Chapter 492: Returning to the Village

The 25th year of Hongwu, the 8th day of the fourth month.

On the official road outside Yingtian Prefecture City, a new wooden pole was erected every fifty zhang.

At the top of each pole sat a white porcelain bottle, its mouth clamped by two copper wires, shimmering with a dark‑red glow in the sun.

Leaving the north gate of Yingtian, the road went north through Chuzhou, Fengyang, Suizhou, and stretched all the way to Xuzhou.

Over three hundred li of road and more than six thousand poles; Zhu Biao allocated three hundred thousand taels of silver, and the Ministry of Revenue officials winced in pain but dared not utter a single "no".

Zhu Yong rode north along the line, followed by Wang Gui and a detachment of Longxiang Army Imperial Troops.

At each pole he stopped to inspect whether the pole was straight, whether the porcelain bottle had cracks, and whether the copper wires were securely mounted.

Lin Yuan trailed behind, notebook in hand, recording each problem line by line.

"Prince, Chuzhou is just ahead," Wang Gui urged his horse forward.

Zhu Yong halted his horse and gazed at the small town in the distance.

Chuzhou was small, its walls low, yet the city gate bustled with a constant flow of people.

Since the telegraph line began to be laid, each prefecture along the way dispatched laborers to dig pits, erect poles, and string wires, all in a frenzy of activity.

The Prefect of Chuzhou was a man in his early thirties, surnamed Wang, a jinshi of the 20th year of Hongwu.

Upon hearing that the Prince of Zhiguo had arrived, he hurriedly led officials to greet him, kneeling all over the city gate.

Zhu Yong waved his hand, telling them to rise. He dismounted, walked to a newly erected pole outside the gate, and gave it a shake.

"Prefect Wang, this pole isn't properly anchored."

Prefect Wang's forehead broke into sweat, and he hurriedly said, "I will have people re‑embed it at once."

Zhu Yong gave him a glance but said nothing.

He turned, looked at Lin Yuan beside him, and said, "Sir Lin, keep an eye on it. If a pole isn't firmly set, a gust will topple it; a broken line can be spliced, but a fallen pole crushing someone is no small matter."

Lin Yuan replied, and led the craftsmen to fix that pole.

Zhu Yong rode into Chuzhou city.

The city's streets were narrow but tidy, and the shops on either side were open, selling everything.

A few townsfolk stood by the street, craning their necks to look at the newly strung telegraph wires, chatting animatedly.

"Can this thing really transmit messages?"

"The Ministry of Works says it's real; from Yingtian to Xuzhou, a few hundred li, a single press connects it."

"That's impressive…"

Zhu Yong passed them, a faint smile curling his lips.

The townsfolk didn't grasp the telegraph's principle, but they knew it was a good thing. That was enough.

After spending a night in Chuzhou, Zhu Yong set off north again at dawn the next day.

Two more days later, he arrived at Fengyang.

Fengyang was Zhu Yuanzhang's hometown and the site of the Zhu Family ancestral tomb.

Zhu Yong stayed a day in Fengyang, visited the ancestral tomb, and then went to see the village where he had once lived.

The village remained, but its inhabitants had changed several generations.

The old village head had died the year before, Aunt Li was gone, Wang Tiejiang didn't survive last winter, and Ergouzi had gone to Xuzhou to do business.

Zhu Yong stood beneath the old locust tree at the village entrance, fell silent for a moment, then took some silver from his pocket and handed it to Wang Gui.

"Distribute it among the villagers; every household should receive a share,"

Wang Gui replied and went with his men.

Zhu Yong swung back onto his horse and continued north.

Three more days later, he reached Xuzhou.

Xuzhou was the first major station on the telegraph line from Yingtian to Beiping, and the site of the first relay station.

Lin Yuan stationed twenty craftsmen here, on round‑the‑clock watch, to ensure the line stayed clear.

Zhu Yong rested a day in Xuzhou, inspected the relay station's equipment and staffing, and inquired about the line's testing status.

Lin Yuan reported that the two‑hundred‑li line from Yingtian to Xuzhou was already operational, with clear signals and no interference.

Zhu Yong nodded and told him to keep laying northward, aiming to reach Jinan before year‑end.

When he returned from Xuzhou, it was already late April.

