In the second year of the Longfeng era, the Red Turban Army under Zhu Yuanzhang captured Jiqing. After renaming it Yingtian Prefecture, the city became the core stronghold of Zhu Yuanzhang’s forces.
By the fifth year of Longfeng, Yingtian Prefecture’s city walls had been mostly rebuilt. The once-prosperous banks of the Qinhuai River and Xuanwu Lake had regained their former splendor, once again attracting wealthy merchants and distinguished guests from all directions.
On the shores of Xuanwu Lake stood Zhu Yuanzhang’s military headquarters. Ordinary people couldn’t buy property there no matter how much money they had. The grand estate of the wealthy Chen family occupied one of the finest locations by the lake, earning the envy of every rich merchant who passed by.
The common people suffered through endless war.
But for great merchant families, times of chaos were perfect opportunities to “wait for the right price” and “hoard rare goods for enormous profit.”
For example, the wealthy Shen family had pledged themselves to Zhang Shicheng, the Prince of Cheng, using their immense fortune to provide military grain and pay for his troops. The Chen family, on the other hand, had allied themselves with Zhu Yuanzhang early on, handling logistics and ensuring his army never lacked supplies.
Among the people of Jiangnan, it was now commonly said:
“The Shen family ranks first among the wealthy merchants; the Chen family ranks second.”
Whether those rankings would one day switch depended entirely on whether Zhang Shicheng or Zhu Yuanzhang would ultimately emerge victorious.
The head of the Shen family was Shen Fu, better known among the people as Shen Wansan.
The Chen family’s patriarch, however, remained an enigma.
Chen Di, the man who constantly appeared in public and managed all the family’s affairs, always referred to himself merely as “the family steward.” Whenever anyone asked about the true head of the Chen family, he would simply smile without answering, leaving everyone guessing.
Many people had repeatedly tried to uncover the identity of the Chen family’s master. Some had even attempted to bribe the family’s servants.
But no matter how greedy those servants might ordinarily be, the moment anyone asked about their master, they would be frightened half to death, as though their mysterious patriarch possessed supernatural abilities capable of learning every secret the instant it was spoken.
The Chen family had stolen countless business opportunities from the Shen family, repeatedly disrupting the supply of grain and military provisions to Zhang Shicheng’s forces.
Since Zhang Shicheng had begun his career as a salt smuggler, he valued wealth above almost everything else. He hated the Chen family to the bone and offered a reward of one thousand taels of gold for the head of its mysterious patriarch.
After Zhang Shicheng submitted to the Yuan court, the two sides began exchanging intelligence. Only then did they discover that this wealthy merchant surnamed Chen had also stolen a great deal of business from many powerful Yuan nobles.
To make matters worse, a terrible famine had struck that year. The Chen family had long since helped Zhu Yuanzhang stockpile grain to stabilize the population. As a result, countless ordinary people living under Yuan rule and in territories controlled by other rebel armies fled with their entire families into Zhu Yuanzhang’s lands.
After years of famine and warfare, nine out of every ten homes across China stood empty.
As long as there was enough grain, the ruler who had more people under his banner possessed greater strength.
Every day, Zhu Yuanzhang counted the newly registered households. He laughed himself awake from happy dreams several times every night.
Consequently, the Yuan court and the other rebel factions also began offering rewards for the head of the mysterious Chen family patriarch.
By now…
The Chen family patriarch’s head was worth ten thousand taels of gold.
Not silver.
Gold.
Ten thousand taels of it.
Chen Biao lay in a hammock strung between two lush trees in the courtyard, his little legs dangling in the air as they swung back and forth. He rubbed his perfectly round head, freshly shaved except for the small topknot tied on top, his face filled with melancholy.
Ten thousand taels of gold…
Why did he have the feeling…
…that he might not even live long enough to see Emperor Hongwu ascend the throne?
That’s right.
The mysterious head of the Chen family rumored throughout the outside world was none other than the little boy before your eyes.
Five years old this year.
A sturdy little fellow with a tiger-like face and a three-head-tall child’s proportions. His cheeks and belly were pleasantly chubby. He wore a sleeveless bright-red vest embroidered by his mother and a pair of emerald-green shorts.
Red paired with green.
It looked surprisingly festive.
He resembled one of those lucky children who stepped straight out of a New Year’s painting.
His name was Chen Biao.
The moment you saw that the mysterious master of the Chen family was only five years old, it was obvious.
Chen Biao was a transmigrator.
He had transmigrated into the chaotic final years of the Yuan dynasty.
When he first arrived, his family seemed so poor that all four walls of the house were bare.
As memories of his previous life gradually resurfaced, one day he overheard his mother, while holding him in her arms, mention that another family’s child had starved during the famine…
…and had ended up as meat in the neighbor’s cooking pot.
