Zhu Wenzheng, who had gone to recruit actors from the former Qing soldiers undergoing labor reform, returned looking radiant and full of energy.
Li Wenzhong, who had gone to recruit actors from among the common people, came back with his face bruised black and blue.
As the weather turned cooler, Chen Biao had put on a thicker cotton-padded jacket, making him look even more like a plump little lucky doll.
Ordinary tables and chairs were too tall for him, and whenever he sat on them, he couldn’t reach the tabletop. At the Chen residence, all of Chen Biao’s desks and chairs had been custom-made for him.
Now that Zhu Yuanzhang—his “child’s seat”—wasn’t around, Chen Biao had no choice but to place a round cushion on top of the table and sit cross-legged there while reading official documents.
When he saw his two older brothers return, Chen Biao looked up. He had been about to ask for the results with a serious expression, but Li Wenzhong’s appearance startled him.
“Cousin! What happened to your face?!”
Rubbing the bruises on his face, Li Wenzhong limped into the room. “The common people were a little too enthusiastic. I accidentally got knocked to the ground…”
Chen Biao jumped down from the table in fright.
He had actually leaped straight off a table nearly as tall as he was, giving both Zhu Wenzheng and Li Wenzhong quite a scare. They hurried forward, afraid he might fall.
Chen Biao landed steadily and grabbed Li Wenzhong’s hand.
“Didn’t you bring people to keep order? A stampede can kill people!”
“I did, I did,” Li Wenzhong hurriedly explained. “The moment I fell, they pulled me out. I only got stepped on a few times. It was my own fault. I underestimated how excited they would be.”
He paused and smiled bitterly.
“I only told them that they’d been selected to become actors and that I’d arrange for them to go to Yingtian to meet our adoptive mother. The moment I said that, they rushed at me like they’d gone mad.”
Although Li Wenzhong had resumed using his original surname, he was still one of the dozens of adopted sons accepted by Zhu Yuanzhang, so he continued to call Ma Xiuying “Adoptive Mother.” It also conveniently distinguished her from his maternal aunt, Madam Chen Ma.
Chen Biao laughed.
“You underestimated Lady Xiuying’s celebrity effect. Her reputation really is useful. Looks like even without noblewomen here to take charge, some things can still be accomplished.”
After checking on Li Wenzhong’s injuries again, Chen Biao was scooped into Zhu Wenzheng’s arms, the latter unwilling to be ignored.
Resting on his older cousin’s shoulder, Chen Biao said, “Lady Xiuying’s reputation can bring us a great deal of convenience, so you must be even more careful. Don’t ever tarnish her good name.”
Zhu Wenzheng rubbed the back of his cousin’s round little head.
“If anyone dares damage Adoptive Mother’s reputation, I’ll chop them down!”
“All you ever think about is chopping people!” Chen Biao said. “Strengthening military discipline is far more important!”
After a moment’s thought, he continued, “Simply suppressing the soldiers stationed here through military discipline isn’t a long-term solution. Better to guide than block. Come take a look at the plan I’ve written.”
Grinning from ear to ear, Zhu Wenzheng carried Chen Biao over to a grand armchair and sat down with him in his lap. He looked so pleased with himself that he resembled Zhu Yuanzhang—his adoptive father and fourth uncle.
Li Wenzhong rolled his eyes at him, dragged another grand armchair over, and said, “Move over and make room.”
“Why can’t you sit across from us?” Zhu Wenzheng complained.
“Because I can’t.”
Zhu Wenzheng was about to argue further when Chen Biao pinched him. He obediently shifted the chair aside and made room.
The two sat shoulder to shoulder while Chen Biao flipped through his written proposal and explained the next stage of their plans.
Writing the plays, teaching them, and rehearsing them would all take time. During that period, the work of restoring Yangzhou’s people’s livelihoods naturally couldn’t come to a halt. Everything had to proceed simultaneously.
When the reinforcements from the Chen family arrived, they brought not only people skilled in the performing arts, but also a large quantity of iron farming tools.
Yingtian had been the capital of six dynasties. Though they had all been short-lived regional regimes, that only proved what a precious land it truly was, even if people of ancient times didn’t fully understand just how rich it was.
But Chen Biao knew.
Yingtian had coal, iron, copper, and many other mineral resources. This region alone, combined with the “traditional steelmaking methods” Chen Biao knew, could provide Zhu Yuanzhang’s army with weapons far superior to those of any rival force.
The so-called “traditional blast furnace steelmaking” would produce nothing but scrap steel in the modern age, but in this era, it yielded weapons worthy of being called divine.
