Daming: Brother, there is no future for monks, let's rebel

"Who?" the boy asked.

"He was dressed in black, and his face was covered by a veil. I only recognized his accent—he was from the prefectural city."

Zhu Han turned around and looked at the boundary between the field ridges and the night.

He suddenly spoke up: "No need to wait until tomorrow morning. Let someone else receive the goods."

The boy was taken aback, then realized what he meant, a sharp glint in his eyes: "Your Highness means—we should pretend to deliver it to the Juyi Granary on time?"

"Hmm." Zhu Han nodded. "Only the lining was changed, the seals remain the same. The personnel have been replaced with our own. We'll see who comes to take over, then we'll pull them in again."

He raised his hand and pointed to the two vehicles: "Take out the poison packets at the bottom, destroy them on the spot, and replace them with clean ones from the medicine packets we brought. The seals should be stained with mud according to their method, and then baked."

The boy immediately gave the order, and the constables efficiently divided the tasks. Some carried braziers, some cut hemp ropes, and some carried buckets of water to extinguish the remaining flames.

The wind grew stronger, and the water beneath the bridge sounded icy cold, like a wild beast just awakened.

Half an hour later, everything was ready.

The driver was held behind the carriage, while another constable familiar with the route held the reins and drove towards the southern suburbs at the original speed.

Juyi Granary is located next to an old elm grove in the southern suburbs. The granary door is earth-colored and half-closed, like a sleepy eye.

The car pulled up to the door, knocked three times, and someone inside opened the door a crack, revealing half a face: "The wind was strong tonight, why are you only arriving now?"

The constable lowered his voice: "We were stopped on the road. The goods are on the truck, are you going to check them?"

The man seemed startled by the words "stopped" and immediately waved his hand: "Don't order, pull him in quickly."

Two cars entered the yard, and the gate creaked shut. There were no lights in the yard, only two paper lanterns hanging under the eaves, in which several men in black could be seen flickering.

The leader, wearing a cloak, raised his hand, signaling to drive the car to the back room.

As soon as the car moved, a bronze wind chime suddenly fell from the eaves, making a clanging sound. The leader's eyes lit up immediately: "Stop."

He approached the first car, ran his fingers over the seal, and sniffed lightly with the keen sense of a cat: "The smell is a bit weak."

The constable's palms began to sweat. Just then, a short whistle, like the cry of a night bird, suddenly came from outside the courtyard wall.

The leader suddenly looked up and said coldly, "Ambush!"

Before the words were finished, flames burst forth outside the courtyard wall, and the constables scaled the wall and entered, their scabbards clanging against the bricks.

The leader moved with lightning speed, flipping his sleeves to reveal a short knife, the tip of which aimed straight for the throat of the nearest constable.

Zhu Han slowly walked out from inside the door, flicked his finger, and the bamboo skewer cut through the air, striking the back of the short knife.

The knife veered off course by half an inch, grazing the constable's shoulder and sending sparks flying.

"Gu Shen," Zhu Han said in a flat tone, "you should change locations tonight."

The person under the cloak chuckled: "Your Highness is indeed swift. I thought we'd meet again tomorrow."

“You’ve met him,” Zhu Han said. “Put down your knife.”

Gu Shen did not release it.

The courtyard was in chaos, but he strolled leisurely, using his two subordinates as cover, and slowly retreated towards the side door. A flash of cold light appeared on his short knife, and the wrists of the two constables who rushed at him went numb at the same time.

He stepped out of the threshold, but his foot suddenly stopped—there was a layer of fine sand on the steps that was not visible, and his shoe slipped, causing him to tilt slightly.

That was enough. Zhu Han's second bamboo skewer was already at his fingertips; he no longer aimed at the knife, but at Gu Shen's knee.

As the bamboo skewer pierced his flesh, Gu Shen groaned, his legs went weak, and he lost his balance, only to be firmly held down by two constables on either side.

"Stop!" Zhu Han said in a deep voice.

Sparks flew from the paper lanterns under the eaves when the wind blew.

