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

Her smile was steady, but a hint of lingering tension was hidden in her eyes.

Zhu Han saw it immediately, but didn't point it out.

"Where is the Crown Prince?"

“In the inner study.” Gu Qingping paused, then said in a low voice, “After the morning court session this day, he… was not at ease.”

Zhu Han hummed in agreement.

Of course he knew.

Sealing off old practices may seem gentle, but it's tantamount to removing a familiar paving stone from under everyone's feet.

No one will turn hostile on the spot, but undercurrents will certainly be surging both inside and outside the palace.

Inside the study, Zhu Biao stood before the desk, looking at several copies laid out.

He did not sit.

It was an unconscious posture of vigilance, as if ready to step forward again at any moment.

Hearing footsteps, he looked up and saw Zhu Han, and the tension in his eyes eased slightly.

"Uncle Seven."

"Sit down." Zhu Han sat down first. "You've been standing all morning."

Zhu Biao shook his head, but still sat down opposite him.

His shoulders and back remained straight, just as they had been when he came down from the Fengtian Hall.

"What did Father Emperor say to you before he kept you here?"

Zhu Han did not answer immediately, but instead asked, "Do you think what he cares about most today is what you said, or the fact that you stood up?"

Zhu Biao was taken aback, then fell silent.

After a moment, he said in a low voice, "...Step forward."

“Yes.” Zhu Han nodded. “What you said today was actually very restrained. You didn’t name names, didn’t convict, and didn’t even pursue the matter. But the fact that you were in that position and used that ‘method’ already crossed a line.”

Zhu Biao's fingers slowly tightened.

"That line was meant to be crossed by someone."

“Yes.” Zhu Han looked at him. “But those who cross the line will definitely be seen.”

Zhu Biao looked up, his eyes bright: "I know."

He spoke calmly, without the impulsiveness of a young man, nor with any deliberate display of resolve.

It's as if they had long anticipated this day and were prepared to bear the weight.

Zhu Han sighed inwardly.

Zhu Biao is too steady.

He was so steady that it was unlike the "sharpness" one would expect from a crown prince, yet his steadyness was so great that no one dared to underestimate him.

“It’s right of Father to tell you to stay home more in the next few days,” Zhu Han said. “It’s not to protect you, it’s to keep an eye on you.”

"What are you looking at?"

"Let's see who's in a hurry," Zhu Han said calmly. "Only those in a hurry will show their true colors."

Zhu Biao nodded, but then suddenly asked, "Seventh Uncle, since you spoke up for me today, will people... remember it too?"

Zhu Han smiled.

“It’s been remembered for a long time,” he said. “It’s been on my mind ever since I sat in this position.”

Zhu Biao paused for a moment, then smiled.

The smile was faint, yet it carried a rare sense of ease.

Just then, a female official's voice came from outside.

"Your Highness, the Qingli Bureau has submitted a document stating that... there are old files that have been supplemented."

Zhu Han and Zhu Biao exchanged a glance.

"So fast," Zhu Han said in a low voice.

Zhu Biao stood up: "Please."

The document was brought in; it was in an unremarkable wooden box.

There was only one copy in the box, its pages yellowed, clearly a copy that had been rewritten in recent years. Zhu Biao opened the first page, and his brow twitched slightly.

"Supplement to the list of temporary dispatchers for river works in Jiangbei in the 22nd year of Hongwu".

Zhu Han leaned closer for a look, his gaze lingering for a moment on the names in the several lines.

One of the names was drawn with heavy ink, as if it had been deliberately emphasized.

“This is…” Zhu Biao said in a low voice.

"It's a test," Zhu Han said. "Someone wants you to pursue them now."

Zhu Biao closed the booklet and remained silent for a long time.

What if I don't chase after them?

“Then they’ll be even more anxious,” Zhu Han said. “So anxious that they start making mistakes.”

Zhu Biao closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them again, his expression had returned to its usual calm.

"This volume will not be presented to Father Emperor for the time being."

“Yes.” Zhu Han nodded. “Leave it. Let it ferment on its own.”

When we left the East Palace, it was already getting dark.

Shortly after returning home, night fell completely.

Only one lamp was lit in the study of the Prince of Han's mansion, and the light and shadow swayed gently on the wall.

Zhu Han had just sat down when someone gently knocked on the window lattice.

It's not the main entrance.

He didn't get up, but simply said, "Come in."

A shadow flickered in the window, and a figure silently entered the room, kneeling on one knee.

"Your Highness, we've found it."

"explain."

"The supplementary list of names in the Qing Dynasty was not produced by the Qing Dynasty."

The man said in a low voice, "The paper and ink used for copying are consistent with a batch of private documents from the Ministry of Works in the past three years."

Zhu Han's eyes turned cold.

"Ministry of Works?"

“Yes,” the man continued, “and… the person who was highlighted died three years ago.”

The light flickered gently.

"cause of death?"

"Died of illness." The man paused, "but there was no autopsy or review at the time, so it was entered into the register very quickly."

Zhu Han slowly leaned back in his chair and tapped the table lightly with his fingertips.

This was no longer a test of Zhu Biao.