The steelmaking techniques Chen Biao introduced not only upgraded Zhu Yuanzhang’s military equipment, but were so efficient that they could produce farming tools at the same time as weapons. Although the farming tools were merely ordinary iron implements, they dramatically increased agricultural productivity throughout Zhu Yuanzhang’s territory.
In addition, Chen Biao had spared no expense importing oxen and calves from overseas. After several years of breeding—and since Zhu Yuanzhang’s territory was still relatively small—they were sufficient to meet urgent needs.
The moment Chen Biao learned Zhu Yuanzhang intended to capture Yangzhou, he ordered the Chen family’s craftsmen to temporarily abandon all other work and forge farming tools day and night. Now, the first batch of tools and the assembled draft cattle had finally arrived.
With iron farming tools and oxen available, even the elderly, women, and children could cultivate the fields. The smiles on the faces of the Yangzhou people—most of whom had once been refugees—grew even brighter.
Their loyalty toward Zhu Yuanzhang also deepened.
Marshal Zhu is a good man. Not only has he given us land, he’s even helping us plow and farm it. Unlike the military lords elsewhere, who only come to collect taxes and seize grain.
Many of the refugees who had only recently become Yangzhou residents had already begun setting up longevity tablets to pray for Marshal Zhu.
The moment Zhu Wenzheng saw the densely packed pages of writing, he pressed a hand to his forehead, rubbed his temples, and felt dizzy.
Li Wenzhong, however, held Chen Biao’s proposal with glowing enthusiasm. Even the dark circles beneath his eyes seemed to lighten.
He had always been especially interested in infrastructure and planning. Since he had never found anyone to teach him—and Zhu Yuanzhang’s forces lacked experts in this field—he had been forced to study from books on his own.
“Biao! You even know all this?!” Li Wenzhong exclaimed regretfully. “If I’d known, I would’ve asked you for guidance ages ago!”
Chen Biao lazily raised an eyebrow.
“What don’t I know? Stop marveling and hurry up and read. Cousin! Brother Zheng! General Zhu Wenzheng! No slacking!”
Dropping the hand covering his forehead, Zhu Wenzheng smiled wryly.
“I’m reading, I’m reading… Ah, Biao, couldn’t you write bigger characters? Reading this makes my head spin.”
Chen Biao puffed out his cheeks in annoyance.
How old are you? Do you already have presbyopia? You’re complaining the writing’s too small? Should I make you a magnifying glass?
Can my cousin’s terrible habit of getting dizzy whenever he reads anything besides military manuals ever be cured?
For the sake of earning merit—and to avoid being outdone by Li Wenzhong—Zhu Wenzheng grit his teeth and endured the dizziness until he finished reading the proposal. Then he collapsed back into his chair with a long sigh, his entire body going limp.
Chen Biao was so exasperated that he pinched the back of Zhu Wenzheng’s hand until it turned purple.
So disappointing!
Even after being pinched, Zhu Wenzheng didn’t utter a sound. It was as though the words in the proposal had drained every ounce of life from him, leaving him with nothing but his final breath.
Suppressing a laugh, Li Wenzhong lifted Chen Biao into his own lap.
“Let him recover for a bit.”
“Weren’t you trampled?” Chen Biao asked worriedly. “Won’t it hurt if I sit on you?”
Li Wenzhong smiled.
“You’re so soft and squishy, Biao. How could you possibly hurt me?”
Chen Biao wasn’t sure whether to thank him or pinch the back of Li Wenzhong’s hand until it bruised too.
My cousin definitely didn’t mean to call me a chubby little kid. Definitely not!
Chen Biao looked gloomily at his own little lotus-root arms.
Actually, he wasn’t fat. Even the doctors said his weight and build were just right—he was simply a sturdy, lucky-looking child. He was still too young to grow into his frame, so he was covered in baby fat.
Yes. That had to be it.
Once he hit his growth spurt, he’d definitely become a handsome young gentleman.
After all, his father always claimed he’d been the most handsome young man for miles around in his youth, while his mother had been a great beauty.
Li Wenzhong looked at him curiously.
“Biao, what are you doing? Why do you keep pinching your own arm?”
Stopping his abuse of his baby-fat lotus-root arm, Chen Biao asked, “Cousin, do you have any questions?”
Li Wenzhong nodded vigorously.
“Yes! Lots of them! I understand renovating houses inside the city so that people living outside the city and wealthy merchants from elsewhere can buy them with grain. But why renovate houses outside the city as well? And why make them all uniform?”