The news scared him so badly he nearly wet himself.
Unable even to walk yet, he immediately declared himself an immortal descended from heaven and began directing his family one word at a time on how to make money and stockpile grain.
Later, after Chen Biao finally learned to walk, he discovered that although his family wasn’t among the wealthiest merchants, they were still comfortably well-off.
Those bare walls had simply been because Jiqing had been devastated by war and hadn’t yet been rebuilt.
By the time he realized he was never actually in danger of becoming someone else’s dinner…
…it was already too late.
He had kept up the “immortal” act for so long that he was now five years old…
…and his head was worth ten thousand taels of gold.
Thinking of that, sorrow welled up in Chen Biao’s heart.
Actually, things never had to end up like this.
It was all the fault of his father, Comrade Chen Guorui.
The man had devoted his entire life to bringing honor to the family. After discovering that his son was a prodigy, he had immediately installed the baby—who couldn’t even sit upright without support—as the family patriarch before running off to join Zhu Yuanzhang’s army himself.
After Chen Guorui entered Zhu Yuanzhang’s service, Zhu Yuanzhang just so happened to be lacking capable merchants.
During wartime, merchants were indispensable. They could cross enemy territory to procure grain and funds, gather intelligence, and conduct espionage.
So while Chen Biao was busy staging a hunger strike because he absolutely refused to drink from a wet nurse…
…the Chen family had already climbed aboard Zhu Yuanzhang’s ship and transformed into the Zhu faction’s “official merchants.”
Chen Biao knew Zhu Yuanzhang would ultimately win.
Zhu Yuanzhang.
The future Emperor Hongwu of the Great Ming.
Who didn’t know that?
But in his later years, Emperor Hongwu had slaughtered more than half the officials in his court.
He also deeply hated the wealthy.
Shen Wansan, who had helped provision his armies and build his city walls, had ultimately died in exile.
Now that the Chen family was helping supply Zhu Yuanzhang’s armies…
…would they also be exiled in the future?
Fortunately, his father hadn’t been foolish enough to tell Zhu Yuanzhang that his son was a child prodigy.
Chen Biao rubbed his face and sniffled.
His father insisted the secret had been perfectly concealed.
But…
Did Zhu Yuanzhang really not know?
Chen Biao drew his short legs onto the hammock and hugged his knees into a tight little ball.
The breeze rocked the hammock gently.
The little ball named Chen Biao swayed back and forth with it, looking exactly like one of those oversized roly-poly dolls.
He felt like a foolish silkworm that had spun its own cocoon.
And his father?
His father had wrapped an extra layer of stainless steel around that cocoon and proudly called it “protection.”
Still hugging his knees, Chen Biao glanced down at the letter clutched in his chubby little hand.
The letter reported that Shen Fu—Shen Wansan—had died.
He had lived well into his seventies.
In an age of endless war and famine, that counted as a truly fortunate death.
The Shen family was now headed by his eldest son.
Shen Wansan…
The Shen Wansan who was supposed to be exiled after helping Zhu Yuanzhang build the city walls…
…was dead?
Then who would build Zhu Yuanzhang’s city walls in the future?
Who would be exiled instead?
…It couldn’t be me, could it?
Chen Biao rubbed his plump little cheeks again before collapsing sideways onto the hammock, still hugging his knees.
The roly-poly Chen Biao…
…had finally toppled over.
The breeze drifting in from Xuanwu Lake obligingly continued pushing the hammock.
It rocked back and forth.
Curled into a little ball, Chen Biao stared blankly into space.
He had completely shut down.
It wasn’t because he lacked emotional maturity.
It was because he genuinely wasn’t emotionally mature.
Calling it transmigration wasn’t entirely accurate.
It was more like he had watched a years-long movie entirely from a first-person perspective.
Those memories had been burned into his mind and naturally shaped his personality.
But to insist that he was the Chen Biao from those memories…
Well.
The cold, calculating, ruthless young businessman who had barely graduated from university before becoming a rising star in the corporate world…
…was nothing like him.
After all, he had grown up spoiled by loving parents.
Though admittedly…
Both of those parents were disasters in their own way.
You could say he had transmigrated…
…but not completely.
It was more like two souls had merged into one, creating an entirely new person.
Or perhaps his soul had simply been influenced by his body, leaving his mind that of a child.
After all, some people’s personalities in youth, adulthood, and old age were practically three different people.
The human body and its hormones had a tremendous influence on temperament.
In any case…
Chen Biao was immature.
He wanted to curl up hugging his knees and cry.
He wanted to shut himself away from the world.
And more than anything…
He wanted to make a straw doll in the likeness of his disaster of a father and beat it three times a day with the sole of a shoe.
