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

"Who cares about any treasure? As long as there's work to do, that's enough. We'll make a living by working hard."

These topics, like the city's blood, flow through every corner, maintaining the daily operation of Zhenjiang.

However, in the last few days, everything has changed.

Food, a fundamental commodity affecting people's livelihoods, has become the focus of public attention.

In a teahouse in the south of the city, several old tea drinkers were sitting around an octagonal table, discussing grain prices with furrowed brows.

Grandpa Zhao, with his gray hair, held the teacup in a slightly trembling hand and said with a worried expression, "Have you heard? The price of grain has been falling for three consecutive days, like a flood bursting its banks, rushing down everywhere!"

The tall, thin Uncle Qian standing next to him stared wide-eyed, asking incredulously, "Really? Brother Zhao, you're not kidding me, it was three taels a stone just a few days ago, how did it drop so much?"

Grandpa Zhao put down his teacup and patted the table: "Would I lie to you? At first, the price dropped from three taels to one shi (a unit of dry measure), it was like going down a slide, it just 'whoosh' down to two taels. Everyone was overjoyed at the time, and they spread the word, thinking that the price of grain had stabilized."

At this moment, Brother Sun, who had been sitting quietly in the corner drinking tea, interjected: "Stabilize? It's not that easy. Look, it immediately dropped from two ounces to one and a half ounces. I passed by the grain market this morning, and the scene was quite spectacular."

Upon hearing this, everyone perked up and crowded around, asking all at once, "Brother Sun, tell us quickly, what's going on?"

"Yeah, tell us already, stop keeping us in suspense."

Brother Sun took a sip of tea, cleared his throat, and said vividly, "You didn't see it, did you? The streets of the grain market in the south of the city, which were usually deserted, have changed completely today. There are people everywhere, bustling about, and the lines to buy grain are getting longer and longer. The lines are like a long, winding dragon, stretching from the grain shop entrance all the way to the end of the street. I can't even squeeze in."

Grandpa Zhao sighed and said with emotion, "It's good that grain prices have fallen! For us ordinary people, it's like a timely rain. A few days ago, the high grain prices were suffocating everyone. Many families couldn't afford to buy rice and could only eat it mixed with wild vegetables. Now, things are much better. We can finally see hope that we can afford to buy grain."

Uncle Qian nodded repeatedly: "Yes, yes, I hope the price of grain can keep falling like this so that we ordinary people can all have enough to eat."

Just then, the door of the teahouse was suddenly pushed open, and a farmer carrying a load on a shoulder pole strode in.

With a broad smile and beads of sweat on his forehead, he shouted as he entered the room, "Great news! Great news!"

Everyone looked at him, and Grandpa Zhao hurriedly asked, "What good news? Tell me quickly."

The farmer put his load aside and said excitedly, "I just came from the grain market, and the price of grain has dropped again. Now one tael and fifty centimeters can buy a bushel!"

The teahouse erupted in discussion. "Really? Grain prices have fallen way too fast!"

"Great, now we can eat to our hearts' content."

"I don't know why grain prices have dropped so drastically."

At this moment, the teahouse owner, a shrewd middle-aged man, came out from behind the counter and said with a smile, "Gentlemen, in my opinion, the reason why grain prices have fallen so sharply must be because there are some new policies from above, or this year's grain harvest is bountiful. In any case, it's a good thing for us ordinary people."

Grandpa Zhao nodded: "The boss is right. Who cares why the price drops? As long as we can eat cheap food, that's fine."

After leaving the teahouse, Grandpa Zhao decided to go to the grain market.

When he arrived at the streets of the grain market in the south of the city, he was stunned by what he saw.

The streets were packed with people, bustling with activity. People lined up to buy grain in waves, one after another.

Among the group were farmers like him carrying loads on their shoulders, their simple faces beaming with long-lost smiles.

A young farmer excitedly said to his companion, "Brother, look how low the grain price has fallen! We can buy more grain this year and store it up so we won't have to worry about not having enough to eat in the future."

His companion laughed and said, "Yes, there's finally hope for the future."

There were also women carrying bamboo baskets, their eyes revealing their deep appreciation for the food.

An older woman said to the young woman next to her, "Girl, the grain is cheap now, let's buy more and make some good food for the children when we get home."

The young woman nodded: "Mother, you're right. I'll go and queue up a little longer to buy a few more bags."