Chen Biao explained, “It’s preparation for a new household registration system. Father and I have discussed it. There’s plenty of land now, but once the population recovers, there definitely won’t be enough to distribute. So land allocation has to be tied to household registration.”
“Those who buy houses inside the city will become urban residents. Urban residents won’t receive land allocations—they’ll only be able to lease land.”
“Rural residents can convert to urban status whenever they wish, but in principle, urban residents won’t be allowed to change back.”
Li Wenzhong’s eyes widened.
“Once you move into the city, you can’t own land anymore?!”
Chen Biao corrected him.
“People who hold urban household registration and can purchase homes in the city can’t own land. But urban registration also has advantages, such as education. Those details can be improved gradually later.”
“If agriculture, commerce, and industry are all valued equally, farming won’t be the only path in life. In the future, many people will naturally flock to prosperous cities, and farmland will end up abandoned. But we also can’t prevent population movement, because that would turn the nation’s economy into stagnant water…”
He shook his head.
“Never mind. We’ll talk about that later.”
Seeing Li Wenzhong’s eyes beginning to spin as well, Chen Biao helplessly stopped talking.
He suddenly missed his father.
Although Zhu Yuanzhang didn’t understand any of this either, whenever he heard something he didn’t understand, he’d simply ask questions. Unlike these two foolish older brothers, who would start looking dizzy the moment they heard too many unfamiliar concepts.
The difference in people’s talents really was enormous.
With a sigh, Chen Biao closed that line of discussion and began explaining the benefits of helping villagers build houses.
The first benefit was winning the people’s hearts.
The second was giving the former Qing soldiers undergoing labor reform, along with the energetic garrison troops who otherwise had nothing to do, useful work and extra grain and pay, preventing them from becoming idle and causing trouble.
The third was that during the house-building process, another population census could be conducted, recording those too young to qualify for land distribution, making future administration much easier.
People only cooperated enthusiastically when they benefited from doing so.
By accurately registering rural households during every land distribution and construction project, much of the work would already be finished when the Great Ming was established and rural and urban household registrations were officially separated.
Besides these, there were other advantages as well—for example, teaching the people to make use of the newly built houses to assist Zhu Yuanzhang’s army should war once again break out in Yangzhou—but there was no need to list them all.
Unable to resist himself, Li Wenzhong vigorously ruffled Chen Biao’s hair.
His head shook back and forth from all the rubbing.
“Cousin, what are you doing?” Chen Biao complained impatiently, swatting him.
Still rubbing his head, Li Wenzhong laughed.
“Now I finally understand why Uncle loves rubbing your head so much. Biao, how is your brain built? Other people think three steps ahead. When you take one step, are you already planning three years into the future?”
Chen Biao made a joke only another transmigrator would understand.
“Not three years. Five years. A Five-Year Plan. Get it?”
Having recovered, Zhu Wenzheng snatched Chen Biao back into his own arms and also began rubbing his head.
“I don’t get it! I can barely predict where the enemy will move a day or two in advance, and that’s already impressive. You can see five years ahead. Are you even human? Hurry and let your big brother absorb some of your brains!”
Chen Biao snapped, “What are you, a zombie? Planning to eat my brain? Stop fooling around! Keep reading! Once you understand this, I’ve got something else.”
Zhu Wenzheng wailed.
“What?! There’s more?! Biao! Little Biao! Aren’t you arranging way too many things? Do you really expect us to finish several years’ worth of work in just a few months?”
Chen Biao explained, “Not finish several years’ worth of work in a few months—lay the foundations for several years’ worth of work in a few months.”
“Marshal Zhu is destined to become Emperor one day. Yangzhou will be part of his realm and needs to be governed for hundreds of years. If we lay the foundation well now, the people of Yangzhou can enjoy several extra decades of good lives.”
Pulling a miserable face, Zhu Wenzheng sighed.
“Fine. Everything you say is right. I’m starting to regret staying behind. I should’ve switched places with A Ying and let him defend Yangzhou while I went off to fight.”
Chen Biao rolled his eyes dramatically.
What exactly is wrong with this cousin of mine? He doesn’t want the safe job of building infrastructure in Yangzhou and insists on riding into battle to get himself wounded. Even if he doesn’t die, doesn’t it hurt?
Li Wenzhong said, “Stop complaining. Don’t waste Biao’s time. He wrote all this for us—he must be exhausted. He should get to bed early.”
Zhu Wenzheng nodded dejectedly.
“All right. Biao, what else have you planned?”
Chen Biao replied, “Turn the page. Why do I have to explain everything?”
The two foolish older brothers quickly flipped to the next page of Chen Biao’s report.
