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

He remained silent for a moment, then slowly reached out and took out the small seal with the inscription "Light One Coin" from his pocket, placing it on the bridge railing.

"Water-cooled," Li Gong reminded him.

"The seal needs to be cold." Zhu Han smiled and let go. The small seal fell into the water with a soft sound, and ripples spread out in circles.

“After the fire, no one played with seals anymore,” Zhu Han said.

"Your Highness," Li Gong hesitated, "what if the fire really goes out in thirty days?"

"It's fine if it's extinguished." Zhu Han looked towards the city gate. "The fire will be extinguished, but the wind will remember. The wind's memory is enough."

He turned to leave, then suddenly stopped and added softly, "Even if I am not at the Meridian Gate then, someone must remember what fire looks like."

Li Gong solemnly replied, "I will remember."

Zhu Han returned to his residence but did not enter; instead, he stood directly under the eaves outside the palace.

The wind brushed past his clothes, and the smell of fire lingered.

Zhu Biao pushed open the door and came out. Seeing that he had not left, he smiled and said, "Uncle, as long as the fire is not extinguished, you should not stop either."

"The fire is in this city, not with me," Zhu Han said softly. "I'm just guarding it."

Zhu Biao was silent for a moment, then said, "And when the wind stops?"

"I'm leaving now." Zhu Han smiled gently. "The door is secure. I'll take a step back."

"Where to retreat to?" Zhu Biao asked.

"After the fire," Zhu Han replied, "I saw people writing 'flat'."

Zhu Biao was taken aback: "Ping?"

"Fire, wind, and water have all passed, and the characters must be even." Zhu Han's gaze softened. "That's what makes it complete."

Zhu Biao nodded and said in a low voice, "That day, I will make the bell ring three times."

Zhu Han laughed: "Three times is enough."

Before nightfall, the sound of the night watchman's drum had already reached the rooftops of the capital.

Zhu Han emerged from the back corridor of the Prince's Mansion, his boots treading on the bluestone, the sound barely audible as the eaves of the corridor swallowed the noise.

He didn't go towards the main gate, but instead walked along the alley outside the warehouse.

At the end of the alley, there is a small house with paper windows that are never replaced, but the light is never turned off.

He flipped to the top page and stopped.

It was a report on the repair of the Caoqiao Bridge in Nancheng. The handwriting was neat, the numbers were complete, and there was not a single mistake.

Zhu Han didn't close it. Instead, he put it under the lamp, looked at it again, and then pulled out another copy from the side, a transcript from the Ministry of Revenue's warehouse.

The two sheets of paper are side by side, with the same ink and wording, but there is only one slight difference: the number of tenons used for the repair is three more in the copy.

Three pieces of wood, worth very little, could determine the whereabouts of an extra box.

Zhu Han closed the paper, not marking it immediately, but simply pressing it to the bottom.

He stood up, walked to the map on the wall, and pointed to the waterline of the southern city.

“If the waterline doesn’t move, the bridge won’t move,” he said in a low voice.

Footsteps sounded outside; Chen Shu was already waiting at the door.

He didn't say much when he entered the room, but simply handed over a series of sealed letters.

Zhu Han opened it, glanced at the signature, and saw it was from an inner clerk in the Crown Prince's residence.

"His Highness will be studying at the Wenhua Hall tomorrow afternoon. Please proceed as you see fit."

After reading it aloud, Chen Shu added, "The Crown Princess is also here."

Zhu Han nodded and folded the letter. "Tell him I'll go before noon."

Chen Shu agreed, but did not leave. "Your Highness, the shop under the bridge in the south of the city changed its manager last night."

Who changed it?

"The match was arranged by the Maritime Trade Office, ostensibly to settle old scores."

Zhu Han smiled, but there was no joy in his expression. "The more threads you tie, the faster it will break. Let them change them."

Chen Shu looked up, seemingly wanting to ask a question, but held back and simply noted down the order.

Zhu Han turned around and took out a thin booklet from under the desk. The cover was untitled, but the inside was filled with times and destinations.

