Ministry of Works’ documents circulated among colleagues.

He then continued: “In September of Longqing’s fourth year, the Yellow River breached at Pizhou; the Huai River between Qili Gou and the river mouth became silted for over ten li, and the ancestral tombs of Sizhou faced silting.”

“The root cause was silt accumulation at the Three Rapids of Xuzhou; the Yellow River could not pass, water piled up, and overflowed.”

“At the time, I proposed diverting the Yellow River, channeling floodwaters from Suizhou to Xiao Fugiao in Xuzhou to reduce silt blockage.”

“Immediately, the River Administration’s Weng Dali proposed, since we must divert floodwaters, we might as well go further: excavate the old Yellow River channel at Yugu Town (modern Huaiyin, Jiangsu) to further divert the river.”

No one interrupted; all listened as Zhu Heng spoke.

These broad, non-technical discussions were well known to court officials.

Though Weng Dali had been punished by the Emperor, his status as the original proposer of the new river was not to be avoided.

Yet from September onward until the following April, Weng Dali only debated, never acted; he proposed grand schemes but took no steps to divert floodwaters, causing widespread public resentment, and was impeached by Song Liangzuo, then Chief Censor of the Ministry of Revenue, and transferred to the Ministry of Justice.

Sensing his colleagues’ glances,

Song Liangzuo, now promoted to Director of the Honglu Temple, cleared his throat and did not hesitate to deliver the final blow: “Weng Dali spoke vaguely, with empty ideas—no calculations for funds, routes, or laborers. How could the court debate anything? How could this qualify as a true proposal?”

It was necessary to flog the corpse.

Otherwise, if Weng Dali had truly been visionary, what would his impeaching censor have become?

Zhu Heng intended to encourage his colleagues to view the Ministry of Works’ veteran with balanced judgment, but Song Liangzuo had lightly but firmly shut him down—he immediately realized his words were ill-timed.

He sighed silently and followed Song Liangzuo’s lead: “Even so, the new river proposal did not cease.”

“In Longqing’s fifth year, the Yellow River breached again; the River Administration reconsidered: since Xuzhou was silted, why not excavate the Jia River to separate the Yellow River from the Grand Canal—thus easing Yellow River pressure and securing grain transport?”

“The route begins at Majia Bridge (modern Weishan, Shandong), passes through Weishan Lake, Chishan Lake, Lümen Lake, Guxu Ridge (modern Weishan, Shandong),

Liangcheng (modern Pizhou, Jiangsu), and reaches Jia Kou Bay, then proceeds through Hamo Lake (modern Zaozhuang, Shandong) to Pizhou’s Zhihe Port.”

“This bypasses the Three Rapids of Xuzhou—the most silted stretch of the Yellow River—and allows the canal to run directly from Shandong through Jia Kou into Pizhou.”

Upon hearing this, Minister of Rites Wang Zongyi seemed to recall something and exclaimed: “This is recorded in our Ministry.”

“At the time, Left Censor Luo Zun requested leave and traveled alone to Xuzhou and the Jia River region to survey the land and consult the people.”

“Upon returning to Beijing, he submitted three memorials to the late Emperor Mu.”

“First: massive boulders lay submerged beneath Liangcheng Bay, impossible to excavate; second: constructing dikes in Hamo Lake and Zhouliu Lake would entail enormous cost and difficulty;”

“Third: the River Administration was negligent; even if dikes were built along Weishan and Lümen lakes, they must simultaneously excavate Guxu Ridge and Dibang Gully for drainage—but their plan listed these steps sequentially, revealing grossly inadequate planning.”

Third, the River Authority was negligent: even if they built dikes along the shores of Weishan and Lümon lakes, they must simultaneously drain through Gexu Ridge and Dibang Ditch, yet the plan listed them in sequence, revealing its perfunctory planning.

Without such practical insight, how could he have survived after impeaching Gao Gong for ten crimes and still been spared by Emperor Mu?