The moment they did, both of them stared with wide eyes.
It was a report submitted by Song Lian and Ye Zheng concerning the most urgent request from the people.
The women who had received land had chosen an elderly woman as their representative to petition Zhu’s army to help them find husbands and arrange marriages for them as quickly as possible—the sooner, the better.
Both young men were already adults but still unmarried. Their faces immediately flushed red.
Li Wenzhong stammered, “Th-this request… is it really the most urgent thing the women of Yangzhou want? Th-that’s a little…”
With one arm around Chen Biao and the other stroking his chin, Zhu Wenzheng said with a rather indecent grin, “What do the sages say? Once you’re well-fed and warmly clothed, you start thinking about… that.”
“If this wasn’t written by a bunch of men so desperate for women that they pretended to speak for them, then these women…” He chuckled. “They’re awfully thirsty.”
Li Wenzhong’s face darkened.
“Zhu Wenzheng! Shut up! Don’t talk nonsense in front of Biao!”
Knowing he’d misspoken, Zhu Wenzheng still stubbornly retorted, “I didn’t say anything! You’re the dirty-minded one! Biao, don’t listen to his nonsense…”
He suddenly froze.
“Eh? Biao… what’s with that look? Are you angry? I was wrong! I shouldn’t have talked nonsense! I’ll slap myself!”
Chen Biao’s indifferent expression remained as he asked calmly,
“Have either of you truly lived through hardship?”
Zhu Wenzheng slapped himself twice across the mouth.
“Biao… why are you asking that?”
“If either of you had truly worked the fields before,” Chen Biao replied, “you wouldn’t have asked such a question.”
Li Wenzhong and Zhu Wenzheng exchanged a glance.
Chen Biao continued, “Then again, you were both still young when you suffered hardship, and you spent those years wandering from place to place. You probably never really saw what rural life was like.”
“It’s not your fault for not knowing. But now you’re officials responsible for governing a region. Don’t say things like that again in the future. People will laugh at you.”
Whenever Chen Biao spoke in that unusually calm and detached tone, Li Wenzhong and Zhu Wenzheng felt as though they were facing Zhu Yuanzhang himself. For no reason they could explain, they found themselves intimidated.
The two of them shrank their necks.
Although they still didn’t quite understand, they obediently admitted their mistake and asked Chen Biao to explain the real reason behind the women’s urgent request.
Not knowing wasn’t a crime.
Chen Biao wasn’t angry, nor did he intend to blame them.
But if even his own two elder brothers, who had once endured the hardships of a chaotic age, thought this way, then those lofty scholars and powerful gentry—who possessed the greatest authority over public opinion—would probably think the same, or even worse.
“Most women are naturally weaker than men. A farming task a man can finish in a day may take a woman two or three days. That’s actually not such a big problem. Farming isn’t so urgent that one or two days matter. If they work hard enough, they can still cultivate their own land.”
“But there are always some things women simply can’t do.”
“For example, repairing houses, pushing heavy millstones—jobs that require nothing but brute strength.”
“Or…”
“There are situations where people have to fight.”
Chen Biao’s thoughts drifted back to his previous life, and his eyes dimmed for a brief moment.
When he had started his business during university, many of the products he dealt with were agricultural goods, so he often visited villages to negotiate with farmers.
Although he had been born the son of a wealthy merchant, he understood rural life far better than most people his age.
In this lifetime, Chen Biao had listened to Li Zhen’s endless nagging and had learned a great deal about what rural life in this chaotic era was really like.
Simply put, villages were places beyond the reach of the law.
Even in modern society, under the rule of law, when disputes arose over irrigation water, property boundaries, or trivial neighborhood conflicts, families with more strong adult men generally had the louder voice in the village.
In ancient times, this “lawless” nature of villages was even more pronounced.
If a household had no adult men, it was very easy for the women living there to become victims of burglary or even worse crimes. In most cases, the culprit would never be found—and even if they were, nothing would come of it.
Some local ruffians wouldn’t even “kill the goose that laid the golden eggs.” Instead, they would extort and abuse the women over a long period of time. To survive, the women could only endure it.
In the feudal era, never expect the government to handle affairs in the countryside.
Things were manageable if a family still had fathers or brothers.
But in this age of chaos, how many families were still whole?
Any man who was even slightly strong would be forcibly conscripted into the army. When bandits massacred villages, they always killed the able-bodied men first to eliminate future threats.
That was why most of the women who had received farmland in Yangzhou were either living alone or only with elderly relatives and children. There was no one to protect them. They needed someone to perform heavy labor and someone to safeguard both their property and their personal safety.