There were also porters pushing carts, which struggled to move forward through the crowd, making creaking noises, as if they were also providing accompaniment to the lively scene.

One porter, wiping his sweat, said to another porter beside him, "Brother, this job was really tiring today, but it makes me happy to see that everyone can buy cheap grain."

Another porter laughed and said, "Yes, with the drop in grain prices, everyone's life is better. It's worth it for us to work hard."

The atmosphere in the backyard of Tong Sheng Grain Store was so oppressive that it was hard to breathe.

Several shopkeepers sat around a table, on which was a brand-new grain price list.

The portly shopkeeper frowned, pointed to the numbers on the screen, and said in a low voice, "It dropped again this morning."

The other person sighed helplessly, his voice filled with exhaustion: "One ounce and seven centimeters."

The room fell silent instantly, as if time had frozen.

Everyone kept their heads down, silent, each calculating their own losses.

After a while, someone whispered, "If this continues, we'll have to sell the grain in our warehouse at a loss."

This statement, like a boulder thrown into a calm lake, stirred up ripples.

The fat shopkeeper gave a bitter smile, a smile more painful than a grimace: "If we don't sell now, the price will drop even lower in a couple of days. By then, we won't even be able to recoup our costs."

Just then, a waiter rushed in, his steps hurried and flustered, his face filled with terror. "Manager!" he shouted.

"The official granary in the north of the city is open for business today!"

Everyone suddenly looked up, their eyes filled with shock and fear.

"What?" someone asked loudly, unable to believe their ears.

The waiter, panting, finally managed to catch his breath and said, "The government has released grain."

The room fell silent, a deathly stillness.

The atmosphere inside the Crown Prince's study was completely different.

Zhu Han was standing in front of the table, his posture upright, his eyes firm and deep.

A detailed map of Zhenjiang was laid out on the table, with every street and building clearly visible.

Zhu Biao stood to the side, his eyes revealing curiosity and doubt.

"Uncle, the official granary has already released three thousand shi (a unit of dry measure) today."

Zhu Biao said, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Zhu Han nodded, his expression calm and composed: "That's enough."

Zhu Biao looked puzzled and asked with a frown, "Why only put this much?"

Zhu Han smiled slightly, a hint of wisdom in his eyes: "If too much is released, the grain merchants will give up. Once they feel there is no hope, they will stop selling grain, hold onto their granaries, and wait for the market to change. If too little is released, they will continue to sell, because they feel there is still a chance to recover their losses."

Zhu Biao suddenly realized, a hint of admiration flashing in his eyes: "Force them to hand over the grain."

Zhu Han nodded, confirming Zhu Biao's statement.

Gu Qingping listened quietly from the side, her eyes revealing keenness and insight.

She said softly, "The grain market is starting to loosen up now. But I don't think it's over yet."

Zhu Han looked up at her, a hint of admiration flashing in his eyes: "Why do you say that?"

Gu Qingping pointed to the map and said, "There are so many grain merchants in Zhenjiang, but only a few grain warehouses have been discovered. This means that there are many hidden grain warehouses that we haven't found yet, and they are definitely still manipulating grain prices in secret."

Zhu Biao frowned, realizing the seriousness of the problem: "Indeed." Zhu Han nodded slowly, lost in thought: "So I've been thinking about where their largest warehouse is. As long as we find this main warehouse, we can completely thwart their conspiracy."

Just then, a series of hurried footsteps came from outside the door.

A man dressed in coarse cloth strode in, his face showing a mixture of excitement and nervousness. "Your Highness!" he called out loudly.

Zhu Han looked at him, his eyes filled with anticipation: "Speak."

The man in coarse cloth said in a low voice, "Someone is moving grain in the west of the city at night."

Zhu Biao's eyes lit up, as if he had seen a glimmer of hope: "The west of the city?"

The man in coarse cloth nodded and said with certainty, "I followed them for a while last night; they went into a secondhand market."

Zhu Han's gaze darkened slightly as he thought to himself, "It seems we've found the place we're looking for." He asked, "How many cars?"

The man in coarse cloth said, "At least twenty cartloads."

Zhu Biao frowned, somewhat surprised, and said, "So many?"

Zhu Han smiled, a hint of confidence in his eyes: "It seems we've found the place we're looking for. Tonight, we'll go and investigate."

A faint light flickered deep inside the freight yard.