Zhu Heng nodded slightly: “Upon hearing this, the late Emperor immediately ordered the Ministry of Works to re-survey; I went personally with Vice Minister Wan.”

He looked at Li Youzi, clarifying the source of the figure the latter had cited: “It was during this survey that Vice Minister Wan reported to Emperor Mu: at Liangcheng’s Houjiawan, a colossal boulder stretched for dozens of li; to excavate it would require at least five million taels.”

It was not that the engineering was difficult—mainly, there was no money.

Just Houjiawan alone demanded five million taels; the entire river was unthinkable.

At the time, the empty treasury could barely afford salaries; faced with such astronomical figures, the Ministry of Works had no choice but to shift from advocacy to opposition.

Hearing this, court officials grew even more puzzled.

Even Hai Rui’s stoic face betrayed confusion: “If both the Censorate and the Ministry of Works previously surveyed and estimated costs exceeding ten million taels—”

“How, then, did His Majesty suddenly reduce it to eight hundred thousand?”

Only because the current Emperor had always acted with prudence could Hai Rui ask seriously.

Had Wan Shou Emperor been present, they would already be wondering if he, like Emperor Qinzong, had fallen for some Guo Jing and planned to excavate the river with Six Ding and Six Jia spirits.

Zhu Heng was about to speak when Zhang Juzheng turned to look at him; he silently yielded the floor.

Zhang Juzheng took over, speaking calmly: “Around the first year of Wanli, I heard the levees along Huai and Si rivers were failing disastrously, leaving officials helpless; I wrote to Director-General Fu Xizhi for discussion.”

“In his reply, he said silt carried by the Yellow River was the primary cause of Grand Canal silting, especially at Xuzhou—where the riverbed had risen three chi since he succeeded Weng Dali in Longqing’s fifth year, far outpacing the speed of canal deepening.”

“Coupled with the exhaustion of labor and resources on both banks from years of damming and embankment repairs, if this continued, not only grain transport and Sizhou’s ancestral tombs, but even the fertile lands of Suzhou and Yangzhou would be endangered.”

“He urgently petitioned the Grand Secretariat: could the Jia River be excavated?”

“I then personally reported this to His Majesty.”

“But given the precedent of the Longqing fifth year Jia River proposal and the Emperor’s lack of personal rule, I issued an edict ordering Fu Xizhi to conduct further surveys before submitting another report.”

In truth, engineering debates always took long periods, repeated discussions, overt or covert.

Do not imagine our Wanli Emperor as bizarre.

Zhu Heng continued: “Thereafter, Fu Xizhi refined the Ministry of Works’ original plan, adapting it to local conditions.”

“He abandoned the original plan to cross Lümen and Weishan lakes, instead starting excavation at Quanhe Port, digging southeast along the original route to avoid lake construction.”

“For the hard rock at Guxu Ridge, Houjiawan, and Liangcheng, he dug wells to lower water levels, exposing the boulders for excavation, while avoiding major rock zones and focusing only on the critical eighty-zhang section.”

“Estimated cost: about 400 taels, forty stone masons—”

As he spoke, the ministers in Wenhua Hall stared in stunned silence.

From five million taels down to four hundred?

How much had been saved? An entire treasury’s silver!

So it was not the Emperor’s divine skill—it was Fu Xizhi’s ingenious craftsmanship!

“—Moreover, from Pizhou to Qinghe, the old route may still be used; though Zhaoxian Village to Malingshan has gravel, excavation difficulty is low; from Chenji Zhuang to Dahu Kou, the old riverbed can be dredged, facilitating lake drainage into the Huai.”

“In sum, the new route from Quanhe Port to Dahu Kou spans over 530 li, bypassing key bottlenecks and shortening the original canal route by over eighty li.”

“Cost has dropped from ten million taels to just over one million.”

Exclamations rose in waves through the hall.

Left Vice Minister of Personnel Yao Hongmo recovered first and immediately asked: “If so, why was this never debated in court, and why was Fu Xizhi dismissed?”

