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

“Go.” Zhu Han sat down. “Go along the north branch, close to the west bank, but don’t go near the lamp.”

The wooden boat cut through the dark water, and occasionally an official boat patrolled the river, its lights sweeping across the water in clusters. Gu Qingping whispered, "Your Highness, the copper coins with the character '徽'..."

"They've shown us the way." Zhu Han's gaze remained unchanged. "If the river warehouse catches fire, who will benefit?"

"The warehouse manager is losing power and a change of leadership is imminent; whoever takes the helm will be the one who secures the position."

She paused, then continued, "If the fire starts from the west, the salt packets will burn first. When the salt smoke rises, others will think it's just dampness and won't notice."

Zhu Han nodded slightly: "You see it faster than I do."

She smiled faintly: "Your Highness has the 'Old Official Token,' but I do not. I can only think a few steps ahead."

The wooden boat is located on the shady side of the river warehouse, and the huge warehouse walls resemble a crouching beast.

Tiny sparks were crawling along the base of the wall, like ants clustered together.

Gu Qingping held her breath: "Get up."

Zhu Han lowered his voice: "Yin Yan."

A dark figure emerged from the stern in response to the sound. Two men who looked like sailors silently leaped ashore, lifted a black cloth, and revealed a bucket of water and a bag of wet straw.

They quickly extinguished the sparks, and then Yin Yan pulled out a thin iron hook from his waist, reached into the crack in the wall, and pulled out half a strip of oilcloth.

"Soaked in tung oil," Yin Yan handed it over. "Well prepared."

“The problem lies in the timing.” Zhu Han rolled up his sleeve and tucked the oilcloth inside. “The fire won’t go away.”

Gu Qingping looked around, then suddenly lowered her voice: "Lights!"

Not far away, at the other end of the warehouse, a small lamp flickered.

Immediately afterward, a ball of fire was smothered, and the sparks receded. Zhu Han's sleeve twitched: "Don't be alarmed."

The lights went out, and after another cup of tea, low footsteps came from under the eaves. Two dark figures carrying bundles walked along the wall, crouching low.

As they reached the corner, they suddenly stopped, and one of them knocked very lightly on the wooden door twice.

Someone inside responded, and the door opened a crack, a hand reached out, took the package, and pushed back a tattered bamboo basket.

Yin Yan's breath hitched, and Zhu Han raised his hand, signaling "Stop for now."

The two were about to leave when a faint whistle stopped them. They glanced back at the river, and as if urged, quickened their pace and disappeared behind the river willows.

"With?" Yin Yan looked at Zhu Han.

"No rush." ​​Zhu Han bent down and pointed to the door. "Knock on it first."

Yin Yan nodded, straightened the boat, and quickly brought it to the side of the door.

Zhu Han carried a bamboo basket, looking like a fisherman who had come to ask for water at night, and tapped it three times with the back of his hand.

The person inside the door became alert: "Who's there?"

"It's one of us." Zhu Han said in a low voice, pushing the basket rim in an inch.

The door was slightly ajar, about the width of a finger.

Just as the man was about to peek out, a hand firmly pressed down on his wrist, and he was pulled out. Before he could even open his mouth, Yin Yan pressed him to the ground.

Gu Qingping stepped inside, raised her hand to cover the lampshade, and the storage room went dark, leaving only the shimmering water outside.

There were two other people inside the house, both of whom were startled and did not have time to grab their knives.

Zhu Han kicked over the wooden frame, and the scattered hemp paper on the frame slid off, revealing stacks of small wooden plaques, each engraved with the character "Dong".

Gu Qingping picked up one and stroked it with her fingertip: "The 'East' in 'Eastern Palace'?"

“It’s a knock-off,” Zhu Han said calmly. “The Crown Prince’s Palace never makes this model.”

He took the old talisman from his sleeve and placed it next to the wooden plaque. "Who do you think you can scare with old symbols?"

The man on the ground, pinned down and unable to move, shook his head frantically: "Sir... misunderstanding, misunderstanding! We were just setting the fire, we didn't know whose card it was!"

"Who paid for it?" Zhu Han asked.

