Chapter 189: Granary

Zhu Biao looked at Zhu Yong.

"Second brother, what do you want to say?"

Zhu Yong also stopped.

"Elder brother, I'm thinking of something," Zhu Yong said.

"Speak."

"I was at the seaside of Wenzhou and saw those disaster victims receiving porridge," Zhu Yong said.

"The porridge stalls were set up by the Wenzhou Prefecture; each day they open the stalls at Chen Hour, close them at noon, one bowl per person, the chopsticks are inserted, then tipped, and you can see the blue‑and‑white pattern at the bottom of the bowl."

He paused.

"I asked the clerk who served the porridge how much rice was in it, and he said, one pot of water, three handfuls of rice."

Zhu Biao was silent.

"I asked him why they didn't add more rice; he said, 'Prince, the court's allocated grain is only this much; there are over twenty thousand disaster victims, one bowl each, two pots of rice per day, and it has to last until next spring.'"

Zhu Yong looked at him.

"Elder brother, at that moment I suddenly thought, if the court's grain were a bit more, the porridge could contain an extra handful of rice, and the common people could eat an extra mouthful of food."

"If the court's grain were a bit more, those families whose rice fields failed would not have to sell their sons and daughters, nor have to drag their households away to flee famine."

"If the court's grain were a bit more…"

He paused.

"Am I thinking too much?"

Zhu Biao shook his head.

"You are not thinking too much; you are thinking, elder brother is thinking, Imperial Father is thinking," Zhu Biao said, shaking his head.

Zhu Biao took a step forward.

"I know the amount in the Ministry of Revenue's granaries with my eyes closed; war needs grain, disaster relief needs grain, the Capital City's hundreds of thousands need grain, the border passes' tens of thousands of soldiers need grain, everywhere needs grain."

"Our Great Ming lands are just this size; Jiangnan produces grain, but the people of Jiangnan also need to eat, the land in Jiangnan also needs fallow periods, and Jiangnan also suffers disasters."

He looked at Zhu Yong and said.

"Second brother, tell me the solution you have thought of."

Zhu Yong looked at elder brother.

His elder brother, Crown Prince, the heir of Great Ming.

At this moment standing before Hongwu Gate, wind‑blown and dusty, blood vessels visible in his eyes, yet his gaze was calm and far‑reaching.

"Annam, Champa, Siam—those places harvest rice three times a year, and their output is more than double that of our Great Ming."

"I was at the Wenzhou seaside and saw a merchant ship returning from the South Sea; I went up and asked, and the shipowner said that Annam rice shipped to Great Ming costs three qian of silver per shi."

"Three qian of silver," Zhu Yong repeated.

"Our Great Ming rice sells for five to six qian in the market; in a bountiful year four qian, in a lean year eight qian, and not even one qian of silver can buy it."

Zhu Biao looked at him.

"You mean buying rice from the South Sea?"

"It's not just buying," Zhu Yong said.

"I'm wondering whether those places could be turned into Great Ming granaries."

Zhu Biao did not speak immediately.

He looked at his second brother.

This simpleton, who since childhood has wielded a hammer and eats a dou of rice per meal, now stands before him, saying to turn the South Sea into Great Ming granaries.

"How to turn it?" Zhu Biao asked.

"I haven't figured it out yet," Zhu Yong said honestly.

"I only know that those places have good soil and water, rice ripens three seasons a year, their people are few, land is abundant, they can't even plant it all."

"Our Great Ming has many people and little land, and we worry year after year over a few dou of rice."

"If we could plant food on the vacant land there and ship it back to Great Ming, the people wouldn't go hungry, and the court wouldn't have to worry about disaster relief each year."

He looked at Zhu Biao.

"Elder brother, do you think what I said is right or wrong?"

Zhu Biao shook his head.

"You are right..." Zhu Biao replied softly.

He paused and then said.

"Wang Baobao entered the palace last month and told Imperial Father about the South Sea matter.

He said that when he was in Northern Yuan, he had chatted with Western Regions merchants, who trade spices, pearls, ivory, and also grain from the South Sea."

"He said that among the South Sea nations, some had once submitted to the Great Yuan, some had not; those that had submitted still have impressions of the Great Yuan, but are unfamiliar with Great Ming."

Zhu Biao paused again.

"Annam, Champa, Siam, Zhenla, these countries are nominally vassals of Great Ming, but in reality, apart from tribute every few years, they have almost no contact with Great Ming."

Zhu Yong listened attentively.

"Then we could… have them come more?"

Zhu Biao smiled slightly.

"Your 'let them come more' is essentially tribute trade; in Hongwu Year Four, Imperial Father issued an edict that Annam, Champa, Siam, Zhenla and other states would tribute every three years, tribute ships would be tax‑exempt, and cargo aboard could be traded at the Maritime Trade Office."

"But not many come."

Zhu Yong asked, "Why?"

"The sea route is long, the risk high, and there is not enough profit," Zhu Biao said.

"Merchants of those countries sell spices, ivory, pearls; shipping a cargo to Great Ming can earn ten to twenty times the profit, and those who trade grain—one ship of rice shipped to Great Ming—."

After deducting freight, loss, and the crew's provisions, they can't earn much money.