The Ministry of Personnel knew little about engineering but remembered personnel appointments with perfect clarity.

At this, all departmental ministers realized the truth.

Fu Xizhi had not been retired due to illness—he had been summarily dismissed without mercy.

Such punishment clearly was not the treatment of a capable minister—Fu Xizhi’s proposal must have had serious flaws!

Before Zhu Heng could speak, Director of the Imperial Academy Hou Yuzhao suddenly interjected: “Because His Majesty later ordered the Ministry of Works to re-examine.”

Before Zhu Heng could speak, the Director of the National Academy, Hou Yuzhao, suddenly interjected: “It is because His Majesty subsequently ordered the Ministry of Works to review it.”

Everyone turned to look toward Hou Yu Zhao.

He immediately recalled that around the first year of Wanli, Hou Yuzhao had been a Censor of the Ministry of Works.

Since the time had come to decrypt the secret edict, Hou Yuzhao no longer needed to wait for Zhu Heng to distribute the Ministry of Works’ archives.

He instantly remembered the report he had written himself: “In the sixth month of the first year, the Censorate of the Ministry of Works, together with Ministry of Works Physician Zhang Chun and Provincial Administrator Feng Minggong of Shandong,

along with Deputy Prefect Fan Kezhai of Yanzhou Prefecture, re-inspected the stretch from Quanhekou to Dahhekou, totaling over 530 li.”

“The first section, from the water surface of Quanhekou to the summit of Xingyi Ridge, has an elevation of two zhang, four chi, and five cun; the river must be deepened by one zhang, and at Xingyi Ridge, excavated to a depth of three zhang and five chi.”

“Cost: 382,039 liang and four qian, thirteen ten thousand liang more than Fu Xizhi’s estimate.”

“The second section, from Xingyi River to Chahhekou, excavated to a depth of four zhang and four chi; the dredging and embankment project from Quanhekou spans ten li; the dredging and excavation project below Qinch Gou extends twenty-three li and seventy zhang — avoiding the area below Taierzhuang, the excavation from there to Chahhekou spans thirteen li.”

“Cost: 1,345,182 liang and one qian, over sixty-one ten thousand liang more than Fu Xizhi’s estimate.”

“————”

“Moreover, between Liangcheng and Matiwan, the riverbed is filled with submerged rocks; after draining the river, stone slabs emerged, stretching five hundred and fifty zhang.”

“Not the eighty zhang Fu Xizhi claimed.”

“The total cost for these dredging, embankment, and sluice construction projects amounts to 3,976,708 liang.”

Hou Yuzhao paused, then shrugged at his colleagues: “This doesn’t even include the costs for widening the channel, thickening the riverbed, and relocating infrastructure after completion.”

“Though far less than the one million liang proposed in the fifth year of Longqing, it’s certainly not the mere one million liang Fu Xizhi falsely claimed could suffice.”

“The discrepancy is so vast that it cannot be presented to the court.”

The court ministers, hearing Hou Yuzhao’s detailed figures and cross-referencing the Ministry of Works’ archived records, had no grounds for doubt.

That’s not surprising. That’s not surprising.

How impoverished was the first year of Wanli? At the time, they were building ships and opening the seas; ports in Tianjin, Huai’an, and elsewhere were all constructed in phases.

If we had blindly followed Fu Xizhi’s advice, we’d have created a deficit of several hundred thousand liang — it would have been disastrous.

I wonder how terrified the Grand Secretariat was afterward; after the re-inspection was completed in July of the first year, Lu Diaoyang dismissed Fu Xizhi by month’s end, and in August, Gao Yi directly recommended Pan Jixun to the Emperor, giving Fu Xizhi not a single chance to defend himself. (Chapter 128)

Hai Rui listened and sighed: “No wonder the Chief Secretary earlier said it was a bumpy road.”

During Longqing, there was an inspection; in early Wanli, a covert investigation; now, with the Emperor himself conducting an inspection, this is the third time we’ve debated river management.

