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

—"Check-in: Jiang Kou Gengci. Received: One scroll of 'Horn Music'. Note: Near objects first, far objects second, spacing can be adjusted."

He placed the scroll and the "Boat Sequence Diagram" together, tapped his knuckles on the edge of the paper, and smiled faintly: "The sound of the river is settled."

Gu Qingping watched him from the side: "Your Highness, what's the next step?"

“Next step—” Zhu Han took the silver seal to the lamp, and the sixth rim of the seal shone with a very fine gleam under the lamp. “Go to the alley, polish the ‘empty pattern’ all over, and polish the idle hand. Then go back to Fengyang, peel off all the old mud from the three places on the back of the embankment, and let the wind dry the mud; then go to the palace and let my brother see the ‘lamp’.”

“The lamps are already there,” Yin Yan said.

"Hang the lamp higher." Zhu Han stood up and looked at the moon outside the window. "Hang it so that even people who don't want to look at it have no choice but to."

Five days later, at the Fengtian Hall, Zhu Yuanzhang personally reviewed the script and inspected the "lamp".

A low lamp hung behind the desk in the East Palace, neither too high nor too low. The lamp base was inlaid with a sixth-degree silver nail, ensuring a steady flame and a steady shadow.

On the table lay three scripts, beside which sat a sandbox and a brush.

Zhu Yuanzhang looked at it for a long time, and then simply said, "Good."

He put down his script and turned to look at Zhu Biao: "Do you recognize this lamp?"

“I recognize it,” Zhu Biao replied. “The lamp is low, so the words are visible.”

"Remember this," Zhu Yuanzhang's voice was deep but not cold, "The lamp does not shine on people."

Zhu Biao bent down: "I'll remember."

Zhu Yuanzhang turned to Zhu Han: "Brother Han."

"The minister is here."

"I saw it. If you step back even half a step, I won't bother you. If the dike over at Fengyang is unstable, the granaries will be unsafe. Go."

"As ordered."

Zhu Yuanzhang suddenly laughed: "But—you will eventually come back."

"When the wind turns, I will return," Zhu Han said calmly. "There is no need to summon me."

Zhu Yuanzhang waved his hand: "Get out of here."

Zhu Han cupped his hands in greeting and retreated with a smile.

Stepping out of the palace, the daylight was just right. A fresh breeze swept across the palace walls, as if someone had used an invisible ruler to sort through all the sounds in the city.

Zhu Han turned over and mounted the saddle, holding the reins without moving. He glanced back at the city center—a low lamp hung in the East Palace, its flame not high, yet still visible under the sun.

"Your Highness," Yin Yan said in a low voice, "Go to Fengyang?"

"Let's go," Zhu Han slapped his horse. "We won't be gone long."

Gu Qingping, standing beside her, raised her hand to press down the brim of her hat: "Be careful on your journey."

"Don't worry," Zhu Han smiled, "the winds are blowing smoothly."

The cavalry left the city and headed north again along the old road. The horns behind the city gate sounded from three points—near, medium, and far—intermittently, like an invisible net gently unfolding.

As I exited the north gate of Jinling, the sky was bright and clear. The autumn grass along the road was pressed into lines by the wind, as if someone had drawn lines on the ground with a ruler.

Zhu Han and his party avoided the main road and turned into the old canal branch road, with the embankment on their side and the water flowing along the mud.

Yin Yan rode up beside him and said, “Your Highness, there is a ‘Xianshui Ferry’ in the ford. It collapsed once last year during a heavy rain and was repaired hastily. I have seen the plans, and the repairs were done too hastily.”

“Let’s go there first,” Zhu Han said. “If we’re rushing to repair the dike, our hands will get all messed up. And where we’re messing up, the rope ends are most likely to show.”

Gu Qingping pulled down her hat, her gaze following the top of the embankment: "There is a hidden ditch connecting Xianshui Ferry to the fields behind the embankment. If someone uses the ditch to pass a boat, it will be difficult to detect at night."

"Look at the ditch." Zhu Han gently closed the thin book in his sleeve.

—"Check-in: Old branch of the North Gate. Received: One 'Seepage Measurement Rope'. Note: The rope contains lead and will sink upon contact with seepage."

He handed a roll of thin rope to Yin Yan: "Lower the rope down from the back of the dike and see where it sinks."

