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

They carried the grain sacks out one by one, their movements practiced and swift. Soon, the yard was piled high with grain sacks, like a small mountain.

The official stood to one side, his face growing increasingly grim, fine beads of sweat appearing on his forehead, his eyes filled with fear and unease.

A quarter of an hour later, the number was reported: "Six hundred and thirty bags."

The attendant announced loudly. Zhu Han nodded slightly, "Transport to the Northern Camp."

Upon hearing this, the official immediately panicked, "Your Highness, this grain—"

Zhu Han looked at him, his gaze authoritative. "What?"

The clerk opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but in the end dared not speak and could only lower his head helplessly.

Suddenly, the sound of horses' hooves rang out outside the courtyard gate, and a group of Imperial Guards quickly entered.

The leader dismounted with a swift and graceful movement. He strode up to Zhu Han and respectfully said, "Your Highness."

Zhu Han nodded slightly. "Find the ledgers in the warehouse."

The Imperial Guards immediately entered the warehouse and began a thorough search.

Not long after, an old book was unearthed.

Zhu Han took the old book and gently flipped through two pages. It didn't record military rations, but rather salt tax exchanged for grain, and the dates were still very recent.

He closed the booklet, a flash of anger in his eyes. "Take it away."

The Imperial Guards immediately stepped forward and seized the official. The official's legs went weak, and he almost knelt down, his body trembling uncontrollably, his eyes filled with despair.

Zhu Han didn't look at the officials again; he stepped out of the courtyard.

On the street, the sun had just risen, and its warm rays shone on the earth.

In the distance, people carrying loads on shoulder poles were already walking slowly, their figures appearing exceptionally small in the sunlight.

The convoy arrived quickly, and sacks of grain were loaded onto the trucks one by one, the wheels rolling on the ground with a "glug-glug" sound. Zhu Han stood at the street corner, quietly watching the convoy head north.

The attendant asked softly, "Your Highness, shall we return to the city?"

Zhu Han looked at the people coming and going on the street. Some people were carrying vegetable baskets, their faces full of life; some were carrying water, their steps hurried; and some children were chasing dogs, their laughter echoing in the air.

He said slowly, "Go to the North Camp."

The horse was led over, and Zhu Han mounted it with effortless grace.

From the direction of the city gate, a bugle call suddenly sounded, its deep and resonant tone seeming to be summoning something.

The convoy had already left South Street, and the grain sacks were piled steadily on the trucks.

The sound of horses' hooves rang out again, and Zhu Han led his men to catch up, their figures gradually disappearing into the distance.

The North Camp is located five li north of Yingtian City. It was originally an old military camp that was rebuilt.

The earthen wall is not high, but it occupies a vast area, giving people a sense of grandeur and magnificence.

Two rows of wooden stakes stood outside the camp gate, their tops worn smooth by countless years of use as tethering of horses and soldiers, seemingly telling tales of past glories and vicissitudes.

When Zhu Han arrived with his convoy, the sun had just risen over the city wall, and golden sunlight shone on the land of Beiying.

The gatekeeper recognized Zhu Han and immediately knelt down, shouting in a loud voice, "Prince Han!"

Zhu Han waved his hand and said, "No need."

The convoy stopped in front of the camp gate, and bags of grain were unloaded one by one.

The soldiers moved quickly, carrying two people per bag into the camp. Their steps were steady and powerful, and they soon built a wall of grain.

The commander in charge of the camp was surnamed Shi. He was in his forties, with a burly build, broad shoulders, and a thick back, giving him a powerful and imposing appearance.

He strode out of the camp, his armor not fully fastened, clearly having rushed there.

He called out loudly, "Your Highness."

Zhu Han looked at the pile of grain and asked, "How many days will this be enough?"

Commander Shi glanced at the number of bags and said, "Based on the current number of people in the camp, it will take five days."

Zhu Han nodded slightly. "When will the pot boil?"

Commander Shi turned and roared, "Bring the rice!"

The voice, like a booming bell, echoed throughout the camp.

Immediately, someone in the camp responded, and several soldiers carried bags to the pot, untied the ropes, and poured out the rice.

The water boiled, white foam surged, and cooking smoke rose, filling the camp and adding a touch of life to the entire North Camp.

The soldiers in the camp were already lined up, holding wooden bowls in their hands, standing straight like upright pine trees. No one spoke, only their firm gazes and steady breathing filled the air.

Zhu Han stood aside, quietly watching the rice in the pot slowly boil.

He suddenly asked, "Did anyone go out of the camp last night?"

Commander Shi thought for a moment and said, "No."

"Not a single one?" "Not a single one." Zhu Han nodded slightly, his eyes showing contemplation.

Suddenly, the sound of hooves came from afar, and a fast horse came from the south.

Immediately, a member of the Imperial Guard arrived, his movements swift and agile.

He dismounted and strode to Zhu Han, saying, "Your Highness, another warehouse has been found at the Salt Transport Office."