The brief sounds of fighting gradually subsided, leaving only the sounds of panting and people falling to the ground.

Gu Shen was forced to kneel on the ground, his cloak slipping off his shoulders, revealing the old scar on his nose.

He looked up at Zhu Han, the smile in his eyes vanished, leaving only a cold, hard light.

"Do you think that by capturing me you can cleanse the world of its ills?" he whispered.

"Even if it's not completely clean, we should at least clean a part of it." Zhu Han turned his face away and ordered, "Search the houses, seal the accounts, and arrest the people."

The constables scattered in a swarm, and soon they pried open a hidden box under the floor of the back room. Inside were several small seals, several jars of ink, and several blank account contracts that had not been stamped.

In another crack in the wall, sacks of grass covered with dense pollen were found, their color dirty green and their smell bitter and pungent.

The boy lifted the cloth bundle and frowned: "This is specially used for 'face swapping'."

“Take all of these back,” Zhu Han said. “Leave three men to escort the cart on the way, and the rest will come with me to the herbal medicine village at the foot of the eastern slope.”

"Medicine Village?" The boy was taken aback.

Zhu Han put away the bamboo sticks: "The mixing of Gelsemium elegans with Bupleurum chinense is mostly due to improper harvesting during the harvest season. If the herbalists down the mountain don't recognize it, that's the root of the problem. To find the root cause, we have to go there first."

Gu Shen chuckled, seemingly mocking, "Your Highness wants to teach farmers how to identify weeds? What a feat."

Zhu Han looked at him: "You also started out in the mountains, right?"

Gu Shen's eyes darkened, and he said nothing more.

The wind came down from the mountain pass, carrying the scent of dampness.

The medicine village is located halfway up the mountain. The houses are low and the courtyard walls are made of earthen blocks. In winter, the grass and trees wither and turn yellow, but there are still a few sheds on the hillside for drying herbs.

Before night had completely fallen, several farmers carrying medicinal herbs stood at the village entrance, looking wary.

Upon seeing the officials and torches, everyone's face showed fear.

"Don't be afraid." Zhu Han stepped forward, put down the torch, and gestured for everyone to gather together. "I'm not here to take your goods, nor am I here to punish you. I'm here to teach you how to distinguish between Bupleurum chinense and Gelsemium elegans, so you won't pick the wrong thing."

An elderly herbalist with a gray beard shifted his position, somewhat disbelieving: "You really won't be punished, sir?"

"If you're going to punish someone, why choose to climb the mountain at night?"

Zhu Handao. He reached into the boy's basket and took out several samples: one was a whole Bupleurum chinense plant, one was Gelsemium elegans, and several other similar wild grasses.

He used the back of his knife to split the stem, pointing to the texture and saying, "The stem of Bupleurum is hollow and smooth, while the stem of Gelsemium elegans is densely fibrous, with threads at the break. The leaves are also different; the veins of Bupleurum are straight, while the veins of Gelsemium elegans are fine and disordered, like fish bones. You must carefully distinguish them by smell, the cut, and the color."

He then took out a small amount of dried Buddleja officinalis powder and sprinkled it on the crushed Gelsemium elegans, letting everyone smell it: "This scent can mask bitterness. Some people in the market use it to deceive those who don't know better. If you smell this cool fragrance, don't believe it; just use your eyes to discern it."

The old herbalist reached out and touched the broken piece of the herb; his fingertips were rough, and his eyes were a little red. "So that's how it is. Over the years, merchants have often said we're bad at judging quality, that we can't pick the right herbs, and they've even undervalued us. Sigh—"

"Whether the price is high or low, life comes first."

Zhu Han said, "From now on, whoever comes to collect medicine must inspect it first. If anyone forces you to smuggle goods, report it to the county government; if you shirk your duties, I will not let you off easily."

After the words were spoken, there was a moment of silence, then someone nodded emphatically.