"Yes." Yin Yan turned his horse and rode along the embankment, throwing out a rope every three or four zhang to test the water. The first few rope ends floated, but when they reached the bottom of the slope in front of Xianshui Ferry, the rope end suddenly sank, and the line tilted at an angle.

"It's seeping in here." Yin Yan beckoned.

Zhu Han dismounted, used his short cane to part the grass on the embankment, revealing a line of gray sand veins in the mud, the color of which was different from the surrounding area.

Gu Qingping squatted down, pressing her fingertips against the thread: "Sand moves, water flows."

“Turn it up one foot,” Zhu Han said.

The soldiers used short shovels to peel away the topsoil on the back of the dike. Less than a foot away, the soil color changed drastically, and fine water droplets floated up.

Half a foot down, you'll find a hollow, arm-thick section filled with bundles of reeds, sealed with clay.

“It’s not a temporary leak.” Yin Yan said in a deep voice, “Someone has worked on the ‘water eye’ and knows how to ‘guide water with reeds’.”

Zhu Han used a bamboo stick to probe the edge of the reed bundle. The bamboo stick bent as soon as it entered the mud, but the other end was held in place by something.

His fingertips tightened: "A wooden nail was stuffed into the reed."

"Nail?" Gu Qingping stood up. "Nail it inside the reed core, then seal it with mud on the outside—allowing for controlled entry and exit. Who has time to do this?"

“Someone who knows how to build an embankment, or someone who knows how to make a lock.” Zhu Han looked up. “Don’t move from here. Go to the ferry.”

Xianshui Ferry is a small town, deserted during the day. There is a mill by the dock, with an old pipe sticking out of the wall as a sign.

The sound of rice being milled came from the mill, a steady, unhurried rhythm.

The man grinding grain was a thin, dark-skinned old man with calluses around his eyes. Upon seeing the official horse, he calmly rose and bowed, asking, "Sir, are you grinding grain?"

"I need to borrow your millstone," Zhu Han said calmly.

The old man's eyelids twitched: "Borrow the millstone? It's heavy and difficult to move."

"If you can't move it, don't move it," Zhu Han said casually. "Take your 'roller seal'."

The old man was stunned: "No... I don't understand."

Yin Yan closed the mill door and tapped the ground with his toes: "Every year when the dike at Xianshui Ferry is repaired, it's your mill that provides the labor—making stones, bricks, and 'seals.' The seal is a small stone awl used to weigh down the dike, with the character 'Xian' engraved on the bottom to stop the soil from getting in. You made the seal for the dike, but who told you to stuff wooden nails into the reeds?"

The old man's face turned pale, and after a long while, he managed to squeeze out, "Inspector."

"Which one to patrol?" Zhu Han asked.

"He's a night patrolman at the ferry." The old man's throat bobbed. "His surname is Liang, and his given name is Ting."

"Liang Ting," Zhu Han repeated, then turned to the door. "Where's the ferry patrol sign?"

The old man gave a wry smile: "The cards are here, they'll be changed at night." He paused, then said in a low voice, "When the cards are changed, the dock will drop a foot."

"Can we go to the dock?" Yin Yan was taken aback.

“Walk on wooden steps.” The old man pointed to one side of the river. “There are hidden steps under the dock. At night, you pull them down, and during the day, you pull them up. The difference in elevation is about one foot, so the bottom of the boat can touch the bottom of the dike.” He lowered his eyes. “Those reed holes are for draining water when the boat is close to the dike, so it won’t capsize.”

"Who should we drain the water for?" Zhu Han asked.

The old man remained silent for a long time before uttering two words: "Xiaowan".

Gu Qingping looked into the distance—two miles downstream from Xianshui Ferry, the shoreline curled inward, revealing a small bay. Willows and reeds grew densely at the bay's mouth, making it suitable for hiding boats.

"Liang Ting...you've met him?" Zhu Han asked.

"I saw him. He changes his cards at night and doesn't come during the day."

What did he say when he switched the cards?

“Say, ‘As usual,’” the old man said in a hoarse voice. “It’s been twenty years.”

"Twenty years," Zhu Han said. "'Old precedent notes' have been borrowed by you."

The old man took a deep breath, as if trying to swallow the mud in his throat: "I only know how to grind grains, I only know about soil. I don't understand your words."