Zhu Han looked at him, his eyes asking, "Where?"

“The old shipyard in the east of the city,” the Imperial Guard replied quickly.

Zhu Han remained silent, a hint of seriousness flashing in his eyes.

Commander Shi couldn't help but mutter under his breath, "Still hiding?"

The Imperial Guard continued, "The Imperial Guard has sealed off the gate."

Zhu Han nodded slightly, "I understand."

The Imperial Guard did not linger, turned and left, his figure quickly disappearing into the distance.

The porridge in the pot is cooked, and the aroma of rice fills the air.

The soldiers stepped forward one by one to scoop up the porridge.

There was no scrambling; everyone was orderly, and once they got a bowl, they stepped aside to eat.

Zhu Han watched for a while, and a feeling of being moved welled up in his heart.

He suddenly walked over and took the wooden bowl from a soldier.

The soldier was startled and immediately knelt down, saying in a trembling voice, "Your Highness!"

Zhu Han shook his head and said, "I'll borrow the bowl."

He scooped a bowl of porridge from the pot himself; the porridge was thick and the rice grains were plump.

He stood at the camp gate, slowly finished his drink, handed the bowl back, and asked, "How was the taste?"

Commander Shi smiled and said, "As long as the soldiers are well-fed, that's fine."

Zhu Han put down the bowl and said, "We'll go to that warehouse in the east of the city this afternoon."

The old shipyard in the east of the city is located outside the Qinhuai River. It was originally a place where cargo ships docked, but was later converted into warehouses.

When Zhu Han arrived, the courtyard was full of people.

A commander of the Imperial Guards stepped forward and respectfully said, "Your Highness."

Zhu Han looked at the warehouse door, which had been pried open, revealing a dark, gaping abyss.

A few lanterns hung from the beams, their faint light flickering in the darkness and illuminating a small area.

The grain sacks were piled up to the top, densely packed, which was quite a sight.

Zhu Han walked in, his feet sinking into a thick layer of dust, each step kicking up a cloud of dust.

He walked to the grain sack, grabbed a handful of rice; the grains were clean and shimmered under the light.

The Imperial Guard beside him whispered, "It's all new grain."

Zhu Han looked at the bags and asked, "How many did you count?"

"Eight hundred bags," the Imperial Guard replied.

Zhu Han didn't speak. He walked around the warehouse, carefully observing every corner.

Several old boxes were piled up in the corner; the Imperial Guards had already opened them, and inside were account books.

Zhu Han opened a book; the pages were yellowed, but the handwriting was fresh, and each page contained the amount of grain and the date. He looked at it for a while, then closed it and said, "Transport it." The centurion immediately responded, his actions swift and decisive.

A convoy of vehicles was already waiting outside the compound, and bags of grain were being carried out one by one.

The wind by the river was cool, and it sent a chill down my spine when it hit my face.

Zhu Han stood at the door, quietly watching the convoy load grain.

Suddenly he heard a commotion in the distance. He turned around and saw several fishermen standing on the riverbank.

They huddled together, looking at the dock with expressions of curiosity.

One of the old men shouted, "Sir, is this warehouse open?"

The Imperial Guard frowned, about to speak, when Zhu Han walked over.

"What?" Zhu Han asked softly.

The old man recognized his distinguished attire and immediately lowered his voice, saying, "We just fish by the river, and this hold hasn't been touched for many years."

Zhu Han glanced at the river and asked, "Have any boats come recently?"

The old man thought for a moment and said, "It happened a few nights ago."

"How many?"

"Three."

"What are you pretending for?"

"The bag." Zhu Han nodded slightly. "When?"

“The night before last.” Zhu Han didn’t ask any more questions and returned to the warehouse gate.

The convoy was already half-loaded when a Jinyiwei centurion whispered, "Should we chase after the ships?"

Zhu Han shook his head. "The boat has already gone far away."

He looked at the Qinhuai River, where the water flowed slowly southward, a few small boats bobbed on the surface, the wind was calm, and the water shimmered.

Zhu Han was silent for a moment, then said, "Take the rest back to the city."

The hundred households responded, and the wheels began to turn again. The grain sacks were heavy, and each cart was pressed low, as if it carried the fate of the entire nation.

The caravan traveled along the riverbank toward the city, with Zhu Han following behind on horseback. His figure appeared exceptionally tall and resolute in the sunlight.

As the sun rose higher, more and more people gathered outside the city gate.

The caravans entering the city lined up in long queues, and the soldiers guarding the city checked each caravan one by one, leaving no detail unchecked.

The convoy stopped briefly at the city gate, but the guard recognized Zhu Han and immediately allowed it to pass.

The air under the shadow of the city gate was very cool, which made people feel refreshed.

As the convoy entered the city, the streets became bustling with activity, filled with people carrying loads, selling vegetables, and pulling carts.

Zhu Han did not follow them to Beiying; he stopped at the street corner.

The attendant asked, "Is Your Highness returning to the residence?"

