Take control of Wei Zhongxian at the start and confiscate 100 million from him!

Chapter 197: Repeated financial transactions are a shortcut to building trust.

Shaanxi, Xi'an Prefecture.

Night slowly enveloped this ancient city.

There was no wind, and the air was filled with a restless dryness.

This is a kind of despair that can make you feel anxious to the core, because it is not just the weather, but also the will of heaven—the land is barren for thousands of miles!
In the back hall of the Shaanxi governor's office, a solitary lamp flickered dimly.

Sun Chuanting sat under the solitary lamp, neither reviewing official documents nor reading books, but simply sitting quietly, his gaze fixed on the eastward expanse swallowed by darkness outside the window.

He was noticeably thinner than before he came to Shaanxi, with deep-set eyes, but his eyes were surprisingly bright, like two cold stars burning in the dark night.

On the table lay a secret report from the capital, which had taken more than ten days to arrive.

The details are not complicated: Tianjin was subjected to a city-wide raid. Thirteen wealthy families, including the Wang family, were wiped out overnight. Rivers of blood flowed, and their entire fortunes were confiscated.

The emperor has killed someone again.

Sun Chuanting's fingers tapped lightly on the cold pear wood table unconsciously, the sound particularly clear in the dead of night.

Are you worried about me?

Perhaps using that word to describe his current mood is too indifferent.

This is no longer the concern of a subject for his monarch, but more like the concern of a gambler who has staked his life, ideals, and even his soul on the same table, for his partner who holds a winning hand but insists on choosing the most dangerous strategy. This concern is a mixture of fear, fervor, and awe.

In recent days, Sun Chuanting has hardly had a good night's sleep.

He was like a spinning top being whipped by an invisible whip, spinning wildly on the bloody stage of purging the Shaanxi officialdom.

One wave after another of officials were taken down, from prefects to county magistrates, from granary officials to post station officials; the guillotine at Caishikou never stopped falling.

So much so that the nickname "Sun Yama" began to circulate among the people of Xi'an.

Sun Chuanting felt that he was being influenced more and more by that young emperor.

The Confucian gentleness he once took pride in has long been replaced by cold pragmatism.

He stopped believing in tears and petitions, and only believed in the numbers in the ledgers and the irrefutable evidence presented by the secret agents of the Embroidered Uniform Guard.

It won't work if we don't go on a killing spree.

The situation in Shaanxi remains as grim as a taut bowstring.

It now appears that this severe drought is far from over.

If the situation continues to deteriorate, and those corrupt officials he suppressed with ruthless methods begin to harbor other thoughts...

Sun Chuanting dared not even think about it.

The thought of this brought back a deep-seated sense of shame that gnawed at his heart like a venomous snake.

He dared not even recall that because of his "weakness," because he still harbored that ridiculous idea of ​​"avoiding offending superiors," he had actually forced the emperor himself to personally venture into the dragon's den and tiger's lair of Shaanxi, taking on this enormous risk!

That night, in the Prince of Qin's residence, the emperor's calm yet thunderous words still resonate in his ears day and night like a resounding bell.

"...Governing a large country is like cooking a small fish, or like carving jade. Jade that is not carved cannot become a vessel. I have given you power not because I expect you to be perfect in everything, but because I hope you can learn a great lesson from small mistakes. In all things, you should be bold and careful. Even if there are oversights, as long as they are not acts of corruption, embezzlement, or actions that shake the foundation of the country, I am willing to share the responsibility with you!"

"Sharing the burden!"
At that time, those three words almost caused the unshakeable principle of loyalty between ruler and subject in his heart to crumble. Since ancient times, it has been the subject who would die for the ruler and cover up the ruler's mistakes. How could there be a reason for the ruler to take responsibility for the subject instead?
"...Although this matter is concluded, its merits and demerits must be examined. I hereby order you to submit a 'summary report' within a month, outlining where this matter succeeded and where it failed. If it were handled in a different location, or if it were to be done again, how could it have been done better? I will archive this report so that future officials can learn from it if they encounter similar situations."

The "summary" he had painstakingly written had already been sent to the capital.

But the contents of this memorandum were etched into his mind like a brand.

Almost every day, Sun Chuanting would mentally replay the whole incident.

Each time I think about it, I gain a deeper understanding; with each deeper understanding, I feel an even greater, unfathomable awe for that young emperor.

