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

Zhu Han stood in the classroom, neither speaking nor drawing attention, as if everything that had happened yesterday had nothing to do with him.

After the court session ended, Zhu Biao did not return to the Eastern Palace immediately, but was kept by Zhu Yuanzhang for a while.

Zhu Han left Fengtian Hall, but did not leave. Instead, he walked slowly along the corridor.

As he turned a corner, he heard footsteps behind him.

"uncle."

Zhu Biao caught up, his expression normal, but his voice was very low. "Last night, someone delivered a piece of paper."

"You watched it?"

"I've seen it," Zhu Biao nodded. "It matches the letter I have."

Zhu Han didn't ask any further questions, only asking, "What are Your Highness's plans?"

Zhu Biao pondered for a moment. "I'll retrieve the accounts first."

Who holds the accounts?

"One copy each for the Ministry of Revenue and the Ministry of Works," Zhu Biao replied, "but I won't bother them."

Zhu Han stopped and glanced at him. "Your Highness, remember, the accounts are not evidence, but clues."

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

The two walked side by side for a while, neither of them mentioning the matter again. When they reached the fork in the road, Zhu Biao bowed and took his leave, then turned and returned to the East Palace.

Zhu Han watched his retreating figure, his gaze slightly lowered.

The crown prince is still young, but he already knows when to slow down and when to stop.

This is enough.

That afternoon, Zhu Han did not return to his residence, but instead went to an old warehouse in the west of the city.

The old warehouse had been abandoned for a long time. It was nominally under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of War, but in reality, it had been neglected for many years.

Zhu Han only brought two attendants with him. When he entered the gate, even the old soldier guarding the gate only looked up at him once before lowering his head again.

The warehouse was empty, covered in thick dust, and cobwebs hung from the wooden beams.

Zhu Han walked around the warehouse and finally stopped in an inconspicuous corner.

The ground there was slightly sunken, and the bricks and stones varied in age.

He crouched down and reached out to knock.

The voice sounded muffled.

"Pry it open."

The attendants immediately took action. After a few moments, the brickwork was lifted, revealing a hidden compartment underneath.

Several wooden crates were placed in the hidden compartment, the seals of which had long been torn off.

The box did not contain complete ironware pieces, but rather disassembled parts, marked with the old numbers, but regrouped according to the new system.

Zhu Han looked through them one by one and already had a good idea of ​​what to expect.

This was not a spur-of-the-moment decision.

Instead, some people are following the shadow of the old system, acting in the gaps of the current regulations.

He stood up and dusted off his hands. "Seal it back up."

The attendants complied.

It was already dark when they left the old warehouse. Zhu Han did not return to his residence, but instead took a detour to an inconspicuous teahouse in the city.

Someone was already waiting at the window seat on the second floor.

He was an ordinary-looking young man dressed in common street clothes. When Zhu Han came up, he simply bowed slightly and continued to drink his tea.

Zhu Han sat down. "Was the journey smooth?"

"Yes," the man replied. "Those items in the East City won't be touched tonight."

"why?"

“Because someone is waiting for news.” The man put down his teacup. “Waiting for news of whether or not it has been seen.”

Zhu Han smiled faintly. "Then tell him."

"Tell what?"

“Tell him he saw it,” Zhu Han said. “And he saw it very clearly.”

The man was taken aback, then understood and nodded in agreement.

As night deepened, the noise in the teahouse gradually subsided. Zhu Han sat alone for a while, then got up and left.

When I returned home, the study lights were already on.

Chen Shu stood outside the door. When he saw him return, he whispered, "Your Highness, word has come from the palace that the Emperor wants to summon you to the palace tomorrow."

"Understood," Zhu Han replied, pushing the door open and entering.

In the study, everything was as usual. The old hydraulic engineering manual lay quietly in the hidden compartment, as if it had never been touched.

Zhu Han sat down, picked up his pen, and wrote a few lines on the paper, writing slowly and steadily.

After he finished writing, he folded the paper and put it into an inconspicuous envelope.

He paused for a moment when sealing the opening.

Then, a very light imprint was left.

That wasn't an official seal, nor was it a private seal.

It's just an old symbol.

The next morning, the letter was sent to the palace, but it did not enter the Wenhua Hall or the Zhongshu Province.

It was delivered directly to Zhu Yuanzhang's desk.

The emperor unfolded the letter, read only a few lines, and then looked up.

"Old fifth."

"Your subject is here." Zhu Han stepped forward.

Zhu Yuanzhang pointed to the letter. "Did you write this?"

"Yes."

"What do you want me to see?"

Zhu Han spoke calmly. "Check the city, check the treasury, check the accounts."

Zhu Yuanzhang was silent for a while, then suddenly laughed, but there was no real joy in it. "Your younger brother has never been one to talk much."

"I am simply writing down what I have seen."

Zhu Yuanzhang folded the letter and set it aside. "So, what do you think should be done?"