Zhu Han shook his head, "Go to the palace."

At noon, inside the Wuying Hall, Zhu Yuanzhang stood at the entrance. He did not sit down, but held a military report that had just been delivered in his hand, his eyes focused and serious.

Zhu Han walked in, and Zhu Yuanzhang, upon seeing him, immediately asked, "How much is in the warehouse in the east of the city?"

“Eight hundred bags,” Zhu Han replied.

Zhu Yuanzhang sneered, "How dare you!"

Zhu Biao stood by the table, spread out the map, and said, "There are three boats traveling on the Qinhuai River at night."

Zhu Han nodded, "The fishermen saw it."

Zhu Yuanzhang walked to the map, stared at the river, and asked, "Which way?"

Zhu Biao pointed, "South."

Zhu Yuanzhang did not speak. The hall was quiet except for the sound of drums coming from outside. It was the noon drum, its sound powerful and long, as if striking the heartstrings of the people.

Zhu Han suddenly said, "The grain in the city is almost gone."

Zhu Yuanzhang looked at him, "Is that enough?"

"There's enough in the city."

Zhu Yuanzhang nodded slightly, tossed the military report onto the table, and said, "Then let them transport it."

Zhu Biao was taken aback for a moment, but Zhu Han smiled and said, "Your Majesty wants to see where the ship is going."

Zhu Yuanzhang snorted, "If it's hidden in the granary, then someone else must be collecting it."

Zhu Han nodded, "Then let them collect it."

Zhu Biao closed the map without asking any further questions, his eyes revealing trust and understanding.

Zhu Yuanzhang sat on a chair in the Wuying Hall, holding a memorial in his hand, but his eyes were somewhat unfocused, as if he were thinking about something.

Suddenly, he raised his head, his gaze falling on Zhu Han standing to the side, and softly called out, "Brother Han."

Zhu Han, who had been slightly bowing his head, immediately raised it upon hearing the call, his gaze meeting Zhu Yuanzhang's, and replied, "Hmm?"

Zhu Yuanzhang put down the memorial in his hand, his expression turned serious, and said, "Go to the city again tonight."

Zhu Han's lips curled up slightly, revealing a faint smile. Without the slightest hesitation, he answered decisively, "Okay."

At this moment, Zhu Biao, who had been silently watching them from the side, also raised his head, his eyes filled with concern and expectation, and said, "Uncle, I'll go with you."

Zhu Han turned to look at Zhu Biao, his gaze scrutinizing him. After a moment, he slowly said, "You must stay in the palace."

Zhu Biao was slightly taken aback, and the look of expectation on his face vanished instantly, replaced by a hint of disappointment.

He remained silent for a moment, then finally nodded slightly and said nothing more.

Zhu Yuanzhang sat back in his chair, leaned back slightly, picked up another memorial, and said as he read it, "The city gates will remain open tonight."

Zhu Han didn't say anything more and turned to walk out of the hall.

As he stepped out of the Wuying Hall, night had already quietly fallen, like a black curtain slowly enveloping the entire Yingtian City.

The city gates had long been tightly closed, like an insurmountable barrier separating the inside from the outside.

The street was dimly lit, and the shops on both sides had long since closed, their doors tightly shut, as if they were all immersed in a dream.

Occasionally, a night watchman would walk by, striking his clapper as he went. His cry of "1:15 AM—" echoed in the silent night sky, the clapper's sound drawn out as if trying to pierce through the endless darkness.

Zhu Han led his men across two streets and slowly stopped at an intersection.

The attendants pulled on the reins, and the horses obediently stopped, no longer restless.

The attendant lowered his head slightly and asked softly, "Your Highness, which way are we going?"

Zhu Han's gaze swept past the crowd, looking south with a determined look in his eyes, and he said, "Qin Huai."

Upon hearing the order, the group immediately sprang into action.

The sound of horses' hooves rang out again, sounding particularly crisp in the quiet night.

Zhu Han slowly stopped at the bridgehead, pulled on the reins, and brought the horse to a halt.

The soldiers on night watch by the bridge recognized him from afar, quickly stood up straight, their eyes filled with awe, and shouted, "Your Highness!"

Zhu Han nodded slightly in response, then stared intently at the soldiers and asked, "Are there any boats passing by tonight?"

The soldier pondered for a moment, trying hard to recall, and said, "It passed after 5 PM."

Zhu Han's eyes sharpened, and he pressed on, "How old?"

The soldier quickly replied, "A medium-sized boat, loaded with bags."

Zhu Han didn't ask any more questions. He dismounted and walked step by step onto the bridge.

The water under the bridge flowed slowly, making a soft murmur, as if telling the story of the night.

The occasional sound of oars breaking the silence of the night came from the distant river.

Zhu Han stood on the bridge, quietly for a while, his gaze sweeping across the river as if searching for something.

Suddenly, he turned and walked off the bridge, saying, "Let's walk along the river."

The group continued south along the riverbank. (End of Chapter)