Several horse-drawn carriages were parked there quietly, while dozens of strong men were busy carrying sacks of grain around them.

They were all strong and sturdy, and their movements were skilled and swift. They carried bags of grain into the warehouse as if they were conducting a secret transaction.

Someone urged in a low voice, "Hurry up! We have to finish moving it before dawn!"

Although his voice was low, it was filled with tension and urgency.

A middle-aged man stood to one side, wearing a gray robe, his expression calm and composed.

A hint of wariness flashed in his eyes as he constantly observed his surroundings.

"The checks at the docks are very strict, so hurry up."

He spoke in a low voice, his tone carrying an undeniable air of authority.

One of the shop assistants couldn't help but ask, "Manager, are we really going to transfer everything?"

The man nodded and said firmly, "We can't stay in Zhenjiang any longer. Let's send the grain away first, and then we'll talk again once things calm down."

Zhu Han and Zhu Biao stood behind a sloping hill, their figures appearing and disappearing in the darkness.

Zhu Biao said in a low voice, "Uncle, at least thirty people."

Zhu Han nodded, his eyes fixed on the situation inside the freight yard: "There are quite a few grain warehouses as well."

The man in coarse cloth said, "I saw it during the day; there are six large warehouses inside."

Zhu Biao asked, "Make a move?" His voice carried a hint of excitement and tension, and he gripped his longsword tightly, ready to strike at any moment.

Zhu Han glanced at the sky. It was late at night, and there was no one around. It was the perfect time to take action.

He decisively said, "Let's do it."

At the command, the figures on both sides sprang into action.

More than twenty men approached the cargo yard stealthily from different directions. Their footsteps were light and agile, like ghosts, without making a sound.

The guards were the first to notice something amiss, and they called out warily, "Who's there?"

Before he could finish speaking, one of them was pinned to the ground and unable to move.

On the other side, Zhu Biao rushed into the freight yard first. His long sword was drawn, and a cold light flashed. Like lightning, the burly man blocking the road was forced back, and a look of fear appeared on his face.

"Don't move!" someone shouted, their voice echoing through the night sky.

The scene immediately descended into chaos, with the grain carriers stopping and standing there bewildered.

The middle-aged man's expression changed, and he inwardly cried out, "The government?"

Zhu Han slowly walked into the firelight; his figure was tall and imposing.

“It’s not the government,” he said calmly. “It’s me.”

The man froze when he saw his face clearly, his eyes filled with fear and despair: "Han...Prince Han?"

Zhu Han said calmly, "Continue moving."

The man froze, thinking he had misheard: "What?"

Zhu Han pointed to the grain sacks and said again, "I said, keep moving them."

Everyone was at a loss, looking at each other, unsure of what to do.

Zhu Biao was also taken aback, not understanding Zhu Han's intention.

Zhu Han smiled and said, "Since you've already moved out, you might as well help me check the food."

There was a moment of silence, then Zhu Han waved his hand and said loudly, "Open the warehouse door."

The first warehouse door slowly opened, and torches shone inside, causing everyone to gasp in shock.

The warehouse was piled high with grain sacks, stacked layer upon layer to the roof, like a small mountain.

Zhu Biao said in a low voice, "Uncle, this is more than the salt warehouse."

Zhu Han nodded and said, "It seems their main warehouse is here."

Torches were lit everywhere, making the entire freight yard as bright as day.

The men began busily moving the grain. Bags of grain were placed on the open ground, ten bags in a row, a hundred bags in a pile, and the number kept increasing.

Zhu Biao was increasingly shocked as he listened; he had never imagined that so much grain was hidden here.

As dawn approached, the accountant finally stopped writing, his voice trembling: "Your Highness... everything has been accounted for."

Zhu Han asked, "How much?"

The accountant took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down: "A total of... fifty-two thousand shi."

The air seemed to freeze; everyone was stunned by the number.

Zhu Biao froze, unable to believe his ears: "Fifty thousand?"

Zhu Han nodded slowly and said, "Indeed. Zhenjiang Grain Market is so big, it can't be sustained without at least 50,000 shi (a unit of dry measure).

He looked at the mountain of grain, his tone calm but firm: "Now, their trump card is gone."

The middle-aged man was brought before Zhu Han. His face was deathly pale, his legs were weak, and he could barely stand.

Zhu Han asked, "What's your name?" (End of Chapter)