Someone wanted to dig an old corpse out of the ground and stuff it into the prince's hands.

“Very good,” Zhu Han said. “Continue the investigation.”

"Yes."

The night rain started falling after midnight.

It wasn't a sudden downpour, but a fine, persistent rain that fell on the blue tiles with a low, muffled sound, like someone repeatedly rubbing a scabbard in the dark.

The side gate of the backyard of the Prince of Han's mansion was gently pushed open.

The guards at the gate only glanced at the token on the man's waist before stepping aside to let him pass without asking any further questions.

Zhu Han is still in his study.

The lamp hadn't been moved, but the light was dimmer than before; the wick had been secretly trimmed, leaving only enough light to illuminate the table.

The newcomer entered without kneeling, but simply cupped his hands and said in a low voice, "Your Highness."

Zhu Han looked up and saw that the rain on his shoulder was still wet.

"Were you being watched on the street?"

“There is a way,” the man answered steadily, “but we went around it.”

Zhu Han nodded, signaling him to continue.

"The investigation into the Ministry of Works' line is progressing faster than expected." The man took out a thin folded piece of paper from his pocket and spread it out on the table. "Three years ago, there was indeed a discrepancy in the accounts of the group of people temporarily transferred to the Jiangbei River Works."

Zhu Han reached out and pressed down on the corner of the paper, his gaze following the numbers downwards.

The accounts weren't large.

So small that it would almost go unnoticed unless someone deliberately dug up old files.

"How much is missing?" he asked.

"Three hundred and seventy taels of silver," the man said, "spread across five payments, each not exceeding one hundred taels."

Zhu Han chuckled softly.

"Good technique."

This amount is enough to avoid arousing suspicion from higher-ups, while also being sufficient to cultivate a private network locally.

“That deceased supervisor of the river works,” the man continued, “was not the actual person in charge. His seal was used twice more a year after his death.”

Zhu Han's fingers paused.

Who used it?

“A clerk in the Ministry of Works’ Construction Department.” The man paused, then added in a low voice, “This person was just transferred to the Ministry of Personnel’s Copying Department half a year ago.”

The sound of rain suddenly became a little heavier.

The wind outside the window blew the rain at an angle, hitting the window paper and leaving fine watermarks.

Zhu Han did not speak immediately.

"Give me a clean resume of that person in charge," Zhu Han said.

"Yes."

“And,” Zhu Han looked up, “who has he seen recently?”

The man acknowledged and withdrew.

The study fell silent again.

The lamplight reflected in Zhu Han's eyes, but couldn't penetrate deeper. He slowly closed the ledger, his fingertips lingering on the cover for a moment.

Outside the Fengtian Hall, several senior officials "coincidentally" encountered officials from the Qingli Bureau. During their conversation, they mentioned, "The Crown Prince's act of supplementing old records was a sign of his benevolence."

Even the Minister of Works was seen lingering a moment longer after the morning court session.

These fragmented movements were sent one by one to the Prince Han's residence.

After listening, Zhu Han only said one sentence: "No rush."

Zhu Han stood up and put on his outer robe.

"Prepare the carriage," he said. "I'm going to the palace."

I entered the palace at night; the rain had stopped.

The stone steps were still damp with water, and the palace lanterns lit up one by one, illuminating the path too clearly, making it seem even more empty.

Zhu Han's carriage stopped outside Chengtian Gate.

The people who came to greet us were not ordinary eunuchs, but people from the Imperial Guard.

"Your Highness," the man said in a low voice, "His Majesty is in the Qianqing Palace."

Zhu Han nodded and didn't ask any more questions when he got out of the car.

He knew that the fire at the Qingli Bureau couldn't have only reached his eyes.

Inside the Qianqing Palace, the lights were brighter than usual.

Zhu Yuanzhang sat behind his desk, not reviewing any memorials, but holding a cup of tea, as if waiting for someone.

Zhu Han entered the hall and paid his respects.

“I’m summoning you to the palace at night,” Zhu Yuanzhang said, looking at him. “I’m disturbing your peace and quiet.”

"I dare not disturb my elder brother's summons," Zhu Han replied calmly.

Zhu Yuanzhang put down his teacup and tapped his finger lightly on the table.

"What do you think about the fire at the Qingli Office?"

coming.

Zhu Han did not answer immediately, but instead looked up at the hall.

There was no one else around.

Even the eunuchs who were attending to him retreated far away.

"The fire was lit skillfully," he said. "It didn't damage the bones or muscles, only the memory."

A faint smile flickered across Zhu Yuanzhang's eyes.

"Then who do you think wants to forget?"

“Many people want to forget,” Zhu Han said, “but few dare to touch the Qingli Division.”

Zhu Yuanzhang remained silent for a moment.

“Someone submitted a memorial,” he said, “saying it was a natural disaster.”

“Natural disasters don’t just burn down one warehouse,” Zhu Han replied.

Zhu Yuanzhang suddenly raised his eyes, his gaze sharp for a moment.

"Are you speaking up for Biao'er?"

“I am speaking on behalf of the Ming Dynasty,” Zhu Han said. “If a fire today can turn old archives to ashes, tomorrow some people will think that laws and regulations can also be burned.”