That was no longer a simple decision to kill, but a long-term imperial strategy that aimed to turn every mistake into a whetstone.

What the emperor sought was not a subject who followed the rules and never made a mistake, but a pillar of the nation who could learn from his mistakes and be tempered in the face of adversity.

It was that personal visit, and that ruthless act of beheading Zhu Cunshu, the Prince of Qin, without hesitation, in front of everyone, that made Sun Chuanting and all the officials in Shaanxi truly understand how powerful and binding the emperor's seemingly ordinary edict truly was.

—"Following the laws of Emperor Taizu, anyone found embezzling more than sixty taels in Shaanxi shall be executed!"

Not a single lie was told.

Now, under the intimidation of the elite new army left by the emperor, and the 17,000 soldiers he himself recruited from the refugees, and in the face of the bloody reality of countless heads rolling, the officialdom in Shaanxi has finally become much quieter.

Those orders that were once paid lip service are now being carried out without fail; the disaster relief funds that were skimmed off at every level are finally reaching the mouths of the starving disaster victims in greater quantities.

As the night grew increasingly hazy, the oppressive heat outside the window seemed to dissipate somewhat.

Sun Chuanting slowly stood up and walked to the window, his gaze still fixed intently on the distant east—the direction of Shandong.

He unconsciously clenched his fist, and his knuckles made a slight "crack" sound from the force.

A thought, an extremely disrespectful thought, like a demon from the abyss, uncontrollably emerged from the deepest part of his heart.

The emperor is currently in Shandong, about to head south. That is the stronghold of the Donglin Party, a place where gentry and officials from all over the country are deeply entrenched, and a place with turbulent waves a hundred times more dangerous than the stagnant waters of Shaanxi.

If... if it were truly a hypothetical situation, and the emperor were in grave danger in Jiangnan...

Sun Chuanting thought he would definitely go crazy.

He, along with the 17,000 new soldiers who only care about military pay and the emperor, will surely, under the leadership of the utterly insane Sun Chuanting, disregard imperial edicts and requests, transform into a black iron torrent rushing out of Tongguan, traversing the Central Plains, and heading straight for Jiangnan at top speed!

However, this crazy idea only lasted a few breaths before Sun Chuanting burst out laughing.

The laughter was low, tinged with self-mockery, yet also with an unwavering certainty.

If there is anything in this world that this emperor cannot solve, then... even if Sun Chuanting went there, he would definitely not be able to do it.

Instead of thinking about those uncertain possibilities, it would be better to polish the rough gem that the emperor entrusted to him in Shaanxi to make it even more perfect.

Sun Chuanting returned to the lamplight, spread out a new sheet of Xuan paper, and dipped his brush in ink. Tonight, he would once again deduce the "summary of past points."

This time, it concerns the Tianjin salt case.

He wanted to think and analyze things from Bi Ziyan's perspective.

Outside the window, the night was cool and still.

The shadow of a lone official was elongated by the lamplight and projected onto the wall, steady and resolute.

……

In stark contrast to the suffocating silence of Shaanxi, Xuanfu Town in the north is currently immersed in a bustling and vibrant nightlife.

Although the city gates were closed, the long street near the market inside the city was still brightly lit.

A huge bonfire roared in the open space, casting a red glow over half the sky.

Vendors speaking in various accents were still shouting their wares at the top of their lungs.

On the stalls of Han Chinese merchants, silk, tea, iron pots, and liquor were displayed in abundance; while on the other side, Mongolian merchants, dressed in fur robes and with braids, piled bundles of furs, dried beef and mutton, and bags of milk curds on the ground, haggling with customers.

The air was filled with the smoky aroma of roasted mutton, the sour smell of cheap mare's milk wine, and the sweat of people, creating a unique, rough yet vibrant atmosphere.

The Governor-General of Xuanda, Man Gui, stood in the shadow of an arrow tower not far away, like a silent lion, overlooking this territory that belonged to him.

He was tall and strong, dressed in ordinary clothes, but the murderous aura he exuded, honed from countless battles, still made his personal guards around him afraid to breathe loudly.

For this outstanding figure among the Ming Dynasty's border generals, his approach to officialdom was much simpler and more direct than that of Sun Chuanting.

He did whatever the emperor asked him to do, without fail.

