Chapter 490: Relay Station

Half a month later, the telegraph Workshop produced its first prototype.

Lin Yuan went himself to Wu Wang Fu and invited Zhu Yong to the Ministry of Works.

The prototype was placed in the center of the Workshop, a wooden box containing coils and relays, the lid fitted with a telegraph key, a receiver set beside it, and the earphone hung on the box rim.

Zhu Yong walked over, picked up the key, and pressed it a few times.

Tap tap tap…

The sound was crisp, echoing through the Workshop.

Lin Yuan put on the earphone, listened for a while, and nodded.

Prince, the three dots you sent represent the character "three."

Zhu Yong set the key down, a faint smile curling his lips.

It can be used…

Lord Lin, lay a line from the Ministry of Works to the Zijin Mountain telegraph station and test how far it can transmit.

Lin Yuan replied and led the craftsmen to lay the line.

Three days later, the line was completed.

From the Ministry of Works to the Zijin Mountain station was fifteen li, with three hundred telegraph poles erected along the way.

Zhu Yong stood before the Ministry of Works' telegraph machine, took the key, and tapped out a string of code.

Tap tap tap, tap tap, tap tap tap…

This is the Morse code for "SOS," the internationally recognized distress signal.

Although no one these days knows what the signal means, Zhu Yong simply wanted to send it.

Lin Yuan, wearing the earphone, sat at the receiver, focused and listened for a while, then took a pen and wrote several symbols on paper.

Prince, what you sent is "dot dot dot, dash dash dash, dot dot dot"; I do not know how to translate it.

Zhu Yong smiled.

No translation needed; just test the signal.

Lin Yuan nodded and continued listening.

The signal was clear; every dot and every dash was heard distinctly.

Zhu Yong sent another string of code.

This time it was the code for the four characters "Great Ming Mighty."

Lin Yuan listened for a while, wrote the symbols on paper, then opened the codebook and translated them one by one.

Great… Ming… Mighty… Prince, received!

The Workshop erupted in cheers.

The craftsmen gathered around, looking at the paper with the code, chattering all at once.

Did it really arrive? From fifteen li away?

Lord Lin says it arrived; how could it be false?

Prince Zhen Guo Wang is truly a deity; he can pull this off!

Zhu Yong stood among the crowd, his expression calm.

Received, fifteen li.

But this is only the beginning.

From Yingtian to Beiping, over three thousand li, the route must cross countless mountains, rivers, and valleys, requiring tens of thousands of telegraph poles and hundreds of relay stations.

The road is still very long…

Lord Lin, continue the experiment and see how far the maximum transmission can reach.

Lin Yuan replied and led the craftsmen to keep adjusting.

A little over two months later, the telegraph line from Yingtian to Suzhou was operational.

Over two hundred li, with more than four thousand poles erected along the way and a dozen relay stations installed.

Zhu Yong stood before the Suzhou Prefecture's telegraph machine, took the key, and tapped out a string of code.

Yingtian, Yingtian, this is Suzhou; please reply upon receipt.

A moment later, an echo returned through the earphone.

Suzhou, Suzhou, this is Yingtian; the signal is clear.

Zhu Yong set the key down, turned, and looked at Lin Yuan.

It worked; over two hundred li can be transmitted.

Lin Yuan's eyes reddened with excitement.

Prince, if over two hundred li can be transmitted, three hundred li and four hundred li can as well; as long as there are enough relay stations, transmitting thousands of li is no problem!

Zhu Yong nodded and patted Lin Yuan's shoulder.

Next step, from Yingtian to Beiping, over three thousand li; how do you plan to lay the line?

Lin Yuan thought for a moment, walked to the map hanging on the wall, and pointed to the route from Yingtian to Beiping.

Prince, from Yingtian northward, passing Xuzhou, Jinan, Hejian, to Beiping, the whole way is plain, so laying the line is easy.