After times of turmoil, even women whose fathers and brothers were still alive would actively marry young men from the same village. That way, they could divide the work and farm more efficiently. During peaceful years when there was little farm work, one person could tend the fields while the other went into town to earn additional income.
Throughout history, unmarried women were generally found only among non-rural populations and only when they enjoyed relatively good economic conditions.
Those orphaned widows recorded in the historical records survived either because their clans supported them or because they moved into cities to work in textile production. That was why clan power in the countryside had always been so formidable.
But the people of Yangzhou were all refugees. No powerful clans had yet formed that could shelter women.
The self-combed women of later generations only appeared after the rise of the commodity economy, first emerging among female textile workers in the cities.
In the modern era, safety problems could be reported to the police, while heavy labor could be solved by opening an app and hiring someone with a tap. Even rural women had options. Wealthier households relied on machinery, while poorer women who didn’t wish to marry could simply pack a bag and travel north, south, east, or west to find work.
But in this era, for rural women without a family to depend on, refusing to marry meant an endless hell awaited them.
So after receiving land, the thing they wanted most urgently was to find a husband as quickly as possible.
Chen Biao explained everything in meticulous detail.
Both Zhu Wenzheng and Li Wenzhong understood.
Zhu Wenzheng thought of his own mother.
She had only managed to survive because she sought refuge with her natal family.
Li Wenzhong’s mother had died long ago, so he didn’t fully understand these matters. Curious, he asked, “While marching with the army, I’ve heard that in some villages, certain unmarried women wield considerable influence. Why is that?”
Chen Biao’s eyebrow twitched.
“Young unmarried women?”
Li Wenzhong nodded.
“Yes. No children either. Usually childless widows.”
Chen Biao was speechless.
“Cousin… are you really that innocent? Or are you pretending not to know?”
Li Wenzhong looked confused.
“What?”
Zhu Wenzheng sighed.
“…Wenzhong, the widows you’re talking about are usually the village prostitutes. They’ve had affairs with many of the men in the village, so naturally they carry influence.”
Li Wenzhong: “!!!”
He hurriedly reached out, intending to cover Chen Biao’s ears.
But Chen Biao continued.
“If there is no clan to rely on, and for various reasons…” He let out a cold laugh. “In this era, the reasons are probably rooted in Neo-Confucian ideals. A widow forbidden from remarrying who wishes to survive in the village has no choice but to sell her body.”
Before the Southern Song Dynasty, widows remarried quite easily.
Widows who had already borne children were especially sought after.
After Neo-Confucianism became dominant, however, widows who remarried were considered “impure.” Later, people even fabricated superstitions claiming widows brought misfortune. Once widowed, it became extremely difficult for a woman to find another suitable husband.
Even if a village widow wished to preserve her chastity, preferring to starve to death rather than accept another man’s help, unless she killed herself, how could she possibly defend herself against the abuses of the villagers?
Either die, or abandon your dignity.
The choice was obvious.
“‘Only when the granaries are full do people know propriety; only when they have enough food and clothing do they understand honor and shame.’ When someone can’t even piece together a complete outfit before leaving the house, and their grain jar doesn’t even contain enough bran to fill their stomach…” Chen Biao paused. “…what’s the point of talking to them about dignity, honor, or shame?”
“It’s not just village widows. Among the refugees, which woman hasn’t passed through the hands of several men along the road?”
“Before people like us—who have enough to eat and clothes to wear—help them escape starvation and freezing to death, none of us has any right to condemn them.”
“Whether man or woman, while they’re still struggling merely to survive, they are no longer truly living as human beings.”
“When you govern the people, don’t associate these common folk with ideals, dignity, honor, shame, or propriety. The condescending gestures that scholars imagine will win over peasants can never compare to a single handful of millet.”
“If you truly want to accomplish something, then think about only one question.”
“How can you keep them alive?”
“That alone is enough.”
Chen Biao understood things too clearly.
So clearly that even he sometimes found it difficult to stay motivated.
Why was Zhu Yuanzhang beloved by the poor?
Was it because he elevated their social status?
No.
Those people simply didn’t have such concepts in their minds.
They were grateful to Zhu Yuanzhang because he had given them a way to survive.
Those women who became wildly excited merely upon hearing Lady Xiuying’s name certainly weren’t thinking about “women’s rights,” either.
Whether it was freeing women from bound feet, granting women land, or helping them find suitable husbands, all of it was about giving impoverished women a chance to survive.
That was why Lady Xiuying had become their idol.
Their Bodhisattva.