The hall fell silent.

The wick popped softly.

Zhu Yuanzhang stared at Zhu Han for a long time, then suddenly asked, "Do you think we should make a move against Biao'er now?"

Zhu Han's heart tightened.

This is the key.

“If you move too fast,” he said, “you’ll be led by the nose; if you don’t move at all, the fire will burn for nothing.”

Zhu Yuanzhang narrowed his eyes: "Then what do you think we should do?"

Zhu Han looked up, his tone soft yet clear.

"Let's move to another place."

Zhu Yuanzhang did not respond, but gestured for him to continue.

“The accounts of the Qingli Division were burned as ‘transcriptions,’ not ‘original files,’” Zhu Han said. “The original files are not in the Qingli Division.”

Zhu Yuanzhang's finger stopped.

"where?"

"Ministry of Works," Zhu Han replied.

Inside the Qianqing Palace, the air seemed to be pressed down by an invisible force.

Zhu Yuanzhang slowly leaned back in his chair and suddenly smiled.

The smile was faint, yet it sent a chill down one's spine.

“Alright,” he said. “Then we’ll check with the Ministry of Works.”

Zhu Han didn't say another word.

Before dawn the next day, new guards had been assigned to stand under the stone lions outside the Ministry of Works.

It wasn't an open exchange.

The license plate was still the same, and the people were still the same faces, but their positions were slightly off by half a step, and their gazes were lower than usual.

Those familiar with the Ministry of Works will notice upon close inspection that the angle at which these people hold their sword hilts is exactly the same as that of the Imperial Guard.

Before the first bell of the morning had faded, the Minister of Works was already in his office.

He barely slept last night.

When news of the fire at the Qingli Office arrived, he was still flipping through an old report on river works.

That page lingered between his fingers for a long time; the ink had long since turned yellow, and the edges were frayed.

He wasn't looking at the words, but at the date and time at the bottom of the line.

In the sixteenth year of the Hongwu reign (1380), a temporary relocation was made for river works in Jiangbei.

That was three years ago.

"Your Excellency, the Minister of Works," someone whispered outside the door, "the people from the Prince of Han's residence have arrived."

The Minister of Works tightened his knuckles, then loosened them.

"please."

There were only two people who came.

A palace attendant, a middle-aged clerk dressed in ordinary clothes, had an inconspicuous bronze plaque hanging from his waist.

The bronze plaque had no words on it, only a very thin horizontal line engraved on it.

This is the mark of the Imperial Guard's secret agents.

The Minister of Works rose to greet him, displaying impeccable manners, but said little.

“His Highness has ordered,” the clerk said in a low voice, “that the Ministry of Works be requested to cooperate in reviewing the original files on river works from the past five years.”

"The original file?" The Minister of Works remained expressionless. "This matter needs to be reported to the Cabinet—"

"It has already been reported." The clerk placed a short note on the table. "His Majesty has personally approved it."

The Minister glanced at the short letter, and after confirming that it was correct, he slowly nodded.

"The Ministry of Works will cooperate."

Even so, he already knew in his heart that this was not a routine file transfer, but rather a case of digging up ashes from a spark.

The original archives were stored in the West Warehouse of the Ministry of Works.

It is older than the Qing Dynasty's copying archives, and the beams and pillars still bear the marks from the early Hongwu period.

There are three keys in total. One is in the hands of the Minister, one is in the hands of the Vice Minister, and the last one, according to regulations, should be sealed and stored in the Grand Secretariat.

Today, all three keys have come together.

When the warehouse door opened, dust rushed out.

The clerk didn't rush in. He just stood at the door, glanced at the spider webs hanging from the beam, and then looked at the old and new footprints on the ground.

“Someone has come here in the last half month,” he said.

The Minister said calmly, "Year-end inventory auditing is routine."

The clerk did not ask any further questions, but simply gestured for the person to enter.

The process of flipping the gear is not quick.

The files on river works were numerous and varied, often numbering in the dozens of boxes. The Imperial Guards did not review them all, but only selected those from the Jiangbei area, examining them box by box in chronological order.

Problems arose with the third box.

Tucked inside one of the original documents was a page of ledger paper that was clearly different from the rest.

The paper is new, and the ink is rich.

The number on it matches exactly the 370 taels that were "missing" in the Qing Dynasty official records.

The clerk did not make a fuss immediately, but simply pulled out the page of the ledger and put it into his leather box.

The Minister stood to one side, a thin layer of sweat already forming on his back.

“Your Excellency,” the clerk suddenly said, “this original document should have been sealed off three years ago.”

"Yes."

"Then where did this new account come from?"

The Minister remained silent.

After a moment, he whispered, "Someone in the Ministry of Works has made unauthorized alterations."

"Who?"

The Minister did not answer.

The clerk closed the leather case: "Then let me ask another question—in the last six months, who has been transferred to the Qingli Division to assist in transcription?"

The Minister's eyelids twitched.

"The Construction and Maintenance Department... has a chief clerk."

"Name."

"Xu Jingxiu".

The moment the name was uttered, it was like a nail driven into the desk. (End of Chapter)