The boy took out paper and pen from his basket, drew a few simple identification diagrams, and distributed them to the herbalists. The sun rose over the hillside, and the thin mist slowly receded from the ridge, revealing a sliver of clear light.

Zhu Han turned to leave when he suddenly heard the old herbalist call out from behind, "Sir! There's one more thing."

He pointed to the other side of the mountain, "In that ravine over there, someone has been going to dig up the soil in our old herb garden lately, saying he's looking for old roots. When we asked him, he wouldn't answer, he just gave us two coins to get rid of us."

"when?"

"Just these two months."

The boy looked at Zhu Han: "Could it be Gu Shen's doing?"

“Let’s go take a look,” Zhu Han said.

The wind was even stronger in the valley, and where the grass had been turned over, damp, dark mud was exposed.

Zhu Han bent down, picked up a small clump of soil with his fingertips, which had a faint fishy smell.

He moved a few steps to the side and saw a shallow pit that had just been dug, with broken pieces of pottery at the bottom and dried brown stains stuck to the edges.

"What is this?" the boy asked in a low voice.

"An old method of hiding goods." Zhu Han picked up a piece, held it to his nose, and smelled it; the bitter taste was pungent.

“They would seal the bad herbs in jars, bury them in the old garden, and then dig them up and mix them with the good herbs when someone came to collect them.”

He straightened up and looked down at the foot of the mountain. "This line probably leads to a larger warehouse outside the city."

The boy's Adam's apple bobbed: "Your Highness, are we going down the mountain again?"

"Let's go down the mountain," Zhu Han said. He looked back at Yaocun Village, paused for a moment,
"Keep the diagrams safe and use them to identify the herbs. Tomorrow I will send someone to teach you how to make a simple herb tester using a sieve and string. Don't be afraid of the officials or the poison."

His words were soft, but they landed on the courtyard walls, the sheds, and in the rough hands of every herb farmer.

The old herbalist cupped his hands, his eyes shining, and said in a rough voice, "Thank you for your instruction, Your Highness."

When they returned to the county government office, it was nearly noon.

Gu Shen was escorted to the main hall, with two ropes binding him. He remained silent, but kept staring at the direction of the hall entrance, as if waiting for someone.

Zhu Han entered the hall, raised his eyelids slightly, and softly uttered two words: "You've arrived."

"Who?" the boy asked alertly.

A commotion broke out at the entrance, and several constables pushed through the crowd, escorting in a middle-aged man in a blue cloth robe.

The man had neatly combed hair, delicate features, and looked like a scholar.

Ah San saw him from the side and was so shocked that he couldn't speak. Lü Baoxing's face changed instantly, and he lowered his head, not daring to look.

"Who is this?" the magistrate asked in a low voice.

“Gu Lu’an, the owner of Yongtong in Fucheng.” Gu Shen smiled and slowly raised the rope on his wrist. “He is the person you are looking for.”

The hall fell silent for a moment. Gu Lu'an looked up, his eyes showing no panic, and simply bowed slightly: "Gentlemen, it's all a misunderstanding."

"A misunderstanding?" Zhu Han walked down the steps and stopped a foot away from him. "Your business involves collecting counterfeit inkpads, dealing in poisonous herbs, and setting up schemes. You call this a misunderstanding?"

Gu Lu'an remained calm and said, "I'm in business. Whether the supply is substandard or not is the responsibility of the person who inspects the goods. Besides, we relieved the local pharmacies of their shortage. I'm just taking what they need, and the market will naturally have its own balance."

"Beyond the marketplace, there are human lives at stake," Zhu Han said.

Gu Lu'an's smile faded further: "If Your Highness wishes to reason, I have my reasons; if you wish to punish someone, I have already prepared my punishment." He turned to look at Gu Shen, "You should run faster."

Gu Shen didn't look at him, but a fleeting sneer flashed in his eyes: "No matter how fast you run, you can't outrun the prince's bamboo sticks."

Zhu Han raised his hand, and the constables understood, taking Gu Lü'an away to be kept in solitary custody. The tension in everyone's hearts was taut, and no one dared to utter a sound first.