He looked up again, "Sir... do you want to take me?"

“No.” Zhu Han shook his head. “You’re making a dike, not a ferry crossing. You can make the seal again. But the seal needs to be recarved, with a stroke next to the character ‘贤’ (xián). Everyone who walks over the seal must see ‘止’ (zhǐ).

The old man clenched his fist, his knuckles turning white: "Fine."

“Lend us two things: your old pipe and the scale in the backyard.”

The old man was taken aback, then went out and carried back a charred tobacco pipe and an old scale.

Zhu Han took the pipe, gave it a flick, and a thin piece of bamboo core fell off the end, covered in oil: "Good."

He placed the scale on the ground, using his pipe as a lever and the scale markers as a reference point, and tested the strength of the "dock-walking wooden stomp." The center of the lever sank slightly, but the end of the lever bounced back up. "Smooth, it can go," Zhu Han said. "When the cards are changed at night, the wooden stomp must be lowered. At the time of lowering the stomp, the horns must be disordered, giving them a 'disorderly' effect."

"It means forcing him to reveal his skills." Yin Yan understood.

“If you’re handy, just take it.” Zhu Han stood up. “After sunset, place a small lamp at each end of the ferry, with a nail embedded in the base of the lamp. Place another nail lamp at the mouth of the small bay, illuminating the heart of the reeds—if the heart of the reeds moves, the lamp will float.”

"Your Highness, are you going to take Liang Ting away in person?" Gu Qingping asked.

“Face to face.” Zhu Han said calmly, “The embankment doesn’t accept ‘shadows,’ it only accepts ‘people.’”

She nodded: "Okay."

As the sky approaches yellow, Xianshui Ferry gradually becomes more populated.

People carrying loads, pushing carts, and herding cattle came and went.

The patrol officers at the ferry crossing changed hands; the daytime officer took the patrol officer's card, while the nighttime officer took the card.

As dusk fell, the patrolman sat upright at the table, expressionless, and struck the wooden fish three times as usual—"Night crossing begins."

Soon, three bugle calls came from upstream. Tonight was different from usual; the third call was drawn out by half a beat, followed by a very soft "Stop."

Liang Ting's eyelids twitched, thinking she had misheard, and she straightened up again.

As the first small boat approached, Liang Ting pressed down on his sign: "Wheel."

The boatman grunted, took a step back as per the rules, and waited for the second boat to come ashore. The wooden stirrup creaked, and the dock really did move down a foot.

Almost no one in the crowd noticed; they only felt that their feet were more stable.

As the third boat approached, the horn suddenly sounded "near, far, near," the three sounds not in unison.

Liang Ting instinctively looked up and then struck the wooden fish heavily.

"Is the night crossing complete?" he asked, drawing out his words like he was reciting a poem.

Below the dock, Wei Xin released a tiny bubble with a "poof".

In the shadows behind the embankment, the silver nail on the little lamp's foot trembled.

Gu Qingping spoke from within the grass: "Weixin is moved."

"Keep an eye on Xiaowan," Zhu Han whispered.

Deep within the willow shadows of the small bay, a slender boat moves gently, like a fish trying to dive into the reeds.

Just as we were about to enter, a light suddenly appeared in the sky above the bay entrance—the flame of that "nail lamp" was pressed down by the wind, and the flame leaned westward.

In that instant, the bow tilted slightly, preventing the boat from entering the bay and instead revealing an inch of its hull.

"Take it." Yin Yan leaped out of the grass, held the bamboo ruler horizontally, and slapped the "nail lamp" with his backhand. The lamp flame "snap" and leaped up, illuminating the face of the man at the bow of the boat—Liang Ting.

He looked thinner than he did during the day, but when he stood under the lamp, he appeared very heavy, as if his bones had accumulated over many years.

Liang Ting was taken aback at first, but then, without surprise or anger, he dropped the boat pole and steadily raised his hand: "Here."

"Who gave you the old custom of crossing at night?" Zhu Han stepped out of the shadows at the ferry landing, his voice not loud.

“In the past, there were no anonymous letters,” Liang Ting replied.

"Where is Zha?"

"in my heart."

"Can the words 'the Crown Prince is at your disposal' be written in your heart?" Yin Yan sneered.