"I'll go to the South City Bridge at 9:00 AM tomorrow," Zhu Han said.

"The prince will go in person?" Chen Shu was taken aback.

"I'm going to look at the bridge, not the people." Zhu Han closed the book. "You stay in the manor and collect documents."

The next day, under clear skies, Zhu Han, without any entourage, rode in a small sedan chair, taking a detour through a side street.

Under the Nancheng Cao Bridge, the water flowed gently, and the bridge's shadow swayed slightly on the water's surface.

The newly appointed shopkeeper was checking the goods in the shop when he saw someone coming. He assumed it was a passing steward from the Prince's mansion and bowed respectfully.

Zhu Han didn't go into the shop; he just stood by the bridge, looking down at the water.

The mortise and tenon joints at the bottom of the bridge were reflected in the water, old and new wood interspersed, their colors distinct. He pointed to one of them, "This part has been replaced."

The shopkeeper hurriedly replied, "Sir, it was repaired the other day, and the old wood rotted."

“Rotten wood floats,” Zhu Han said. “This one sinks.”

The shopkeeper paused, sweat beading on his forehead.

Zhu Han didn't ask any further questions, but simply turned and left.

On the way back, he took out the untitled book from the sedan chair and added a stroke: South City, Wood, Sinking.

In the morning, the sound of reading aloud filled the Wenhua Hall.

Zhu Biao sat behind his desk, a book open in his hand, with Gu Qingping beside him, occasionally offering whispered reminders.

Zhu Han entered the hall, bowed, and sat down to the side. Zhu Biao looked up and smiled, "Uncle, you've arrived early."

"The road is smooth," Zhu Han replied.

During a break from studying, Zhu Biao closed his book and casually remarked, "Recently, bridges in the city have been under frequent repair."

"There's a lot of rain," Zhu Han said. "The bridge is old."

Gu Qingping glanced at Zhu Han and said gently, "It's always better to replace the old one."

"It's good if the replacement is correct," Zhu Han replied.

Zhu Biao seemed to be deep in thought, but did not ask any further questions, and simply asked someone to serve him tea.

A moment later, he added, "Uncle, the Ministry of Revenue has sent over an inventory list, saying that the southern city warehouses are in good condition."

"The inventory is well written," Zhu Han said.

"Is it truly flawless?"

Zhu Han picked up the teacup, blew on it, and then put it down. "Your Highness, a complete inventory does not mean a complete storeroom."

Zhu Biao paused for a moment, then nodded: "I understand."

That was the end of the conversation.

Zhu Han rose to take his leave, and Gu Qingping saw him to the palace gate, saying softly, "Uncle, please take care."

Zhu Han smiled but didn't say anything more.

Upon returning to his residence, Chen Shu had already sorted out the documents that had been delivered from various places that day.

Zhu Han walked straight to the table, took out the repair report from Nan Cheng, and gently scraped off a corner of the sealant with a fine knife.

The knot under the mud seal was tied with one more knot than usual.

"We tie an extra knot to prevent it from coming undone," Zhu Han said.

“Fear of separation indicates a guilty conscience,” Chen Shu replied.

Zhu Han shook his head: "Let's not talk about the heart. Let's talk about the hands."

He untied the knot and tied it back on, saying, "If you're too heavy-handed, there will be more marks."

As night deepened, the mansion fell silent.

Zhu Han sat alone at his desk, opening the untitled book and turning the pages one by one.

Each page contains the location, time, and object, but no comments.

He turned to the last page, paused, and his fingertip hovered over the line "South City - Bridge - Wood".

[Seven consecutive days of signing: Recorded.]

Zhu Han closed the book without changing his expression.

He got up, put on his clothes, went out, and headed straight for the south city.

This time, he didn't ride in a sedan chair; he walked. The shops under the bridge were closed, and the sound of the water was clearer than during the day.

Zhu Han walked along the bridge pier, holding a small lamp in his hand. The light shone into the water, revealing the outline of the new log.

He reached into the water; it was cool, but not bone-chilling.

The surface of the wood is smooth, but there is a thin mark on the bottom, as if it had been rubbed by something.