If the Jiajing Emperor had devoted his mind to state affairs as he did to Daoist practices, it might have been no different.

Li Youzi didn’t care about the twists and turns — he only wanted to confirm the exact cost: “Since the previous Censorate report clearly itemized expenditures nearing four million liang,

how has His Majesty reduced it to eighty thousand liang? Has he again been deceived by Fu Xizhi?”

Li Youzi, nicknamed “Three Flasks,” may have suffered from frequent urination, which left his thinking sluggish.

Song Liangzuo, Minister of the Court of Imperial Entertainments, reminded him: “Just now, the Chief Secretary relayed His Majesty’s decree: the entire river project spans 260 li — half of Fu Xizhi’s 530 li — clearly, further avoidance has been implemented.”

No wonder — he was one of the ministers who originally participated in the river debate; his insight remains sharp.

Project costs aren’t proportional; cutting over two hundred li of work means relying more on existing channels and avoiding more engineering difficulties.

Zhang Juzheng cast an approving glance at Song Liangzuo and nodded: “Exactly so.”

“The route has indeed been altered; the starting point has been pushed further south from Quanhekou, beginning directly at Xiaozhen, the border between Jining and Peixian.”

“It proceeds southeast through Han Zhuang, Taierzhuang, and Jia Kou, merging prematurely into the Yellow and Huai Rivers at Pizhou’s Zhíhekou.”

“The project is divided into three sections. First: excavate a channel from the Peng River tributary, diverting water to Xiaozhen, then connecting to Han Zhuang, linking the waterways of Weishan Lake, Chishan Lake, Zhaoyang Lake, Peng River, and Shu River.”

“Total length: forty li. Estimated cost: fifty thousand liang. Mobilize ten thousand laborers. Duration: five months.”

“Second: from Xiliuzhuang (modern Tengzhou, Shandong) to Han Zhuang; after merging with the first section, excavate the Houjiawan and Liangcheng to Kouhe sections.”

“Total length: forty-five li. Estimated cost: one hundred thousand liang. Mobilize fifty thousand laborers. Duration: two months.”

“Third: from Jia Kou to Pizhou’s Zhíhekou — this section will flow naturally.”

“Including full-line dredging, embankment, and sluice construction: cost fifty thousand liang, fifty thousand laborers, duration one year.”

“By the time the canal is fully connected after seventeen months, spanning 260 li, total cost is sixty-five thousand liang. Including subsequent deepening of the riverbed and relocation of government offices, total expenditure is eighty thousand liang, completed in two years.”

Though old, the prodigy was still a prodigy — he recited the route and accounts as if they were memorized backward.

At this point, the ministers finally grasped the scale of the Jia River project.

Some immediately believed, clapping in astonishment.

Others remained puzzled, frowning in thought.

Pan Cheng, Minister of Justice, rarely joined such discussions, but now he felt a bone stuck in his throat.

He gently reminded: “Chief Secretary, adapting to local conditions and rebuilding the canal naturally conforms to the Dao.”

“But the cost — is it not overly optimistic?”

“Forty li for fifty thousand liang? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

No one doubts we can save money dredging two hundred sixty li — but is it really credible that the entire project costs only eighty thousand liang? Are we placing too much faith in the integrity of our Ming officials?

Back in the forty-fifth year of Jiajing, when Xiaozhen’s new canal was opened — from Nanyang southward, east to Xiacun, then further east to Liucheng — a total of 141 li — how much did it cost?

Two million three hundred seventy thousand liang!

Especially this first section: forty li for fifty thousand liang? That’s absurd — fifty thousand liang isn’t even enough for one assistant official to embezzle!

Most ministers had no sense of such project costs, but they had absolute faith in their colleagues’ corruption — all eyes turned to Zhu Heng.

Zhu Heng said nothing, merely spread his hands and looked at Zhang Juzheng.