The two female generals serving under Zhu Yuanzhang, the female scholars under Lady Xiuying, and the women in the households of the generals…
Perhaps some of them had already begun to think about such issues.
Only people who had enough to eat and who had received an education had the luxury to ponder these questions.
Such people would seek their own paths and strive to realize their own ideals.
The Heavenly Book had been prepared precisely for people like them.
They were not the people Chen Biao intended to help right now.
The pride that belonged to him as a transmigrator stirred ever so slightly.
For the first time beyond his own family, he wanted to do something—just a little—for complete strangers.
All he wanted was to turn those common people, who could scarcely be called human in this era, back into human beings.
He had no grand ideals.
No lofty ambitions.
Chen Biao hadn’t wanted to bring up such heavy topics.
There were already too many painful realities in this age of chaos.
If he dwelled on them all day, he’d never be happy.
But Zhu Wenzheng and Li Wenzhong were the generals responsible for defending an entire city, the temporary governors of Yangzhou.
The fact that they didn’t even understand such a basic truth left Chen Biao rather helpless, so he had no choice but to explain.
Looking at his two older brothers, who had gone completely blank with shock, Chen Biao scratched his head repeatedly.
Seriously?
Hadn’t these two wandered through the chaos of war before finally finding the Chen family and living good lives?
They’d also followed Zhu Yuanzhang across countless battlefields. They should have seen more than enough human tragedies. Setting everything else aside, Yangzhou’s own suffering was unmatched even in this chaotic age.
So why were they so shocked? It was as though their entire worldview had collapsed and been rebuilt.
Don’t tell me they’d witnessed all those tragedies, forgotten them afterward, and only now, after I pointed it out, had begun to think about what those tragedies represented on a broader scale?
These two idiots have full stomachs every day. If they’re not thinking about things like this after eating their fill, what exactly are they thinking about?
Looks like they still haven’t read enough books. I’ll have to assign them more homework.
Chen Biao lightly tapped the table.
The sound wasn’t loud, but Zhu Wenzheng and Li Wenzhong both came back to their senses.
“Did you understand?”
The two nodded vigorously.
“Good. Then hurry and deal with the real work.”
“First, count how many unmarried soldiers are stationed here.”
“Then screen them. Exclude anyone who drinks excessively, gambles, or frequently visits prostitutes. Prioritize those with gentle tempers who treat others well.”
“We’re going to host a matchmaking gathering…”
He thought for a moment.
“…a Yue Lao Festival.”
“You two will be in charge.”
The two men froze.
“Us?!”
After another moment’s thought, Chen Biao shook his head.
“Never mind. Neither of you is married, so you’re not really suitable.”
“Go ask Master Song and Master Ye instead.”
“If they object, use everything I just told you to persuade them.”
Then Chen Biao asked, “Do I need to explain it all again?”
At first, Zhu Wenzheng and Li Wenzhong shook their heads.
Instinctively, they didn’t want to hear those heavy words again.
But in the end, they nodded anyway.
They asked Chen Biao to patiently explain everything once more.
And to repeat once again—
Never condemn another person until you have experienced what they have endured.
…
The two young generals, Zhu Wenzheng and Li Wenzhong, who had not read many books, managed to persuade the two great scholars, Ye Zheng and Song Lian.
As they listened to the two generals’ explanation, both scholars’ hands trembled faintly.
Song Lian repeatedly asked, “Is village life really like this?”
He had long been recognized as a scholar born into poverty.
Yet only now did he realize that his own upbringing could hardly be considered poor at all.
He turned toward Ye Zheng.
The Ye family was one of the great clans of Shuixin Village. Since Ye Zheng had actually grown up in a village, he had likely seen much more than Song Lian had.
Ye Zheng remained silent for a long time before finally nodding.
Song Lian also fell silent.
After a long while, he sighed.
“My knowledge is still too shallow.”
Ye Zheng replied, “By serving under the Marshal, we have every opportunity to witness how those at the very bottom of society truly live.”
Marshal Zhu…
He genuinely cared about the lowest of the common people.
But neither of them knew what such compassion would ultimately bring him.
The common people were nothing more than loose sand.
Even if they knew who treated them well, they lacked the strength to support those who helped them.
Throughout history, it had always been powerful officials, capable generals, influential gentry, and mighty local clans that determined who would seize the empire.
Could Marshal Zhu truly rely on the Mandate of Heaven to oppose the tide that had governed the world for centuries?
While they were in Yangzhou, Song Lian and Ye Zheng had written countless letters to relatives and friends, telling them that Zhu Yuanzhang genuinely cared for the people and urging them to join his cause.