Zhu Han withdrew his hand, and the light shifted to the other side of the bridge. There, there was an inconspicuous drain, the water flowing thinly, but carrying debris.

"So this is where it is," he said softly.

The following morning, a minor official from the Maritime Trade Office was transferred from his original post, ostensibly to another assignment.

When the warehouse in the south city was being inventoried, an extra box of mortise and tenon pieces that had not been recorded was found, exactly ten times the number of the original three pieces.

The matter was not reported to the emperor, nor was any major action taken; it was quietly resolved within a few documents.

Zhu Biao received the new inventory list in the Wenhua Hall, read it, and then closed it. "This time, it is truly without flaws."

Gu Qingping smiled: "That's how my uncle always does things."

Zhu Biao nodded, but did not smile.

Zhu Han sat by the window in the study, the window paper half-open, the rain lines casting slanted shadows under the lamp.

There were no piles of documents in front of him, only an old wooden box with its lid open, inside which was an inconspicuous wooden plaque with its edges worn white.

[Eighth day of consecutive sign-ups: Location—South City Waterfront; Income—Old Account Index.]

The characters on the wooden sign are faint, as if they have been repeatedly rubbed by the years.

Zhu Han glanced at it only once before putting it back in the box, closing it, and pushing it to the corner of the table.

The movements were unhurried and deliberate, as if the thing was meant to be there.

Chen Shu stood to the side and whispered, "Your Highness, the batch of mortise and tenon wood in the South City warehouse has been filed in batches. The Maritime Trade Office has given us an explanation, saying that the accounts are mixed up and the whereabouts have been mistakenly recorded."

"A misremembering?" Zhu Han reached out and adjusted the wick, stabilizing the flame. "They misremembered it very neatly."

Chen Shu did not respond.

The rain grew heavier, and the banana leaves in the courtyard were pattered loudly.

Zhu Han got up, walked to the window, and looked at the dark night.

"Tomorrow morning, send a copy of the old accounts from the South City to the Ministry of Revenue for Vice Minister Shen."

"Which one?" Chen Shu asked.

Zhu Han turned around and glanced at him. "The oldest one."

Chen Shu was taken aback. That account book was an old record left over from the early years of the Hongwu reign when the Grand Canal was first established, and no one had looked at it for a long time.

"Do as instructed." Zhu Han had already turned around. "No need to explain."

The rain stopped the following morning.

When Zhu Han entered the palace, it was not yet fully light.

The stone steps in front of the Wenhua Hall gleamed with water, and the eunuchs walked very lightly, afraid of disturbing the tranquility inside the hall.

Zhu Biao had already sat down behind his desk and was looking down at a memorial. Gu Qingping was beside him, tidying up the pages of the book he had opened.

“Uncle.” Zhu Biao looked up and saw Zhu Han enter. His expression relaxed a little. “You’ve come even earlier today.”

"The road is easier to travel after the night rain." Zhu Han bowed and sat down, glancing at the documents on the table without asking any further questions.

Zhu Biao closed the memorial, as if remembering something: "This morning, Vice Minister Shen of the Ministry of Revenue submitted an old account, saying it was transferred from the Prince of Han's residence."

"I asked them to deliver it," Zhu Han replied.

“That debt is too old.” Zhu Biao frowned. “Most of the people involved are no longer in their positions.”

"Accounts don't recognize people," Zhu Han said. "They only recognize the numbers."

Gu Qingping said softly, "When old grievances are brought up, someone has to be able to understand them."

Zhu Han glanced at her and nodded slightly. "The Crown Princess is right."

Zhu Biao pondered for a moment, then nodded: "I will have someone investigate thoroughly."

That concludes the discussion. The sound of reading resumed, and the hall returned to its original rhythm.

In the afternoon, Zhu Han did not return to his residence, but instead took a detour to the former Ministry of Works.

In the backyard of the Ministry of Works, there is an inconspicuous little storeroom filled with remnants of bridge and embankment repairs over the years.

The building is a mixture of wood, stone, and iron parts, covered in a thick layer of dust.