Zhang Juzheng hesitated, then rubbed his chin: “His Majesty has entrusted this section to Shu Yinglong. Shu Gong’s integrity is rare in the world — he will not disappoint us.”

Old Zhang’s expression seemed uncertain.

Not because he doubted Shu Yinglong — but because the Emperor’s letter used extravagant language.

He claimed: “For the forty-li Han Zhuang branch canal, Shu Yinglong spent only thirty-eight thousand liang, completed in under five months; five thousand liang is more than sufficient.”

It sounded as if he could foresee the future — too embarrassing. Even quoting the Emperor’s exact words, Zhang Juzheng couldn’t bring himself to say them.

Realizing the Emperor’s certainty was unreliable, Zhang Juzheng took the initiative to reassure his colleagues: “Don’t worry excessively about the funding.”

“Chen Wude, while punishing corruption in Xuzhou, had already seized ninety thousand liang in cash before the trial even concluded.”

“Take from the people, use for the people — these confiscated funds can directly fund the river project, without drawing from the national treasury.”

Hearing no treasury funds were needed, Li Youzi exhaled deeply.

Confiscated fines? Then it’s fine.

He immediately perked up and declared: “River and canal corruption might require two million liang to complete — but now, with the purge of corruption, eighty thousand liang is more than sufficient!”

Several Censors from the Ministry of Revenue followed suit, applauding enthusiastically.

Whether it’s enough or not — as long as we don’t ask the Ministry of Revenue for money.

Thus, with the Emperor’s personal inspection, the river ministers’ agreement, the Grand Secretariat’s tacit approval, and the Ministry of Revenue’s praise, the matter was settled.

Zhang Juzheng, seeing this, nodded in satisfaction: “Then after this meeting, each ministry and bureau should coordinate on this plan.”

Zhu Heng needed no instruction — the Ministry of Works was already holding its internal deliberations and would finalize the Emperor’s plan before year’s end.

Zhang Juzheng turned to Li Bu’s Left Vice Minister, Yao Hongmo, and directly assigned personnel: “Reinstate former Director of River Affairs Fu Xizhi as Vice Censor-in-Chief, fully in charge of the Jia River project.”

“Liu Dongxing, Director of the Waterworks Bureau, shall be reassigned as Director of the Zhong River Waterworks Bureau, preparing for the second section of the Jia River.”

“Promote Li Hualong, County Magistrate of Leshan, to Censor-in-Chief of the Southern Directly Governed Region, to assist in river management.”

“Transfer Xiao Liangyou from Secretary of the Imperial Secretariat to Chief Official of Xiaozhen on the Zhong River — immediately recruit laborers —”

A string of personnel appointments poured from Zhang Juzheng’s mouth.

Since returning to court, Yao Hongmo, as Li Bu’s Vice Minister, had once again been forced to follow Zhang Juzheng’s lead — merely filling gaps in the orders: “Chief Secretary, rather than appointing Fu Xizhi separately as Director of the Jia River, why not assign it to Director Pan?”

After all, the actual work is being done by Shu Yinglong, Liu Dongxing, and others — there’s no need for another Director.

Isn’t this streamlining?

Zhang Juzheng shook his head: “The Yellow River and the Canal must be separated — water flow will inevitably diminish.”

The Chief Secretary spoke with cautious wisdom, leaving his meaning unspoken.

Yao Hongmo stared blankly for a moment, then suddenly understood.

Pan Jixun’s strategy of confining water to scour silt would not welcome a river project that weakened water flow by separating the Yellow River and the Canal!

Strictly speaking, this was a dispute over river management philosophy.

No wonder the Emperor bypassed Pan Jixun and went through such lengths to revive Fu Xizhi!

Everyone glanced at Zhu Heng — Pan Jixun and Fu Xizhi each had merits, their rivalry inconclusive; if the Emperor wished to use both, he needed this old Minister to mediate.

When, finally, would Zhu Heng, the Minister of Works, step aside?

Those seeking advancement had many thoughts — but so did the upright.

