Chapter 187: Disaster Relief

……

The eighth year of Hongwu, the fifth day of the ninth month.

Zhu Biao, in Wenhua Hall, summoned Zhou Jinghe, Deputy Director of the Water Department of the Ministry of Works.

Zhou Jinghe indeed stuttered, and when nervous he stuttered even more, speaking haltingly for half a cup of tea's time.

Zhu Biao was not impatient and listened from start to finish.

After listening, he said a sentence.

"Zhou, Deputy Director, the palace commands you to oversee the construction of ocean‑going ships, the first batch of ten, with a half‑year deadline. If they are built well, the palace guarantees you three consecutive promotions."

"If they are built poorly, the palace will personally send you to Wenzhou to repair the dikes."

Zhou Jinghe's legs went weak, he knelt on the ground, his forehead pressed against a gold brick, and with a trembling voice said, "Servant, servant, servant…"

Zhu Biao cut off his stutter, "What servant, servant? Stand up and speak."

Zhou Jinghe rose, still shaking.

Zhu Biao looked at him and suddenly smiled.

"What are you afraid of? The palace does not eat people."

Zhou Jinghe was stunned for a moment, then looked up.

The Crown Prince's demeanor was gentle, his gaze calm, and even the corners of his mouth bore a faint smile.

At that moment, Zhou Jinghe suddenly recalled the saying that circulated among the people…

"The Crown Prince is the most benevolent."

But he did not know that the saying has a second half, which is never spread among the people.

It is… the Crown Prince kills, never soft‑handed.

……

The eighth year of Hongwu, the tenth day of the ninth month.

The first batch of disaster‑relief silver taels was dispatched from Yingtian Prefecture.

The escort officer was Wang Gui.

Wang Gui is now a Hundred Household Officer of the Longxiang Army, one of Zhu Yong's Royal Guard Captains.

Before departing, Zhu Yong took off his own sword and handed it to him.

"Wang Ge, take this sword with you."

Wang Gui took it, and in a deep voice said, "Lord Wang, rest assured, not a single tael will be missing."

Wang Gui did not say anything about the silver being present; such words would have sounded too despondent.

Zhu Yong nodded.

Wang Gui turned, mounted his horse, led the escort convoy, exited Chaoyang Gate, and followed the official road toward Juru.

Dust rose and gradually vanished into the dusk.

Zhu Yong stood on the city‑gate tower, watching the road.

Behind him, Guanyin Nu held Zhu Huanhuan and softly said, "Lord Wang, Brother Wang will return safely."

"Hmm, I know," Zhu Yong said.

After speaking, Zhu Yong turned, taking his daughter from his wife's arms.

Zhu Huanhuan clutched a piece of osmanthus cake in her hand, munching it all over her face, looking very cute.

"Dad, eat," she raised the piece high, about to shove it into Zhu Yong's mouth.

Zhu Yong opened his mouth and took a bite.

"Is it sweet!" Zhu Huanhuan asked with a laugh.

"Sweet."

The little girl became even happier.

On the city‑gate tower, the wind lifted Guanyin Nu's cloak.

In the autumn of the eighth year of Hongwu, the heavenly disaster was like a knife.

……

In Wenhua Hall, Zhu Biao was still reviewing memoranda.

The stack of memoranda on the desk had been replaced with a new pile that had just arrived today.

Zhejiang reports drought, Jiangxi reports drought, Huguang reports drought.

He examined each one and annotated each one.

The cabinet's draft notes were affixed behind each memorandum, the handwriting neat and the wording concise.

He read very quickly and marked even faster.

When he occasionally made a mistake, he crossed it out and rewrote it beside.

The on‑duty Hanlin official stood trembling beside him, ready to ask any question at any moment.

Zhu Biao asked nothing.

After finishing the last volume, he set down his brush and rubbed his brow.

"Who is on duty tonight?" he asked.