The telegraph line outside Yingtian Prefecture City had now been extended to Xuzhou.

Lin Yuan, with workers from the Ministry of Works, toiled day and night—erecting poles, stringing wires, testing—without pause.

Over three hundred li of road, more than five thousand telegraph poles, a dozen relay stations—from Yingtian to Xuzhou—messages now crossed in an instant.

Zhu Yong sat in the study of Wu Wang Fu, a progress report from the Ministry of Works spread before him.

The telegraph line's progress was smooth; reaching Jinan before year‑end should pose no problem.

The telegraph machine blueprint was received on the first day of the Spring Festival; three months later the prototype was built, the test line connected, and the main line laid out.

Lin Yuan was indeed efficient; Zhu Yong saw no mistake.

Footsteps sounded outside the study door, measured and unhurried.

Zhu Yong looked up and saw Guanyin Nu carrying a bowl of soup into the room, followed by Zhu Huanhuan.

The twenty‑something girl wore a goose‑yellow summer dress, her hair braided down her back, standing quietly; her brows and eyes resembled Guanyin Nu's, yet she possessed a hint of vigor.

"Prince, have a bowl of soup before you look again," Guanyin Nu placed the bowl on the table.

Zhu Yong took it, sipped—the fish broth was very fresh. He set the bowl down and glanced at his daughter.

Huan Huan was twenty‑two this year, married to another woman of Great Ming; at that age, most children have already borne several offspring.

Yet she still hadn't been betrothed.

In recent years, suitors have trampled over Wu Wang Fu's threshold—sons of noble families, scholars' sons, merchants' heirs, and even envoys from a few small European royal houses seeking marriage.

He didn't agree to any of them, thinking those people are unworthy of his daughter.

Guanyin Nu urged him several times, and he kept saying there's no hurry. But now his daughter is already twenty‑two, saying there's no hurry is a lie.

"Dad, what are you looking at?" Zhu Huanhuan felt a little uneasy under her father's gaze, her face flushing slightly.

Zhu Yong withdrew his gaze, smiled and said, "Looking at you—you're already grown up. The year you were born, I was still at Yingtian Prefecture. When your mother gave birth to you, I stood at the doorway, as frantic as ants on a hot pan."

Zhu Huanhuan also laughed, "Dad, you've said it many times."

"Even if you've said it many times, you still have to say it…"

Zhu Yong stood up, walked to the window and continued, "Huan Huan, I haven't set your marriage because I'm waiting for you to find someone you truly like."

Zhu Huanhuan's face reddened further. After a moment of silence she lifted her head and softly said, "Dad, I actually have something I want to tell you."

Zhu Yong turned around and looked at her.

"Daughter… I met someone at the school outside the city," Zhu Huanhuan's voice grew softer, but her back was straight and her gaze unflinching.

"Who is he?"

"His name is Gu Xian, twenty‑one this year, a native of Jinling. His family trades in silk and tea; he's educated and has practiced martial arts. At the school outside the city he teaches European children to read and write, for free."

I met him when I delivered books to the school; we chatted a few times. I think he's learned and insightful, good‑tempered, sincere, and… I think he's decent.

The hall fell silent for a moment.

Zhu Yong looked at his daughter, silent for a moment.

This girl is like her mother—soft in appearance, but with her own ideas.

If she can say "decent" on her own, that person truly is decent.

"Gu Xian, which Gu…"

"The Gu of Gu Yanwu, the Xian of Constitution."

Zhu Yong nodded, turned and looked at Guanyin Nu.

Guanyin Nu hadn't expected the daughter to speak up, was stunned for a moment, then stepped forward, grabbed the daughter's hand and examined her from head to toe.

"How many times have you met him?"

"Many times, Mother. I just think he's decent; it's not that far yet," Zhu Huanhuan said, her face red.

Guanyin Nu didn't ask further, but turned her head toward Zhu Yong.

Zhu Yong pondered briefly, then said, "As for Gu Xian, I'll send someone to investigate—what business his family runs, what kind of person he is, his conduct—all must be clarified."

"Wait a few days before you say anything…"

Zhu Huanhuan nodded, softly said, "Dad, I trust him."

Zhu Yong said nothing…

Whether to believe or not isn't up to you; it's up to the Brocade Guard.