When the old official on guard saw Zhu Han, he hurriedly bowed, but was stopped by raising his hand.

"I'll see for myself," Zhu Han said.

He walked slowly through the warehouse, his fingertips brushing against the old pieces of wood.

Some of the wood had turned black, and some was riddled with cracks, yet the original design was still evident. He stopped at the innermost part.

There stood a new tree, out of place with its surroundings.

Zhu Han reached out and felt a fine engraving on the bottom of the wood, the same shape as the one under the South City Bridge.

He didn't say anything, just stood there for a while, then turned and left.

Back at his residence that night, Zhu Han placed the "wooden compass comparison" side by side with the record of the South City Bridge and compared them word by word.

Under the lamp, his shadow fell on the table, steady and long.

When Chen Shu came in, he saw him adding a note on a piece of paper, which read: "Same rules, different approvals".

“Your Highness,” Chen Shu said in a low voice, “that minor official in the Maritime Trade Office fell ill after being transferred.”

"Illness?" Zhu Han's pen didn't stop. "What illness?"

“They said he caught a chill at night.” Chen Shu paused. “However, the line he was originally in charge of has been reassigned.”

Zhu Han finally put down his pen. "Whose job was it?"

“An insignificant clerk who used to work in the Salt Tax Bureau.”

Zhu Han smiled faintly. "Those from the Salt Tax Bureau have the finest hands."

He closed the booklet and asked no more questions.

On the third day, Zhu Han went to the north of the city.

There is an old waterway in the north of the city. After the canal was rerouted in the early years, it was rarely maintained, and the banks are mostly abandoned warehouses.

Zhu Han arrived on foot, accompanied only by Chen Shu.

The river was shallow and the current was slow, with fresh footprints on the muddy banks.

Zhu Han followed the trail and stopped in front of a half-collapsed shed.

Several crates of timber were piled up in the shed, their exteriors painted with old paint, but the corners were brand new. He didn't open them; he just walked around them.

“Write down the number of boxes,” Zhu Han said.

The statement was answered.

[Day 10 of consecutive sign-ins: Location—Old River in the North of the City; Income—Transfer Route.]

Upon returning home, Zhu Han meticulously compared the "allocation routes" with the previous accounts. The lines on the paper gradually closed, like a silent net.

On the fourth day, the Ministry of Revenue began to take stock of the Ministry of Works' stockpiled materials from previous years.

On the fifth day, the Ministry of Works discovered discrepancies in the figures during its self-inspection and reported them to the Cabinet.

On the sixth day, the Maritime Trade Office submitted a document requesting verification.

Zhu Han has not shown up.

He did not enter the palace again until the morning of the seventh day.

The atmosphere inside the Wenhua Hall was more somber than usual.

Zhu Biao looked at the newly delivered inventory list and tapped his knuckles lightly on the table.

“Uncle,” he said, “this time, there are quite a few places involved.”

"Having many places doesn't necessarily mean having a big deal," Zhu Han replied.

"But if we dig deeper into this line—"

“Your Highness,” Zhu Han interrupted him, his tone calm, “the line has been broken.”

Zhu Biao was taken aback.

Zhu Han took out a folded piece of paper from his sleeve and handed it over. "This is the final inventory list."

Zhu Biao unfolded the book, quickly read it, and let out a long sigh. "Just as I expected."

Gu Qingping stood to the side, looking at Zhu Han with a complicated expression, but in the end she only smiled.

"Uncle, you've worked hard."

Zhu Han rose and bowed. "It is my duty."

As night fell, the outline of the capital city slowly came into view.

Zhu Han woke up very early. He always did so; he didn't need the night watchman's drum or anyone to wake him.

The sky outside the window was still gray, but he had already put on his clothes and gotten up to put the untitled book back into the desk.

The moment the book was closed, my fingertip paused on the cover, but I didn't turn the page again.

Things have already been put back in their place; going over them again would only be repeating the same thing.

Chen Shu, who was waiting outside, heard the commotion and whispered, "Your Highness, a message has come from the palace. His Highness the Crown Prince requests your presence at the palace this afternoon." (End of Chapter)