Yet every letter had vanished without a trace.
Not a single reply came back.
Marshal Zhu truly treated the common people well.
But he did not treat the gentry, powerful families, and scholars well enough.
Exactly as they had thought before—
In the eyes of most people, such a lord was destined to become a tyrant.
Even if he achieved great accomplishments, history would still be filled with criticism and slander directed toward him.
Talented people cherished their reputations.
Unless driven into a corner with no other choice, they would never willingly seek refuge under Zhu Yuanzhang.
Both Song Lian and Ye Zheng felt utterly powerless.
They constantly worried about one thing.
How long could Zhu Yuanzhang withstand such pressure before finally yielding to the prevailing tide of history?
If Zhu Yuanzhang ever compromised…
Then the future of the divine child, Biao’er, would become uncertain.
Ye Zheng said, “After all, Jinglian still bears the title of a disciple of the Zhu School. I’ll handle this matter.”
“Our School of Practical Learning has always cared only about results, regardless of the methods. This sort of thing won’t damage my reputation.”
After all, among the followers of Cheng-Zhu Neo-Confucianism, the School of Practical Learning had never enjoyed much of a reputation anyway.
Song Lian said, “No, I…”
Ye Zheng interrupted him.
“Jinglian, don’t argue with your elder brother this time.”
“Your status as a disciple of the Zhu School is extremely important.”
“If, in the future, other scholars of Cheng-Zhu Neo-Confucianism who truly care about the nation decide to join the Marshal instead, your identity will provide them with the step they need to change their beliefs.”
Song Lian frowned, cupped his hands, and answered,
“Understood.”
Neither Zhu Wenzheng nor Li Wenzhong understood the deeper meaning behind the scholars’ conversation.
Scholars never spoke plainly.
Every sentence hid another meaning.
It was exhausting.
Still, as long as Master Ye had agreed to take responsibility for the matter, they could report back to Chen Biao.
As they left, Li Wenzhong noticed Zhu Wenzheng looking unusually downcast.
“What’s wrong with you?” he asked. “Were Biao’s words really that much of a blow? That’s not like you.”
Zhu Wenzheng glanced at him without answering.
“I’m going back to rest.”
“Don’t come looking for me today.”
“If anything needs doing, handle it for me.”
“Fine, fine,” Li Wenzhong replied.
Watching Zhu Wenzheng leave, he sighed and headed toward Chen Biao instead.
Whenever he couldn’t figure something out, he’d ask Biao.
Biao would surely know why Zhu Wenzheng had suddenly become so depressed.
Chen Biao was discussing the details of the labor-reform merit point system for the former Qing soldiers with Li Zhen.
After hearing Li Wenzhong’s question, Chen Biao had yet to speak when Li Zhen sternly interrupted.
“Wenzhong, never bring this matter up again.”
The more Li Zhen forbade him from asking, the more Li Wenzhong wanted to know.
“Why?”
Li Zhen suddenly had the urge to smack this son of his, who for some inexplicable reason had become more and more like Zhu Wenzheng.
My son wasn’t like this before!
I must tell Guorui to stop letting Wenzhong work with Wenzheng all the time!
Chen Biao lowered his eyes, shadows gathering beneath them.
“Perhaps… because he and Aunt Wang were once refugees.”
After Zhu Wenzheng’s father had starved to death, his mother, Madam Wang, had taken him back to her parents’ home to survive.
Soon afterward, however, famine struck, and even her natal family could no longer support them.
Madam Wang and Zhu Wenzheng wandered as refugees for a time before eventually finding Zhu Yuanzhang.
In Chen Biao’s version of events, Madam Wang had eventually found Chen Guorui, entrusted Zhu Wenzheng to him, and then left. The details were different, but the outcome was much the same.
When they were both on the verge of starving to death…
Why hadn’t Madam Wang stayed with her son?
After leaving Chen Guorui’s household, where else could she possibly have gone?
Madam Wang herself had said that she had finally fulfilled her late husband’s dying wish and could now remarry.
But in such a chaotic world…
Could remarrying possibly give her a better life than staying with her son?
Only then did Li Wenzhong finally understand why Zhu Wenzheng’s mood had suddenly collapsed.
Perhaps…
He had finally realized why his mother had left him after entrusting him to Zhu Yuanzhang.
Li Wenzhong murmured softly,
“Didn’t Wenzheng ever go looking for his mother?”
Li Zhen replied, “Back then, Guorui wanted Madam Wang to stay, but she insisted on returning.”
“So Guorui gave her some silver and grain, sent soldiers to escort her back to her family, and continued supporting her afterward.”