"Guards," Zhu Han said slowly, "detain Gu Shen, Gu Luan, Lü Baoxing, and the deputy clerk in four separate locations."

The ledgers, inkpads, seals, and medicine samples were sealed together.

Write a notice: tomorrow afternoon, the medicine will be publicly tested at the drill ground in the east of the city. Inform the people that anyone who has purchased medicine from Tongyuan Store should bring their prescription to exchange it. Also, go to the prefectural city and seal off the warehouses of 'Yongtong' as well.

The magistrate hurriedly agreed, but his heart was pounding: such a major case involved at least several counties, and if it alarmed the prefectural government, it might cause a great uproar.

But when he looked up and saw Zhu Han's back, he suddenly felt that this storm had come at just the right time, and it was just in time.

Zhu Han stood on the steps, his eyelids lowered, as if listening to the winter wind outside the courtyard.

He slowly exhaled and turned to the boy, saying, "Prepare the horses; we'll depart for the prefectural city this afternoon."

"Keep an eye on the drug testing at the drill ground. Take those diagrams with you and teach the people how to identify them."

"Yes, sir." The boy responded, turned and walked away, his steps strangely light, as if the pent-up frustration of a long time had finally found a release.

"Remember all the pain I should feel," he said to himself as he stepped down the last step.

Outside the hall, people were peering out from the street.

The boy rolled up his sleeves and began unpacking and sorting the packets of medicinal herbs.

The crowd gathered in layers, timidly holding up the prescriptions. Some were holding children, others were leading the elderly. The buzzing of conversations drifted in and out of the winter wind.

"Don't push, come in from the right and stand in line."

The boy raised his voice, his eyes no longer timid, but capable, "Check it on the spot. If it's wrong, replace it. If it's right, stamp it and take it back to decoct and drink. Those who have the Tongyuanxing seal in their hands, come over first."

An elderly hunchbacked man took the first step forward, holding a packet of Scutellaria baicalensis in his hands, his lips trembling: "Young sir, my grandson has a terrible cough, I dare not give him this to drink..."

The boy took it, cut off a corner, poured a little into a white porcelain dish, moistened it with water, picked up the two pieces and gently rubbed them together, and the veins of the leaf appeared.

He smelled it: "This is good Scutellaria baicalensis, don't be afraid."

He picked open another packet of "Bupleurum," glanced at it, frowned slightly, and put it into the "suspicious" category. "I'll check this packet later. You can use this one to replace it for now. I won't take any money."

The old man nodded repeatedly, his eyes reddening: "Thank you... thank you."

A young woman carrying a child squeezed through the crowd; the baby's forehead still had a freshly changed handkerchief on it, and his face was flushed red.

The boy bent down and touched the child's forehead, gently wiping it with a cloth dipped in water. He then turned and said, "Your child's poison is probably not the kind of poison that causes heartbreak. It seems to be a case of heat and cold clashing. If the wrong prescription was given, it could also cause 'convulsions'."

He opened the packet of "Bupleurum" in the woman's hand, twirled it between his fingertips, then suddenly brought the porcelain dish to his nose, and looked up at the woman, "Did the shop assistant slip you a small packet of 'pollen' after you bought the medicine, saying that adding it would make it more effective?"

The woman was startled and nodded repeatedly: "Yes... he said it's 'fragrant flower powder,' and if you fry it to make it more fragrant, the child will drink it."

The boy opened the small package, and a faint pink fragrance and a cool sensation wafted into his nose.

He raised his hand so that everyone around him could smell it, and said in a deep voice, "Remember this, it's Buddleja pollen. When others say it's 'more effective,' you have to remember this smell. If you encounter this smell, be careful, nine out of ten times it's used to mask bitterness."

He tossed the "pollen" into a basin, dissolved it in water, and handed a replacement packet of medicine to the woman. "Go back and decoct it according to the prescription, don't add anything. If the child's fever doesn't subside after half an hour, come to the county office to find me." (End of Chapter)