Chapter 382: Inspection

The morning sun drifted in from the east, tinting Sama'erhan's blue dome a shade of golden‑blue.

Zhu Biao stood on the city wall, hands behind his back, gazing at the city his second brother had captured.

The morning breeze blew from the west, carrying the Gobi's characteristic dryness and the scent of distant cooking smoke.

The wall was taller than he imagined, and the city larger than he imagined.

The blue‑dome mosques glimmered in the dawn light, different from Yingtian Prefecture's glazed tiles, yet equally beautiful.

"Brother, it's time to set out," Zhu Yong said, walking up from below the city, a water bag in each hand, handing one over.

Zhu Biao took it, slung it onto his saddle, and asked, "Where are we going today?"

"First head west to the new town two hundred li west of Sama'erhan. It was established this year as an immigrant settlement; last year three thousand households moved here from Yingtian Prefecture, Xi'an, and Lanzhou, planting wheat and cotton, and raising many sheep."

Zhu Di followed from behind, with Zhu Xiongying, Zhu Qiong Jiong, Zhu Huanhuan, and Zhu Gaochi trailing him.

Zhu Xiongying, fifteen, was nearly as tall as his father, dressed in a half‑worn blue robe, a short sword at his waist—a welcome gift from Zhu Yong.

Zhu Qiong Jiong, twelve, shouldered the Wolf Fang Club, its head polished to a shine, moving with a gust of wind.

Zhu Huanhuan rode a gentle white horse, cradling a book in her hands, occasionally looking up at the brothers ahead.

Zhu Gaochi rode a pony, clutching a small notebook, murmuring words under his breath.

"Everyone's ready, let's go," Zhu Yong said, flipping onto his horse and leading the way toward the city gate.

Zhu Biao followed beside him, while Zhu Di held the rear.

The children giggled as they trailed at the end; Zhu Xiongying and Zhu Qiong Jiong huddled together, chatting, punctuated by bursts of laughter.

Sama'erhan's streets were wide enough for four wagons to travel side by side.

Shops on both sides had opened, selling flatbreads, roasted meat, carpets, and spices.

People of many colors weaved through the street—Han People, Persians, Turks, and a few blond‑haired, blue‑eyed European merchants haggling before a silk stall.

An elderly Han man pushing a cart turned out from the corner, shouting hoarsely.

Seeing Zhu Yong's party, he froze for a moment, then hurriedly knelt to pay his respects.

Zhu Yong waved his hand, signaling him to rise.

The old man got up, stepped back to the roadside, head lowered, yet his eyes kept glancing this way.

Zhu Biao watched the scene, a faint smile curling his lips.

He recalled that in Yingtian Prefecture, when Imperial Father toured, the people behaved the same—respectful but not fearful.

"Second brother, do these people obey you?" he asked.

"Disobedience isn't allowed. When we first captured it, some caused trouble; we killed a group, imprisoned another, and the rest settled down."

"Later we gave them land, seeds, and tools, letting them farm and trade; once life improved, no one caused trouble any more."

Zhu Yong said lightly.

Zhu Biao nodded.

The party exited the city gate, marching west along the official road.

The road, newly built in the past two years, was paved with cement and gravel, two zhang wide, stretching straight into the distance.

On both sides lay vast fields of wheat, already ear‑bearing, verdant as far as the eye could see.

In the fields, farmers toiled—some weeding, some watering, others driving oxen to plow.

Zhu Xiongying perched on his horse, watching the farmers, then asked, "Second Uncle, were all these lands cultivated by the immigrants?"

"Not entirely. Those over there were planted by locals—Persians, Turks included. When we first took it, they dared not sow, fearing we would seize the land."

"Later the authorities issued land deeds, promising never to reclaim them, and only then did they dare to farm." Zhu Yong pointed to a distant wheat field as he spoke.

"Even locals get deeds?" Zhu Xiongying asked, somewhat surprised.

"Yes, equal treatment. Xiong Ying, remember, governing a region, fairness is paramount. If you are fair, the people will obey; if you show favoritism, no matter how great your achievements, they're wasted."