The difficulty lies in crossing the Yellow River and the Canal; special iron towers are needed, tall and sturdy, so the lines won't be washed away by floods.

Anything else?

Also winter; the Northern Region's cold makes wires contract and break, so special frost‑resistant material is required, and people must be dispatched for regular inspections to repair any breaks promptly.

Zhu Yong nodded and said, "Draft a regulation and later submit it to the elder brother for approval."

Lin Yuan replied.

On the road back from Suzhou, Zhu Yong sat in the carriage with his eyes closed.

The telegraph machine was still on their mind.

The more‑than‑three‑thousand‑li line from Yingtian to Beiping would take at least a year to build.

After a year, news from Beiping could be transmitted instantly to Yingtian.

Any movement at the border passes would be known to the court immediately.

Merchants conducting trade could also learn the market conditions everywhere at any time.

This thing is a hundred times faster than riding a horse.

The carriage entered Yingtian Prefecture city as night was falling.

The street lamps lit up one by by, illuminating the whole street as bright as day.

Zhu Yong looked at the lamps through the carriage window, a slight smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

With electric lamps came the telegraph.

In a few more years, telephones would appear as well.

All those things depend on electricity.

The carriage stopped at the gate of Wu Wang Fu.

Zhu Yong got off the carriage and strode into the mansion.

Guanyin Nu was busy in the kitchen with Zhu Huanhuan, Zhu QiongJiong was lifting a Stone Lock in the courtyard, and Zhu Qiongwu rode his small three‑wheeled cart around the courtyard.

"Dad!" Seeing Zhu Yong come in, Zhu Qiongwu dropped the three‑wheeler and ran over.

Zhu Yong bent down, lifted his son, and laughed, "Were you good today?"

"Good! Dad, is the telegraph machine finished?" Zhu Qiongwu hugged his father's neck.

"It's done. From Yingtian to Suzhou, over two hundred li, messages can be sent now."

Zhu Qiongwu's eyes lit up as he said, "So from now on we won't need to ride horses to deliver letters?"

"Hmm, no longer needed. Press a key and the message goes through."

Zhu Qiongwu nodded as if half‑understanding.

Zhu Yong carried his son into the house.

The table was already set with dishes, steaming hot.

The family sat together, eating and chatting.

After dinner, Zhu Yong sat in the study, spreading out the telegraph line map from Yingtian to Beiping before him.

Lin Yuan marked several key points—Xuzhou, Jinan, Hejian—each requiring a relay station and staff.

He picked up a pen, drew several lines on the map, annotating each relay station's location and distance.

From Xuzhou to Jinan is three hundred li, needing two relay stations in between.

From Jinan to Hejian is four hundred li, requiring three relay stations.

From Hejian to Beiping is two hundred li, with one relay station in the middle.

Including the Yingtian to Xuzhou segment, a total of over ten relay stations must be built.

Each station needs at least five people, and with patrol and maintenance staff, the total reaches several hundred.

A few hundred people—not many, but not too few either.

The Ministry of Works is recruiting again.

Guanyin Nu carried in a bowl of soup and set it on the table.

"Lord, it's late at night; have a bowl of soup to warm yourself."

Zhu Yong took it, took a sip—it was chicken soup, very fresh.

"Lord, the telegraph machine is finished; will you be busy again?"

"Hmm, will be busy for a while; the more‑than‑three‑thousand‑li line from Yingtian to Beiping will take a year to build."

Guanyin Nu sat opposite him, watching him.

"Lord, when will you have free time?"

Zhu Yong thought for a moment, shook his head, and said, "No free time. After the telegraph machine, there's the telephone; after the telephone, the broadcast; after the broadcast, the television. One after another, no free time."

Guanyin Nu sighed and said nothing more.

Outside the window, the moon rose, shining brightly over the courtyard.

The spring of the twenty‑fifth year of Hongwu had just begun.

But the telegraph lines had already been laid out to the distant lands.