“But she still died of illness not long afterward.”
“She had suffered too much while living as a refugee.”
Li Wenzhong’s mind went blank.
Zhu Wenzheng had always seemed carefree and thoughtless.
He had never imagined that Zhu Wenzheng had been carrying this burden in his heart all along.
“AHHHHH!!”
After returning to his own courtyard, Zhu Wenzheng drew his saber and hacked wildly at the courtyard walls.
He had always known that his mother had suffered greatly for his sake.
But only after hearing Chen Biao’s words today did those hardships become concrete.
Specific.
Real.
Things that others would call disgraceful.
Immoral.
But why should they be considered disgraceful?
Why immoral?
His mother had only been trying to keep him alive.
Was that why she had left him?
Because she feared others would point fingers at him?
He didn’t care.
He truly didn’t care!
The wooden hairpin holding up Zhu Wenzheng’s hair fell to the ground.
His hair hung loose.
His bloodshot eyes were filled with madness.
His howls echoed through the courtyard like those of a wounded beast, refusing to stop.
Li Wenzhong stood silently outside the courtyard gate for a long time.
Then he turned and left.
His fists were clenched so tightly that crescent-shaped blood marks had formed where his nails dug into his palms.
…
Li Wenzhong visited soldier after soldier throughout the army, compiling a thick register while patiently interviewing each man one by one.
After spending an entire day venting his emotions, Zhu Wenzheng temporarily put aside the actor recruitment and joined Li Wenzhong in making the rounds the following day.
After that day’s emotional outburst, Zhu Wenzheng seemed noticeably more mature.
The arrogant grin that had so often adorned his face had faded considerably.
With his face set in a stern expression, he even bore a faint resemblance to Zhu Yuanzhang.
The two of them still had limited energy.
Once they became familiar with the work, they selected several older, trustworthy officers from the army to help them.
“These women have already suffered enough. If our Red Turban Army introduces them to bad husbands, wouldn’t we be ruining Lady Xiuying’s reputation?”
Using their adoptive mother’s name, they made sure none of the officers dared take the task lightly.
If they damaged Zhu Yuanzhang’s reputation, they might still have a chance to redeem themselves.
But if they damaged Lady Xiuying’s reputation…
Forget whatever punishment Zhu Yuanzhang might devise.
The orphans Lady Xiuying had personally raised—many of whom had already become generals in the army—would skin them alive.
Thanks to Li Wenzhong’s and Zhu Wenzheng’s efforts, the soldiers’ register was completed in short order.
As a scholar, Ye Zheng simply couldn’t figure out how to arrange meetings between soldiers and village women.
In the end, Chen Biao came up with the idea.
Food came first for the people.
So they might as well eat and drink together.
He would provide all the food.
Then they could invite a few opera troupes to perform plays from Yingtian, selecting lively romantic stories to create the perfect atmosphere for the Yue Lao Festival.
Ye Zheng lifted Chen Biao high into the air and laughed happily beneath the sunlight, examining him as though admiring a priceless treasure.
Chen Biao was utterly speechless.
He really couldn’t understand why all his elders had developed a habit of lifting him into the air.
What was the point?
Ye Zheng smiled.
“Biao’er, you’re simply too clever.”
Chen Biao defended himself.
“I just like eating.”
Suppressing a laugh, Ye Zheng set the kicking Chen Biao back on the ground.
Just as he was about to continue praising him, a commotion suddenly erupted nearby.
Frowning, he asked,
“What happened?”
How could someone be causing trouble at the Yue Lao Festival?
Someone hurried over in a panic.
“General Zhu and General Lan have started fighting!”
Chen Biao blinked.
“General Zhu? My cousin? Which General Lan?”
Ye Zheng sighed.
“Lan Yu.”
Chen Biao stared.
“Huh? Why is Lan Yu here? Didn’t he leave with Marshal Chang Yuchun?”
Ye Zheng rubbed his forehead.
“Marshal Chang Yuchun dumped Lan Yu on me as my disciple.”
Chen Biao: “…”
Master Ye is so pitiful.
Although Li Shanchang had told him that the beating Lan Yu received in Yingtian had been the first time he had bullied innocent people—and that he’d actually been set up—perhaps, under Chang Yuchun’s strict supervision, Lan Yu’s personality hadn’t completely deteriorated yet.
But Lan Yu was someone Zhu Yuanzhang would eventually execute.
And tens of thousands of people would be implicated.
As Lan Yu’s teacher…
Well…
Even if Master Ye wasn’t alive by then…
His family…
Chen Biao silently observed a moment of mourning.