Zhu Han did not answer immediately.

The hall fell silent.

After a moment, he finally spoke: "What needs to be done is not on the table."

Zhu Yuanzhang looked at him for a long time before finally nodding.

"Go."

When Zhu Han left the palace, the sun was already setting.

The wind was light on the palace road, causing the copper bells under the eaves to ring with a clear and short sound.

He walked at a leisurely pace, as always, with a calmness that bordered on casualness.

However, the accompanying eunuchs could sense that the stillness was deeper than usual.

After returning to his residence, Zhu Han did not go into his study again, but instead went to the back garden.

The back garden of the Prince of Han's mansion was not large, but it was decorated with great care.

The pond water is drawn from an external river. The artificial hill is not high, but it hides a narrow path that leads directly to an inconspicuous little gate outside the garden.

That was an old sidewalk that was preserved when the mansion was expanded.

Zhu Han stood by the pond, looking at the fallen leaves floating on the water, and suddenly said, "Come out."

The sound of light footsteps came from behind the artificial hill, and a figure emerged from the shadows, kneeling on one knee.

"Your Highness."

This man was not tall, but he was extremely capable and dressed plainly, making him inconspicuous in a crowd.

"How's it going in the east of the city?" Zhu Han asked.

“All allocations have stopped since last night,” the man replied succinctly. “Someone has given a death order: no further movement is permitted.”

"Whose order was this?"

"It's not certain yet." The man hesitated for a moment, "but there aren't many people who can keep the Ministry of Works and the Military Affairs Bureau in check."

Zhu Han nodded, not surprised. "Just keep an eye on it, no need to get any closer."

"Yes."

Just as the man was about to leave, Zhu Han called him back.

“One more thing,” Zhu Han said, looking at the pond, “that transit point in the eastern suburbs will be empty tonight.”

The man was taken aback, then understood. "Understood."

The figure quickly disappeared into the garden.

Zhu Han stood alone for a while before turning and leaving.

That night, the capital city remained outwardly calm.

The sluice gate in the east of the city was closed, ostensibly for maintenance; several warehouses were temporarily sealed off, supposedly to settle old accounts; the military command suddenly replaced a group of night guards, the reason being "the autumn sacrifice is approaching, and caution is needed".

These changes were subtle yet interconnected. And in the Eastern Palace, the lights burned longer than usual.

Zhu Biao sat at his desk, several account books laid out in front of him, but he didn't turn the pages.

His gaze fell on the wooden box on the corner of the table. The box was closed, but it felt like a heavy stone pressing on his heart.

Gu Qingping carried in a cup of hot tea and gently placed it on the table.

"Your Highness, please rest for a while."

Zhu Biao looked up at her, gave her a slightly tired smile. "Watch for a little while longer."

Gu Qingping didn't try to persuade her anymore, but simply sat down beside her and quietly stayed with her.

After a moment, Zhu Biao suddenly asked, "Do you think the city has been quiet lately?"

Gu Qingping thought for a moment and replied, "It's quiet, almost deliberately so."

Zhu Biao nodded. "Yes."

He reached out, opened the wooden box, took out the letter, and read it again.

“Someone is shielding us from the wind,” he said.

Gu Qingping did not press for details about who it was, but simply said softly, "Then let him block it."

Zhu Biao closed the box, his expression gradually hardening.

Meanwhile, in an inconspicuous courtyard in the south of the city, the atmosphere was anything but peaceful.

Several men sat around a table with a city defense map spread out on it, which had been repeatedly drawn.

Several areas on the map are heavily circled, which represent several warehouses and waterways.

"It's immobile," someone whispered. "The Prince of Han has intervened."

"Hasn't he always ignored these things?" the other person frowned.

“He didn’t care before,” the man sneered. “But once he sees it, he won’t pretend he didn’t see it.”

The room fell silent for a moment.

After a long silence, someone finally spoke up: "Then what do we do?"

"Wait," the leader said slowly. "To move now would be like jumping into a fire."

"The things we prepared beforehand..."

"Disperse first." The man's gaze was gloomy. "Hide what you can, cut ties where you can. As long as the autumn sacrifice is over, there will still be a chance."

Before he could finish speaking, there was a sudden, urgent knocking at the door from outside the courtyard.

The expressions of everyone in the room changed.

"Who?"

"Routine patrol by the Military Command." The voice outside the door was not loud, but clear.

The leader took a deep breath and stood up. "Open the door."

The door was pushed open, and several soldiers filed in. The captain in the lead bowed and said in a businesslike tone, "We are ordered to patrol the night curfew. Please cooperate."

The pictures on the table had not yet been put away.

The captain glanced at the scene, his brow twitching almost imperceptibly, but he said nothing.

“Sorry to bother you,” he said. “It’s just routine.”

The soldiers circled around and quickly left the courtyard.

The moment the door closed, the people inside almost simultaneously breathed a sigh of relief.