This is pure, soldier-like loyalty—simple, yet the most reliable.

Of course, he also had his moments of confusion.

For example, not long ago, the emperor issued a decree that once again took away a lot of elite cavalry from him. In total, five thousand elite cavalry were taken away in two separate incidents. For any general of a border town, this was like having a piece of his heart cut out.

However, to Man Gui's surprise, just two months later, he felt that his army had not been weakened, but rather... become stronger.

Below the arrow tower lay the camp of his newly established "Zhenbei Camp". Among the new recruits were young and strong Han Chinese from nearby garrisons, but the majority were Mongols who had come to join him with their families.

reason?

Man Gui's gaze once again fell upon the bustling night market.

Life on the grasslands is getting harder and harder.

Those tribes, large and small, were repeatedly oppressed by Ligdan Khan and the Later Jin, and many people were truly living in tears.

Meanwhile, in Xuanda Border Town, separated by only a wall, trade is becoming increasingly prosperous, and the standard of living is visibly much better than that on the grasslands.

In particular, the new military policy implemented by the current emperor has one aspect that is extremely simple and brutal—military pay is paid monthly without delay!

When, in the first month, the newly enlisted Mongolian youths actually brought home a heavy string of copper coins or a few pieces of silver, the resulting sensation was more effective than any sweet talk or appeasement.

They could eat their fill, wear simple clothes, and receive a monthly military salary in real money.

For the herders who struggle to survive on the grasslands, this is a good life they never dared to dream of.

As a result, more and more Mongolian youths, carrying their bows and horses and a glimmer of hope for the future, crossed the border and joined Man Gui's ranks.

Those young men of Han descent who saw the tangible benefits eagerly joined the army.

Now, not counting the old, weak, sick and disabled garrison soldiers, Man Gui has expanded his actual combat force, which can be deployed to fight head-on, to nearly 30,000 men.

These 30,000 men are highly motivated and in good spirits!

In addition, there are 30,000 to 40,000 border troops on the periphery who can still wave flags and shout slogans, serving as a diversionary force...

He, Man Gui, has never had such a strong and well-equipped army!
Looking at Xuanfu City in the night, a surge of heroic spirit welled up in his heart; he knew what he had to do.

He is waiting.

Waiting for news, waiting for the right opportunity.

Ligdan Khan has completed his final assembly and is about to launch a decisive surprise attack on his nemesis, the Khorchin tribe.

What Man Gui had to do was, at the moment when Lindan Khan and the Khorchin people were fighting to the death, lead his long-starved and fierce army, like the sharpest boning knife, to precisely stab the Khorchin tribe in the back!

He wanted to completely cripple this opportunistic tribe that colluded with the Later Jin and wavered between two sides! Destroy them! Seize all their cattle, sheep, horses, and people to populate Xuanda!
This will be a generous gift from Mangui to the young emperor who trusts him!
A true reward, forged with blood and war merits!

Man Gui's gaze returned to the bustling market once again.

Watching those Han and Mongol merchants who were arguing heatedly over a small price difference one moment and then drinking together arm in arm the next, he couldn't help but recall another sentence that the young emperor had said to him during his inspection of Xuanda, a sentence that had puzzled him at first.

That day, the emperor pointed to a similar trading scene and smiled at him:
"Repeated financial transactions are a shortcut to building trust."

At the time, Man Gui didn't quite understand.

But now, seeing this vivid scene before him, he understood.

When a Mongolian herdsman needs to trade his sheepskin for iron pots and salt from a Han Chinese; when a Han Chinese caravan needs a Mongolian guide to safely cross the grasslands.

When these back-and-forth monetary transactions become an indispensable part of their lives, the so-called great divide between Mongols and Han Chinese, and the so-called generational blood feuds, become insignificant in the face of real interests.
The emperor wanted more than just a fortified border city; he wanted to weave these former enemies, bit by bit, into the vast net of the Ming Dynasty, so that they could never escape.

Having figured this out, Man Gui felt an indescribable sense of joy welling up from her chest.

He could no longer contain himself and burst into hearty laughter at the city lights and the bustling world!
"Ha ha ha ha--!!"

The laughter was rough and hearty, carrying far into the night sky of Xuanfu, drowning out the hustle and bustle of the streets, and startling a few birds that were roosting there.

(End of this chapter)