Hai Rui, seizing only the core point from the Chief Secretary’s words, spoke with concern for the people: “Chief Secretary, if the Yellow River and Canal are separated, what becomes of the people along both banks?”

This was subtle — it touched on ancestral precedent.

Previously, river management followed the guiding principle of Emperor Xiaozong: “Ancients managed rivers to remove harm; today, we manage rivers lest we disrupt the canal.”

Now that the Canal has been rerouted to the Jia River, according to Xiaozong’s logic, the Yellow River need not be managed at all — since it no longer threatens the Canal’s profits.

But officials must have conscience.

Zhang Juzheng gestured gently, signaling Hai Rui to calm down: “After concluding the Xuzhou meeting, His Majesty has already proceeded to Haizhou in Huai’an to inspect Yunti Pass.”

“The management of the Yellow River will remain entrusted to Pan Jixun — he must devote his full effort.”

The Emperor himself had exhausted himself traveling from Xuzhou to Huai’an to inspect the estuary — how could he possibly abandon the Yellow River?

Moreover, after the Xuzhou meeting, the political landscape for river management had largely taken shape: Fu Xizhi managing the Canal, leaving Pan Jixun freer to manage the Yellow River.

Hearing the Emperor’s firm stance, Hai Rui bowed respectfully: “His Majesty’s benevolence,” and had no further questions.

Yet this exchange, mentioning the people, had opened the door.

Zhang Heming, a Censor from Sichuan and native of Xuzhou, could not help remark: “These are the livelihoods of a million canal workers — altering them lightly will inevitably cause hardship.”

When someone mentioned the people, it meant they truly cared.

But Zhang Heming clearly did not belong to that group.

He stood at the end of the line; though low in rank and insignificant, his voice was loud: “I heard former Ministry of Revenue Physician Wang Laixin say that the shift in transport routes has left merchants and commoners without livelihoods.”

“Throughout Xuzhou, the people are filled with grievance, openly blaming the court.”

“Even the kind-hearted former Physician Wang has complaints.”

“Grand Secretary, though His Majesty’s word is law, as the Censor has said, might we not consider broader consultation?”

His Zhang family had barely managed to lean on the canal transport system and built a few acres of ancestral land, only to find themselves betrayed without so much as a warning—now they were being pushed out to make way for others.

This is outright oppression!

If things go awry, I will surely record this incident in my writings, so future generations will know how Xuzhou was brought to ruin!

Upon hearing this, the court officials exchanged uneasy glances.

Hai Rui and Zhu Heng exchanged a glance, barely managing to suppress the urge to roll their eyes.

Fortunately, Zhang Juzheng had mastered self-control and remained unmoved; he frowned and said sternly: “Commissioner Zhang, have you been deceived by villains?”

“Xuzhou is a vital hub of the canal route; its ferry crossings, ports, and shops are the very means by which the people survive—how could His Majesty not know this?”

“After changing the transport route, to prevent the people from losing their livelihoods and being displaced, extensive trials and surveys by the Department of Waterworks were conducted, and His Majesty has already reached a decision with the ministries.”

“Build large-scale cement! Abandon the three-component soil, and construct a grand road running from north to south, wide enough for four carts, with cement as its foundation.”

“Its hub will be Xuzhou!”

“Once this plan was announced, not only did the people of Xuzhou rejoice, but even the elderly Physician Wang, moved by His Majesty’s example, willingly sacrificed his estate to alleviate the crisis, rallying the gentry to build a cement factory on the former site of the Department of Waterworks.”

“The gentry and local worthies all feared that Xuzhou would collapse and become a disgrace in history—they firmly resolved to contribute whatever little they could to revitalize Xuzhou.”

“Now, everyone in Xuzhou, from top to bottom, is feverishly preparing for the grand road—how could there be any resentment?”

Zhang Heming froze, seemingly not grasping the meaning behind Zhang Juzheng’s words.

After a long pause, he instinctively opened his mouth wide: “Ah?”