Zhu Yong glanced at him and said.

Zhu Xiongying nodded thoughtfully.

Zhu Qiong Jiong interjected, "Brother Xiong Ying, my father also said that merely giving land isn't enough; you must also provide seeds, tools, and teach them to farm. Here people used to rely on the heavens; the harvest depended entirely on the sky's mood."

"Now that we're here, we repair canals, dig wells, teach fertilization—one mu yields two or three shi more than before."

Zhu Xiongying's eyes brightened, "Qiong Jiong, you know so much."

Zhu Qiong Jiong grinned, "Following dad around every day, I've learned how to listen well."

Zhu Biao listened to the children's conversation, a vague feeling welling up inside him.

These children of his second brother were unlike the aristocratic youths he'd seen in Yingtian Prefecture.

Zhu Huanhuan was composed and restrained, like a genteel lady, yet possessed a heroic spirit at her core.

Zhu Qiong Jiong was wildly untamed; on the battlefield he could slay foes, off the horse he could speak of agriculture.

Then there was Zhu Gaochi, only nine, yet adept at accounting and governance, more efficient than many adult officials.

"Brother, look over there," Zhu Yong said, pointing to a distant orchard.

Zhu Biao followed his gaze; the orchard was vast, stretching beyond sight.

The trees bore clusters of green fruits, heavy enough to bend the branches.

"What's grown there?"

"Apples, pears, apricots, and grapes brought from Persia. Last year we brewed a batch of wine and sent it to Yingtian Prefecture; Imperial Father tasted it and said it was fine," Zhu Yong said with a smile.

Zhu Di interjected, "Second Brother, you still have the nerve to say that? Imperial Father drank your wine and dismissed mine. I've been brewing wine in the Western Regions for years, and Imperial Father has never praised it."

Zhu Yong glanced at him and said, "Your wine is sour."

Zhu Di retorted, "That's the Western Regions' style; people there like that flavor."

"Imperial Father doesn't like…"

Zhu Di opened his mouth, then fell silent.

Zhu Biao listened beside him, the smile at the corner of his mouth deepening.

After walking for about an hour, a small town appeared ahead.

The town was not large, with a hundred or so households; the houses were built of yellow earth, but the Street was very clean.

At the town's entrance stood a stone tablet inscribed with the two characters "New City."

"Is this the settlement you mentioned?" Zhu Biao asked.

Zhu Yong nodded: "It was built last year, three thousand households, fifteen thousand people; the land has been allocated, the irrigation canals are finished. This year's first wheat crop is growing well, and after the autumn harvest we'll be self‑sufficient."

He dismounted, turned, and led Zhu Biao into the town.

A few children also got off their horses and followed behind.

The townsfolk, upon seeing Zhu Yong, stopped their work one after another, bowed, and performed the salute.

No one knelt, no one panicked; it was simply a natural, effortless respect.

Zhu Biao noted that the townspeople had smiles on their faces.

It wasn't a forced grin, but the smile of people whose lives had improved, a sincere, reassuring grin.

A white‑haired old man emerged from the courtyard, and upon seeing Zhu Yong his eyes brightened as he said, "Prince has arrived, come in quickly and sit; tea has just been boiled inside."

Zhu Yong waved his hand and said, "No need to sit; I'm bringing my elder brother to have a look."

The old man only then noticed Zhu Biao, froze for a moment, and then hurriedly bowed, saying, "A humble subject has seen the Crown Prince."

Zhu Biao helped him to his feet and asked, "Elder, have you become accustomed to living here?"

The old man's eyes were a bit red, and he hurriedly said, "Accustomed, accustomed… I, a humble subject, came from Fengxiang Prefecture; back home the land was scarce and people many, and even working all year we could not get enough to eat."

After arriving here, the Prince allotted fifty mu of land, also gave seeds and farming tools, and exempted us from taxes for the first three years.

Last year we harvested thirty shi of wheat; we kept enough to eat, sold the surplus, and saved a dozen or so taels of silver."

He clasped Zhu Biao's hand and chattered on, moving from farming to raising sheep, and from raising sheep to his son taking a wife.