Just as little Chen Biao was sinking into utter despair after reading the news of Shen Wansan’s death, a booming roar suddenly sounded from outside the courtyard.
“Son! Daddy’s back!”
The little ball named Chen Biao instantly exploded into motion.
With a thump, he rolled straight out of the hammock onto the soft grass below.
Without even bothering to brush away the blades of grass clinging to his clothes, he scrambled to his feet and pumped his tiny carrot-like legs as fast as they could carry him, desperately trying to flee this place of imminent danger.
Unfortunately…
The burly man with an honest, upright face and a simple, guileless grin—looking every bit like a hardworking farmer carrying a hoe down the roadside—had already charged through the gate like a hurricane.
Two equally honest-looking, equally burly men followed close behind him.
Chen Biao had barely taken a few steps before his simple-minded father scooped him up around the waist.
His tiny hands flailed uselessly.
Then, with a loud thunk…
His stomach slammed straight into the back of his father’s head.
“Ow…”
Clinging to his father’s head, Chen Biao nearly threw up all over the top of it.
Chen Guorui plopped his son onto his shoulders, grabbed both of the boy’s little carrot legs with his hands, and spun around several times on the spot as though dancing, grinning like an idiot for reasons known only to himself.
Chen Biao hugged his father’s head.
His entire body trembled.
His little face turned deathly pale.
When his father had hoisted him onto his shoulders…
Not only had his swollen little belly taken a hit…
That thick, sturdy protrusion of his father’s cervical spine had also launched a vicious sneak attack against his poor, precious family jewels.
Back in modern times, there had once been an idiotic game popular among teenage boys called “Aruba.”
Several idiots would lift one of their friends up…
…and ram his crotch into a tree.
The cold, aloof version of Chen Biao from his previous life’s memories had once watched classmates playing that stupid game from the upper floor of a school building.
He had never understood what was supposed to be fun about it.
Naturally, he had never tried it himself.
Now…
Chen Biao finally understood the game’s “appeal.”
It…
It…
It hurt like absolute hell, damn it!
“Big Brother, Big Brother, Biao’er doesn’t look too good.” Xu Da scratched his head. “He seems to be clutching his crotch and crying that it hurts.”
Tang He immediately grew nervous.
“Boss! Boss! Did you accidentally smash your nephew’s little bird?”
Chen Guorui’s expression changed drastically. He hurriedly set Chen Biao down on the ground.
Clamping his legs together and covering his crotch with both hands, Chen Biao shot his father a deeply aggrieved look.
Chen Guorui immediately crouched down.
Alarmed, Chen Biao cried, “Dad, what are you doing?!”
Anxiously, Chen Guorui replied, “Hurry up and let your father take a look!”
Chen Biao turned and ran.
“No! I won’t!” Do I not have any dignity?!
Chen Guorui waved a large hand.
The two simple-looking brothers behind him pounced like tigers, pinning Chen Biao to the ground.
“Hurry and let your uncle have a look.”
“Don’t move around. Let your uncle check. If there’s a problem, we can call a doctor.”
“It’s fine, it’s fine. You scared your father half to death. The… the precious family line of the Chen family. Biao’er, does it still hurt?”
After finishing his inspection, Chen Guorui even gave Chen Biao’s little bird a light pat.
With his green shorts pulled down, Chen Biao lay spread-eagled on the grass like a fish on a chopping board, all life gone from his eyes.
After living like this for five years, how could little Chen Biao possibly still think of himself as an adult transmigrator?
An adult?
That person no longer existed.
I’m just a child.
I don’t understand anything.
Nor do I possess things like shame or dignity.
Silently, Chen Biao climbed to his feet, pulled up his emerald-green shorts, tightened the waistband, and cast a resentful glance at his grinning father and uncles.
“What are you all doing back?”
Chuckling foolishly, Chen Guorui said, “The battle’s over, so we came back. Oh, right, there’s something else.”
Embarrassed, he rubbed the same big hand that had just patted Chen Biao’s little bird.
Pulling a long face, Chen Biao sighed.
“Don’t tell me you’re here to ask for money and grain again? Go bathe and change first. I’ll make something delicious for you. We can talk after you’ve eaten your fill. What do you want?”
Just as I thought!
I knew that ridiculous grin meant nothing good!
Chen Guorui immediately answered, “Braised mutton! The kind you make yourself, son!”
Xu Da and Tang He chimed in.
“Anything’s fine.”
“Biao’er, everything you cook tastes good.”
Chen Biao said, “Braised mutton takes several hours to stew. If you’re not afraid of indigestion, I’ll make it for dinner tonight. For lunch, I’ll cook something simpler.”
Chen Guorui thumped his chest proudly.
“We’re all military men! We’re not afraid of indigestion! Bring it on! Just throw together some meat for lunch.”