"...The Huizhou merchants had their money shops in the South Market."

"What's the shopkeeper's name?"

"Qian...Qian Ji".

Gu Qingping looked at Zhu Han, and their eyes met for a moment. They both understood: the hand that had been pulling the strings of the Hu case had reached out again, only on a different stage.

"What's the point of setting a fire?" Zhu Han asked even more slowly. "Which compartment needs to be burned before it's considered a success?"

The man trembled all over, stammered for a long time, and finally squeezed out a sentence: "The salt warehouse is built, the granary is connected; tomorrow morning someone will submit a memorial saying that the Crown Prince sent two shifts of warehouse officials to check the accounts last night... They said that they found 'shortages' and burned the records to escape punishment."

In just a few words, the outline of the case has already emerged—first, ignite the fire, then submit a memorial, linking "fire" and "investigation" together, and putting a black pot on the Crown Prince's head.

Yin Yan sneered: "Who arranged for you to meet with whom to hand over the work?"

“He is…he is the steward of the Ministry of War,” the man said, unable to recall his name, and gestured, “He has a mole on his nose and speaks with a southern accent.”

"That's enough." Zhu Han waved his hand. "Raise your head."

The man looked up with trembling hands and suddenly saw that the eyes opposite him were calm and still, like a deep well.

Just as he was about to beg for mercy, Zhu Han turned aside, making him look at the river outside the door.

In the night breeze, a lamp slowly lit up on the distant water, then one after another, and dark figures emerged along the river branches—all low-ranking soldiers patrolling the river.

"Huh?" Yin Yan chuckled softly. "I'm not here to scare you, I'm here to protect the warehouse."

The man froze, feeling as if all his strength had been drained away.

"Take one away, release two."

Zhu Han stood up, patted his sleeves, and said, "The one who was taken away, the other two are to get out of Jinling tonight and are not allowed to look back."

Gu Qingping lowered the light: "Why put two?"

"They need to go and 'report the news'."

Zhu Han's voice wasn't loud, "Let those who need to know know that their fire wasn't lit, the wooden sign with the character 'East' didn't work, and the person who lit the fire was seen."

Yin Yan understood and waved.

The two stumbled out the door, frequently looking back as they fled, as if being urged on by the black water behind them.

The one who remained was quickly gagged and put on a small boat.

When the boat reached the middle of the river, Zhu Han took out the old talisman and handed it to Gu Qingping: "This is an old talisman used by the Treasury Department, which has long been obsolete. Tomorrow, go to the Internal Affairs Department and find an explanation: the old talisman has fallen into the hands of the people and must be retrieved immediately. Issue a small order from the Internal Affairs Department to the Salt Tax Department and the Granary Department."

"What size do you want?" she asked.

"The Director of the Imperial Household Department only needs to sign the document; there's no need to go through the outer court. Once this order is issued, anyone who still has an old seal will either hand it over immediately if they're not guilty, or burn it if they are. We'll just see who 'burns' it and who 'hands it over'."

He paused, then said, "Find the most reliable eunuch and have him prepare tea. Tomorrow at noon, invite that steward from the Ministry of War with the mole on his nose to have some."

Gu Qingping nodded: "Tea is fine, what would you like to drink?"

Zhu Han smiled and said, "You choose."

The next day, the Crown Prince rose as usual.

Zhu Biao, dressed in neat attire, went out to give a speech.

Along the way, they encountered several young lecturers, exchanged greetings, and someone whispered that the wind had been strong the night before, with three times the usual number of patrol boats on the river. After noon, the Ministry of Internal Affairs issued a small order: all treasury tokens from the previous year that were in the hands of the people must be returned by the end of the day; failure to do so would be considered as harboring official property.

The order was not large, but its issuance was carried out with extreme caution, neither alarming the outer court nor making a fuss about it.

At the same time, in a small study in the backyard of the Ministry of War, the charcoal stove was burning warmly.

Gu Qingping was not dressed in fancy clothes, but in a plain shirt. She personally prepared three cups of tea. The tea soup was clear, with a light layer of white foam on the surface.