Liang Ting did not argue: "I don't know those four characters."

“You can’t read, yet you know ‘uneven’,” Gu Qingping said. “Just now, when the horn blew in disarray, you were half a breath late in getting off the boat, and the reed heart didn’t have time to release the water. Next time, the boat will capsize.”

Liang Ting's lips twitched as if she wanted to laugh, but she didn't: "Are you here tonight to take me, or to seal Wei?"

“Let’s get the ‘stakes’ first,” Zhu Han said. “Who drove in the wooden nails for the reed heart to guide the water?”

"The nail-driving men are gone." Liang Ting raised his chin, gesturing to the opposite bank of the bay. "They left during the day. I'm alone at night."

“One person is enough.” Yin Yan patted his shoulder. “Inspector Liangting, night crossing is not allowed, reed heart is not allowed, and secret riding is not allowed.”

“I’m doing it the usual way,” Liang Ting said firmly.

"The old precedent has been abolished in court," Zhu Han said calmly. "What you're following isn't the old precedent, it's the old traitor."

Liang Ting remained silent, his shoulders gradually slumping.

He suddenly said, "The man who hammers nails is surnamed Yan, nicknamed 'Xiao Zhong,' and he grinds locks at the east end of Xianshui. He has fine hands."

“Yan Zhong,” Zhu Han noted. “He makes the nails, you make the cards, so who else makes the numbers?”

"The number belongs to you."

"Tonight's number is ours. Who usually gives you 'all the numbers'?" Zhu Han asked.

Liang Ting paused slightly, then finally uttered a single word: "Temple".

Which one?

“Jingsha Nunnery on the upper reaches of Xianshui River”.

Gu Qingping looked at the darkness behind the embankment: "After Zhongshan, the nunnery has come again."

“The nunnery doesn’t house a monk,” Liang Ting said. “It’s a woman named Lu. She practiced Buddhism for several years, then returned to secular life, but still lives in the nunnery.”

"Her surname is Lu." Zhu Han turned the pipe around, the end of which was shiny with oil. "She gives you the number, you give her the wooden kickstand."

“She didn’t give me a number,” Liang Ting shook his head. “It was incense. When the incense is strong, the wind blows smoothly, and people lean against it.”

He paused for a moment, then said, "She would come every time I was moving wooden stools, take a look, and then leave."

"What are you looking at?"

"Look at the water."

"Does she know a lot about water?" Zhu Han asked.

"I don't understand," Liang Ting said calmly. "But she's been watching for a long time, so it seems like she does."

"Take him back to Xianshui," Zhu Han said. "Don't beat him, don't scold him, just let him sit there all night. Tomorrow morning, go to Jingsha Temple to offer incense."

"Yes, sir." Yin Yan replied, tied Liang Ting's wrists, and escorted him back to the ferry.

The ferry crossing was soon deserted. The wooden stilts were pulled back to shore and inserted into the slots.

The reed was temporarily stuffed with cloth, and the sound of the water became quieter.

The next day, at Jingsha Temple.

The nunnery was small, the walls were damp, and a crooked bluestone path led to the entrance.

Two strings of short bells hung in the courtyard. The sound of the bells was different from that of Zhongshan Chengyuan—thinner and lighter, as if made by a woman's hand.

A small vase statue was placed in front of the hall, with three sticks of incense sticks inserted into its mouth.

A woman in plain clothes lowered the incense stick, and as she straightened up, her eyes were calm and unwavering: "Honored guest."

"The Lu family in the nunnery?" Zhu Han asked.

"I am Lu Qing, a commoner." She lowered her head. "I once entered the Taoist order, but I have now returned to secular life."

"You offer incense to the ferryman at night?"

“I’m lighting incense, not for anyone.” Lu Qing’s hands hung down. “Incense is incense, and crossing is crossing.”

"If Xiangruo leans against the reed heart, then you will become the ferryman." Gu Qingping took a step forward. "You have too many 'not who's who."

Lu smiled slightly: "What you say is true, Madam. I will not argue."

“You know Liang Ting,” Zhu Han said.

"We've known each other for twenty years." Lu Qing didn't shy away from the question. "He was exchanging tokens at the ferry, and I was lighting incense in the temple. We each did our own thing."

"Who told you to order?"

"No one called." (End of Chapter)