"They saw it."

"Seeing it won't do any good," the leader said coldly. "Without orders, they dare not move."

However, when he said this, his tone was not as confident as before.

The next day, Zhu Han entered the palace again.

This time, he was not summoned directly, but waited for a long time in a side hall.

When he was led into the inner hall, Zhu Yuanzhang was standing by the window, looking at the sky outside.

"Fifth son," Zhu Yuanzhang said without turning around, "Do you think this city is clean?"

Zhu Han stopped and said calmly, "It's not clean, but it's not so dirty that it can't be washed off."

Zhu Yuanzhang turned around, stared at him for a long while, and suddenly laughed. "You make it sound so easy."

"I am only telling the truth."

Zhu Yuanzhang nodded. "Then when do you think we should wash?"

“When it’s time to reveal it, everything will be revealed,” Zhu Han replied.

After leaving the palace, Zhu Han did not return to his residence.

The carriage traveled through the city for a while before finally stopping at an inconspicuous alleyway.

This place is near the old town; it's bustling with people during the day, but extremely quiet at night.

Zhu Han got out of the car, taking only Chen Shu with him, and walked into the alley.

At the end of the alley was a paper shop with its doors closed.

A wooden sign that read "Closed for Renovation" was hanging on the door, the handwriting still fresh.

Zhu Han raised his hand and tapped the door frame three times lightly, in a very slow rhythm.

A moment later, the sound of the wooden bolt being moved came from inside the door, and a crack was opened.

"Your Highness," the person inside the door whispered.

Zhu Han nodded and stepped inside.

The paper shop was empty; the paper racks had long been cleared away, leaving only a few unmoved wooden crates.

The inner room, however, was a different world altogether. A lamp was lit, and two people sat at a table.

One of them was the same Ministry of Works official he had seen earlier in the side garden outside the Eastern Palace.

The other person was younger, with a calm expression, dressed in clothes that resembled those of an accountant, but with extremely thin fingers and calluses on the knuckles from years of turning over accounts.

"Have they all arrived?" Zhu Han asked.

"We've arrived." The Ministry of Works official stood up and bowed. "Your Highness."

Zhu Han gestured for them to sit down, then took his seat at the table. "I don't have much time, so let's get to the point."

The young man who looked like an accountant spoke first: "We have already reviewed the old accounts for that batch of iron parts in the east of the city. There are no problems on the books, but the weight was deliberately altered during the transfer."

"break up?"

“Yes.” The young man nodded. “According to regulations, these kinds of iron parts should be stored in the warehouse in batches, with consistent weight and serial numbers. But they broke the whole batch into several entries, each one within a reasonable range.”

Zhu Han's eyes flickered slightly upon hearing this. "What about the transit point?"

“It’s located in the old salt warehouse in the north of the city,” the Ministry of Works official replied. “Nominally abandoned, but actually always under guard.”

"Whose people are they?"

"Guards transferred from the Military Affairs Bureau," the man said with a wry smile, "but they eat the rations from the Ministry of Works."

Zhu Han tapped the table lightly. "That matches up."

He didn't ask any further questions, but instead took a folded piece of paper from his sleeve and placed it on the table.

"These are all the locations in the city where old iron parts might be used over the next three days."

He said, "Each of you keep watch over one spot, don't do anything, just take notes."

The two looked at each other and nodded at the same time.

“Your Highness,” the Ministry of Works official hesitated for a moment, “if we are discovered—”

"No," Zhu Han said calmly. "Nobody has the time to look back at you right now."

This is not a consolation, but a judgment.

The situation has been pushed to an indecisive point. The truly anxious ones are not the ones being watched, but those who don't know if they are being watched.

It was already dark when I came out of the paper shop.

After returning to his residence, Zhu Han went straight to his study.

Under the lamp, he unfolded the old waterworks manual, but only read a few pages before closing it.

He didn't need to confirm anything further; the lines were already complete.

A thought suddenly occurred to him.

[Check-in successful. Location: Study of Prince Han's Mansion.]

[Received: One old warehouse seal template (loaded from memory).]

Zhu Han's eyebrows twitched almost imperceptibly.

This thing isn't very useful, but it's just right.

The next day, a seal was suddenly placed outside the old salt warehouse in the north of the city.

The seals were old-fashioned and faded in color, but they were exactly the same as those used when the old warehouse was sealed.

The guards assumed it was an old rule added by higher-ups and dared not ask any further questions.

Meanwhile, Zhu Biao also received the news at the Eastern Palace.

It was neither a memorial nor a message, but just an ordinary copy of the accounts, tucked inside a routinely submitted document.

When Zhu Biao turned to that page, his finger paused for a moment.

That was an old debt from three years ago. The amount wasn't large, but it happened to correspond to the last "clearing out" of the salt warehouse in the north of the city.

He made no announcement, but instead copied that page of the account separately and placed it at the bottom of the wooden box. (End of Chapter)