A servant at the door led the man inside: "The steward has arrived."

The man was in his forties, with a small mole beside his nose. He bowed as he stepped through the door, saying, "Your Majesty."

"Sit down," Gu Qingping said, gesturing to the chair opposite her. "Have some tea."

He dared not look too long, took a small sip from the cup, and immediately froze, swallowing it back down—the tea was covered with extremely fine salt frost, bitter to the taste, yet he dared not spit it out.

Gu Qingping, seemingly oblivious to his embarrassment, slowly asked, "How well is the river warehouse being defended?"

The man was slightly startled, and his cup clinked loudly: "Why does Your Majesty say such a thing?"

“I asked about ‘guarding’,” she said flatly, “not ‘burning’.”

The room quieted down, with only the gentle crackling of the charcoal stove remaining.

The man, sweat beading on his forehead, forced a smile: "Your Majesty is joking."

"No need for more jokes." She pushed her cup back an inch. "Last night at midnight, there were three strips of oilcloth in the west warehouse. The door of the salt warehouse was ajar, just a finger's width wide. If you still want to tell jokes, I'll offer you another sip."

He dared not touch the cup again, waving his hands repeatedly: "Your Majesty, please understand! This humble...this humble one was merely relaying a message, I truly do not know who intended to start a fire!"

"Whose message are you relaying?" she pressed closer. "Last night, the two of them went to Nanshi to report that 'the fire hasn't started' and that the 'Dongzi brand' was inaccurate. If you hand over the name, this cup of tea can still taste sweet."

The man swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "I...I only saw the manager of the Huizhou merchant's money shop...his surname is Qian...yesterday afternoon he passed a message at the back door saying that someone wanted to borrow the warehouse tonight as a 'warning'...I was confused, and actually...actually..."

“I know someone with the surname Qian,” Gu Qingping said gently. “Say another name.”

His face was ashen, and he muttered, "Lord Jia from the Ministry of War didn't show up. He only sent his trusted subordinate, Zhou Suishi, to make the deal with me... I... he put me on his list first, saying that if things went well, he would transfer me to the capital garrison and give me an official position..."

Gu Qingping stopped pressing him and softened her voice: "I don't want your confession. I want you to go to Nanshi tomorrow and tell that man surnamed Qian, 'The old talisman must be handed over,' and see how he reacts. Then come back and write down every move he makes in a book and put it under this cup of tea."

After she finished speaking, she gently tapped the table.

The man reached out, his hand trembling, and moved the teacup back to its original place. He knelt down and kowtowed, saying, "Your Majesty, spare my life! I will go right away!"

"Go." She turned and gathered her robes. "After you leave, don't look back."

The man retreated, his steps unsteady.

The moment the door closed, the warmth inside seemed to return.

Gu Qingping looked up and saw a faint shadow reflected in the windowpane—Zhu Han.

“Salt frost?” he asked.

"Yes." She smiled faintly, "He dared not breathe too loudly when he was speaking."

"Good idea." Zhu Han walked to the table and tapped the teacup with his fingertip. "If he doesn't go to the South Market tomorrow—"

“Then let’s make an even more bitter tea.” Her eyes were clear. “So bitter that he can remember the way.”

In the evening, Yin Yan reported from the South Market: "Qian Ji urgently summoned four small businesses this afternoon to exchange banknotes, suspected of wanting to 'clean' old talismans. One of his accountants took a brazier and burned two bundles of old talismans in the backyard. The fire was so big that half the street smelled of it."

“Good,” Zhu Han said. “The bigger the fire, the better. Have the wardens ask: ‘Who gave you permission to burn official property?’ Record every word they say, but don’t arrest anyone.”

"Why leave them unattended?" Yin Yan asked, puzzled.

"Arresting someone is easy, figuring out the truth is much harder. Make him think he's still calculating."

Zhu Han paced slowly inside the room with his hands behind his back. "Tomorrow afternoon, two groups of people from the East Market will simultaneously file complaints with the yamen—one group claims that 'the old talisman was burned incorrectly,' and the other group claims that 'the old talisman is fake.' The two groups will inevitably contradict each other. We just need to watch the show from the sidelines."