A young Hanlin official stepped forward, bowed, and said, "Returning, Your Highness, I am the servant."

Zhu Biao gave him a glance.

"What is your name?"

"Servant, Jie Jin."

Zhu Biao nodded and asked no further.

He stood up and walked to the window.

Outside the window, the night was deep.

In the courtyard of Wenhua Hall, the leaves of the old locust tree rustled in the wind.

"Jie Jin," Zhu Biao said suddenly.

"I am here."

"Tell me, when will this natural disaster have an end?"

Jie Jin was startled for a moment.

He thought for a moment and said softly, "Your Highness, natural disasters are unpredictable, human effort cannot control them; I dare not speak rashly."

Zhu Biao did not turn around.

"Then what do you think the court should do?"

Jie Jin was silent for a moment and said, "I think disaster relief is an immediate urgency, disaster prevention is a long‑term plan; repairing waterworks, storing grain in warehouses, stabilizing grain prices, reducing taxes… these are all duties of the court."

He paused, then said softly, "Also, governance of officials."

Zhu Biao turned his body and looked at him.

"Governance of officials?"

"Yes, natural disasters are unavoidable, human calamities must not exist; local officials conceal disaster reports, deceive superiors and oppress subordinates, which harms the people's hearts more than the disasters themselves," Jie Jin said.

Zhu Biao stared at him.

After a while, he smiled faintly.

"Jie Jin, are you from Jiangxi?"

"Yes."

"Jiangxi has also reported drought this year; how is the harvest in your hometown?"

Jie Jin was silent for a moment.

"I… I received a family letter last month; the rice fields at home have a 40% reduction in yield."

Zhu Biao nodded.

"Is your father still farming back home?"

"Yes, my father has passed down the tradition of farming and studying; although he is an imperial graduate, he has never entered official service."

Zhu Biao said nothing further.

He walked back to the desk, sat down, and picked up another Memorandum.

Jie Jin stood in place, not understanding what Crown Prince meant.

After a long while, Zhu Biao did not lift his head and said softly:

"Your father both farms and teaches; you should know the hardships of the fields. The disaster‑relief regulations you wrote are more practical than those drafted by the Ministry of Revenue."

Jie Jin was stunned.

"From now on, when the inner cabinet is on duty, stay a bit longer; if I have any questions, I will summon you at any time."

Jie Jin knelt down.

"I thank you, Your Highness."

Zhu Biao did not look up, only gave a soft "Hmm."

The wind outside the window blew out a candle on the desk.

Jie Jin rose, walked over, and relit it.

The moment the flame flared, it reflected the weary side profile of the Crown Prince.

He said nothing, only gently covered the lampshade.

Then he stepped aside and continued his watch.

……

The eighth year of Hongwu, the thirteenth day of the ninth month.

The first batch of disaster‑relief grain arrived at Juru.

Wang Gui stood on the cracked field ridge, watching the common folk queuing for grain in the distance.

The line was long, but very quiet.

No one cut the line, no one pushed, no one wailed.

They simply stood in silence, clutching disaster‑relief tickets issued by the Ministry of Revenue, waiting for their names to be called.

An elderly woman received a sack of rice, did not leave immediately, stood there, staring blankly at the sack.

Wang Gui walked over and asked, "Madam, what's wrong?"

The old woman lifted her head; her cloudy eyes were full of tears.

"Is this rice… from the court?"

"Yes, it is from the court," Wang Gui said.

The old woman said nothing further.

She clutched the sack of rice tightly to her chest and staggered away.

After walking a dozen steps, she suddenly turned back and knelt toward the direction of Capital City.

Wang Gui stood on the ridge, watching the hunched silhouette.

He said nothing.

He simply untied his Water Bag at his waist and handed it to the nearby yamen clerk.

"Give it to that madam; the drought has left her thirsty on the road."

"Yes, sir…" The clerk took the Water Bag and ran toward the old woman.