Chen Biao rolled his eyes.
“Living on meat alone isn’t good for your health. Especially for generals like you who spend all your time marching and fighting without enough fresh vitamins or dietary fiber…”
He paused.
“…Forget it. You wouldn’t understand anyway. I’ll just make something. Is it only you three?”
He craned his head past Chen Guorui.
“Where’s Mother?”
Chen Guorui’s smile suddenly became rather guilty.
“Your mother… well… she’s not very strong, so she’s riding in a carriage. It’s slower. We brothers came ahead on horseback. Besides your mother, your cousin Li Bao’er and your cousin Chen Wenzheng are with her.”
Chen Biao nodded.
“I’ll make Mother something nourishing that’s easy to digest.”
He narrowed his eyes at his father.
“And don’t you steal any.”
Chen Guorui immediately raised a hand in oath.
“Of course I won’t! Do you think your father is that kind of person?”
Being an extremely unfilial son, Chen Biao rolled his eyes.
“Aren’t you?”
Xu Da answered honestly.
“He is.”
Tang He nodded.
“Definitely.”
Chen Guorui immediately glared fiercely at the two brothers, carrying all the imposing authority of a decisive battlefield commander.
Unfortunately, in front of Chen Biao, neither Xu Da nor Tang He was remotely afraid of him.
They even glared right back.
“Enough, enough. Stop fooling around and go bathe.”
Chen Biao glanced toward the servants entering the courtyard.
After his father’s commotion, all the servants waiting outside had rushed in.
“Take my father and my uncles to wash up. Heat the bathwater in advance for my mother and my two elder brothers as well.”
After a moment’s thought, he added,
“Call Brother Ying back and have him hand his current task over to someone else.”
The servants acknowledged the orders and dispersed.
Chen Biao headed to the kitchen first to direct the preparations for lunch before going to bathe and change his own clothes.
Nowadays, he belonged to the thoroughly evil landlord-and-merchant class.
So when he said he would “cook personally,” what he really meant was personally directing everyone else to cook.
During the Song and Yuan dynasties, maritime trade had flourished.
All Chen Biao had to do was identify edible plants and spices from memory and send people to gather them.
He had one of the grazing cattle purchased from the Mongols slaughtered to prepare Chaoshan-style beef hotpot for his father and the others.
A clear broth was simmered from beef bones and white radish.
Different cuts of beef were sliced paper-thin until they were almost translucent.
Fresh vegetables, bamboo shoots, and mushrooms were piled high on platters.
An entire basket of hand-cut noodles was prepared as well.
There was meat, vegetables, and a staple food.
One whole cow was just enough for his father, uncles, and elder brothers, whose appetites were outrageously enormous.
Besides the freshness of the beef, the soul of Chaoshan beef hotpot was the satay sauce.
Everyone had their own recipe.
Chen Biao’s secret blend used dried shrimp, fish, diced beef fat, scallions, ginger, garlic, peanuts, and white sesame seeds, together with cloves, pepper, turmeric, dried tangerine peel, and other spices.
Unfortunately, he had never made it to the American continent to find chili peppers.
He could only substitute chili oil with ai oil made from Chinese pepper berries.
The thought immediately put him in a foul mood.
If Zhu Yuanzhang hadn’t constantly demanded more and more from him, delaying his plans, his people would already have set sail in search of the American continent.
Watching television dramas where Zhu Yuanzhang squeezed wealthy merchants dry had always felt satisfying.
Actually becoming one of those merchants…
…wasn’t satisfying at all.
I don’t want to donate my cow because I actually have a cow!
While Chen Biao was carrying out his daily ritual of cursing Zhu Yuanzhang…
…Zhu Yuanzhang—
Or rather, Chen Guorui—
was also talking about the American continent.
Zhu Yuanzhang, also known as Zhu Guorui and Zhu Chongba, was now one of the leaders of the Red Turban Army.
His territory was neither particularly large nor particularly small, but he was certainly one of the major contenders for supremacy over the realm.
Soaking comfortably in a hot bath, Zhu Yuanzhang grumbled to his two old brothers,
“Biao’er keeps talking about going to some American continent to look for corn, potatoes, and chili peppers every other day. But we’re about to fight Xu Shouhui. Where am I supposed to find ships for him to sail off to the American continent?”
Zhu Yuanzhang sighed in distress.
Having a son who was too capable was a problem in itself.
The little fellow only had to wave his chubby fingers around and produce one elaborate plan after another.
Meanwhile, as the father responsible for carrying them out, Zhu Yuanzhang was losing more hair than he did fighting wars.
Zhu Yuanzhang had never imagined that after becoming a Grand Marshal, the list of professions he had held—farmer, beggar, monk, and common soldier—would one day gain yet another entry:
A great wealthy merchant.