Gu Qingping asked softly, "What about Jia Cheng?"

"Don't touch him yet," Zhu Han said calmly. "The people he arranged last night are already in disarray. Let them finish speaking themselves. Once they've had enough, send that 'Zhou Suishi' to the tea table in the Ministry of Revenue and let him tell the story to the three people:
One writes, one keeps accounts, and one only remembers faces. Each of them remembers something; when the time comes, whoever wants to change the writing can't change the face; whoever wants to change the face can't change the accounts.

Gu Qingping looked at him, then suddenly smiled and said, "Your Highness—you've put all the people and events into accounts."

"The accounts are easy to keep track of," Zhu Han laughed, "and easy to settle."

As expected, the East Market was in complete chaos the next day.

Someone carried an old talisman frame, burned to charcoal, to the entrance of the yamen and cried out for justice: "We dare not hide official property! Someone told us to 'burn it quickly, burn it quickly,' and now they've come to interrogate us! This is a trap!"

Another person opposite sneered, "That's fake. I can tell at a glance. A fake is considered official property? It deserves punishment!"

The two groups pointed at each other, and the argument grew increasingly heated.

Fang Jun didn't use his hands; he just memorized each name and each loudly uttered word.

As dusk approached in the west, a small black sedan emerged from the back door of the Nanshi Qianhao shop and headed north.

The sedan chair curtains were drawn very low, and only the rapid footsteps of the sedan chair bearers could be heard.

The sedan chair had just rounded a bend when it was blocked by two tea vendors.

The vendors, one on each side, put down their loads with smiles: "Sir, are you thirsty?"

The person inside the sedan chair whispered, "Get out."

The vendors didn't leave. One of them lifted the lid of his carrying pole, and steam rose out: "Salted tea quenches thirst."

The sedan chair was quiet for two breaths, then suddenly the curtain was lifted by one corner.

His exposed face was round and white, with a mole clearly visible beside his nose. The two vendors exchanged a glance, their smiles vanishing, and they bowed in unison: "Zhou Suishi, it's been a long time."

The person inside the sedan chair changed his expression, lowered the curtain, and tried to leave.

The two vendors didn't stop them, but only took half a step back and said in a low voice, "There's someone waiting for you at the tea stall up ahead, don't let him sit there for too long."

The sedan chair paused for a moment, then finally turned around and slowly headed towards the teahouse.

In the shadows of the tea stall, Zhu Han sat at the innermost table, a pot of coarse porcelain tea in front of him, steam rising from it.

He didn't look at the doorway, but simply picked up the pot and poured himself another cup.

When Zhou Suishi entered, he saw him and his leg seemed to trip over him, but he still walked up to him and whispered, "Your Highness."

"Sit down," Zhu Han gestured to the person opposite him. "Have some tea."

"...I'm not thirsty."

"Drink." Zhu Han looked up, his tone calm. "Not much salt."

Zhou Suishi's fingertips trembled slightly, but he finally picked up the cup, took a sip, and frowned at the bitter taste. He put down the cup, his voice even lower: "What does Your Highness wish to ask?"

"I have a question for you," Zhu Han said. "'Who'?"

Zhou Suishi remained silent. Outside the teahouse, the wind blew, and several strings of copper wind chimes tinkled.

He looked up, his gaze somewhat unfocused: "Why must Your Highness make things difficult for a lowly official? A lowly official only follows orders."

"Whom do you listen to?" Zhu Han said without raising his voice or trying to intimidate him. "Say a name, and I'll give you back the character 'Zhou'."

Zhou Suishi looked at him for a long time, then suddenly smiled bitterly: "Your Highness—everyone needs to beg for food."

"The meal is in the East Palace," Zhu Han said. "If you tell me the name, someone will invite you to do a minor job 'clearing accounts' tomorrow. The pay and food will be good, and you won't have to carry a sedan chair. If you don't tell me, the 'salt frost' will be even heavier the day after tomorrow, so bitter that you won't be able to sleep. Three days later, the Zhou name may not be yours, and the Sui Shi name may not be yours." (End of this chapter)