"Merchants aren't stupid."

Zhu Yong fell silent.

He recalled the merchant ship at the Wenzhou coast.

The shipowner said, "Annan's rice shipped to Great Ming costs three silver coins per shi."

He didn't ask the shipowner how much profit there was.

Now that he thinks about it, perhaps they really can't earn much.

"Then… shall we send our own people to farm?" he scratched his head and said.

Zhu Biao looked at him.

"We have ships, people, and seeds in Great Ming," Zhu Yong said.

"We go to those places, find a vacant plot, clear the land, plant, harvest grain, and ship it back to Great Ming."

"The land there isn't theirs; it's just land they haven't cultivated."

Zhu Biao was silent for a long time.

"Second brother," he said softly.

"Mm."

"Your idea, elder brother has taken note of."

He paused briefly and then said.

"But now is not the time."

Zhu Yong looked at him.

"This year's natural disasters have the whole court busy with relief; the Ministry of Revenue's silver is flowing out like water," Zhu Biao said.

"The South Sea is unfamiliar to us—how far the sea route is, how many days the voyage takes, which months have typhoons, which ports can berth, which lands can be cleared, which rice variety yields best…"

"These, elder brother doesn't know either."

He looked at Zhu Yong.

"You don't know either."

Zhu Yong nodded.

"Mm, I don't know."

"Then let's find out first," Zhu Biao said.

"Next year, the year after, and the year after that, when the court eases this pressure and the Ministry of Revenue's treasury fills a bit, elder brother will dispatch people to set sail, go to the South Sea to explore."

"Draw the routes, mark the ports, and discern the realities of those countries."

"By then…"

He didn't finish.

Zhu Yong, however, understood.

"By then, elder brother will decide," Zhu Yong said.

"Father said elder brother is the Crown Prince; the future kingdom will be his, and when elder brother says to attack, I will attack then."

Zhu Biao looked at him, then smiled and said: "Tonight stay in the palace for dinner; Imperial Mother says she misses Huan Huan, so have Guanyin Nu bring her into the palace."

"Father will come later; you tell father about the Wenzhou matter."

Zhu Yong followed up: "Elder brother, about the South Sea matter…"

"…also tell father," Zhu Biao said.

"Father thinks further ahead than elder brother."

……

Kunning Palace, during the evening meal.

Zhu Yuanzhang sat at the head seat, and Empress Ma sat beside him.

Zhu Biao and Zhu Yong, the two brothers, sat at the lower seat, while Guanyin Nu held Zhu Huanhuan beside Zhu Yong.

Chang Wan was absent, staying in the Eastern Palace to look after Zhu Xiongying, and she was also about to give birth.

Zhu Huanhuan was lively and active; just now Empress Ma was holding her, and she twisted around in the Empress's arms, reaching for the snacks on the table.

Empress Ma smiled and pinched a piece of osmanthus cake for her.

"Huan Huan, call Grandfather first," Empress Ma said.

Zhu Huanhuan blinked her eyes, in a baby voice said, "Grandfather."

Zhu Yuanzhang's face smiled like a flower and said, "Eh!"

He took the granddaughter from Empress Ma's arms and placed her on his lap.

"Huan Huan, is Grandfather's osmanthus cake tasty?"

"Delicious!" Zhu Huanhuan nodded her little head.

"Then Grandfather gives you this piece as well."

Zhu Biao ate silently beside them, a faint smile at the corner of his mouth.

Zhu Yong hunched over his rice; riding back all the way, he was truly famished.

Guanyin Nu quietly passed him a side dish; he smiled and then continued eating.

The meal lasted until the hour of Xu (7–9 p. m.).

Zhu Huanhuan fell asleep in Zhu Yuanzhang's arms, and Empress Ma carried her to a side hall to be placed.

Zhu Yuanzhang set down his chopsticks and looked at Zhu Yong.

"Over in Wenzhou, what's the situation?"

Zhu Yong set the bowl down and recounted the conditions in Wenzhou in full detail.

Deaths, collapsed houses, salt fields, dikes.

Relief grain, porridge‑distribution sheds, chopsticks tipped into the Bowl Bottom.

He spoke very plainly, without embellishment, without sentimentality.

Zhu Yuanzhang listened, his face expressionless.

When he finished, he remained silent for a long while.

"We understand," he said.

No further commentary, no sighs, no anger; Zhu Yuanzhang had endured more, and at that time he lived even more poorly, not even the distribution of porridge.

Zhu Yong also knew that his father had recorded all of this in his heart.

"Anything else?" Zhu Yuanzhang asked.

Zhu Yong glanced at Zhu Biao.

Zhu Biao nodded slightly.

"Father, I've been thinking about the South Sea," Zhu Yong said.

Zhu Yuanzhang looked at him.

"What about the South Sea?"

Zhu Yong expressed his thoughts from Wenzhou.

The rice of the South Sea yields three harvests a year and is cheap.

Great Ming's food supplies are insufficient, worrying every year over disaster relief.

Could we send people to the South Sea to farm, and bring the grain back to Great Ming?

He spoke somewhat incoherently, saying whatever came to mind.

Zhu Yuanzhang did not interrupt, listening to him until the end.